"Okay, you can take the blindfold off."

Tony heard the man's voice and knew it was different from that of the kid who waved him over to the alley 15 minutes earlier.

"Hey, stud, wanna make some money?" the street-wise punk had said.

"With you?" Tony asked, giving the kid's well-worn clothes a dubious look.

"Nah, not with me! Over at the club! The Gladiator's Club. You'd be one of the gladiators, see? Two hundred bucks and all you have to do is win a fight! You can do that easy with them muscles, cant ya, stud?"

The kid tapped on Tony's chest in emphasis. The 18-year-old looked down and considered his body. The cut-off shirt he had worn when he'd stormed out of his home for good at the start of the summer now stretched tightly over his hardened pecs and shoulders, a testament to the heavy lifting of his warehouse job. The ragged bottom of the T-shirt now barely covered his chest and revealed tightened stomach muscles. Maybe the moves he used in the brutal fight that just lost him his job but won him back his pride could come in handy after all.

"And what if I lose the fight?" he asked the kid.

"Then you still get $50. Bare-knuckles, no-holds-barred and to the finish- it don't end until the winner decides to stop. It's like a cock fight, only more blood. There's betting, too. Whaddya say?"

Tony considered the kid and his own hungry stomach. With nowhere to go and nothing to do, he figured he had nothing to lose.

"Okay. Let's do it," he said as he tied his long black main into a pony tail. The kid had led him to an abandoned, rusting factory, through locked doors and down multiple flights of stairs. As the two got closer, Tony could hear the muffled sounds of a shouting crowd, the smell of sweat and smoke and an ever-increasing heat.

The two were stopped at a heavy iron door by a beefy punk rocker in a leather vest with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. His hands toyed with a baseball bat as he took stock of Tony. After a long stare at Tony's tight jeans, the punk smiled and held open the heavy door as the two passed by. "Good luck, stud," the punk muttered while winking at Tony, who answered with a warning glare.

After a few more corridors, the two stepped into the office of a tough looking kid in his 20s with a scar under his right eye. He regarded each part of Tony's body with the cool eye of a horse trader. All he needed was a kid to put up a good fight and this young stallion's body might even last more than a couple of minutes against the club's brutal 19-year-old blonde champion, the equally muscled fighter known as Viper. "

Can you fight?" the manager asked checking the night's lineup of fighters.

"Put a guy in the hospital last week," Tony said arrogantly. "Good. You're up next. Warm up with the weights in there. You'll be known as Stallion. You'll fight Viper."

The alley kid gasped. "Whaddya kiddin'?! I just brought this kid in from the street! You wanna put him in the final four matches and lose him the first night?!"

The manager casually glanced over at Tony for reaction. Tony pulled off the muscle shirt and crumpled it into the back pocket of his tattered jeans.

"Bring him on," Tony said with smirk. A faint smile crossed the manager's lips.

"Well, all right, kid. Kick his ass." He glanced at the alley kid. "Give this fight a big sell, Weasel. It might be a good one."

At that moment, the muffled shouts of the crowd reached a deafening crescendo. The sound quickly died down as Tony, now Stallion, headed for the weight room in his jeans and boots, his muscular chest and stomach bare.

After pulling off his boots and socks at Weasel's request, he lifted up two heavy hand weights. As he began pumping, young men and teenage boys began filling the hallway outside the weight room. Amid excited shouting, Stallion looked out to a passing gurney and saw a boy about his own age writhing and moaning, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Stallion slowed the pumping of his arms until the gurney passed, then began pumping with new vigor and concentration, his biceps and chest muscles straining at the weight and his jaw set in an angry clench.

Minutes later, Weasel leaned into the workout room and saw Stallion's muscular young body glistening with sweat from the workout. As the two headed down the hall towards the arena, Weasel threw a white silk cape around Stallion's neck.

"You're the good guy," Weasel said with a smile.

"We'll see," answered Stallion.

The two entered a small arena packed with ragged, tough-looking young men shouting out bets on the upcoming fight. The wooden bleachers surrounded a small, 15 X 15-foot pit, sunken about 10 feet below the bottom bleachers. The wall of the pit was rough wood, the floor mud.

As Stallion and Weasel neared the pit's edge, the boys' voices lowered to a murmer as they sized up the new fighter. Stallion remained indifferent to the attention as he followed Weasel's lead as the kid climbed over the pit's edge and down a rope ladder. Stallion�s bare feet landed on the pit's floor with a muddy slap. He turned to take in the pit, estimating distances and planning his movement strategy.

Applause and cheering erupted from the crowd. Stallion looked up into the bleachers to see a stocky blond boy entering the arena wearing bright red spandex biker shorts which reached his knees. A red silk cape was tied around his neck. The smirking blonde stopped to take in the scene, placing his hands on his hips. The movement caused the silk rope to open, revealing hardened pecs and stomach muscles. Stallion saw that in the center of the boy's rippled ab muscles was a large tattoo of a viper about to strike.

Stallion glanced upwards to see Viper's eyes locked on his, his menacing smirk frozen in place. Viper walked down the aisle to the pits edge, his eyes still locked with those of his opponent. Less than halfway down the rope ladder, Viper leapt off, landing solidly on his feet, his muscled back to Stallion. With a coy turn of his head, he looked back at his opponent for a moment, the move bringing a smattering of laughter and applause from the crowd. Stallion watched with narrowed eyes, his arms motionless but tensed at his side.

With a quick movement, Viper turned and moved quickly, panther-like and steady towards Stallion, the crowd cheering its approval. Stallion moved forward, bringing the crowd to a frenzy. Weasel ran to stand between the two as they stopped inches from each in the center of the pit. The two fighters glared at each other, Viper's smirk intact as he loudly chewed at a wad of gum. Stallion now noticed the tough beauty of his opponent's face, past bouts having left a broken nose and reddened flesh around the eyes, evidence of previous swelling.

"Wrap up your bets, gentlemen," shouted Weasel. Then, in a voice meant for the fighters, "Weapons check, gentlemen. Remove your capes." Eyes locked, Viper untied the red silk cape with one hand as Stallion ripped his off in a flash.

"Hair," Weasel said. Viper reached back and slowly pulled off a red silk sash, causing his blond mane to fall around his shoulders and chest. Stallion reached back and roughly pulled off the leather strap holding back his rough, black mane and handed it to Weasel.

Weasel lowered to his knees and patted the legs of Stallion's jeans. The boy turned to repeat the motion on Viper's skin-tight spandex. As he began, Viper's glare shot downward, his smirk disappearing. With a small, sharp motion, his knee connected with Weasel's chest, sending the boy backwards into the mud.

Instantly, Stallion leapt forward, the bare pecs of the fighters slapping together as flesh met flesh. As the crowd screamed its approval, Stallion held a clump of Viper's hair as both fighters drew back fists, but Weasel was instantly between the two, pushing them back and forcing an end to the clench.

"Geez, in a minute boys," Weasel said. "Move apart until your backs are touching the walls." As the fighters obeyed, Weasel ran to one of a rope ladder and scrambled up quickly. At the top, he turned and nodded at another kid across the pit. Both ladders were drawn up, leaving the fighters no escape.

As Stallion and Viper continued their stare down from opposite ends of the pit, Weasel shouted out, "Gentlemen! The Fight Pit is pleased to bring you the first of four elimination bouts to determine its first bareknuckles champion!"

The crowd roared its approval as Weasel looked down upon the two pit fighters. "In the black jeans, weighing in at 194 pounds of pure muscle, Stallion!" The crowd jeered as Stallion contined glaring at his opponent.

"To my left, his opponent in red, a veteran of two Fight Pit bouts, weighing in at 190 pounds of pure mean, Viper!" The crowd cheered as Viper stood motionless, smirking.

"Fighters- only one of you will climb out of the pit! You are asked to remember pit rules: no mercy and may the more brutal fighter win! Begin combat!"

The two muscular young gladiators instantly raised their fists and began a slow, cautious circling as the crowd roared its approval. Each fighter's leg brushed its twin as the two opponents moved closer in an ever-decreasing circle.

As the two entered striking distance, Viper jutted out his chin and slammed his fist against his muscled chest in a smirking taunt. Instantly, Stallion's left fist flew out in an arch and landed with a slapping thud into the two mounds of muscle that was Viper's chest. Viper reacted to the opening blow by bearing his teeth in a death-head grimace.

Stallion responded with a quick right fist aimed at Viper's nose, but the seasoned young fighter snapped his head back, Stallion's fist connecting only lightly. Viper leapt lightly backwards, fists raised.

The boys continued their circling. In a flash, Viper's left foot swept out in an arc, slamming into stallion's inner thigh. As Stallion's fists instinctively lowered, Viper threw his weight behind his right fist, his naked torso twisting as the fist smashed hard into Stallion's right eye.

The blow snapped Stallion's head to the side and sent the dark-haired young fighter sailing backwards, his body slamming hard against the rough wooden wall before crashing forward onto the dirt floor.

Stallion instinctively cupped his damaged eye with his hands and tried to shake away the pain and disorientation as he raised himself to a kneeling position. But as he prepared to stand, Viper ran forward, putting his weight into a savage kick to Stallion's chest.

With the slapping sound of flesh-on-flesh, the injured young fighter's torso snapped backwards, again slamming Stallion in the wall and bouncing him forward into the mud with a wet slap. Viper, grinning and howling, raised his arms in triumph to an adoring crowd, flexing his muscles as he strutted to the other side of the pit. Stallion, grimacing over the explosion of pain, slowly tried to raise his upper body but slipped back down, coughing and gasping for air. His second attempt drew him to his knees and, gripping the wall for support, unsteadily to his feet. Stallion's face and chest were covered in mud, his proud black mane caked with dirt as it fell in muddy clumps around his shoulders.

As Stallion raised his fists and stumbled slowly forward, Viper turned and regarded his foe with an angry grimace before turning and moving forward, fists raised. As the young fighters neared to within inches of each other, the life seemed to leave Stallion's body as he twisted his torso to the left, his eyes locked on Viper. Before Viper could respond, Stallion sent his right elbow flying out in an arch towards Viper's right eye. Viper again drew his face back, Stallion's elbow only glancing the teen's right temple.

Viper instantly gut-punched Stallion's rippled stomach with a solid left uppercut. Stallion grunted as the punch connected. Viper responded instantly with a second savage blow to the stomach, sending Stallion stumbling back. Viper moved forward, his fist again flashed out, grazing the retreating Stallion's nose.

The two musceled teens resumed their deadly, dance-like circling as the crowd began to stamp its feet onto the metal bleachers in unison. A low growl began in Stallion's throat that slowly grew in intensity. Reaching a full battle howl, Stallion charged forward, his right elbow jutting forward, crashing into Viper's chest with a thud. The collision took Viper off guard. As he stumbled backward in an attempt to regain his footing, Stallion punched Viper in the face with an arching fist which snapped the gladiator's head to the side and sent him crashing limply backwards into the pit wall. Stallion stopped two feet away from his enemy as a dazed Viper tried to shake off the stun of the blow, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Stallion crouched down, grabbing a fistful of Viper's thick blond hair and lifting him to his feet by it. Stallion drew his right arm far back, his chest muscles rippling with the effort. But before the young gladiator could deliver his final blow, Viper�s chest and arm muscles tensed, then launched a fist into Stallion's red and swollen right eye

Stallion screamed hoarsely as he stumbled backward covering the right side of his damaged face with both hands. Viper leapt forward off the wall and into a crouch, muscles tensed, jaw set as he sized-up his retreating, wounded prey. In the next instant, Viper used all the strength in his muscled legs to race forward and launch himself feet first.

Like a tornado snapping a tree in two, Viper's feet slammed full-force into Stallion's stomach, sending the young fighter's body flying backwards like a crumpled doll.

Viper landed on his back, sliding forward in the mud as Stallion's limp body slammed into the splintering wall and fell face-first onto the dirt floor. After a moment's silence, the arena shook as the crowd screamed their approval.

Viper shook his head and slowly and rose to his feet, his back scraped and bleeding from the muddy slide. Unsteadily, he looked about the pit before seeing the Stallion's sprawled form on the ground below. Viper blinked twice, then, as recognition of his victory sank in, raised muscled arms into the air and howled his victory cry to the crowd as he turned full-circle to acknowledge their cheers.

Stallion slowly began writhing in a vain attempt to raise himself up, blood trickling from his mouth. Noticing the struggling of the downed fighter, Viper slowly walked up before Stallion's downed form and regarded him with disgust. The crowd silenced.

Grabbing his defeated opponent�s hair, Viper roughly dragged Stallion up into a sitting position against the wall. Viper lowered to a crouch, raising his hands above his head to reveal nails sharpened into slicing claws. As the screams of the crowd grew to a deafening roar, Viper slashed both hands downward over Stallion's chest and stomach. Viper rose as ten thin lines of blood formed a "V" on the writhing Stallion's torso.

With a heave of his muscled chest, Viper spat hard on his defeated foe and walked proudly to the lowering rope ladder on the far side of the pit.