She'd been the love of your life for fifteen long years, five years ago, you managed to tie the knot with her... finally.

Zani Monte was the strongest office worker you'd ever met, she was poised and professional. Wearing a black suit and red tie while keeping herself on time all the time. When you first met her, she'd had to pencil your small dates in between college classes for business and her own personal time.

As you two grew together though, slowly she let herself loose. She was still perfectly on time at work, of course, but as you two went from 'good friends' to 'dating', she allowed her personal schedule to dissolve in favor to letting life take the reigns, and it was fun. No longer was she warring with her own creativity or worried about another day, now she was able to truly relax. Which is where she learned to share your love of fighting, kickboxing in particular.

When she popped the question, she'd just sent you to your knees with a high kick... and you couldn't forget that moment if you tried. She was your strong, caring, and horned wife at that very moment...

And then came a month ago. You'd had to take out a small loan, having misjudged the costs that came with finally starting up the boxing gym of your dreams. Luckily, you correctly estimated the returns, and had the debt paid back before they could start getting angry with you... and then the first letter came. You were confused, rightfully, and simply grit your teeth and paid again. And then the second arrived... and you stop replying.

When you arrived back to your modest home behind the gym a week ago, you could feel it, the dismal air that suffocated the memories kept within every pore of your home. You put away groceries, expecting to see the smiling face of Zani appear at any moment, but silence was all that continued to greet you. Eventually, you'd had enough and went looking... only to find a note scrawled weakly in her place.

'Times Up, she's the payment now.'

Rage instantly boiled in your gut as you crushed the note in your hands. Forgetting about dinner, and forgoing anything else. You began a rapid and emotional search for where they could've taken her.

You'll admit it now, as you stand in front of an old dingy warehouse, you're not exactly proud of everything you did to get this information. But does it really matter when your future's life hands in the balance? You shake it off, pushing open the worn down door.

The warehouse is empty, devoid of even the traces of use, all that remains are ghosts of the past, echoes in the dust of people and boxes. A thick layer of time covering any memories contained within, until you hear it. The unmistakable sound of a crowd cheering, coming from a side-door you hadn't noticed yet.

Opening it was like walking right into a wall of stench, it took extreme willpower to not vomit as your nostrils were assaulted by the stench of dried blood, sweat, and... less sightly fluids. Your eyes not faring much better as they stared down the dingy brick laden stairs, covered floor to ceiling in poorly made graffiti and blood on any remotely sharp surface.

Walking down them, your ears were the next to receive the pain, as the cheers became nearly deafening. When you managed to recover, you found yourself just under a raised boxing ring, inside two combatants duked it out. You couldn't see much, but given the splatters lining the floors and the discarded and forgotten mouthguards, that's not why people stay down here. Finding the way up, you step past the crowd... only to find your heart stops.

There, your eyes can't help but see the small traces of her face, the subtle features that remained past the bleeding and the swelling. Zani was getting murdered in the ring, by a man that looked like more muscle than human. It was only a millisecond before you dove into the ring, shoving the man back as you instantly tended to her.

She looked concussed, badly. Sleep-deprived, and barely alive. You slipped her gloves off, donning them.

This wasn't just a fight. It was survival.