[MythicDusk]

Flint bowed his head, taking deep breaths as he rolled his fingers, feeling the damaged bones in his knuckles roll against eachother. His dark eyes watched as his blood spilled over the fresh wounds. Maybe the fact he was so spacey was because of the repeated blows to the head. Maybe that's why he was watching his hands and not the fist flying at his head.

He heard the punch before he felt it, the wet smack of flesh on flesh, felt his flesh ripple with the impact, felt his head jerk to a side instinctually as he staggered, shaking his head and trying to clear the cotton from his eyes before bringing his hands back up into a defensive position.

Sounds started leaking back in, the screams of the ring of people, screaming at him or his opponent to win, to get them money. He licked his bloodied lips carefully, bobbing out of the way of another punch, aimed at his bared shoulder and he struck back, a quick motion that sent his hand flying at the other man's face. He heard the satisfying crunch of the other man's nose breaking. He felt himself smile as he brought his hand back, jabbing forward again, and again, and again.

Before he knew it, the man was on the ground, his arms curled around his head and his knees against his chest, crying out in pain as Flint kicked at him, screaming words he didn't remember. He could taste blood, maybe his own, maybe his opponents. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he stopped, the trained bloodlust fading from his tired, aching limbs.

His trainer, his coach, took him softly by the arm and led him to one of the car bonnets. It was now that Flint could feel the grass of the field between his toes. He always preffered to fight barefoot. He could feel that one of his toes was broken.

He carefully sat on the hood of the car, tilting his head back and letting his coach shine a flashlight into his face, watch his pupils dilate, wipe away the blood, check his nose wasn't too badly broken, check his teeth were all in place.

"You got lucky, kid. A minor concussion and a black eye. Coulda been a lot worse."

Flit shrugged, giving a gentle smirk.

"Was a job well done though, ay boss?" He chimed, hissing in pain as the coach pulled on one of his ears.

"Don't be cocky, lad."

[MythicDusk]

Flint slowly got up from the car once his face was cleaned, he sniffed slightly, the smell of antisceptic on his hands making his head spin. His broken and roughly set toe ached in his shoe. He had been slapped on the back, had been told that he was a champion fighter, that they looked forward to the rest of his matches.

None of them offered him a fuckin' ride though.

He had changed into something inconspicuous, his hood drawn up and hiding the worst of his wounds. Hopefully he wouldn't be pulled over by any police on his long walk home to his apartment.

Then, a car pulled up. He could barely see inside for the sarkness, and he felt himself wince against the light when it was turned on as the door opened. Inside, sat Bogail. He knew of her, but they had never met. The short, wiry, scarred woman with her hair cut short, her sunglasses carefully tucked into her pocket. He could see the ever so slight rises of her holsters under the immaculatley fitted suit.

"Get in."

Flint licked his lips, taking a shaky breath.

"Alright."

He had sat in the plush leather before he knew what he was doing, pulling the door shut with the distinct feeling he was closing the cage behind him as he stepped into the lion's den.

[MythicDusk]

Gail hummed as the boy got into the car, he was thick of arm and shoulder, he looked like a day laborer, not a back alley boxer. He looked intimidating enough to get a job as a bouncer for a bar. Maybe that was his dream job. His face with splits and scars, his knuckles skinned and scarred, his fingers broken and mended poorly. Gail supposed she could have a use for him.

"That was a good fight, boy." She stated, watching as he settled into the plush leather, looking like a child about to be scolded. Gail supposed that was how people generally felt when faced with the head of the mob.

[MythicDusk]

Flint felt his ears twitch and burn as the compliment Gail had given him, and he gave a weak smile. He could still taste the blood on his teeth. "Thank you, ma'am." He didn't know what to call her, how to refer to her, if he should even look at her.

She was the royalty of his world, she was the undisputed queen, the woman who held everything in her palm, including his life. With a simple motion the driver could spin in his seat and fill him full of holes, she could wrap a rope around his neck and strangle him infront of his own mother and she wouldn't be able to do anything.

He felt a tingle up his spine, spreading across his arms and shoulders like wings as fear began to pulse through him.

[MythicDusk]

Gail began to smile. He was as nervous as a rabbit in the sight of a rifle. He looked like he was going to be sick. She could see him shaking and how hollow his cheeks went from here. She enjoyed having this kind of reaction on people. To see them tremble, to see them so scared, so unsure. It brought light to her old, cobbled heart.

She shifted in her seat slightly. "Call me Gail, son. What's your name?" Her voice was gentle, almost that of a loving mother. She caught the eyes of her driver in the mirror. Her most trusted person, the woman she had brought up as her own child, who she had trained and moulded into the harsh woman she was today. Those dark, deep red eyes caught hers and Gail could see the faint crinkle of a smile at the corners of her eyes and she couldn't help her own before she turned to the man again as the car pulled away from the curb.

[MythicDusk]

Flint felt energy crackle up his limbs when Gail spoke. She didn't ask him where he lived and they were driving already. He felt sweat bead at the back of his neck before he answered, clearing his throat slightly to get rid of the tremble of fear in his throat.

He was a champion back alley boxer. He wasn't scared of hell nor high water. He set his jaw and looked Gail full in the eyes. The shilling, icy blue, cold eyes. He kept the gaze, not daring to look away as he answered.

"I'm Flint, Gail. Backalley Brawler, as you know. Manager and coach is Gordon."

He licked his lips carefully his mouth suddenly dry.

"Don't you need to know where I live?"

[MythicDusk]

She almost laughed at the question, a quirk of her lips betraying her amusement. As if she didn't know everything about this man. Everything and more.

"No need, Danielle knows where you live."

There was a thinly veiled threat. A motion of violence in her voice, a strike to Flint's solar plexus. Her eyes sparkled with malice as her smile gave away only friendlyness.

"Why wouldn't I know where my favorite fighter lives, after all?"

Her voice was a trill, a soft sound as she looked back towards the front of the car, humming as the car pulled up to the curb just outside Flint's apartment complex.

[MythicDusk]

Flint got out of the car in a daze. He could feel the threat crawling over his skin, wheedling into his ears, clinging to the inside of his mouth like a film, pulling his eyelids down and making his cheeks wet with tears. He motioned a vague thanks over his shoulder to Gail and her driver, closing the door quietly.

He carefully typed in the code with his shaking hands. He couldn't even feel the pains in his toe, in hsi face, in his hands, he simply walked up the stairs, careful and quiet until he got to his own apartment, unlocking the door and shouldering the door open, taking in the scent of his home.

[MythicDusk]

Ophelia knew he had been out fighting. She hated it when he had been out fighting. He always came back looking like a sack of pulverised meat. She hated seeing him like this. Seeing him limp through the door. It always hurt her deep in her heart.

But this time, she saw his face. Saw how he checked the lock, again and again. Saw how his tears had been wet. Saw how he tried to hide it.

"Flint? What happened?" Her voice was soft and careful as she uncurled from the couch, her feet whispering over the wood floors as she walked carefully towards him.

[MythicDusk]

Flint quickly wiped at his cheeks, sniffling carefully as he did so, taking in a shaking, calming breath. He couldn't tell her. Couldn't tell her about the thinly veiled threats. Couldn't tell her about any of that. He licked his lips carefully, glancing away from those soft eyes that loved every inch of him.

"Nothin' Fee. Nothing to worry about. Just got a few hits on the head, shook me up a little is all. I won, though."

His voice was rough from the fear and adrenaline that still coursed through him. It was like the first fight he had ever been in, against a beast of a man that broke both his arms and nearly cracked his spine. He was so scared he could cry.

Instead, he carefully wrapped his arms around his girlfriend.

"I love you, Fee. You know that, right?"

[Wild Pet Found]

[MythicDusk]

"I know Flin. I know. I love you too." Her words were gentle and careful, comforting and soft. She softly ran her fingers through the back of Flint's hair, ruffling up the short strands. The strands she had cut into their proper place but a few days ago.

She didn't know what had shaken him so much, what had made the unmovable man with a delightful sense of humor that she loved so much tremble in her arms, to feel his broad chest trembling with sobs broke her heart.

"C'mon Flin. You need a shower and a good meal. I have something in the oven for you I can reheat okay? It's okay, you're home now."

[MythicDusk]

Flint trembled in Ophelia's arms, felt the shudder of a sob rock through him. Slowly, the tears stopped, his weeping stopped, he clamed in the arms of his girlfriend, in the arms of the woman he loved. He nodded gently at her suggestion of food and a shower.

He pulled away, giving her a soft, sweet kiss, just for a moment. He gave her a delicate smile, pulling away and padding towards the shower, his limbs trembling with newfound exhaustion.

He closed the door behind him, stripping off and inspecting the bruising across his ribs and stomach. He turned on the shower, running it for a few moments before stepping in, letting the warm water wash over his tight muscles.

After a while, he washed and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and then stepping out of the room to hunt down pyjama pants.

[MythicDusk]

Ophelia hummed into the gentle kiss, touched Flint's jaw, ran her fingers across his neck. When he pulled away she let herself deflate just a little, felt her heart yearn to be held again. She steeled herself, shook herself, took a breath, and returned to the kitchen to heat up the simple meal she had prepared for him a while ago.

Ophelia couldn't help her smile as he walked back out of the bathroom, his hair in his eyes and a towel wrapped around his waist as he hunted through the folded laundry in the bedroom, eventually finding what he wanted, which Ophelia could tell by the distant 'Aha!'

[MythicDusk]

Flint padded out of the bedroom, rubbing his hair dry with the towel he had wrapped around his waist, and he heard Fee snort at the sight, placing down the steaming plate of food. He hummed in delight as he began to carefully eat, picking at the less-hot pieces and jamming them into his mouth.

He hummed his thanks to Ophelia, who leaned carefully against the counter, watching him eat with a soft smile. Eventually, he cleaned his plate and stood to place it in the dishwasher, for it to wash the dishes overnight.

"Thank you, Fee. Was delicious." He smiled, giving her a soft peck on the cheek when she presented her cheek to him with a smile.

[MythicDusk]

Ophelia grimmed at the soft peck on the cheek and the compliment, she gently took Flint's hand, placing it on her waist as she buried her face into his broad chest, being careful of the darkening and yellowing bruises. "You don't have to fight y'know." She murmured into his skin, her own hands creeping around his waist, touching the indent of his spine, running her fingers up the ravine it created.

"I can find a job. It'll be fine. I don't like you getting hurt." A stickiness coated her throat, a constriction of emotions that threatened to burst through. She slowly curled her fingers into fists, being careful to not scrape her fingernails across Flint's back.