Damon settled into his seat, adjusting the straps of his carry-on before sliding it into the overhead compartment.
He quickly looked around the cabin and could feel the settled murmur of people getting comfortable.
The business-class section was spacious, with wide seats and enough legroom to stretch out.
He couldn't help but smirk as he sat down and fastened his seatbelt.
Victor had made a joke about it earlier.
"Business class, huh? Better enjoy it, kid, 'cause you're paying for it."
At the time, Damon had laughed, brushing it off.
But now, as he reclined in the soft leather seat and glanced at the menu options, actual meals instead of snack-sized pretzels, it hit him.
He wasn't just some kid scrapping for a chance anymore.
He had money.
Real money.
The fight payout had been respectable, $12,000 to show, $12,000 to win, but the system had its own twist.
