The Last Time [Amalea]

[Enver Marshall II]

“Hello, this is Enver.” Enver's tone was blase at best, being told there was a gentleman on the phone by the name of 'Bob' on the other end from his secretary. ”Enver Marshall?” The man asked, as if in disbelief. “Yeah. That's me.” His tone grew to mild irritation; after all-didn't the guy call him.

“Yeah, this is Bob. You might not remember me, but...” The guy went on indicating who he was and when they had met. And he was right. Enver hadn't remembered 'Bob.'Of course, how could he? The guy was pretty ordinary, other than the fact that he had owned a fight club. And to boot, it had been two months since Enver's last fight at the place, so he could only assume there had been a lot of fighters, or someone wasn't doing their job correctly. Probably the latter.

“There's still no million, is there?” Enver asked, curious as to if he should waste his time with an inadequate business-even if it was a shady business. If a business could not run properly, then that meant a few things to Enver. A few things that meant nothing good. ”A million what?” The man sounded confused, before Enver just laughed and shrugged it off. “Never mind. So, when is the fight? Last one I was in was with some tiny blonde a few months back. Months.” Enver emphasized how much time had passed for a second time, indicating how poorly he thought the whole thing was. After the details were given, Enver shrugged and agreed, indicating this would be his last time to the underground fight club. He wouldn't say why, but no way was he going to color his reputation or business with a place that ran poorly and was shadier than hanging out under a big willow tree in summer time.