split-knuckle smile | [ele]
Jun 5, 2024 20:45:06 GMT -5
Post by dars on Jun 5, 2024 20:45:06 GMT -5
![](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/fa/98/4e/fa984e97adaf5f51a5dbf0dbb5ce9fbd.jpg)
M O N T Y
Most of the crowd was made up of twenty-somethings: ex-careers raging because they wussed out of volunteering when they still could, prodigal fighters who now barely made enough to keep the lights on in their crummy studio apartments by coaching at some second-rate academy. There were a couple exceptions- some older gentlemen desperate to prove they could hang, a few particularly brave- and stupid- teens trying to prove the same. The air was hot with the sweat them all, raucously applauding, eagerly awaiting their turn in the ring in the center of the room.
Monty stood on the fringes of the room near the one and only exit, where he liked to stay, safely hidden beneath his mask. The chains his parents used to lock the place up come sunrise were sitting at a pile right at his feet and his shoulder was starting to ache from leaning on it against the wall. He watched in discomfort, wincing each and every time a punch caused a head to snap back at a particularly-terrible angle. Idiots, the lot of them, so far as Monty was concerned. His gaze shifted to his parents, watching from behind their table as the events of the evening unfolded around them. His mother laughed when the girl fighting kicked her opponent in the side of his face, his father nodded and raised his hands as if impressed. The lot of them, Monty thought again.
Madeline laughed, standing next to him. She unstrapped her gloves and slid them off her bruised fingers. There was still a smear of blood on her cheek: evidence of her own fight earlier in the night. "This guy sucks. I bet I could go again and do a better job than him."
"You should be glad that one hit didn't break your nose," he taunted. She shoved at his shoulder and flipped him off. "Better than you, dickface. At least I'm not too scared to fight in the first place."
She let her hand linger in the air as she smiled humorlessly and stalked in the opposite direction. He was grateful for the mask, hiding the tension in his jaw. He made his way back to the entry table and haphazardly plopped himself into a seat on the other side of it. Some day, he allowed himself to think in his mind, where it was at least safe part of the time to do so. He didn't dare go any further than that, but it was enough. Some day. There would be something else. He would be somewhere else.
Some day.
The door opened and a vaguely familiar face from school ducked inside, familiarly walking over to pay his fee like a good little regular member. A lot of them couldn't hack more than a visit or two before they took a beating harder than they'd anticipated for themselves, especially the ones who were around their age. And every single time Monty saw the boy show up, he wondered if it would be the last. Part of him hoped so. He wore a mask here for a reason; Montague Severan was the squeaky clean distraction from all of this- the outstanding grades, the precision career training, the plastic little league trophies, and the advanced placements in school. A shiny trinket for his parents to dangle for the wolves when they came sniffing around. He had nothing to do with what was going on here, so far as anyone knew. And that's the way he wanted it to stay.
"You're late," he said in a low voice, "They already drew brackets. It's twenty extra to slot yourself in somewhere now. Ten if you got your bracelet."