Place: Parking Lot of The Cage
Who: @milvimurray
Matthew always tried to be careful leaving The Cage after work because every so often someone mad and drunk tried to take a swing at him, imparting the blame on him for the losses they had incurred as if it was his fault they bet on the wrong fighter but at the end of the night he was the one pocketing their cash and frankly that didnât sit well with some people. A few precautions he took was to never walk out of The Cage with the money he earned on the same night. He kept it in the safe, locked up until the next morning when all the drunks were too hungover to leave whatever warm comfortable place they found themselves in so it was safer and smarter for him to retrieve the money then and then deposit it rather than take it home immediately. They didnât know that though. So this night as Matthew walked toward his car parked in the lot, someone was waiting for him.Â
âWhereâs my money, bitch?â The man shouted, voice slurred and posture unsteady. Matthew already knew what was going to happen, the man would swing at him, Matthew would dodge it, his past years as a fighter in the very same cage gave him an edge over the drunken witch so he had every confidence in himself as he approached the other male with a threatening glare, âYou really want to do this?â
There seemed to be a slight moment of hesitance as the drunken man swayed backward but the step he took forward to steady himself all but seemed to solidify his next action, he swung, just as Matthew had predicted, and the human grabbed him by the wrist and promptly twisted the drunkâs arm behind his back, eliciting a sharp grunt to escape him as he cried out something in a different language. Matthew looked at him confused and perhaps if he had been some other species he would have been able to react fast enough to avoid the surprise hit from behind him but he wasnât and glass shattered around his head like crystal rain. He swore and felt two pairs of hands grab at him, pulling him off of the drunken witch. He drove into his heels, twisted his body, loosened one arm and swung, hitting someone just below the ribs, someone swept at his ankles and knocked him off his feet so his weight fell into the arms of one of his mysterious attackers and the wind knocked out of his lungs from a repeated hit to his abdomen. What a fucking bitch ass move. âThree against one? You fucking ââ his words interrupted by a fist and blossom of radiating pain. He felt searching hands reach into his pockets, heard the clatter of his keys against the concrete and slurred speech as they turned his pockets inside out looking for some giant wad of cash that he wasnât carrying.Â
âWhereâs my money!â The angered voice shouted at him again, fists gripped at his shirt and Matthew responded by spitting blood into the face of one of his attackers followed by a headbutt that cracked against hard bone and broke a nose. The drunk man sputtered and wheeled backward with his face contorted in pain. Using all his weight, Matthew pushed against one of the bodies still holding onto him until he knocked him against the side of his car and with now freed hands, directed a good hard punch to the liver and pulled the man backward so he fell to the ground. Matthew whirled around with his fists raised, ready to have a go at the next person to come at him but luckily they seemed to be scrambling after realizing he had no money on him.