The announcer's voice boomed through the warehouse, thick with smoke and sweat.
"Next up! A new challenger stepping into the ring for the very first time! They call him—IRON MASK!"
The crowd roared, the chant of "Iron! Iron! Iron!" already forming as Jason climbed between the ropes. His boots scraped against the stained mat, the floor littered with old blood darkened to rusty patches.
Across the ring, his opponent stretched, rolling his shoulders. He was broad, ugly, with muscles packed tight like cords under his skin. His crooked nose had clearly been broken too many times, his left ear swollen thick like a cauliflower. He cracked his neck slowly, the sound sharp as a rifle shot.
"And facing him—one of our fan favorites, the Bone-Crusher himself—TONY "THE JACKAL" ROURKE!"
The warehouse erupted. Cheers shook the metal beams overhead. Men slapped money down on the tables, shouting odds, while women hollered in wild excitement. Jason's eyes narrowed. Tony Rourke. Bone-Crusher. That explains the nose.
Tony sneered at him, tapping his fists together. "First time, kid? Bad night to make history. I'll make sure you don't remember a damn thing."
Jason forced a smirk, biting down on his mouthguard. "Thanks. I needed a dentist appointment anyway."
The bell rang.
---
Tony came at him like a storm. His fists were a blur, heavy and merciless. Jason ducked once, twice—but the third punch slammed straight into his jaw. Pain exploded through his skull, and he felt something snap.
A tooth.
Jason stumbled back, blood pouring from his mouth, the copper taste flooding his tongue. The crowd screamed in delight. Tony laughed cruelly, circling like a predator.
"Pathetic! This is the great Iron Mask?!" Tony spat on the ground. "More like Iron Glass!"
Jason spat the broken tooth to the side, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. His vision blurred for a moment, the crowd swaying like waves. His system stats echoed in his mind—Strength: 19. Reflex: 18. Agility: 24.
He was outmatched.
Tony barreled forward again, his fists hammering Jason's ribs, one after another. The air left Jason's lungs in a harsh grunt. He folded, crashing against the ropes.
The crowd jeered and laughed, some already turning away as if the fight was over.
Jason staggered, clutching his side. His body screamed at him to quit, to stay down. But something burned hotter than the pain—the thought of Sophie, her voice, her hands. And Sam's words: Survive first, prove something later.
Jason raised his guard. "Alright," he muttered under his breath. "Playtime's over."
---
Tony lunged again, fist cocked. But Jason shifted at the last moment, letting the punch graze his cheek instead of shatter it. He leaned into the ropes, absorbing the momentum, then sprang forward. His elbow smashed into Tony's ribs.
The crowd gasped.
Tony grunted, surprise flashing in his eyes. "Lucky shot."
Jason grinned, spitting blood. "Yeah? Let's see how many more 'lucky shots' I've got."
This time he didn't fight with speed—his stats were too low. He fought with timing. Every time Tony threw a haymaker, Jason let him overcommit, twisting at the last second and driving a counter into his ribs, his side, his jaw. Small hits, not enough to drop him, but enough to sting. Enough to frustrate.
Tony roared, swinging wilder, angrier. His punches came harder but sloppier.
Jason ducked under a wide hook, slamming his fist into Tony's stomach. The bigger man staggered. Jason pressed the advantage, landing two jabs and a right hook across Tony's temple. The crowd roared louder now, sensing the tide shifting.
"IRON! IRON! IRON!"
Jason's chest heaved, lungs burning, but he felt the rhythm. Every dodge, every counter—it was like dancing with pain. He used the system numbers in his head like a guide: his reflexes weren't as high, so he baited Tony instead of trying to outspeed him. His strength was low, so he aimed for precision—temples, ribs, kidneys.
And slowly, it worked.
Tony's smirk vanished. His movements grew slower, sloppier. Jason saw the fatigue creep in.
Jason landed a sharp uppercut, snapping Tony's head back. The crowd exploded. Blood sprayed from Tony's lip, painting the mat.
Jason grinned through his swollen jaw. Got you.
---
Tony roared in fury, throwing a desperate swing. Jason ducked under, twisted, and with all the strength he had left, drove his fist straight into Tony's jaw.
CRACK.
Tony collapsed, his massive frame hitting the mat like a felled tree. The noise shook the room.
Silence.
Then chaos.
The crowd erupted into madness. Cheers, screams, chants of "IRON MASK! IRON MASK!" echoed through the warehouse. Men pounded their fists on tables, women leapt to their feet. Bets exchanged hands in furious rushes, and Jason stood in the center of it all, bloodied but victorious.
The announcer's voice was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Jason raised one shaky fist, his chest heaving. Sweat and blood dripped down his face, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever.
He had done it. He had won.
---
After the fight, Victor pulled him aside into a dim hallway behind the warehouse. Jason's knuckles throbbed, his ribs screamed, and his mouth ached from the missing tooth. But he grinned anyway.
Victor smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. "Kid, you made me some money tonight. Didn't think you had it in you, but damn—you pulled through."
Jason spat blood into a nearby bucket. "So… what's my cut?"
Victor handed him an envelope, thick with folded bills. Jason opened it, eyes widening. "Three hundred bucks?"
Victor nodded. "Not bad for your first night. Rookie fights don't bring in much—but you've got something the crowd likes. You hear 'em chanting? They'll pay to see you bleed again."
Jason tucked the envelope into his jacket, still catching his breath. "So what's next?"
Victor's grin widened. "Next? You keep fighting. But remember this— the more you stake, the bigger the payout. Tonight was small stakes. You want the real money? You start putting skin in the game. Double, triple the risk. Big fights, big bets."
Jason's eyes narrowed. He could feel the hook sinking deeper. He'd tasted victory, the roar of the crowd, the weight of cash in his hands.
And even though his jaw throbbed and his tooth was gone, he smiled.
"Alright," he said. "Let's make it bigger."