Demons of Abyss - Retribution

Chapter 8

Elea

After changing my appearance, Kilian whisked me outside and took me to an old warehouse in his car, which he got yesterday. There are a handful of cars in the gravel parking lot, none of which I could afford. A little queasy, I get out and follow Kilian. We head for a blue steel door, which is opened by a pumped-up guy who then approaches us. When he catches sight of Kilian, one corner of his mouth goes up. "Well, well, if it isn't the big bad wolf."

Judging by the tone of his voice, he's not really sympathetic to Kilian. Kilian's face remains expressionless as he marches past him, a dismissive "Ash" crossing his lips. This Ash wants to say something else, but Kilian doesn't seem to care. He opens the door and disappears into the darkness. I follow him, ignoring the words he calls after us, "What's that b***h doing here?" I would like to get angry about this, but there would be no point anyway. Joe once told me that in some moments it's better to be quiet on the outside. If you engage in provocation, your opponent already has you in the palm of his hand. I guess that didn't work yesterday. I shake off the encounter with Ash and follow Kilian through a dark hallway with some posters and photos stuck to the walls. I can't make out much because of the low light, except that some of the pictures show fighters. Voices can be heard from anywhere. A few feet further, as we enter a hall, I see the source of the noises. Three men are fighting each other. More precisely, one against two. They are fighting just like me, without gloves or protection. Then I notice another guy standing against the wall, giving instructions to the man in the middle. And suddenly I feel a bit at home. Bear has been working out with me as well. It was my purpose in life. I hear the voice of the man who looks barely older than me. His black hair is cropped into a Mohawk and his broad shoulders are clearly visible under his gray shirt. He calls out some more instructions to the others before his gaze falls on us. When he looks at me, he frowns, as if he needs to make sure I'm actually here. Then his gaze falls on Kilian and a smirk plays around his thin lips. He pushes himself off the wall and comes toward us. Or rather towards Kilian. He lets his gaze wander from his shoes to his eyes.

"Looking good, Wolf."

"And you look the same, Vic."

I hear a smile in Kilian's voice and the two greet each other with a brief manly hug. Vic brings a "Good to see you" over his lips, which Kilian only returns with an approving hum. I, on the other hand, am still a little confused about Kilian's name, the name I've heard from two people now: Wolf. As I ponder this name, Vic approaches me. He surveys me as well as Kilian, and an appreciative smile settles on his lips.

"Sorry, Wolf, but your girlfriend is better looking than you."

My cheeks burn as he winks and grins at me. Not that it makes me uncomfortable, but I'm still not used to being told things like that. I clear my throat and bring a soft "hello" to my lips. He holds out his hand to me and, after a moment's hesitation, I take it. He eyes me with interest, which makes me even more nervous.

"I'm Vic."

"E...Alex. My name is Alex."

Damn. I totally messed up. Kilian and I went over it several times. He told me not to tell anyone my real name. That would make me vulnerable, and I don't want that. I also don't want my name to be tarnished. The name I received from my parents. So I use the name that is also on my fake ID.

"Alex, nice to meet you."

If he registered my mistake, he does not noticeable. He turns back to Kilian, who is impatiently shifting from one foot to the other.

"We want to train."

Vic motions for us, to come with him with a nod. He leads us to the back of the hall, where some training tools are lying around and hanging on the walls. Glancing at the large punching bag dangling from the ceiling, repaired with duct tape, I am involuntarily reminded of the training room at home.

"It's all here and if you need anything, just let me know. Make yourselves at home and don't let the other morons bother you."

His eyes drift to the three guys who have stopped their training and are watching us. I feel uncomfortable being stared at like this.

"Hey, p*****s, you're supposed to be working out, not staring, it'll cost you another round."

I flinch as Vic's loud voice rings out. The friendliness is gone, and he leaves us to heading towards the guys who let out an annoyed groan. Kilian walks up to me and tells me to get on the mat. I drop my bag on the concrete floor. He hands me open-fingered boxing gloves, but I shake my head in denial.

"I don't need gloves."

"You need gloves and so do I. I don't want either of us to be laid up in the next few days because of some injury. We don't need that right now. But we need the training."

A crease appears between his eyebrows and I know he wouldn't stand for any reply. So, snorting, I reach for the gloves.

A few minutes later, I feel the old familiar pain as I take the first punch. I dodge, but he's more ruthless than usual this time. Harder than usual. More desperate than usual. So I do my best, too. I counter his attacks. Trying to memorize his words. Try to concentrate. Trying to sink into the fight, as in my rage. I welcome everything. Everything that makes me harder.

At some point, I have lost track of time, I hear a loud whistle. It pulls me and also Kilian out of our fight. Dazed, I look to Vic, who is now standing next to me, staring at Kilian and me in disbelief. He shakes his head and comes closer. Sweat drips from my forehead and I wipe it from my eyes with my shirt, which is also soaked in sweat.

"In case you didn't get it, this is a training hall, not an underground gym. Come with me! Both of you!"

There's harshness in his voice, but I also detect a tiny smirk on his lips as he gestures us toward an adjacent room. The men have disappeared, and the hall is empty. My left leg stings and so does my shoulder, as well as my ribs. My cheek burns and I taste blood in my mouth. So much to none injuries.

Once inside the room, which I guess serves as some sort of office, Vic drops into the chair behind the gray desk that takes up almost half the room. On the walls, as in the hallway, hang dozens of posters and photos. In some of them, I can make out a bloody young version of Vic. He looks barely older than eighteen in these pictures. A clearing of my throat makes me look up and stare into Vic's eyes, which have been watching me closely and in which there is now a hint of mistrust.

"If there's anything sick going on here, I want to know about it. I don't like to destroy, what I've built over the years, by your stupidity. So what's going on?"

Now Kilian is standing in front of Vic, staring at him with that coldness in his eyes that he also gave me earlier. He, too, has a small bruise on his chin where I caught him with my leg earlier.

"It's nothing I can't control, Vic."

"Hell, she fights better than one of my fighters. Don't take me for a fool, Wolf. You're training for something. So enlighten me, and maybe I'll let you guys keep training."

"Then I guess we'll just have to find someplace elsewhere."

They look at each other challengingly. This staring goes on for a few seconds and I feel increasingly uncomfortable. Until a hissed "Damn it!" passes Vic's lips, and he stands up, walks around the desk, and stops in front of Kilian.

"I don't want to get involved in any s**t. I'm clean, damn it."

"Nobody knows we're here. No one's going to hurt you or destroy what you've built."

Kilian's icy expression disappears and compassion settles on his features. They nod to each other. Vic leans against the desk and clasps his hands. I have to swallow as Vic focuses on me, because there's a darkness in his gray eyes right now that sends goosebumps down my body. Then he looks back to Kilian and clears his throat.

"Consider it the favor, I still owe you."

He extends his hand to Vic, and I save the question about the favor. It's their business. I'm just happy to have a place to train.

"Regardless, training is over for the day."

Vic gives us a nod in the direction of the door to indicate that it's time to leave. So, Kilian and I say our goodbyes. We grab our bags before making our way to his car. As the blue steel door slams shut behind me, my shoulders relax.

"You did good today, but you need to focus more on what your counterpart sees. You need to confuse your counterpart. When you go for a kick with your right foot, you tense your jaw. You've got to get rid of that habit somehow. Anyone who sees you fight for more than two minutes knows how you're going to attack."

The coldness in Kilian's voice disappeared again.

"I've never noticed that before."

The doubt inside me gnaws at my self-confidence. But that's exactly what I wanted. I wanted someone who didn't favor me. Who doesn't treat me like a fragile doll. I want to fight. I want revenge. And maybe there's a tiny little thought of an afterlife. That thought scares me. Because, what if I survive it? I have no idea how to imagine that. Because, to be honest, I don't want to think about it. I will be prepared to die. I don't have to plan anything for my future, I don't want to have hope, which gets dashed anyway. I just have to be me. Just fight. Just get my revenge. Just die. Because dying is so much easier than living.