Sorrow comes in many forms.

Wolves' grief comes out in food. Some binge, some starve. They become prone to wild mood swings, turning violent or suicidal. This behavior is one of the reasons each Pack has its own land. A haven where they can run or hunt as wolves while ignoring the trappings of humanity. After nightfall they howl their goodbyes towards the moon.

Elven funerals aren't open to the public. They’re not anti social, but very ritualistic. They smile while trading, interact in schools, but these relationships are all superficial. Only a few elves ever dare associate with humans beyond a passing friendship. In the end, all family deaths involve planting a tree over the deceased's grave.

Vampires will praise those departed. The longer the life, the louder the praise. Betrayals are just as intense. Dirty secrets that come out decades later, when the cultural norm has shifted enough to be judgmental. Vampires will honor the murder of their true friends with obsessive vengeance.

Humans varied just as wildly. I celebrated my sorrow by drowning myself in drinks. Not just a single glass, it was an entire supply chain of bottles all filled with wonderful substances that induced incoherence.

Cheering from the front rooms rattled down the hall. Game night shouts reminded me that this bar was full of drunks. Lots of them. All swilling down liquid problem solver.

Slowly the advertising and careful management helped this bar recover. Pack members had found someone new to shuffle drinks around then replaced one of the waitresses who quit. No one but me remembered what she looked like.

There were some holdouts from the prior crowd. Those stubborn people consisted of myself and the frequent barroom patron who thought plaid was a single color. He always took the same bench at the counter. Third one down from the end. I crawled away to the back room. He paid his tab faithfully every night, while mine came out in trade. And I wasn't a lightweight when it came to liquor.

Four weeks ago I vanished into a bottle and hadn't come out. Sobriety wasn't an option. Glasses were been pointless because drinks went straight down my throat. Tonight the world around me felt blissfully dull. Nagging from my full bladder had numbed. Noise from the main bar was muted. No one came down here unless there was a real problem. It was safer for everyone that way.

I had been prone to bouts of physical expressionism upon other individuals. Hell. The wolves thought it was funny while matching punch for punch. Every now and then a new person would stumble back looking for a fight. Like I was the bar's test of manhood. ‘Welcome to town, let's go rile up Jay and see who's still conscious in an hour.’

I should have changed the television channel. Blurry pictures of last week's ceremony flickered by on the screen. Each one fueling smoldering hatred. Only excessive alcohol maintained the lethargy. Two full bottles of rum had finally reached my shoulder blades.

Drinking solved nothing, but it did put things on hold. Consequently I had no problems. When the booze ran out the world would come crashing in and demand attention. Each one of my issues had a name attached.

Evan was an elf who called me his Lord. The confusing designation brought me more trouble than happiness. He could tell me what I was in another six months. Too bad it was pointless this late in the game. I wanted to know who I was because of one person, and they had just tied the knot with an unexpected suitor.

Candy was another elf who spent her time screwing me over literally and figuratively. Twice. A sneaky tramp. Making a deal with her had saved lives, at a high cost. I couldn't decide if I liked her or hated her. Probably both.

Daniel was a supposed friend who played me more than once in the last year for an unknown goal. Sector Agents had a motto, everything for the peace. That included keeping me in the dark about my life. He had been off doing who knows what since things fell apart for a second time.

The list didn't cover half the people I dealt with. It even left off the most important person. A female I shaped my life around one way or the other. I couldn't even think her name without getting angry.

I needed new uncomplicated friends. Assuming there was such a thing. Expecting a grown adult not to have emotional hangups was unrealistic. There might be five people without baggage in the world and they were only friends with each other.

Opening the desk’s bottom drawer was a downer. There were only two more bottles to keep me company between now and sunrise. Drunk me was pessimistic about the odds of making it through the night. Six hours where I needed to stay calm enough to avoid doing something stupid or plastered enough that I couldn't coordinate myself out of the doorway. Fifty two hellish minutes of overtime should have rounded up to seven hours.

The stupid action I had been contemplating for a week was very straight forward. Should I kill the muscled headed prick on the television?

Kill.

Livid thoughts coiled around my mind painting clear impressions. After weeks, months now, I understood more. This wasn't possession, psychosis, or telepathy. The strange thought patterns came from a suppressed version of myself that had been buried by necessity. I didn't understand it all. More accurately, I didn't remember.

Can peel his pampered hide. Disturbing what is mine. Takes Dangerous Mate away. Filthy hands.

If I hadn't spent the last few hours being exceedingly plastered the man on television would have been dead by sunrise. Never mind his fangs, the speed and strength that came with being a full vampire. Never mind that he was over a hundred years old and had experience on me. There wasn't an ounce of fear in my body that he might get me first.

No sneaks. Can take the Tick easily. Know the home inside and out. Can feel every ounce. Is a home. Our home. Reclaim it.

Each person had a title that was strangely fitting. My former girlfriend was thought of as Dangerous Mate. Most vampires were called Ticks. Evan was Incomplete Servant.

For the Tick’s safety I personalized some drinking games. Every time the television screen showed his smug face next to hers I would drain another glass. Whenever their vows were repeated that would be two glasses. Speculation about the future, net worth, them dancing, kissing, her face beaming quietly up at his. Everything had a liquid equivalent. Two hours passed and I was down to one bottle.

It wasn't that I could begrudge her. My ex sort of girlfriend, Kahina, deserved happiness. Just not without me.

"Jay?" The voice wasn't timid, but it was whispery and apprehensive.

I barely glanced over my shoulder towards the doorway. The man talking was tall and gangly looking. His hair was uneven and I could see bald patches that had formed. Everything about him, even the comically thick glasses, told you he was even less of a people person than I was.

"What, Charlie?" Despite all the drink there wasn’t even a slur in my voice. Anger kept parts of my brain functional.

"I have jobs for you. If you want. If you're not busy. I, I'll understand." He wasn't quite stuttering. Charlie had a healthy fear of interrupting my brooding mixed with serious social anxieties.

"Fine. Give me a job." I said.

"Alright." His feet shuffled with every step. A moment later he was back with a picture and sheet of paper.

Tonight I had to be sober enough to earn my keep. There was probably a cab out in the bar parking lot that would take me wherever Charlie had in mind. This had happened a few times recently. It wasn't enough to keep me completely distracted.

"There's only a few, a few, some outstanding accounts left." He said.

"Oh." That was bad. The need for my services would run out soon. Rum by the bottle wasn't cheap.

"Unless we start, start the whole thing up, again." He suggested.

"Not sure." I stared at the television and tried not to hate the world.

"We could, but we'd have to find a new front person. Julie, I mean I, I'm, I'm no good with that, and you're..."

"Only the muscle." I said dryly.

"Sure." The way he said it didn't sound sure at all. It sounded like he was trying to say something but couldn't find the right words and had given up.

"I don't know anyone."

"Neither do I." Charlie looked disappointed. He once worked the numbers for the betting and gambling that this place had run. Julianne, our deceased boss and ex owner of the bar, had been a bookie in her spare time. Not a huge operation, but enough of a side business to pad everyone's pocket.

"Well."

"If we run out of jobs I can't pay you as much." He said.

I'll babysit the door." I tried to shrug but drunkenness may have blocked the action.

"Maybe. Or we can offer, offer maybe, tracking services. Not the loan stuff. Maybe a missing persons service." Charlie tried not to stutter and failed.

"Maybe." I drained a good chunk of the latest bottle and tried not to glower at the television screen. It was showing another scene from my ex's recent wedding. Hell. The media thought she was an actual Princess or something.

"If you think of something, let me know. Otherwise I, I, well, I may have to find another job." Things must be bad if Charlie was thinking about bailing on this place.

"I'll consider it." I took a few tentative steps and found myself depressingly stable.

"I had a couple in, in here last week. Looking for their son." Charlie said.

"Yeah?" I didn't really care.

"Run-away. Heard of a, referral. Offered five hundred. We could split that. It's enough, enough for a little while."

"We aren't front counter type." I said.

"No. Probably. I could try, maybe. See. Maybe put an, an ad, online, somewhere. We did that, once, I, I think." His hands stayed clasped together.

"I guess." Another motionless shrug went through my head.

"Yeah." Charlie wasn't normally one for words. He kept his sentences even briefer than I. Here we were having a full fledged conversation.

My head started to swim a little as the latest batch of swill processed. I said, "I better go."

Charlie nodded and stepped into his office. I took the employee exit and checked the note. The handwriting was sharp and concise. An address, a name, an amount. He even wrote in likely locations to find the person.

My gut clenched when I saw the locations. This was the type of person I hated. Frequented all the wrong habitats. Fight clubs, betting arenas, brawl pits. Different names for the same idea. There was only one real contender for true enthusiasts. Bottom Pit. Chances were that was exactly where I might find tonight's debtor.

I hailed a cab.

Traveling always took at least an hour. Didn't matter if it was on the other side of town, a county or two over, three blocks away. Always an hour of uncomfortable car riding. The commute got me sobriety and ample annoyance. I had the driver drop me a few blocks away from Bottom Pit. He got his money and I got out.

I borrowed a retail store's restroom in exchange for buying breath mints and water. It was late at night and the clerk was barely coherent. The clock above the door told me it was after one.

Perfect timing. Bottom Pit would be probably be warming up to their main act. Fights were held near two in the morning. It ensured that even vampires could attend if they wanted. Wolves had no problem staying up that late. Elves rarely found their way into the betting grounds below. Humans made up the crowd's majority.

Death wasn't always involved but the ambulance drivers knew which nights to be aware. Bottom Pit didn't even have to hide from law enforcement. Waivers were signed, and the best fights were always non humans. Mostly wolves. Secretly, I think everyone enjoyed it when the other races, vampires and wolves, killed each other off.

Contenders flew in from all over the Sector, nearly seventeen packs had fighters in the last tournament I went to. That was five years ago. I had been a different person. Stronger, faster, more sure of myself. A creature that lived wholly in the now. I became someone else over the years. This completely worn sad sack of a man. It was like the bits of my life that made me feel normal had been muted and blurred. Static ground over entire batches of past.

Exploration of the holes in my memory was a mission for sober Jay. Progress was nonexistent.

Bottom Pit had no signs outside, just a main entrance and a side one. Secondary doorways were typically easier and quieter. Less idiots to deal with. Bottom Pit was odd in that getting to the back door required passing by the front door. The place was half fortress and club security could decide to stir up problems.

The main entrance had bouncers with dark glasses standing outside. There were always three big guys guarding the doorway. Another four would be inside. Each one was built like an extra beefy linebacker. Their arms crossed and faces sat etched in nearly permanent scowls. Topping it off were uneven teeth from frequent fights that oddly mirrored slight bellies and thick arms. I was a big man myself, but these guys were the next size up.

One scanned the line trailing along the building side. The other two stood in the doorway creating a narrow space that Bottom Pit's visitors would have to squeeze through.

I walked casually towards the side entrance off to the right of the main door. Past the small line of mostly human males. Past the swollen grunts at the door. One meathead lowered his dark shades in my direction. Orbs tainted with greens and yellows peered over the rims.

Abruptly he grinned and elbowed the other doorway bouncer. Soon they both had the same silly expression. They both gave a polite nod. I kept going past the strange greeting. There was no hassle, no names, no words, only a smile and acceptance of my presence.

They knew me. Or they mistook me for someone else. Perhaps I had hung out here and lot more than I remembered. Part time, maybe a fight or two. It was entirely possible there were gaps in my memory about this place. Some might come back to me as I thought about it.

There was actually two side entrances. One giant doorway for cargo trucks and the smaller normal sized entryway. No guards. On the other side of the metal would be giant iron bars that served as locks. All sorts of things went in through this door. Employees, the owners, fighters, take out delivery.

This place felt far too familiar but I hadn't been to Bottom Pit for years. I knocked on the smaller door. It was the same knock I used when going to people's houses. Firm and without hesitation.

Feet shuffled as someone muttered just inside. A grate in the middle of the iron frame slid open and two eyes looked out at me. The face was older but vaguely familiar.

"Dunno you." The man inside said and slammed the tiny slit shut.

Two voices conversed on the other side. The metal barely muffled their routine. They argued over and then the peephole slid open again.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Former employee, looking for someone." I answered.

It slid shut again and they talked some more. There was a grunt and shuffle of feet. The same face opened up the slit and peered out. It was easy to see the scars and broken noses he survived. There were some new ones layered across his cheek that hadn't been there years ago.

"Password?" He asked in a dumb voice.

"Little pig, little pig." I said. It had been a password when I worked part time in this very building. The pair behind the door probably didn't remember me. Both of them had been hit on the head so many times that they were as scrambled as I. It might have been that charm thing around one of my limbs messing with their perceptions.

The metal slit clanked shut. Standing here longer was bringing back memories of this place. I vaguely recalled how things would look from inside. Pure iron flowed through the building. Elves shied away from Bottom Pit for a reason.

I sighed and tried to get a feel for the words on the other side of the wall. To feel them echoing into their surroundings. It took a bit to unfurl my mind. To picture the nearby world as mine. That was the key to any abilities I had. Ownership. By perceiving something as mine I could feel it like an extension of my own body. It also made me stronger, faster, though just how strong and fast I could get was beyond me.

Flipping the mental switch of ownership was harder now than it had been five years ago. It was also easier now than a month ago. That other voice took heed of our location.

Familiar. Feel blood. Ground through the building. Much. Some mine. Something else here. Been here. Many times.

The thoughts were murky. My brain censored itself in an attempt to prevent me from remembering everything. It skipped, mused, pondered an idea that I couldn't quite grasp. Constantly incomplete thoughts were becoming habit when I tried to track things.

Want to know if they will obstruct me. Between me and what is mine. May reconsider. May break them. Unsure. Can feel the words. Sink into cloth. To wood. To unnatural stone.

"He's knows the champ’s password." Mud Wall speaks. Bigger. Body displaces more air. Dull. His words hang with drool.

"Yeah but is he the champ?" Shorter. A quiet anger. Roughly shuffles grainy paper. Folds. Refolds. Leaves sharp creases.

"Nah, looks like a chump."

"Chumps ain't champs, wrong password, tell him to go away."

"What if he was a champ?"

"He'll know the rest." Second creatures turns. Feet grind onto dirty concrete. His hands hold something. Paper, magazine. Rolled up. The eyehole slides open.

"Go away." The mutilated face was a wary distance away from the hole. Probably been poked in the eyeballs once or twice. I shook off my other senses and spouted the second half.

"Open up or I'll huff and puff." I said. Hell. Whoever made these passwords based on nursery rhymes was a moron.

The little slot closed again. Their words were loud enough that I didn't need to use my senses to pick them up. These came through unfiltered by my strange thought process.

"He knew the rest." The stupid one said.

"Stop hassling me then. Let him in." His shorter friend grumbled.

"Yeah but we don't know him, and he ain't food."

"Moron. I'll check." If there had been a third person behind the door this might have been more amusing. Their banter almost felt normal. Nothing had changed in the years I was gone.

Rusty dragging preceded a fourth opening of the peephole. Eyes looked out at me. They looked up, then down. Then back up and down again. To the side, one arm, then the other. I wasn't wearing a jacket tonight so there wasn't a lot of room for concealed weapons.

Finally it closed. Then the door opened and a short round man greeted me. He didn't offer to shake hands. Both his limbs were too busy with a bag of microwaved popcorn.

"Hey, John." The roll of flesh said. "Long time no see. Come on in before the rabble notices."

I walked into the building. Another part of my past that had been buried with everything else. Parts of it were coming back to me just by being inside this room.

"Hey, Barnie." I greeted the shorter round man. The second guy was was named Ted. No one really liked Ted because he had the IQ of two squirrels fighting over the same nut in a field of acorns.

"John?" Ted said.

"John, you remember John, used to work here back when the old Boss was still coming ‘round." Barnie sounded grumpy half the time, friendly the other half.

Barnie had been in the business for so long that any sense of morals had been ground to dust. It didn't make him a jerk. He was actually decent enough until the orders came down. I had seen the man aim shotguns and shrug just before pulling the trigger.

"That's back aways. Years, yeah Barnie." Ted was my size, not a wolf or anything. Just a big guy who had more muscle than brains. We got along fine until he started drinking. He was a mean drunk.

"Yeah. Hey, John, Boss left a skirt in charge. She's a fiery bitch who wouldn't know a good time if it pried her legs apart. Keep clear. You know, else our business ends. Unless you're gonna fight. Let me know. I'll get one of these suckers to put some money on you." Barnie said all this while pulling his chair back out and plopping down in front of a television playing old movies.

"Huh." I said. I didn't remember fighting down here.

"Easy money, yeah Barnie?" Ted had a silly look on his face now that he was away from the door.

"Oh yeah. So you warn me." The squat man said.

"Sure." I agreed.

"Anyway, she's down on the floor. Champion fight tonight. Long odds are four to one against the newcomer. Some quick little fuck." Barnie nodded, mostly to himself.

"Not here to bet."

"Nah? Well, everyone should have some playtime. Whatcha after? Girls? Drinks?" Barnie always did most of the talking. Both were focused on the screen blaring out cheesy lines.

"Collections." I stated.

"From the Boss? You ain't that stupid." Barnie said while Ted turned his bag of popcorn upside down. The large man grumbled. "If she doesn't kill you I'd have to. Fucking stupid."

"No." I told him about my latest job. The guy I was after frequented places like this and if tonight's fight was a champion bout then there was no other place he could be.

"Oh yeah. That guy. Fight night, yeah. Downstairs on the left. Prick’s prolly chasing titties." Barnie turned and threw a few kernels from the dregs of his bag at Ted. "Where's that twat with the checkered shirt? The one you had to drag out last week."

"Table four." Ted answered. The big guy never tore his eyes away from the television.

"See, told you. Downstairs on the right." I didn't correct Barnie. We weren't that friendly. "Table four. Listen, you keep it quiet alright, John?" Barnie smiled with no emotion. "Boss don't like disturbances, and I'm not in the mood for work tonight. I'm on fucking vacation."

"Fucking vacation." Ted echoed, still staring at the screen.

"Alright." I said. No arguments would come from me. Barnie was the type to bring a rocket launcher to a knife fight.

I started through the door towards the main rooms. The fights and more would be going on downstairs and there were things to do tonight.

"Oh and hey." Barnie said. I turned back to look at him. "Welcome back." The short man eked out a sliver of real feeling.

"Chasing titties." Ted mumbled. "John." He puffed out air then spoke one final line. "No stray hands."

I nodded and walked out of the back, past a restroom and break rooms. Extra paths were ignored and my feet traveled straight for the main floor. Stepping out in Bottom Pit proper brought back a rush of memories. One in particular.

The ladies of Bottoms Pit didn't wear a lot in the way of clothes, which was a very bad thing for a single and emotionally damaged man like myself. Of course this whole place was out of touch with my recent habits. It was like a smoker taking his first drag in weeks. I would call it like an alcoholic taking his first drink in years but I had no idea what that was like.

It was a good thing Ted had warned me. Each breath brought a heady rush of feelings. Hell. I wasn't angry right now. I was excited. I wanted to watch people beat each other senseless. I wanted to see blood splatter against the walls down below. Chasing down a piddly debt was secondary to having a good time. This was an excellent way to distract myself.

The wet sound of a fist colliding with flesh with incredible force rang throughout the room. Cheers followed. A giant metal cage housed two men pounding at each other. People in suits screamed at the sides, cheering and jeering in equal measures at those inside. Ladies who wore more on their heads than the rest of their bodies wove through the crowds. Liquor flowed from platters. Scenes like this would jumpstart anyone's pulse. It was hard to say which vice was more appealing; the violence, women, or drinks.

Why not all three?

I had only been single four weeks. Long enough to realize that life was going to continue on no matter what I felt. Too short to be serious about anything. Not that it stopped me from looking. I had practice in not being a sleaze ball about it. It was impossible to be effective if I would get distracted by every rack that jiggled by.

"John!" One of the large suited grunts waved over the heads of patrons and employees. He made his way through the crowd like a steamroller. Anyone in his way got pushed aside. "John, hell, man, been ages!" The grunt greeted me with a handshake. "Hasn't been the same since you left."

"Ain't that the truth." I smirked. Nothing had been the same since I left.

"My brothers said you'd passed by the front." He had the same disfigured teeth that the other three out front had. His words were hard to understand around the lisp. "Didn't believe it. Thought they were screwing with me. John! Fuck yes."

"Yeah, here on a job." We slowly made our way to a clear view of the fighting cage. This wasn't the main stage. Just a warmup. There was a cage, and then there was The Pit. I doubted that I would be around long enough to see those grounds in use.

"Yeah?" The grunt looked me up and down. It was awkward being sized up like that. "Not gonna jump in The Pit?"

"Hadn't planned on it." I answered.

"Damn. You want in, you tell me, there's a whole new crowd of suckers in here that don't understand how one sided the match would be. We give you a welcome home brawl, you'll love it." He grinned. His name wasn't coming back to me like Ted and Barnie’s had.

"Maybe later." I offered.

"Yeah, hey, I gotta keep doing rounds. You know how it is. I'll tell the rest of the family you're here, we'll catch up on old times." He placed a friendly hand on my shoulder. I nodded. He still had that broken smile as he waded through the crowd.

"Hey!" He shouted at someone in the distance.

It was nice to know that people remembered me. Better yet, they were willing to bet on me over their own fighters. My reputation was intact down here. Or maybe they just wanted to see me get my face beat in. I vaguely remembered the bouncers being semi sadistic. They didn't always care who was on the other end. Their love was for the fight.

Somewhere around here was my target. I didn't own anything of his. Had no pull to go off of. Tracking would have to be done the old fashioned way. Asking for directions. I stopped a waitress and managed to keep both eyes up top. There should be an award for that.

She made a disgusted face once I mentioned the table I was headed to. Table four was down the middle of the room, not left or right like Ted and Barnie had said. I took a drink from her platter and dropped down a twenty. The waitress, or showpiece, hard to tell which, went about her rounds. I'm not ashamed to admit I peeked as she walked away. A simple glance put a smile on my face.

I sat down quietly with drink in hand. The table was intended to seat three or four people, but everyone had crowded the front lines. There was a blissful few minutes of peace between me and the concoction.

Liquid was swilled down in a blur leaving me fidgety and worried. What if this was the wrong table? The wrong person? I riffled through the jacket that had been left behind. No money. No credit cards.

There was a Sector card that confirmed my location as correct. Steven Gates. Twenty five years old. His picture had a sheepish grin across it. Next to that was an employee badge that identified him as a computer tech that worked for EXI, whatever that meant. The logo wasn't very helpful.

Was he a computer geek? He probably spent all day staring at a monitor or electronic board things. No wonder the man spent time somewhere exciting. Too bad he decided to throw down money in the wrong places. I managed to shove his cards back into a pocket when the man himself showed up. His face started confused then smiled like everything was a joke.

"Awesome fight up there! Say you want to help me get closer to the front? I could slide in behind you. You look like a good battering ram." The man was fit, but just on the goofy side of good looking. Brown hair, brown eyes, probably full of shit half the time.

I didn’t have a quick response.

"No? That's cool. Hey keep the seat warm, I'm gonna grab another drink." Steven rushed off.

He seemed like an excitable idiot.

I scanned the crowd. There was no real hurry to complete our transaction. Steven either had enough to pay Julianne's back, or didn't. A few drinks and a good time wouldn't hurt him.

Besides, I was having fun. Whatever Bottom Pit put into that mixer I grabbed was strong. It brought everything firmly into fuzzy land. There were no news channels on here, there was no one talking about the latest high profile wedding. No, here the cameras were all on the fights.

Betting tickers scrolled along multiple walls. Odds on this fight and the next fight. Minimum bets and expected payouts for wins. None of tonight's fighters were house sponsored. Another part of the display told me there were twenty minutes until the big event. The current champion would go against an up and coming challenger from a few counties over.

Might be worth a glance. I doubt anyone would begrudge my wading up to the front to look in on the proceedings. I could hassle Steven when he came back then go about my night.

Only Steven didn't come back. With ten minutes left to the fight I started getting antsy. Had he ditched me? Unlikely since his stuff was here. I grabbed the jacket and used it as a link.

Dense. Air hard to move in. Heavy with yells. Exciting. Pulse pounds with the cheers. Remember. Yes. Past distracts me.

My head shook to get thoughts back in line. They kept trying to drift towards the cages and waitresses alternately. Attracted by different things for different reasons.

Find the Pink Meat. Cord connects to jacket. Goes somewhere up. Not far. Can wait. Want to watch the Gladiators.

The gathering of people made it extremely hard to focus on the cord that would connect Steven's jacket to the person. Drunk me tracked horribly. Normally I could follow the ethereal connection through the swirl of other sight and life energy onwards toward my destination. My submerged mind had other desires and vetoed this work assignment.

Getting out of the chair was more challenging than expected. Being two bottles under was starting to hit hard. There was another refill on my table. I didn't question my fortune and took it.

I staggered the straightest curve I could manage over towards The Pit. It felt so familiar. The Pit was a huge hole beneath two layers of metal grating that anyone could walk across. Forty feet down and fifty feet in diameter. The dugout floor was ringed by metal cages. Above that were two layers of alcoves that people could watch from. Spectators could also watch from the cameras. Metal shook as I walked across. There weren't many gathered and the early birds would grab the alcoves first.

Down below, around the walls of the ring, there were handprints indented into a clay like surface. Each one a champion. Immortalized, or as close as a fighter could get. There was a tournament held for the true champion yearly. The winner had to impress their hand into the wall without any aid. Only one human had ever won out of the multitude and his handprint was the lightest. The human had survived against intense odds and retired quietly after, broken but proud.

I wandered back to the table where another drink was waiting. Just as heavy on the liquor as the prior. The aftertaste was an exciting bite of sour apple that cleared my nostrils. The emotions I felt all night were growing more intense. Excitement and anger coursed through in equal measures. The hair on my arms stood up and a chill ran down my back. My shoulders rolled and neck cracked.

Steven still hadn't moved. His jacket was a terrible connection.

"Drinks good?" A large hand slapped me in the back. I turned and found myself looking up at two of the large bouncers. Clear differences stood out. Weavings in their hair, the way they stood. One was clearly in charge and he was talking to me.

"Yeah." I answered.

"Good. Good. It's better than the normal swill. Think of it as a welcome back. On the house." This security man had a controlled slur too.

"Thanks." My throat felt dry and itchy.

"Enjoying the view?" The leader asked.

My gaze was mildly distracted by one of the bare chested ladies walking by. She had an attractive lilt to her step. It took some effort not to flinch like I had been caught. These bouncers had heavily shaded glasses and might get away with looking.

"Yes." I said.

One of them swiveled his head and nodded to the waitress. She gave a tired smile and kept moving.

"Not the flesh." Both men smirked, almost Pack like in their unison but far more disturbing. Almost a filthy leer. "The Pit brother, the place where boys become men! Our own little proving grounds."

"Yeah. Brings back memories." I responded slowly, this place felt good, and foreign, and like a second home.

"I'll bet. You keep drinking. Enjoy yourself." He nodded.

"Sure." Emotions rolled over me like a surging tide. The shivery excitement was growing sharper. It ebbed and flowed over my whole body as the crowd cheered at the latest fist hitting someone.

The brothers turned away.

"Hey. Where did Steven go?" I held up his jacket. One of the bouncers turned back to me and looked at the article of clothing.

"He's upstairs having a heart to heart with Boss Lady."

"Does Steven owe her too?" I asked the bouncers.

"The weakling got too friendly with our women." The brother who had been doing all the talking had more braids in his hair. Knots woven down one side. It meant something. I mostly spoke to him and nearly ignoring the second bouncer.

"Not a good idea." The lesser bouncer said.

"While they're here, they're ours to care for. Unless he paid, which he hadn't." He didn't slur as much as the other brothers. His face also looked less broken but held a very protective expression. It wasn't lecherous, or slobbering, it was annoyed. These guys took their jobs very seriously. This was their house and no one was above the rules.

There were three posted above the main door. Three posted around The Pit. Simple words to live by.

‘Guests of Bottom Pit shall follow the rules. One, you are guests, not owners. Two, everything has a price, pay up front. Three, The Pit is the final arbiter of all arguments.’

Rule three was my favorite. I vaguely remembered trouncing a few uppity people when I worked here. There was at least one incident per week.

"Drink up, you're family here."

"If you insist." I grinned and laid back the liquid. It burned going down and left that same puckered aftertaste. "Will this woman be done with Steven soon?"

"None of my business.” The leader said.

"Maybe." The lesser one shrugged.

"Don't act like you know something when you don't." The one with more braids nearly snarled at the younger man. They shuffled back and forth. I noticed most of the crowd was avoiding us. "For you, John, we'll go ask. I'll take you to the boss, see if she'll let your prey loose."

"Doubt it. Clingy bitch." Muttered the second bouncer.

"Watch it." The more commanding one cuffed the other on the back of his head.

"What's in those drinks?" I asked.

"The Beast? What is that, your third? Fourth?"

"Fourth." Counting was getting difficult.

"You're going to be feeling it soon." The secondary bouncer looked happy. "We got room for him downstairs?" He asked.

"Hopefully." The one in charge had a sly happy grin to his face. Were they talking about putting me in The Pit? Why did everyone want to see that? "Those are hard to make, worth every moment. When it hits, you'll know, and it'll be a fight you'll need."

His finger pointed to my now empty drink. I mulled over the decision to go full on tipsy. Leaving Kahina had turned me from a usually peaceful drunk into a half sane powder keg. Luckily I stayed mostly sober no matter how hard I tried, at least until I quaffed this Beast stuff. It was definitely putting me through the paces.

My heartbeat had sped up. The world moved in a detached and almost slow sort of way. That suppressed presence in the back of my head was nearly purring in happiness. I wasn't sure how anyone could be so relaxed, angry, and excited at the same time.

Us three ventured forth and the crowd parted around us. A few were noisy and whispered questions at each other. Trying to figure out if I was being thrown out, or who I was to be escorted by two of the club's employees. We went past the bar, past the first set of stairs up, to the second set. The path wound up a floor, down a hallway, and into a room with grand double doors. They were dark things that chased away all but the bravest rays of light.

The first bouncer knocked briefly, then without waiting for a response he opened the door.

Inside was intense. I sucked in air and tried not to gasp in delight. Every time we took a step forward something glittered. Items shined. A reflection here, a beam of light there. It was like a disco ball, or what the inside of a diamond must be like. Central to it all was a simple desk with a lamp that spun out just enough to light up the room.

Behind the desk was a person. Behind her a nearly black sheet of glass that proved to be a one way window of sorts. It looked out over the crowd, much as the crowd might look over a match in The Pit. In the middle of the room, looking not the least bit sheepish, was Steven.

"What is so important that you need to interrupt me, Roy?" She said.

"John here wanted to see if you were done with Steven." The head bouncer’s words startled me. Either they were chummy enough that he could get away with talking like that, or Roy, the larger and more braided of the two bouncers, didn't care one bit what his boss thought.

"John?" She looked from the bouncer over to me.

The woman who responded was nothing like what I expected. It turned out the new boss was a redhead. Not like my friend Daniel. He was tanned, more auburn than red. This woman had hair like fire and freckles to match. Her complexion was straight from the isles. Thin, but not without muscle, wiry. I could almost see her spouting nonsense about lamb and potatoes.

"Yeah. John. He's family round here, from before you took over." Roy nodded.

"What, a Part timer? We have plenty of those, and none of them warrant my attention enough to barge in here."

"I can totally leave if you'd like." Steven said.

"Don't even try." The fiery woman lashed out with her words.

"You sure? Seems crowded in here. I can just..."

She looked at Steven. Her expression wasn't angry, worked up, or even sad. It was an emotionless mask. Almost as perfect as my ex girlfriend's. The only difference was in the bend of her jaw, the slightly tense look around her eyes, and her foot tapped slowly. My ex was composed, relaxed, and didn't have such an obvious tell.

“Right. I'll sit here."

"Look, fight's on soon. You should hit the floor." Roy said.

"I love how you assume my ignorance on what must be done." The boss turned one hand over in annoyance.

"I assume nothing. Steven's debts won't be cleared with one beating though." Roy said. I couldn't tell if he respected her or not. It seemed mixed.

"He owes her too?" I asked.

"Him? He owes everyone."

"Not everyone." Steven said.

There was a moment of silence in the room.

"The debt to me comes first." The woman said. Her name was still a mystery to me.

"How much?" I questioned. Steven only owed Julianne's a couple thousand. Nothing major, certainly not worth fighting over.

"Well over one hundred grand." She maintained a mostly still expression but those words felt tantalizingly warm.

Maybe it was just a side effect of being a woman in power. Maybe looking emotionless was her way of preventing being taken advantage of. Maybe she tried being friendly once and it backfired miserably. Too bad the vibration of fiery anger never left her tone.

"Have him work it off." I shrugged one shoulder and tried not to lose my happy drunken buzz.

"Mister Gates’ work ethics are sketchy at best." She said.

"We tried that. That's how he ended up owing some much in the first place." Roy added in some details. The second bouncer had wandered off while we were talking. Probably back downstairs.

"It was a perfectly safe script. Nothing would have been hurt." Steven shrunk.

"Your program wiped out our accounting for two days." The boss responded from behind the desk. It looked like she wanted to lift up the furniture and throw it at Steven. I prematurely mourned the loss of such polished looking objects.

"It would have been fine." Steven squirmed in his chair. Now the woman was glaring. Her lips drawn back in a nearly perfect angry snarl. I couldn't have done better myself. "If no one had..." He tried to sink further into his chair. "turned off the computer..."

"And where were you during this time?" The woman actually came out from behind her desk and leaned down in front of Steven. His eyes drifted in the wrong direction then he gulped.

"Noooo where." Steven fidgeted.

"I believe he was in a hotel, with one of the waitresses." Roy turned and looked at me. His face wasn't grumpy, if anything he was kind of amused. "And he tried to bill us for that time as hours worked."

"I was working. Hard."

"That's enough." I finally said. This was getting ridiculous and my brain wasn't focusing right. The night was difficult enough. I was definitely feeling the effects of whatever was in those drinks. Another part of me just wanted to bask in this room's dazzling glory.

"We're due downstairs." Roy said to the redhead. I just watched. Feeling more and more worked up. Angrier. A rush of cool shivers kept making its way up and down my spine much quicker than before.

"Very well.” She pushed Steven over and his chair clattered to the ground. “Gates, you poor excuse for a man, we'll be talking soon. And don't think I've forgotten where you live."

I didn't ask why she knew in the first place. Maybe she copied his card down or something. The man was kind of stupid to leave it in his jacket.

"And you, John, can get out of my office." She said.

I clenched my teeth and followed Steven towards the door. The real action would be downstairs one way or the other.

"See you soon, John." Roy gave a broken grin as I exited.