7:00 pm and Deon clocked in…literally. With one mean right hook, Deon’s balled up fist met the jaw of his opponent, clipping him immediately in the sweet spot. Deon couldn’t hear the cracking coming from the man’s jaw from the loud roar of spectators watching the scene, but his fist was able to feel the rigid bone structure cave in certain areas putting a rather satisfied smirk on his lip as he pulled his hand back. The man with the now broken jaw hit the cage wall hard and slumped to the ground in a pathetic heap. The uproar of the crowd around him forced his hands into the air in a victory stance, his golden eyes piercing through the metal cage he was enclosed in to those enjoying the show; but even their cheers and yells of excitement were drowned out by the club’s choice of music, a [url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0st_c-qAJKc]song[/url] that usually played when Deon was on a hot streak.

“Lllllllllllllladies and gentlemen! Give it up for District 10’s favorite fighter! The Crusher!”

The announcer, barely audible above the bar’s noises, was seemingly heard as the volume increased ten-fold, making Deon’s ears start to pound. He hadn’t been too fond of the nickname he was given, it was sort of something the announcer just decided to start calling him once he began to work at the Spit. The frequents seemed to like it, and it got his face plastered around all over the district, so he didn’t mind.

“Someone scrape this donkey shit off of my ring.” Deon shouted to the crowd, obviously very into the attention he was getting and in response, one of the clubs bouncers entered the caged ring and dragged out the unconscious man that Deon had just been fighting. Deon followed after the bouncer, leaving the cage and forced his way through the crowd that had gathered since he had started fighting until he reached the bar. He tapped the counter twice, signaling for the bartender to grab him his usual and took a moment to look over ‘The Spit.’ It seemed like it wasn’t that long ago since he came to work here, had it already been a year since his entire life had flipped upside-down on him? The bar tender had just pulled out a frozen glass and began to pour the clear liquid into the glass when Deon put his hand on the bar tender’s arm, motioning for him to leave the bottle and then took the bottle from him, drinking straight out from the top.

Not even moments later, a small group of women approached him with very suggestive looks on their faces. Deon set the bottle down; his interest now peaked as the one in the tight red leather dress promptly sat down on his lap.

“That was some fight you did out there.” The girl in the green dress said as the one in the red dress began to nibble on his ear and neck.

“Hell of a fight, tell me; have you ever been beaten?” The girl in the blue dress asked, moving so that she was behind Deon and put her hands down onto his chest, pressing her own chest up against his back. Deon was only too happy to oblige.

“No ma’am, you’re looking at an undefeated champ.” He smirked, picking up the bottle once again letting the girl in the blue massage his chest while the girl in the red continued to nibble on him. The girl in the green then took this as her chance and pushed the bottle away from his lips, pressing her own lips to his while her hands danced tugged at his hair.

God he loved going to work.