This is where to post any franchises from sports not listed above.
I didn't get to watch the whole fight but I did watch all of the 6th. Thought he had you honestly but you just outpunched him overall looks like. Pretty cool. Interested to see where the story goes next. Good stuff.
He almost got you near the end of the 6th, but what an interesting fight. Solid update, brother.
Abel sat awake in his bed. His eyes followed the cracks in the ceiling of the rundown shotgun house he and Miguel shared. The sound of Miguel and Beatriz having a celebratory fuck drifted through the walls. The couple were temporarily off the hook after Abel’s bar fight victory against Beto Cruz.
He swung his feet onto the floor and reached under the bed for a shoebox. Placing the beat up box on his lap, he removed the top and stared at the rolls of bills inside. Some of it was from money he’d saved over his time in Nueva Providencia, but the rest of it was what was left over after he’s given Miguel money for Beatriz’s hospital bills. $5,543 in total.
It was enough that he could leave if he wanted. But where would he even go?
The chorus of a squeaky full size bed and “ay, papi” died down from the other side of the wall. Abel sighed, slid the box back under the bed and laid down once again.
He thought he was going to be able to get a bit of rest until the house began to shake from the roar of dozens of engines rumbling down the street. Abel got up and went over to the window. Dust and light filled the sky as a convoy of trucks and SUVs approached.
They pulled to a stop outside of the house.
Rustling echoed through the house as Miguel came around the corner, adjusting a pair of boxers on his waist.
Abel pointed out of the window as men began to get out of the vehicles outside. The silk shirts, almost completely unbuttoned, and the cowboy boots made it quite clear what these guys did to make ends meet.
“Carnal, I thought Alberto said everything was cool?”
“Does everything look cool to you? It’s 1 in the morning and fucking cartel members are outside of the house.”
“I see that. But what are going to do?”
They didn’t get a chance to figure out a plan as someone began banging on the door, demanding it be opened in Spanish. It came with a threat that it would be kicked in if it wasn’t.
Abel, Miguel and Beatriz - - naked save for the blanket she wrapped around herself - - sat on the sofa as a man in a tailored suit looked at some pictures on the wall. He was young, likely in his early 30s, and clearly well connected.
“This is a fucking shit hole,” the man said in accented English. He took a picture, one of Miguel and one of his many cousins, off the wall and showed it to one of the four men who came in with him. “Parece alguien que se folló a un cerdo, no?”
The second man laughed. “Si, jefe.”
He tossed the picture onto the end table and turned around. Glancing at the recliner, his brow furrowed. He turned to Beatriz. “The blanket, please. So, I can sit down.”
“I can go grab her some clot—”
Miguel started to get up, but he was pushed back down.
“Here.” He picked up a couple magazines from the coffee table and held them out to Beatriz. “We can swap.”
After a few tense moments, Beatriz awkwardly held the magazines to her body while shedding the blanket and handing it over.
“Gracias, senorita.” The man carefully placed the blanket down and then sat on top of it. “My name is Kique Buemeros. I’m sorry for barging in like this, but you understand that it is a little harder than it used to be to cross the border.”
“Man, we didn’t mean to take any money that wasn’t ours. Abel probably still has it. We can—”
“You talk a lot,” Buemeros said. “I didn’t even say anything about money. The reason I’m here is related to the boxing match you,” he said, turning to Abel. “were in, though. You lost me a lot of money. I thought for sure Beto would kill you.”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to take a dive,” Abel said.
Buemeros laughed. “No, no. I just picked the wrong horse in that race. I need you to win my money back, though.”
“How do you expect me to do that?”
“The same way you lost me money. I set up a fight for you in Mexico. Tomorrow. I’m going to take all of the purse and you can have whatever money you’re willing to bet on yourself.”
“We split the purse.”
The man laughed again. This time he looked back at what seemed to be his guards and they laughed with him. “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s at the same bar as the one a couple days ago. You’ll be fighting a gringo who works with me.”
“Okay,” Abel said.
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t lose.” The warning was ominous as he stood up. “You all have a very beautiful house, by the way.”
And as quickly as the conversation had gone, Kique Buemeros and all his men had gotten back into their trucks and SUVs and had disappeared into the night.
Miguel looked at Abel and then at Beatriz, but said nothing
“What are you going to do, Abel?” Beatriz asked, reaching for the blanket to cover herself again.
“Go fight some white dude in Mexico, I guess.”
nice! glad you've brought this back!
Absolutely love that you brought this back. This and WOTR is everything I need.
His heart thumped in his chest and his palms were sitting inside of the gloves that he had to pull on himself. Buemeros didn't let Abel have a cornerman which meant that Miguel and his cousin Tito were somewhere in the crowd waiting for him to make his entrance to the dinghy gym that was doubling as a venue for the impromptu match.
He'd never fought on such short notice. He could still the bumps and bruises from his bout with Beto Cruz a couple days before and he knew he wouldn't be able to take too many punches. That would be easier said than done given how rusty he was moving around the ring.
The "Gringo" as Buemeros had referred to him was an Aryan Nation lowrider who had fallen afoul of the cartels while in prison. Once released, he'd made the mistake of going to Mexico to buy drugs to sell back in the States. They caught him and he somehow talked his way into boxing his way out of his debts. And people said race relations were soured beyond repair.
A Mexican man wearing a Cowboy hat walked into the bathroom. He glanced at Abel and spit on the floor.
"Esta listo?" he asked in a gruff voice.
Abel nodded. "Si."
"Vencomigo. El jefe quería recordarte que no pierdas."
The man turned and walked out of the bathroom. Abel had no idea what he'd said, but considering it started with "El Jefe" he assumed it was a threat from Buemeros. He stepped out of the hallway leading to the bathroom and glanced up at the ring. The white guy, tattoos covering his body, bounced around the ring shadowboxing. His form was terrible, but given his girth, he probably packed a punch.
Abel sighed and jumped into the ring.
thought big fella had you when he landed that big one in the 6th but overall you obviously outdid him, good fight