Chapter 3
The address led me to an old warehouse on the edge of town.
Bigger than the first arena. More security. More money.
The man in the suit met me at the door.
"Vincent," he said, extending a hand.
I didn't take it.
He smiled anyway.
"Follow me."
He led me through a maze of hallways to a training room.
Weights. Bags. A small ring.
And in the corner, hitting a heavy bag so hard the chains rattled...
The Reaper.
He was huge. Taller than The Tank. Broader.
His fists were wrapped. His arms were covered in scars.
He stopped hitting the bag and turned to look at me.
His eyes were dark. Empty.
Like he'd seen too much and felt too little.
"This is your opponent," Vincent said. "Study him well. Tomorrow night, you'll be locked in a cage with him."
Vincent left.
The Reaper went back to hitting the bag.
I stood there, watching.
Scared.
An older man came over. He had a scar across his cheek and hands like old leather.
"You're the kid who beat The Tank," he said.
I nodded.
"Name's Mickey," he said. "I used to train fighters. Back when this was... legitimate."
He looked at The Reaper.
"You can't beat him with strength," he said quietly. "He's stronger than you. Faster than you. More experienced."
"Then why are you talking to me?" I asked.
"Because I saw your fight," he said. "You got up twice. Most kids don't get up once. You got heart. And heart can beat strength... if you know how to use it."
May you like
He gestured to the mats.
"Come on. We've got twenty-four hours. And we've got a lot to learn."
