14 Ch 14 Fight Club

Oddly there weren't too many cars around.

Derrick said the guys met in groups elsewhere and carpooled in. A few of the guys ran taxi service bringing in small groups. Too many cars here would bring too much attention.

Mac was at the kitchen table setting up the bouts. A bunch of guys were lined up across from him. Mac had a notebook and was scribbling intensely.

"Go meet the Doc," he hollered to me, barely looking up from his notes.

The doctor was an older guy about in his fifties. He was going through the inventory of medicines. He had a dozen needles already prepped.

I wondered what was in them. I wondered why he did this gig. I wondered how much he got paid for his services. I knew better to ask anything as I cleared my throat in the doorway.

"Hey, I'm your help tonight."

He turned around and gave me a look I couldn't decipher.

"Are you legal?"

I gave him a confused look.

"At least tell me you're twenty-one."

I wasn't going to tell him I wasn't, not when my birthday was so close.

"I'm legal," I said with a grin.

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He just shook his head.

"Why don't I believe you?"

He held up his hand stopping any other comments I might make.

"Let me give you some advice, ok? Don't fight. Don't use your real name. Don't tell anyone where you live. And don't say anything about whatever you see here. Oh, and don't bet on the fights. Call me Doc, it's the only name you'll get out of me."

I gave him a serious nod acknowledging his warning.

"This is how it works, " he continued. "You help the guys up here. No one leaves until I clear them, not the winners, not the losers. That's one of the rules. Once they're done here, they can go. They get checked out in the order they finish their fights unless someone needs more urgent care. Anyone unconscious or really bleeding gets bumped to the front of the line.

"There's a specially-marked garbage can in the bathroom for anything bloody. If you have to use the facilities, make it quick. That's where they do a quick wash-down to get rid of any dirt or blood if they have to before they come in here; unless they need to move to the front of the line. A small stack of cheap shorts is there as well.

"You don't talk to anyone. You don't interfere with the fights. It's these guys' choice to come here. The fights go as far as they want. No matter how bad it's looking, you don't try and stop it. If you can't take it down there then stay up here. Got it?"

I nodded. "Got it."

"Good. Go on down then and wait for my first customers."

There were probably close to a hundred guys in the basement, and a few women. I raised an eyebrow but didn't ask. The ring had four guys in it, all wearing safety gear. Eddie was in the sand with another guy ready to start a match. Mac was there.

"Match ends with first blood. Ready? Go."

I was fascinated to watch the knife fight. I knew Ed was good, but still. I could tell Ed was holding back. His opponent got a slash on his arm. The guy hissed in pain. Mac clicked his stopwatch, made a note, caught my eye and motioned me over.

"Take him to Doc. Next."

Mac wasted no time as he turned back to the sand as another guy stepped up to fight Eddie.

I led the guy to Doc and watched as the wound was cleaned and Doc was ready to make a few stitches. He looked up at me.

"What are you still doing here? Get back down there."

I was startled for a second before I realized he was right. Knife fights would probably only last a few minutes each. After a few trips up and down, I had to help one of the guys from the ring.

Mac had to holler out to me that the equipment stayed down there. I pulled off the man's helmet and gloves and found the container where the used mouth guards went. Totally gross.

"And that's why they don't drive themselves here," said Derrick as he showed up to help the guy to one of the couches.  Doc had cleared the fighter for now but wanted to double-check for concussion in a bit.

The night wore on with groans, cussing, and quiet cheering on occasion. The crowd was oddly low key. I realized this wasn't a spectator crowd, it was a participant crowd. Most of the guys were intent on the fights, evaluating future competition while waiting for their match.

I saw a wide variety of fighting; kick-boxing, regular boxing, different martial arts, flat out punching, even some wrestling. Fighters used a variety of weapons: knives, staffs, even one bout with swords. Weapon fights were held in the sand. Hand to hand combat was mostly held in the ring.

Men came and went. I couldn't keep track of them all. I don't know how Mac did.

The crowd had thinned and the fights grew longer when I caught a smell that threw me totally off guard. I breathed deep after a subtle shift. The odor was as clear as a flashing neon sign.

There was a wolf in the room somewhere.

My nails dug into my palms without thought. The wolf part of me surged to the forefront and I struggled to maintain control.

It had been rough at different times of the night, with the smell of blood and the surges of testosterone. I had stepped outside a few times for breaths of fresh air, but right now I wanted to go deeper into the basement.

The thought of another wolf was exciting. Mac had to call out to get my attention to help someone up to Doc.

I hurried the guy upstairs and headed back down as soon as I could.

Caution. Vigilance.

It didn't take long to figure out which one was the wolf. He didn't seem to notice me. I even wolfed it up as much as I dared as I walked by. If I could smell him he should have been able to smell me. No reaction from him. I was mystified.

Mac finally called me over and pulled me off to the side.

"What's up with you suddenly?"

"Do you know that guy?"

"Which one?"

"The big guy who is dressed like a biker, with tats on his neck."

Mac looked at me for a second, clearly amused.

"All the guys that have been through here and that's the guy you think you can take?" He gave a short laugh. "He hasn't fought for two years; used to be a regular. Something happened to him. He only shows up now and again."

"Set up a meeting for me. A private match just him and me after everyone leaves."

"Rick, that isn't how things work. No match is private. Witnesses keep things safe for everyone in case something happens, and trust me, sometimes things happen. Bouts here require a certain amount of cash down. I don't think you have that much. And like I said, he doesn't fight anymore."

I kept my eyes on the guy. He must have felt the wolf-stare into his back because he turned around until our eyes met. I gave him a small smile and a nod before turning back to Mac.

"Ask him. A private meet. No fighting. Two minutes alone. Tell him Little Wolf is asking."

I didn't take no for an answer. I left Mac standing there as I headed over to where the last match had ended to help the guys upstairs. I could feel eyes on me. Both of them. I was excited.

Once I was up with Doc, I asked him how someone could lose their sense of smell. Doc looked at me in amusement.

"Half these guys can't smell right. Get into enough fights with enough broken noses, it can affect your sense of smell."

I nodded and headed back down. Mac said the other wolf had been a regular, lots of fights. If he had stopped fighting two years ago...

I wondered if the reason was a werewolf bite. It had to be! Which meant someone out there had bitten him. He had been staying as far back from the fights as he could, back against the wall.

I tried to ignore the man who smelled of the wolf. I was afraid he would take off, but he stayed. If anything he made sure to stay as far from me as he could.

I saw Mac talk to him a few times. Mac didn't seem to like the answers he got. Mac shot me a few indecipherable glances but didn't say anything. I couldn't wait for the last few fights to end.

I helped Derrick clean up the basement after the last fighters went up. I wasn't sure where the guy who smelled of wolf went. I assumed he and Mac were talking somewhere. Doc had finished checking out the last fighter. The last car pulled out. Mac came down with the man he said didn't fight anymore. The man was trailing behind Mac on the steps.

"Derrick." Mac motioned him out.

Derrick threw a look my way before heading upstairs.

It was just the three of us. I knew Mac wouldn't be leaving. The other werewolf was holding back, staying by the stairs. I could smell the fear on him and it puzzled me. The guy was easily twice my size. He shouldn't be afraid of me. I gave him a nice friendly smile as I walked over.

The other werewolf didn't take his eyes off me. "Mac said you wanted to meet. Why?" he asked quietly.

"Mac, can you make sure no one is at the top of the stairs?"

The second Mac turned around I shifted as much as I could as fast as I could so I could shift back before Mac could see anything. I focused on hands and snout, especially the snout. I shifted back, grinning at the werewolf in front of me. I couldn't have anticipated his reaction in a million years.

He dropped to his knees, bowing his head. The word "Royal" barely made it past his lips.

Mac was turning around to see what had happened. I grabbed the other werewolf and pulled him up. He got to his feet shakily, head still bowed.

"Stop it," I hissed under my breath.

He looked at me, startled.

"I just wanted to say hi. I figured the other bike out there was yours; thought it'd be nice to talk shop for a bit."

It was lame and I knew it. Mac wouldn't believe that I had made such a big deal over meeting this guy to chat about a bike. The look Mac gave me confirmed it as he headed back down the steps.

The other werewolf looked totally confused. He still smelled of fear, but now there was something else I didn't recognize.

I was terrified he'd drop to his knees again. He had lowered his head again, exposing his jugular to me. His behavior was so unexpected. Whoever had bitten him must have taught him to behave this way, and it ticked me off. I reached out and touched the man's arm.

"You ok? Why don't we get you some fresh air?"

I took off upstairs before that guy had a chance to do anything stupid... and before I showed fangs.