A/N: There is a miniscule amount of gore in this chapter. So, just a warning for the ones that are even mildly squeamish.

Chapter 4: Retirement

"He's no use to me anymore," came Romolo's rugged voice from the camper.

The window was open, so Odd could hear every word as he sat on the steps of the camper. The rain had cleared off, leaving deep puddles everywhere. The sun was beating down on his tan back. At least, with him being Italian, he did not really get burnt. Other cagers had to suffer through sun burns because most owners did not bother putting sun screen on them.

"Think he's worth a sale?" another voice said.

Romolo scoffed as he took a drink of his whiskey rocks.

"Doubtful. Since his eyes went to shit he hasn't been able to do much of anything," he replied. "I guess I can't complain too much though since I made a lot when he was still able to fight."

There was no response for a few minutes from the other man sitting inside the trailer. He was a familiar voice. He was a graying, middle-aged man who had only been around the camp for a couple of weeks.

Finally, he asked, "So what are you going to do with him when we all leave? I mean this place is getting flooded out. The weather is calling for even more rain tonight, tomorrow, and the next day."

Romolo rolled the ice around in his glass.

"Leave him."

"Romolo, they…I mean we are going to be burning the place down to try and get rid of as much evidence as possible," the man said.

"And?" he asked.

The man just shook his head and said, "Nothing. Nevermind."

"What about yours? Yours never even got into the ring."

"He is still in training," the man replied.

"Well, with this business growing, maybe you'll find somewhere you can really use him at," Romolo said.

The man had brought his cager to the camper as well and ordered him to sit on the ground next to the stairs. Odd knew the boy as Aeden. He was younger than him, and the only reason he knew that was because of his insistent talking when they first met.

Odd had only barely caught his features, piecing together how he looked before the injuries to his eyes and head took full effect. Even now, though, he could feel Aeden's eyes on him.

"Alright, well, you get outta here soon," Romolo said gruffly after downing the rest of his whiskey. "Gotta get everything ready for the bonfire."

He said it as though it were going to be a fun event. It was as though he had not just declared the death sentence of his own son.

Romolo exited the camper and called back, "I'm going to fetch some gasoline. Need any?"

The other man exited the camper as well and said, "No, no. I'm all set. Thanks."

He stood on the steps and lit a cigarette. He watched Romolo walk away and disappear out of sight. As he blew out smoke, he looked down at Aeden, who was staring at him with wide, watery eyes.

The man looked back out and blew out more smoke before saying, "The name is Aengus."

He looked down at the blonde boy in the rugged clothes. His arms were rested on his knees as he gazed out at people passing by, packing up, leaving, and some even pouring gasoline on their trailers and tents for torching. Aengus knew he could not actually see what was happening, but he also knew he was not deaf and not naive. He knew what was happening around him, and what was going to happen.

There were bandages on his arms and band aids on his fingers. He was unsure of what the hand injuries were from since his fighting days had been over for a while.

"You know…it's polite to respond when someone introduces themselves," Aengus said.

Odd still did not respond.

Aengus sighed and stepped down onto the ground.

He looked down at the poor sight before him. What he saw was not a boy who had drawn blood in the caging ring; it was a boy who had been forced into making money for a father who did not love him. It was a boy who had not used his voice in weeks. It was a boy whose eyes had fogged over and turned milky with their lack of sight.

This was hardly even a boy anymore. He was more of a shell of what used to be, and perhaps what could no longer be.

Aengus whistled, causing Aeden to stand up and walk over to his master.

A scent of soap wafted its way past Odd's nostrils.

It was strange; the fact that Aedan always smelled like soap when all of the other cagers smelled like cigarette smoke, alcohol, blood, and dirt.

When the two left, Odd was left alone on the steps. It was not until about an hour later that it began raining again and his father came back with the gasoline.

Despite the sound of pouring rain, he could hear the distinct swishing of the gasoline in the container as his father walked past him up the steps. To Odd's surprise, he stopped and looked down at him. He could feel his gaze and he prepared himself for a smack, punch, or shove into the mud. Instead, he felt a rough thumb move across the tattoo on the back of his right shoulder.

The mark had been forced onto him within the second week he arrived at the camp. It read "combattente," which was Italian for "fighter." Odd remembered when he first saw it; it was from that point he knew he would never be the same again. It was not only because of the mark, but because of what the mark stood for; he had won his first fight. He was never violent before, but at that point he had drawn blood from another. The only thing that comforted him when he had thought about it was that that person was trying to hurt him too; possibly even kill him.

It was also the mark of his servitude.

Odd could smell fires beginning to burn. He could hear his father pouring out the rest of the gasoline on the inside of the camper.

Finally, after half an hour, Romolo was finished. He was done setting the camper up for lighting and packing up his clothes, money, and other belongings.

He stepped out of the camper and placed the tip of a fire poker into the open doorway before lighting a cigarette, inhaling deeply, and blowing out the smoke. Odd smelled the sharp, musty scent briefly before a hard kick to the back knocked him forward into the mud.

Romolo stepped off the steps, lit a match and tossed it into the open doorway of the camper, causing fire to immediately erupt. The flames began hungrily licking their way outside the door and windows.

Odd's father had his boot pressed on the side of his head to keep him down and watched as the temporary home burned. The brilliantly bright flames reflected on Odd's unseeing eyes as he looked in the direction of the flames.

"Stay down," his father demanded as he stepped off of him.

Romolo pulled a glove out of his back pocket as he walked over to the burning camper. He grabbed the poker and lifted the tip to his face. The sharp tip glowed brilliantly in the dark evening.

"Alright, Odd," Romolo said as he stood over him again, boot pressed into his back to hold him down.

Odd's milky eyes widened a bit at the sound of his name.

"Time to retire."

Those were the last words he heard his father say before a searing pain erupted through him.

His scream could be heard throughout the whole camp as Romolo stabbed the sharp, hot poker directly into the tattoo on Odd's shoulder. It sizzled as it made contact with skin and blood.

…

A/N: Odd is blind oh my my my.

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