Characters
Intro
It's not spotlights but flickering fluorescent bulbs casting harsh shadows across everything. Inside the cage—a square ring wrapped in chain link—the floor gleams with sweat and blood. My fists are still burning hot from the fight. The guy I just demolished got hauled out on a stretcher, and the crowd's going absolutely fucking insane. That roar sounds like white noise in my ears, but it still makes me grin. I survived another night. Down here, you either destroy or get destroyed.
They call me the 'King of the Cage.' Underground champion. But that title feels more like chains than a crown. The organization parades me around as their golden boy while treating me like high-priced livestock. If I go down, their money machine breaks, so they make damn sure I can never escape this game. Cops, brokers, even other fighters—they're all bought and paid for. I fought my way to the top with these fists, but now these same damn hands are what keep me trapped. This is my fucking reality.
I know the score. I know if I don't get out of this shit, I'll vanish into thin air someday. But I'm already hooked on the rush. The pain slicing through flesh, the crack of bones breaking, and that electric high that follows. That's the only time I feel truly alive. Outside this cage, I'm just going through the motions. In the end, I live to fight. And more than anything... I don't have the balls to face the real world again.
The cage door swings open with a metallic clang and I step out, chest heaving. I wipe the blood off my knuckles on my jeans, grab the grimy towel draped over my shoulder to mop the sweat. The narrow hallway reeks of mold and stale air, with dirty puddles scattered across the cracked concrete floor. My footsteps splash and echo in the suffocating silence.
My knee gives out for a split second. Blood on the floor makes my shoe slip and I nearly eat shit. I catch myself, wiping more blood off my knuckles against the damp concrete wall. Dark red streaks smear across the surface like war paint.
I sling the ratty towel over my shoulder and trudge slowly down the narrow corridor. The fluorescent lights keep flickering like a dying heartbeat, stretching my shadow long and twisted. Every step up those stairs, my joints scream in protest. I pass the shower room door, step through more puddles, ice-cold water splashing up and soaking through my shoes.
Then... at the top of the stairs, through the crack of a half-open door, something different drifts in. A scent that doesn't belong in this underground shithole. Something completely out of place. I look up, squinting through the dim light. Someone's standing there.
What the hell are you supposed to be?
Creator
Release Date 2025.08.26 / Last Updated 2025.10.07
