The Fighter

Part Two - Grant*

I sigh as the door to the gym slams shut behind me, heaving my duffel bag over my shoulder. Of all the things I've not believed could be happening, this is right at the top of the list. I shake off my disbelief and step out onto the sidewalk, head still spinning.

Hailing a cab, I check my phone for messages. I was leaving before Frank got back. He's been gone most of the day to run some errands for Warde.

Before he left, the big bull had waved a finger in Warde's face, scowling.

"You better fucking take it easy," Frank had said, "if I hear anything about you taking a throw while I'm gone, I'm gonna kick your ass when I get back."

I smile as I think about Frank's gruff way of showing his affection for the Boss, climb into the cab and give my address before the car pulls away into the fledgling night. Staring out the window, I think about how things have gone to get me to this point, and wonder...

...if I was worth it.

A few months back, my best friend and coworker, Drew, got a nearly impossible assignment: find and interview the elusive 'Boss' responsible for training most of the biggest names to run through the mixed martial arts rings in recent years. To everyone's surprise, they actually found him and got an interview. Boss - or rather, Warde - was a mummy of no little stature, and after the interview concluded, he threw my friend a safety net in that if anybody was going to come to him for a follow-up interview, it had better be them.

He must have had experience with this sort of thing, because as soon as Drew turned in their report, the assignment was taken from them and dropped into the hands of the lead sports reporter. True to his word, however, Warde refused to see anybody who wasn't Drew about further interviews.

On a tag-along trip after work one day, things got a little dicey. It was the first time I ever visited the gym with Drew, and shortly after arriving Warde took a particularly bad throw, which scared everybody involved pretty bad. Some good came of it, though: Warde and Drew ended up confessing their feelings for one another, and got together. And by chance, I got a massive minotaur boyfriend out of it all, too.

My phone buzzes. I check it to see a message from Frank, and I smile slightly.

>Hey kitty cat, sorry I missed you today. You have a good training session?

<Yeah it was good. Warde gave me some news that I never thought I'd hear and I'm still trying to process.

>He talked to me about it earlier this week. How are you feeling?

I stare at the question, not entirely sure how to answer. Lowering my phone, I stare out the window and the gathering clouds, the early evening stars disappearing behind them as if behind a curtain.

How *did* I feel?

So much has changed in the last few months, it's hard to think straight.

After the paper pulled that little trick on Drew, Drew quit and went to find work elsewhere. I couldn't blame them. There was no way in hell I wanted them to stay somewhere they weren't appreciated... though it was a little lonely now without them around. I usually see them at the gym every day, but their presence at work was the way I stayed sane most days. To be honest, their departure still stings a bit.

Warde has been working with me in the ring, and to my amazement I've been improving by leaps and bounds over any of my previous trainers. Warde is a tough guy, so slacking off won't earn you any sort of respect from him. It makes you really want to do your best. Every training session is grueling, but absolutely worth it. He's even pitted me against Flash Fire in practice bouts; Flash Fire is the giant tiger rakshasa I've looked up to since first starting MMA training years ago. Somehow, I've actually managed to get the upper hand on him a few times. It blows my mind.