Slavik
Noise greeted us the moment we entered the underground facility. The entire setup changed and moved between my cities, the invites going out via text or email. The location nothing more than a set of coordinates. The fights had been going for nearly five years now. In all that time, only two fights had been removed and the location changed because someone decided to cave and give the details to the police.
From my men on my payroll, they’d sent me the alert of the impending invasion, and I’d gotten plenty of time to move myself and the fight to another location. The police had found nothing more than empty space, even with some paperwork about the potential renovations for business purposes.
I was always one step ahead.
The very people who’d ratted the fight no longer had a very comfortable life. One of them was dead, the other lived on the streets, having lost their fortune. The warning was simple, don’t rat us out, and we won’t come after you.
These fights earned a great deal of money. Blood money. They weren’t the standard, organized fist-slamming shown on television. This was a death match.
Many people liked to pay good money to see men fight for survival. The rich loved to be able to wave their cash to get anything they desired, even if they didn’t know exactly what it was they wanted.
The more depraved, the more money.
Aurora’s hand on my arm got even tighter as she saw the ring down below.
The basement of this fight was set out as if we were in a great opera. The space was decent, the crowd going wild.
Everything was safe. No risk of the building caving in on us.
“This is … oh, my God, gross,” Aurora said. She released my arm to grip the railing. The man beside her looked at her, pissed as if she’d ruined it for him. I glared at him. Everyone knew who I was, and Aurora would be protected. “This is all real?” She glanced around the room, and as she took it all in, the frown across her brow deepened.
“Yes.”
“Oh, God.” She glanced back at the dance floor.
Some of the women were screaming for the kill. The fights always brought out the lust in some. I didn’t need to look at anyone to see women getting off as the men fought. The blood covered the ground. The men looked exhausted, but no one called the fight to the end.
One final blow, and I heard the crack of knuckles. The man fell to the ground. This fight happened once a month. I never allowed it to go again. Once it played and people paid their money, I gave enough time and space to make them crave the fights. Their thirst for blood driving their need higher.
All of this was business.
The fighters all knew the risks entering the ring. They had to fight to the death. No exceptions unless someone screamed out for mercy for them. The crowd knew they could shout to save them.
The man was now on the floor, his body being dragged out, and no one had cared to give him the mercy shot.
Aurora didn’t know the rules.
“Why did you bring me here?”
I hadn’t attended the last two, and I always made sure to attend at least half of the fights. Men died. For all I knew, good men died for the pleasure of money. The least I could do was show up to some to bear witness.
I pulled Aurora in front of me. Her hair was held back with a small clip. The dress she wore drove me wild. The plunging neckline had me wondering how she kept her tits in place. The dress didn’t cover half her body, and I knew because I’d picked it.
I pressed my lips against her neck. My hands grabbed the railing at either side of her, locking her against my body. No escape.
“No one saved him,” I said.
This made her jerk. “Can they?”
“Yes.” I nodded. I couldn’t resist a lick across her pulse. I heard her gasp. It wasn’t loud but subtle, and I heard it.
“They had a chance to save that guy and they chose to let him die?”
“Yes.”
“And they all know they can save him?”
“Yes. It’s why I’m telling you now.” I kissed her neck, and she moaned. “They would rather pay to see a man die than allow him to live.”
“I’m not like that.”
“You’re not?” I asked.
Another fighter was already making their way out. The previous winner looked exhausted. He had one chance. Double his chances of winning, or bow out, winning more than any job would give him.
I watched him, seeing the man who came out. Both were hard, muscular men. The one coming toward the ring had a certain walk to him. His confidence spoke volumes. The man in the ring held an air of desperation. He was here out of need to make quick cash, whereas the man who now entered the ring was in no rush, had no fear, no panic. It had been a long time since I saw such a man so calm.
This was going to be brutal.
I placed my hand on Aurora’s stomach. Her entire body shook as the first punch landed, and my assessment was clear.
The crowd started out silent, not sure which way to vote, or who to want to win. The previous winner had them all up his ass just moments ago, but now, they saw a different winner. Their cheering for the other ceased, the brutal newcomer earning their praise.
I was right, like always.