Destined Love

Destined Love - Chapter Five

Chapter Five:

This really is a small town; as I stroll my way through the streets, I notice barely anyone doing the same. When I reach the end of one street, I take another, in search for either a diner or a hotel. The full moon hanging in the cloudy sky and the road lamps line my way through the disserted roads. Alcohol bottles have been scattered on the outskirts of the road, weeds and debris blow around with the soft breeze, and houses that have probably seen better days live opposite each other.

As I walk, I stare up at the few stars that line the dark blue sky; the scent of rain drifs through the air. I never thought starting my life over meant really starting it over from scratch. It would have been nice of Raziel to give me a wad of cash, to make things a little easier for me. That's not too much to ask, right?

A thick drop of rain falls against my cheek, followed by several more seconds later. I start up a jog as the rain begins pelting from the sky, as if on a mission. Blinking through the heavy shower, I search for shelter.

"Just my fuckin' luck." I growl through the down pour.

There's no way I'm sleeping out in the rain tonight, even if I have to share a box with a homeless guy.

When I reach the end of a street, I begin to turn left, but come to a halt as a group of shouts reaches my ears through the  terrestrial rain. I decide to follow the sound to a thin lane-way, half hidden by two large dumpsters. A circle of men stand in the tiny space, their shouts and cheering echoing against the brick walls on each side. A muscled guy throws a punch to someone out of my line of vision, and I instantly recognise what's taking place; the group of men holler and bark, jeering the fighters on.

This is a Circle Fight; where a group of men get together and fight each other for money.

A sport I always aced at.

Their taunts and bellowing grow louder as an idea forms. Capturing droplets of rain in my mouth, I swallow greedily due to the cold wind that sliced through my lungs. With a confident square of my shoulders, I step into the alleyway and lean against one of the green bins. Punches are thrown, side-kicks are repeatedly given as the shouts continue. Each bunch, each wack, reverberates against the wet brick.

I wait for someone to notice me.

As the circle fight continues, neither fighter willing to give up, I decide to make my presence known.

Thick drops of rain trickle their way through my black hair and down my cheeks; the water blurs my vision, and as I blink the droplets from my eyelashes, the larger fighter throws his final punch; I snort as I watch the weak move.

I'm sure I'll be able to kick all their asses with my eyes closed.

"Time's up, boys. We don't got all night. Next two!" A broad male to the left of the circle counts through a load of cash; he halves the pile and places each half into two separate pockets on his green shirt.

With a brash twitch of my lips, I push off the green dumpster and step into view.

"How about I go next, sí?"

All eyes centre on me. "Who the Hell are you?"

With an experienced glance at each fighter, it takes me just thirty seconds to recognise the guns strapped to the belt of every man. I hold in an amused chuckle. I turn towards the obvious leader, his money still poking out of his shirt.

"I couldn't help but notice just how shit these fighters of yours are. I think you need me to show you how it's really done."

I hear the click of a gun as the challenge leaves my lips. I twist my head in the direction of the glock, following the line of the gun to the man that holds it; a six foot twig with a poor excuse of a mustache. He makes it easy to disregard him.