Midnight caller

Reese feels himself relaxing more as he and Lockheart share small talk. Cutting into his steak, he pauses a moment at her question. He didn't often talk about this...come to think of it, the only person he had talked to about it was Wyatt.

"Well...I suppose...when a man loses his better half, it kinda takes the wind out of his sails. Not too much fun going out with the same friends anymore - you're suddenly the odd man out, the only one without a date. And doing anything else, you normally wind up alone, so it's not much fun. So..." Reese gives a little shrug and chews his food. "I guess the only thing left is work...it became my only passion so that's what I focus on." He gives a little grin, not wanting the subject to stay this deep. "Of course, Wyatt keeps warning me that that's no way to live and I need to get out more..." He cocks his head as he looks across the table. "Maybe he was right."


Carson ducks another blow from Torch, stepping back and kicking at the larger man’s midsection, hitting it as if it were a brick wall.

The thunderous shouting and stomping shake the lower level, going ignored by the two fighters.

Torch’s fist meets Carson’s mouth, sending him stumbling backward, blood and sweat flying. As he’s rammed into the cage, his mind reels. The last few guys he’d been up against had been his own size, but Terry had stepped it up, and he was really going to work for this one. The thought crossed his mind that he was going to have to be pretty quick on his feet to be able to come up with an excuse for his injuries after this one. The others had been easy…this was different, and he wished he would have argued with Terry about setting him up with someone from his own league. But it was too late now, and if he wanted to live, he had to fight.

He ducks another blow as the fight persists. They’d been at it now for twice as long as expected and both were growing weary, but neither ready to give up this war. There was too much money at stake.

As the brawl continues, Carson finally slips in behind Torch to jump on his back, wrapping his arms around his neck and a vice-like chokehold. Torch swings from side to side, trying to get Carson off his back as he would a pesky fly. He growls threats and trash talk, finally hurling himself backward.

As Carson is slammed into the corner of the cage, he can hear a sickening snap to his ribcage and pain shoots through his side. His eyes automatically water with pain, though he grits his teeth, still not letting go of his adversary. This was his only chance. If he didn’t bring him down now, it was over.

Torch continues to bash Carson back against the cage, but the more energy he spent, the more out of breath he became. Finally, he’s brought to his knees. Carson applies more pressure and a couple jerks, cutting off Torch’s air supply. Eventually he feels the giant go limp, and lets go, throwing him face first onto the ring floor.

The crowd gets louder and Carson stand panting, holding his side and not caring about whether or not the onlookers liked him. Taking a step toward the exit, his world spins a little and he staggers. Before he knows it, two other large men have come alongside him to help him out and through the crowd to the back room.

Sitting down on the hard bench, Carson winces.

“Yo, man, you took a nice hit,” Dane comments, tilting up Carson’s face.

“Yeah.” Carson can already feel his left eye starting to swell, and his jaw felt like he’d been walloped by a two-by-four.

Cyrus grins. “But you made it, Eagle. Nice work. Terry will put you on the schedule for sure, now. After a win like that? That was a real upset.”

Carson manages a short laugh, though that movement alone hurts. “If I can walk.”

“That bad?”

“Ain’t great.” Carson manages to slip back on his socks and shoes, grabbing what few things had been in his pockets.

“That’s the business, man,” Cyrus reminds. “You can’t make it next week, Terry won’t let you back in, you know that.”

“I know, I know.”

Just then, the door opens again, the roar of the mob getting louder for just a moment as another match has already started. Terry gives Carson a nod. “Nice work, Eagle. Didn’t think you had it in you. Torch and you…rematch…three days.”

“Three days?” Carson rolls his eyes. “Give me Cutter first.”

“No, it’s Torch.”

“Cutter.” Carson glares up at Terry. “Or I walk. You know you’ll make good money watching me and Torch again – we just got the crowd hyped. So I know you don’t want me to walk out of here yet. Give me Cutter first.”

Terry crosses his arms and thinks for a moment. “Alright. You got it.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a roll of bills. “This is for tonight. Beat Cutter, and beat Torch again, and that’ll double.”

Carson takes the money that’s passed to him, and stuffs it into his own pocket. Standing up, he keeps an arm wrapped around himself to hold his ribs. “You’ll be seeing me again.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

Carson is able to make his own way back outside, fighting the crowd and heading back up to ground level. The cool night air felt good, but not good enough to relieve any physical pain. Getting into his car, he finally doubles over, trying to recover. He hadn’t been willing to show how much pain he was in inside the building, but now alone, he just wanted to go curl up in some corner and sleep it away.

Finally he starts his car and pulls away, noting the late hour. It was almost midnight. He manages to get himself to his apartment, but parking in the lot, he stops to think. This was ridiculous, but he had to keep this whole thing under wraps. He simply didn’t have a choice. But how on earth was he supposed to get around this one? He needed something…some alibi…he had to come up with something good, and hopefully, after this he’d take fewer hits and it would be easier. It hadn’t been bad when he’d had easier opponents…he just had to keep this going a little longer until he had enough money.

As he moves to get out of his car, he stops, the pain shooting through his ribcage. He knew he’d broken a rib…and if he didn’t get it wrapped, it would only make things worse. But he couldn’t do it on his own.

Contemplating a moment, he shuts his door again and pulls out of the lot….

…Carson makes his way slowly up the walk and knocks on Misty’s door. He knew it was late, but knew if she was already in bed, she’d get up. Waiting for her to answer, he looks up as she appears. Swallowing hard, he looks her in the eye. “Sorry, babe…but I need your help.”


Bret smirks a little at Mabel, though his eyes twinkle with amusement. “You know I can’t handle anything too spicy.” He throws Charlotte a sidelong glance, then looks back to Mabel. “Yes, I’ll stick to my regular spaghetti and meatballs, thank you.”

As Mabel leaves, Bret focuses back on Charlotte, reverting the conversation back to where they’d left off. “Me…oh…I was born up in Colorado…but been living here for quite a while. Got a brother and sister…” He shrugs. “My life doesn’t have a whole lot of exciting twists and turns, other than meeting mystery women who appear from California.” He grins a little. “So I don’t think you ever said what brought you here.”