As Blake's face is mushed into the fence, our eyes lock for a moment. I think back to the last time we saw each other. The stars above us. The glimmering looks we both had in our eyes. Now, we must be three maybe four feet apart. It's the closest we've been in three years. If I wanted to, I could reach up and slap him.

Part of me that wants to.

“Ding ding!”

The audience cheers at the bell. The big brute Blake was fighting releases his hold he’d had on Blake, before returning to his corner.

Blake stumbles to his feet, lumbering around before falling. Stevie rushes to Blake's side, catching him before he eats the metallic floor.

Stevie reaches down and grabs the few tattered pieces of black clothing Blake was wearing. It had ripped off during the scuffle. He then grabs Blake’s arm, pulling it around his shoulders as he begins dragging the body back towards their corner.

“C’mon Blake, let’s get ya back over here.”

“Heyya Tiiiiiaaaaaaa! How you beeeene~? Beanie weeeeenieeee~” Blake mutters out loud. A dopey smile plastered across his face.

My jaw drops to the floor in embarrassment.

* * *

The next time I open my eyes, I’m greeted with the sudden rush of cold water pouring on my face. I struggle to breath as the cold liquid drenches me. I feel the sensation of not being able to breathe underwater. I try to move my head out of the way, but Stevie stops me, gently grabbing my head.

“Hey hey easy there cowboy! You got rattled there purtty good!”

“Ugh.” I grab my temple, feeling a splitting headache coming on. I look at my hands, realizing they’ve been wrapped with the black fabric of my cloak.

“Your toilet paper wrap had fallen off, so I had to improvise.”

“How long was I out?!”

Stevie rubs the few hairs on his chin, “I dunno a few seconds? You got like thirty more before round three.”

“Mngg."

I look up, spacing out to the bright spotlights above. If they were closer, they'd melt my retinas. Wincing at the thought of melting, I look down at my hands. There's a burning warmth that runs from the bottom of my elbows, down to the tips of my fingers. It's a borderline uncomfortable warmth. The kind you get when you hold your hands too close to the campfire for too long. I want to pull away, and feel a relieving breeze of cool air, but there's no getting out of it.

We’re both quiet as he starts wiping the blood off my face again.

“Stevie, am I going to die?”

“Pffff…” Stevie chuckles as he dabs my face with alcohol.

“If ya keep this strategy of yours up, yeah probably.”

I frown. Wasn’t the answer I was quite looking for. I turn back towards the fence where my head was pressed in, seeing the audience. There’s a sea of rowdy faces, all looking towards their hero as juice casually props himself against the arena wall. Despite my efforts, I don’t see her though.

“Oh yeah, I saw Tia.”

Stevie’s eyes light up. He tilts his head quizzically, “Oh? Wait hold on, the Tia?!”

I nod.

“You mean, the Tia you had a thing with back in high school?!”

I feel my face flash with an embarrassed blush, “Hey!”

As the bell for round three rings, he shuffles his way out of the cage before continuing.

“Yeah like, didn’t you talk to me about her all the time?” Stevie then holds his hands up and starts dramatically mocking me.

“Awww Look at me! I'm Blake, and I have a crush on the really cute girl, and I don’t know what to do!”

I roll my eyes, growing more irritated by his nagging.

"Yeah yeah, very funny Stevie, will you can it already?!"

Stevie’s face lights up again, “Hey where is she anyways?! You wanna say hi?!” he turns away, looking out at the sea of people cheering.

“Tia?! Tia Where ya at?! Blake here wants to say howdy!”

I thankfully don’t see her on this side of the crowd, but his nagging on strikes a nerve in me. I slam my fist into the fence.

“Stop it you asshole!”

“Yes!” he shouts in excitement, “That’s what I wanna see outta you Blake! That anger, that rage! Also, uh- the guy’s charging you.”

I jolt my head around to see a fist heading my way. I try to sidestep the guy, but lose my footing, and fall back first onto the ground. As I go to get up, Juice grabs me by the head.

He wraps his arm around the back of my head and lifts me up. My body flails over his as he performs the textbook definition of a suplex. I try to fight but it’s too late. All I can do is watch my feet leave the ground and be raised above our heads.

My back and head slams into the metallic floor. My headache near doubles. I turn trying to bring myself to my feet, but I can’t tell my hands from my feet. I’m on my knees, I think? I go to grab my head but am pulled to my feet.

Juice grabs my hand like before, pulling my body past his as I begin barreling towards a metal fence. I turn my back, not wanting a repeat of last time.

As my back meets metal, the fence gives just as last time. As it reaches the peak of the bending, I feel momentum growing under my feet. As the fence pushes me off, I begin sprinting right back towards Juice. He tilts his head, confused. I throw my wrists up at the last second and crack him right on the nose.

Juice falls to the ground, in pain. I grab my wrists, feeling a burning sensation from where my forearm hit the foe. I watch as the crowd gasps, before booing me intensely.

I glance back at Stevie, who is now waving around a hastily made sign that reads:

"LOVER BOY"

Something clicks. Some deep-seated instinct inside my out of shape body finally snaps into place. Call it my light bulb moment if you will. I no longer felt fear, sadness, and/or self-pity. I felt one thing, and one thing only.

Anger.

Stevie’s words have made me furious, and I see now that was his intention. In fact, the more I think about my situation as a whole only fires me up even more.

I look up at Mitch. He’s giving me a smug grin. I clench my fist, my breathing growing heavier. The heat in my arms grows as does my anger. They are one in the same.

I turn my attention to the meathead as we start circling each other. Time seems to slow down as the tension becomes more palpable by the second. He looks calm, awaiting my next move.

As we continue to circle each other, I see Stevie behind the brute. His sign now reads:

"Donnie Johnson!"

I immediately understand what Stevie is referring to, as my mind remembers his story from earlier. I nod, letting know I understand his reference.

My enemy charges me again, and I'm ready. I dodge to the side again and watch as he bounces off the wall. I bring my leg up, letting him Juice run it right into his nether regions.

He screams in pain as I back away. Rage quickly fills the guy’s face as he charges at me again, so I repeat my dodge-and-punch maneuver again.

The pattern has begun.

This song and dance begins to repeat itself. The brute keeps falling for the same trap over and over, until eventually I have the upper hand. Seeing the opportunity, I start pounding punches on the guy as I land blow after blow. Much like he did to me. Every punch to the face seems to knock my foe back just a bit farther. My fighting style is sloppy, and I have a hard time keeping a rhythm, but I don't care. I keep going regardless, because I’m hell-bent on winning. My brain become a whirlwind of adrenaline, and as I land each blow, I feel myself starting to like the act.

I grunt, in a fit of rage, throwing a jab as hard as I can. The punch slams into Juice's abdomen, sending him flailing to the floor on the other side of the cage.

I look stumble, catching my balance. I cringe in a sharp pain, looking down at my arms. They've become so hot they are literally smoking. I can feel the sweat dampening the cloth. My skin is glowing a fiery bright orange. I gasp at the sight, and nearly gag at the smell.

That rotting Cloak stench.

I look up at Mitch. He stares me down from the top of his little scaffolding platform. We both have a moment of clarity, as a smirk crosses his face. I come to a truth he's no doubt known much longer than me. One that in hindsight, I should have realized a long time ago.

The only way to beat a Cloak, is with a cloak.

I turn to Juice and see him charging me. God this son of a gun just won't go down, will he?

Swinging my arm up I go to upper cut Juice and watch as he catches it. Our song and dance comes to a swift end as Juice throws me across the arena.

I tumble, rolling right into the chair that I was sitting on. I look down at it, then back at Stevie. He smiles, throwing his arms up. He’d left it inside by mistake.

Seizing the opportunity, I grab the chair and turn to Juice. He’s charging me with eyes a fiery bright purple. I swing the chair upwards, giving him a pseudo-upper cut. Juice’s head whips back as he falls to the ground.

“Stay down!” I shout, gripping the chair. Still, he begins to get back to his feet again. I clock him on the back, and he gets up again!

I back up, reassessing my options. No matter what I throw at the brute, he keeps forcing himself back to his feet. I run up to where Stevie is behind the cage, while Juice is still dazed.

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“Stevie he’s not going down! I don’t know what to do!”

“You gotta rock him with one good hit!”

“I’ve trie- Hrr-...”

I’m cut off as Juice picks me and the chair up from behind. He raises me up above his head as I sort of sit on his shoulders. I can see the top of the fence encasing us. As he turns, Juice throws his hands up. The audience loses it as they anticipate his next move. I reach with everything in me for the top of the cage. I feel my arm could hyper-extend, as my fingers slowly wrap around the metal bar on top of the fence.

I pull as hard as I can, bringing myself to the fence. Juice nearly falls over as I latch myself onto the cage. I pull myself up, wobbling as I balance on the top of the rickety fence. The crowd below is going nuts, their excitement rising in volume as they watch on.

I look down at Juice, as he jeers for me to climb down. I feel a million miles in the air. I don’t have much time to act. The fence I’m stood on creeks with every sway. The longer I'm up here, the worse it's gonna get.

I throw the chair down, smacking Juice right in the face. He grabs his nose, screaming in pain. Before he can look back up, I force myself to jump off the edge.

Time seems to slow down as my body begins its descent. Juice doesn't move, staying frozen in place. I imagine what he's seeing- a dumbass falling right towards him at what seems like Mach 4. I bring my arms in, pointing my fists right at Juice's bloodied face.

I land on top of the brute, fist first. His body gives, falling to the mat like a collapsing building. I land on top of him, bouncing off to the side. I reach up, grabbing the rickety cage as I struggle to pull myself up. Turning around, I see Juice's lifeless body, with Mitch looking down on him. He looks to his shorter minion next to him, and nods. She reaches in her bag and grabs a bell.

“Ding ding!”

The audience collectively gasps, and there's only a moment of silence before everyone in the audience goes wild, throwing their hands up.

In a moment of clarity, I look down at my now blood-stained hands. The bright orange streaks are quickly fading away, as the intense heat begins to wane.

I panic, looking up at my foe who is unconscious, now surrounded by Cloaks wearing hats with little red plus signs on them. I assume they’re some kind of medics. The Cloaks begin to wave their hands around over the body, as a weird glimmer begins to imminent from their hands. He’s not moving.

Did I… Kill him?

Stevie cuts off my internal reflection as he grabs me, jumping up and down.

“Dude, you did it! You didn‘t die a horrible gruesome death!” he shouts excitedly.

I don’t say anything, only glancing back at my opponent. He’s now sitting up, as the medic Cloaks continue to wave their hands around, presumably healing him. I exhale, thankful to see my opponent awaken with a sharp exhale.

"Blake, you did what you had to do but look at the facts. You won! You won this fight Blake!" Stevie shouts, pointing at my chest.

I look around, seeing the crowd of Cloaks booing me. They shake the walls, riled up. Frankly, it feels good to see them pissed off.

"You know, you're right! I did it!" I shout holding my burnt hands up excitedly.

It’s been a long time but at this moment I’m proud of myself. I’m not talking myself down right now. I was given an impossible task and managed to somehow see it through.

My happiness is interrupted however, by the chilling voice of Mitch.

"Blake, Blake, Blake."

As Mitch and his minion hop down to our level, the crowd's cheers fade into a murmur. Mitch looks over at his companion next to him, and nods. The short cloak scrambles, digging through a big bulky backpack before eventually whipping out what looks to be a small handheld scoreboard. They then flip one of the zeros, adding a one…

1-1

I look back at Mitch, who puts his hands behind his back, contentment swept over him.

"I have to say Blake, I 've not seen a performance like that in a while. I didn't know you had that much rage. If I didn't want you dead, we could've really used someone like you in our ranks."

Poised with anger, I barrel towards him. Stevie steps between us, holding me back.

"You're the reason I'm angry Mitch!"

He shakes his head, disappointed.

"Alas, it's a shame you're fighting on the wrong side. Anyhow, I’ll let you know of the final challenge soon.”

“Wait, final challenge?!” Stevie asks, puzzled as he looks at the pair, “I thought this shindig was just gettin’ started!”

Mitch crosses his arms, “It’s a best two out of three contest. Your friend here forfeited the first round when he ran away. Now that he’s won round two, we’re tied.”

Mitch's tone is honest, but firm.

I step, "Why not have the next challenge be me putting my foot in your ass?!"

The Cloak next to Mitch struggles to contain her snicker. Mitch gives her a glaring look, before looking back at me, giving no reaction.

He then waves his hands around, creating a thick layer of fog, covering him and the Cloaks around us. The fog dissipates as quickly as it appeared, leaving no one but us in the arena. Me and Stevie now stand in the octagon alone, and the abandoned grocery store is now empty.

"Yeah, you better run away! You little..." my fried voice struggles to keep yelling, as I slump down to my knees. As my adrenaline wears off, I feel myself overcome with a massive headache. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as other pain in my body quickly returns. It’s like a caffeine crash, just a lot worse.

Stevie reaches down, placing my arm around his neck as he picks me up, "Hey, hey, easy there killer."

"I need an aspirin." I mumble.

"We'll find ya somethin' just as soon as we get back to the Snack Falcon alright?"

Still leaning on my friend, we begin to make our way out of the arena. Stevie helps me out of the cage.

The crowd’s electric energy is gone, leaving a still, and silent empty grocery store. What was once a family-owned store now feels like an abandoned arena with a death trap in the center. I give the metal cage one last longing look before slumping towards the entrance.

"Blake?!" I look up towards the broken sliding doors and see people I'd nearly forgotten about.

My parents.

Shit.

* * *

“Blake?! Oh my God!" Mom shouts, sprinting towards me. I wince as Mom grabs my face, looking at my injuries. "Oh God, we need to get you to a hospital, I'm calling 911."

I shake my head, "No, Mom I'm fine."

"Blake, you look horrible, what happened?!"

I push myself up, trying to stand myself straight.

Stevie interjects, "Blake kicked ass, that's what he did!"

Both of my parents look at Stevie, "Huh?"

"Yeah! Kid was runnin' around, chair in hand. Flyin' off cages, wheelin' n' dealin, and beatin' a monster!

Mom furrows her eyebrows glancing at me, "...Huh?"

I shake my head, “Guys, do you think we can talk about this tomorrow? Over a nice home cooked breakfast?” I plead, desperately trying to weasel out of it. The last thing I want right now is to have to explain all of this to Mom and Dad of all people.

Suddenly, I hear a cold, and stern voice behind me. One that almost makes me jump out of my skin.

“I don’t know Blake. Don’t you think we’ve all waited long enough for an explanation?”

I dart my head around, to see Tia standing there. She tucks her hands into her flannel jacket pockets.

Where have I seen that jacket?

I turn around to see Tia standing there.

I throw my beaten hand up, trying to wave as I smile.

“Oh, hey Tia.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her face remains mute.

"You didn't see the flyers around town?" Stevie asks my folks. I turn back to the group.

"What flyers? We've been busy packing all day." Dad complains, rubbing the back of his head. He looks tired.

Tia hands Mom one of the bright orange flyers Stevie had earlier.

"Packing?!"

"Business trip." Dad remarks. He and Mom turn their attention to the flyer. As my folks begin reading, Mom traces her fingers across the page.

"...night of thrill, action, and su-....-craziest fight in history-... Blake Autumn?! ...fight for the ages-!" Mom looks up at me, "What does this mean, you were in a fight?!"

"Stevie's eyes light up, "Yeah, n' Blake had this guy beggin' for mercy too!"

Tia scoffs, laughing as she points at me, "Pfft, obviously. Look at him. The body of a winning champion. He barely made it out alive."

"Blake, I don't understand. You should be at school right now. You've probably got mid-terms coming up right?"

"I uh-..." I freeze up. I've only just realized there's a tiny, crucial bit of information I've yet to disclose to my family.

You see, my quick exit- the running for my life. The fleeing from a murder cult. That all happened to coincide with another plan of mine.

Dropping out of college.

It's just my dumb luck I almost get murdered before leaving.

Mom then butts in, trying to patch up my face again. Dad makes another comment on fighting, and Stevie and Tia both start to ask more questions. I feel like my head is spinning. Everyone is asking different versions of the same question. Almost as if they were circling me. I start to feel very claustrophobic, as they continue to ask again and again and again.

“Alright!” I shout.

Everyone backs away, as I strain to hold my hands up.

“Now that you guys are all here, I’m only going to explain this story once.”

All four of them look at me. Mom looks annoyed at the attitude.

“A few nights ago, I was walking back to my dorm from the school library. It was just a normal night like any other, when suddenly I felt something grab me. I tried to fight back, but couldn’t, only falling unconscious. When I woke up, I was strapped to some sort of bed? Gurney? I’m not sure, I was blindfolded. There was a group of them- those cloaked figures, all around me as they chant some weird tome. I couldn’t recognize what they were saying. Suddenly, my hand managed to slip through my restraints. I removed my blindfold, and saw I was in some sort of basement turned torture chamber. There were a bunch of… them. I bolted out the door and managed to escape. I’d heard of them before, some sort of cult hell-bent on taking over the world, but they were always played down as some rumor. In a last-ditch effort, I packed my bags and ran home. I got here just a bit ago, praying that the Cloaks had stayed back at school, but of course knowing my luck they welcomed me home.”

Mom interjects asking, “What were they called again? Cloaks?” She looks over at Dad, “I don’t remember there ever being a cult when we attended do your hon?”

Dad shakes his head, “Just rumors, but nothing more.”

I continue, nearly out of breath, “This cult. They were going to kill me, as some sort of sacrifice. Instead of killing me, they decided to play with me, make me compete to stay alive or something. If I didn’t win the fight tonight…”

“Blake dies?” Stevie asks.

I nod, “Blake dies.”

Mom discerningly nods her head, “Well Blake I’ll be honest that seems like a lot. I have so many questions, but I'll let you get some sleep. We'll talk about this tomorrow. Your father and I are gonna head home. Oh- When you left for college I ditched my old SUV for a sports car, so I trust Stevie to give you a ride home?” she glances at Stevie.

“Yes Mam! Blake it'll be just like ‘ole times!” he salutes, dawning his beaming smile as my parents walk out of the abandoned store. It's now just me, Stevie, and Tia all standing in the middle of the Freshmart Grocery Store.

“Thanks for bringing the end of the world home with you Blake.” Tia then remarks coldly, looking away from me.

I tilt my head confused at her attitude, “What’s your problem Tia?”

"You-..." Tia pauses, scoffing as she lets out a dry chuckle, “I outta slap you for saying that, but I’m too tired to care."

Tia goes to leave, but turns around, handing me something.

“Oh yeah. Your luggage.”

I take it, but before I can say thanks she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

“Man, what is up with her?” I ask Stevie.

“Well, the last time you two saw each other it didn’t go so well, remember?”

“Don’t remind me. Geez though, don't you think her parents would kill her if they saw her with that attitude?”

Stevie’s face goes cold, as he gives me a pained look.

“Blake, Tia’s parents are dead.”