Blood and Silver

A Howl in the Dark

The basement stinks of sweat, blood, and cheap beer. A makeshift ring is taped off in the center, surrounded by a crowd hungry for action. I don’t do this for the money—not really. There’s something about the fight, the raw power, the way my instincts sharpen. It makes me feel alive in a way nothing else does.

My opponent is taller, broader, cocky. He underestimates me immediately, and that’s his first mistake. The bell rings, and I move. I’m fast—faster than I should be. It’s always been that way, though I’ve never questioned it. I duck, weave, and then strike, my fist connecting with his ribs hard enough to make him stagger.

He recovers and his first punch grazed my jaw, sharp enough to sting, but I shook it off. The underground fights weren’t just about strength; they were about control, endurance, knowing when to strike and when to let your opponent wear themselves down.

I danced around my opponent, dodging his blows while studying his movements. He was fast, but reckless. One mistake was all I needed.

A feint to the left. A quick pivot. My fist slammed into his ribs again, knocking the air from his lungs. The crowd roared, a wall of sound vibrating through my bones. I didn’t hesitate. I followed up with another hit—sharp, decisive.

The fight ends quicker than expected. He hits the mat, groaning, and the crowd erupts. I barely hear them, my pulse thrumming in my ears. For a moment, I catch my reflection in the metal pole at the edge of the ring. My eyes are darker than their usual brown, wild, something primal lurking just beneath the surface.

"Winner: Voss!" the announcer bellowed, and hands clapped my back as I stepped out of the ring. My knuckles were bruised, my body sore, but there was a sick satisfaction curling in my gut.

Nate was waiting for me near the exit, arms crossed. "You know one of these days, you’re gonna take a hit you can’t walk away from."

"Not today," I said, wiping sweat from my brow.

He handed me a water bottle, his expression unreadable. "You ever think about why you fight like this? It’s not just for the money."

I exhaled slowly, leaning against the cold concrete wall. He wasn’t wrong. There was something inside me, something restless, something always pushing me toward the edge.

"No idea," I lied.

He didn’t press, just gave me a knowing look before turning away.

By the time I started to head home, exhaustion settled deep in my bones. My body ached, my mind raced, and I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy. Something about tonight—about the way I moved, the way my body recovered too quickly—lingered in my thoughts.

But I shoved it down. It was just another fight. Just another night.

I had no idea everything was about to change.