Fighting Chance Vol 2 #14

His arm was screaming, straight-up felt like someone was peeling muscle off the bone with a cheese grater. Zain dangled about thirty feet off the damn alley floor, chain wrapped around his wrist and slicing deeper every second. His whole body swung like a busted-ass wrecking ball, lazy arcs back and forth while the chain…

To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon at $5 or more Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.

Old heads were always pressed about something. Like—relax. It’s just mahjong. Okay, fine, maybe people in their thirties weren’t that old, but if you were hitting up the same buffet twice a week to slap plastic tiles around a table like it was life or death?  You were cooked. Straight fossils. Which is exactly why…

The trap smelled like stale blunt smoke, sweat, and bad decisions. It wasn’t a big spot—just a run-down brownstone, sitting on the edge of the block like a missing tooth in a half-rotten smile. Boarded-up windows, eviction notices stuck to the door like faded tattoos, rats bold enough to run across the front stoop in…

(Yes, this is available for a lower tier. I usually post chapters that have more of a floating aspect in the timeline for lower tiers because if they don’t need previous chapters to follow along, I might as well.) The fancy hotel suite in Midtown Manhattan was its own kind of ridiculous, full of fancy…

The Queens rooftop somehow still kept the last bit of warmth from the summer sun, breathing heat onto Zain’s butt while the skyline blinked in a thousand colors in front of him. Three weeks since they started hanging out and this slab was already theirs, footprints in pigeon dust, a bunch of different-branded empty soda…