We don't meet anyone by chance.

-Avijeet Das

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Chapter One

{o}-{o}-{o}

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"Hey, Mox!"

Mox turned from his locker to see Sami Callihan sitting on the bench in front of the lockers, straddling it as if he were riding a horse, facing Mox. "Wanna do something tonight?"

Sami was one of the wrestlers who had been invited to join FCW, the developmental training ground for the WWE, at the same time Mox and Seth were. But Mox had known him beforehand as one of the teen wrestlers at his father's camp, SPWA. They had become better friends when they met again in WWE developmental, likely because they were both on the same level now, working their way through FCW.

Mox thought about it. It was Saturday, which meant he had tomorrow off. Quite often, he didn't bother going out, because it was nice to have a night were he could just sleep, but he'd been with FCW for almost a year, and he'd gotten used to the brutal schedule of training, working out, and performing, so going out on a Saturday night didn't seem that out of the question. "Do you want to hit a club or something?" he asked.

"Sort of," Sami said "I mean, there is a bar there, we can get drinks, but they don't have a band or anything, the entertainment is a little different."

For a moment, Mox thought Sami was suggesting a strip bar, the last place in the world Mox would go to, but then he remembered he and Sami already hashed that one out, and even though he didn't explain, Sami got it."Can Seth come?" he asked. Seth was like a brother to him, and the two of them shared a house together.

"I don't mind," Sami said, shrugging. "As long as he can be cool about it."

Seth turned from his locker. "Not to be a buzzkill, but I'd rather grab something to eat at that new Cuban restaurant down the road, and get to bed early. But, if you want to go, Mox, that's fine. Just don't be too noisy when you come home."

"I'll try," Mox said, turning to Sami. "I don't have a car, so you want to swing by our place and get me?" Mox probably could have walked to the apartment building Sami lived at, it was only a couple miles from the small house, but since this was Sami's game, let Sami drive. The kid did have a car after all.

Sami nodded. "I'll pick you up around eight thirty, nine o'clock. Where we're going, the place doesn't really start getting going until ten, but I want to get a good place to watch."

Mox looked at his friend, "Can you give me a hint of what we're going to be watching?"

Sami shook his head. "It's a surprise. But I can tell you, it will blow your mind."

Since Sami was often enthusiastic about everything, Mox wasn't sure his mind would be blown, but he had the feeling it would at least be interesting.

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"This is it," Sami said, pulling into a parking lot that was more dirt than paved, large chunks of asphalt having been long ago ripped out, probably from large, heavy, trucks driving on it.

Mox looked at the building. It was once a factory building, he could tell that much, but what they had made he couldn't figure out. But it was huge, all brick, with enormous smokestacks reaching way up to the sky. There were a few of these once factories around the area. Some had been converted into very expensive condos, others had been re-purposed as office buildings or storage facilities. Some, like this one appeared to be, had been left to age disgracefully in the last fifty years or so. "Okay, is this place haunted?" Mox joked. "Are we going to like put on some gear and get to play ghost hunters for a night?"

Sami shook his head. "Nope, something much better than this. Let's go."

They entered through a side door where Sami nodded to an enormous man who was standing right inside. He obviously knew the guy and the guy knew him, because he merely nodded. "I gather you're a regular here?"

Sami nodded. "They know me, which is a good thing. You don't get in here unless you know someone." As the spoke, he lead Mox down a hallway to a set of stairs. "We're going to the third floor," Sami said. "Race you?"

The stairs were wide enough so five people could have easily walked across, so Mox wasn't worried about running into someone, besides, they seemed to be the only ones here. And running up stairs was great cardio, so he nodded. As if someone rang a bell, they both raced up the stairs.

Neither of them were hardly winded when they got to the third floor and they both got there so closely that they declared it a tie. There was a set of double doors and another huge man standing there. He looked at Sami and nodded and opened the door.

As the doors opened, Mox's nostrils were assaulted with the smell of sweat, lots of sweat, that really strong kind of sweat that came from people either in intense competition or in fight or flight mode. Mingled with the sweat was the smell of stale beer and blood. The stale beer didn't bother Mox, but the blood and the sweat reminded him of the basements he'd grown up in. There was even a dank, musty smell underneath everything else. Blood? Sweat? He looked at Sami. "What is this place?"

"You'll see,"Sami said.

They walked inside where it was dim, dimmer than any nightclub Mox had been in. In fact, the main source of light seemed to be coming from the middle of the room, where there was no floor, but a big, open space. There was a balcony around this space, with guard rails. Off to one side was a bar, which looked as if it were hastily made and stocked. a few people were in there, but not many. "Doesn't look crowded," Mox remarked. He was glad for that, because the smell of blood and sweat and that musty smell were putting him on edge. Had there been a crowd, he might have run.

"Not up here," Sami said. "But the bar is quiet up here, at least now. I figured we'd get a couple drinks and go down a floor where we can really see the action." He lead Mox over to the bar. Mox looked around, bewildered. Sami bought two screwdrivers and handed one to Mox. "This is a secret I've found, the top floor fills up last, so it's usually easier than hitting the bar on the first and second floor. Some folks like the first floor, but I like the second. It's not super high up so you feel separated by the action, but not so low that you risk getting hit by blood and sometimes even teeth."

Blood? Mox thought, teeth? But he said nothing, allowing Sami to lead him to a staircase that lead down two flights. They went to the second floor, and Sami was right, it seemed much more crowded than the first floor. Now Mox could hear noises, soft thuds, mixed in with cheering and booing. Sami walked around the walkway until he found a spot he liked. "Here it is, isn't it cool?"

Mox looked down. It looked like a cage down there, one with no top, but wire on the sides, and brilliantly lit. The floor was wood, no doubt from the days of this place being a factory. That wasn't surprising, what was surprising was what he was seeing in the cage. There was a group of guys, probably about Mox's and Sami's age, all fighting. Not wrestling, not boxing, not even mixed martial arts, although some of the moves being done were martial arts moves. But this was a regular street brawl, just missing the street. A lot of the young men were battered and there seemed to be an awful lot of blood. Spattering the floor, running out of various places in human bodies, a whole lot of blood.

Mox didn't know if he should be impressed or horrified. "What is going on here?" he asked.

"Those guys are all fighting for a chance to take on the champion," Sami explained. "They'll fight until only one is left standing."

"Do the others have to be dead?" Mox asked.

Sami shook his head. "No. If you've had enough, you can go to an exit," He pointed to a guy who was dragging himself over to the exit, as blood dripped out of his nose and one ear. "You can leave, but you forfeit. You can try again in the free-for-all next week though. They'll do these free for all fights for awhile, get like ten guys who win that, and make them compete. The winner of that one will have a chance to fight the champion. That's what you want, because even if you lose, they're likely to let you fight other folks. Especially if the crowd likes you. Also, if you're on the ground and don't move for a bit, you're considered done and a couple guys come in and drag you out."

Mox watched the fighters. A couple were wearing shirts, but most of them were bare chested. Some were wearing pants, some shorts, This was brutal fighting, and he couldn't see much protective gear. "This is some sick shit," He said.

"Oh yeah," Sami said, grinning. "These people are out for blood." He went on to explain more about how the fights worked, but Mox was too busy watching in a mixture of fascination and horror as the men below kept fighting until only one was left. Someone came into the cage then, to lift the victor's hand. The final person he'd fought lay on the floor, panting, eyes swollen shut from the blows he'd sustained. The actual winner didn't look that much better, but the gentleman who came into the ring raised his hand in the air. "The winner of tonight's elimination fight, Jared Leto!"

Mox supposed Jared was glad to have won, but all the blood running down his body and into his eyes probably tampered his enthusiasm.

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As the night continued, Mox wasn't sure if he was becoming desensitized to it, but he was able to tolerate it without puking. He liked to wrestle, but real fighting wasn't something he was fond of, especially fighting like this, where the goal seemed more towards bloodshed, mutilation, and possibly death. Luckily though, nobody seemed to be dying that night. Mox wasn't sure if that was unusual or not.

Apparently, this was some type of real life "fight club" and highly illegal. Sami had somehow gotten on the "allowed" list. He showed Mox how to place bets, even though Mox would be dipped if he was going to bet on this. Sami placed a couple of bets, and even won one. "If you like it, I can bring you for a few weeks, and they'll realize you're cool, too." Sami said, as he counted his take and stuffed it in his pocket.

"How did you hear about it?" Mox asked.

Sami shrugged. "A couple of the wrestlers at FCW came here and fought when they were told they didn't make the grade. I found out about it through them. If you're good, you can make some decent cash. You get a percentage of what folks bet on you to win, that is if you win."

"What happens if you don't win?" Mox asked.

"You get a hell of a hospital bill, I guess," Sami said with a shrug. "Maybe they give you something for your trouble, but not in the free-for-all fights."

"You've never done this, have you?" Mox asked, making a sweeping gesture to the pit where another fight was happening.

Sami shook his head. "Nah, I like wrestling, but real fighting? Like is going on there? That's not my thing at all."

"You seem to enjoy watching it."

Another shrug. "Yeah, I do like watching it. C'mon Mox, nobody is forced to do this, they're all willing. And let's face it, there's something kinda neat about the reality aspect of it. Wrestling is awesome and it will always have my devotion, but I can see where people would like this."

"I guess," Mox said.

They got a couple more screwdrivers, served in red solo cups, Sami insisted he pay for it, since he'd won and they returned to the guard rail to watch the fights. Mox still wasn't sure how he felt about them. It was violent and brutal and that didn't appeal to him, he'd seen too much brutality in his life to feel comfortable with it. On the other hand, when he worked the indies for those few years, he'd done some wrestling for Combat Zone wrestling, where they fought with barbed wire covered brooms and bats, or slammed those large, fluorescent tubes into each other, the tubes that shattered on contact, spraying glass everywhere. If his back wasn't already scarred from his childhood, it probably would be now. He remembered times when he and his opponent would take turns picking the glass out of each other. Was this really so much worse than that?

Then, they called a woman's match. They'd had woman's brawl earlier, that had probably been more brutal than the one for the men's had been. Now it was the match between the champion and the woman who'd made her way up through previous brawls to win a shot at the championship.

The champion was a large woman, introduced as Morowa. She wasn't fat, but she was tall and muscular, like some amazon warrior. She even wore what looked like leather armor. If I was going to bet, she'd be the one I'd bet on, Mox found himself thinking, as he sipped his drink. He hoped her opponent would be strong enough to give her a fair fight, otherwise, he feared he might end up watching the worst slaughter of the night.

"And the woman who fought her way up the ranks to challenge her," the Announcer said, "It's Toril!"

A woman entered through the entrance opposite of the one Morowa had used. She was a lot smaller, but she too had some muscles. As she came into the center, she looked up and looked around at the audience, giving Mox a good look at her face. When he saw it, he ended up spitting out the sip of his drink he'd just taken. Holy fuck, was the only thing his brain would say to him, over and over again, Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck.

"Are you okay?" Sami asked.

Mox looked at him for a moment just looking, but not really seeing. Then, he caught hold of himself and nodded. "Yeah," he said, amazed at how normal his voice sounded. "I'm fine, I-I just thought I saw a ghost."

Sami laughed. "I doubt there are any ghosts in this place," he said. "I don't think anyone has died doing this, at least not on the floor itself."

Mox barely heard Sami, he was watching the fight, or to be more exact, watching Toril. She might not have been as big as the Amazon Goddess she was fighting, but she wasn't giving up. When it became pretty clear she was not going to win, she continued to try to give it her all, until she fell to the floor and stopped moving.

"Morowa is still champion!" the announcer proclaimed, raising her arm in victory. Morowa smiled, blood dripping from her nose and mouth. Two men came out to help Toril out of the fighting area. Like all sports, there was no honor in losing.

"Where's the men's room?" Mox asked.

"The first floor," Sami said. "Along the same wall as the bar, you can't miss it." He looked down at Morowa, who was still grandstanding. "That is one mean chick."

"Yeah," Mox said, and headed for the stairs.

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It took Mox a good ten minutes to find someone to help him and they were remarkably reluctant. "Look, she doesn't want to talk to you," he kept telling Mox. "She's in medical right now, and I'm sure she doesn't want to have some idiot trying to hit on her."

"I don't want to hit on her," Mox said. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, opened it, and removed a hundred dollar bill, which left him with a twenty and a ten. I hope Sami doesn't expect me to buy any rounds, he thought. He wasn't too concerned, since his win, Sami had been paying for all the drinks, waving away Mox's offer to pay. Mox held out the money to the huge guy who was guarding the section where the talent stayed between fights. "You can have this, I just want you to give her a message."

"Just a message?" The guy looked skeptical, but he also looked at the bill hungrily.

"Yeah," Mox said, still holding out the money, wishing the guy would take it. "Just a message."

"Toril doesn't usually fraternize with the customers." Giant Man said.

"She might with me," Mox said, pushing the bills toward the man. Almost reluctantly, he accepted the bill, but as soon as they were in his hands, they vanished into a pants pocket and Mox knew he'd never see those particular bill ever again.

"What's the message?"

Mox had managed to borrow a pen from the bartender when he went looking for someone who could give a message to Toril. He'd had an old business card in his pocket and had written his phone number on the back. No name, just a phone number. "Give her this."

The brute frowned at the card. "She's not going to just dial some random number. Who should I say gave it to me to give to her?"

Mox had to crane his neck to look at the guy, something he rarely had to do with anyone. "You tell her you got that number from Little Timmy."

Author's Notes: Kinda breaking my own rule here. Posting the first chapter before the whole story is roughed out. But, hoping this will motivate me to keep trying to write by dictation until my arm is healed. Broke thumb and a finger and 2 small bones in hand. Doctor at first thought it would take 3-6 weeks, now he's saying six weeks before cast can come off, at least. Then, PT.

I hate 1 handed typing.