Simulation 20/50; Year: 1919; Profile: Samuel Wisniewski, 17

"COME ON, WIŚNIA CHŁOPAK!"

"WHAT A WASTE, HE'S SLOUCHING! WIŚNIA SAM! I'm gonna lose my money."

"Never bet on a fuks."

"LET'S GO, HIT 'IM!"

"DZIKI! DZIKI! DZIKI!"

Another strike from his imposing opponent to the stomach put Sam down for a second. He squeezed his eyes to block out the sweat and blood. The crowd grew more impatient at the length of the round. The ever-encroaching seconds ticked by before an official draw could be called. Samuel attacked Dziki Dom with a hook to his tough oblique, barely shaking the man before him. Dom chuckled in response until another strike split his eyebrow. Fury filled his coal-black eyes. He loaded up a punch that he unleashed with unrelenting strength that sent the Polish boy flying across the slick concrete floor.

Dom towered above him, pointing his wrapped hand down at him. "Stay down, bachor, before you really get hurt."

Wisniewski let out a huff, trying to roll onto his stomach while the floor spun around him. His vision popped and faded before he fell face first back to the ground. He could hear the drowning sound of the crowd cheering and jeering at the outcome. Arms wrapped around his chest and thighs to carry him from the humid ring and to a chilly room frosted by the winter. His head lolled back and to the side while they tried to at least patch up his wounds.

"Welcome to the ring, Sam," Benek congratulated. "On the bed, one, two, three, drop him."

Samuel writhed on the bed for a few moments while the bartenders went back to work. He could feel someone cleaning off his face. Peeking through his bruised eye, Wisniewski could see his boss' interpreter wipe his nose with a washcloth.

"You tukeaiphyewblosthaerdidnt you?" she noted in perfect English.

"Eh?" he asked.

"Oh, only Polish, ya. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Is this another part of the job?"

"Nowak thinks I'm like a mother."

Sam furrowed his brow and nodded, "Nurse?"

"Thadsthwerd, nurse. You did well."

Sam sat up and nodded. "Thank you. I'm feeling better, I think I can take care of myself."

"Okay, would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"Do you have vodka?"

"Of course," she nodded, leaning over to pour the spirit out.

"Always prepared," he smiled.

"I'll never understand why Poles enjoy vodka so much."

"Where are you from, then?"

"England."

"How can you speak Polish?"

"Thank my grandparents. I'm just glad it came into use."

"You speak it very well. I almost would have thought your parents were Polish."

"Thank you."

"What's your name?"

"Hallewell."

"Hallewell, Sammy," he introduced with a nod. "Is that a family name or yours?"

"My family."

"Well, thank you for the help."

"Before you go, I do have to give you your money and a meal ticket." Hallewell escaped from the room, returning soon after with two dollars and a piece of paper. "Stay until five, then you'll be thrown out. You know, I haven't seen a fighter as young as you. What's your age?"

"Seventeen, yourself?"

"A lady never tells."

"I apologize then and will let you go back to Nowak. Before you leave, would you happen to know what time it is?"

"One o'clock."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Sam nodded, relaxing against the cot for a while longer to sleep off his headache before he had to leave for his actual job. He chastised himself for joining in on the fights, he had always beaten the boys in his borough but facing Dom was something else. It was stupid, he should have run the moment that goliath stepped into the ring, but hopefully, Sam could get a bit bigger one day to beat him. He rolled over onto his side and fell asleep.

Sam awoke a while later to the sounds of another fight below his room, no wonder he was given to him. He checked the time and began to fix his clothes before leaving the room for a meal downstairs. Through the crowd, Wisniewski could see some slight men brawling and bloodied before the crowd went silent. He sat a little taller to peer into the ring before a voice counted and the room erupted with cheers and laughter. Sam spotted them pull out the kid with brown hair, dragging him upstairs while Nowak's right-hand man updated the leaderboard.

"Is there anything you'd like?" the bartender called out.

"Anything to eat?" he slid the meal ticket over.

"How does Rosol sound?"

"Sounds perfect. Can I get coffee, too?"

He disappeared into the kitchen while Sam watched Nowak finish up the day's proceedings, his goons on either side, including Hallewell. The building quickly cleared out as patrons returned either to their spots at the bar or to work. Nowak went back to his office with some of his guards, the others continuing their jobs. Sam got his coffee and sipped on it while he listened in on various conversations.

"I see you survived," Hallewell noted.

"Yes, I haven't died yet." Sam pointed at the beaten-up piano against the wall. "Does that thing still work?"

"It's out of tune, but it does work."

"Do you have a piano key?" he inquired, trying to make the shape with his hands.

"Yeah, let me grab that in a few."

Sam's food arrived not much later. Finished up the dish when Hallewell returned with a piano key and waited for the teen to join her. Sam opened the top and began to hit each key, quickly fixing it as best as he could by ear. She wasn't wrong in her assessment of the instrument, nearly every F and B string was out of tune. After about twenty minutes, Sam closed the top and began to play a song. It was far from perfect, but considering he hadn't tuned a piano without a tuning fork in years, it wasn't too far off.

"How did you learn to tune a piano?"

"My father worked on instruments back home before we moved." He continued on to play Saidej Saidej on the partially tuned piano. The older patrons turned around to watch him. Sam stopped after the first verse and retuned a few more keys before testing on the lower and higher notes before closing the lid. "Finished, or at least as well as it can be done."

"Can you sing?"

"No, I must admit that I have a horrible voice, I cannot sing. I have to go, though, so I'll see you around, Ms. Hallewell." Sam nodded to her and handed the piano key back.

"Wait, if you can play, I'm sure you can make a profit from that than fighting? I've seen so many bad things happen to kids like you." She lowered her voice as she revealed.

"Whether I win or lose, I'll get a chance to earn money."

He returned for the next round of fights, ready for whatever Nowak had in store. Sam entered through the back room, immediately accosted by Hallewell.

"Please, don't fight, Sammy," she begged and pulled out her day's wages. "Please take this."

"No, I would rather die than take someone else's money."

He moved past her to follow Nowak into the ring. Before Sam stood a light man no older than him wearing surprisingly nice clothes for the fight. Wisniewski put up his hands as they were introduced, the round starting soon after. He drowned out the commentary and carefully watched his opponent, the last thing he wanted was to face Hallewell again with any injury that would prove her correct.

He dodged a jab then encroached upon his space to scar him before darting back. Sam leaned out of the way from another strike before tagging him in the nose with a jab. They glared at one another before Sam sent a barrage of strikes into his stomach. His opponent staggered back then loaded up a strike, feigning it before catching Wisniewski in the cheek. Sam cursed under his breath and rolled up his sleeves. He ducked under a hook and jabbed him in the face.

The first round ended. They stared each other down while new bets were placed and money was swapped. Sam moved back in as the next round began. He took a deep breath and waited again for another strike. His opponent was looking quite tired in respect to Sam. He finally threw a punch, landing it on his face. Wisniewski jolted back in pain then proceeded to peer at him through a teary eye. Sam quickly moved out of the way of another strike before finally landing a few punches.

Sam got one more punch in before he was pulled away from the opponent. The bar went silent as the other boxer staggered then fell. Noise exploded again as Nowak's men pulled the defeated boxer out of the arena. Money was collected and traded to the winners of the bet before Sam saw his earnings. The leaderboard was updated again and he was pulled to the side.

"Nice job, Wiśnia Sam. Come back tomorrow for your next match."

"Thank you, sir," he politely accepted.

Sammy turned to Anne once the manager left. "Thank you. You know, I don't mind fighting, it's fun."

"As long as you want to do it and don't feel like you have to. Do you want to get a drink?"

"Sure."

"Great, I'll pay." Hallewell got two mugs of beer. "Cheers to your win and to your talents."

"So, will you tell me how old you are now?"

"Eighteen now."

"Ah."

"But you're still cute," she flirted with a quick peck on the cheek.

"Wait, does that mean your birthday has passed?"

"Yes, yesterday," she confirmed.

"Then the next round or meal's on me."