ch4:Idiots

Chapter 4:

Midnight…

The dimly lit passage opens up into a underground arena filled with people. The air is thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and something primal. The low bass-heavy music reverberates through the walls, mixed with grunts, laughter, and the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Neon lights flash, casting shadows that dance across the crowd. Faces are illuminated briefly, revealing a mix of anticipation, excitement, and a hint of danger.

THIS IS THE UNDERGROUND.

The place for the eight gangs that rule the area of Lahore, and here we have the ARENA—a place where promises are broken, grudges are made, a place filled with nothing but the sins of mankind.

As Ali moves in with his friends, the crowd parts respectfully to let them pass. Despite the attention, Ali doesn't even break stride; this is normal for him. As the boss of ONI, one of the most powerful gangs in Lahore, he's used to this treatment.

"Looks like we're going to have fun tonight," Fatima says, her eyes locked on the rival gang ahead—the Wolfs, who are waiting for them with smug expressions.

Ali glances back at Fatima, then at the Wolfs, and their eyes lock in a silent challenge.

"Let's see what they've got," he replies coolly as they approach a heavy door adorned with intricate designs.

Pushing through, they step into a dimly lit chamber, the atmosphere electric. Inside, eight seats are arranged in a semi-circle, each emblazoned with a unique symbol representing the gangs of the underground. Six other individuals are already seated, each exuding a sense of authority and danger.

Raza leads the Wolfs, known for his icy blue eyes and ruthless reputation. Ahsan, the head of the Guns, is cocky, always playing with his silver revolver. Sana, the fierce leader of the Roses, commands respect with her strategic mind and piercing gaze. Tariq, the head of the Thugs, is a hulking figure who relishes chaos. Salim, representing the Mafia, oozes cunning charm, while Kareem of the Kings has ambitious eyes and sharp wit.

Ali strides toward one of the seats bearing the face of a demon—a symbol of power and ferocity. He sits down with an air of confidence, surveying the room.

"what is the occasion for you to have called me" Ali says as he sits down and look towards the six Gang bosses."We receive a called from the chairman,but i am here for none of that crap i am here to beat living hell out of you". Ali hearing this calmly looks at the Wolf gangs boos Raza"Did he forget to take his medication today"and looks towards the other gang bosses who tried to hide thier laughter.

As they are speaking the door open, and a man in his mid-30s strolls in, wearing a beach shirt that feels out of place in the underground . A cigarette dangles from his lips, and his casual demeanor contrasts sharply with the tension in the room.

"Hello, cuties," he says, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "Glad to see everyone is here."

The man makes his way to the last unoccupied seat. This is the Chairman, the one figure who commands everything in Arena. He takes his seat, propping his feet up lazily on the table in front of him, as if he's about to share a story rather than address the deadliest gang leaders in Lahore.

Ali leans back in his chair, eyes trained on the Chairman. "What's the occasion for you to have summoned us all here?" he asks, his voice steady, calm.

Before the Chairman can respond, Raza, leader of the Wolfs, interrupts. "We received the call from the Chairman, but I'm not here for any of that crap." He sneers, glaring at Ali. "I'm here to beat the living hell out of you."

Ali turns slowly to face him,he gives Raza a calm look, then glances toward the other gang bosses"Did he forget to take his medication today?"

The room ripples with suppressed laughter, with several of the other bosses trying—and failing—to hide their amusement. Raza's face contorts with rage, but before he can react, the Chairman clears his throat.

"Alright, alright, boys. Put your swords away," the Chairman says with a grin, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I didn't call you here to watch you fight—although I'm sure we'll get to that part soon enough."

He pauses, letting the tension hang for a moment before continuing. "I called you all here because we've got a big opportunity on our hands. You're the bosses of the eight most powerful gangs in Lahore, and each of you is here because you're the best in your respective game—whether it's controlling turf, pulling off heists, or dominating in this very Arena."

The Chairman flicks his cigarette ash onto the floor. "But we're about to go bigger. Much bigger."

He leans forward slightly, his voice lowering. "The Arena International Combat Tournament is about to start. This isn't some street-level fight. This is National. Fighters from all over the underground legends, rising stars, and killers—will be coming to compete. And the stakes? Let's just say they're higher than anything you've ever faced."

He looks around the room, making sure everyone is paying attention. "The world will be watching. Sponsors, billionaires, governments, cartels—you name it. The money involved? Astronomical. And guess who gets a share?"

The Chairman smirks, his eyes gleaming with the promise of wealth and power. "You. The gang bosses. Each of you will enter a champion. Whoever wins, your gang gets the glory. The influence. The fortune."

The room grows still as the gang leaders process what they've just heard. Ali crosses his arms, thoughtful but silent. Around him, the others exchange glances, their minds already calculating the possibilities.

"And don't think this is just about fighting," the Chairman continues. "This is business. You'll make alliances, enemies, and fortunes if you play your cards right. But more importantly, you'll expand your reach far beyond Lahore."

He takes one final drag of his cigarette and crushes it beneath his boot. "So, my dear kings and queens of the underground, this is your moment. Get your fighters ready. The world is watching."

Ali's eyes narrow as he leans forward, locking gazes with the Chairman. "And what's in it for you?"

The Chairman grins, leaning back in his seat. "Oh, don't worry about me, Blood King. I've got my own bets to place. Let's just say I like watching a good game."

The tension in the room thickens again, but this time it's the anticipation of what's to come. Alliances will be made, plans will be laid, and soon, the underground will explode with blood and glory.

The Arena waits, and so does the world.

As the Chairman finishes his speech. Ali stands up to leave. But before he can take another step, Raza, rises from his seat.

"Where do you think you're going?" Raza growls.

Ali turns slowly, "Looks like the princess wants to dance," he says with a smirk.

The atmosphere shifts immediately, the tension crackling in the air as everyone senses what's coming next. A murmur runs through the crowd, and soon it escalates into chants and shouts as people rush to the arena floor, anticipation building.

"Blood King! Blood King!" people, their voices rising above the chaos.

Others counter with, "The Beast! The Beast!"—Raza's moniker, earned through countless brutal victories.

Ali and Raza move toward the center of the arena with mask on thier faces in the shape of a red japanese Oni and the face of a northern Wolf The crowd roars as they approach the ring, each step heavier with years of rivalry.

The announcer's voice booms through the speakers. "In this corner, the Boss of ONI, the Blood King himself!" The crowd erupts with cheers and applause.

"And in the opposite corner, the Boss of the Wolfs, the Beast of the Underground!" More roars, as Raza raises his arms, acknowledging the chants of his fans.

As Ali and Raza enter the ring, the atmosphere grows electric. Below, their subordinates gather, casually chatting as if they've seen this all before.

Bilal,chuckles. "How many times has this happened now?"

"Too many to count," Fatima replies with a grin. "Since fifth standard, right? These two have been at each other's throats forever."

Ahmed Raza's men laughs in agreement. "Yeah, they were the top dogs of their schools. Fought all the way to the top of the ladder, and then… well, you know how it goes. Became bosses, but never stopped wanting to knock each other down."

As they speak, the arena becomes a battlefield of noise, excitement, and adrenaline. Fans from both sides cheer and taunt, eager for what's about to unfold.

Inside the ring, the referee steps back, giving them space. The moment has come.

Without warning, Raza lunges forward, his fist cutting through the air like a hammer aimed at Ali's head.

But Ali, ever calm and composed, sidesteps effortlessly. In the same motion, he strikes back—his fist landing squarely on a blank point on Raza's forehead with surgical precision.

The crowd gasps, the sound of the impact echoing through the arena.

Raza stumbles, his eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of anger. He shakes his head, but it's clear that Ali's speed and accuracy have left an impression.

Ali stands tall, his expression unchanged, the crowd chanting his name louder and louder—"Blood King! Blood King!"

The fight has only just begun. The sound of fists hitting flesh echoed through the arena, each punch from Ali landing on raza's face. It felt almost one-sided. Ali was just using his fists snapping out with precision—every punch calculated.

Thud! Crack!

Ali's fist slammed into Raza's jaw, followed by a sharp kick to the ribs. The crowd flinched at the impact, but Raza stayed upright, refusing to go down. His face was swelling, blood trickling from a cut above his eyebrow, but he just stood there, taking it.

Smack! Thud!

Another strike—this time a brutal uppercut from Ali that snapped Raza's head back. The crowd erupted, some chanting "Blood King," but on the other side the Cheers for the Beast were not going down but even over powering the Blood king's.As Ali pummeled him, Raza just absorbed it, like a wall refusing to crumble.

"You're not gonna make this easy, are you?" Ali muttered under his breath.

Raza wavers, but his feet remained planted, his chest heaving. Even as Ali's fists crashed into him, as the sounds of punches echoed like gunshots, Raza took it all. His body bore the beating, yet his will remained unbroken.

The crowd started to sense it—was time for the awakening of the BEAST.

To be continuee.......