Chapter 14) Street Fights
Cael glanced over his shoulder for the tenth time in as many minutes.
"We can't go back home," he muttered. "They know where we live. If we set foot there, we're done."
Vey didn't argue. His jaw was tight, eyes scanning the street ahead.
"Then we need shelter. Tonight."
"Yeah. And food, " Cael started.
Vey cut him off with a short shake of his head. "Food's not the problem. We've got the system, remember? Worst case, we grind for a day and get enough to keep us alive for a week. What we need is a roof and a way to get noticed by Crimson Fang."
Cael's eyes narrowed, thinking. "Then we go where they pull their recruits from."
"And where's that?"
"Street fights. Back-alley matches no one talks about in daylight. I've heard a bunch of them are unofficial feeders for Crimson Fang, they watch, pick out the toughest dogs, and pull them in as runners or muscle."
Vey's lips curled into a thin grin. "So, we just walk into one of those fights?"
"We don't just walk in, we watch first. See who's running it. See who's betting. If it smells like Fang business, then we make our move."
They turned down a narrower road, the glow of neon signs fading until only the pale flicker of a single streetlamp lit the cracked pavement. Somewhere ahead, the muffled roar of a crowd rolled through the air, followed by the sharp thud of fists on flesh.
Vey tilted his head toward the sound. "Guess we found our place."
---
Cael slowed his pace just before the bend in the alley, where the noise was coming from.
"Listen," he said quietly, "if this is Crimson Fang territory, we play the pups. Obedient, quiet, no posturing. They need to want to notice us."
Vey frowned. "You think they'd actually recruit here?"
"Almost never," Cael admitted. "Recruitment from street fights happens maybe once in a dozen events, and only if they see someone worth it. Right now, our main goal is to observe, watch the crowd, the organizers, the way the bets move. If we get the chance, we step into a match and make them remember us. But we don't force it."
Vey smirked faintly. "So basically, we keep our heads down, but make sure they get a good look when it counts."
"Exactly," Cael said. "One wrong move and we'll be bleeding in some gutter before the night's over."
They moved forward, the sound swelling, shouts, jeers, and the wet, brutal smack of fists landing on flesh. The narrow street opened into a wide, shadow-choked courtyard, lit only by strings of cheap yellow bulbs and the red haze of burning barrels.
A thick crowd pressed in around a makeshift fighting ring marked by scuffed chalk lines. Men and women in tattered coats or bare arms were shouting, waving bills and coins in the air, some laughing, others snarling at the fights. The smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke hung heavy, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood.
In the center, two fighters circled each other, one tall and wiry, the other stocky and fast, every punch greeted by a roar from the crowd. The perimeter was patrolled by men with hard eyes and heavier jackets, hands always near the bulges under their coats.
Vey's eyes flicked to Cael. "Looks like we found our den."
Cael gave a small nod, keeping his expression neutral. "Now let's see if the wolves are watching."
---
They slipped into the crowd, letting the noise swallow them. All around, voices rose in ragged chants,
"Hit him! Come on! Tear him apart!"
Money changed hands in quick flashes, crumpled bills, heavy coins, passed between spectators with greedy grins. The ring in the center was a blur of fists and sweat, but Cael wasn't watching the fight. His eyes kept sliding over the faces at the edge of the crowd, searching for the telltale signs.
Vey was doing the same, scanning the shadows behind the spectators, noting who wasn't cheering, who was just watching.
A few minutes passed before Cael's gaze caught on a man leaning against a brick wall near the far corner. His coat was black leather, plain but worn just enough to hide a faint crimson stitching at the collar, a stylized fang pattern that you'd miss unless you knew exactly what to look for. Two others stood near him, both with the same mark worked into their gloves.
Cael's heartbeat quickened. He leaned toward Vey.
"That's them," he said, voice low. "Crimson Fang. No doubt."
Vey's eyes followed his nod, and the moment he spotted the marks, his expression hardened. "So what now?"
"We fight," Cael replied without hesitation.
Vey shot him a look. "You said only if it was necessary."
Cael's mouth twisted into a thin, determined smile. "I thought the atmosphere here would be different. But this, this is exactly the moment we've been waiting for. If we don't get in now, we'll just be background noise."
Without another word, they began moving through the crowd toward the makeshift table where a heavyset man with a ledger was taking names.
"You boys here to watch or to bleed?" the man grunted without looking up.
"To fight," Cael answered.
The man scribbled something down, jerked his chin toward a side alley where other fighters waited, and muttered, "Get in line. Your turn'll come soon enough."
Vey exchanged a quick glance with Cael.
"Guess we're about to find out if they're watching," he said.
---
Vey frowned, still trying to read Cael's sudden shift in mood.
"Why'd you decide so fast? You said it was nearly impossible to get this kind of luck, to spot someone like that here."
Cael's eyes stayed on the man with the crimson-stitched collar. "It is. The insignia of The Crimson Fang isn't something you just hand out to every rookie. That guy isn't some street pup, he's someone with weight in the gang. Maybe not high council, but someone respected."
"You don't know that," Vey countered.
Cael finally glanced at him and gave a quick shrug. "Yeah, I don't. But I believe it. And people like him won't stick around long. So we need to make our move now before the chance is gone."
The minutes dragged by as one bloody fight after another played out in the ring. The crowd's shouts rose and fell like waves crashing against stone. By the time their names were called, Vey felt his pulse in his throat.
They reached the edge of the ring, but a man with arms like tree trunks stepped in their path. "Only one at a time," he grunted.
Cael looked at Vey without hesitation. "It's me. I signed up, so you stay here."
Vey smirked faintly. "Fine. Go get 'em. And try not to embarrass yourself."
Cael grinned back. "Watch closely. You're about to see my skills for real."
Before stepping forward, Cael glanced at the man guarding the ring. "Can we use… you know… magic?"
The man's face broke into a slow, mocking grin. "What are you, an idiot?"
Cael blinked. "...What?"
"Use whatever you want, kid, unless you want to die."
Cael exhaled, rolled his shoulders, and stepped into the ring. The noise of the crowd closed around him like a living thing.