"Absolutely not." Edward's stomps his way to the front door, turning the lock successfully before tucking the key away in his pocket. "You're not going with him."

"I'm not a kid Edward." I roll my eyes. "It's not like you can actually stop us."

"It's not safe Emma."

"Yes it is." I offer a half smile. "It's not that big of a deal Edward. Nothing's going to happen to me so you don't need to worry."

In the corner, Jerome sets the bottle of water which he had been drinking from down and strides towards the front door.

"Really Edward?" he taunts him. "Do you really believe that if I wish to go out this door, you can stop me?'

"Well, maybe not if we're talking physical strength but I've got the key."

His eyes light up as though he just had one of those eureka moments but Jerome only laughs at him, shaking his head.

"What's this then?" he asks, holding up the key which was supposedly resting peacefully in Edward's pocket.

"But...what..." Edward stutters. "How did you do that?"

"I'm a bodyguard." Jerome winks. "I'm sly."

Although I'm as surprised as Edward, I guffaw as Jerome turns his attention towards me, smirk in place.

"Let's go Emma." He calls, subtly moving a flabbergasted Edward out of the way with ease and shutting the door gently behind us.

"Pretty please Jerome." I plead for about the gazillionth time since the car ride began. "Just tell me how you did it."

"I already told you." He shrugs, eyes never leaving the road. "I am not going to tell you. A magician never reveals his secrets."

I huff tiredly at his reply, exhausted from all the begging. "Whatever." I sigh like the childish adult that I am. "I don't care anyway."

"Good." He replies, his lips upturning into an uncontrollable smile. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to continue the rest of this drive in peace."

It turns out the fight isn't actually taking place at the gym and we were only stopping over to pick up some of Jerome's buddies. There's five of them and I finally get to meet Asher; the guy with the corny poster down in the basement. He's a ripped, about 6 foot 4 inches tall guy with dark hair which he has tied up in a loose bun.

"Hey." He thrusts his hand out for a handshake. "Nice to finally meet you. "

"Hey...Uhh...hi." I stutter, struggling not too stare too much at his fit frame. "It's nice to meet you too."

"I've heard a lot about you."

"Really?" I blush noticeably. "All nice things I hope."

"Yeah, definitely." He winks, disappearing into the basement to get his stuff because although Jerome and I won't be participating, Asher has the exact opposite idea.

"So how long have you been cage fighting?" I ask as we resume the drive to the arena.

"Well, we don't really call it that." He gives a boyish grin. "We say Mixed Martial Arts or MMA for short."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that."

"It's no problem." He shrugs. "And it'll be about three years this summer."

"Oh wow." My eyebrows shoot up unexpectedly. "Have you ever lost a fight?"

"Several." She shakes his head but he is smiling. "You have to lose in order to win."

I consider his words for a while, subtly nodding my head as they turn over in my mind.

Since I don't grace his statement with a reply, Asher turns his attention to something else leaving me to dwell on my troubled thoughts all on my own.

The ride goes smoothly, with the incessant chatter from the guys forming a nice rowdy background so that I'm unable to really zone out in peace. I pick up a thing or two from their conversations but it is as though I'm not exactly listening to their words.

After a while, Jerome pulls the car into a large parking lot filled with an array of vehicles and puts it in park. The guys jump down excitedly and I follow suit, eager to get my first taste of an event of such unspoken popularity.

The exterior of the lacklustre building looming before us promises nothing particularly stimulating. It looks to be an old depository with age worn paint peeling off its solid walls.

"Is this it?" I ask, tugging subtly on Jerome's sleeve.

"Yeah." He sounds quite animated, as though he would rather head inside instead of talking to me. "Never judge a book by its cover Em."

I hiss loudly at his remark; the sound habitually escaping my lips before I have the good sense to stop it. Jerome doesn't seem to mind though. He shakes his head once in amusement, and then grabs hold of my arm to make sure I follow him inside.

Along with the others, we make our way down a dimly lit flight of stairs to the basement. The journey proves a bit difficult for me but I see it through; determined to get over my fear instead of allowing it rob me of what may be a once in a lifetime experience.

I stop short when the glow from the arena bathes me in warmth. The whole place has been converted with rows and rows of bright fluorescent lighting gracing the ceiling. The interior is already filled with several people of different calibres all cheering and talking loudly in a stadium seating arrangement which runs full circle around the vast space.

As we make our way further inside, I observe a man in a black suit addressing the crowd in what appears to be a welcome speech of sorts.

We stop momentarily to speak to a mountain of a man who checks the guys for tickets and IDs. He gives me a once over which turns my frightened legs to jelly before letting us through as Jerome speaks to him reassuringly.

When we take our sits somewhere in the middle, I finally allow my eyes to be drawn to the sole centre of attraction. A large octagon shaped contraption which seems to be made from meshed wire. Its edges are padded for safety and the mat looks considerably secure but that does nothing to calm my jittery nerves. As I watch, two guys enter into the ring.

The first of the two men looks like a high school jock who got a sudden growth spurt. His broad face bears a tinge of bitterness as he stares his competition down.

His opponent on the other hand, moves unhurriedly to take his place on the other side of the referee. He cracks his knuckles coolly, before winking in the general direction of the crowd, flashing rows of pearly white teeth.

"Ladies and gentlemen this is our first contest of the evening." The same man with the black suit announces in a large booming voice which startles me. "Three rounds in the UCL fight heavy weight division tonight! Standing in the red corner; this man is a mixed martial arts artist standing six feet five inches tall. All the way from Iglesias MMA, give it up for Silva Castillo, The Rampage!!"

The crowd erupts in a cacophony of jeers and cheers as the fighter waves confidently at the crowd, flashing his straight white teeth. His smile causes my stomach to do a flip so I try to focus my attention elsewhere. Beside me, the guys begin to howl, screaming his name amidst other words of encouragement. He is the same guy who winked at the crowd earlier and he quite obviously has a large following on this side of the arena.

"And standing across the cage, blue corner; this man is a mixed martial artist standing six feet three inches tall. Representing Ronin athletics give it up for Jack Willis, the ninja of love!!"

The man's voice rises and falls excitably with each word and I begin to laugh wholeheartedly as the crowd goes once again into an uproar.

"The ninja of love?" I have to scream into Jerome's ear so he can hear me.

"Meh." He shrugs, lips upturning at the sides. "Not everyone's that creative."

I shake my head, trying hard to suppress my laughter as the crowd begins to settle down.

"Ladies and gentlemen, refereeing this contest for the second time this season, the UCL's very own Mr. Dan Conway." The man in the suit leaves the stage after his final announcement and the referee begins to address the competitors.

The commentator begins to speak above the loud chattering of the crowd and I feel a rush of adrenaline force its way down my veins as the competitors get ready to face off.

The fight begins with the rampage delivering several blows to the side of his opponent's head and the crowd around me begins to hoot their encouragement.

Willis puts his head down as he goes in swinging. Swiftly, he picks the rampage off the ground before slamming him into the mat, fastening him onto it with his body weight.

The rampage retaliates fast. He succeeds in gripping his opponent in a head lock and the two begin to struggle like savage animals on the ground. Willis holds onto the rampage's leg, delivering a smooth role reversal as he lands atop his opponent.

Unfortunately, the rampage still has him in a head lock as the battle continues.

"Get him!" Jerome screams passionately beside me. On the other side, Asher and Dan howl just as loudly, smashing their scrunched up fists into their palms for good measure.

Willis is lying prone on the ground with the rampage on top of him. I now see that he also has his legs trapped and is strenuously delivering jabs in order to free himself. However, his opponent is up to the task, securing his head with one arm and using the now free arm to catch Willis's jabbing arm.

The two struggle on the floor as the commentator emphasises on the fact that both fighters are strong and going all in.

I watch as the fight continues with Willis failing to see the obvious loophole which would help him gain the upper hand. Perhaps I would have been unable to notice it before I began training with Jerome but right now, it is so apparent to me that all he has to do is spin himself so he is on his knees. The change in the angle at which his head is being held would make it easier to slide his head out from beneath the rampage.

"He's very strong Silva." The commentator's bass voice resonates enchantingly over the large crowd. "Very, very strong but let's not forget we have ground and pound but he's not using it- there we go he's using it now, he's not giving up."

The rampage rams his hand repeatedly into Jack Willis's head and I hide my face in horror.

"Boo!" the crowd on the other side of the ring scream aloud as the crowd around me eggs him on.

"Get him Willis!" I pause in my stand-up position, utterly shocked that the words had indeed come out of my own mouth.

"Why are you on his side?" Asher eyes me bitterly. "We're all for the rampage. Do you know how good a fighter he is?"

"I don't." I admit regrettably. "But I'm supporting Jack Willis instinctively."

"Screw you!" Chris, one of Jerome's friends frowns at me before returning to his earlier engagement which involved cheering the rampage on. His tone is playful and his eyes were kind but something about the arena causes my heart to beat more loudly within my chest.

His words ignite a fire within me and I begin to cheer even more loudly for Jack Willis to pick himself off the floor and win this fight.

"Spin around!" I scream, pumping my fists in the air irrespective of the fact that he cannot hear me.

Both fighters are still locked together on the mat in an ardent grapple and the sickly smell of sweat begins to permeate the atmosphere as the crowd gets wilder.

"He's looking for the jabbing arm." The commentator's eyes are glossed over with passion and hunger. "He's just now putting the arm onto his leg. This whole headlock could be given away in a bat couldn't it? All Willis has to do is spin around to his knees. It's easy to get out of this. What Willis's isn't doing is not spinning around to his knees. He's got to turn around onto his knees."

He repeats this over and over as jeers from the crowd get louder, mirroring my thoughts. I can't tell whether or not he's picked a side in this fight or if he is even allowed to have favourites.

"He's now got the arm trapped and he's pounding but nothing really significant with the punches." He announces earnestly.

I watch as Willis frees his hand successfully on to have it trapped again by his opponent. It seems my preferred competitor is indeed doomed to an unfortunate loss.

"He's got to his knees! There we go!" a thrilled baritone voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "There you go - see that's how you do it!"

Willis turns around to his knees, sliding his head out of the rampage's strong hold and successfully plants himself atop his opponent. He pins him down using his thighs and begins to deliver several blows to the rampages torso.

"Now on the mount - Oh this could be big; awesome, big shots going in. "

Jack Willis goes in with a vengeance, his arms moving rapidly like a motorboat engine as he launches several fatal strikes.

"Get him!" I cheer excitedly. Rather than feeling sickened by the sight before me as happened earlier, I now find myself bouncing on my toes and shouting words of encouragement; trying my best to drown out the boys around me who are screaming obscenities at the ring.

"The crowds are not going to like this." The commentator announces. I smile as I look over to the stands opposite me, their jeers confirming his words. "He's gonna fall off the mount - oh he changes it and we've got a choke - Big strong punches coming in from Jack Willis."

Willis retains the upper hand and continues his assault on his opponent's body, now including the face and head as the rampage tries to protect himself in his prone position.

"Willis is not going to quit with the striking – Oh!! He's out!!! He's out! Jack Willis knocks out Silva Castillo."

"Yes!!" I jump with adrenaline rushing through my veins as though I am a competitor tonight. The rampage lies defeated on the floor as the crowd erupts in shouts of joy and distress with the boys around me seemingly the loudest.

"We had very good shots there and this is obviously a very big win for Ronin here. That was a great start to the night. It was a great night, a great finish with a wonderful twist of events."

"Willis! Willis! Willis!" the crowd cheers as he soaks it all in, waving at his fans despite the obvious streams of sweat and blood dripping down his frame.

Then, he moves over to Silva Castillo, helping him up before giving him a sound clap on the back. The two shake hands, smiling as though they weren't at each other's throats just a mere minute ago.