Hi Everyone! Since I'm already updating another story here in addition to this one, I figured why not have it in more than one place? Thank you for reading!

Edgeworth, Pennsylvania

The snow fell silently around the charming 18th century farmhouse bordering the Pennsylvania woods just outside Pittsburgh. The girl nestled under the pile of down comforters and various throw blankets, curled up with her giant, snoring Newfoundland, was sound asleep. Then the screen of her iPhone lit up, and it sprung to life, a disturbing hum sending it chattering across her nightstand as the vibration pulsed and the sounds of her default ringtone filled the room. She groaned and lifted her head off the pillow, checking the digital clock on the cable box.

2:53 am

Suddenly, realizing the limited number of people who could be calling at that hour, her stomach dropped and she sat upright, her big dog raising his giant head with a jingle of his collar, placing it on his human's lap, sensing her distress.

She checked the number.

Philadelphia...Jem.

She looked over at her bookshelf at the different editions of To Kill a Mockingbird her mother had collected over the years. She'd named her two children after the characters of her favorite book.

"Hello?" she breathed into the phone.

"May I speak to Scout McKinley please?" A gentle, female voice over the phone asked.

"This is she." She replied.

"Miss McKinley, this is Thea at the hospital of UPA here in Philadelphia. I'm a nurse here in the emergency room."

Scout remained quiet. This phonecall. The worst one. The one she dreaded. And here it was.

"Your brother was admitted at 2:15 this morning following a serious car accident. I want to tell you that we are prepping him for surgery right now, but our main concern is not his survival but quality of life at this point."

"Who was driving?" Scout asked flatly.

"Do you know a William Royce?" Thea asked.

Scout groaned. "Yes. He's my father's Godchild, we've known him since we were babies." Not to mention, a relatively well-known UFC fighter, and colossal pain in the ass, Scout thought.

"Apparently Mr. Royce was driving a black 2010 Virage registered in his name. When they crashed, they hit the 30th Street Station going what the officer thinks was around 75 on the JFK Boulevard Bridge."

"Jesus." Scout breathed.

"Mr. Royce's tox screen is still coming back, but they do suspect that alcohol was involved….he's not doing well, Miss McKinley. He's in surgery now, but….he will be lucky to come out of this."

Scout rubbed the Newfie's head absentmindedly.

"I live in Edgeworth." Scout said helplessly. "I'm leaving now."

"Take your time. Dr. Yared is scrubbing in; he's a very competent and accomplished surgeon, and we have some wonderful residents here assisting, but it may take a while, so be safe traveling. Especially in this weather.

"Thank you. I'll see you in a bit." Then Scout hung up.

On the road to Philly, Scout's phone rang again. Liam. She still hadn't figured out how to use the stupid Bluetooth the S5 came with, so she picked up, hit speaker, and threw the phone on the dash. Ordinarily, she'd be driving the big antique '57 Bel Air she loved more than most human beings, but the little Audi her mother had left behind when Scout's parents had moved to Alaska was less of a risk in this weather.

"Hey, Li." She called towards the phone.

"Scout, Jesus Christ. Is he okay?"

"Who called you?" Scout was wondering how on earth Liam had managed to find out about the accident so quickly.

"I'm Royce's emergency medical contact. Hospital called me a half hour ago." Scout used the tiptronic option in the car to down shift as the snow got heavier.

"Jem's….gonna be okay, they think. I'm on my way to Philly now. If I ever make it through this blizzard." Her fingers danced nervously on the steering wheel.

"Listen, Scout. This is bad. Royce is out. He's fucking comatose right now. They took him into surgery and he started to crash, so they induced the coma. There is no way he'll be able to fulfill his obligations for Sparta now, and J.J. took a fit when he realized the two of them were the 'rowdy playboys' who were all over WCAU this morning. I know none of this is easy for you, right now, but as your brother's business partner, there are things we need to discuss."

Scout nodded. When Jem had decided that he wanted to start an MMA club team to train fighters to fight in the UFC, she had supported him and agreed to be his unofficial VP, even though her personal preferences found her turning up her nose at almost any type of fighting that wasn't pugilism. Jem had handled everything in the fight department: trainers, sponsors, bids, fights, etcetera. Liam, his best friend from UPenn had become his business manager. Her role had primarily been as little sister and advisor. They had grown up with a grandfather who had been middleweight champion of the world turned trainer. She knew enough to know that fighting was a business, above all else, and she was prepared for what Liam was about to tell her.

"J.J. was royally pissed, but he is comfortable with what we agreed upon. Now, look, I'm just your brother's business partner, and I know nothing about the fighting angle of things. But you're VP, and I personally think you know this business better than Jem. Effective immediately, you are to take over as manager for this team. You retain the privilege of selecting a fighter to compete at Sparta, or deferring if you think you can't prepare a fighter in time. But J.J. needs to know as soon as possible, okay?"

Scout puffed out a breath of air. She had agreed to be on the sidelines to assist her brother. She never thought she would have to assume this role. But now that it was here, she had obligations to fulfill. Her brother loved his team. His team broke their backs and busted their asses to be the best, for themselves, and the team as a whole. It was time to step up. "Uh-huh. I know who I want."

"Okay, kid. Listen, call me later when you talk to the doctors, okay? I'm at home right now, but I will come by once you call."

"Okay, Li." Scout said.

"Scout, I trust you. Jem trusts you. You can do this."

"Thanks, Li." She hung up. Then she texted J.J. Riley a total of twelve letters. Her bid was sealed. She had picked her man for Sparta.

At noon, alone in Jem's recovery room while he slept off the anesthesia, Scout made her ninth and last phone call of the day.

"Gus Corvin." The old man barked in his gravelly tone.

"Hi Gus. It's Scout."

"How's your brother doin?" He asked.

"Well," Scout sighed. "He's still with us. But….looks like it's just you and I and the boys for now."

She wondered how "the boys": the training team and corner men her brother employed, were taking the news. She had called Jamie earlier and asked him to tell everyone what happened. Gus was an old ring rat. He'd been around boxing since he was sweeping up popcorn and peanuts in the town auditorium at age nine. Jamie was an excellent MMA trainer with experince in Judo, Muay Thai and Brazillian Jiu Jitsu. Together, the two were an incredible duo. They trained as guests of Kale Walsh, a gym owner in Pittsburgh. Their lone fighter on their side of the state trained under them. Philly was where her brother lived, where Royce trained, and their two other fledgling fighters, who were about to be passed over.

Gus grunted.

"I talked to Colt Boyd. Remember Fitzy's, where Granddad would watch the boys spar sometimes?"

"Yeah." She could hear the sounds of leather on flesh and shouting and music and jump ropes and swinging speed bags in the background. Comforting sounds.

"I'm pulling us out of Kale's gym."

"Why?" Gus grumbled.

"Kale is a pig and doesn't know shit about shit." It was best not to mince words with Gus. Being straight was your best option. And Gus didn't trust anyone who didn't swear.

"All right."

"Colt's tomorrow morning, around 10?

"Yeah." Gus said.

"Oh and Gus?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell Kondo he's got Sparta."