I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I slipped past him toward the curtains. I stopped just behind the black tarps. I turned to Samson with a thumbs up as I waited patiently for the announcers. When they called my name, the whole crowd went wild, this was it, this was what I lived for. I jogged out, the blinding lights and the deafening cheers resonating deep within me as I approached the ring, my focus narrowing as I tuned out the noise. The crowd’s cheers turned into a dull roar in the back of my mind, replaced by the rhythmic thud of my heartbeat.
Swiper. Most people didn’t know my real name, and I liked it that way. Out here, names don’t matter. What mattered was how fast you were, how hard you hit, and how much you could take before you hit the mat.
They called me Swiper because of my
