AGAIN

Chapter Eight

Flashback

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Clock ticks.

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“I have a plan.” Jet said as her face brightened up with an idea. She sat on the floor, at the center of the room between our beds, and motioned us to join her.

“Ha! I know that look!” Max laughed and turned to face me as we sat down with Jet. “My cousin’s a genius, you know.”

I creased my forehead, puzzled. I tasted the beer. It was bitter.

Crap.

“What plan?” I asked, looking at them in confusion.

“A plan-- ” Jet snapped her fingers and continued,

 “…for revenge.”

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-=Red’s POV=-

With full caution, I started circling my opponent like a lion waiting for the perfect moment to catch its prey.  The man looked to be around thirty, his chin was framed with short dark hairs. He was bigger than me but I didn’t care. I was used to fighting older men and my average build gave me the advantage of speed.

A few shouts came from the crowd and I caught a tinge of distraction from my prey. 

There’s my cue.

I lunged forward and swung my right fist into the guy’s face. I quickly stepped back expecting him to counter my attack but he was too busy clutching his jaw. He sent me a deadly glare before attacking and swinging his fist towards me. I managed to dodge away from the attack, making him stumble forward.

I laughed at my prey.

“Didn’t anyone advice you not to drink too much before a fight?” I said, provoking my opponent.

He let out an enraged roar and lunged himself forward to punch my smug face. This time I didn’t back off. He successfully hit my face but I quickly returned the favor. As we exchanged strong punches, the deafening shouts from our audience grew louder.

He attempted another uppercut but I caught his fist and twisted it will all my might. As he whined in pain, I brought my other fist into his stomach. I tackled him into the ground and got the chance to punch his face rapidly until he was unconscious.

I stood up from my prey when Drew signaled that the fight was over.

“Good job, man.” He said, throwing me my black T-shirt.

“Yeah. I almost didn’t sweat.”  I mumbled, spitting the blood from my bleeding gum and slowly stretching the fingers from my wounded knuckles.

I noticed the crowd as it started splitting up. It was made up of people who didn’t really care whether you die or live. They only wanted you to survive because of winnings and nothing more.

Actually, it also didn’t matter to me if they cared or not. I was also after the money and making myself stronger. The stronger I become, the more chances of winning. And winning means cash.

“This time, I’m sure you’re ready for Pro.” Rick’s voice suddenly came from my behind.

I didn’t turn to face him. He kept on pestering me about advancing to professional underground fighting and it annoyed me.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”  I grumbled, putting my shirt on.

The last time I tried going Pro, I almost got my fucking self killed. I didn’t know then that the fights were more deadly and I could get more chances to end up in jail when I get caught by cops.