Nick didn't understand why his cousin loathed Cain so much. If it wasn't for Cain, Nick would have found himself out of money, out of luck, and out of college.

"Took toll," Cain had said showing a large wad of real money that was meant to be the event cover charge as he joined Nick in the back warehouse where the counterfeiting machine was. Nick had been churning out Simoleon notes for the past half an hour that was meant to be used to pay the winner for that night and the next. "Also, we have a total of eight contestants tonight."

So, it had started.

More people were hoping to win this money, though unbeknownst to them it was worthless. Nick felt mildly bad on some level that he was essentially cheating people, but they were violent and that gave him some resolve that they probably didn't deserve it if they were willing to resort to brutality to get it.

He'd learned his lesson long ago that fighting wasn't worth it.

Nick gathered up a stack of the fake money and handed it to Cain, exchanging hands with the real stuff to use as the payout. Cain also met with the fighters, and drew for the matches, along with doing something akin to refereeing. Cain was the face of this operation and Nick had no problem with that.

"Are they still going along with those snake names?"

"Black Mamba, Copperhead, Asp, Cottonmouth, and Boa," Cain rattled off the new fighter's aliases.

"Nice, but that's five new fighters," Nick noted "We need an even amount for the matches to line up."

"We have eight because King Cobra didn't come back—I think he had a broken arm from last night. It'd be a mistake to fight while injured like that."

Nick nodded in agreement and they exited through the fire escape and made their way back to the front warehouse where the fighting floor was now established on the second story. Nick loved these old warehouses—they had a sense of mystery and history. He wanted to look through more of the old boxes and desks just to see what kind of stuff the syndicate could have left behind.

The evening grew even darker as they walked across the unmaintained, weedy pavement between the warehouses and Cain broke off to go to the first floor where the fighters were as Nick hauled himself up and climbed the front warehouse’s fire escape. After doing some light climbing, he emerged onto the third floor that overlooked the one below it which was where the fighters would do their thing.


Along with the increase of willing fighters came double the amount of spectators. It wasn't just college-aged kids this time. There were adults from around the city and Nick was in some kind of awe that Cain had predicted this little venture would spread like wildfire.

He scanned the room to see if anyone he knew was in attendance. He recognized some students from the Greek Society. He'd seen them in passing at functions or parties during his time at Hoh Fruhm; Nick briefly tensed, wondering if Marshall Cosgrove was in the vicinity but relaxed when he couldn't find that blond nightmare among the crowd.

Someone with blonde hair did catch his eye though.

It was Tara who was sitting on one of the dingy couches with a few of her sorority sisters. He didn't think she would have been interested in seeing this kind of rough-and-tumble violence. She looked great though in her long blue shirt-dress thing—Nick didn't know which it was but it made her bronze legs look extra long and incredibly sexy. He internally debated whether or not to say something to her, after all, she had seemed offended the last time she saw him on the account that refused to make out with her. He would have loved to if she hadn’t been under the influence of Torporia.

Nick waited on the upper level for Cain to return while ogling his most recent one-night stand and wondering what could have been. After another couple of minutes, the doors to the lift opened below, and two masked fighters exited. He recognized one from the previous night—Boomslang. He was up against one of the new fighters. A moment later the lift squealed open from behind him and Cain sauntered out.

"This is the night to be here," Cain flashed a smile and approached the bars that prevented one from simply walking off the overlook. He sucked in a breath and then shouted the aliases of the fighters below to more excited cheering and applause from the crowd, even Tara and her friends. Cain followed it up with a sharp, loud, whistle that he produced by putting his fingers in his mouth.

The match had started.


Boomslang was fighting a guy about his own height but who had distinctive red hair. Not a deep red like Nick's father or brother but more of an orange-red. Fittingly, he was the one who had picked 'Copperhead' as a fighting alias.

Nick didn't actually like watching fights so he sat back into the musty sofa that had been left behind next to the lift shaft. He took out his phone and scrolled through texts from his parents that he'd left on read and hadn't replied to out of spite, not looking for anything in particular but something for his eyes to focus on while he thought.

If they pulled in as many people tonight as they did for tomorrow's fight night then he'd be clear to pay back legit tuition. The counterfeit money would be in the hands of the most violent of the fighters—so they'd be implicated when banks started to notice the discrepancies. When he had been using the machine, he saw that the note plates were very finely detailed and it was hard to tell a regular simoleon from a fake one—the syndicate must have flooded millions into the economy in their heyday with a machine like that—and who knew if all of it had even been retrieved by the SIRS even two decades later?

Cain whistled again that the first match had ended and declared Copperhead the winner. Boomslang didn't win anything last night either, maybe it was in his best interest to stop trying.

The next match was the Python and the Cottonmouth with the Python taking yet another win. Then there was the Asp and The Anaconda. Nick noticed the crowd cheered louder for The Anaconda in that match. Luck was more on his side this time—for he was called as the winner of the third match. The last fighters for the first round were Black Mamba and Boa.

Cain waved Nick over after the last match in round 1 started. Nick lifted himself off of the sofa and joined Cain's side, leaning over the rail to observe what Cain was keen for him to see. His eyes widened immediately.

"When did we get the Hulk up in here?" Nick wondered. To be fair, the man he was looking at was not green but he was probably one of the largest men Nick had ever seen in person. He was definitely a muscle builder or gym bro of some sort. He wore jeans torn at the knees and a grey beater. His shoes were bright blue.

"That's Black Mamba, and if I was a betting man I'd put all my money on him," Cain replied.

Black Mamba easily beat the Boa—a smaller man who mostly ran around the floor in evasive moves instead of putting up any offense until Black Mamba punched him. Boa fell down for well over the five counts that made his opponent victorious.

The matches didn't last long, they averaged about 10 to 15 minutes before one of the snakes bested the other.

The Anaconda and Python took the floor in the first round 2 match. The fight took a bit longer, and it seemed the Python was losing energy in the way he moved compared to the night before. Ultimately though, the Python came out on top after making a vicious blow with his elbow into the Anaconda’s face which felled him for the five counts needed to win.

When it was time for Black Mamba to go against Copperhead, Nick only watched a few minutes of it before he laid back into the couch, bored-like. He’d had his fill of watching the violence.

"What's wrong? Don't you want to watch the fights?" Cain asked, turning back to observe Nick scrolling through his phone again.

Nick replied with an absent shrug, "It's not really my thing."

Cain let out a sardonic laugh, and joined him on the couch, "You ever been in a fight before?"

"Yeah, kind of," Nick replied, though he hardly had any memory of it. He touched his forehead and could recall the pain though.


"You lost didn’t you?" Cain smirked and Nick flashed a look of annoyance at him.

"I was in the third grade. I was mouthing off and a kid slammed me into a tree trunk so hard that I blacked out," Nick said and Cain's smirk mellowed.

"He gave me a concussion and I had to go to the hospital."

"Oh, sorry man—that sucks."

I probably deserved it, Nick thought.

It was from a time in his life that he'd rather forget because was ashamed of himself when he thought back on it.

He had been a bully—but not the run-of-the-mill tough kid who threatened to get physical; the abuse he had inflicted was always that of a verbal nature. He emulated his father back then, using sharp, cutting words to cause discomfort or embarrassment in those he targeted, and often it would render others laughing at the poor kid caught in Nick's cross-hairs. Nick was usually the subject of his father's underhanded, humiliating words at home and it made him feel powerless, so at school, he had tried to take that back somehow and unfortunately, he had hurt feelings in the process.

Nick couldn't remember what he had said, or what happened directly after the incident. All he could recall was that he had picked out one of the younger kids that the other schoolyard bullies usually targeted to make fun of during a slow recess and then he woke up in the hospital.

Later, his Grams took him aside and told him that the boy who had hurt him had been punished but she was disappointed to learn that Nick had been saying undeserved, awful things about his classmates. Nothing was as effective as a grandmother's crushing disappointment in causing a guilt so heavy that it changed one's behavior. So he stopped using his words as a means to cause pain and instead turned them into something sweet. His grams often said that honey attracted more flies than vinegar and it took Nick another year or two to turn himself around but found out that it was absolutely true—in the form of compliments, funny jokes, and some minor boasting—his words transformed him from a reviled bully to a top of the class charmer.



"Thanks, but it's in the past now," Nick found himself saying in reply.

The crowd collectively made an ‘oooh’ sound and Cain jumped up. Nick couldn’t help but to as well, now curious to see what had happened.

The Copperhead had received a nasty blow into the head, staggered backward into a box and Nick winced. He knew that pain and hoped the guy would be all right. The Copperhead went down and rolled across the floor, gathering dust and probable splinters in his arms and over his clothes.

Nick could see Cain start to silently count to see if Copperhead would stay down.

Though, Copperhead by some miracle gained his footing and delivered a one-two punch at Black Mamba; the blows didn't seem to be doing anything even if they did land. Copperhead was winded and dazed, he wouldn't last much longer.


Cain declared Black Mamba as the winner not less than two minutes later as the Copperhead lay on the flat of his back, blinking back involuntary tears.

"Plumbobs, that was brutal," Nick said in a tone that was close to revealing he couldn't stomach watching people fight like this.

"I can’t wait to see how last night's champion deals with this new guy."

Cain meant Python. Python had surprised them all the night before with his win. It was unexpected considering the mass difference between the final contenders. Python was looking a little haggard in his first two matches, even with that mask covering his face his mannerisms seemed a bit sluggish and unfocused.

"You think Black Mamba will get knocked down?"

"No, look at him—he's a wall! Also, this is personal for Mamba. He told me he was fighting for vengeance."

"Say what?" Nick’s curiosity was piqued.

"Yeah, he's not even interested in the money. Apparently, King Cobra is his brother and told him to come to take his place and avenge him."

"Damn," Nick said and made a low whistle.

They watched Copperhead trudge to the lift and a few minutes later, Python took his place and readied his fists.

"This is going to be quite the match. I bet that even more people will end up coming tomorrow,” Cain noted before shouting out the final competitors and whistling for their fight to start.

Nick wondered if he would have to start explaining his nightly absences to his roommates. "Hey man, do you think we should tell Orion and Cypress what we're doing?"

Cain considered but then shook his head, "It's probably best we didn't. Orion can get really anxious about shit, and considering this is illegal, he'll probably flip out. Cypress would probably narc on us."

"Cypress is cool. He wouldn't turn us in."

"He hates me."

Nick raised his brows; he didn't expect Cain to be perceptive of that. Then again, Cypress kind of made it obvious. He barely spoke a word when Cain was in the vicinity and often ended up just going to his room instead of hanging out with them.

“Maybe you just need to find something in common to talk about,” Nick suggested, “He likes music, and watching soccer, and he hates the cow mascot.”

“Everyone hates the cow mascot,” Cain laughed but then it faded and he seemed to consider Nick’s suggestion. However, that thought was interrupted by the crowd below; they had started to make some very loud noises in reaction to what Black Mamba and Python were up to.

Python was a tall guy, but he seemed so much smaller in comparison to Black Mamba. As soon as Cain made that sharp whistle indicating the match to begin, Mamba charged forward and then it was a few minutes of Python using evasive maneuvers to avoid being thrown across the room.

Just then, Black Mamba pushed his meaty leg out and Python fell over it onto his back. He made an audible 'oomph' that the entire crowd could hear. Mamba snatched Python up by his t-shirt and then punched him straight in the chest, sending him backward with a reckoning force. The crowd went silent.

Python was breathless and tried to stand. Mamba lurched forward and caught his opponent’s face in a right hook. Nick gritted his teeth and inhaled a hiss of sympathy pain.

"By the Great Green Diamond," Cain said under his breath, obviously impressed at the sight of Python crumpling.

"You broke my brother's arm, let's see what I can break in return!" they heard Black Mamba's low grumble as he grabbed Python by his leg, but Python gave an angry shout and twisted around before Mamba got enough momentum to drag him across the floorboards and kicked Mamba in the shoulder with his free leg. It was with enough force that he ripped out Mamba's grasp and it startled the large man but it wasn't long until he was charging again.

Nick should have looked away, he wanted to but now was so transfixed like every other person in the warehouse who was watching.

"Is he limping?" Nick whispered at seeing Python evade the charge and begin to circle with his fists raised. His steps were unbalanced, almost as if he had pulled a muscle in the leg Mamba had grabbed. The crowd was much too interested in seeing what would happen next that they had even stopped cheering—the only sounds heard were the labored breathing of both fighters, the creaking of the floorboards under their weight, and then muffled noises of the city from outside the warehouse walls.

"Yeah, looks like it," Cain confirmed quietly.

Time seemed to drag on as Python considered his options and Mamba waited for him to make a move, wearing down his energy even further.


They watched as in a sudden movement, Python made a step to the right and Black Mamba lurched forward to meet him, but in a deft change of direction, the Python darted left. Before Mamba could turn and track Python’s movement, the leaner fighter ran completely past his giant opponent, leaped up onto a box, and pivoted mid-air to land on Black Mamba's back and wrap his arm around the larger man in a headlock while he delivered a few hard blows to the side of Mamba’s head. Python shouted with rage and held on for dear life as the Black Mamba thrashed about trying to throw him off. It was no use, Python was grasping tightly with his last bit of strength—which was powerful considering who he was using it on.


"Shit," Cain swore after a few moments when they saw Python was not letting go; he ran down the stairs toward the fighting floor.

The Mamba had fallen to his knees and looked to be turning purple.

"Hey stop! Stop before you kill him!" Cain shouted as he ran up to them and the Python eased his hold, allowing Black Mamba to suck in a sharp breath of air.

Cain knelt down to make sure Black Mamba wasn't too damaged from that choke hold. Mamba was breathing heavily and had red marks across his throat where Python had been squeezing.

"You crazy bastard," Cain said, shaking his head while looking up at Python.

Nick noticed something hard and dangerous flash through Python's eyes and for a moment there, he thought Python would make a strike at Cain but instead, he coiled his fists into tight balls, barely showing restraint.

"Fights over!" Cain shouted to everyone who was standing around and staring at the spectacle. Cain stood and held out a hand to Mamba who grabbed it and nearly pulled Cain down before he, himself was standing, still breathing with labor and wincing—generally showing that he was in pain. He slumped off toward the elevator to go down and clean himself up. Nick wondered why Mamba didn’t confront his opponent but then it struck him that Mamba actually feared Python after that move he pulled.

"I won," the Python said matter-of-factly.

"You didn't win, you played dirty and almost choked a guy to death," Cain said as he turned away. True, there were no rules against choke holding but making your opponent nearly pass out from lack of air was definitely frowned upon.

That time, the Python did lash out; his hand grabbed the back of Cain's neck in a vice-like grip with his index finger and thumb set on sensitive pressure points. Cain seemed to freeze in place. Nick started forward, moving quickly down the stairs to meet them and de-escalate the situation.

"I won," the Python stated again, chillingly calm but with an underlying threat aimed at Cain if he should not deliver the promised cash winnings.

"Hey, hey, hey, ” Nick found himself saying as he approached carefully as he would a wild animal. He was always of the opinion that words or money could solve problems—no one needed to resort to violence. He took out a wad of simoleons from his pocket—they were the real Simoleans. He saw Cain's eyes widen but Cain didn't dare shake his head and give Python cause to squeeze even harder.

"I can pay you," Nick insisted, fingering through the amount. There was enough to get the job done. He pulled most of the stack apart and rolled it up before handing it to the guy. For a moment, Nick considered taking him on; Python wasn't much taller and was obviously tired but Nick realized it would have been in vain. He hadn't fought since he was in grade school and he’d be breaking his promise to his Grams, the Diamond above rest her soul, if he raised his fists again.

The Python shoved Cain forward and grabbed the cash out of Nick’s hand before stuffing it in his pocket, "So when's the next fight?"

"You aren't welcome anymore!" Cain bit scathingly, pointing toward the exit "And if you come back you won't be let in."


The Python's eyes roamed around the room to see everyone staring at him in horror and then the intense blue eyes focused back on the two men in front of him. Nick and Cain braced themselves for a fight but then in a move that utterly surprised them both, he turned his back on them without saying another word.

They watched the Python walk away with enough dignity that they could barely tell he was limping. The crowd parted for him, respecting and fearing his raw skill at inflicting harm. These fights weren’t supposed to be pleasant but they weren’t supposed to result in death either.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on Cain's shoulder.

Cain shrugged it off, "I'm fine."

Though Cain didn't seem fine in the least. He looked hassled beyond belief but Nick couldn't fault him as he'd potentially been in a situation where he could have been injured. Cain was going to tell the fighters when the next fight was. They planned for an early one tomorrow night at dusk since there were no classes, then after that one for next Saturday as it was easier to have late-night fights on the weekend. Nick was looking after Cain as he called for the lift, rubbing the back of his neck where the Python had grabbed it.

"Nick?" He heard a lilting voice from behind and turned to see Tara and her friends.

"Hey there, gorgeous," Nick smiled, he had momentarily forgotten she was there too, and immediately turned up the charm, "Didn't think I'd see you in a place like this."

"Yeah well, we heard about this Nest of Vipers fight thing and decided to check it out. Some of the guys from Urele Oresha said they were here last night and it was a decent time. I can't say we were disappointed."

Nest of Vipers. Is that what people were calling it now? He smirked, liking the sound of it.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said and swept a glance around the room. He should probably start telling people about the next one. Some were waiting around for that informational tidbit and it was vital to keep the crowd coming back.

"So, the next one is tomorrow at ten o’clock, you should come and check it out."

Tara eyed him while her friends made some giggling noises he didn't pay full attention to, "So, are you some kind of manager for this thing?"

He shrugged, "I'm not confirming or denying that."

Tara's brows rose in astonishment, "You dumped the Greek Society and now you're organizing fights in shady warehouses—what happened to you, Nick?"

Nick's smile broadened, "Meet me for drinks later and you'll see if I can be persuaded to tell you."

Tara's friends seemed to roll their eyes and groan, half prodding her to leave his sights. They weren't taking his bait but Tara and he had a history...sort of. A brief history. But at least he remembered her name this time.

"Endless Blue Lounge!" he called after her, "Nine-thirty!"

He thought she'd be curious enough to take him up on it but she showed no signs of agreeing to meet him as she was pulled along by her sorority sisters toward the exit. His suspicion panned out to be correct though when she turned her head back and gave him a knowing wink.

It was a date.