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#Post#: 2871--------------------------------------------------
Haunted by the Past - Chapter 04 - Easy Money
By: RampageSports Date: February 8, 2016, 7:38 pm
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Haunted by the Past - Chapter 4 - Easy Money
August 22, 2005 - Boston, Massachusetts
Here I was again... another dingy back room in another
abandoned, indistinguishable commercial building that had been
converted into a modern-day Roman arena.
That's actually not a bad analogy. The arenas of Rome were
grand architectural wonders, the greatest of them all being the
Colosseum. They were majestic battlefields where the greatest
warriors of the day would meet in ferocious and often lethal
combat for the entertainment of the assembled masses.
This place was a sh*thole called Basement Brawls where people
like me — who were too stupid to know better — beat the hell out
of each other in front of a bunch of screaming, drunken idiots
who were mostly interested in seeing one or both fighters suffer
as much as possible.
See the similarities?
Oh, and let's not forget the organized crime angle to all of
this. Screaming, drunken stupidity aside, the betting on these
fights amounted to a lot more than just spare change. That kind
of money attracted a brand of professional criminal who each
wanted their piece of the action. They were a necessary evil,
since they were the ones who organized the fights and provided
the venues. But, they were just one more element that made you
wonder why any sane person would be a part of this circus.
I sat stoically on the metal folding chair and watched myself in
the tall, grimy mirror. You'd probably think I was taking a
long, hard look at the choices I'd made in my life, but you'd be
wrong. I was just waiting. Waiting for the knock that would
tell me it was time to walk out and stand face to face with a
woman hell bent on destroying me. Waiting for the chance to
look her in the eye and show her she wasn't good enough... that
she was just one more in a long line of broken opponents I'd
leave in my wake.
Yes... I know there's something wrong with me. But, I don't
care.
I studied the mirror some more. I certainly looked the part,
with my black shorts and red sports bra nicely offsetting my
typically white Irish skin. But the face I saw in the mirror
was not that of a fierce warrior preparing to do battle.
Instead, I just looked tired. Yesterday's long ride from Jersey
to Boston had been torture. The trouble started right away, with
bumper-to-bumper traffic before I even got out of my own state.
I slogged through it and crossed the GWB, then took the Henry
Hudson to the Saw Mill Parkway... choosing to skirt the edge of
Harlem to catch I-87 further north instead of going through and
diving into the Bronx. If the decision had helped, I couldn't
tell. Next came the Cross County to the Hutch, and it felt like
I had been driving for months by the time I got near the
Connecticut border.
Then, it was decision time, again. Go north again for I-84, or
roll the dice and try the direct route via the Merrit Parkway?
I didn't ponder the choice for too long, because who gives a
f*ck? I'm never gonna get there, anyway.
I went north, and was rewarded with mysterious pockets of
traffic in Brewster and Danbury. Then a section of I-84 known
as the Yankee Expressway led me into the expected nightmare as I
ground my way through Hartford. I tried whistling [i]Yankee
Doodle Dandy in the hope that it might change my luck, but the
traffic gods were unimpressed. Instead, I was punished for my
insolence by an accident south of Sturbridge, and once I crossed
I-95 and got near the city, the idea of progress became a joke.
It took nearly an hour to go the final four miles.
I would have been better off trotting into town on a gaited
pony.
The problem, in my eyes, is actually pretty simple. And it has
little to do with infrastructure. One look at a map of the
northeastern United States reveals a collection of interstates,
parkways and state highways so vast and numerous, it is nearly
incomprehensible. In some spots, the roadways are designed to
carry six or seven lanes of traffic in a single direction.
All of that capacity, and yet, nobody moves. Why?
There are too many people. Too many f*cking people.
Anyway... the arduous trip culminated in a night spent at a Best
Western on the edge of Southie. Not exactly royal treatment for
someone who is supposedly among the best at what she does. Of
course, when what you do is take part in completely illegal and
unsanctioned fights for money... well, then maybe the Best
Western isn't so bad.
My career is definitely high-risk. I would love to say it's
also high-reward, but that really isn't the case. Sure, I was
here for one of the biggest fights of my career. My opponent
was one of the biggest names on the underground circuit... and
she was very popular here in Beantown. With dozens of fights
under my belt and only a few losses scattered among them, I had
made quite a name for myself, too. So, this fight is something
of a big deal. It'll be my biggest paycheck to date, with
twenty-five thousand guaranteed and more if I win.
Sounds good... until you realize what might happen if I lose.
But losing is not something I'm worried about. Having done this
for nearly a decade, I have the kind of confidence that you can
only get from winning. This will not be the first 'local
champion' I've faced, and I've come out on top most of the time.
I know this fight won't be easy, but I also know what I'm
capable of. That's enough for me.
As far as the money goes, winning tonight will likely mean a
nice bonus for me. Since my opponent is a local favorite, the
bets are sure to flow in her direction. If I win, that'll be
bad for the bettors, but good for the club. My bonus will be
based on the club's take, so being the underdog is a good thing.
As a percentage, my cut will be infinitesimal. But this place
is packed and people are putting a ton of money down on this
fight. So, an extra ten thousand isn't out of the question.
Of course, my mind's not on the money, right now. I'm focused
on doing my job, and doing it well. Do that, and the rest will
take care of itself.
There was a knock on the door, but it wasn't the one I was
expecting.
The door opened and in came two men. The first was white with
dark blond hair. His face had the weathered look of an older
man, and I figured him to be in his late fifties or early
sixties. So the hair was probably dyed, but it was well done.
He was nicely dressed in a pair of pressed black pants and a
gray sport coat.
Behind him was a black man whose chiseled form and formal
posture made him look even taller than his roughly six foot
height. He was considerably younger and his face was smooth...
save for the mustache grown down around his mouth until it
merged with the closely cropped goatee on his chin. He was
impeccably dressed in a light gray three piece suit that was so
perfectly tailored, it looked like it had been created just for
him to wear it. The white dress shirt he wore beneath the waist
coat had thin pinstripes the exact same color as the suit. He
completed the ensemble with a perfectly knotted tie, which was
also colored to that same precise shading. His head was
clean-shaven, and his eyes were hidden by the pair of wide, onyx
sunglasses he wore, despite the fact that the room was as dark
as a cave.
My initial impression was, though the older man appeared to be
the leader of the pairing, the black man was the one I had to
keep my eye on.
"Time to go?" I asked.
The older man shook his head.
"There's a problem."
Lovely.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"My name is King Powers. I'm the owner of this establishment."
Establishment. Like he was the proprietor of a five-star hotel,
instead of a career criminal running a seedy underground fight
club.
I glanced at the other man, but asked no questions. I was
confident I understood what his role was, and from the look of
his attire, he was good enough to make a lot of money doing it.
"What kinda problem?" I asked.
"You're opponent is hurt. She's not going to be able to fight."
I looked away, furiously gnashing my teeth together behind
closed lips.
"When?" I asked, finally.
"Earlier today," he answered.
That was probably bullsh*t, but it didn't matter. She wasn't
fighting, and that was that.
"You coulda told me earlier," I said disgustedly. "Coulda said
something, too. A lot of people out there now, and they're
gonna be pissed."
"I know," he said, "but I have a plan."
"I can't wait to hear it."
Getting lippy with the gangster while his hired gun was standing
right behind him. Gotta love us redheads.
Powers was still for a moment, as if he needed to work to
contain himself.
"I found a replacement," he said calmly.
The woman I was supposed to face had a track record a mile
along. She had a following in an underground 'sport' awash in
nameless faces and countless pretenders. There was no way he
had found a replacement even close to her level, especially on
such short notice.
"Who?" I asked.
"She's a local girl," he answered. "She's had a few fights, and
she's shown some potential."
"So, she sucks."
He spread his hands out in front of him.
"She's not as accomplished as your original opponent, no," he
admitted. "There's a good chance you'll have to carry her, a
little."
What he meant was, in order for the fight to come off as
anything close to competitive, I was going to have to hold
back... and probably take a few punches deliberately just to
sell things.
"F*ck that," I said, stripping off my gloves and throwing them
into my bag. "I didn't drive all the way up here to put on a
play for your audience."
"I understand," he said, forcing himself to stay patient when I
could see in his eyes he wanted to strangle me with his bare
hands.
The look seemed a little over the top, given the situation. It
made me wonder what might happen if he decided to stop
restraining himself.
"It just seems a waste for you to leave here empty-handed," he
said.
"There's not gonna be any money in this," I scoffed. "Nobody
out there is going to buy it. They'll all be looking to clean
up by putting their money on me. You'll barely make a dime, and
I won't get sh*t."
I wouldn't realize the significance of what I'd just said until
it was much too late.
I snatched my bag from the floor and headed for the door. The
black man blocked my way, and he didn't seem in a big hurry to
move. He never spoke... never flinched... never even twitched.
He just stood in front of the door, with the sunglasses making
it impossible for me to tell if he was even looking at me.
"I can guarantee you thirty thousand," Powers said.
I spun back to him with a look of total disbelief on my face.
"How?" I said. "After paying out, there's no way you'll make
anywhere close to that much."
"That's my problem," he said. "I have a reputation to uphold,
and I would rather pay you to put on a show than give my patrons
nothing at all."
Patrons. Establishment. This guy was really something.
The idea of Powers being willing to take a loss on this fight
seemed weird, and the little voice in my head told me I should
just go home. But, the only thing worse than having to brave
the nearly three hundred mile journey again was doing so with
less money in my pocket than when I'd started. Thirty grand for
what amounted to a light workout was a very tempting offer.
"How are you going to handle it, if the crowd doesn't like what
they see?" I asked.
"I have security."
"That him?" I said, nodding toward the black man.
"And others," Powers replied.
I thought a little more, then dropped my bag to the floor.
"Let's get this over with."[/i]
[hr]
Character Reference
[img]
HTML https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=0Bz8YsEjMxOhMODlHdGhIanZrTWs[/img]
Name: Richelle Winterfeld
Nickname(s):
Background: Owner of the RSI stable, former underground fighter
#Post#: 2872--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 04 - Easy Money
By: umma-manager Date: February 9, 2016, 1:08 pm
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Brilliant writing :)
Easy Money? There's no such thing...
#Post#: 2873--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 04 - Easy Money
By: Dragons Den Date: February 9, 2016, 9:29 pm
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I like the use of the 'younger you' photo. Cool touch. And
daaaamn. Careful, I'll fall for you, too. :P
On the less silly side of me being me things... awesome work. As
our esteemed leader said, indeed, brilliant writing. I love it,
and am still on the edge of my seat. Looking forward to more as
always. And I kinda already wanna punch that King guy in the
mouth myself.
Love it, Richelle! ;)
#Post#: 2875--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 04 - Easy Money
By: RampageSports Date: February 10, 2016, 8:02 am
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Thank you both, once again. :D
I never really thought of that as being 'younger me.' More like
'fighter me.' ;)
Oh, and for RP purposes, I'll state that I'm letting that 'I'll
fall for you' statement go. There's probably a few reasons for
that, but número uno has to be that there is no way in hell I'm
getting involved in this thing with Sophia and Kara. :o
Speaking of which, I see the latest chapter in that saga has
appeared. The content filter at my job is preventing me from
enjoying it now, but I'm looking forward to it. :)
Back to the picture... I'm probably not supposed to break the
fantasy, but the woman pictured is...
[list type=decimal]
[li]A professional model[/li]
[li]An amateur MMA fighter[/li]
[li]Not me ;)[/li]
[/list]
I gave her credit once before, but I should probably do so more
often. Her name escapes me now, but I'll come up with it and
credit her in the next chapter.
#Post#: 2876--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 04 - Easy Money
By: Dragons Den Date: February 10, 2016, 8:41 am
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[quote author=Rampage Sports link=topic=407.msg2875#msg2875
date=1455112962] Her name escapes me now, but I'll come up with
it and credit her in the next chapter.
[/quote]
And before you know it, she'll be in my stable. Lol. :P
Also... 'fighter you' IS 'younger you'. You're not stepping in
the cage now, are ya? :P
#Post#: 2877--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 04 - Easy Money
By: RampageSports Date: February 10, 2016, 8:52 am
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[quote author=Dragons Den link=topic=407.msg2876#msg2876
date=1455115285]
Also... 'fighter you' IS 'younger you'. You're not stepping in
the cage now, are ya? :P
[/quote]
Not with the bright lights on, no. I'll keep it in the training
room. ;)
It's funny... I never realized how much younger the "fighter"
version looks. I wonder what kind of subconscious stuff was
going on there? :P
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