Hand to hand

Wyatt is just driving from the murder scene when Misty calls. He answers, keeping his eyes on the road. “Hey, Cous. No…nothing too interesting, other than the fact that there’s no doubt it was a murder. Brown was concerned it was Agency connected, but I don’t think it was. This guy had a lot of enemies, so it could be a number of things. Why?”


Reese ends up ordering a steak, and concentrates on different parts of the room…people…tables…lights…

As Lockheart speaks to him, he finally looks back at her, and a smile finally breaks forth as he chuckles at her question. He gestures to himself. “Not like this.”

Trying to relax, he shakes his head. “Apart from work? I’m afraid there really isn’t much to me away from TJY. It’s my life…it’s why I spend more hours there than at home, and when I do end up at home, it’s to fall asleep in front of the television set.”

He grins, catching Lockheart’s eye. “Wyatt can’t stand it that when I’m out all I can talk about is work, but I fear there just isn’t too much else for me to talk about. I guess that’s why he and I get along so well when we go fishing…we have to just stay quiet if we’re going to catch anything.”


Bret aims for the booth in the back and thinks. “Uh…just get me a pepsi, thanks, Mabel.” Reaching the booth, he slides in the far side, not needing to pick up a menu. He knew what he wanted already.

“So, Charlotte…” He cocks his head, questions sparking in his eyes. “Where does a beauty like you come from anyway?”


Heading into the building it’s still quiet, appearing to be deserted. Only at the very far corner is one dim light, leading the way for those who know where to go.

Through the dingy door and down the dark concrete steps, the noise starts to build. As the door at the bottom swings open the jeering shouts and cheers is one massive wave of noise hitting Carson’s ears.

The room is crowded beyond capacity with people lining all four walls in undefined rows – a mob watching the center ring.

Shoving his way through the crowd, Carson holds his chin high, defying anyone who stares at him. He aims for the back room, spying the man he’s looking for.

A tall man with black skin eyes Carson and gives him a sneering grin, his gold tooth glinting in the dim lights. “Well, if it isn’t the Eagle himself. Wasn’t sure we’d see you again after last night.”

Carson glares at him. “I told you I wanted a rematch.”

Terry shakes his head in amusement. “Against Cutter? He’s out tonight – though that would have been good.”

Carson crosses his arms. “Then set me up with someone else.”

“We got Torch. But I think he’s a bit out of your league.”

“Good. Then the pay will be good.”

Terry lifts an eyebrow in thought. He’s distracted by a moment by the shift in cheering, and glances over the crowd to the ring where only one fighter is still standing. “Alright…you beat Torch I’ll up the pay and we’ll knock you to the next level. Lose and you’re back to square one.” He holds out his hand.

Carson shakes it. “Deal. What time?”

“In two fights. Get ready. And Eagle…watch yourself. Torch killed the last guy from ground level that challenged him.”

Carson shrugs off the warning. “You just worry about your cash flow.”

Within minutes, Torch vs. Eagle is added to the board at one end of the room, the interest rising in the crowd as bets are made quicker than any one person can keep track of…

…Carson paces in the back room, his hands wrapped, but without gloves. These kinds of fights were intended to be brutal and without protection, they were. Carson had gotten away so far without hard hits – last night had been his worst, with a loss after getting knocked out cold. Tonight was either showing bravery or stupidity and he wasn’t sure which. But if he could pull it off, he’d have enough money to run on for another week.

Taking his phone out of his jeans, he flips it open, noting he had a voicemail. Listening to it, he sighs and shuts the phone again. If he got out of here early enough, he’d call her. Excuses were already forming in his mind. This racket down here was illegal, and if he let it slip, he was through.

“Yo, Eagle. You’re on.”

Carson sighs and steps out the door into the thunderous mob once more to make his way to the ring. As usual, he was in his bare feet and jeans, his lack of shirt showing off his tattoo which had born his handle. A red bandana served as a headband to catch his sweat and he marched to the ring, entering the cage.

Gritting his teeth, he paces, waiting for his opponent and trying to ignore the shouts of the crowd.

As the almost-seven-footer enters the ring on the other side, Carson sees just how outmatched he is by this hulk of a man. He was going to have to be quick to compensate if he had any hope at all.

Torch glares at him, the flames on his pants making him recognizable by fans in the back. Smacking a fist into his palm, he gives a nod in Carson’s direction, threatening him.

Carson waits for the sound of the buzzer, then makes his move.