Seeing Nate and Amiran in the holding room lets Leon breathe a sigh of relief. The girls are somewhere in the building, ready to make their move on a moments’ notice. The guard, now conscious and very unhappy, grabs Amiran and drags him down the hall with Leon. Leon takes one last glance at his brother, who remains in the room. They exchange reassuring nods. What Zion said about being the bigger man his brother hoped he could be-- it begins to make sense. This fight is for more than just him.
The guards are kind enough to let Leon and Amiran warm up and wrap their knuckles before the fight. Still bruised from his last encounter with Quenlin’s thugs, Leon encases his hands delicately. Within moments, the boys are ushered into the brightly lit arena. Their audience is no more than 70 people packed into a stuffy space, but with how aggressive and passionate they are about the upcoming fight, it might as well be a thousand. It feels familiar, yet foreign. No weapons, no announcers, no sponsorships-- just them and their wits. The buzzer sounds.
Amiran mutters an apology under his breath before throwing the first punch. Leon narrowly dodges it, taking the opening to knee his opponent in the gut. The audience roars-- admittedly, it’s a sound Leon enjoys hearing. The thought of a rematch with a former opponent used to be something exciting to a tournament fighter, but now, it just feels like punishment. Regardless, they give it their all.
The boys try to maintain plausible deniability in their brawl. If they fake too many moves, their adamant audience will begin to tell; but with Amiran’s no-holds-barred style and Leon’s need to please, kicking the shit out of one another isn’t in the team’s best interest. Leon finds himself off-balance with this arm; it’s smaller, weighs less, and doesn’t pack nearly as much of a punch as he’s used to. It doesn’t help that Amiran’s taken quite a beating from his last encounter with Quenlin’s men, either. So much for a fair fight, he thinks.
Leon slides across the arena floor on his knees, creating an uproar from the audience. The adrenaline is enough to keep Amiran’s kick from hitting him square in the side. Leon throws one back in retaliation.
“What’d you get out of Quenlin?” Amiran asks. He dodges Leon’s kick, grabbing his leg and sweeping him off his feet.
“More like what he got out of me,” Leon says between coughs. Carefully, he shoves Amiran off of him and regains his stature. Both fighters notice how the energy of the audience starts to lull. Leon hesitates, then curls his fingers into fists. “Think of this as me getting even.”
He spins backward and catches his leg on Amiran’s shoulder. From there, he’s able to wrap himself around his opponent’s shoulder, bringing him to the ground with tremendous force. Leon turns Amiran onto his back, pinning his arms above his head and drilling his knee into his back. Five seconds pass and the buzzer sounds. Amiran smiles weakly.
“Looks like you finally got your win, handsome.”
Leon rises to his feet and looks at the audience. They clap, cheer, throw their fists in the air; their fervor could be heard from miles away. He’s their crowned champion for the night. He helps Amiran to his feet, glancing up at the referee guarding the door they entered the arena from-- behind it, a pair of eyes and brunette hair. Reese’s eyes widen when the boys become aware of her presence. Leon scrambles for a solution. “Break my nose.”
Amiran furrows his brow. “What?”
“The only thing between Reese and this room is that referee. We need to get him to move. Be a sore loser.”
Amiran takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for this.” He turns away, acting as if he’s walking in the other direction; but in a matter of moments, he swings his arm around and lets his fist crash into Leon’s face. Reese flinches from behind the door. Lo and behold, the ref drops into the ring and shoves Amiran away from his bleeding opponent. Even through the pain, Leon can’t help but crack a smile as the door flies open and smoke bombs clatter to the floor. Among the fumes, Reese reaches a hand down into the arena.
“I expected you to be the one breaking noses,” she says to Leon, “not the one receiving them.”
“If we're being honest, I expected you to be the one to break mine,” Leon says. When the smoke clears, the team is long gone.
Reese crouches down against the wall. She pulls two pistols from their holsters and tosses them to Amiran and Leon. “I hope your aim in the arena is as good as your aim to knock somebody out," she says. “Zion is ready to have the Goddard agents set up a perimeter. It’s your call. This is your fight, Leon.” He’s shocked to hear Reese putting trust in him. He’s not surprised when it’s followed by, “I’m really only saying this because it’s what Nate would want.”
Leon ponders the thought. “Not yet,” he answers. “Like you said, it’s my fight. Some of this, I have to do on my own. Amiran, you look for Bronwen and get her somewhere safe. Reese and I will meet up with Nate and Adya. Be careful.”
“Out of sight, out of mind,” Amiran says, cocking his gun. “When I got kidnapped, I only experienced a fraction of what Bronwen has been through. Make this motherfucker pay for it.”
Meanwhile, Nate navigates the weaving hallways from the holding room to the ring-- or rather, the two guards beside him do the navigating. He merely follows. Handcuffed with a sack over his head, they’re prepared to not make the same mistake twice.
Even though he never admitted it, Nate thought that there was always something admirable about Leon. He lived in his father’s shadow, but was more than he ever could be. Their father got what he wanted with force, but Leon had his signature charm. At heart, he’s a curious kid who wants to know everyone’s story, everyone’s view of the world and where they belong in it. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t yet know where he fits into the mix, but he also has always had a fascination for connecting. For living. Despite the tension between them, when Leon’s career first began to make headlines, Nate was proud. His heart is in the arena, whether or not a so-called manager has a say in it. Both brothers had begun to find a purpose that would outlive the iron grip of their father.
Second behind joining the Brotherhood, leaving Leon is Nate’s biggest regret. Both of them deserved a new beginning, but Nate never had the courage to go back and risk facing the thing he swore to be bigger than. Leon’s behavior often feels like an extension of him, so at times, forgiveness feels complicated. But as an agent, Nate’s job is to help; if there’s only one person he can save-- from pain, from exploitation, from hate-- he’ll do anything to make sure it’s Leon.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to strip your fighters of their weapons before a match?” Nate asks the guards.
“We do,” one says. His speech is slurred; they grow suspicious.
“Looks like you miscalculated.”
Panicked, the guard pulls the sack off of Nate’s head. In his mouth is a taser.
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