I  wrap my left hand with the white hand-wrap, staring down with zero hint of emotion.

  Today is August sixteenth: my first scheduled fight.

   And though I may look calm and collected, uncaring on the outside. My heart beating inside my chest tells a whole different story.

   I'm nervous.

   I finish my left hand, pushing it inside the red boxing glove Felix is holding out for me. He assists me in tying it up - seeing as my other hand is already in a glove, stepping back once he's done.

   I stand up as Frances motions for me to follow him, heading out the little room we're currently in.

   He stops right before the door that most likely leads out, flipping the hood from the black robe I'm wearing up over my head.

   "Remember," Frances stares at me. "Win and you'll have nothing to worry about. Lose on the other hand, and you'll have plenty to worry about." He states, raising an eyebrow at me.

   Not like he hasn't said that about five times already.

   He opens the white door, stepping out as I trail behind him. The smell immediately hits me first, the stench almost making my nose curl.

   Body odor, cigarette smoke, alcohol, trash, and just any other disgusting smell you can think of all combined together.

  Next is the noises: people yelling, a person talking over the other people on a loud speaker. Chaos.

   People - about fifty or so, sit on wood benches that go around the room in a square. All circling the boxing ring that's positioned in the middle of the room.

   A blinding light shine down on the ring, a person with a microphone standing in the middle as he riles the crowd up.

  I keep my head down after I've looked it over, my deep hood concealing my face.

  "Who's ready for more action!?" The person with the microphone yells, pointing around all the people.

   As an answer, there's a loud chorus of agreement from the crowd.

   I can sense Felix walking behind me, everyones eyes falling on my concealed form.

  Frances walks over to the left corner of the ring, stopping in front of someone. "There you are!" I resist the urge to flinch at the sound of Ben's over-happy voice.

  I look up, meeting Ben's eyes with my emotionless ones.

~~~~~
Ben's (POV)

  He stares up at me with emotionless brown eyes, not a hint of fear in them.

  I look him over, immediately liking what I see - though I can't see everything due to him wearing his boxing robe.

  I nod my head in obvious approval. "Oh yes Frances. You did a nice job, a nice job indeed." I praise him.

   Frances snorts, crossing his arms. "Don't congratulate me yet. He's gotta win first." He glances over at Alex, eyes hard with a clear threat.

   I feel a stab of guilt, though I'm not really sure why. I'm part of a gang, a underground gang. Which means we do things ruthlessly and without pity.

   Why should I care that I'm fully aware that Frances purposely beats Alex up every morning, just so he'll learn not to 'feel' anything?

   I told him to train him, and that's what I should've expected.

   I wave a hand carelessly in front of my face, leaning closer to Alex. "I'm sure Alex here won't...disappoint us." I pat his shoulder, a smirk growing on my lips. "Unless he wants some dire consequences."

   Frances grunts, pushing Alex closer towards the edge of the ring. He grab one of the ropes, pulling himself up and under them.

  Alex moves to the corner, and Felix moves up with him.

   "Ladies and gentlemen!" Brad - the announcer, yells as another person takes his place in the other corner.

    "We're now ready for the next contestants!" He gives a big motion over towards the other side.

    "For the Villus gang, we have Tomahawk!" The crowd cheers, some booing. I smile at their gang members name, not that anyone's is that awesome around here. The announcer glances over at Me.

    I give him a nod.

    Raising an eyebrow, he motions over at Alex. "And for the Plaitos, we have a newbie: The Underdog!" He yells.

    Yes, Plaitos and Villus. All the different gang groups are named after constellations. Horrible I know, but I didn't have anything to do with it.

   The room suddenly goes quiet as Felix pulls Alex's robe completely off, everyone too surprised to say anything.

   Both from the fact he looks pretty young - younger then anyone who competes here, and that he's literally covered in scars.

   I feel another stab of guilt as I spot a large red irritated area on his upper back, the spot where Frances has been beating him.

  That's quickly replaced with self pride as I fully look him over. No longer does he look like the malnourished stick I saw three weeks ago.

   Now he looks like a well oiled machine.

  His ribs don't show nearly as much as they did before, his stomach and chest tight with sleek muscles. His shoulders seem almost wider, his arms now thicker with muscles. Even his back shows signs of lean muscles, his scars now stretched across firm skin.

   Oh yes, Frances is by far one of the best trainers in the world.

  I frown as laughter starts up in the room. "Put a real fighter in!" Alex stares straight ahead, his face blank.

   Oh don't worry. He's a real fighter alright.

~~~~~~~~
Alex's (POV)

   Felix helps me pull my right arm out of the robe. "And for the Plaitos, we have a newbie: The Underdog!" The announcer yells.

   Felix pulls my robe completely off, the room going quiet with surprise as they take in my bare upper body.

  My chest tightens, lungs squeezing in protest.

   I force myself to stand straighter as a couple laughs begin to echo around the room, the disbelief turning to outrage.

  "Put a real fighter in!" I stare straight ahead, my face blank. "Where's his mommy. He's gonna need her!" More laughing starts up as a few more people in the crowd join in on the the teasing, a barely contained smile on the announcers face.

   Felix steps down off the raised mat, standing beside Frances and Ben.

   The announcer motions is towards the middle, and I look over my opponent.

   Maybe in his late twenties, buff yet not huge. His face shows a hint of hesitation, clearly saying he's almost as new to this as I am. He's got a fresh bruise around his right eye, another one on his left side.

    We both stop on either side of the announcer.

    "Alright, everything goes. First one down loses." He quickly instructs, raising his arm up before slicing it down.

   He steps back as a loud ring signals the start.

   Tomahawk immediately swings out with a left hook, and I easily step to the back to dodge it. My hands up to guard my face, elbows tucked in, feet positioned correctly.

    Everything Frances has ever-so-kindly drilled into my mind these past three weeks.

   I keep myself on the defensive side, waiting for the opportunity to strike. I move backwards as he pushes forward, the crowd booing in outrage as they scream from more action.

  Breath Alex. Breath.

  My eyes unconsciously keep flickering out towards the crowd, taking in everyone who's staring at me. Every scar on my body seems to sizzle like they're fresh, my limbs stiff.

   Fifty or so pairs of eyes staring at me. Watching me.

   My heart picks up in my chest, my mind growing cloudy with panic as my tough facade begins to fall apart.

   I wince as I'm mentally transported back to each morning lately, Frances beating me while I'm forced to hold completely still. Forced to barely even breath.

   His threats echo in my head, settling everything back in place.

   My head suddenly snaps painfully to the left as Tomahawk sends a right hook into my face, my cheek stinging.

   I quickly fix the gap in my defense, keeping my feet moving.

   Tomahawk already seems like he's breathing hard, his arms hanging a little lower, feet not moving nearly as much as they should.

   He sends a volley of fast jabs at me, his eyes lighting with determination.

   The breath rushes from my lungs as one of them hits the side of my stomach, a sharp stab running through it.

   Tomahawk uses my momentarily distraction to his advantage, aiming a overhand directly for my face.

   I dodge back, but not fast enough.

   It glances off the side of my forehead, the force still hard enough to knock me backwards.

   I'm suddenly hit again and again, my arms coming up to protect my face as I try to clear my now rattled brain.

   What am I doing?

   Why am I even fighting back in the first place? Why should I even bother to try and survive? There's no point. No point.

   I'm abruptly hit hard on the left side of my head, my vision going black for a second as I fall down towards the ground.

   My body smacks against the dirty mat, everything going in slow motion as I look around with foggy eyes.

   There's a pounding in my head, a liquid seeping out of my left ear. My heart beats slowly in my chest, each one painful.

   The people in the crowd are now standing, their faces twisted with satisfied anger as they yell.

    Images of Mack's goofy face, Polly's analyzing eyes, and the Browns gentle kindness they both have, all flash before my eyes.

   I take in a breath, my arms tensing.

   If I ever want to actually have a chance to see them again, then I have no choice. I have to win this. No matter what the consequences are.

   I use my momentum from falling to bounce myself back up, my eyes clearing, everything resuming at normal speed.

   My right fist connects with the side of Tomahawks surprised face, his head snapping to the side.
  
   I follow with a left hook, my gloved fist connecting with his fresh bruise on his side as he's momentarily distracted. I immediately swing around with my right fist, it connecting with his other side.

   I swing my left fist up, hitting him square in the nose.

  There's a small crack, and Tomahawk lets a pained grunt out, his hands automatically coming up to hold his nose.

   His body now stands in a slouch, blood dribbling down a most likely broken nose, eyes unsteady with exhaustion.

   I plant my right foot, swinging my body to the left as I go in a circle, my right fist coming out as I complete it. I put all my weight in my punch, hitting Tomahawk straight in the middle of his face.

   His eyes widen, his body falling backwards. His head hits the mat, a resounding whack meeting my ears.

   His body goes limp, eyes shut.

  I breath heavily through my nose, every spot he hit me smarting with renewed strength. I stare down at him, suddenly feeling unclean after doing what I promised myself I'd never do again.

   Hurt someone.

   The room stays quiet for a minute. Then, like a fires been lit. The crowd stands up, people resuming their loud yelling.

   Only this time, this time it's not to mock me.

   "Underdog, Underdog, Underdog!" More than half the crowd chants, the other half yelling stuff that can't be heard over the others.

   The announcer walks back in the ring, coming to stand beside me.

   He grabs my hand, holding it up above my head. "Ladies and gents. May I present you with our new winner!" He looks over at me.

   "The Underdog!" The crowd cheers louder with his enthusiasm, hands clapping.

   What've I done?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N

   Hey! So I finally updated...🤗 Sorry it's such a short chapter and it probably wasn't very interesting.

   But I promise the next fighting scene will be much better! (Hopefully)

  Questions:

  1.) were you expecting Alex to win?

  ......That's all I got XD.

Announcement!

So for any of you who don't know this, I recently started another book called Unmasking MidKnight. It's a Action book with superheroes and all that. So if you like that sort of thing, I'd love it if you'd take a look! And even if you don't like that sort of thing, I'd still appreciate you checking it out. (Who knows. You might like it anyway.)

   COMMENT! VOTE!! CHECK OUT MY OTHER BOOK! 🎉🎉

Next update: If not by the end of the week, then most likely next week.

Maggy