Lord-Campione
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Chapter 05: Fire From The Mortals
🕑 Added 2024-11-21 00:26:39 +0000 UTCWinning was survival. And survival was the only thing Adrian knew how to do anymore.
The underground fighting ring wasn’t glamorous—it was barely legal, if you could even call it that—but it paid. Enough for food. Enough for a roach-infested motel room when he got lucky. Enough to keep going.
The arena itself was buried deep under an old nightclub in Washington, D.C., hidden behind thick metal doors and layers of sweaty men in cheap suits who guarded it like it was the Pentagon. The fighters didn’t get to see much beyond the concrete-walled “locker room” and the caged pit where the fights took place. The crowd, mostly rich men and a few women who liked to gamble on violence, sat in a circle above the pit, throwing cash and shouting insults. They didn’t care about the fighters. They cared about blood. And Adrian gave them plenty of that.
The fight tonight had been a tough one. His opponent was some karate hotshot named Manny, a guy with too many trophies and not enough scars. Manny had come in confident, all smooth footwork and flashy kicks, smirking like Adrian was just another step on his way to stardom. But Adrian didn’t care about style. Style didn’t put food in your stomach. Style didn’t keep you alive.
Adrian’s fighting was ugly. He knew it. He didn’t care.
The moment the bell rang, Manny tried to keep his distance, dancing around the cage and snapping out quick kicks that made the crowd cheer. Adrian didn’t play along. He came in low and fast, bulldozing through Manny’s fancy footwork and slamming him into the cage. His fists flew in wild, looping arcs, pummeling Manny’s ribs and shoulders like a sledgehammer smashing concrete. Manny yelped, trying to block, but Adrian didn’t stop. He didn’t give him time to breathe.
When Manny managed to land a sharp elbow to Adrian’s jaw, Adrian didn’t flinch. Pain was just a reminder that you were still alive. He grabbed Manny’s head and yanked it down, slamming his knee into his opponent’s face with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across the mat as Manny stumbled back, his nose a crooked mess.
The crowd roared. Adrian barely heard them.
Manny tried to recover, snapping out another kick, but Adrian caught his leg and yanked him to the ground. He pounced, his fists hammering down like he was trying to bury Manny in the dirt. He didn’t stop until the ref—if you could call the guy in the striped shirt a real referee—pulled him off.
Adrian stood over Manny’s broken, bloodied body, his chest rising and falling like a predator who had just taken down its prey. He didn’t raise his arms in victory. He didn’t soak in the cheers. He just stared down at Manny, his knuckles dripping blood, and muttered under his breath, “Should’ve stayed home, asshole.”
Later, in the backroom, Adrian sat at a rickety wooden table, counting his cut of the winnings. His hands were still stained with blood—some of it his, most of it Manny’s—but he didn’t bother cleaning them yet. The money came first. It always came first.
“You’re a real freakin’ animal, you know that?” a voice said.
Adrian didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. He knew that voice. It was Lou, the guy who ran this whole operation. Lou was a short, wiry man with slicked-back hair and a face like a rat. He always wore the same cheap leather jacket, the kind that squeaked when he moved, and he always smelled faintly of cigars and sweat.
Lou leaned against the doorway, chewing on the end of a cigar that wasn’t lit. “Crowd loved you tonight,” he said, smirking. “That karate prick? He had some big money riding on him. Guess you ruined a few wallets.”
Adrian finished counting, stuffing the bills into his backpack. “You paying me or just running your mouth?” he muttered.
Lou chuckled, stepping into the room. “Relax, kid. You’ll get your cut. But you know, there’s more money to be made if you’re interested.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes, finally looking up. “What are you talking about?”
Lou grinned, his teeth yellow and crooked. “There’s this…organization I know. Real big-time players. Call themselves Cadmus. They’re always looking for guys with potential. You bring in money. You got that raw, nasty talent they love.”
Adrian’s stomach twisted. “Not interested.”
Lou’s grin widened. “You should be. They pay big. And I mean big. Better than this shithole, that’s for sure. They take guys like you, clean you up, turn you into something. Something that matters.”
“I said no,” Adrian snapped, standing up. He felt the tension in his shoulders, the adrenaline still buzzing through his veins.
“Suit yourself,” Lou said, shrugging. But his smirk didn’t fade. “Just keep bringing me money, kid. You’re good at that.”
Adrian started to push past him, but then his knees buckled. His vision blurred. The room spun.
“What the hell…?” he muttered, stumbling back. His hands gripped the table, but they felt weak, like they didn’t belong to him anymore.
Lou’s laugh was low and cruel. “Yeah, about that. You’ve been a good little moneymaker for me, but Cadmus is paying me a finder’s fee for guys like you. Young. Strong. Angry. They like that.” He gestured toward the guards who had stepped into the room, their arms crossed and faces blank. “Don’t take it personally, kid. It’s just business.”
Adrian’s rage flared, cutting through the fog in his head. “You son of a bitch,” he snarled, lunging at Lou. His hands closed around the man’s throat, squeezing with everything he had. Lou’s cigar tumbled to the floor as he choked and clawed at Adrian’s hands.
“Get him off me!” Lou gasped.
The guards moved fast, yanking Adrian away and slamming him into the wall. He struggled, his limbs heavy and sluggish from whatever they’d drugged him with. His vision darkened at the edges, but he kept thrashing, kept trying to get to Lou.
“I’ll kill you,” he growled, his voice slurring. “I’ll kill you.”
Lou adjusted his collar, coughing as he glared at Adrian. “Sure you will, kid. Maybe in your next life.”
The drugs hit Adrian full force then, dragging him into darkness. The last thing he saw was Lou’s smirking face, framed by the flickering fluorescent lights.
[ Lou Adrian’s " manager" ]
