Vent_4574

Sammy "The Ghost" Davis is a boxer in a world that doesn't respect boxers. In the chaotic underground fight scene, where grapplers, kickboxers, and street brawlers dominate, he's seen as nothing more than an easy win. But Sammy refuses to be a stepping stone. With sharp footwork, precise punches, and a growing arsenal of dirty tactics, he fights to carve out his place in a world where only the ruthless survive.

As the stakes rise and every fight becomes more dangerous, Sammy must prove that even an underdog can be a nightmare in the ring.

Ghost in the Underground

Chapter 7: The Butcher's Reputation

The folder felt heavier in Sammy's hands than it should have. He stared at the photo inside, Dante Moreno's scarred face frozen in a cold, predatory glare.

Carlos exhaled sharply when he saw the name. "Shit."

Rick let out a low whistle. "Vinnie's not wasting time. You must've really impressed him."

Sammy flipped through the papers—fight records, medical reports, crime reports. Dante's history wasn't just violent. It was brutal.

Record: 32-0 (Street Fights & Underground)

Carlos ran a hand over his face. "I've seen him fight. He doesn't win—he destroys. Breaks guys down piece by piece. Even when they quit, he keeps going."

Sammy kept reading. "Is he a boxer?"

Rick shook his head. "Nah. Kickboxing and some Judo. But he's mean. He doesn't just hit hard—he makes you suffer."

Carlos looked at Sammy. "You don't just need to win. You need to survive."

Vinnie watched them from across the room, amused. "Like what you see?"

Sammy closed the folder. "You want me to fight a guy like this?"

Vinnie smirked. "I want to see if you can handle him."

Carlos crossed his arms. "And if he kills him?"

Vinnie shrugged. "Then that's the game, isn't it?"

Sammy clenched his jaw. "What do I get if I win?"

Rick scoffed. "You're gonna need to do better than that, old man."

Vinnie chuckled. "Fine. You win, and I'll make sure you get the real fights. The big ones. No more scraps."

Sammy met his gaze. "And if I lose?"

"Then you won't need to worry about another fight."

Back at the gym, Carlos paced, his mind racing. "We need a plan."

Sammy unwrapped his hands, his knuckles still raw from the last fight. "What do you think?"

Carlos sighed. "He's taller, stronger, and has way more experience. His clinch game is nasty. If he grabs you, he'll throw you like a ragdoll."

Sammy nodded. "So I don't let him grab me."

Carlos shook his head. "Easier said than done." He motioned to Rick. "We need to bring in someone to mimic his style."

Rick smirked. "I might know a guy."

The next day, Sammy met his sparring partner—Miguel, a heavy-handed kickboxer built like a tank.

From the start, Miguel didn't hold back.

The first clinch came fast—Miguel grabbed the back of Sammy's head and yanked him forward into a brutal knee to the gut.

Sammy barely had time to react before an elbow crashed against his jaw. He stumbled back, and Miguel pressed forward, throwing a leg kick that nearly swept him off his feet.

Carlos stopped the session. "You see the problem now?"

Sammy spat blood onto the mat and nodded. "Yeah."

Carlos helped him up. "We have two options. One—we work on breaking out of the clinch before he can do damage."

Sammy rolled his shoulders. "And two?"

Carlos grinned. "We hit him first."

For the next few days, training became brutal. Sammy worked on:

Footwork: Staying outside of range, circling, never letting Dante get a clean grab.

Dirty Boxing: Using short, brutal punches in the clinch to make him hesitate.

Takedown Defense: Stuffing throws before they happened.

Counterpunching: Making every mistake Dante made hurt.

By the end of the week, Sammy wasn't just ready.

The night of the fight, the underground arena was packed. The air was electric, the scent of sweat and adrenaline thick.

Dante stood across the ring, cracking his knuckles, his dead eyes locked onto Sammy.

Vinnie sat in his VIP section, watching with amusement.

The ref stepped forward. "No rounds. No stoppages unless one of you can't continue."

Dante grinned. "I hope you last longer than the last guy."

Sammy exhaled slowly. "Come find out."

The Butcher’s Reputation