The Unseen Face

The lights burned hot overhead, the roar of the crowd pulsing through the underground arena like a living thing. The energy in the air was suffocating, thick with sweat, money, and bloodlust.

Jax stood just outside the ring, rolling his shoulders, trying to drown out the noise.

This was it. He had fought a hundred times before. He had broken bones, spilled blood, pushed his body beyond what should have been possible. But this?

This wasn't just a fight. This was survival. Across the ring, Leon Vargas stood still, his head lowered, shifting from foot to foot like a caged animal. Vargas was bigger, stronger, and completely unfazed by the chaos around them. The man had been built for destruction.

Jax knew what was coming. Vargas wouldn't waste time. He'd tear through Jax like a wrecking ball. And Romano?

Romano was watching. The bell rang. Ding. The fight started. Jax circled Vargas immediately, staying light on his feet, keeping his hands up. He couldn't go punch for punch with a man like Vargas.

Vargas grinned. He knew it too. The first punch came fast. A left hook like a hammer swinging through the air.

Jax barely slipped it, feeling the wind cut past his face. Too close. Vargas followed up, closing the distance, throwing a right that slammed against Jax's forearm. The impact rattled through his entire body.

Jax staggered back, resetting. The crowd screamed for blood. Romano was seated ringside, watching with cold amusement.

Vargas laughed. "You can run, Mercer, but you can't hide." Jax shook out his hands. "Who's hiding?" Vargas lunged.

Jax ducked just in time. He threw a quick jab, catching Vargas on the chin—just enough to sting, not enough to hurt.

Vargas smirked. "That all you got?" Jax didn't answer. He had a plan. He just had to survive long enough to use it.

The first round. Vargas pressed forward, keeping Jax on the defensive. Every punch felt like a battering ram. Jax blocked what he could and dodged when he had to, but there was no stopping the storm.

Then—a mistake. Vargas overextended. Just for a second. Jax moved. A sharp hook to the ribs. Then a quick uppercut. The impact cracked against Vargas's jaw, snapping his head back.

The crowd roared. Vargas staggered. Just a little. Jax didn't let up. He stepped in, landing a brutal shot to the liver.

Vargas grunted, his face twisting in pain. Jax backed off, breathing hard. He knew better than to stay in close. Vargas was dangerous when cornered.

Vargas wiped blood from his mouth. His eyes darkened. "Alright, Mercer." Jax barely had time to react.

Vargas exploded forward. A right hook slammed into Jax's ribs. His vision blurred. Then—left to the temple, Jax's legs buckled. The world tilted. Get up. Move.

Jax stumbled back, shaking off the impact. Too much damage this early, and he was done. The bell rang.

Between rounds, Jax sat in his corner, blood trickling from his mouth. His ribs felt broken. Mason leaned in. "Jax. You gotta change something."

Jax spit blood onto the mat. "I know." Mason wiped Jax's face with a towel, voice urgent. "Romano's watching. You see him?"

Jax's eyes flicked to the ringside. Romano was there, sitting still, expression unreadable.

Mason whispered. "He's waiting for something." Jax exhaled. "I know." I just don't know what." The bell rang.

In the second round; Vargas came in fast. Jax dodged the first punch, weaving left—but the second one caught him clean in the ribs. Pain exploded through his body.

He backed up, trying to get space. Vargas smirked. "Gotta say, Mercer. You're lasting longer than I thought." Jax steadied himself. "You talk too much." Vargas swung.

Jax saw it coming. He ducked, pivoted—and drove a vicious elbow into Vargas's ribs. Vargas grunted, but Jax wasn't done. He followed up with a brutal right hook.

The crowd roared as Vargas stumbled. Romano leaned forward slightly. Jax backed up, breathing hard. His body felt like hell. But Vargas?

Vargas was pissed. "You wanna play rough, huh?" Vargas growled. Jax barely had time to move.

Vargas grabbed him—and slammed a knee into his stomach. Jax's world collapsed inward. Pain.

Vargas shoved him back, throwing a devastating uppercut. Jax's head snapped back. He hit the mat.

The count began; The ref started counting.

"One… two… three…" Jax's ears rang. His vision blurred. Get up. Move.

"Four… five…" Jax gritted his teeth. He rolled to his side, forcing himself up. "Six… seven…" He reached for the ropes. His body screamed.

"Eight…" Jax exhaled sharply. He pushed to his feet. "Nine." The ref checked him—then waved for the fight to continue. The crowd erupted.

Vargas grinned. "Still breathing, huh?" Jax wiped blood from his mouth. "More than you."

Jax circled Vargas, trying to clear his head. Something was wrong. Vargas was too confident. Jax scanned the crowd—and that's when he saw it.

A man near Romano. Slipping something to the ref. Jax's stomach twisted. The fight is rigged.

Vargas swung. Jax dodged, but his mind was racing. They're not letting me walk out of this. The bell rang.

Jax sat in his corner, every muscle screaming. Mason leaned in, voice urgent. "Something's wrong."

Jax's breathing was shallow. "I know." Mason's face was pale. "They just paid off the ref." Jax exhaled. "Yeah." Silence.

Mason's voice was tight. "Jax. You don't just need to win. You need to end this." Jax looked across the ring at Vargas. The man was grinning.

He wasn't worried. Because he thought the fight was already decided. Jax clenched his jaw. Not tonight.