Chapter 2

I frowned as the man in front of me crawled onto his knees, took a ragged breath, and then somehow managed to get back on his feet. He tried to take a step but ended up back on the floor before I'd even had time to blink. He didn't seem ready to quit though.

Stay down damn it!

Through the openings in the ceiling-high chain link fence that surrounded us, I could see that the crowd was growing impatient. However, though they demanded I finish him off, all I could do was stay rooted in my spot. His face was a medley of purple and green bruises, and I could see that his arms were shaking.

Please, just go unconscious.

The man shuddered, but then stood. I could see him clench his jaw, and knew immediately that my prayers would remain unanswered. With a lurch, he charged at me.

I gave an internal groan, I didn't want to keep hurting him, but then reacted as I always did; on instinct, I attacked.

As soon as he was within arm's reach, I leapt, hooked an elbow around his neck, and then proceeded to punch him repeatedly in the gut. He groaned but kept trying to land a blow as he flailed his arms around wildly. I wasn't worried; my hold was unbreakable. Why wouldn't he just tap out?

Then, as if reading my thoughts, I felt it; the man stopped thrashing his fists and instead tapped his open palm against the forearm I was using to keep him in the choke-hold. Finally. A loud horn blared, and I let go of the man. He slumped to the ground and stayed there as he tried to catch his breath.

From the outside, a pair of dauntless ran up and flipped the hinge that kept the door to the ring shut. They rushed in and then positioned themselves at either side of the fallen man; helping him hobble his way out. I followed behind them, but while they continued to make their way out -probably to the infirmary- I turned and instead headed over to one of the benches that surrounded the arena.

"And that is it ladies and gentlemen! What a show we've had today!" The ringmaster, Jax, bellowed into the microphone in his hand. "Let's have a big round of applause for today's winners! From the female lightweight category; Alice, the Assassin, Jones! And from the male; Mac Andrews–"

Alice, one of the few female fighters to earn a nickname, jumped up from the bench and pumped her fists in the air. I could hear people in the audience cheer and a couple even tried to swarm closer so they could ask for an autograph; she was always a favorite. Mac, the newcomer who'd been steadily working his way up, seemed almost embarrassed as he waved at the crowd.

"–from the female middleweight category; Becky Owens! And from the male we have Kayne, the South-Paw, Hoffman!–"

Kayne, who I'd actually fought during my first week in The Cage, clenched his hands into fists and began to beat his chest in a gorilla-like fashion. I rolled my eyes; he always seemed to have a flair for the dramatic arts. The crowd let out a series of whoops, and began to stomp their feet.

"–female heavy-weight is Janice Graham!–"

The girl tried to smile, but her face was so swollen and bruised I actually found that I couldn't bear to look at her.

"–and last, but certainly not least, from the heavyweight male category; Sage, the Monster, Stronghold!"

I could hear thunderous applause, and even more shouts of fervent approval. I didn't care though; I hadn't chosen this career for the praise, rather as a sort of punishment. Instead of working the crowd as the other winners had done, I took a sip from my water and then continued to wipe the sweat and blood off my face with the towel I'd brought.

From somewhere deep in the crowd, someone began to chant the nickname I'd earned. First one voice, then five, then twenty, then more. It took only a matter of seconds, but by the time I'd screwed the cap back onto my bottle, everyone had joined in; their voices a roar.

"Monster, Monster, Monster!"

How right they are; my subconscious added bitterly.

Though they might've meant it as praise; a show of how much they admired me, I could only wallow in the fact that it was true. How ironic it was that the label I'd fought to stay away from for so long was now what defined me. I sighed, crossed my arms, and then glared down at my feet until the noise had died down enough for Jax to continue his usual speech.

"What a show, what a show! Am I right folks?" He said, pointing the mic in their direction.

The crowd thundered in agreement; their combined voices sounding louder as they reverberated across the high-vaulted ceilings of the cave-like room. Everything always sounded louder in here; not just the cheering, but the howls and shrieks of pain.

"To bad all good things must come to an end," Jax added, pasting on a look of mock-horror onto his features.

The crowd booed and heckled; just as they always did when he said those words. From where I sat, I could see the hint of a smile as he took in their reaction. Blood-lust; that was what this crowd was fueled by. As they'd chanted my name, but moments ago, the energy-charged crowd again began to build up another demand.

"Lockdown!" They stomped their feet. "Lockdown!" They beat their fists in the air. "Lockdown!"

While a part of me couldn't help but feel disgust and revulsion at their eagerness for more violence, another and much stronger part of me was relieved; fighting in The Cage was one thing, but fighting in a Lockdown was another.

I searched for physical pain because it took my mind off of the mental one I was always going through; I needed the release to stay sane. While it was possible to survive a Cage fight unscathed, or at least with only a couple of bruises, it would take more than a miracle for anyone to get out of a Lockdown without shedding a drop of blood.

To be a fighter in The Cage was both a relatively easy and immensely difficult career to have. On the one hand, anyone could decide to be a fighter; whether you'd been ranked first, or had barely scraped by, if you were young and had just finished your initiation, or if you were older and almost ready to leave the compound, it didn't matter. The hard part came because there was rarely a shortage of fighters. In order to make anything of yourself, you had to fight until you'd earned a title.

To earn a title was easy only in theory. As a new fighter, you'd first be classified by your own gender's weight ideals; for males, lightweights had to be at least one-hundred and forty-five pounds, middleweights had to reach one-hundred and fifty-five, and to count as a heavyweight you had to be one-hundred and seventy.

Afterwards, you'd be paired with someone and fight until the loser either tapped out, or was knocked out. The winners of each fight would then be paired up again, so-on and so-forth, until from the last pairing a true victor would emerge. Because there was an abundance of fighters, it was possible to actually go a day without having to battle anyone, but that's not what I ever did.

It usually took about five days to get to the final winners; like today. Then if the people demanded it, which they always did, there was the option of advancing further. That's where things got complicated.

I'd learned what a Lockdown was during my first week as a fighter.

"What's this I hear?" Jax continued, his smile widening as the crowd got rowdier. "Are you asking for what I think you're asking?" The multitude continued their incessant chanting and Jax eventually gave in with a loud laugh. "Lockdown it is!" He shouted.

A Lockdown, in a sense, was a walking contradiction. To actually get a chance to fight in it, there were a series of procedures you had to go through, however once you were actually in the ring, all the rules were out the window and it became a total bloodbath.

"From the victor's pool, whom would you like to see participate?" Jax asked the crowd.

This was it, the only reason I still went through these senselessly tame battles. After all these months of non-stop fighting, the Cage had become a sort of appetizer to me. Now, what I really wanted was the main course.

I tossed my towel aside and then walked over to stand by the other five victors.

Jax hopped down from his podium, and then began the ritual; he pointed to Alice, and the crowd went nuts, meaning she would be allowed to fight in the upcoming Lockdown. He pointed at Mac, but the people shook their heads and noticeably quieted down; he hadn't made it in.

Continuing down the line, the multitude ended up cheering for both Becky and Kayne, but stayed quiet when Jax pointed to Janice. Even if they'd applauded for her, I doubted she'd have accepted the nomination; she was looking worse every minute.

Then Jax pointed to me, and as usual, the mass of people stomped their feet and erupted into loud shouts and cheers. Me, the Monster, I was what they wanted to see. I'd rightfully earned the nickname the very first time I'd fought in a Lockdown. I hadn't chosen it; the people had just started chanting, and from their ominous words the title had emerged and stuck.

A massacre, that's what it was. A fight in The Cage, while certainly hard and taxing to the body, was nothing compared to a round in the much-feared Lockdown.

In a Cage fight, if you felt weak you could tap out, if someone cheated they were removed from the ring, and you were never allowed to fight anyone that wasn't in your same gender or weight class. There were rules, there were limitations, and there was still a diminutive sense of safety; all of which completely disappeared if you chose to accept a nomination.

The Lockdown fights had gotten their name for obvious reasons. It still took place in the Cage, which was really just the name of the large wired enclosure where we battled, but rather than have the door open, a large chain and lock were placed so that you could only leave once you'd won.

To win, the other person had to be completely unconscious.

There were no rules, no time limits, no exceptions; the crowd was the one that decided what happened. During my first Lockdown, I and nine other people had been sealed in the arena, given thick wooden bats, and then let loose on each other. I still can't really recall everything that happened that day.

They tell me I couldn't be knocked down. That I was a fearsome sight. They say I was hit repeatedly but that I kept tossing people aside like rag dolls. That though I bled, I didn't seem to register the pain. They say the clubs that landed across my back splintered apart and still, I moved forward. Rumor upon rumor; most of which I felt were greatly exaggerated.

The only information I believed was what the nurses who'd cared for my wounds gave me; that the amount of splinters they'd spent hours digging out of my flesh indicated that I'd indeed been repeatedly beaten. That the series of small concussions that appeared in a scan meant I'd taken more than a single blow to the head. After they'd cleaned a wound on my arm and given me medications, they informed me that in a rush of adrenaline, I must not have felt when someone actually bit me. And since I'd walked myself into their waiting room, they were almost certain I'd never lost consciousness.

As I'd said before, the title of Monster had been rightly earned.

It had been hard, it had been torturous, it had been hell on earth; but while I hated it, I also knew I needed the chaos to survive. After that night, I'd never missed a chance to jump into a Lockdown fight. It was different every time; sometimes they gave you weapons, sometimes it was as a team, other times it was just one on one; the people decided what challenge to give you.

Since we'd been chosen by the audience, we wouldn't have to pay a cent to participate in the battles; that's how things worked. For anyone else that did want to fight, they'd have to either pay the hefty price of admission, or they'd need to be sponsored. If you ended up winning your Lockdown fight, then you walked away with a profit of what the other fighters had paid, if not, you left not only beaten and broken but also empty handed.

Somehow I suspected that if the crowd, at one point or another didn't cheer for me, there'd certainly be more than a few people willing to sponsor me. I'd gathered from the talk around the Pit and the local bar that I made for quite a grisly and blood-filled show.

"Alright, alright! You've made your picks," Jax bellowed. "Tomorrow night, at the stroke of twelve, prepare yourself for a heart pounding, action filled, adrenalin charged Lockdown!"

The mass of bodies around us seemed to radiate with barely restrained enthusiasm. They weren't just a group of people; they were a single organism, demanding more, more, more.

"Remember, the seating will be limited, so come early or buy your tickets ahead of time. Because once the doors close, no one else will be allowed in," he recited. "And don't forget, standard rates do not apply. Tickets for tomorrow night's Lockdown will be double the regular wage."

The crowd groaned; but only out of habit. It was common knowledge, and readily expected that they'd have to pay more for the added gore. Really, they'd have paid anything Jax asked in order to attend the event.

"Let's get another round of applause for our victors!" He shouted.

Absently I wondered if he ever tired of ending all of his sentences with an exclamation point at the end.

"I'd personally like to thank you wonderful members of the audience! We've come to the end of this week's Cage battles!" He turned towards the other fighters who'd lost but had hung around for the end of the spectacle. "And fighters, if you didn't make it into tomorrow's Lockdown, or failed to reach the title of the week, worry not! Because starting back up on Monday, same time, same place, we'll once again begin the quest to find the very best fighters!"

He pointed back at the crowd.

"To the youngsters out there, are you feeling bold? Want to earn some money? Think you have what it takes? Then don't hesitate to sign up!" He held up a clipboard. "The only restriction; you must be a member of dauntless. Now that's all for tonight! Thank you!"

Loud, angry, throbbing music blared from the old sound system, and slowly but surely the place began to empty out. I wiped the remaining sweat off my chest and then yanked my shirt back on. The other victors and I waited until the end, and then marched up to Jax who'd already poked an unlit cigarette into his mouth. He handed each of us a wad of cash; this was one of the few careers that still dealt in actual currency, rather than the usual point system.

"Monster man, great stuff out there as usual," he said as he handed me my own bundle of money. "I'll see you next week?"

I nodded. He already knew I'd show up, but I figured it was a force of habit for him to ask.

He grinned, revealing the spot where he was missing a tooth, and then shambled away. I was about to follow behind him when I felt a firm hand land on my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?"