The Silver Fighter | ✓

The Temple . . . Dun Dun Dun

After I was done with school, I headed to The Ring which is a huge upcycled garage that resides in the grimy downtown area. Due to its size, I'm surprised we haven't been busted by the cops.

Like I said before, it's legal-ish. 

Which means it isn't fully legal or illegal. A happy medium. Well, happy is the wrong adjective, but close enough.

After I reached the building and I entered the arena, I saw the fighters I usually see.

By the bags and doing quick jab exercises were Sam Paxton, our resident meathead, and Carlton Skulson, or as he calls himself, the Skull Crusher.

Yes. Skull Crusher. 

Original. I know.

And then we had Buster Jacklin by the tape and wrapping his hands. He's the one with a face that can kill you with one glare. No joke. There was a fighter a couple months ago who somehow had a heart attack after he glanced at Jacklin.

Fucking weird as shit.

Now, there are several others who usually would be there at that time, but I wasn't bothered by their absence. I knew they were probably prepping for the fight tonight.

I nodded my head to guys and they did the same. Well...everyone except for Carlton who grinned and waved.

"Hey G!" He yelled enthusiastically and I laughed.

"Sup Car!" I shouted back happily.

Despite his unoriginal and ridiculous nickname, he's really a sweet person. Well, to me.

Now, something to note, basically everyone here knows my real identity since they've know me ever since I started fighting, which was about two and a half years ago. After I took down the reigning champ, Dean Knutson, they developed even more respect for me. And I respect them.

We're kind of like family. A violent and crazy family, but a family nonetheless. I trust them and vice versa.

I love these idiots and in their own weird way, they love me too.

"Ready for the fight?" Carlton asked and I nodded.

"Born ready." I replied with a smirk and gave him a two-fingered salute as I walked to the changing room.

No one was going to steal my crown.

I entered the women's changing room and slipped into my gym clothes. I stored my clothes and bag in a locker and exited the dingy cave. Then, I made my way to a bag to warm up.

There, I dressed my hands and got into position.

'Just another day.'

During training, Ray in all his glory waltzed in.

"Hey, pup. Ready to beat Michaelson to a pulp?" He questioned, his Texan accent very apparent, as he held my punching bag. I grunted as I right kicked it.

"Him again? He really must hate losing to a girl." I grunted again as I gave the bag a strong right hook.

Ray chuckled. "After you hand his ass to him for a fifth time this month, he ought to give up." I snorted as I caught my breath.

"As if that will stop him." I threw a right-armed punch. "His ego is bruised and he won't stop until he's beaten me." I noted and threw another punch.

Another. 

And another.

"Meh. He has to admit defeat sometime." Ray stated with a shrug. He grunted when I kicked the bag again and accidentally winded him. "Damn, you're good." He muttered, sweat forming around his brow line. His dark brown skin began to shine from the perspiration.