Below The Belt

Intermission

Red's POV, 2 years ago

"Yo, Red!" I heard as I wrapped my hands up in the locker room. I looked up to see Aaron, one of my friends at the club, approaching me with his phone in his hand. "You hear about that nigga Mr. Onyx is supposed to be bringin' up from Atlanta?"

Atlanta? That's a long ass way to come just to fight in some underground boxing club. "Ion care 'bout no Atlanta nigga, man." I answered without looking at his phone.

"You should care about this one. When he gets here, he's fightin' you first." I quickly looked up again to see if he was joking, but he wasn't.

"Don't no niggas fight the champ for they first fight. Fuck is Onyx thinkin'?" I asked as I leaned over to briefly glance at Aaron's phone. He was watching a video of some niggas fighting in an underground cage fight— they don't even have a ring, just a gate on a concrete floor. Just ghetto. "Which one is he?"

"The light bright." He answered, making me focus on the shorter, lighter man. He moved fast, zipping in and out of range like some type of viper, striking quick before backing away. "He nice, right?"

"He aight." I answered, shrugging my shoulders. He ain't me.

"Nigga don't be a hater." Aaron laughed. "That nigga sweet and you know it."

"He aight." I repeated, making Aaron simply roll his eyes and walk away as I continued getting ready. I don't see why Mr. Onyx would go out of his way to scout this nigga all the way in Atlanta. He ain't special, just another broke nigga makin' quick cash underground.

Just like the rest of us.

I started fighting in places like this when I was eighteen... After my pops kicked me out when he caught me in bed with one of his associates' sons. Safe to say he don't fuck with gay niggas like that. I had nowhere else to go when he kicked me out. I tried to ask the nigga I was fucking if I could stay with him, but turns out he didn't fuck with me that heavy. Just a nice piece of ass, as he referred to me. I mean, I think I got a lil more than that going for me, but whatever. When he wouldn't help me, I ended up in a shelter. I tried getting a job at some fast food place, then got a second job at some cheap ass shoe store, but trying to make enough money to actually move into an apartment was hard as hell when some days I'd be so tired it felt impossible to move.

Aaron was the one who introduced me to Mr. Onyx. We stayed in the same shelter together, and one day I saw him packing his bags up. I asked where the hell he was going, and he said he was moving into his new apartment. I was confused because we were both in a similar boat, kicked out of our homes for being queer— though his situation was a bit different than mine— and then we both moved to the shelter and struggled with normal ass jobs to make money.

He explained to me that he'd found a little side hustle that was making him bands. Since we were closer than the other niggas in the shelter, he offered to let me stay with him, and then offered to introduce me to his boss.

I accepted the place to stay without hesitation, but asked him to explain what it was he did for work.

Next thing you know, I'm meeting Mr. Onyx at his club. As you can probably guess, I accepted his offer to work for him.

I ain't no jack shit about fighting back then, but Aaron helped me train.

Before long, I even surpassed him. I became number one. I made it to the top, took that fake ass champion title, and I've been defending it ever since.

And now... Mr. Onyx wants to bring in some lil nigga from Atlanta to try and take my shit.

Niggas is tripping.