You look at the Delivery Man weird for a moment before you give in and ask,
"Who's asking?"
The man looks at his fist for a moment before looking back up at you and you can understand it, before he even says it.
"I fought in more than a few of your events years back. I'm Mitch." he says, straightening his shoulders.
Mitch...you still can't believe you forgot his name. Mitch was the best fighter in the entire club. His total record over the final year of the club was 65-7, only beat by the other fighters in the top 5. This guy was what everyone called the "Juggernaut". Cliche, but it was accurate. Some would even make fun of his name. Before his time fighting in the club, he was called "Mitchless", but clearly he showed them why you don't make fun of the guy afterwards.
"Juggernaut. I forgot that name a while back. Why did you stay in LA?" you ask, scratching your chin.
Mitch thinks for a moment before eventually speaking. "Well gang culture here is rather...widespread. I just couldn't get tired of it. I searched for more and more fights after the club quit it's events, and I've just so happened to never leave. And well....now I'm a FedEx delivery driver..so."
"But I do...remember someone else other than yo-"
Mitch is cut off by a voice in the hallway.
"Mitch "Mitchless" Jesko! It has been a while, huh bud?" says Killian, appearing in the doorway.
"Ah yes, Killian. He is who I also remember."
"Holy shit, you're actually still alive! You want to come join us at our gang orientation? We could use a third anyway." says Killian with a shrug.
"Not particularly, no. But you'll hunt me down if I say no..."
"That's the spirit bud! Helios, get yourself ready, we got some people to see." says Killian quickly.
You agree, and quickly check yourself in your mirror. You pick your comb out from the top left....no, bottom left...no, bottom bottom lef- where is your comb? Oh...it's in your hand, that's right.
You quickly comb your dark brown hair back, holding it there with your gel. You wish you had a beard to cover that bothersome pimple on your chin, but you didn't seem to win the gene pool regarding facial hair, and clearly, not in acne as well. Your eyes are shining a verdant green, of which you block the sight of with a pair of sunglasses. You quickly finish up, grabbing your keys and locking your door behind you.
"Alright, what are we waiting for? Let's get going already."
The sun is blinding, and the heat is even worse. You're already in the beginning stages of heatstroke, and you obviously arent much of a fan. You could have sworn the newscaster said it was only going to be 74 degrees. It's more like 90....
Past the heatwave, you see the skyscrapers of Los Angeles in the distance, almost blocking out the morning sun. The sun doesn't seem to have a single care in the world, as its' rays cut through the gaps in the faraway buildings like a hot knife through butter.
The walk continues for another 30 minutes or so, drivers trying their hardest not to hit you, Killian, and Mitch, considering you're walking in a rather vulnerable position in the middle of the road. Talking about the road, you touched your hand to it earlier, and you could probably cook an egg on the asphalt with this heat.
"How...much longer..." you say between breaths.
Killian gives an entertained smirk.
"If you pass out, I won't be carrying you, you know." he chimes.
"I was hoping you wouldn't."
He responds with a quick shake of his head before leading you and Mitch to the right into one of the many alleyways within the city. The sun quickly disappears behind the surrounding buildings on your left and right.
"So what exactly is this gang we're looking for?" you inquire.
Killian is using this as an opportunity to tease you, which becomes obvious when he says "Nervous already? I didnt expect that much from you. Anyway, have you ever watched fight club?"
"David Fincher's clear 1999 masterpiece? Of course I did." you respond.
"This gang is basically that, but gang versus gang instead. They start you out with fights to test you, then put you on the ranks of their fighters against the other gangs in LA if you impress them. You'll see when we get there." he says, waving you along.
Somehow, the already sketchy alleyway proceeds to get sketchier as Killian takes shorter left and right turns, before you and him eventually reach a steel door at a dead end.
"Does Killian usually bring you to sketchy spots?" asks Mitch.
You shake your head no, before giving your forehead an annoyed pinch.
"How did you manage to bring me to the sketchiest area in all of Los Angeles Killian? That should be awar-"
"Just shut up and let me do the talking." he says.
You grumble to yourself before Killian knocks on the door with purpose, and by knock, you mean he kicks it repeatedly before someone eventually answers.
"Who is it?" grumbles the voice on the other side.
Killian speaks something you can't understand in a language that you can't track. It seems they argue for a moment before all goes silent and the doors open, and the sounds of voices begin to open up as you walk through.
"So what did you say to him?" you ask while walking down the dimly lit hall way.
Killian thinks for a moment, as if he's thinking of whether he should answer your question or not.
"Ah. I told him to go fuck himself. He got the message." he responds with a deep chuckle.
You walk in silence between the three before the hallway opens up into a massive room. Inside is roughly 80 or so other people, and a voice speaks up from the far end, where a man in a denim jacket and baggy shorts stands, seemingly getting ready to begin. The others in the room realize this and begin to shut each other up.
Once all the people in the crowd silence themselves, the man begins to speak.
"We have a crowd.... I tend forget how large this gang of ours has become. But I digress. This is your test. Today will be your time to prove to our superiors that you can handle yourself in a fight, of which here at the very least....you will see often."
Silence hits the room for a moment before the man continues speaking.
"Although, none of you would be here if that weren't the case, so I shouldnt need to preface anything. To filter out the weaklings in this group, we're going to have a few fights. One on One battles with no weapons."
You can feel the atmosphere getting more dangerous by the second. You're split on whether you like that fact or not, as most of the guys here generally seem stronger than you. One sits on one of the standing barrels, arms crossed, feet tapping, as if he's waiting for his chance to hit somebody.
Another in the middle of the crowd cracks his neck, feeling for something on his waist, seemingly to make sure it's there. Here's hoping he's not the first guy you're fighting.
This may just go down as one of the worst decisions you've ever made, but...it could be worse. Most things can, anyway.