Clearly, time spent away from this world hasn’t done anything to lessen my reputation. As soon as I begin to make my way toward the empty space in the center of the floor, the crowd begins to part, all eyes on me. I hear my name whispered, the sounds overlapping. Like they heard I might have been one of the fighters tonight but didn’t believe it until I walked in.
Eli is waiting, grinning by the time I reach him. “I hope you know I had to pull strings to get this together at the last minute.”
“Bullshit,” I growl while glancing around the room. There are people everywhere. People wait with bated breath for a fight like this, a chance to place a bet and make big money. This didn’t take string pulling; all it took was a text telling them tonight could be the night they win big.
I shake off the negative energy and let my thoughts drift away.
My body is a live wire, my heart thunders in my chest, and adrenaline rushes through my veins. All I need is a look at my opponent to get an idea of my plan of attack.
I set my sights on a mountain of muscle, surrounded by a handful of women batting their eyes and looking like they want to take turns riding his cock. I’ve never met the guy before, but it’s better in this type of thing when you’ve never met each other.
Before Eli has to tell me, I jerk my chin in his direction.
“Is that the guy?”
He nods. “Five fights in, and he’s undefeated.”
So he’ll feel like he has something to prove. Especially against me since I’m undefeated as well—and I have many more kills under my belt. There’s nothing like one of these matches to balance me out, and I needed a lot more balancing in the past.
He thinks this is the night that will make him a legend. And it might. Just not for the reason he thinks.
I strip off my shirt and toss it aside before kicking off my shoes. He’s already done so, and now he begins stretching, staring at me the entire time. I return his steely glare while sizing him up.
He’s big, telling me there’s a good chance he’ll rely on brute strength alone. His ham-sized fists can do a great deal of damage in a short amount of time. I’ll have to avoid his punches, but then I’ve always known how to move smoothly and quickly.
Besides, there’s more than pride pushing me to do this. That’s what sets me apart and always has. Skill and experience.
That extra something, the quality that sets me apart, is the desire to exorcize my demons until there’s nothing left but a dead body at my feet. A mass of bloody flesh that used to be a living, breathing man.
“Two minutes!” Eli calls out. “Betting ends in two minutes. Get yours in while you can.” An obscene amount of money changes hands every time another spectator approaches him. I wonder absently about the odds he called. It doesn’t matter, though the furtive glances I keep observing from those placing their last-minute bets make me think they expect to make a bundle on me.
I’m not in the same shape I was in the past, but I’m smarter and wiser. I’ve been down this road more than once, and even though I might appear to be an old man, I’m not.
Finally, Eli holds his hands up, standing in the center of the cleared space. He has guys positioned in even intervals, forming a circle around where we’ll do our fighting. Just in case somebody decides they want to jump in and stop the fight—or if one of us decides they didn’t bargain for this. Either way, there’s no leaving or entering until the fight ends.
“Betting is now closed!” he shouts. “Our fighters know the rules. Only one man leaves. As usual, spectators are forbidden to enter the fight space.” The excited murmuring quiets down until there’s nothing but the sound of at least a hundred people taking a deep breath and holding it in anticipation.
Eli looks at me. He looks at my opponent, whose name I haven’t learned and have no intention of learning. No sense humanizing the guy when he’ll be dead in a few minutes.
“Fight!” Eli backs away, and my opponent wastes no time. He’s not particularly quick, so I easily sidestep him before throwing a jab at his kidneys. He responds by pivoting, his fist cocked, as he drives it against my ribs before the other fist connects with my jaw hard enough to make me see stars.
Fuck, the man can hit.
I fall back a few steps, fists raised, shifting my weight from one foot to the other while waiting for the right moment. He throws another punch, but I easily block it, though not so for the jab to my right eye.
I recover quickly before landing a kick against his sternum that knocks the wind out of him. He staggers back a step, and I use his reaction to my advantage, bringing my leg up and around in a roundhouse that sends his head snapping to one side before he falls to his knees.
“Come on!” I bark along with so many others who made the mistake of throwing their money away on him. He gets on his feet, his face dark red with either rage or embarrassment. Which I’m not sure, nor do I really care.
The sight of it is like a white-hot knife sliding into my gut. He thought that was embarrassing? Now I want to punish him simply for thinking he was any match for me.
I wave him forward, grinning, and his rage makes him clumsy. He charges straight for me, and I reward him with another solid kick to his right knee. Even over the sound of my pounding heart and the cheering from the crowd, there’s no muffling the popping sound his knee makes when I connect with it.
He goes down on that knee, and I do the same to the other. Rather than fall on his side helplessly, he wraps both arms around my calves and pulls me down with him. I land on my back but kick my way free before he can throw his considerable body weight on top of me. He sprawls face-first but rolls onto his back before I can take advantage.
This is almost too easy, and I hate him for it. I came here for a challenge, a way of clearing my head of everything getting in my way.
He’s not even a challenge. He’s nothing. A pothole in the road that I’ll easily overstep. The sound of the crowd is a familiar one as their cheering takes on an almost sinister note.