#Cage Fighting

[pancrasefighter69]

Cage Fight: Submission Grappling Match.

Yeah, no striking and punching, but some fiercely aggressive submission grappling action.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 2: Nowhere to Run (BAU reader)

No. 2 NOWHERE TO RUN

Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

WARNINGS: cage fighting, fighting, blood, hurt reader, let me know if I’ve missed anything

Word Count: 2572

Disclaimer: I don’t condone illegal fighting or anything

@whumptober-archive

“Make sure you win.” You nod sharply, knowing that Tony wasn’t someone to joke. Not when it involves money. And this did. A lot of it. Tony smiled, tapping your cheek lightly, “Good. Now go out there and win us some money,”

You nodded once more, bouncing on your toes slightly. You knew it wasn’t strictly legal per se. But you needed the money. While the FBI paid well, it didn’t exactly pay well enough. You still had student loans, rent, not to mention your medical bills - as it turns out, the health insurance you get at the FBI is shockingly terrible. And on top of all of that? You had your sister’s medical bills to pay for as well. 

You were up against a new opponent today and he was good. You hadn’t seen him fight, but Murphy had managed to take down Maguire, which meant he must be good. There was only one other person who had ever taken Maguire down, and that was you. You, being the current champion, were introduced to the audience first. You grinned, despite your nerves (from the pressure of needing to win the money, from Tony, and not having fought Murphey yet) as you jogged up, placing your hands in the air as you did so. The crowd cheered loudly as you stepped into the cage. 

Murphy followed quickly, punching the air for the crowd - which they loved, apparently. You couldn’t help but think it was a little cliche. 

He threw the first punch, it landed on your ribs. He was eager. Perhaps that was something you could use to your advantage. In the split second you had thought about this, Murphy decided to strike again. He aimed for the next hit, aiming for the same place as before. 

You had heard rumours about Murphy but nothing prepared you for just how good he was. He was fast, agile, and strong. Extremely strong. Two hits into the match you already felt your ribs twinge with pain. You trained hard - your job made it hard not to - and you knew you were strong, but damn this man was strong. You could hear Tony yelling from the sidelines, telling you to think about the money, to think how good it would be if you won the match. On the next hit, you smack into the ground, disoriented. You stumble up, blinking the blood from your eyes. You needed to win. Murphy clearly didn’t worry about kicking a man when he’s down, if the harsh kick to the face was anything to go by. Your head snapped back, slamming into the floor as it did so, you groaned, giving a cough, spitting out the blood from your mouth. 

The match was over rather quickly and annoyingly not in your favour, it was your first loss in a while. You were on the floor, bloodied, by the time the ref calls it. You hear the door of the cage open, the ref and Murphy leaving, and then the crowd slowly exiting the building. Normally, Tony would grin, patting you on the back as he congratulated you on your latest victory. This treatment, however, was only for victories, never defeats. You were left to fend for yourself when you lost. You prop yourself up with your right elbow and slowly make your way to a standing position. By the time you do, no one is left in the room, it’s empty. You hobble towards the gate, smudging some of your blood along the floor as you shuffle towards the exit, one arm protectively wrapped around your side whilst the other clutches onto the fencing of the cage for balance. 

You headed straight to the showers, longing to wash the blood and sweat from your body. Your shower was on the longer side and you made sure to use cold water, hoping that it would numb your body of the aches and pains. You took your time, making sure to rinse all the blood off. You didn’t rush getting changed either. By the looks of it, everyone had already left anyway. 

You’ve just finished getting dressed into joggers and a tee-shirt when Tony entered the locker room, slamming the door closed as he did so. He stormed towards you, face like thunder. “I told you to win.” Tony growled in your ear, you gave a weak shrug.

“I did my best, he’s good-”

“He’s not supposed to be better than my best fighter,” Tony responded, voice sharp. “Follow me,”

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Tony said, making his way to the cage. The seats were now empty, the place abandoned. It was strange, seeing it so deserted. You are confused to say the least when Tony walks the stairs to the cage, stepping inside, he motions for you to follow. When you do, he turns to you, looking you up and down. “Listen, kid, you’re my best fighter. But clearly you need harder training.” With this, three large individuals joined the pair of you in the cage. “Which is why they are here. We are going to stay here, all night if we have to, until you finally beat them. It’s up to you how long we stay here.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, “Tony, it was just one game, I’ll make up for it in the next one-”

“Until you beat them, there is no next game,” Tony said, shrugging as he did so, making his way past the three fighters and out of the cage door.

“Tony, no, I need the money,” You said, rushing forwards to keep up with him. “Tony, you know I need the money-”

“Then you better improve. And quickly.” He replied, locking the door shut with a padlock, pocketing the key. “Time starts now, I guess,” He said as he turned away. 

“Tony? Tony!” You attempt to push past the men standing tall in front of you. They grabbed you tightly, preventing you from getting past them, before roughly shoving you back. You stumble a few steps away from them, glaring at them when you’ve regained your balance. Fuck, this was not good. You had never pissed Tony off this bad before, hell, you had never pissed Tony off full stop. 

You try to push past them again, not wanting to have to actually fight them. You had just lost brutally to Murphy not even two hours ago, you ached all over, your body throbbing to the beat of your heart. You hadn’t really paid them any attention until then, you looked at them and instantly recognised them. In the middle stood Maguire, the man you barely beat in a fight two weeks before. On his left, Johnson, a good fighter, but in a one-on-one fight, you were able to take him down rather quickly. On the right was Williams, he was decent, not as good as Johnson and certainly not as good as you, but he could hold his own against a regular fighter.

They pushed you back again, you sighed as rage began to pool in your stomach, walking towards them once more to get past them. When they reached for you, however, instead of letting them push you, you dodged their hands before throwing a punch at Johnson’s jaw. As it turns out, this was not the smartest move you had ever made. It caused the others to spring into action. 

You were on the floor in seconds. With no ref and Tony gone, you doubted very much that they were going to stick with the regular MMA fighting rules. You knew Tony wasn’t lying when he said that he’d force you to stay here all night if necessary. The fastest way out of here was to knock the three men unconscious. A thought which was a lot easier said (or thought) than done. Once Tony made up his mind, there was no talking your way out of it, you simply had to accept the consequences. 

The first hit landed itself on your side, by the strength behind it, you knew it was Maguire. He was cunning when it came to fighting, knowing exactly where to hit his opponents to cause them pain, he had noticed you favouring your side since the fight after a particularly harsh hit and decided to make the most of it. Despite your best efforts, you did not manage to gain the upper hand, only landing a handful of good hits. 

You were there for hours before the door was unlocked - and not because you had managed to knock the three men unconscious, but simply because Tony (when arriving at work early the next morning) had felt sorry for you and had let you out. 

…

You made sure to keep his head down as he walked through the BAU bullpen until you reached your desk. You knew the team would freak out if they saw your bruises and if you were honest, you had no clue how you were going to keep it hidden. Your face was littered with bruises - as was the rest of you. You hadn’t had time to pick up any makeup or anything this morning, you simply rushed home, showered and changed, and then rushed to work. Most of the bruises were only dark red at the moment, but you’ve had enough of them to know that they were going to be an angry purple soon - probably by the end of the day. There was no way you were going to be able to hide this. Even if you did have access to makeup, no amount of foundation and concealer would cover this. The skin on the bridge of your nose was purple already from the multiple hits it had taken, your left eye was a blackish blue and your lip was beginning to swell due to the cut that sat just to the left of your lip. 

You dumped your bag at your desk and edged yourself onto the chair as smoothly as possible, trying to draw as little attention to you as possible. Your head was pounding. You looked at the time, you were late. Not by much, only five minutes. But late is late when you’re fighting crime (or filling out the paperwork of past crimes). 

"You okay, (Y/N)?" Morgan asked, seeing you hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.

You let out a half assed moan. "I was up most of last night." You were hoping to keep your head down as much as possible, maybe play it off as being tired until the bruises had healed. You knew it wasn’t the best plan, but it’s all you had until you could get your hands on makeup.

"Atta boy!" Morgan exclaimed, too loudly. You winced slightly.

"There was no sex involved Morgan, " You said, raising your head to look at Morgan in disgust.

"Woah, what happened to your face, kid?" Morgan asked, his eyes widening, drawing the attention of Reid, Rossi and Emily. Shit. This was not good. So much for that plan then. 

"Shit. Um, I didn't get into a fight- really. I fell over? Badly?"

"Bull shi-"

“(Y/N), my office, now.” Hotch said, appearing from his office. You looked up at him, making (accidental) eyecontact. You couldn't tell if he was pissed, worried, or a mix of the both. You gave a short nod, as you began to stand up, trying best to hide your wince as you did so. Based on the look shared between Hotch and Rossi, you did not do a good job. 

Hotch was sitting at his desk by the time you made it up the stairs - turns out, they are a pain in the ass to climb when injured. He motioned for you to sit down, studying you as you did. Great, that was just what you needed. “Yes, sir?” You asked, looking up from your hands at him. ‘Just pretend to be confident’ You thought, ‘He won’t be able to tell the difference’. 

“What happened?” He asked. No beating around the bush then.

“Nothing, sir, honest-”

“(Y/N),” He said sternly. “Something clearly happened.”

“It won’t happen again and it won’t interfere with my work, I swear-”

Hotch sighed, “Stop avoiding the question,”

“I was mugged.” The lie slips from your tongue before you can even process it. You shut your eyes, biting your tongue. You were going to get into so much trouble if you told the truth. So much fucking trouble. But you weren’t a liar, you were an honest man going through a rough patch. You could trust Hotch. He was stern and sometimes had little sense of humour, yes, but you could trust him. You were sure of it. “That’s not what happened.” You drew in a sharp breath, wincing when it caused a sudden pain in your chest, before you continued, “I’ve been fighting underground for a few months now. I fucked up and lost a fight, this is what happens when you lose a fight,” 

You watch in silence as Hotch furrows his eyebrows, thinking. “I’m going to have to report this,” He said. 

You nodded, “I know,”

“And I’m not sure what the outcome of this will be,”

“I know that too,”  Guilt swarms through your chest when you lock eyes with him. He looks so disappointed. You don’t want to ask, but you have to. “Do I need to pack my stuff, sir?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch answers and you’re thankful for his honesty. It’s more than what you’ve done over the last few months. He sighs deeply, “Why did you do it?”

“I need the money,” You answer. “This job pays well, sure, but it doesn’t cover everything.” When you see his confusion, you decide you may as well tell him everything. He knows this much, he may as well know the whole truth. “My sister’s sick, really sick and health insurance doesn’t even cover a quarter of the medical bills,”

Hotch gave a sigh, rubbing his hand across his face, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

…

“What do you think they’re saying?” Emily asked.

“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it isn’t good,” Morgan noted. 

…

“There wasn’t and isn’t exactly anything you could do sir, so I just didn’t see the point in telling you.” You shrugged, drawing in a breath at the pain that flooded your back from the small motion. 

“I don’t want to,” Hotch began, “But I’m going to have to suspend you pending an investigation,”

You nodded. You had expected that, “Yes sir.”

“You don’t need to clear your desk,” The ‘yet’ was left unsaid. “But you do have to let me drive you to the hospital.” He said, not giving you room to argue before he stood. “Come on.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What? No, sir, it’s not that bad, really-”

“(Y/N),” His voice left no room for argument, and so, with a groan, you stood. 

“Fine,” You mumbled, trying your best not to think about the further medical bills that were going to come from this hospital visit. 

Morgan nodded at the pair of you as you trailed after Hotch, letting yourself curl in slightly in an attempt to reduce the pain. They knew now anyway.

“Everything okay?” Morgan asked.

“I’m taking (Y/N) to the hospital,” Hotch answered, “I should be back before lunch,”

“We’re coming with you,” Garcia declared. Hotch thought for a moment before nodding. Maybe, just maybe, you’d be okay. 

[mizunosuzuka]

The tavern was as raucous as ever the night of the underground cage fights...

 "Let's set up for the next one shall we?" The three moved towards the cage edge, nudging past a pair of hulking Roes who practically growled at them, to look in on the  next fight. It was a matchup between Hylskvaef Ahtmtounsyn and Blazing Mountain, two very prominent Roegadyn who were both known well for holding nothing back and providing a good show besides.

“That f*** snake.” Drevenn spat out, slamming his fist against the railing. “He has always been a smooth talker, but if he’s offering an exorbitant amount of gil…”

“Ah, Drevenn. So nice to see my little brother after all these years.” His blood red eyes flickered across his brother’s body before settling on his face. “Ah but you don’t look as pleased to see me as I am you. Not happy to see long lost family?”

--

Want more? Read my little short story HERE

[skinskisurf]

[blacktoothcomics]

i have never tried, nor been addicted to, meth. and i have never had even an iota of a wish to.

but when ppl accuse me of such, i do feel a twinge of pride. oh, bluss, you think i would survive an upper. what a machismo token u have bestowed upon this humble orchid.

no yeah lmao i can't even grow outside the swamp, there's no way i would survive trying to schmoke a chemical fertilizer.

and don't do meth, not even once, it's not good medicine. vincent wrecked himself on meths when he had to keep that cage fighting job to pay for his grammaws rent.

that's why he tried to rob ur house, @anurognathusvilheimium , he might have only been looking for a place to sleep. should have listened to ur ma's good medicine and sound wisdom, should have never traded his body to violence and addiction to survive.

he could have asked for help, from your mom even, with his grammaw and homelessness. i couldn't help him, i was also homeless. vincent could have asked around for help, asked other family, asked other friends, asked a social worker, asked the psychologists he was given.

but i suspect that our town betrayed vincent same as it betrayed my mother and sister, same as it tried to betray me. they shut the behavioral science center down for fraud. some clumsy (and inevitably old and white and moneyed) crook was embezzling.

and he (old crook) didn't even need the scrilla, he just wanted to see mental health services kneecapped in that town -- in order to better and more justifiably criminalize the traumatised (and thus mentally ill) poors and halfbloods, because michigan was exporting prison labor to california. to fight wildfires.

i don't do meth, never have and never will. but i stand with the Comedian Sam Miller on facebook dot com. and you should, too. his experience with meth was very different from me or vincent, because he learned how to ask for (and receive) help from his community.

that's something you and i are privileged to be able to do, as well. we are, if not at least white-passing and thus more sympathetic to doctors, very well supported by our families in ways vincent could not be, for his mother's untreated BPD and his dead or absent father, for the squeezed resource-scant state of our towns social support infrastructure, his disabled granny and jobless cousins, et fucking cetera.

[hello-hi-no-bye]

No wonder our grandparents sound crazy when they tell stories

[shadow0-1]

Boys will be boys 🙄

[pancrasefighter69]

Streets Fight Club: Muscular fighter ready to fight. This is about as brutal and savage as it gets in No Holds Barred, No Rules or Limits fistfighting action. 💪👊💪

[chalkrub]

more linocut art fights, this time revenges!

[taggedurit]

[jainkoa]

Isn’t it so funny how there are so many soccer/football fans but I can’t name one person that I know personally that gives a fuck about the soccer

[fffrost]

some silly doodles while i work on bigger WIPs

[caemidraws]

Session notes...dinner is served