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"Oh, my God. What the hell happened to you?" I hissed, alarmed by Schneider's bleeding wound.

"It's just a flesh wound." Schneider said with a toothy grin.

How could he be so unbothered with a wound that was dripping blood all over the concrete floor?!

Thinking it would appease my concerns, he said, "You should see the other guy."

"What other guy?" I shouted over the rising ruckus.

Someone handed him a cloth that smelled of antiseptic and he dabbed the cut with it.

"Ladies and gentlemen." A sudden voice boomed over the rest, quieting the crowd instantly.

I searched the crowd for the source of the voice and found him standing in the middle of the makeshift rink, holding a huge rusted nail in one hand. He waved it around as he yelled, "We got ourselves another fight tonight!"

The crowd cheered and it was all I could do not to slap my hands over my ears. Their deafening cheers bounced off the walls, echoing like the ugly roar of a bloodthirsty ogre.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" They angrily demanded, pumping their fists into the electrically-charged air that smelled of various body odors.

I was slowly starting to understand what was going on. When it finally registered, my mouth formed the shape of an O.

This was an underground fighting rink, and I was clearly late to the show.

"How come I'm just finding out about this place?" I ask-yelled, slightly incensed that I wasn't included in this 'entertainment' event sooner. I liked a good fight as much as the next guy.

Schneider leaned into my ear and said, "It's the first time a fight has been organized since you came. It only happens when Schneizel's gone."

At that, both my eyebrows shot into my hairline.

Was Schneider telling me that he'd gone and orchestrated this event behind his brother's back?

"Why?" I shouted.

"He doesn't like it."

Why did Schneizel not like this? It wasn't like he was a particularly non-violent guy. If anything, this seemed like the type of thing that he'd enjoy, or even participate in.

Before I could question Schneider some more, two inmates enter the rink. With their chests puffed and their mugs grim, they looked like your typical MMA fighters, prison edition.

My eyes zeroed in on the knives they were holding.

"You can't be serious," I breathed, ashen-faced. It finally dawned on me how Schneider got his bleeding cut.

I whirled on him and demanded, "You fight with knives?! That's criminal and stupid as hell."

"This is hell," he said nonchalantly.

Even in a place like this, a knife fight was just asking for trouble. Considering the temperament and criminal history of some of these inmates, the worst possible idea was to give them a knife to swing around. Something catastrophic was bound to happen eventually, sooner rather than later.

Was this the reason why Schneizel didn't want these fights happening? In this instance, he'd certainly agree with him.

"Bets!" The announcer slash referee suddenly growled.

"Iron Claws!" Half the crowd shouted as they waved dollar bills and cigarette packs in the air, while the other half vehemently insisted, "Tooth Fairy!"

I slowly turned around with the most disappointed expression on my face. "Iron Claws? Tooth Fairy? Really?" Those were some of the worst and most cliché nicknames I'd ever heard.

Grinning, Schneider explained, "We love our theatrics."

"Yeah, you're a real sophisticated bunch," I replied sarcastically, and turned to see the bookie coming toward us.

"Who do you want to bet on?" Schneider asked.

I blinked. "I don't have anything to bet with."

"Never mind that. Pick your fighter." Schneider instructed.

"Umm..." I looked between the two inmates. Both were heavily tattooed and built like tanks. "Any recommendations?"

"Tooth Fairy's a long-standing champion."

I looked to the guy Schneider was pointing at. He was a 6'3 hulking beast with tea branches for arms and legs and watermelons for fists. He looked like he could take on a rhinoceros, easy. When he bore his teeth in a silent growl at the enemy, I saw that he was missing his two front teeth.

"Alright, then. Tooth Fairy it is."

Schneider placed two cigarette packs into a dirty top hat filled with money and more cigarette packs, and then handed it back to the bookie. "I'll go with Tooth Fairy as well."

"Bets closing!" The bookie called a few minutes later once he'd finished going through the crowd. The top hat he was carrying was filled to overflowing with all manner of contraband.

The fight was about to begin.

He pushed the people blocking our view out of the way until we were standing at the front line, and then he threw a hand over my shoulders and drew me close.

"Watch for his right hook," he instructed into my left ear.

What I couldn't stop watching was the deadly-looking knife he was gripping in his head.

"So, you're telling me you fought in the rink with a knife?" I wondered out loud, skeptical.

"Yup."

I glanced sideways at Schneider. "Did you win?"

He flashed me a confident smirk and said, "What do you think?"

"Fight!" The announcer tossed the nail onto the ground and the fight ensued.

The two fighters lunged at each other, swiping knives. The white instruments of death were flashes of white as the two waved and jabbed them around, aiming for each other's weak points.

Watching, a sense of incredulity came over me. This place really was something else. Nothing here was done normally, and it seemed that a shadow of mortal danger had to taint everything in order for it to be considered 'fun'.

I peeked at Schneider from the corner of my eye to see that he was avidly watching the fight, his eyes practically glowing, as if he craved to jump into the fray as well.

"Shank him in the dick, Fairy!" The inmate on my right abruptly hollered, startling me. My eyes flew to him to see that his own eyes were wide and nearly bulging out of their sockets. From the looks of his dilated pupils, he looked high on something.

Tooth Fairy repeatedly jabbed his knife at Iron Claws until he nicked him in the chest, the wound spewing blood onto the concrete floor. I grimaced as Iron Claws cried out and staggered backwards, nearly losing his footing.

"What's the matter, you fucking bitch? Losing already? What a fucking loser! You're a waste of money!" The loud inmate taunted at the top of his lungs, drawing Iron Claws' attention to him.

He was going to get himself punched in the face if he kept this up.

Just like I'd expected, Iron Claws' furious wide eyes zeroed in on him. His fist tightened around the knife's handle, his nostrils flaring exactly like a raging bull's.

I instantly knew what was about to happen even before my stomach plummeted and my heart seized.

He pounced in our general direction.

I moved out of the way, but the high idiot, having sensed the attack as well, ran and collided into me, knocking the breath out of my lungs.

Naturally, the raging bull followed, his knife poised to strike.

"Aiden!" I heard Schneider crying out my name right before I felt piercing pain at my side.