7

As the first fight had come to an end, the small curly haired woman had hugged closer to her new boyfriend and wondered. She was almost certain she'd seen the fighter who'd been introduced as Green 1 before, but she couldn't quite place the face. That body she'd remember if she'd ever seen it before. Her eyes had widened as big as soup plates as she'd contemplated the smooth tanned torso and the flat plane of Green's stomach. No. She wouldn't have forgotten a body like that in a hurry. But as the blond fighter had lifted his eyes up to the audience, almost in bewilderment, she'd seen something familiar about him.

The noise of the arena was terrifying to her and she couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be down there in that fighting pit waiting for an opponent to appear. The blond had seemed ill at ease and almost as though he was unsure what he was meant to do. The atmosphere in the room was smoky and she viewed the proceedings through a blue, cloying haze as the men leaned forwards to get a better look at who they would be betting on.

As the announcer introduced the next fight, she mulled over the handsome blond face in her mind. The fighting frightened her. She'd only agreed to come to the club because her new boyfriend, Adam, was always finding new and ever more cunning ways to gamble. He'd told her that the club was a private affair, run by a couple of syndicate bosses new to the area. They'd moved in months ago and had set about recruiting men to administer the facility and to train the fighters.

Adam told her that he'd had a back room tour of the place when it had first opened and the syndicate were looking for investors and advertising their entertainment. He said it was high tech. and it was run almost along the lines of the old Roman gladiatorial schools and that all the fighters had the best accommodation, food and entertainment. He described private bedrooms, a quality medical facility and training areas that used weights and a large swimming pool. He was adamant that the fighters chose to be there and that they earning big bucks in the process.

He'd been excited about the prospect of a night's entertainment when he'd asked her to come with him, saying that she's enjoy the spectacle, but as she'd arrived and started to understand exactly what the entertainment was, she'd shuddered in revulsion. Wrestling she could cope with. Boxing was fairly civilised, but the sight of two grown men beating seven shades of stuffing out of each other with their fists, left her cold, and for most of the first contest, she'd kept her eyes closed. There seemed to be no rules. This was certainly no Marquis of Queensbury set up. So far as she could figure, the men fought until one was unconscious, or dead.

Adam had won big on the first contest, betting heavily against White who he'd seen fight before, and was happily fingering the wad of bills he'd just brought back from the betting office. She tugged at his sleeve. He'd never seen the new Green fight before, but he was always one to live on the edge and had bet his money on the newcomer without a second thought.

The woman made her decision. 'Adam, I don't like it here. Can we go? Please?' she asked, tugging at his sleeve. 'Its too dark and too violent. It upsets me'.

He smiled down at her. 'Aw, c'mon! The nights only just beginning. We can't go home yet, I'm on a winning streak, look' he showed her the pile of $100 bills and laughed delightedly.

The woman smiled tightly back and followed her man back to the arena where the next contest was about to begin. As she watched the next two men attempt to batter each other into submission, her mind went back to the blond she's seen earlier. He didn't seem like the rest of the fighters. They were just out and out violent, whereas he had seemed, towards the end, as though he genuinely cared for the other man. Sure he'd fought like a lion, but somehow, the sight of that body covered in bruises, cuts and blood made her sad and as she thought more about it, she felt as though she would cry. What made men do that? She shook her head. She'd never know. Even her cards wouldn't tell her that.

By the end of the night, Adam had won over $1500 and was exceedingly pleased with himself. As he bundled her into his sports car and she rested back against the new leather upholstery and soaked up the feeling of being rich, she wondered if dated this man was worth having to endure nights like that one. She closed her eyes as he drove her home, and, ever the gentleman, as they reached her front door, he kissed her and ran his hand tenderly down her face.

'Same time tomorrow love?'

Mary smiled at him. 'Where are we going then?' she asked.

'Back to the club. Don't ya just love it?'

She nodded slightly, unable to tell him that she hated the barbaric place and would happily die rather than go back – but. There was still the chance she'd see that blond again. As she closed the door behind her and started to make herself a cup of tea, the vision of his bruised battered but unbowed body haunted her.

Slowly she went to the bureau and took out the black velvet parcel. She hadn't used the tarot cards for months now and she felt odd as she went to the table and sat herself down. Others had thought she was a fraud, but she knew the cards had never lied to her before and she swiftly laid them out while concentrating on the blig blond Green 1.

She turned the cards over in the true Celtic Cross pattern, gasping as they revealed their truth.

Strength – the blond had fortitude

Justice – was he a law man?

The hanged man – he would sacrifice himself for someone

The Devil – temper and fights

She sighed as she read them. Green 1 would not have an easy time and it brought her no closer to finding out why she knew him…or did it?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Blue was also feeling bruised and battered. Early the next morning, his guards had come for him to take him to the exercise room. He'd been cooped up in his cell for more than 24 hours now as he recuperated from his last fight, although for a large part of that time he'd slept. The drug made him sleepy when he wasn't….wasn't. God if he could only remember what he'd been doing when he wasn't in the cell.

He'd given up fighting his guards a while ago, learning early on in his captivity that struggling only meant more pain and other things, and so now, as they opened the door, he struggled to his feet and followed docilely behind them as they walked down the corridor. He shivered slightly at being out of his room. Clad only in the white drawstring pants, the cool air conditioned air felt icy on his bare back and chest and he longed for the comfortable feeling of clothes. A vision of blue jeans and a red top swam into his head, but as he tried to catch at it, the pain threatened to make its re-appearance and he stopped.

As he got level with the next bank of cells he was stopped in his tracks as two guards opened the door and a tall blond man was led out. The two parties past in the corridor and Blue looked up at the other fighter, noting the fresh cuts and bruises, similar to his own partially healed ones. As he got opposite the blond, their eyes met.

Ice blue stared into the indigo depths as both men paused. There was a connection, although neither man could remember exactly what that connection was. Had they fought? Had they met here in this hell hole? Or was it elsewhere? Blue stopped in his tracks and looked harder at the big blond man. Green stopped toO. He'd had less exposure to the drug that Blue and his mind was not quite so fogged. And as yet he wasn't programmed to stop thinking.

He opened his mouth to say something and another pain lanced through his head, making him bend over and gasp in pain. But he'd remembered his partner. He remembered the soft blue eyes and as he bit back another gasp, he straightened and locked eyes again.

'Starsk' he gasped.

Blue looked at him as the guards started to drag him away. He struggled out of their grasp and took a step back.

'What did you say?'

'Starsky. Are you ok buddy?' Hutch pleaded with the man who was looking at him as though he was a stranger.

'Do I……ungh….' The pain threatened to rob him of his consciousness and the guards who'd seen the beginnings of the interaction took hold of his arms again. The brunette fought back with all his strength, whipping his arms from their grasp and taking hold of the chains around the blonde's wrists, pulling the slightly bigger man to him.

He stared with pleading, cloudy eyes into ice blues.

'Do you know me?'

He saw Hutch nod.

'Who am I?' he said softly.

Hutch didn't have time to respond, although his heart bled for his partner. The guards who'd been with Blue set upon him, pulling his arms cruelly back behind him and securing them there with manacles. As Hutch started to protest and try to protect his partner, one of the big men punched Blue in the stomach, bending him over as he gasped.

'No talking' he shouted as Blue gasped in pain, saliva stringing in silver beads from his open mouth. They punched him again, and he fell to his knees, doubled over on the floor as the guards kicked viciously at his side. Blue fell over onto his side and stayed there, gasping and looking up at the blond above him.

Hutch was struggling too and his guards took a firmer hold and started to march him away. He looked back over his shoulder at the brunette lying on the ground behind him and struggled to get back to him. He so wanted to touch the brunette, to tell him that he was there. Not going anywhere. But deep down he knew that the days of Me and Thee may well be numbered. The guards pushed him forcefully forward. As he started to turn a corner in the corridor he heard a pained gasp from the injured man.

Deep stormy blue eyes lifted in pain and Blue groaned 'Hu..tch'.