“It’s just cold feet.” Brushing my confession off, he refocuses on my hands.
“Something seems off, this underground shit is too shady.” I swallow hard, replaying all the paperwork I had to sign.
“You are being paid over five hundred thousand for just being here Camden. If you win, it’s a million dollars and a contract for the MFC. Opportunities don’t just present themselves like this. Do you know what you can do with that kind of money son?
I jerk my hand from him. “I know how much I’m being paid.”
A slight knock sounds at the door before it’s pushed open and Silvia Machen walks in. Her black hair shining among the cheap lights.
“How is our number one fighter feeling?” She smiles, but it’s fake. There’s something about this woman that is toxic.
“He’s ready,” Thomas answers for me.
“Great, I just want to make sure we go over everything one last time, to assure there are no issues once you’re in the cage.” She crosses her arms, and sticks her hip out.
“I know the rules—” Well, what rules they do have.
“Great, so you know you are not to talk about The Underground octagon to anyone?”
“Yes,” I huff, flexing my left hand that Thomas just taped. “I signed the NDR, we’ve been through this.”
“You didn’t talk to anyone or suggested its presence to anyone before tonight?”
“In the paperwork, it didn’t say what would happen if I did speak a word about the fight. What happens?”
She gives me an unreadable look, as if I’m brave to even ask.
“If you must know, you’re dealing with the some of the top profiles in the country Mr. Steele. The people bidding here tonight rather enjoy their entertainment in The Underground and will not take threats lightly. If their entertainment is at risk of someone breaking the only rule we have, they may… shall we say… do what comes natural to them.”
“You mean kill?”
“Oh I’m sure they’re much more creative than that.” A sly smile crosses her face, as mine pales.
“Don’t break the rules, and you’ll be fine.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I inhale a sharp breath.
“Got it.”
Glancing up through my blonde hair I eye her.
“Who am I fighting?”
She smiles so big wrinkles form around her eyes.
“You’ll see… and good luck Mr. Steel, and remember; all is fair in fighting and surviving.”
I sit there, taking in those words. Their meaning, and suddenly think…
I’m in way over my head.
My walkout song plays as smoke and fog drifts around the arena so thick I can’t see in front of me. The ground underneath my feet is moist, the concrete chipped and uneven.
There’s people yelling from the crowd, but I can’t see their faces from the lights and steam. Glancing up there’s tinted boxes, no doubt holding some of the highest bidders.
Entering the octagon, a man in jersey shorts and a white fitted t-shirt slaps my back.
“Good luck.” His voice is deep and strong. He pushes my lower back, ushering me into the octagon. I’m not checked for anything illegal, and no Vaseline is applied to my face.
Stepping inside, I glance around, my heart racing like I’ve just done a line of drugs. I’ve been in many cages before, but for some reason… this one feels different. The white floor is smeared with blood stains, a lot of blood. The metallic smell making my stomach twist. The cage is rusted and chipped, the bleachers are dark to where I can’t see anyone.
The crowd starts going crazy in excitement again, the sound of an unfamiliar song playing. I glance around trying to see where my opponent may be coming from, but I can’t see anything from the lights and fog.
I bounce on the balls of my feet, trying to clear the nerves. You got this. You can do this.
The cage opens, and in steps Bret. Bret from school. He moved our freshman year in high school, and I haven’t seen him since.
“Bret?” My heart stops, my eyes widening.
His eyes find mine and widen in surprise.
“You’re fighting now?” My brows pinch together in question.
He jumps on his feet, smacking his gloves together.
“Yeah, about a year now!” his voice rises to be heard above the chaos. I relax some. Knowing they didn’t just pick him off at his house and throw him into an unmarked van before tossing him in a cage. With the things I’ve seen tonight, that wouldn’t surprise me.
“Are you ready for a fight that will leave you at the edge of your seat?” The announcer speaks into the intercom, and the crowd goes crazy. “A fight among friends, a fight that will test the limits of right and wrong!” They roar, but I’m hardly in any excitement. They planned this fight, they knew Bret and I knew each other and put us against each other to make profit. I exhale, rolling my shoulders. They never said making it to the top would be easy. I can do this.
“Let’s give a big round of applause to Camden Steel and Bret ‘Neanderthal’ Hollis!” The announcer yells, the speaker whistling from the overbearing noise.