The Underground Fighter

Digging secrets

Damon didn't go straight to Frank's.

He stood outside Elaine Park's office for a long time. The sun was setting. His phone buzzed again. Marcus: "Frank is waiting."

Damon typed back: "Tell him I'll come tomorrow. I need rest."

Marcus: "Frank doesn't like waiting."

Damon: "Frank can wait."

He put the phone away. Walked toward the bus stop. His ribs screamed with every step. His knuckles throbbed. His right eye was still half-closed. The bruise on his cheek had turned from purple to yellow overnight. He looked like a man who had been dragged behind a car.

He needed to think. Not about fights or money or lawyers. About something simpler.

Survival.

"""""" """""" """""

The bus dropped him three blocks from his apartment. He walked slowly. The neighborhood was dark. Streetlights flickered. Men stood on corners, watching. Women walked fast with their heads down. This is his world now. Cracked sidewalks and broken dreams. The smell of garbage and desperation hung in the air like a second skin.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment. Each step was a small war. His legs felt like wet sandbags. His back throbbed with every movement. He unlocked the door. Stepped inside.

The apartment was dark. Empty. Silent. No Lucy. No Olivia. No sound at all except his own breathing and the distant hum of traffic.

Damon didn't turn on the lights. He walked to the couch. Sat down. Pulled out the envelopes from under the cushion.

He had given five thousand to Elaine Park. That money was gone. Spent. Invested in a lawyer who promised to destroy the Dravens.

He had zero dollars left.

Zero.

Damon leaned back. Stared at the water stain on the ceiling. The stain had grown again. It looked like a map of a country he didn't want to visit. His body was broken. His bank account was empty. His daughter was gone.

And yet.

He had won four fights. He had survived Viktor, The Butcher, Tommy, and Dante. He had met Leo Rojas. He had found Elaine Park. He had five thousand dollars in a lawyer's desk drawer, working for him.

He was not the same man who had collapsed in the rain fifty-eight days ago.

That man had been weak. Hopeful. Desperate for a miracle. That man had believed in justice. In fairness. In a world where good people won and bad people lost.

This man was hard. Patient. Willing to bleed for every inch. This man knew that justice was a lie and fairness was a dream. The only truth was pain. The only currency was blood.

His phone buzzed.

Leo: "Elaine called me. She took the case. Good work."

Damon: "She took the money. That's different."

Leo: "Same thing in her world. You're in. Now we need a plan."

Damon: "What kind of plan?"

Leo: "The Dravens have money. Power. Connections. You have fists. That's not enough. You need more than Elaine Park. You need leverage."

Damon: "What kind of leverage?"

Leo: "Information. Olivia knew things about her family. Secrets. She told me once, before she died, that her father wasn't the man everyone thought. I've been digging. Quietly. There's something there. I can feel it in my bones."

Damon: "Find it."

Leo: "I will. But it takes time. And money. I need five hundred dollars for a researcher I trust. He's expensive but he's good. He finds things other people can't."

Damon stared at the screen. Five hundred dollars. He had zero.

Damon: "I'll get it."

Leo: "How? You just gave everything to Elaine."

Damon: "I'll fight again."

Leo: "Your ribs are broken. You can barely walk. You expect me to believe you can fight?"

Damon: "They still work. My fists still work. That's all I need."

A long pause. Then: "There's a fight on Sunday. Not Frank's pit. Somewhere else. Smaller. Riskier. Winner takes eight hundred. Loser takes nothing. No ambulance on standby. No doctor. If you get hurt really bad, you're on your own."

Damon: "Send me the address."

Leo: "You're going to kill yourself, Corso. I've seen men like you. They don't last long."

Damon: "Not today. And not tomorrow. I'll last as long as I need to."

Leo: "Fine. I'll send the address. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Damon put the phone down. Closed his eyes.

Sunday. Three days from now. Eight hundred dollars. Enough for Leo's researcher. Enough to start digging into the Dravens' secrets.

He thought about Olivia. Her smile. The way she laughed at his bad jokes. The way she held Lucy like she was the most precious thing in the world. The way she looked at him sometimes, like she wanted to tell him something but couldn't find the words.

She had secrets. Things she never told him. About her family. About why she really ran away. About what she had seen.

Leo was going to find those secrets.

And when he did, Damon would use them. He would drag the Dravens through the mud. He would expose every crime, every lie, every drop of blood on their hands.

And then he would get Lucy back.

His phone buzzed one more time.

Unknown number.

"We know you hired Elaine Park. Good luck. You'll need it. — A.D."

Alistair.

Damon stared at the screen. His blood boiled. His hands shook. The name burned into his eyes like a brand.

He typed back: "I don't need luck. I need my daughter."

The response came in five seconds.

"Then come get her. If you can."

Damon put the phone down. Didn't respond. He wouldn't give Alistair the satisfaction of a reaction. That was what the old man wanted. Fear. Anger. Desperation.

Damon would give him none of those things.

He looked at Lucy's photo. Her empty eyes. Her braided hair. Her dress he had never seen.

"Sunday," he whispered to the photo. "Three more days. Then eight hundred dollars. Then Leo starts digging. Then we find the secrets that will destroy them."

The photo didn't answer. It never did.

But Damon kept looking at it anyway. He traced her face with his thumb. Remembered the way she used to climb into his lap and fall asleep. The way she smelled like soap and sunshine. The way she said "Daddy" like it was the only word that mattered.

He would get her back. He would burn the world down if he had to.

He slept on the couch again. His body was too broken to move to the bedroom. His ribs clicked with every breath. His knuckles throbbed. His right eye had swollen and completely shut by the time it was morning.

But he woke up. And that was enough.