Chapter 2 - Piotr

It was almost dinner time when Ashan called. I was leaning against the countertop in our kitchen when I heard the front door open and Mila speaking. “Evening Ashan, he’s in the kitchen.”

It was strange for him to come to our place for business, but he sounded urgent when he called. Turning to him as he entered, I saw the stranger with him. It was not like him to bring strangers to our home.

Stepping towards them, I spoke, holding out my hand while scanning the man with him. “Evening Ashan.”

“Hi, Piotr, I’m sorry to bother you so late and bring someone here. But we must get this job done. It will be a while before we have another chance.”

“Yeah, I assumed it had to be important for you to come all the way out here. So, I thought, why not? Better not delay.” I waited for him to introduce the tall, dark stranger.

Turning to the man beside him, Ashan held his hand out as he spoke. “This is Lib; he has a job for you. Are you interested?”

The man didn’t appear to be Bratva or, in any sense, even into illegal things. I couldn’t help but wonder how Ashan knew him. The fact that he brought a stranger to my house was something else we would discuss later. “Sure,” I said, looking at Lib. “How can I be of assistance?”

Lib glanced at Mila, standing by the front door, ready to chuck them out should I decide it was needed. Turning back to me, he produced a business card from his jacket pocket. He held it out to me as he spoke.

“Thank you for your time. I have invested in this company. I was told your particular abilities would be best suited to do a check.” His voice wavered a bit, and I was sure he had never been in the company of people like us.

“What is this about Ashan?” I questioned. “How could I assist with investments?”

Ashan frowned at me as he spoke in his deep, authoritative tone. “The investment was made in an underground fighting ring. Plus, Lib is a close friend of the family, and we would appreciate it if you would just take a look. See what is going on over there.”

“You know I no longer play in those circles,” I said as Mila approached us. I didn’t want her interfering, but I knew this would trigger her.

“All we ask is that you have a look. We don’t want you to fight or anything like that, Piotr. Just take a look around and let us know if there is money to be made. If everything is above board. Can you do this for us, as you are familiar with the scene and will know best.”

Glancing at Mila, I knew she was about to add her voice, and it wouldn’t be a good ending to this conversation. Her feelings towards ring fighting and me were very narrow.

Holding out my hand to Ashan, I spoke up before she could say anything. “Okay, I will do this for you, Ashan. But next time, please give us a heads-up. We are a family and have to discuss such jobs.”

Mila was not pleased. She stormed past us and headed upstairs. I knew this would be her reaction, but we needed the Morozov business.

Ashan shook my hand and nodded. “Sure, but the fight is tonight, and we aren’t sure when the next one will be. If not for that, we would have consulted you ahead of time.”

“Right,” I replied, walking to the front door and seeing them out. Once they had left, I went to my room. After taking a shower and dressing, I looked for Mila.

I found her in the second-floor library. She sat by the window reading on her tablet. Walking to her side, she didn’t even look up. “Mila,” I said, bending down next to her. “I am not going to fight. I am merely going to observe and see how they run the show. It is just for intel.”

Glancing at me, I saw a tear rolling down her cheek. Wiping it, I continued. “Please don’t be sad or angry. I’m not in any danger. No one will even know I’m there, okay?”

Mila flung her arms around my neck and squeezed tightly. “Please, please don’t get in the ring.” She whispered before kissing my cheek and sitting back.

Smiling at her, I nodded and headed for the door. Before leaving, I turned back and winked at her. “No fighting, only observing,” I said in a cheery tone, then headed to the garage.

I grabbed my helmet from the stand between my and Mila’s bikes and pushed the button for the garage door to open. I started my Triumph and listened to her roar to life. It was the sweetest sound; she purred like a kitten. I loved the way she softly rumbled beneath me.

Pulling on my helmet, I headed out the gate to the location Ashan gave me. By the time I reached my destination, the sun was setting. The last part of the road was filled with loose gravel, and so was the underground car park. From the outside, the building looked like it was ready for demolition.

The parking garage was poorly lit but seemed in better condition than above ground. Getting off, I noticed my bike was no longer black; it was brown from all the dust. Even though there were no windows this far underground, I was grateful that the air pipes worked. The parking area was full, and clusters of people were standing around smoking and drinking.

Entering through the double steel doors, I found myself in a long corridor. The corridor was also poorly lit and had a musty odor. I wondered if the entire place was going to be like this. If so, it wasn’t the type of business I would invest in. At the first side corridor, I saw two boards against the wall. One indicated the bathrooms, and the other board showed locker rooms down the corridor.

Moving further forward, I found two more other doors. They were standing open. These appeared to be more locker rooms. I stood for a moment, watching the fighters gearing up. Some were sparring with each other. In one corner, a young woman was rubbing a fighter’s back. In the other corner, it seemed a doctor was looking at injuries on another.

Shaking my head, I proceeded to the bright lights I could see ahead of me. I sometimes missed the thrill and adrenalin. That was one of the reasons I preferred to stay clear of such places. But I promised Mila that I wouldn’t fight and intended to keep that promise.

Entering the main area, stale beer and cigarettes filled my nostrils. I decided to take a quick walk-through and see what the place had to offer.

The bar area had a comfortable set-up. The bar counter ran along the back wall in a curve. It offered good access, and the seating was spaced for viewing the ring. The tables were also placed at angles apart, giving most spectators a reasonable view. At first glance, the place looked like a solid investment.

After grabbing a beer, I moved towards the ring. Two bulky men were swinging away at each other. The one was about a head taller with a darker complexion than the other contestant. However, the shorter guy was better built. Not that it meant anything in these kinds of fights. I had learned that the hard way in my younger years.

Space at the tables was quite limited. But I found an open spot at a table with two other men. They seemed preoccupied in their conversation. They didn’t even notice me as I sat down. The taller guy was taking a beating from the shorter one in the ring. But as can happen with such events, it was short-lived.

The taller man was down on his hands and knees. The other guy kicked him in the side. There was a sudden loud smacking sound as the taller man clamped the muscular leg of the other. With one smooth motion, he yanked the other guy to the ground. You could hear his breath leaving his chest as he made contact with the hard floor.

I also thought I heard a cracking noise. But I couldn’t be sure as the crowd rose and started screaming. Watching that takedown, combined with the distinct odor of blood, flooded my mind with memories.

I preferred leaving them in the past but being here made it harder to do. My vision blurred for a second as I remembered hearing Mila’s concerned voice ringing out into the air.

The pain I went through. The recovery and the possibility of never walking again had stopped my fighting career. Shaking my head to clear it from the ghosts that sometimes haunted me, I turned my attention to the men at the table.

Looking at them, I knew they weren’t fighters. Both were most likely in their early twenties and overly skinny. One was wearing a nose and lip ring with shaggy jeans and a leather jacket. The other one seemed to be wearing make-up. It was hard to tell between the strands of the oily mop he had for hair covering his face.

Another young man brought drinks and joined them. He wore a hoodie covering most of his face, and I couldn’t see if he looked as disheveled as the other two. After placing the drinks down, he moved in between the others. Placing his arms around them, he leaned forward as he spoke.

“Hey man, you wunt believe what I heard, haha.” He spewed in a shrill tone.

The other two turned to look at him in unison. For a moment they made me think of an oldie comedy.

“I heard tha lady is the prize for the winner, man,” the hooded guy added, looking across the floor and pointing into the shadows.

Glancing in that direction, I could barely make out the woman sitting in the dark. Deciding I needed to get a better angle and reassess the club, I got up. Heading back toward the reception area, I passed a table of elderly men. I only caught half of their conversation, but it made me think twice.

The one was asking about the dead fighters. The other replied something to the line of selling their organs. I wasn’t sure if I had heard correctly, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to stop and ask.

After a quick walk through the gambling area, I walked closer to the back of the ring. There was indeed a young woman seated there in the shadows. I wondered if I had missed something by coming late. Moving back to the bar, I was intent on finding out.

On my way, I passed some servers and heard them talking about Mr. Thompson. As I understood from Ashan’s friend, he was the owner. The young girls in their skimpy outfits were talking about another girl who was beaten for not listening. I felt my blood starting to boil.

Taking a second, I closely studied the patrons and staff. I realized that this wasn’t such a good investment. There was a lot more going on here than was legal. I felt sick and wanted to leave, but I remembered the young girl in the shadows. First, I would confirm the rumors, and then I would leave.

Standing by the bar, I signaled the barman. Mr. Thompson was turning out to be a sick and twisted man. I would discuss dealing with him with the rest of the crew later. As the barman came over, I heard a man’s voice booming behind me.

“Greetings, sir,” the man said as I turned to face him. “I hadn’t seen you here before. May I ask your name?”

It was him. It was Jones Thompson in the flesh. I recognized his face from the internet search I had done before I left home. Pressing my firm fists into the sides of my legs, I tried to speak in an even tone. I didn’t want him to notice the flare of rage he brought forth in me.

“I’m Piotr, and you must be Jones Thompson?”

“Indeed, I am,” he said, grinning. “I see you’ve heard of me, all good things, I hope?”

Nodding, I replied through clenched teeth. “Yeah, the best fights can be seen at your events, I’ve been told.”

The grin on his face grew, and I fought the urge to slap him so hard that he would never grin again. Before he could answer, another man came over and whispered something to him.

“I’ve got to go, but enjoy the show,” he said, then briskly walked away. He reeked of ammonia and a metallic blood smell.

Grabbing another beer, I watched him walk around the ring to the back. I noticed two big men dragging the short contestant out of the ring. The taller one was being assisted to the back by two young women.

The air filled with a sharp ring. Then, there was a huffed blow as a microphone was switched on. “Attention everyone, please,” a woman’s voice blared through the crowd. The place went so quiet one would hear a mouse squeak.

Glancing towards the other side of the room, where a light suddenly beamed brightly, I saw her. There in the chair sat the most stunning woman I had ever seen. Next to her stood Jones. He took the microphone from the skinny black-haired woman and kissed her on the cheek.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he started in an overly smooth tone, grinning from ear to ear. The way he was smiling made me think of the Joker in Batman. Walking a little closer, I listened intently as I felt a bad feeling rush through me.

“Tonight, for the first time, we will have a unique fight!” Jones blabbered. The crowd rose from their seats and cheered loudly.

“Sign-up will be in about ten minutes,” he added, checking his watch. Glancing down to the woman in the chair, he continued. “The prize for this special event will be this lovely lady sitting at my side. The winner gets to take her home!”

The air filled with cries of excitement as men stormed to the entrance desk. Looking back at the woman, I noticed shock flooding her face. But it was quickly replaced by a deep sadness as she glanced at the crowd, and our eyes met. It was only a brief moment, but it stirred within me a deep need I hadn’t felt in a long time.

What kind of business was this, I thought. How could anyone use such a divine being as a prize in an underground fight? Did he not know what kind of men these were?

“Please, people, please listen,” Jones said again, grinning at the sudden chaos. “The winner will be the last man standing! Do you hear me, the last man standing!” He chuckled, a horrid sound coming from deep within him.

My mind went blank. What did he imply? Would this be a fight to the death? A sudden urge to protect flooded through my veins. Looking at the men signing up, I knew I had to have her; she needed saving. I walked to the desk and signed up for the fight without any further consideration.

Once my name was added, I scanned the other men standing in line. There were about twenty contestants. I didn’t recognize any of them, which was a good thing. Most appeared to be in their twenties. They were noticeably driven by hormones and making bad choices. I felt sure they didn’t truly understand the concept.

A young black-haired woman came over and told me to please fall into the line at the ring. I would be up closer to the end. I stood watching the contestants falling out one by one. Most were being dragged off, covered in blood. I was sure some of them were no longer breathing, either.

Most of the matches went by quickly. As I expected, most of the fighters were amateurs. There were two men, as far as I could see, beating the rest to a pulp. I felt my natural fighting instincts increasing as each match passed. The adrenaline rush caused by watching was the one thing I tried to stay clear of.

I knew stepping into that ring could bring back my desires. Yet, I felt compelled. I couldn’t let any of these monsters get their filthy hands on such a princess. Plus, she could be a treasure trove of information on Jones.