Rock Bottom

By the time Maya regained consciousness, the crowds had dispersed, leaving behind only the stale scent of cigarettes and sweat. The underground arena's usual electric atmosphere had faded into an oppressive silence. She slowly sat up from where she was laying, wincing as pain shot through her body like shards of glass. Now, she finally understood why Gummy hated her so much – this was exactly how Maya had always left her opponents: broken and battered. Every breath felt like fire in her lungs, and she could taste copper on her split lip. Her face, usually described as beautiful, must look like a battlefield of bruises and cuts.

She managed to gather her battered body up, the cool concrete floor beneath her palms as she pushed herself to standing. Her eyes searched for Vicky, but her so-called friend was nowhere to be found.

"Fucking backstabber," Maya hissed through clenched teeth, clutching her side as she limped toward the locker room. "Just don't fucking let me see you with my eyes." The metallic taste of blood in her mouth made her words taste bitter.

Vicky had made sure to disappear before Maya woke up, no doubt to avoid her wrath.

After changing into her normal clothes – a black hoodie with black ripped jeans and black boots – she loosened her hair and retied it properly, wincing as her fingers brushed against tender spots on her scalp. The familiar motions felt foreign with her trembling hands.

The walk to her boss's office seemed longer than usual, each step sending jolts of pain through her body. When she arrived, she found Blanco's eyes blazing with anger, the usual warm welcome replaced by a tension so thick it felt suffocating. Unlike the usual times when he would shower her with praise before handing over her pay, today the atmosphere crackled with barely contained rage.

Maya studied the man's dark expression and sighed. Though he surely sensed her presence, he refused to acknowledge it. The silent treatment cut deeper than she expected – she had become nothing more than a disappointment, a pest in his eyes.

"Mr. Blanco, I-I'm sorry," Maya bit her inner lip before apologizing, tasting fresh blood.

"Who was it? Who had the audacity to spike your drink in my turf?" Blanco asked, finally meeting her gaze with eyes that could freeze hell.

Maya bit her lip but remained quiet. The truth about Vicky's betrayal sat heavy on her tongue, but she swallowed it back. Despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to sign her former friend's death warrant – she knew Blanco would ensure Vicky never drew another breath if he discovered her role in tonight's disaster.

Gummy had known Maya trusted Vicky implicitly, and she'd exploited that trust perfectly. But what Maya couldn't understand was how Gummy had managed to buy Vicky's loyalty.

"I have always told you to be careful, Maya Miller." Blanco's voice boomed against the office walls, causing Maya to shudder and lower her gaze. "You're supposed to be vigilant, knowing your status here. But no, you wouldn't listen. You prefer parading around like you have nine lives. You're lucky they didn't poison you."

Maya flinched at his words. Vicky wouldn't have gone that far... would she? The memory of Vicky's tears before the match suddenly took on a darker meaning.

A tiny flutter of warmth touched Maya's heart at the hint of concern in the old man's voice. However, her delusion was quickly shattered by his next words.

"Do you know how much you made me lose tonight?" Blanco asked, his voice as cold as a morgue.

"Hmm..." Maya couldn't help but sigh. Why had she expected anything different? To Blanco, she was nothing more than a walking ATM, an object for profit.

"I will see you around in six months' time, Mr. Blanco." Maya stated flatly, too drained to care anymore. She had enough on her plate without worrying about this old money-grubber who called himself her boss. Her sister's life hung in the balance – that was what truly mattered.

"And where are you going?" Blanco hissed as she turned to leave.

"To go gather my shit together, Blanco. Six months of training and resting isn't such a bad idea." Maya didn't bother stopping as she walked away, each step echoing with finality.

---

"Hahahaha... ahh!" Maya's bitter laugh ended in a sharp wince. She'd momentarily forgotten about her split lip and the constellation of bruises painting her body.

Instead of heading home, she'd chosen to drown her sorrows at her favorite bar. The familiar smell of stale beer and worn leather seats wrapped around her like a comfort blanket as she sat alone, talking and laughing with herself. Her laughter, though, was hollow – filled with pain, disgust, and despair.

The thought of her father, who ran a small mechanic workshop mostly to fund his drinking habits, her mother, who worked herself to exhaustion as a hotel cleaner, and her sick sister lying in a hospital bed – it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. And now, the one person who had always been her rock had betrayed her in the most brutal way.

What kind of life was this?

Taking another sip of her beer, the bitter liquid matching her mood, Maya sighed in regret. If she'd known about the spiked drink, she never would have accepted the second part of the deal – staying away from fights for six months. Not only had she lost tonight's fight, but she'd also lost her means of earning money for her sister's medical bills.

She had unknowingly gambled with her sister's life.

"I'm just a fucking loser," Maya muttered, her voice thick with emotion. She blinked rapidly as tears formed, but her usual strength failed her. No, she wasn't supposed to be weak or dramatic – so why were the tears coming?

But they wouldn't stop, blurring her vision until she finally let them fall freely. Even the toughest person would break after a day like this. The betrayal from Vicky twisted in her chest like a knife, sending fresh tears down her cheeks.

She had tried calling Vicky countless times, but each ring went unanswered. After one final attempt, Maya gave up.

And then...

"I am a loser!" The whole bar turned as Maya's voice rose in a sudden, discordant song. She stood up, using her beer bottle as an impromptu instrument, tapping out a rhythm that only made sense in her alcohol-addled mind.

To the other patrons, her voice was hoarse and confused, like a piano with broken strings – pure noise pollution. They threw her strange looks, some pitying, others annoyed.

Finally, Maya collapsed back into her seat with a heavy sigh. She should be at her sister's bedside right now, celebrating another victory. Instead, here she was in a dingy bar, doing what? She loved this tiny establishment because it had always been her sanctuary – a place that seemed to listen to her worries. She had countless memories here, many with Vicky. Maya wished the bar would stay forever, but looking at the crumbling building, she knew the owner would probably sell it soon.

Should I just buy this place and renovate it? The absurd thought was enough to remind her it was time to leave. How could someone as broke as she was, with a sick sister's medical bills to pay, even think about buying property?

"It's time to go home, before I hallucinate further," she muttered, standing on unsteady legs. After settling her tab, she staggered out into the night.

The late hour didn't usually bother Maya. As both a boxer and fighter, she'd always felt capable of handling herself. In her mind, she could take on any threat. Anyone foolish enough to try hurting her would end up regretting it.

However, this night was different.

As she turned down a narrow alley, she stumbled upon a scene that made her blood run cold. Her heart thundered in her chest as she tried to remain silent. Through the shadows, she could make out five men in black suits engaged in a violent struggle. Four of them were ganging up on one, and the metallic glint of guns in their hands made her breath catch in her throat.

These weren't ordinary street thugs.

She felt momentarily grateful they hadn't noticed her yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She was standing in plain sight with nowhere to hide.

While Maya was still calculating her escape route, one of the men grabbed for a gun. As the others wrestled for control of the weapon, a sharp crack split the night. The man who had grabbed the gun, the one who had been getting beaten, slowly crumpled to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.

"Ahh..." she gasped, immediately clamping her hands over her mouth. But it was too late – her small sound might as well have been a thunderclap in the quiet alley.

Four heads snapped toward her position, their eyes reflecting the dim streetlight like predators in the dark.

"Hmm..." Maya chuckled awkwardly, her heart trying to pound its way out of her chest. The men remained silent, watching her with confusion and deadly intent.

The gravity of the situation hit her like a punch to the gut, and the nervous smile fell from her face.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, please continue with what you're doing. I didn't see or hear anything at all. In fact, my eyes don't work well at night, and my ears are partially deaf, so I couldn't even make out what that sound was."

"I-I don't think that was the best or coolest answer, but please work with it because I'm leaving. Bye!" The words tumbled out in a panicked rush before she turned and ran for her life. Maya could handle almost anything, but guns were definitely not on that list.

And they gave chase...