Another Night, Another Fight

He didn't know who he, himself, was let alone the brunette who had just arrived in the back room of the club. He had a distinct feeling in his gut that he knew her somehow, but he just couldn't place it. Maybe she knew who he was and what he could do. Maybe he could trust her.

Or maybe she was one of them, trying to catch him and take him away.

She wasn't the most beautiful type, with a tangle of dark brown curls strewn around her shoulders and a pair of glasses perched tidily on her nose. She wasn't just of the 'average' type either. She was actually kind of cute in a way. No. Make that definitely cute.

And…was that recognition on her face? Or was it just his imagination?

Wait. Fear. That was fear.

Wha – ?


He returned his focus to the fight, forcing himself back in the mood as his opponent's fist collided with his jaw, emitting a loud, satisfying 'thwack!'

He picked himself up and energised by his thoughts returned the blow with three times the force.

The same heavy noise echoed and he watched triumphantly as the man fell, beaten, to the floor. It was oddly satisfying and he punched the air in victory.

Another win. Good. That meant two things: he'd get his money and keep the job for another night or so.



Without so much as another glance in the brunette's direction (she was probably just a decoy, a lure to trap him) he walked off the stadium, grabbed the offered towel and pushed his way through the crowd to leave.

This was his life now.

He couldn't afford to let random feelings about people who he may or may not have known before whatever had caused his memory loss to get in the way. He had to survive.