Now I have to find a way to get out of here, Carlos thought when he managed to free himself from the rope with which he was tied. Of course, he still didn’t know where he was, or how this place came to be—he could only remember the last thing he did in his office. After…nothing.
His clothes were dirty, although the room he was in had no mirrors – Carlos could imagine his reflection, his unkempt and unkempt appearance.
In a short time he noticed that the room was circular and had only one door. Of course, it was closed. Carlos fumbled with the lock and hit it—uselessly—with the intention of knocking it down. His frustration grew. Little by little, giving strength to the fear of being locked up.
“It helped,” he repeated on several occasions. “There is someone there.”
Carlos was alone, and without answers for his questions. He noticed that the room he was in was too big for his liking, and with a dirt floor. It was possible that he was on the outskirts of town on some ranch.
Until he saw them appear. The room had a space before reaching the ceiling, a kind of bleachers, and Carlos assumed that it was a stage. It quickly filled with people, some looking at it curiously.
“You can help me get out of here,” Carlos said.
However, he did not get a response from the public.
It took a long time for everyone to find their place to watch the show, and the host appeared.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said with a microphone in his hand. “In the sand is Carlos—a lawyer from routine life who has made a great fortune.”
The people in the audience clapped excitedly.
“His test will be to defeat Xavier, a mixed martial arts fighter who is not happy with the results of his case.”
Carlos saw the arena door open and a muscular man entered.
“No, no,” Carlos said. “There must be a misunderstanding.”
Xavier just paced from one side to the other, not straying too far from the now closed door.
“How much are they paying you?” Carlos pleaded. “I’ll give you double.”
“…It will be a fight to the death,” said the host. “Two go in but only one can go out.”
With that Xavier began to approach slowly, his arms raised. His gaze fixed on Carlos.
“I beg you,” Carlos said. “This doesn’t have to be this way.”
But Xavier didn’t have time for a conversation, he could only think about the fight. In his rival’s position, off guard—his seeming unimportance for what was happening. So, he cornered him to close the gap and try some shots.
Carlos walked backwards, trying to avoid the attacks. “Please no.”
Xavier threw a couple of blows to gauge his opponent’s reactions, to know the space—to know how fast he reacted.
But Carlos was only fleeing backwards, trying—without strategy—to evade the attacks.
Xavier continued to move from one foot to the other, chasing Carlos. He threw a couple of punches with no intention of impact, just to get a reaction. It was that instant that he found the perfect angle, and with a blow to the jaw, he sent Carlos to the ground.
The lights went out and he fell. Carlos remained unconscious for an instant, holding the floor with his hands to regain his balance.
Xavier was celebrating a few steps away, waiting for his opponent.
“There must be a misunderstanding,” Carlos said, getting up.
Xavier raised his fists and returned to search for his prey