Fight Night [Almaz]

[Ezekiel]

She took the bait like a perfect little kitten. Her response was surprisingly serious, as though she might imagine he’d joke about such an offer. But Zeke never did. Whatever his true motivations, and however he got his kicks, he did generally keep his word when he gave it. That was how he built his reputation. A promise from the undercity’s angel was akin to a miracle, and coveted just as keenly amongst the gutter rats Zeke called family. Favours built webs that all led back to him. He liked to keep people beholden. Smitten with his generosity. At least when they were good to him in turn.

He held her gaze. Zeke’s eyes were always warm and sincere, and it had always been an asset.

There were huge amounts of money in these fights. Not for those in the ring, unless they were self-managed (and good at it). But most of the latter did it for the blood and prestige, not the wealth. In the main it was the sponsors who were the ones who raked it in – both when their fighters did well, and sometimes when they didn’t. It all looked fair on the surface, but Almaz was about entertainment.

“I’m saying I’ll do one better,” he said. “I’ll sponsor you in. Three fights to prove yourself, and then we’ll see where we’re at.”

He’d already told her it would be a debt, and wouldn’t mention that again unless she thought to ask for specifics. Zeke would speak to his contacts, pull the strings and pay the fees, but she would have to rise to the occasion if she really wanted this. And if she didn’t want to disappoint him.