American Fight Club: Primal Elements Book 1

Copyright © 2015 Gabe Bowens III.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-4579-3(sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-4580-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014915975

iUniverse rev. date: 01/29/2015

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

For my father

Chapter 1

I

Yuma, Arizona

Birds of prey circled in the air high above their target, quietly riding the shifting currents in the wind. A sudden change in the air shifted the smell of blood and alcohol away from the birds.

The largest buzzard, still locked on its target, broke formation and dived toward the aroma’s source.

Down on the ground their target, a man, woke in excruciating pain.

His cough shattered the silence of the desert landscape as he curled into a ball to empty the contents of his stomach. Eyes swollen and crusted over with dried blood blurred his vision.

The large buzzard, a few feet away, stared at the man while others began to land.

He held his stomach while trying to stand on legs that were battered and bruised. Taking a step, he fell back to the ground, drained. The taste of dirt and sand quickly filled his mouth as he fought to give sound to the pain and frustration he felt.

Confused, disoriented, and unable to help himself, he tried to yell again but his throat, raw from dry heaving, burned and he was incapable of making prolonged sounds.

Breathing heavy, he rolled on his back and lost consciousness while the sun began to color the dark sky from the horizon.

The large buzzard still staring, hopped closer.

II

Ambi, happy to get the head nurse’s position on her schedule at Saint Francis hospital, arrived at work early.

After checking in with the prior shift’s head nurse, she began to make her rounds. With a slight pep in her step and a smile on her face, she continued making her rounds on the floor, checking the charts of the various patients. She truly enjoyed herself.

Ambi, drawn to her profession by parents who were doctors, found out at a young age that helping people brought her happiness.

A friendly smile and a few good words were an excellent greeting, she thought, while checking in on the patients she passed. A smile, she remembered her mother saying one time, was the best way to inject optimism into the situation.

On one chart she checked, the patient had came in unconscious with tattered clothes, and no identification. Scanning his chart, she found his profile: Race – other; Sex – male; Age – late twenties to early thirties; Problem – head trauma, animal bites, severe bruising, dehydration, and fractured ribs.

Ambi was dismayed at the laundry list of injuries; she let curiosity get the better of her as she entered the patient’s room.

The setting sun poured through the room’s only window as she adjusted the blinds to dim its effects. Seeing him wrapped in gauze and multiple bandages she kinda felt sorry for him, Ambi checked his I.V. drip and reached for his wrist to check his pulse.

Out of nowhere he grabbed her hand in a vise-like grip. Ambi winced in pain, about to call for an orderly; but paused when he began mumbling…

I came prepared to die, he said, quickly sitting up in the bed fully awake, staring at her.

Sir, you’re hurting my hand, please— she said but was cut off by him.

I’m sorry, please forgive me, he said with a raspy voice, quickly releasing her hand.

Can you tell me your name? she asked as she rubbed her hand noticing the man’s odd-colored eyes locked on her. Ambi took a step back from the bed, and closer to the door. She watched him closely.

I… I don’t know, he said, whispering with a voice filled with turmoil.

Do you know what day it is?

July eleventh, he said with a sideways glance around the room.

Knowing he was a few days off, she kept silent.

I can’t remember my name. I don’t know who I am.

You don’t remember anything? she said, reaching for the chart that she had set on table at the foot of his bed.

I can’t…, he started then leaned back in the bed defeated.

Can I finish checking your vitals?

Please, he began, with a grunt of pain. I’m so sorry… it is just that I don’t remember anything.

Well, you’re in good hands. My name is Ambi and I’m going to try and make sure that your road to recovery is a smooth one, she said, back in her comfort zone, flashing her infectious smile.

Beginning to smile too, he raised his arm toward her as she took hold of his wrist. Thank you, he said, and then silently floated back off to sleep.

III

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his heart pulsated in his chest. He knew, in his mind, he would run no more. Faced with the fight of his life, and for his life, he stood in a relaxed ready position.

He was up against a brick wall, staring at the only door his opponent would enter. Rain drummed the roof of the structure and added moisture throughout the enclosed area.

He heard footsteps moving in his direction, and became tense. Muscles strained tight ready to pop.

Scared of running old man! his pursuer asked in a booming voice that matched his own six-five frame of solid muscle mass as he burst through the door.

I came prepared to die!

And so you will! the pursuer said, closing the space between them.

Racing toward his pursuer, he began his attack with quick combinations of blows that neither touched nor surprised the larger man. Baffled, he tried to hit his pursuer again as they locked in a dance of martial arts. They fought each other with fast hand techniques and even faster footwork. He became frustrated when his attempts failed as his adversary taunted him.

Your skills are weak! You will die when I’m bored with you!

As he fell back into a cat stance, he felt his timing was off. He glanced at his hands before he launched himself into kata that brought him closer to his goal of delivering a rib-breaking double-fisted punch. However, for a second time he mistimed his adversary and received a hard palm heel to his midsection.

He realized the consequences and fell a few steps back while holding his arms out to shake off the attack. With a clenched fist, he willed the pain away as his adversary laughed.

How cute! the larger man said, before he swiftly covered the few feet that separated them and connected with a powerful blow that flashed like lightning.

IV

No! the man with no memory yelled when he woke fully alert in his hospital bed. The pain he felt from the nightmare was so fresh in his mind, and stomach, he threw up.

V

It is done! Completed! Greyson said after he entered the small room. His olive complexion and six foot-five frame in a white tailored suit pulled all eyes to him. He, who was my enemy, now aides the ancestors! From this point forward all will answer to me! he continued in his thick Colombian accent.

The once lively room stood deathly still. The mocking proclamation of a hero’s death by Greyson shocked everyone.

In the back of the bar, a woman screamed with fury as she tried to reach for the boaster. However, the bar’s patrons held her back.

Danast closed his eyes as a lone tear escaped. About to make a shot, he had bent over the pool table, stuck in disbelief with a cue stick still in his hand. Then moving with blinding speed, he swung the cue stick at Greyson’s head with a grunt but larger man caught it in his mitten-sized hand with a loud thwack.

I wasn’t quite finished talking yet, Greyson said with a smirk and a shrug of his massive shoulders.

As Danast tried to wrench the cue stick free from Greyson’s hand, the larger man spun in a tight circle and kicked him across the room while he still held the cue stick in his large hand.

Such heroics are nonsense, Greyson started as some rushed to Danast’s side. I am starting a new organization. A new league for fighters, gamblers, and spectators to enjoy! The Extreme Mixed Martial Arts arena is dated, very old news. In my new league, all will have an invested interest, he added with a soft chuckle. And since Danast has already volunteered, he will be the first to understand my rules.

About to leave, he turned towards the door then stopped. Is anybody else gamed?

Sue Le Sun still struggled against the people who held her back as Greyson eyed her. She screamed for his head while cursing him from afar.

Greyson smiled then gave her a small wave and head nod before exiting the building.

VI

Everyone watched Greyson leave in a silence that was deafening.

Danast, hand covering his chest, slowly climbed to his feet to stare at all that looked at him with stunned expressions on their faces.

The room in which he stood was a recreational lounge for the XMMA called Valhalla and for all that looked on at Danast; he was considered the Sempai, the mentor.

The last great soldier, who just was handled by Greyson like an untrained child.

None had figured that Alieem, their collective mentor and martial arts Master, would fall to the likes of Greyson. Nevertheless, all had witnessed the man’s newfound speed and agility.

Alieem know this would happen, he knew this day would come! He also knew that Augustus Greyson was in search of some mythical artifact. We all, in here, fought against each other and with each other in the name of our sport. But the time for fighting against each other is over! You all just witnessed Greyson’s speed and strength. That was not natural! he said voice filled with emotion. We can all stand together or fall apart.

As murmurs rose in the small room, he heard someone shout, We’re still with you Dan! While others silently questioned Danast’s common sense of going against Greyson with Alieem dead.

I stand with Danast! Sue Le Sun said, before jumping on top of a table defiantly. Then as other patrons of Valhalla lounge began to take note and stand, some quietly slipped out the door.

From his vantage point, Danast saw the few faces he could count on and hoped it would be enough.

VII

- GREYSON THE VICTOR -

- INVITES YOU -

Come one, Come All.

The All-New

AMERICAN FIGHT CLUB

Is Sponsoring A Defeat!

DANAST CUMMINGS

Of

128 Lakeview Drive is a prized mixed martial arts fighter. Anyone, who can best him with no weapons and catch the act on film for American Flight Club’s judges, will be paid $30,000 in cash.

This Is A Mano e Mano Affair!

One on One!

Loser Must Be Left Immobile!

-AMERICAN FIGHT CLUB-

-GREYSON THE VICTOR-

GOOD WILL HUNTING!

-REWARD-

$30,000.00

For The Beating

Of

DANAST CUMMINGS

www.AmericanFightClub.com

VIII

Days turned into weeks as Danast grew more familiar with the role of a trainer. He created new aggressive combinations of hand and feet techniques that were a mixture of Alieem’s teachings and what he learned growing up in Boston.

The toughest lessons he learned was being forty-eight in a room of fighters whose average age was twenty-eight. Therefore, he knew he had to rely on intelligence instead of strength and speed, and pushed everyone to execute their techniques flawlessly.

After a few missteps and attitude adjustments, he realized camaraderie existed among them all. He was happy to see the solidarity and respect grow. Rocco Mitchell and Sue Le Sun, two of his most promising fighters, began staying late to help other people perfect a new grappling move.

Late one night while closing the gym, Danast noticed a small crowd marching his way. Sue Le Sun and Rocco Mitchell stood at his side looking in the same direction.

Yeah, that is him! someone yelled, as the crowd got closer. Then suddenly a bright light came on bathing the area in its glow while someone turned a mounted video camera in his direction.

Danast Cummings? asked a tall muscular dark skinned man that stepped forward with long dreads pulled into a tight knot on top of his head.

Rocco, dressed in a tracksuit that fitted him loosely, stepped forward in a stance that Danast recognized as one of his own.

What do you want? he asked in a light Italian accent.

Nothing little man but my thirty thousand for beating his old ass! the reply came quickly enough.

I don’t want any problems with you, young man, Danast said meekly to see the surprise on Sue Le Sun’s face.

Rules say nothing about you being willing! the dreaded man responded for the crowd and cameras. Then taking a sheet of paper from his baggy pants, he flung it at Danast but Rocco quickly caught it in the air.

That damn Greyson put a price on your head, Dan, Rocco said, after reading the sheet of paper. Danast read it quickly after Rocco finished. Then with a shake of his head, he gave it to Sue Le Sun, who did not read it but folded it up and stuffed it into a hidden pocket on her pants.

Can I persuade you to reconsider? Danast asked in the same meek voice.

No! his opponent said, sporting a devilish grin.

I will try not to hurt him, Danast said, turning to Rocco and Sue Le Sun then beginning to take off his light jacket, he added with a half hearted smile. Maybe we can convert them, eh?

Greyson is at the root of this travesty Dan, spare no one, Sue le said.

The dreaded man rushed Danast throwing one sloppy fist after another. Nonetheless, Danast countered with speed that came with years of training. He deflected every punch thrown at him before he was able to dip low enough to deliver a vertical punch to the base of the dreaded man’s lungs.

The dreaded man stumbled back gasping for air while he clawed at his chest. Danast rose to stare at him with an admonishing look on his face.

Please, we don’t have to do this, he said, but once the man caught his breath he charged Danast with renewed vigor.

Fall old man! he said, throwing fast kicks at Danast’s head, midsection, and legs.

Danast tired of games and of ignorance, danced back avoiding the man’s fast kicks. Seeing how his opponent fought, he waited for the opportune time, then quickly swept the dread man off his feet and delivered a blow to the back of his head as he tried to rise