Chapter Text
Seth didn’t know what to make of it when the weird guy with the black lipstick slipped him an index card with a neatly printed address on it.
The guy winked and mumbled something about the fifth dimension, but Seth didn’t pay attention, eyes drawn to the address that he knew was somewhere in the warehouse district by the docks. Somewhere that a college student that wasn’t hard up for money had no place being.
He’d heard of it before, heard that there was a place that guys could go to blow off some steam. And he’d asked around about it, but lips were sealed tight, and all he got in return were suspicious glances, like he was a narc looking to bust them for something.
The truth was that he was bored out of his mind. His classes were easy, his part time job left him feeling empty and restless, and he was getting tired of his elitist friends always whining about one thing or another. He tried sports, but other than the pleasant burn in his muscles, they didn’t do anything for him. There wasn’t enough adrenaline to get his blood pumping.
Maybe more than he was willing to admit, he had an itch that could only be scratched by the endorphin high that came from fists meeting flesh. Or maybe that was just the boredom talking. Regardless, he couldn’t deny the jealousy that seized his chest when the weird guy came to class with swollen, purple eyes and busted lips. Seth couldn’t identify whether he wanted to be the one giving the bruises or the one receiving them.
After his classes were finished for the day, waving off half-hearted attempts from his friends to get him to come to the bar, Seth admired himself in the mirror. He’d put his hair up and dressed in the tightest black clothes he owned. He knew his biceps looked fantastic flexing against the dark, stretchy material. He hoped he looked like a contender, at least, rather than a preppy university student.
When he was ready to leave, however, he hesitated.
There was a legitimate chance that he was about to have his ass handed to him for just showing up. But he’d been invited, hadn’t he? So he had just as much of a right to be there as anyone else.
He took his bike, which was much easier to get around in than a car, an old Yamaha sport bike that he’d bought for dirt cheap off a reclaimed property sale. The helmet he’d bought separately was probably the most expensive part of the thing.
From campus, it was a long drive to the warehouse district, the early evening air thick and humid. He got a few mouthfuls of exhaust and half a dozen mosquito bites before finally pulling in close to the address on the index card. He stashed his bike behind a dumpster and shook his hair out from under the helmet, letting it fall to his shoulders in its natural waves.
He was stopped by a burly man half a block out, already beginning to regret coming. For a moment, he felt his heart hammer like a machine gun against his sternum. When the man spotted the index card crumpled in Seth’s sweaty palms, he let him pass.
“Fuck,” Seth breathed, letting his hand rest against his chest. He hadn’t even got there yet, and his blood was already roaring in his ears.
As he moved closer and closer to Warehouse 412-C, the dull roar in his head became an actual dull roar, the sounds of clapping, yelling, and cheering building into a crescendo. Seth was tall enough to see over a lot of heads from the back of the crowd, but even he was impressed by the amount of huge guys, maybe fifty or so, who stood even taller than he did. Not to mention, he’d never seen so many fit people in his life.
They were goading two men who were locked in a death grip, upper bodies bare and slick with sweat. Their arms were twisted together, each trying to pain the other into submission. They broke when their skin was too slippery to maintain the hold, breathing heavily and eyeing each other tiredly, but with determination.
Finally, the man with stringy blond hair pulled the smoothest dropkick Seth had ever seen, going from standing to horizontal in a hundredth of a second. He caught his opponent on the chin, knocking him flat to the wild cheers he was getting from two-thirds of the audience. The other third looked like they’d just been punched themselves.
“You new?” a guy next to him asked, and Seth realized he’d been staring with his mouth open.
Seth grinned sheepishly, “That obvious, huh?”
The guy smiled back, and it at least seemed genuine. He was as tall as Seth, with a thick head of reddish hair and a beard to match. “Sami,” he said, holding out his left arm. Seth noticed that the right was braced against his body.
“Seth,” Seth said, accepting the hand. “I knew what to expect, but I guess I wasn’t really prepared for it.”
“It happens,” Sami said, nodding his head. “When I first got the card, it took me two weeks to even work up the courage to show. But now I can’t stay away, even when my arm’s out of business for a month.” He gestured at his right shoulder with his left hand.
“That sucks,” Seth said lamely, eyes already being drawn back to the center of the warehouse and the makeshift ring where two more men, both handsome in different ways, were stepping up. One had a shaved head, tattoos running down his tan shoulders and arms. The look in his eyes could only be described as predatory. The other seemed completely relaxed, a lazy grin plastered over his features as he shed his leather jacket, handing it off to someone on the sidelines.
“You’re lucky,” Sami said, “you get to see Randy and Dean go at it on your first night. They aren’t usually paired up together.”
“Paired up?” Seth said absently, trying to calculate the sheer muscle mass of the two giants squaring off. He really needed to hit the gym if he was going to survive something like that smashing into him.
“If you want to stay, you have to fight,” Sami said. “If you want to fight, you have to give your name to Kane. He sets all the matches up. Claims it’s random, but…” Sami looked at him meaningfully, “there are way too many running rivalries around here for that to be the truth.”
They both paused as the fight began, the two men not shy about testing each other’s range and power. Randy went in for the kill immediately, but Dean twisted around him, moving faster than someone his size should have been able to. Eventually, however, Randy’s punches and sheer aggression began to connect, Dean rocking back with a blow to the temple.
As he recovered and shook his head, blood dripping from a cut over his eyebrow, his smile grew impossibly larger.
“That’s Dean for you,” Sami smiled ruefully.
“Is he causing trouble again?” someone grunted from behind them, and Seth turned to meet a barrel-sized chest and piercing eyes, the frown on the man’s face severe and angular. Where were they finding these guys, Calvin Klein ads?
“Just the usual, Roman,” Sami nodded in greeting. “It’s been a while!”
“Work’s been kicking my ass,” Roman said, eyes flicking briefly to Seth before looking over him to watch the fight. “Randy’s gonna’ regret making him bleed, he loves that shit.”
True to Roman’s words, Dean was laughing, which only seemed to piss Randy off and send him flying into even more of a fury. Seth wanted that, what Dean had. That joy that came from the fight, the freedom of being able to throw your fists against each other without consequences.
“You place a bet?” Roman asked Sami, ignoring Seth’s presence.
“Nah,” Sami grinned. “Like I’d put money on either of them when I don’t know where their heads are at.”
“No one ever knows where Dean’s head is at,” muttered Roman, eyes narrowing as Dean kneed Randy in the gut. “Not even Dean.”
They watched in silence for a few more minutes, neither man in the ring backing down, before Sami clapped Seth on the shoulder and began to lead him away from the main body of people and over to a small office built into the body of the warehouse. “I’ll introduce you to Kane, but you have to take it from there, kid.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of that,” Seth said, running a hand through his hair. His mind was still absorbed in the fight.
“Just don’t make him angry,” Sami said, and Seth couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Lifting his left hand, he used his knuckles to rap on the door. “Boss? We got fresh meat.”
“Enter,” a deep voice said, sending chills down Seth’s spine.
“Good luck,” Sami whispered, cracking the door and shoving Seth inside.
The man sitting behind the desk in a crisp suit and tie was probably the largest human Seth had ever seen. He glanced up with disinterest as Seth entered, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. “Sit,” he commanded, eyes going back to the paperwork in front of him. Seth sat.
After a few minutes of tense silence, the large man put his pen down and focused his gaze on Seth, as though he was taking in every detail and every dark secret Seth had ever had. “My name is Kane,” the man said, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “I am in charge of each and every body that comes through those doors.” He paused, head tilting to the side. “Do you accept that?”
“Y-yes,” Seth said. He’d come this far, after all, even if he hated the idea of someone having any authority over him.
“Good,” Kane said, smiling a smile that somehow wasn’t one at all. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Seth.”
“Seth,” Kane repeated, dragging his eyes over Seth’s features. “I could use a man like you. You ever been in a real fight before, Seth?”
“Only once,” Seth said honestly.
“Did you win?”
Seth grinned at the memory. “I destroyed.” Just the thought got his blood pumping again.
“Confident,” Kane mused. “I like that. We’ll have to work on it.”
“Work on what?” Seth questioned, unsure.
“Are you up for a fight next week, Seth?” Kane asked, ignoring his question and flipping through the papers in front of him. “We have a doctor on call, but if you’re too badly injured, we’ll leave you in the street for passerby to find. Do you accept these terms, as well?”
“I…I do,” Seth said. He was afraid, it was true. But having seen the fights, he needed it. Needed it more than ever. More than breathing.
“Perfect,” Kane grinned. “I have a feeling you’ll be a big hit.” Lightning fast, he reached out and snagged Seth’s wrist in a bruising grip. “Be here next week, or we’ll come find you.”
“I’ll be here,” Seth said defensively, wrenching his wrist back and rubbing at the skin.
“Then get out,” Kane dismissed him.
Seth hurried back to the circle, but the fight between Dean and Randy was already over, two different men having taken their place. He looked around for Sami before working his way over to the man in the back. Roman was still with him, and still ignoring Seth as he approached.
“Who won?” Seth asked, burning with curiosity.
“Randy did, of course,” Roman grunted absently. “Dean bet against himself.”
“Is that allowed?” Seth wondered, startled. If people could throw matches so easily…
Sami laughed, clapping him on the back again. “You gonna tell him no?”
“Touché,” Seth shrugged.
“Hey, how’d it go?” Sami asked. “You’re alive, so I assume well?”
“He put me in a fight next week,” Seth said, the reality hitting him hard. A real fight.
Roman finally looked him in the eyes, thick eyebrows drawing together. “Already?”
“I guess I’m just special,” Seth said. “Jealous?”
Roman rolled his eyes and turned away, moving to speak someone else deeper in the crowd.
“Making friends,” Sami waggled his eyebrows, “You’re already getting the hang of it.”