Jack
I reflexively closed my eyes as punches rained on my face, and I tried to block them with my arms.
“Finish him! Finish him!” The crowd chanted, calling for my opponent to knock me out.
It was nothing new to me, so I did not take it personally. In the world of underground fighting, the crowd supported whoever was winning.
My opponent, a bruiser called Crush, took the crowd's advice to heart and tried to tackle me.
I deftly jumped over his legs and punched him in the chest with all my might.
Crush was more than two times my size, so I wasn't surprised when my punch had no effect on him. Crush laughed and charged me, driving his big head into my abdomen. My back hit the wire cage we were fighting in, and the crowd went wild.
Not giving me a chance to recover, Crush kicked me in the abdomen again, and I felt like throwing up. Thankfully, I never ate before a fight.
“You little rat!” Crush grunted and beat his meaty paws on his chest, “Did you really think you could defeat me?”
Okay, Crush was a talker. Another thing to dislike about him.
“You're just a little cockroach!” Crush spat as he slapped me loudly, “You'll fail here, just like you failed in MMA.”
My ears rang, not from Crush's disgraceful slaps, but from his humiliating words. They irked me to no end.
“Well, Crush. You're going down.” I told him, and I meant it. Crush was big, clumsy and untrained. Meanwhile I was slim, lithe and well-versed in more than three martial arts.
Crush laughed again, and I let him have it. I punched his big lips, splitting them.
Crush cried out and tried to punch me. I ducked and gave him a side kick to his groin.
Crush whimpered and I laughed. The good thing about underground fighting was that there were no rules; just knock outs or submissions.
Before Crush could recover, I gave him an uppercut. Crush staggered to his knees, and putting in all the strength I could in my leg, I kicked him.
My feet landed in his face, and I heard his nose break. Crush fell to the ground unconscious, blood seeping from his nose.
I spread my arms wide in victory and waited to be announced the winner, smiling at the booing crowd.

*

“Jack, what was that about?” Tim, my friend and manager asked me as he opened a bottle of beer and passed it to me. Tom was tall and skinny with curly hair that could never be tamed.
We were at a seedy bar I frequented after all my matches. The best aftercare for a fight was to drink until you forgot about the pain.
“What?” I asked, distracted by one of the women dancing on the tables. A little thing, she was slimmer than the other dancers, but she moved her body with such fervor that people couldn't help but stare.
I've never seen her before, I thought briefly, is she new?
“Jack,” Tom snapped me out of my thoughts, “That match was fixed. You were supposed to take a few blows and then tap out. Why the hell did you knock him out?”
“He talked about my time in the MMA,” I said bitterly and took a swig of my beer.
“Oh,” Tom lost the ferocious look on his face, “Ah, the owner of the fight ring told me he didn't want to see us on his property ever again.”
“Well, he paid us, didn't he?” I asked, looking for a silver lining.
Tom snorted, “He paid us only a fifth of what we were supposed to receive. I wanted to fight him, but his goons were there.”
I grimaced. I was really hard on cash, and shouldn't have let my anger get the better of me. But all that was in the past.
“Don't worry,” I smiled at Tim, although my face hurt, “You'll find another place and I'll fight like they want me to.”
Tom made a remark about how hard it would be to find somewhere else for me to fight, but I was too occupied with the dancing girl to reply. As I focused my gaze on her, I noticed her was an unusual and tantalising shade of red, something else that set her apart from the other dancers, who were bleach blondes. She moved like she had no worries in the world, and I longed to be like that one day. To stay without having to worry about money, work, and everything else in my life. I shook my head at the pipe dream.
Suddenly, a drunk man lumbered to the table she was dancing on, and reached out to caress her thighs.
She expertly shoved his hand away and continued to dance.
Her admirer did not appreciate being rebuffed, so he forcefully clamped his hands on her calf.
“Hey, Pretty! Why you actin' like you can't see me?” The drunk man inquired.
“Let me go,” The redhead tried to pry the man's fingers off her leg, and almost lost her balance in the process.
The man laughed and began to drag the redhead off the table to the amusement of the other patrons of the bar. Her fellow dancers stopped dancing, but nobody tried to help the redhead.
“Jack, have you been listening to what I was saying?” Tom asked, and I realized he'd been talking to me.
“No,” I answered honestly and dropped my almost empty bottle of beer. I glanced at the man who was now pulling the redhead's hair, and my fists tightened. The man was going to hurt her.
I stood from my chair.
“Where are you going?” Tim, who was oblivious to the fiasco going on, asked.
“I'll be right back,” I assured him and quickly walked over to where the drunk man was.
He'd successfully dragged the woman down from her table and was now trying to get her to kiss him.
“Eeew! Your breath stinks.” The woman exclaimed and covered her mouth with her hand.
The man growled at her words and was about to slap her, when I caught his hand.
He was so drunk that it took him a whole five seconds to realize someone was holding his hand.
He released the woman and faced me.
“What's your problem, bro?” He slurred, removing his hand from my grip.
“I'm not your bro,” I retorted, “She wasn't interested. Leave her alone.”
He didn't appreciate my advice because he lashed out and tried to punch me. I saw his fist coming, and stopped it.
“Why are you so violent?” I had received enough punches for the day, and my fists were still bruised from punching Crush, “Just leave.”
The drunk man stepped back and brought out a knife from his pocket.
“You wanna play?” He threatened, “Let's play. I'll teach you how to mind your business.”
“Woah!” I exclaimed. A knife changed everything. If I wasn't careful, he was going to stab me.
I moved out of the knife's reach. The man laughed, probably thinking I was scared, and lunged the blade forward.
The blade ripped the material of my sweatshirt. Luckily, the blade didn't cut me.
I grabbed the arm holding the knife and twisted as hard as I could. For the second time that night, I heard the satisfying crunch of bone snapping.
The drunk man shrieked and I took the knife from him. He fell to the ground in pain, and some people came to help him up.
“That was too brutal, bro.” Someone said to me.
I ignored them and turned to the redhead. I was mesmerized when I finally saw her face clearly. She had eyes as green as fields, a cute little button nose, and luscious lips.
She's as beautiful as an angel, I thought sheepishly.
That was until she sneered, “Get lost! I didn't ask for your help.”