The Underground Fighter

Court date

Damon woke up on the couch, still in his bloody clothes. His body was bruised. He tried to sit up. Failed. Tried again. Made it to his elbows.

Three broken ribs. Maybe four. He had lost count.

The envelope with the two thousand dollars sat on the coffee table. He had put it there before collapsing. Hadn't even counted it. Hadn't cared. All that mattered was that it existed.

He lay back down. Stared at the water stain on the ceiling. It had grown again. Like a living thing feeding on the decay of the apartment.

His phone buzzed.

Elaine Park. The lawyer Leo had recommended.

"Leo told me about you. Call me when you can. We need to talk before the court date."

Damon saved the number. Didn't call. Not yet. He needed to think first. Needed to plan.

He needed to survive.

By noon, Damon forced himself upright.

He shuffled to the bathroom. Stripped off his bloody clothes. Looked at himself in the mirror.

The man staring back was a stranger. Purple bruises covered his torso. His ribs bulged at odd angles. His knuckles were black and blue. His face was swollen on the left side where The Butcher's cross had landed.

Thirty-two years old. He looked like he had been in a car wreck.

He turned on the shower. Cold water. Hot water. He didn't care. He stood under the spray until his skin turned red and his muscles stopped screaming.

Then he got dressed. Clean clothes. Jeans. A black hoodie. He wrapped his ribs with the elastic bandage. Taped his knuckles. Hid the damage as best he could.

He looked almost normal. Almost human.

The phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

"Congratulations on your win. The Dravens are impressed. Impressed enough to make you an offer."

Damon stared at the screen. His blood went cold.

Another text.

"Walk away from Lucy. Sign over your parental rights. In exchange, we will give you fifty thousand dollars. Enough to start over. Enough to forget."

Fifty thousand dollars.

More money than Damon had seen in his entire life. Enough to pay for Elaine Park. Enough to leave the city. Enough to pretend the last seven years never happened.

He typed back: "No."

The response came in ten seconds.

"That was your only offer. From now on, we take."

Damon put the phone down. His hands were shaking. Not from fear. From rage.

They thought they could buy him. Thought every man had a price.

They didn't know him at all.

Damon called Elaine Park at two o'clock.

She answered on the second ring. Her voice was sharp. Professional. No warmth. No small talk.

"Mr. Corso. I've reviewed your case. It's not good."

"I know."

"The Dravens have three lawyers. I have one paralegal. They have a judge who owes them favors. I have the law." She paused. "The law doesn't always win."

"How much to make it win?"

"Ten thousand retainer. Plus court costs. Plus my time. Total could be twenty-five thousand by the time we're done."

Twenty-five thousand dollars.

Damon closed his eyes. The tournament Frank had mentioned paid twenty thousand to the winner. Twenty thousand. Plus the two thousand he already had. Plus whatever else he could win in the next four weeks.

"I'll have the money."

"By the court date? That's three weeks away."

"Yes."

A long pause. He could hear her breathing. Could hear her thinking.

"You're doing something illegal to get it, aren't you?"

"I'm doing what I have to."

Another pause. Then: "I don't want to know the details. But I need to know you won't get arrested before the court date. If you have a record, we lose automatically."

"I won't get arrested."

"You sound sure."

"I am."

"Then I'll represent you. But I need five thousand by Friday. Non-refundable. That's my f*e for putting your file at the front of my desk."

Friday. Three days from now.

"I'll have it."

"Then I'll see you Friday afternoon. My office. Four o'clock. Don't be late."

The line went dead.

Damon put the phone down. Looked at the envelope on the coffee table. Two thousand dollars. He needed five thousand by Friday. That meant three thousand more.

Three thousand dollars in three days.

There was only one way to get that much money that fast.

Damon called Frank.

Frank answered on the third ring. "Corso. You're still alive."

"Barely."

"What do you want?"

"I need a fight. Tonight."

A pause. "You just fought last night. Your ribs are broken. You can barely walk."

"I can still fight."

"You can still die. There's a difference."

"I need three thousand dollars by Friday."

Frank was quiet for a long time. Damon could hear voices in the background. The sounds of the warehouse. Men training. Men bleeding.

"There's a fight tomorrow night," Frank said finally. "Not a main event. A warm-up. Winner takes fifteen hundred."

"Fifteen hundred isn't enough. I need three thousand."

"Then win two fights. One tomorrow. One Thursday. That's three thousand. Assuming you don't die in the first one."

Damon did the math. Tomorrow night. Thursday night. Friday afternoon with Elaine Park.

It was possible. Barely.

"Sign me up."

"You're insane, Corso. You know that?"

"Probably."

"I'll send you the address. Don't be late."

The line went dead.

Damon put the phone down. His body was already screaming at him. Protesting. Begging for rest.

He ignored it.

He walked to the kitchen. Ate a can of beans cold, standing over the sink. Drank a glass of water. Took three painkillers left over from his construction accident.

Then he lay down on the couch. Closed his eyes.

He needed to sleep. Needed to heal. Needed to be ready for tomorrow night.

His phone buzzed one last time.

Unknown number.

No words this time. Just a photo.

Lucy. Sitting on a couch in a room Damon didn't recognize. She was wearing a dress he had never seen. Her hair was braided differently. She was smiling.

But her eyes were empty.

She looked like a doll. Dressed up. Displayed. Soulless.

Damon stared at the photo for a long time. His hand shook. His chest ached. His heart cracked a little more.

They had sent the photo to hurt him. To remind him that she wasn't his anymore.

They had made a mistake.

The photo didn't break him. It fueled him.

Damon saved the photo. Set it as his phone background.

Then he closed his eyes and waited for tomorrow.