Chapter Four.
Mike
Whatever Dynamo was thinking turned her eyes dark. Pain and agony radiated from them alongside a hollowness I understood only too well. Grief mixed with shame, guilt, and a soul-wrenching despair warred for dominance. Put together, they meant only one thing.
Christ, I’d seen that expression on hundreds of victims, young and old.
Now I understood why Dynamo had been absent for four months.
She’d been trafficked. Casually, I turned back to the stove, well aware Dynamo might realise I’d guessed.
This required patience and a change in my approach.
Undoubtedly, she was strong; Dynamo had survived and was still standing.
Shit, she was kicking ass and taking names.
Dynamo’s obsession with training became clear.
She’d never be a victim again. What I wanted to understand was how that had happened.
There was something special about the club, especially around their members with abilities.
Dynamo was one of them. She had telekinesis and was strong in it.
I’d never tell anyone, but she was fuckin’ terrifying.
So how the hell had she been held hostage?
Once I’d regained control, I turned back. “Shout Raven and Robin to set the table, please.”
Dynamo visibly jolted. “Sure.”
Damn, I’d lost her; I recognised that as Dynamo stood up. “Mike, I’ve got somewhere to be. Thanks for accepting the apology.” With that, Dynamo walked away. She called the girls for dinner, said goodbye, and disappeared.
Shit. What was it about her that got under my skin?
Dynamo
Slasher wrapped my hands in preparation for tonight’s cage match.
Everything was building up inside, and I needed a release before I blew.
Slasher held my mouthguard, and I bit it into place.
No other protection was worn: no headgear, no pads.
This was a bare-knuckle fight, and I was ready.
I craved pain—to deliver and to receive it.
That way I knew I was alive and not back in that hellhole.
“Are you sure about taking Knuckles on?” Slasher asked.
“Yup.”
Slasher looked worried, rightfully so.
I was fighting Knuckles, not exactly an original name, but he’d do.
Knuckles was what we called a managed fighter.
He had a manager, but fought for himself, not for anyone else.
Despite us being illegal, there was method to the chaos.
Everyone loved quoting the line, ‘first rule of Fight Club is there are no rules’. Bullshit. There were definitely rules.
Don’t hit the customers, those who’d come to watch. If the ref stops the match, you stop, or you’re banned from fighting in the ring again. The only course open would be to move state or the death fights, which I refused to manage. Some stuff was too dark.
Refusal to listen to the referee gets you tazed.
While you’re flopping like a fish out of water, your opponent can beat the crap out of you and you can’t defend yourself.
Pay your bets, or someone finds you down an alley.
No weapons unless it’s a sanctioned weapon fight.
And if you’re watching, don’t start shit or you’re in the ring yourself.
These rules were heavily enforced. Screw them over, and you’re expelled with a lifetime ban. Different states had their own rules. These were mine, and I owned the fighting circuit in Maine. Fights didn’t happen without my permission. If you didn’t like that, fuck off. Life was that simple.
I warmed up by throwing a few punches as Slasher watched. In Maine, mixed-sex matches were a thing. Some states preferred to keep each gender in its own lane. Not here. You fought anyone you wished. People like me were able to be choosy about their opponents, same as Knuckles.
For a while, his manager had wanted Knuckles to fight me. Tonight, I’d grant his wish; I really needed to pound someone, and Knuckles was capable of taking it.
The crowd’s roars and the countdown told me somebody bit the dust. Time to take Knuckles down.
As I walked through the crowd, the commentator introduced Knuckles and me. Betting had been wild on our bout. Knuckles was coming out ahead because of his sheer size. And like me, he’d never lost.
The brute was already in the cage as I climbed inside. We must have appeared like David and Goliath. My five-foot-five to his towering six-foot-nine. Knuckles’ muscles made mine look like matchsticks, and the fucker was uglier than sin. Yeah, this guy was badass, but he’d not met me.
He grinned, showing missing front teeth. Knuckles, despite his size, was quite fast, but not as agile as me, and always used punches, eschewing utilising his legs. I had to get Knuckles on his knees to win, which meant kicking, as he had the arm range on me.
The bell rang, and we moved towards each other.
Knuckles was swinging punches, which I evaded easily as I sprang and launched at his chest. He stepped backward as planned, and I brought both fists down on a meaty leg. Knuckles roared as I landed the first blow and swung heavily.
I ducked under a roundhouse, but his second skimmed my cheek. That hurt. Instead of losing control, I pulled back and kicked his left leg. My foot hammered into his thigh, and Knuckles staggered back. A fist smashed into my head, and I shook the dizziness off.
Knuckles hurt, but I’d been through worse. I kept weaving around, trading blows. Knuckles soon realised he couldn’t knock me out with a hammer blow and began using strategy. But let’s be honest, he wasn’t great.
Knuckles tried to trap me against the cage chains, but failed as I hit the floor and slipped between his legs and kicked the back of his knee three times.
He was limping now, and the next strong strike should take him down.
The fight got dirty. A punch I received should have knocked me out; instead, I fought back, and Knuckles spat another tooth on the mat.
He grinned and attacked again. This time Knuckles punched high.
Like lightning, I ducked under his reach and pummelled his side. Knuckles cursed and hit the ground as his tree trunk arms swung at me. If Knuckles got me in an embrace, he’d break ribs, so shoving away, I lashed out, and Knuckles dropped to a knee.
Quickly, I was up on his back and attempting to lock in a chokehold. Unfortunately, my arms were slick with sweat, and I didn’t get it secured. Knuckles slung me over his head, and I crashed into the chains.
I took a few seconds to study Knuckles. We were both assessing our next move. Knuckles still had the arrogance that he was capable of winning with power, and that was his mistake.
Stomping, Knuckles launched a flurry as I climbed the cage walls and jumped from above.
My thinner frame swung through his defence, and my fist smashed into his jaw.
Using my momentum, I scrambled around the thick body and redid the chokehold.
This time I locked it in, and Knuckles scratched at my arms.
In an unexpected move, Knuckles dropped backwards, and the air left my lungs in a wheeze as my back hit the mat.
I let go, and Knuckles rose and slammed me into the floor a second time.
A rib cracked, and I yelped. Anger swept over me. Fuck, I should have expected this. As Knuckles moved to repeat the move, I rolled away and stood. Vicious eyes glared with pure rage. Knuckles was pissed I’d got the lock on.
He launched an uppercut, and it glanced off my chin, rattling teeth.
Slasher yelled something from outside, but I ignored him as I focused on the tank bearing down on me.
I scissor-kicked as he got close and knocked him back.
Knuckles shook it off, attacked, grabbed me in a hold, and threw me into chains again.
The hits were starting to take a toll, but I needed to bring him down now.
I rose, slower this time but even more determined not to lose.
Taking a chance, I ran and leapt. My fist flew, hitting Knuckles’ eye, and he roared.
On a roll, I swept his legs, and Knuckles went down like a tree.
Instantly resuming the chokehold, this time I wrenched backwards, arching his spine and stopping him from rolling.
Knuckles struggled to break free, and in a quick move, I smashed his face into the mat before reapplying.
Now it was just a matter of time. Slowly, Knuckles faded. Seconds ticked past, and I fought with everything I had to stop being bucked off, but finally Knuckles hit the mat unconscious. The ref declared me the winner, and I rose unsteadily. Knuckles had done damage.
Two black eyes were forming; my cheekbone was shattered, and my jaw felt wrong. My nose had also been broken. In addition, I had at least three cracked ribs, a possible concussion, a sprained wrist, and gashes to my back where the chains had cut into my flesh. But I remained undefeated.
I hobbled over to Slasher as the door opened, and he reached up to help me down the steps. My rapidly swelling eyes landed on Mike standing in the throng, fury burning in his expression.
I nodded before limping away. I think I’d also pulled my hamstring.
“How long did the fight last?” I asked. Yup, my jaw was fucked.
“Twenty minutes,” Slasher replied grimly.
Wow, that long? Hadn’t felt like it. The crowd roared, and I turned and saw Knuckles standing in the ring. He raised a fist in respect before his eyes rolled up and he hit the mat hard.
Yeah, as much damage as he’d caused me, I’d returned it. Slasher walked me to the dressing room where Wisecrack was waiting. Instantly, all the pain I felt disappeared as he blocked it. Slasher’s hands glowed blue as he checked me over, seeking the worst injuries.
“How are you breathing?” Slasher snarled as he hovered over my ribs. “One pierced a lung.”
“Can’t feel anything…” I giggled, patting Wisecrack’s hand.
Wisecrack glowered. “What were you thinking? Everyone knows Knuckles is a lunatic!”
“That I could kick his ass, and I did!” I retorted.
“This shit needs to stop,” Wisecrack growled.