Chapter Text
The university was encircled by a large brick wall, stretching across all four sides to wall in the campus and its apartments within an illusion of safety. Security guards did patrol the area, responding to concerns in a semi-timely manner, but ask any student and the most glowing review they would give you about the cops would be “they do their job some of the time”.
By one of the walls, old worn train tracks ran through a grove of pines. You could always tell when a train was coming by the faint vibrations, so March liked to spend her time up here, sitting on the wall, watching the carts clatter past at high speed. When there wasn’t the roaring of a train bearing down the tracks, it was quiet, save for the chirping of birds watching the sunset. Finals were finally over, and she could finally enjoy the warmth of the setting sun in peace.
She couldn’t help but check her phone from time to time. There wasn’t anyone she had to talk to, but the action was habitual, ingrained in her from a lifetime of being raised with a device in hand throughout her teens. She’d flick through Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, Tiktok, eyes glazing over from the continuous stream of content. At some point it all blended together in her head.
--but right now, she put away her phone in her jacket pocket, staring up into a sky tinged by pinks and oranges. She idly scratched at a bandaid on her knee. School bored her. Well, almost everything did. The campus was filled with people chasing after their next high, getting smashed at parties and smoking the nights away. All of that repulsed her; she wanted a change that mattered. She longed for excitement, the thrill of a shifting world.
So when a strange man called out to her, she answered him politely.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Yes, you in the white hair and thigh highs!”
She twirled a few strands around one finger, eyes slipping down to her hair. The snow-white of her hair was all natural, as much as people questioned it. She’d been embarrassed to be so different at first, but grew to appreciate it eventually. At least it meant she would never be just someone in the background.
“That’s me,” she said, “What do you need?”
The strange guy stood on the stone path a short distance away, immaculately dressed in a suit and tie and dress pants. It wasn’t the outfit of a businessman, persay, but the haughty aura of a Victorian-era nobleman. To see such an artifact of the past in the present was a little startling.
“I couldn’t help but notice your boredom, miss. Naturally, I figured I might have you a solution.”
He gestured to the way she was always moving, swaying side to side or fiddling with her fingers.
“You can’t hide your restlessness very well. Don’t worry, everyone is like that at first.”
Her ears perked up at that.
“There are other people like me?”
“Of course. It’s my job to find them and offer them… a change of pace.”
“I’m interested. What did you have in mind?”
He reached into his suit, revealing the edge of a golden ticket that caught the light brilliantly.
“Ten bucks, miss, and I’ll change your life forever.”
Ten was nothing to her. There was no hesitation when she whipped out her wallet, handing him a bill. In return, he passed her the ticket. Scanning both sides of the slip, she saw an address and a name.
[Adrenaline Shots]
[Boxing tournament for the discerning fellow]
March looked a little lost as she read the description. “But I can’t box. I don’t think I’d be a good fit.”
“No worries, my dear. You won’t have to worry about fighting. This is merely an exclusive club only for those who deserve it.”
“Oh. I guess I’ll see you there!”
“It would be a pleasure.”
He bowed at her before strolling off-campus. She briefly wondered what a guy like him, clearly too old to be in university, was doing walking around campus. Whatever, it didn’t matter. The same old routine she’d been following her whole life was threatened by the existence of this gold ticket, and she relished every moment of it. The flickering sparks of her inner thrillseeker began to flare again.
Even when she went to sleep that night, tucked safely under the covers, the mental image of that golden ticket stared back at her behind closed eyes. It whispered to her its promises of a new life, a secret world that she didn’t have access to before.
She awoke tired the following day, leaden but determined to see it through. She dragged herself over to the bus stop and tried not to drift off as views of the city trundled by the windows in her vision. Half-closed eyes caught glimpses of pedestrians walking to work, cars passing one by one in quests March would never be privy to.
When the bus stopped she got off and walked the rest of the way, finding herself in front of a pizza shop. She checked the golden ticket once, twice, three times before confirming this was the place. She meandered inside, eyes tracing the too-clean tables and the pristine cushioned seating, then drifting across the small menu and landing on the face of a bored cashier napping on the counter.
“Um… hello?” said March.
The cashier woke slowly, pushing himself off the countertop and rubbing at his eyes.
“Oh… hi. Sorry, just tired. What are you ordering?”
“Uh. I have this golden ticket, and it told me to come here--”
His eyes widened to a more awake and alert state, holding one hand out.
“Gold ticket? Hand it here.”
She passed it to him, and he scanned its surface carefully. No signs of defects, Authentically wrapped. Yup, it was the real deal. He handed it back to her, pushing open the staff-only door to the kitchen.
“Well, special guest, right this way.”
She followed the portly man through the barely-used kitchen, past pots and pans and unopened spices. The backdoor here led to some kind of hidden garage with a fancy black car waiting for her, idling in the small space. The driver was clearly some kind of butler, dressed up with shades and an air of professionalism that seeped through the glass of the car windows and suffocated her. He turned to her as the cashier and March entered.
“Another one?” asked the driver.
“Yup, bring her there,” said the cashier.
“Huh. Usually it’s a guy.”
“Best not to question his choices. Your job is to drive. Mine is to be a cashier. It’d do you some good to remember that.”
Their conversation went over her head completely so she just held up a hand weakly.
“Where am I going?” said March.
The driver rolled his shoulders, stretching before the long drive he’d have to do.
“I’m taking you to the club, miss. The master will be expecting you.”
That excited her. An exclusive club, run by a rich master? There was zero chance this could be uninteresting. She slid into a passenger seat easily, buckling in. The garage door opened, letting the car exit through an alleyway next to the shop. One merge later, they were on the road, driving along the familiar streets of the city. Her view of them was cut off soon after, though, as the windows all suddenly went black.
March called out to the driver in mild outrage. “Hey, why’re all the windows blacked out?”
The driver smoothly responded without taking his eyes off the road. “This vehicle is designed with protecting VIPs in mind. The secrecy of the club requires a level of… clandestine operation. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
She grumbled and slouched in her seat, despite not being that mad. It sucked not being able to see outside, but to be privy to such a secretive group made up for it. All the hush-hush was really hyping up her expectations of what would be at the destination. Bored, she messed around with her phone for a short while before the connection to the cell towers was cut as well. The car felt like it was going down a slope, so she figured it was the natural effect of being underground. After two hours of driving the driver finally began to slow, coming to a stop and unlocking the doors.
“We’re here. I can’t go inside, I’m just the ferryman, but you should be able to find your way in yourself.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you anyway.”
The man drove away, leaving her alone in a very small parking lot in front of a small building. It had no windows and sat some distance underground, as evidenced by the stone walls of the artificial cavern they were in. Still her phone had no connection, so she couldn’t even begin to figure out where she was. Mustering up a little courage, she bravely knocked on the wooden door that had a [CLOSED] sign hung up front.
One second became three became seven became twenty. She was on the verge of leaving when a voice spoke up through the door.
“Ticket…?”
March fumbled with her jacket and pulled out the gold ticket, presenting it to a little peephole in the door. The sound of moving parts preceded the door swinging open on its own accord, revealing no one there. Who had asked her for the ticket? It didn’t matter. She was in, and now she was going to find out what this boxing tournament was all about.
The hallway matched that of a typical suburban home but longer. A minute of walking opened into a larger area, a colosseum style of construction taking up the space in the huge room. She stood on the highest row of seats, where VIP booths were situated at one end of the ring. Below her feet were more rows of seats followed by a drop into a concrete lined pit. Harsh lights ensured everything could be seen, even though there wasn’t anyone else there at the moment to see it.
Etched into the golden ticket was a seat number. March followed it into the VIP booth, where she got the best seat with the perfect view of the arena. Etiquette made her sit down automatically, gaze roving around to take in the sharp surroundings. Moments later, the strange man from the campus appeared from a different hallway leading into the colosseum, adjusting a top hat before entering the booth. He sat behind March, finding a comfortable position.
“Ah, you’re here. Right on time, too. Punctual for someone so eager to break routine, hmm?”
“Um, well, I thought it was just being nice.”
“A good thing to strive for. I hope you’ll enjoy the show as much as the master does.”
She kind of wanted to see this master of his, but she felt it would be out of turn to just ask some rich guy to show himself to her, a peasant in comparison. Not a minute later more people began to file in from other hallways, cloaked in robes or hidden behind masks. None revealed their true identity, always opting to obscure themselves as another anonymous viewer. Their number nearly packed the stands to capacity, before the strange man entered a small chamber in the VIP booth where a microphone was insulated to the outside.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I hope you’re not all well-rested, because I know you all want to feel your blood pumping through your veins during this show today! This is your announcer, officiating session #487 of Adrenaline Shots!”
Wow… she was personally invited by the announcer of this show himself? This was so exciting! The audience’s eyes were suddenly drawn to the opening of metal gates in the pit, allowing two fit, lean men to step forward.
“On one side we have Johnny Lens, street rat of the Greenborough Gang! He’s here today representing his gang in this territorial wager!”
Wasn’t that the criminal group that controlled half the city? It put her on edge at the same time as it egged her on. This was getting interesting!
“On the other is the Mother Mangler, nicknamed at his request! Word on the street is that he leaves a trail of broken women in his wake! But will his strength be enough to beat Johnny?”
The name struck March like lightning. That was the alias of the serial killer responsible for the string of murders several blocks down from the university. What was he doing here?
“Ready? BEGIN!”
The thought tickled her mind that neither of the men were wearing boxing gloves, but the realization came much too late. Before she could process anything the two men were at each other’s throats, jabs cracking bone and hooks snapping heads from side to side. They came away from each other with a few missing teeth and bruised jaws, but ultimately paused in their fighting. One nodded to the other, and at the same time both ran for the edge of the arena. The audience, who had been goading on the violence, recoiled from the pair as they tried to climb out.
It was then he came out of one of the gates. He was incredibly fit and bare chested, body sculpted like a Greek god. The worried announcer had the life rush back into his face at the turn of events.
“And our fighters try to escape, but the master isn’t having it! This is a rare opportunity, folks, you’ll rarely ever get to see Abel himself in action!”
The violence on display was already dizzying enough to her. She expected the buff master, Abel, to simply tear them down from the wall and school them, but no. The horror slowly descended upon her as she watched him sock one in the jaw, knocking him to the floor and sending the guy on his shoulders down as well. The two of them tried to gang up on Abel, but he struck them like lightning with fists that carried the force of a gunshot.
She could only watch as the skull of the Mother Mangler began to crack, then splinter, then finally cave in as he kept punching. Abel’s fists were covered in gore when he got up from pummeling the serial killer, ribs shattered to the point of tearing apart the dude’s chest. Johnny Lens tried to drag himself away, but Abel sauntered over to him and grabbed him by the legs, swinging the fighter into the wall with a sickening crunch that had the audience gasping in delight.
Every swing of his fist tore flesh, and with every kick bones broke. Nausea rose in March’s throat, watching Abel slam the guy’s skull against the ground over and over, eyeballs popping and blood spilling out like a fountain onto the floor. Eventually she couldn’t take it anymore, holding her mouth and running to the restroom so conveniently marked with a fluorescent sign.
It was a clean restroom. She was thankful for it as she heaved over the edge of a toilet bowl, the calming tunes of classical music trying to make itself heard over the retching. It got so bad she wiped the traces of tears from her eyes from the sheer amount of throw up she’d evacuated from her mouth. Before she left she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, snow-white hair tousled and ruined, butterfly clips hanging on for dear life. Her makeup ran and streaks of black drew lines down her cheeks, which she scrubbed away with the fancy toilet paper in the stalls until she felt slightly better.
When she stumbled out of the bathroom she nearly bumped into the master himself, sweaty but cleaned of gore. He probably was just in the men’s bathroom washing off the blood. He grinned at her disturbed expression.
“You were the one that was invited, huh? Did he think you would be fighting?”
“What… what do you mean?”
“Normally the VIP gets to come down there and face me one on one. It’s an honor, you know.”
Images of what had just happened ran through her mind and she imagined herself being splattered across the concrete within the pit.
“Um, well--”
“I can see you’re not into it. Don’t worry, I think I’ve got other plans for you. Come with me.”
She would not say no to the man who was responsible for brutally mutilating two men not minutes earlier, meekly trailing him to a bedroom in a secluded area upstairs. He patted the bed and she sat down obediently, scared witless.
“You’re a thrillseeker,” he said, “that’s why you’re here. Just like me.”
“...yes…”
“So you understand I bring people like you here for the thrill. Of fighting them.”
“Mhm…”
“I can’t let you go. Not without some excitement. Something to get my blood pumping.”
She stared at the laminated wood silently. Abel bent down to look her in the eye.
“You can’t give me that thrill of the fight. But you can give me something else equally thrilling, hmm?”
His finger traced her collarbone, down towards her chest, and he felt a tear strike the back of his hand. His eyes twitched up to see her crying, trying not to sob in front of him, whimpering in warbled words.
“Why… why are you doing all of this?” she got out between sniffling.
“Because I’m here to have fun!” he said.
Abel pulled her jacket off gently as he spoke.
“And I think you and I could have a lot of fun without fighting. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”
Her hands reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to steady herself, even if it meant holding onto the man who put her in this predicament. He generously let her; a struggling catch was a thrill to fight but no fun in bed. So they spent the hours away, until Abel let her go. Though she was never the same after that.
