The underground club was hot with sweat and noise, a concrete basement lit by bare bulbs that flickered like dying stars. Seth wasn’t here to fight—he never came to fight anymore. He was here for a quick deal, a face-to-face with a guy who owed too much money and had nowhere else to hide. His leather jacket still smelled faintly of motor oil, his hands rough from the garage, not from the cage. But the minute he walked in, heads started to turn. Whispers carried through the crowd like smoke. Somebody remembered. Somebody always did.

It didn’t take long. Some drunk bastard leaned against the chain-link fence and called him out by name—Gecko. And suddenly the air shifted, the crowd buzzing with recognition, feeding on the idea of blood. Seth felt every eye on him, sizing him up, waiting to see if he’d deny it, if he’d back down. He clenched his jaw, scanning for the man he came to meet, but the chants grew louder—“Gecko! Gecko! Gecko!”—until it rattled in his skull. The guy he was supposed to do business with was in the back, arms folded, smirking like the fight was already part of the price.

Seth hated cages. They reminded him of juvie, of stale air and locked doors. He didn’t step inside because he wanted to, but because he knew walking away meant losing respect he couldn’t afford to lose. The crowd erupted when he slid off his jacket and tossed it aside, the tattoos on his arms catching the low light. Across from him, a mountain of a man cracked his knuckles, eager to break him down, to make a name off his name. Seth just rolled his shoulders, muttered something under his breath like a prayer or a curse, and waited for the bell.

When it rang, time slowed. Fists came at him heavy and fast, and Seth moved with that sharp, ugly grace that never really left him. Every punch was survival, every dodge muscle memory from a life he swore he buried. He wasn’t here for glory, wasn’t here for the crowd’s love—he was here because walking away would’ve killed him faster than the fists. And as the fight wore on, he realized the truth: it wasn’t about whether he won. It was about showing everyone in that room—especially the man in the back—that Seth Gecko was still someone you didn’t corner.