Viral

A torrential downpour is unseasonal for this time of the year. Dorian has the engine running for the air conditioning. His Ford Escape's windshield wipers are working overtime even though they are just parked.

Marcus scrolls through something on his phone and proceeds to set it in his lap.

Marcus SheppardThat's it, that's all of them.

Dorian KnoxThe invites?

Marcus SheppardYep.

Dorian KnoxRat's network is…so fuckin' weird. How is he so connected?

Marcus SheppardHe's one of six brothers, and his dad is one of 7 sons. His grandfather was a heavy gambler and a bookie himself. It's so ingrained in them that it's basically genetic.

Dorian laughs and leans forward to turn off the windshield wipers.

Dorian KnoxHe told me he's got three of his brothers and four of his uncles out there finding people and so far every one they've sent me video of, barring maybe one or two, looks incredible.

He pulls out his own phone, scrolls to a particular video in his camera roll, and turns it sideways toward Marcus. Marcus watches about four seconds of it and makes a noise that isn't entirely in agreement.

Marcus SheppardAnd you think they're really going to hop in a plane, train, bus, or car to travel to Dallas to fight in hopes of getting paid to fight by a group of random people they've never met?

Dorian KnoxWe've already got five guaranteed. Another three who are local. Honestly more than I expected to start our first Calling.

Marcus SheppardThat's fair. How much do you know about the local guys?

Dorian KnoxTwo guys and a woman, actually. Not a ton, but from what I have seen or been told, they'll hold their own just fine. Diane scares the shit out of me. She's that nurse from Baylor Scott & White in Plano I told you about. Rat's brother Darrell got in touch with her. Saw her wailing on a heavy bag at Crunch Fitness last week. He said he imagines anyone getting an IV stuck in from her might feel like they got stabbed with a butter knife. Apart from that, maybe we can convince the winners tonight to come back for the Calling after they get a taste of victory and some extra money in their pockets.

Marcus SheppardSo how many are you expecting tonight?

Dorian shrugs and drops his phone into the cupholder.

Dorian KnoxHard to say. Tried to get the word out, but 6 hours notice isn't much. Four, maybe five fighters? Not looking for much. Just checking for additional talent before we officially get rolling on the 1st.

Marcus doesn't say anything for a second. He looks out at the shed, at the rain coming through it sideways.

Marcus SheppardAren't you worried we're going to run into some folks with ill intentions when they find out what's being passed around? $1,000 on the line just for a singles fight, whatever we take at the gate at $30 a head, and whatever Rat pulls in? We're potentially staring at 10G's in the room.

Dorian KnoxSo what, we just don't do it? You know we need this, too.

Marcus SheppardThat's not what I'm saying at all man. Just…maybe we need some muscle.

Dorian KnoxYeah, we got Derrick.

Marcus SheppardOne guy?

Dorian turns in his seat to face him.

Dorian Knox……and a room with a bunch of motherfuckers that are willing to fight for their money. You think somebody is gonna try and walk in and jack someone up like they won't get their shit wrecked by everyone else in the room?

Marcus opens his mouth, closes it. Then fixes his faces to show that he understands.

Marcus Sheppard…….fair point I guess. We just gotta be weary, man. What we're doing isn't exactly going to attract the Boy Scouts. Enough bad characters can cause problems. Problems that would encourage people to not come back the next time.

Dorian KnoxUnderstood, man, I get it. I really do. We'll take all the precautions we need to. We've still got time to put those into place. Let's head up there.

Knox kills the engine. 

Marcus SheppardOf all days man, THIS rain?

Dorian KnoxYeah…come on.

Marcus and Dorian exit the car with haste, throw their jackets above their heads, and begin a brisk jog towards the shed in the downpour.

Marcus shouts over the sound of the rain crashing all around.

Marcus SheppardI’m not a superstitious guy, but I sure hope this isn’t an omen of some kind!

As they approach the shed they see a group of spectators waiting outside. A car is pulled up close enough to shine their headlights into it.

Calling this a shed is…generous. It’s a 20x20 slab of concrete with a roof and open siding with pillars in each corner but the front left. Could’ve been enclosed at one point, but for now, it’s the perfect spot. Sawdust coats the floor as stacks of tarp-covered timber line the back and right sides of the area. A stack of plywood leaning up right in the corner as well. 

It’s just outside of Dallas in a small town called Balch Springs. Open land, trailer parks, and Church’s Chickens. That’s the vibe. Spots like this a good half a mile away from anything aren’t exactly rare. It’s the perfect spot for an hour of unsanctioned bloodsport.  

The shed’s roof is providing enough coverage so that nobody is getting soaked, but it’s definitely going to make things interesting. The sawdust is soaking in the water like a sponge and clumping up all over.

Dorian Knox Gentlemen. Ma’am.

He greets the spectators, drenched, hands in their pockets but everyone is still eager to see what’s going down.

Marcus Sheppard Thanks for coming, everyone. Before we get started we ne—wait, are the competitors here?

A grunt and a hand raises from the back. A mid-40’s man with forearms nearly the size of Marcus’ thigh makes his way to the front.

Ray BolandI’m Ray.

Cody RennerAnd I’m Cody! 

Everyone’s gaze quickly snaps to the side at the most unexpected tone of voice to see a young man, most likely in his early to mid-20’s in a full Adidas tearaway windbreaker.

Oh.

And he just tore it off. He’s standing there in full gear. Boots, Knee pads, trunks, wrist tape, gloves, mouthguard, elbow pads, the works. Only thing missing is the—

Oh.

He turns around and grabs his Venum Challenger Headgear for protection.  

Everyone can’t help but laugh, but his stature isn’t something to make jokes about. He’s very athletic and looks the part. His voice and demeanor are a sound and sight to behold.

Dorian Knox Cody. Ray. Nice to see you. So…do we have rules on headgear Marcus?

A few more chuckles move throughout the crowd.

Marcus SheppardWe haven’t exactly established that. Ray. You good with it?

Ray grunts accompanied with a shrug the show he couldn’t care less.

Dorian KnoxAlright then.

Cody punches in air in excitement and squeezes it over his bleach blonde hair.

Nate Fisk I’m Nate.  

Dorian and Marcus turn around to see Nate Fisk sitting on a bucket in the corner alone, taping his wrists. Looking entirely unbothered.

Marcus SheppardHey Nate, nice to meet you. Do we know if Viktor is here yet? Viktor?

Dorian Knox I can tell you now, no. You’d know it if he was here.  

A quizzical look passes through the faces in the group, unsure of what that means.

Dorian KnoxAlright, so first things first. These four men are going to fight for invites to one of our upcoming Callings. A loss doesn’t mean you won’t be invited, but if we don’t see anything that makes us believe it’s something you can handle, for your safety we will opt to no longer reach out to you. Otherwise, just put on a good fight and the rest will take care of itself.

Marcus SheppardWe’re still drafting some things up, but until we can get some NDA’s in place, the only thing we can do right now is to take your phones from you. Talking about ICON is one thing. Showing others can put us in a world of hurt, alright? If you want to continue to come out, this needs to solely be a word of mouth situation. And be incredibly careful who you’re talking to. Nate, would you mind?

Marcus gestures to the bucket Nate was sitting on. He stands up, grabs the bucket and flips it towards Marcus, spattering him with rain that’s flown off it. The echo of the metal rings but quickly dissipates with the surrounding noise and nothingness around. Marcus bends down to pick it up.  

Marcus SheppardNow Dorian is going to go around and take your names and your $20 to watch. I know it may feel like you shouldn’t pay to stand in the rain and watch a fight, but we’re the ones at-risk for facilitating things. Please show him your ID as well. I’m going to go behind him and have you put your phone in this bucket. We’ll keep ‘em dry under these tarps, so don’t worry. We just can’t have you using them while you’re here. In the future, you can just leave ‘em in your vehicle.

Dorian goes one by one across the crowd with Marcus behind. He comes across an old lady, mid to late-60s, with whom we can only assume (and hope) is her son, as he’s got his arm around her. She hands him her ID and $40.  

Dorian KnoxGertrude Evans. Now ma’am, I’ve got to ask. Did you get roped into coming out here and paying for your son?

She laughs, the age showing in the rasp of her voice.

Gertrude EvansBelieve it or not I used to fight back in my day. My daughter told me about this. She doesn’t want me here, but I’d rather be here than sitting at home watching whatever’s on TV. I don’t much like to read, either.

Dorian Knox Well I’m glad you’re here ma’am. And this must be your so—

BarrettI’m Barrett, nice to meet you.

Dorian KnoxHey Barrett. She’s got you paid for. Just need to see your ID.

BarrettI’m sorry, I left it at home. I didn’t realize I’d need it. That’s the reason she’s paid for me, you know?

Dorian sees he’s a little embarrassed. He hangs his head a bit. His hoodie is soaked and rain is still dripping off of his Ray-Ban eyeglasses. The young adult wipes them clear and looks back up at Dorian. Knox takes a second to think it over. He turns around and checks with Marcus. Marcus shrugs it off.

Dorian Knox All good Barrett.  

Marcus approaches Gertrude and Barrett, last in line. He grabs their cell phones and places them in the bucket. Dorian and Marcus walk back to the tarp-covered corner and place down the bucket. Dorian stashes away roughly $300 in cash in his money clip and pockets it.

Dorian Knox Fighters, you know the deal we discussed. $200 to fight. Winner walks with 75%, loser with 25%. Splits even if a draw or no-contest.

Nate and Ray walk up to Dorian and hand them their cash.

Marcus Sheppard Cody? Cody…? YO CODY!

Cody is nodding his head and moving his body to the beat of a song in his ear buds underneath his headgear.

The whole crowd gestures at Cody with their arms. He returns the gesture back to them as if it’s some call and response dance. A man from the group walks over and pulls the headgear away from his ear.

Man They need your money.

Cody OH! My bad, my bad! Let me get these out of my ear. Just getting hyped up. Here you go.

Cody hands Dorian a stack of 1’s and 5’s with a couple 10’s snuck in…and four quarters.

Dorian looks down in his hand and shakes his head and has to laugh. He begins counting.

Dorian Knox190, 195, ..96, ..97, ..98, …99… 199.25, .50, .75, $200. We’re all set.

He stashes the rest away.

Dorian KnoxWhile we await for Viktor to arrive, we’ll get started with Ray and Cody. You two ready?

They both nod. Cody stands there shadowboxing. Ray stands with his arms crossed, silently judging his opponent.

Marcus Sheppard Alright. The fight ends via knockout, submission, or if you just say you can’t go anymore. Step up.

The spectators look on, some having a hard time watching Ray slowly come back. Nobody is rushing anything, but it’s immediately obvious how serious this can all become in a blink of an eye.

Dorian Knox If any of you thought for a moment that this was going to be some slap fight between two guys, I hope you understand now.

Dorian makes his way to Marcus and Ray to help the fallen up to his feet.

Marcus Sheppard You alright big man?

Ray bends over, hands on his knees, spitting out blood from the cut he got when he bit his lip crashing to the ground.

Ray Boland Money.

Dorian Knox Huh?

Ray stands up.

Ray Boland My fucking money.

Dorian Knox Oh, right right.

Handing someone less than they came into this feels like such a risk. The weight of handing him half of what he paid for puts Dorian on edge. But Ray snatches it without even looking at the amount. He lightly shoves Marcus off of him as he stumbles out of the shed under his own power. He wobbles his way back to his work truck, the crowd watching each uneasy step. He makes it into his truck, starts it and pulls away. As quick as he left, a new vehicle fills that spot.

The truck’s headlights slice through the heavy rain, blasting through the side of the shed and throwing shadows against the wet sawdust. The engine is idling as the battered Ford F-150 sits in the mud.

The driver's door slams open, nailing the passenger side door of the car next to him.

Car Owner HEY MAN! What the fuck, dude!

Viktor Malek steps out of the truck into the rain. Completely unaware of the shouting man, not that he’d care. He’s six-foot-three and built like a god damned brick wall. Shirtless and scarred up. His face looks like it was carved out of granite, eyes dead and focused. 

Car Owner Shit, nevermind…

The air under the shed shifts almost instantly. Whatever murmurs from Cody’s finish disappear completely and with a swiftness. Gertrude steps back half a foot, Barrett catching her shoulder as she moves, while the spectators near the timber stacks clear a wide path without being asked. They probably wouldn’t have been asked anyways.

Viktor doesn't even look at Cody who is still dealing with his hurt ribs near the plywood. He doesn't look at Dorian either. Instead he scans around the area with overall indifference until his gaze locks onto the man leaning against the pillar diagonal of him.

Nate Fisk is still there, his boots laced tight, wrists wrapped up in clean white tape, with a two-thirds-eaten ham sandwich resting on top of his black metal lunchbox he brought from his shift at the warehouse that he never had time to eat. Nate doesn't flinch even the slightest under Malek’s stare. He doesn’t even bother to meet the intimidation Malek is outputting. He simply takes another slow bite, calmly chews and swallows, while he watches Viktor approach the slab like it’s just another guy stepping onto the warehouse loading dock.

Malek continues to walk straight past the library-silent crowd, stopping less than an inch from Marcus. Malek reaches into his pants pocket, grips a tight roll of cash, peels out two crisp hundred-dollar bills and pushes them directly into Marcus’ chest.

Viktor Malek Let's fucking go already. 

His voice in a deep, raspy growl.

Marcus fumbles them but catches the bills, looks down at the money, then trades a glance with Dorian.

Across the shed, Nate slams the rest of his sandwich and licks the mayonnaise off his thumb. He stands up, rolls his shoulders once, and steps out into the wet sawdust to meet Malek face to face.

Marcus Sheppard kneels in the sawdust, pulling the cell phones out of the metal bucket to hand back to the spectators. He hands Gertrude Evans her phone first.

Gertrude smiles up at Marcus as if to say thank you with a grin. She slips the phone into her purse and walks out toward a white Buick sedan parked near the front of the lot. Almost as if it was a handicap spot. Just behind her, Marcus hands Barrett his phone next. Barrett takes it with a quiet nod, face still low, and turns toward the opposite side of the lot. He begins heading straight for a beat-up Honda Civic parked by the tree line.

Marcus stops and watches the two sets of taillights turn in opposite directions onto the dark road.

They didn't come together??

He remembers Barrett letting the old lady pay for him. That he claimed he forgot his ID, acting like her son. Marcus stands motionless for a moment, clocking the lie, but the rain slaps him across the face and Dorian calls for him from the shed.

Dorian KnoxMarcus! Help me clear the gate money before the roof gives out! This rain is crazy!

Marcus shakes his head, turns his back on the road, and jogs quickly back towards Dorian. Probably just an eager kid lying to get into a fight. Nothing to worry about. Right?

The aftermath of it all is quick. It seems like within less than ninety seconds of getting their possessions back, the shed is almost entirely empty, but the silence has definitely broken. Everyone is abuzz and chattering about the events that transpired tonight.

Viktor drags himself out of the clumpy sawdust, holding his useless left arm against his ribs. He refuses any help from Knox or Sheppard. 

He makes his way to his truck. Malek climbs into his F-150 and slams the freshly dented door shut. He tears out of the mud, his tires spitting wet gravel in their wake.

Marcus waves and shouts at the truck.

Marcus Sheppard VIKTOR! YOUR MONEY!

The truck never stops and the taillights disappear into the night.

Marcus SheppardI guess that’s $100 extra in our pockets.

Dorian KnoxI’d say we hang onto that for a bit. A man that size and that angry? I imagine he could realize and come looking for it…angrier.

Everyone finds their way to their cars and heads home for the night.

Maybe just three miles down the road, Barrett pulls his Civic into the empty parking lot of a closed gas station. He leaves the windshield wipers beating back and forth.

He removes his wet Ray-Bans from his face and connects them to his phone via Bluetooth. The app lights up on his screen, buffering for about four seconds before the local storage syncs up.

And voila. There it is. 1080p, crisp 60fps video, almost perfectly framed.

The footage shows the brutal grit of the she and the 240-pound Viktor Malek screaming in the mud.

Barrett opens an app hidden deep inside an encrypted folder on his device.

DEAD AIR

It’s a dark-web media outlet in a pitch black interface. No algorithm filters, no content moderation, no takedown requests. Raw, unmonetized underground feeds for people who pay to see things that aren't supposed to exist.

He creates a fresh post under his burner handle, V1s10n4ry.

His caption is simple. 

No refs. No cameras. Somewhere just outside of Dallas.

Barrett attaches the file, hits confirm, and watches the progress bar tick to 100%.

Uploaded.

He connects his phone to his car’s bluetooth and punk rock music kicks in at a level that no human should ever listen to music at. A huge grin appears on his face as he puts his car into gear, and drives off into the night, completely and utterly unaware of the fuse he just lit under Dorian Knox's world.