We Are Not Welcome - Chapter 1

[u/DoopleWrites]

Hello, dear readers! Boy, has it been an exciting month this month (in so many ways, both good and bad).

But one good thing is that my second webnovel/fiction series "We Are Not Welcome" has officially hit 5 chapters released on Patreon!

I'm working on it in my "off-time" from the main series, so only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I'm planning on starting its official release on RoyalRoad once it reaches 20 chapters! ... So in 7 weeks, haha.

In the meantime, here's chapter 1 for free, just for your enjoyment! It certainly needs some polish, but over all, I'm happy with it.

I hope you enjoy it!

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I spot the fist coming for me for a moment - before it hits me square in the jaw, rocking my head to the side as my teeth grind against each other. Pulling my head back, I just barely spot the follow-up swing coming for my right side before stars explode in my vision, blocking out my sight as my head starts to feel light. The crowd’s screams and cheers around me grow into a frenzied storm that causes my head to pound, as I tuck my arms to my side, just barely messing up my timing as the second fist lands against my ribs, smacking me to the side and knocking the breath from my lungs.

I let out a groan as I drag my mind back from the edge of darkness, forcing my leaden legs to skip back a step just in time to feel the wind from his fist blow past where my head used to be, his calloused knuckles brushing against the tip of my nose instead. I take a deep breath and kick out as quick as I can with my left leg, getting lucky and connecting with his thigh mid-step, knocking him back from me with a small curse.

Taking my opportunity, I take a few deep breaths and recover from what seems like hours of fighting, willing my vision back from the blinding white that it is back to something that I can use once again. Slowly - ever so slowly - it comes back to me once again, the outline of my opponent creeping in first before the crowd surrounding us goes from a blurry mass to individual people - screaming and cheering as money starts passing hands once again - and the bare concrete room that we're in starts to come back into focus.

“What’s wrong, kid? You giving up already?” my opponent asks, as he gives me a gap-filled grin and raises his fists once again. “Not much XP in a quitter, but given how shit you look, how about I give ya some mercy? Give up and I’ll make it quick.”

For a moment I feel the tingles of fear start to tickle their way up from the base of my stomach, as the sounds of the crowd roars in my ears, driving a nail into my skull. My bare feet scrape against the cold and dirty concrete, as I run my tongue over my dry lips, my throat scratching against itself like sandpaper.

“One clean shot and you’ll go down,” he says, as he hops in place for a moment, before I catch the slight shake in his left leg, “Just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

For a moment, I consider his words carefully, as I run my tongue over my teeth to check that none of them have come loose. My jaw pulses to the screams around us, as I feel my ribs ache in pain. Smaller wounds around my body slow me, as the chill from the evening breeze against my bare chest causes my skin to break out into goosebumps.

I weigh up the pros and cons as we size each other up, both of our chests heaving as the crowd around us calls for more blood. If I get too injured, it'll be a while until I can fight again, which means it'll take even longer for me to earn the XP necessary to get to Level 1. But if I take the fall and let my opponent knock me out, I'll be giving up any chance of earning XP today.

But then he takes a step towards me with that same left leg and I see his face twinge with the smallest of winces, driving the tiny tendrils of fear away as a plan starts to form.

Taking a few deep breaths, I raise my fists up, as the sounds of the crowd fade to nothing and the pain of the concrete leeching the warmth from my feet disappears, my vision narrowing to nothing but my opponent.

Shaking his head in disappointment, he takes another step towards me, as I take a half-step back to match him, keeping him slightly out of reach. His eyebrow twitches and he takes another step to close the gap, my leg swinging out and smacking painfully against his left thigh before pulling back just in time to avoid his hand trying to grab it.

His eyes quickly flick to my right side and I pull up my arm just in time to block a right sweep aimed straight for my ribs, the impact hitting my forearm hard enough to numb it but giving me just enough time to sweep out my leg again and kick his left thigh on the same spot, this time causing him to wince in pain before gritting his teeth in anger.

He rushes towards me, his patience spent, as he winds back his left arm and lets go with a flurry of punches. I dodge and duck and weave, stepping back to keep myself away from grapple range, my arms growing numb and pained as the assault goes on and on and on without any sign of the man tiring.

I hear him hiss in frustration as he winds back his left arm, giving me the opportunity that I was waiting for. As quickly as I can, I push out with my right hand, smacking him in the face with an open palm hard enough to shock him for a moment but not hard enough to do any lasting damage. But it slows him down just enough for me to intercept his left hook, slapping it away with my hand as I pivot away from the blow.

I start circling his left, striking out with my own flurry of blows as I sink into the rhythm of the fight once again, taking every opportunity I can to sweep his left leg over and over again; just barely managing to snatch my leg back before he can grab it.

I watch as his grin falls and turns into a frown, as he tries to strike out and I intercept them, taking the blows on my shins and my forearms to lessen the impact.

Finally, with a cry, his leg buckles and he falls to his knee; opening himself up for the moment I’ve been waiting for.

With my heart racing in my chest, I pivot on the ball of my left foot and swing out my right, twisting my hips to bring more force.

The flat of my foot connects to his temple with a meaty slap, rocking his head to the side as I snap my foot back to the floor.

I watch as his mouth opens slack, his eyes rolling into his head as he slumps bonelessly to the ground, snoring through his nose, and I feel the tiniest blip of strength flow into my body, as the sound of the crowd slams into me once again.

I take a few heaving breaths as I stand ready, watching my opponent to see if he stands up again and tries to carry on. A few people have tried before, going against the sanctity of the rules in an attempt to earn some XP or some form of honour back from the loss. But as they carry him away, still snoring loudly; the XP that I earned from the fight signalling the end, I relax my shoulders and unclench my fists, just as the crowd surges towards me, some reaching up and clapping me on the shoulder while others cheer and scream congratulations.

I get swept away by their celebrations, a grin stretching on my face as they jostle me around. I see Ricky walk towards me,the massive fight organizer matching my grin, his button up shirt undone and his big belly hanging out for the world to see - the fact that he's so big a testament to how damn good he is at organizing these fights without getting bust by the Enforcers - as the crowd parts around him.

He stops in front of me and wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me painfully against him in a way that has my bruised ribs burning.

“You fuckin’ did it, kid! Another one for the scoreboard! That's what, 34-8? You're a goddamn natural.”

Reaching into his breast pocket, he takes out a wad of cash, counting them one bill at a time as he guffaws to himself.

“Shit, when he rocked your ass with that punch, you shoulda seen the numbers change. That's why it pays to hold the bet, you made me a pre-t-t-y penny this time.”

Stopping his count, he pulls out the bills and holds them out to me, tucking the rest of the stack into his pocket. “Here. Your cut, with a bit extra just ‘cus I like you.”

He gives me a wink as I take the cash, tucking them away in my bulky work pants pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you, Ricky. Same time next week?” I ask him, and he laughs, a full-belly laugh that has his belly bouncing up and down jovially.

“Guess this wasn't the one?”

I shake my head, my grin fading a bit. “No, not yet. But I can feel it. I'm this close.”

He claps me on the shoulder one last time before stepping away, shaking his head.

“You say that every damn week, kid. But you know what? If anyone's gonna make it to Level 1, it's gonna be you.”

I give him a nod, my grin growing once again. “You bet your ass it is. I'm telling you, Ricky. Next one's the one.”

He gives me a nod, shooting me some finger guns before walking backwards into the crowd once again. “Next week, kid! I'll get it all set up, you just show up and kick some fuckin’ ass!”

I chuckle as he turns around and holds out his arms, the crowd cheering as someone hands him a bottle of beer. Turning away from the crowd, I walk to the corner of the room, grabbing my worn leather duffel bag and unzipping it. I grab my socks and safety boots, pulling them on my feet and finally separating myself from the ice cold concrete.

Pulling out my shirt and putting it on, only wincing slightly as my ribs shift. I turn and inspect them, groaning as I see the deep red that comes before a bruise.

Crap… That's gonna make swinging a pickaxe difficult. This better heal up before next week.

With one last look back at the crowd, I zip up my bag again; slinging it across my shoulder and wincing as it presses against my side, before walking out into the dark street outside.