Andrei had told me to pay him a visit before leaving work that day, so there I went. He took me to one of his clubs. I just followed him into the imposing building, in complete silence. Don't know what I was expecting, but definitely not what I was about to see. He was just softly pulling me by my hand, a warm reminder. ... Not too sure of what.
I was surprised when he led me downstairs -- to the basement. Straight to the VIP room. The thick glass muted the roaring people outside and provided a nice view of what they were screaming about. Cage fights. ... Told you I wasn't expecting that -- not from what was essentially a brothel, anyway.
I looked at him, nervous. Knowing well that he was behind it all. That he was the devil himself, and didn't bother with a disguise anymore. I didn't want to look at what was happening in the cage. Two young girls, more interested in giving off a good show --to the other's dismay-- than anything else. A special challenge, Andrei told me. The winner gets an extra ten thousand -- out of his pocket, of course.
I leaned my back against the glass, my eyes glued on him. Knowing what was happening just a handful of feet behind me made me sick. Knowing that he was the one behind it... Shit.
"Why did you brought me here."
"I thought you'd like it." He smiled. Softly. Trying hard to be nice. It only made it hurt more.
"So, how much do they earn," I asked, knowing well leaving wasn't an option.
"It's all bets. Depends on what they're willing to risk. Some guys have gotten out of drowning debts in a night. Some others do it for the thrill of the fight." He kept inching ever closer to me.
"... How much do you get out of it."
"No commissions, though I do have guys placing bets. ... Sometimes they win, sometimes they lose. It's all fair."
"... They're not rigged?"
"Not unless I have a serious reason to, and then I'm most likely to step in myself." He grinned -- no need to explain. "Are you afraid of watching?" He grabbed me and turned me around like a puppet, forcing me to face the glass -- the cage. He hugged me from the back, his arms gripping me steadily, making sure I wouldn't turn around.
"Why do this." I closed my eyes. I couldn't look.
He let his chin rest comfortably on my shoulder. "It's not my fault if they're stupid enough to get in there. If they're greedy enough to take the risk."
"Risk?"
His voice was eerily soft -- yet far from his usual creepy whisper. "Well... there's one rule -- nobody dies. But some do end up quite badly beaten up. And as you can see... most of the time is more about pride than about money or pain."
No, I couldn't see 'cause I still had my eyes closed. But I had had a couple flashes of it at first. It was truly sickening. And keep in mind I've seen about everything.
There was an obvious smile in the way he was talking. "Open your eyes, Sandy. Watch it. Have fun. It's not your fault, you can enjoy the show."
"I hate this. You know." I opened my eyes. I'll spare you the details of what was happening in the cage.
"Why do you care so much about everything, Sandy."
I simply sighed. I guess he could never understand what it is to understand.
The commentator soon announced a winner, and opened the cage to give her the first part of the special prize -- a bucket of paint, so she could wreck every last bit of the other girl's pride. The crowd cheered wildly at her. I couldn't help to close my eyes as I felt Andrei's grin in my ear.
"That was unnecessary." I muttered.
"I don't think she'd agree with you."
