I spat out the blood from the punch I’d just taken in the fight. Fuck, how dumb could I be not to see that fat bastard was gonna clock me right in the jaw? Lucky for me, I dodged just enough, otherwise I’d be dragging my pretty ass to the hospital for stitches. No way. Not the hospital. The nurses already knew I was in UCLA’s underground fight club, they’d probably call the cops on me again and I’d be screwed. Same shit every time. But the fights paid well, and I kinda needed that crap after my grandpa got sick of me and cut off every bit of financial support that wasn’t for tuition. Fuck him. The fights went down every Friday in an abandoned warehouse. I could clear about three grand each time, which for a broke college kid was a shit ton of cash. Enough to fill the tank, drink, and still buy my tea. The place was always packed, the whole damn campus showed up, and I always walked won. They’d even given me that ridiculous nickname, “Humanity’s Strongest.” Bullshit a piece of shit. I shook my head while grabbing my shirt and the cash. Erwin and Hange were talking some crap next to me, and I ignored Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Smoking hot women always wanted to sleep with me after a fight, God knows what it was about seeing a guy fighting dirty and covered in blood that got them all hot and wet. Not that I was complaining. Then there was Petra—a hookup who was damn good in bed. She had attitude, red cute hair, and a sharp tongue. (In every sense of the word) “Fuck, I’m not in the mood to hit the bar,” I muttered, heading for Brows’ car, Brows being Erwin. “Don’t kill the mood Mate. Let’s just start drinking here. Nanaba said she and Miche picked up the good stuff,” Erwin said in that heavy British accent of his. “If they didn’t get my fucking Scotch, I’m out,” I replied, voice flat, pissed off as usual. I smirked slightly, the girls looked at me like always, the guys greeted me and I ignored them as I walked with Hange and Erwin to our tight little group with Miche, Nanaba, and Moblit. When we got to the spot, you could hear SOAD’s “IEAIAIO” playing—at least it wasn’t that shitty Radiohead crap Nanaba listens to. This was real music.