Chapter 9

If the previous night taught him anything, it was that he either needed to start running again or he needed to get stronger even faster.

Maria might not have caught him this time, but she was no fool. If he continued to come home beaten and bruised, it wasn't a matter of if but when she'd find out about it...

And that wasn't something he would stand for.

Lucky for him, it was a Saturday, so for the next two days he wouldn't have to.

And that meant that he had time to work on a few things.

---

In every city there was bound to be a darkness.

A shadowy corner somewhere where all its horror stories come from.

Then there was the place even the rats that scurried out of those corners wouldn't touch.

And at the very bottom of the list of that final category, was Gleason's gym.

Gabe stood in front of its glass door for the better half of an hour just wondering why it was so quiet.

Where was the rhythmic thump of leather on leather?

The jangling of chains as they strained to hold the sand bags they held?

Where, was the screech of sole's on the canvas?

Its moniker still hung on top of the same glass doors he remembered, a large GL followed by the rest of it's letters scrawled in white on a large black sign. A stain had begun to invade from every corner, probably snuff out it's name in a year or two if it was lucky.

Those doors had not seen much better days either, and it certainly shook like it when he pushed through them.

"We're closed." A raspy voice murmured from behind a counter.

"It's only 9 a.m..." Gabriel checked his watch.

"It doesn't matter if it's a.m or p.m, here or all the way down the frickin East, we're closed either way."

"..."

He wanted to ask more, but that'd be just for confirmation.

Just judging off the looks of place it was pretty easy to tell that the sport he loved wasn't doing very well.

Gleason's was the top when it came to boxing gyms in his old world, so if it had reached this point, there was little hope in his mind that any of the others were faring better.

That being the case, he wasn't looking for the venue but for the man who made him a decent fight for a champion anyway.

"If it's okay with you I'd just like to know where I could find Charlie Roach?" Gabriel asked.

"Huh?"

"Charlie Roach?"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time kid." Rustling came from under the counter.

Followed by a thump and a cartoonish yowl before an old man rose up from behind it, rubbing his head as he did so.

"The 'Huh' was less... yowch!" Tanned fingers pulled away from his whitened head quickly as his face scrunched up.

"...that'll leave a mark... I think, anyway, I was just surprised that anybody can walk into an obviously empty building and then ask for someone." A pair of eyes looked widely at him from behind a pair of thick bifocals, "I mean seriously kid does it look like there's even a Kevin here? IS THERE A CHARLIE ROACH HERE!? CHARLIE! ROACH!"

The voice echoed back and forth across the hall, looping the old man's mocking tone as it did so.

"Really?" An exasperated Gabriel finally responded after recovering from the verbal beat down he'd just received, "You had to come up here just to say all that? You know, a simple no would've sufficed."

"It might've..." He looked around behind the counter before pulling out a bottle out of a pile of god knows what.

"But look at me," He raised his free hand up, framing his wrinkled face, age spots filling the gaps in between. "It was either this or wait for death like I usually do..."

"And this way you're technically doing both." Gabriel interjected matter-of-factly, stopping the man's own tirade.

"Not bad." He replied with a slight nod.

"Thanks."

"Wasn't a compliment." The old man said as he turned his attention to his bottle.

"What uh... what're you looking for this Roach guy for anyway?" He continued, struggling to open the cap, his grip slipping every now and then. "And more importantly, why here?"

"Why does anyone come to Gleason's ever?" Gabe answered hesitantly as he looked at the state of the place, and took the bottle from the man's hands, twisting the cap off with ease.

'...to box.'

The answer was there, both young and old knew it in their hearts, but neither said it.

"And there's your problem right there." The man grabbed the bottle and took a big swig.

"Puhaaa... it doesn't exist anymore." He continued, whipping some of the sludge off his lips, his eyes betraying a hint of melancholy in his facade of acceptance.

"Gleason's?" Gabe asked in wide eyed naivety.

Maybe in an attempt to hide the things he knew.

Or maybe... even more simply... he was in denial.

Giving him a short look, the man simply sighed and muttered under his breath.

"...That too."