Youri accepted Gloria's proposal and officially started working for her as security at Lux. The club was loud and perpetually packed, a constant surge of bodies, music, and tension. Most nights, Youri stood in the VIP section alongside three other guards.
Mark was the oldest of them, and the one who commanded respect without raising his voice. In his mid-forties, he was an ex-wanderer with a thick, muscular build. Bald, broad-shouldered, with sharp green eyes and a permanently stern expression, he was the head of security at Lux. There was something intimidating about him—something predatory.
The other two were Leo and Peter.
Leo was in his late twenties, an underground fighter with wild, fiery-red hair and brown eyes that never stopped scanning the room. He carried himself loosely, almost casually, but there was coiled aggression beneath the surface. To Leo's left usually stood Peter, slightly older, in his mid-thirties. Peter was an ex-Terrian soldier—tall, powerfully built, with short black hair and steady brown eyes. He was quieter than the others, disciplined, his movements efficient and precise.
When Youri joined them, the three men were visibly confused.
He didn't look like a guard. Youri was thin, pale, and lacked the obvious muscle that defined the rest of the team. He looked more like someone who'd get swallowed by the crowd than someone meant to control it.
Mark stepped forward first and raised his hand.
Youri shook it.
Without warning, Mark tightened his grip, squeezing with all his strength—a silent test. Youri didn't flinch. He didn't grimace. He didn't even tense.
Mark released his hand slowly, staring at him in disbelief.
Physical pain wasn't an obstacle for Youri anymore.
When Leo and Peter followed, both trying the same trick, they too were surprised by his endurance. No complaints. No reaction. Just a calm, steady stare.
That was enough.
Without another word, they welcomed him into the team.
During the first week, they taught Youri the basics—self-defense, crowd control, and how to avoid unnecessary conflict. He learned fast. Faster than they expected. He absorbed instructions, corrected his mistakes quickly, and adapted with surprising efficiency.
But learning and reality weren't the same.
Whenever a truly dangerous troublemaker showed up, Youri was almost always overpowered. The others would have to step in and finish the job. Technique helped, but it wasn't enough.
Then came the night everything changed.
One of Malkom's goons got drunk and went on a rampage, spraying guests with alcohol and smashing bottles. Youri was nearby when it started. He grabbed the man by the arm and began escorting him outside.
But three of the man's friends were waiting in the alley.
The moment Youri shoved the goon out the door, they jumped him.
Fists. Boots. Concrete.
They overwhelmed him fast, beating him into the cold ground until blood pooled beneath his face. By the time they scattered, Youri was barely moving.
Leo stepped outside just in time to see him lying there.
"Shit," Leo muttered, rushing to his side. "What happened?"
Youri spat blood onto the pavement and slowly sat up, leaning against the wall.
"Wait here," Leo said. "I'll get first aid."
When he returned, Leo crouched beside him and began patching him up carefully.
"Damn," Leo said quietly. "They really did a number on you."
Youri didn't answer.
Leo sighed and sat beside him on the cold ground. "You need to learn how to fight, man. This place is full of brawlers. If you can't hit back, they'll keep doing this."
Youri exhaled slowly. "I'm used to it," he said. "Pain isn't new to me."
Leo finished bandaging him and leaned back. After a moment, he spoke again.
"Look… I think I can help you."
Youri turned toward him, confused.
"I can teach you," Leo continued. "And you should come with me to the underground fights."
Youri frowned. "Underground… fights?"
"The best way to learn is experience," Leo said. "Yeah, you'll get beaten up sometimes—but that's how you grow. You said it yourself—you're used to pain. Use that. The more you fight, the more you learn. That's how I got where I am."
He smirked slightly. "Pays pretty well too."
Youri looked up at the night sky, memories of past suffering surfacing uninvited. Things could've been different—maybe safer—if he'd known how to protect himself.
Slowly, he lowered his gaze.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's get stronger."
A week later, Leo came to get him.
They traveled to the outskirts of Vegas, where the underground fights were held in a massive tunnel buried beneath the city. Even before they entered, the noise was unmistakable—roaring voices, metallic echoes, raw chaos.
Youri had never been to a place like this.
Inside, the tunnel opened into a vast underground hall packed with people. Some stood, others sat on makeshift platforms, all encircling a circular caged arena at the center. A massive spotlight hung from the ceiling, flooding the ring with harsh white light.
Two fighters were already inside.
The crowd screamed as one landed a brutal punch, knocking the other man flat. The victor raised his arms, basking in the roar.
Leo guided Youri past the ring and through a door behind it.
Inside was the changing room—a huge space lined with lockers, benches down the center, and three showers along the far wall. Fighters moved in and out, bruised, bloody, preparing or recovering.
On one of the benches sat a short man counting money.
"Toney!" Leo called out. "How you been?"
Toney looked up. He wore a thick jacket over a tracksuit, a cap pulled low over his head, a cigar clenched between his lips.
"Oh," Toney said dryly. "It's you."
Leo laughed and sat beside him. "Missed you too."
Then he pointed at Youri. "Brought you a new guy. He wants to fight tonight. Can you find him an opponent?"
Toney studied Youri carefully.
"Hm," he grunted. "Where'd you find this one? Looks like he can barely stand."
"Come on, Toney," Leo said. "Don't be rude."
Toney stood, stuffing the money into his pocket. He looked at Youri again, then nodded once.
"Alright. But he'll fight Boris."
Leo's eyes widened. "What? No—come on, Toney. He's new. Boris will kill him."
"If he wants to fight tonight," Toney said flatly, "Boris is the only one without an opponent."
He turned to Youri. "So? You want to fight or not, kid?"
Youri crossed his arms.
"When does it start?"
Toney smiled.
"Buckle up," he said. "You're next."