The roar of the crowd, aggressive and unyielding; and much larger than expected. The mostly male audience shouted a near constant cacophony, shifting wildly from praise to condemnation at the drop of a fist. Most comments fell away, swept under the rug by a voluminous sea of shouts, although some drifted through the murky waters. Whether negative or otherwise, many were rather uncouth. Caught up in the momentary excitement, folks said whatever came to mind. These weren't the most pleasant of individuals.

The sordid slap of skin on skin elicited a momentary escalation from the crowd. Although the hit had been more volume than any sort of actual effect, they seemed to enjoy it, probably because the sound made it easier to tell what was going on. One very large man went so far as to pound on the cage, seemingly quite pleased with the strike.

Ayda stood in the center of the cuboid space, surrounded on all sides by undulating bodies and heavy-duty chicken wire which extended from concrete floor to ceiling. Scattered beads of fresh sweat collected on the neckline of her black tank top. Matching track shorts shifted as she moved bare feet into a more solid stance, a recovery from an effective body kick.

Her opponent—a Caucasian woman with mousy hair pulled into a ponytail—retreated closer to the cage. Stunned by the blow, she was not visibly hurt. Idly, the woman adjusted her yellow t-shirt. She displayed a calm and cool demeanor in defiance of her nickname, The Hurricane.

The fight only just started about a minute ago. It had been a series of firsts for Ayda: her first time entering the basement of a seemingly abandoned industrial warehouse, first time participating in an illicit cage fight and, just now, the first good hit of the bout.

Petey had come through on his word, much to Ayda's surprise. He called a little more than a week after their first meeting to offer her a fight. He added his boss was quite impressed with what he saw on the security camera footage of their trial bout. While momentarily put off at being recorded without her permission, Ayda eagerly accepted.

But this was not the time for solemn reflection. There was a battle to win, a fact which she was reminded of when her opponent shuffled to within striking distance. Ayda put up her dukes, but held position in the middle of the ring. The Hurricane—or Annalise, as she was born—threw a few limp little punches which Ayda easily intercepted with her palm. They were not meant to inflict damage, but to instead test her resolve.

The Hurricane launched without warning into a quick jab-hook combo, leading with her right hand. Ayda allowed the blows to bounce off her forearms, all the while marveling at their novelty. Despite getting into fights every single day, she'd seldom had the privilege of fighting a southpaw. She berated herself for not having immediately noticed, but the realization piqued her interest.

Ayda faded back, throwing a quick jab to cover her retreat. The Hurricane would not be distracted, however. She caught the back peddling girl with a low kick. The attack didn't do much more than annoy Ayda, but it affirmed something she's suspected since before the commencement bell rung. Although shorter and a little older, Annalise was no slouch.

The Hurricane shifted forward with a big overhand punch, a move Ayda would never have lead with. The younger combatant leaned to avoid the blow and countered with a hook. Her opponent caught it on the chin. Annalise flinched at the impact, and then it was her turn to shuffle back. Ayda came forward to attempt another body-level sidekick, but Annalise continued her rearward movement to avoid the strike.

Immediately The Hurricane whipped a lead hook kick straight at Ayda's face, attempting to catch her while she recovered. Ayda took a small step outside of the kick's rotation, avoiding it by fractions of an inch. This was where her ever-so-slight reach advantage came into play. She could just barely strike at Annalise without herself moving into retaliation range. While Annalise still had her foot in the air, Ayda threw forward a simple push kick at her other appendage still rooted on the floor. The Hurricane's base crumpled and she took a spill on the hard cement.

Ayda would've liked to continue the assault on her now reeling enemy, to end it all with a terminal curb stomp, but there were rules to the ring. Ground-based wrestling and submissions were completely forbidden. Dull hugging matches didn't bring in the spectators, and combatants with broken or sprained joints couldn't fight. Stand-up grappling, however, was perfectly permissible. All of this made the matches feel much like kickboxing events.

Annalise spent little time on the ground. Ayda backed up a few steps as her enemy rose. After an impact like that, she would likely remain dazed for a little while. Ayda knew from experience how difficult it was to offer an effective attack with cobwebs in the brain. The plan was hang back and allow the woman to make a mistake. Then, she would finish this fight.

Both of them firmly on their feet, they stood separate for a moment. Although steady in her stance, Annalise favored her right shoulder just slightly, betrayed by the lowered elevation of her fist. That lead jab she seemed to love so much may not be doing her much more good. Ayda dropped her defenses with a smirk she couldn't stop herself from forming. She baited The Hurricane to attack, dared her to try it.

The older woman answered in kind, but not in an expected way. Without so much as a twitch in warning, Annalise hurled herself into a massive flying knee. Off-guard could not begin to describe what Ayda felt as the now airborne woman sped toward her. Even her super-human reflexes were not enough to defend against the savage attack. She took a step back and turned to avoid it, but not nearly fast enough. The hard, heavy projectile kneecap smashed into the side of her head, making a hollow thud as the bones collided.

The force threatened to rip Ayda from her feet. Stars swam in her pupils as pain temporarily overrode every other sense. She stumbled back, knees buckling at every footfall. Frantically, she reached out for something, anything to remain upright. She found the cage. Her shoulders came to rest against the soft metal. It clinked and buckled at the sudden weight. Ayda allowed herself to fall back into it, breathing deeply in a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of composure.

The moment Ayda hit the barrier, Annalise pounced on her. She pushed the younger girl further into the cage and then transitioned immediately into a classic standing clinch. The women pressed together in a deadly embrace. The Hurricane wrapped her arms around Ayda's upper-torso, and placed a bent leg in her groin.

This was bad. Ayda's immediate reaction was to try and wriggle free, but The Hurricane would not be defeated by such infantile tactics. Annalise clasped her hands together behind Ayda's back. With every move the teenager made, the cage twisted and warped in response, smushing her further into the enemy's iron grip.

Clearly, that avenue of escape had been sufficiently closed off. Ayda's next plan was to slip underneath the suffocating clasp. Again she wriggled, but this time she gradually bent her knees in an attempt to slowly shimmy out. She wouldn't make it far, though. Annalise realized what she was doing and hooked her left arm underneath Ayda's right, deep enough to place a palm on the back of her head.

It was then the younger girl realized the strength difference between the two. It wasn't much, but it made a difference. Try as she might, Ayda couldn't move. She couldn't get free.

Although resolute, this grapple put The Hurricane's hands behind Ayda's back. The teenager pressed herself further into the cage, pinning clenched fists against cold metal. This actually put her farther away from escaping, but it also prevented her from eating any blows in the meantime.

Or, at least, that's what she thought. So preoccupied had she been on escaping from the northern half of this predicament, Ayda completely forgot about the south. A sharp pain shot up her left leg once, and then again as Annalise repeatedly jammed a bony heel into her foot. Ayda slid the appendage around in an attempt to move it behind the attacker's. Annalise responded with a sharp tug on her hair, which ceased all efforts.

Ayda ran the fingers on her right hand through the cage, and in doing so realized that entire arm had been freed when Annalise hooked her own underneath it. The teenager reached up toward The Hurricane's face. There was a brief struggle as Annalise tried to rotate her head away from the encroaching hand but she gave up shortly, electing instead to tuck her chin so Ayda didn't grab at anything vital.

Ayda grabbed a handful of the enemy's jaw. She pushed with all her might, planting her feet to throw more weight and balance behind the heave, but to no avail. Annalise was still stronger. If Ayda couldn't shake her off before, then a new attempt at the same thing wouldn't produce better results. She abandoned this course of action.

Instead, she opted to slam short punches into her opponent's back. She brought her hand as far out to the side as possible and then rammed it into Annalise three times in rapid succession. The Hurricane's core was like a rock. Powered only by her shoulder, Ayda's blows had little effect.

Everyone else seemed to enjoy them, though. The crowd surged at her redoubled efforts. Maybe it was because of her close proximity to the cage, but the people were very loud, almost unbearably so. Their volume filled the room, echoing off hard walls to further amplify the sound. The orchestra of cheers and guttural roars blared in her ears, easily blocking out any other noises. Perhaps they were just loud enough…

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Once again Ayda lifted up her fist. Her muscles tensed. Power coursed through her veins. She accelerated a punch into The Hurricane's kidney. The ensuing purple blast was tiny, small enough to be completely concealed by her clenched fingers. A small explosion emanated from it, but was swallowed up by the crowd.

The latter's response was visceral and instantaneous. She cried out in surprised pain. Her balance faltered, though did not collapse. Her grip loosened. This was the break Ayda needed. With a twist of her shoulders and a quarter turn, she took a broad pace backward, away from both the cage and her attacker. Annalise fumbled into several harsh steps, each one falling over the other. She ricocheted off the cage, using the structure to direct her momentum toward the ring's center. She only made it a few feet, though.

Ayda quickly glanced over her shoulder. The crowd, at this point, was in a frenzy, excited beyond measure at the miracle hit which transformed the fight back into a slugfest. None of them, even the ones who had been directly behind her, displayed any signs of shock or confusion. As far as Ayda could tell, only two people knew what she'd done: herself and Annalise.

This brought up a second concern, making sure nothing which just transpired ever happened again. Ayda snapped her focus back to Annalise, who was just beginning to regain her balance. No, she couldn't be allowed the chance.

Ayda charged at her. It was a short sprint, but allowed plenty of time to build up power in the run. The teenager did not stop upon crossing into striking distance. She turned her torso toward the enemy. The still somewhat disoriented Hurricane hadn't the slightest chance of reacting in time. Ayda's shoulder smashed into her chin, knocking her backward.

Twas now The Hurricane's turn to rest upon the cage. The wire flexed against the weight, doing most of the work to hold her upright. Ayda continued her assault. She propelled a horrible front kick into the midsection of Annalise. Pinned up against the cage, she could not move back to lessen the impact. Annalise took her full brunt of it. All the air in her lungs escaped in one terrifying gasp.

The fight was probably over after that, but Ayda was not finished with her, not yet. She stepped forward and grabbed Annalise by the collar. A quick twist hurled the slightly older woman to the concrete floor. She caught herself on all fours. Ayda showed no mercy. She buried her foot between the downed woman's legs, catching her square between the cheeks. The force of it shifted Annalise along the floor. Her face ground into the rough cement. She lay there, conscious but unable to move from the agony which took her.

It was then that Ayda heard the combined melody of several air horns blowing all at once. A slight yet quite noticeable hush fell over the crowd. Ayda looked toward the source of the interruption to see Petey with a ridiculous contraption in his hand, six horns duct taped together to form one super-loud instrument.

Ayda wondered what it meant, but wouldn't have much of a chance to figure it out. The crowed knew exactly what it was. The little silence lifted, replaced with chants.

"Shockwave! Shockwave!" They shouted in unison.

It took Ayda a moment to realize what they were saying. Every fighter chose a nickname before first entering the ring. This was hers. They were chanting her name. Ayda looked over to her opponent, who had managed to roll over onto her side. Her breaths were heavy. She barely moved.

All at once, relief and ecstasy washed over the teenage girl. The sudden stop to the conflict. The air horns. The crowd. A smile split her face. She giggled, despite herself. Ayda lifter her arms in a classic victory pose. The crowd went berserk for the conqueror. She'd done it. She'd won her first cage fight.

…

The night progressed in a rather rapid blur after that. Petey—whom Ayda gathered was the closest thing to an "official" present there—ushered her out of the arena shortly after blowing his air horn contraption. As she left, a few men helped Annalise get to her feet. She still seemed dazed, but not necessarily hurt as they led her out of the cage and through the crowd.

Once out of the fight, Ayda reported to the locker room, which was really just an old supply closet. It was also the only designated changing area, used by both men and women. She was alone upon entering, but still didn't want to take any chances. Instead of removing any of the sweaty, dirty clothes, Ayda simply slid on a pair of wind pants and a hoodie. She could always change later.

With her newly acquired gray sleeve, Ayda wiped off a dirty mirror in the room. Through greasy streaks on the glass, a reflection of the girl stared back. There were broken blood vessels and a bit of raised welting on the side of her head where The Hurricane's flying knee had hit. Ayda grimaced. That hit must've been harder than she thought. Such a minor injury would heal after a good night's rest, but it was irritating in the meantime. Elliot would probably freak out when she got back to their apartment.

Ayda returned to the main room after changing, but not entirely of her own volition. Necessity kept her in the building. Otherwise, she absolutely would have left immediately after the fight. In interest of their own safety, payouts were dealt to participants only after festivities concluded.

When she made it back out to join the crowd, another battle had already commenced. Two bulky White dudes jockeyed for position inside the cage. This place certainly wasted little time. With a sigh, Ayda blended in with the crowd. Watching people beat the snot out of each other wouldn't be so bad. There were many worse ways to spend a weekday night.

In keeping with the theme, the fights themselves were also brief. Without rounds or referees to break up the action, most combatants either burned themselves out or were unable to continue fighting after only a few minutes. Only a few bouts progressed into the double-digits, and those that did ended shortly after. It seemed most folks were unable to keep fighting at full capacity much longer than that. Ayda doubted whether she would be able to.

Most contests were between similarly sized individuals of the same gender, although a couple did mix the sexes. Of these, one went well for the woman involved. The other didn't last very long. The gap wasn't physical, in this case. They were of about the same weight class. No, the difference was skill. She was just simply outmatched.

Ayda's had been the first event of the night. So, she had a lot to stand through before it all was over. The energy from the crowd was infectious. While she didn't join in their revelry, the teenager did find herself having fun. She lost track of exactly how many matches took place, but it couldn't have been many more than ten including her own.

When all was said and done it was Petey who took center stage, but only long enough to proclaim the night's war concluded. At his announcement, the attendees dispersed shortly. No one wanted to spend time at an illegal, underground fighting ring if there were no fights to watch.

Ayda waited for most of them to leave before making her way through the facility toward a door on the far western end. If it were necessary to wait until the fights ended to deal out the winnings, then Ayda should probably show the same amount of care in collecting hers. The last thing she needed was to get jumped at any point.

The old metal door she went through led to a long, dilapidated, and dimly lit hallway. Gray cement in the walls was just beginning to crumble away. There were various cables and electrical boxes on the walls. They'd all seen better days. How this place maintained any working electricity at all was beyond her, but she had bigger concerns.

Ayda didn't stay in the hall very long. Her destination was only a few feet down on the left. The door she stopped briefly in front of was not original to the building. It was painted dark green. Made of much thicker metal than any other entrance, it featured a series of sturdy locks. At the moment, however, it was ajar. Ayda hesitated just a moment before entering.

Inside she found Petey, seated behind a large wooden desk, sorting through a small stack of papers. The space resembled the office in his boxing gym, although not quite as well kept. Dressed in his normal, gaudy golfer attire, he almost looked professional. The environment, though, squashed the illusion.

Petey looked up as soon as she entered, but gave only a nod in acknowledgement. He continued rifling through his papers. Ayda grew immediately impatient. She crossed her arms and cocked her stance to one side. She had been ready to leave directly after her fight. Spending a single second longer in that dingy old warehouse annoyed her. Thankfully for Petey, he only overlooked her for a moment before finally meeting her eyes.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he commented.

"I wanted to wait for some of the people to clear out."

"No, that's smart," Petey clarified. "I wouldn't trust most of them as far as I could throw them."

Without a further exchange of pointless pleasantries, Petey began messing with something under his desk. Ayda couldn't see what it was, but she could only assume it must have been a safe.

"Hurricane is one of our better fighters," he said without looking at her. "I'm surprised she accepted a fight with a newbie."

"Maybe she knew how awesome I am," Ayda joked.

Petey chuckled. "Yeah, maybe she did."

The man straightened up in his chair. What he held in his hand drew Ayda's full attention. Cradled there in his fingers was a loose wad of twenty dollar bills. He held it out to her and she approached, quickly grabbing it away as if he would take it back if she weren't fast enough. Not that he could stop her anyway. Ayda began thumbing through the bills. Petey spoke while she did.

"That should be four-hundred dollars," Petey remarked.

Ayda said nothing as she continued to count. Petey may have been a business man on the surface, but he still was involved in unsavory activity on a regular basis. In her several dealings with these types of career criminals, Ayda learned it was best to be prudent.

One thing rich people were good at was counting money, and Ayda did not pose an exception to this rule. A quick thumb through the old green denominations revealed it was, indeed, four-hundred dollars in cold, hard cash. Satisfied, she pocketed it and turned her attention back to Petey.

"Is this a normal amount?"

"That depends on how much we make on betting," he shrugged. "Today was a pretty heavy night. I wouldn't expect to get that much most of the time."

"That makes sense," Ayda nodded. "Do you need anything else from me?"

"Just to get the fuck out so I can close this place down," Petey said.

"Alright. Um… have a good night?" Ayda offered tentatively, not really sure what to say.

"You don't have to say anything. Just leave." Petey waved her away.

At his behest, Ayda exited the office, headed for the parking lot. Unconsciously, she fingered the money in her pocket along the way. Four-hundred wasn't a whole lot of money, and most definitely less than she was used to depending on.

Before, even though she tried to limit her spending to societally modest amounts, there had always been a safety net to fall back on; a limitless well to access if anything went wrong. That net was now gone. This amount could probably put gas in her motorcycle, but not much else. If something went wrong with it, if it needed repairs or something, she was completely screwed. Bernard wouldn't come to save her, and it wasn't right to expect charity from Elliot. Unless she managed to find more money somewhere else, this was it.

But, Ayda knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least she had access to a renewable source of income, and any amount of cash in her pocket was better than none at all. Things would work out, not because of any good fortune, but because she would make them work. She'd known hardship before and overcome it through sheer force of will. There was no reason to believe this situation would play out to the contrary. All she had to do was hold her head up high and keep moving forward.