Ghost in the Underground

Chapter 8: The Butcher's Playground

The underground arena pulsed with energy, the crowd pressing in close, their voices a mix of drunken cheers and savage anticipation. The ring was smaller than Sammy liked—less room to move, less space to breathe.

Across from him, Dante "The Butcher" Moreno rolled his shoulders, his knuckles already cracked and scarred from a lifetime of breaking bones. His eyes weren't wild like some brawlers Sammy had fought. They were cold. Calculating. The eyes of a man who knew exactly how much damage he could inflict.

Vinnie watched from his VIP seat, sipping whiskey, clearly enjoying the show before it even started.

The referee barely gave them a glance. "Fight."

Dante exploded forward.

Sammy barely had time to react before Dante's knee slammed into his ribs. The force sent a shockwave through his body, knocking him back into the ropes.

Pain shot through his side. Fast. Too fast.

Dante didn't stop. He followed up with a left hook—Sammy ducked—then a vicious elbow that grazed his temple.

Sammy stumbled back, trying to create space. Dante wasn't just strong—he was relentless.

Carlos' voice rang in his head: Stay out of the clinch!

Dante lunged again, grabbing for Sammy's neck—trying to drag him into his world.

Sammy pivoted at the last second and threw a brutal uppercut to the ribs.

THUD.

Dante barely flinched.

His lips curled into a smile.

Sammy danced backward, keeping his hands tight. The plan was to counter, to outbox him—but Dante wasn't playing that game.

He stalked forward, throwing heavy leg kicks—one clipped Sammy's calf, making his knee buckle slightly.

Sammy circled, jabbing, trying to find an opening. He flicked out a right cross—Dante ate it and charged through.

In an instant, Sammy was in the clinch.

Dante's grip was like steel. He pulled Sammy's head down and slammed a knee into his stomach. Then another.

Sammy coughed, body screaming in pain.

The crowd roared.

Think!

Sammy drove his thumb into Dante's throat.

Dante gagged for half a second. That was all Sammy needed.

He broke free and fired a short, sharp left hook into Dante's jaw. Crack.

Dante staggered back. Not much, but enough.

He licked the blood off his lip and grinned.

"You got some fight in you," he muttered.

Sammy's chest heaved. His body hurt. But he wasn't done.

"Yeah," he spat. "And I'm just getting started."

Dante came forward again. This time, Sammy didn't back up.

He stepped in.

Dante threw a wild hook. Sammy slipped just enough and delivered a brutal counter to the liver.

THUD.

Dante grunted, his body jerking involuntarily. His hands dropped slightly.

Sammy ripped another right hook to the ribs.

Then a short uppercut to the chin.

Dante swayed—but didn't fall.

Sammy could hear Carlos shouting, "Stay on him!"

He pressed forward, firing off a four-punch combo—left, right, hook, cross—each shot landing cleaner than the last.

Dante stumbled back—for the first time in the fight.

The crowd's tone shifted.

Sammy felt it.

Momentum.

But Dante wasn't finished.

He took a deep breath, reset, and suddenly exploded forward—this time with a spinning backfist.

Sammy barely saw it coming.

WHAM!

The shot clipped him across the temple. His vision went white for a second, his legs wobbling beneath him.

Dante pounced.

A knee to the stomach.

A clubbing elbow to the back of the head.

Sammy hit the canvas, gasping for air.

The ref didn't step in. This wasn't a normal fight.

Dante stood over him, cracking his knuckles. "Stay down, kid."

Sammy forced himself up. His ears were ringing. His breath was shallow. But his fists were still up.

Dante smirked. "Good."

Sammy knew he couldn't take another clean shot. His body was breaking down.

One last push.

Dante came forward for the kill.

Sammy faked a stumble—then lunged in with everything he had.

Dante threw a right hook. Sammy ducked it and threw a devastating right uppercut to the chin.

BOOM.

Dante's head snapped back. His legs wobbled.

Sammy didn't stop.

Left hook. Right hook. Body shot. Another uppercut.

Dante's knees buckled.

Sammy pulled back his right fist one last time.

He stepped in and drilled a final straight right to Dante's jaw.

Dante's body sagged. His eyes rolled back.

He collapsed.

The room went silent.

Then the crowd erupted.

Sammy stood over Dante's unconscious body, his own legs barely holding him up.

He had won.

He had beaten The Butcher.

From the VIP section, Vinnie chuckled, swirling his whiskey. "Well, well. Looks like we've got a new star."

Carlos rushed into the ring, grabbing Sammy before he collapsed. "You did it."

Sammy let out a shaky breath. His vision blurred. His body felt like it had been through hell.

But deep inside, he knew.

This was only the beginning.

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End of Chapter 8