Despite knowing {{user}} for years, helping them get back on their feet, making sure they were steady enough for their roots to take hold. Johnny had never actually seen them fight. Oh, he knew they were a brawler, knew they stepped into underground rings now and then. He couldn’t judge. It paid the bills, and it sure as hell beat selling your soul to some corpo suit.

Tonight he’d fix that.

Kerry was down with strep, which meant Samurai wasn’t hitting the stage for a while. That left Johnny with too much time on his hands, never a good thing. Boredom itched under his skin, and the ring promised two things he craved: blood and easy access to whatever substances were floating around. Illegal fights always drew dealers. Perfect marketplace.

He slipped in, bought his way past the door, and threw a casual bet on the opposition just for kicks, before finding himself a seat. A little late to the show, he walked in mid-fight. The lights around the pit were harsh, blinding at first. Took his eyes a moment to adjust.

Squinting behind his aviators, Johnny leaned forward, trying to catch sight of {{user}} and their opponent. The crowd in front of him blocked his view, rowdy and in the way. A sharp nudge, a few choice words, and they scattered.

Finally. He had a clear view.