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[Sharing]

Granger stood with Evie as she laid it all out for Dane, what had happened, with Belix, with the ruling class over in Serriquisse. For their ‘missing’ captain, the two of them twisted up a fib about her going to visit family as she reassessed her life, not too far from the truth when you got right down to it. With the ruling class, there was nothing else they could do besides tell him the truth, that his leaders had given up their humanity, become Fae creatures so that they could transform themselves into immortal puppet masters and spend the rest of eternity pulling the strings of the world. All in all, the old Tiger-man took it quite well as he emptied and refilled his drinking flask twice over.

“You could just pull from the bottle,” Granger advised as he watched the old man taking another deep tug from his flask.

“All things in moderation,” Dane muttered, and wiped his mouth.

“I don’t think you know what that means,” Granger mentioned.

“Hey,” Evie reached out and touched his hand, “I know it’s a lot, but we’re all in this together.”

“Together with What?” Dane shouted, falling back into his chair, but finally capped his flask, “What the Hell are we supposed to do with this? What CAN we do?”

“Nothing, probably,” Granger shrugged, “But, we felt you deserved a warning.”

“Why would…” Dane paused and buried his face in his hands, “They’re not going to keep it stagnant,” he muttered, “A move like this means rewriting the system, and that means old heads like me are likely to get chopped…”

“Well, I wouldn’t say likely… it’s probable though.”

“So, keep your eyes up,” Evie told him, “And your ears open, if you need help, we’ll be here to keep you safe.”

“Thank you my dear,” he whispered, never raising his head.

“I’ll be by later,” she told him quietly, running her hand through his hair, “Hopefully, we can find a way to...lift your spirits…”

Dane let out a stifled chuckle, but, even after he lowered his hands, there was nothing in his face to say his mood had been elevated. Granger brought things back around to business, and the old Tiger-man grabbed a few registration papers legally re-list him as the captain of their current ship. In the midst of their paperwork, Granger managed to convince the old man to name the ship, which had just been going by Miji-1 up to this point, and, from this day forward it would be known as the Kingfisher. All documents signed, and all information passed, Granger and Evie turned to leave.

“You’re playing him aren’t you,” Granger observed, barely waiting for their feet to hit the road at the end of the winding staircase that led from the lighthouse before accusing her.

“No,” Evie responded bluntly, “He’s already been played, I’m just maintaining him.”

“You really are shameless you know that?”

“You jealous?” she scoffed, “Oh, and in the interest of my concerns here, do you mind if I stay in town for the night?”

“I don’t like the idea of you…”

“So you are jealous?” Evie folded her arms.

“Stop trying to manipulate me,” Granger snapped.

“No,” she responded pleasantly.

“Why are you like this?”

“Do I really need to explain it again?”

Granger paused and sighed, wearily rubbing his eyes.

“Donald asked me to pick up some items in town,” Granger told her blandly, “So I’m a bit busy for the rest of the day...I could pick you up in the morning…”

“Thank you,” she tried to leave only for her to hold her in place.

“But, while you’re getting showered and perfumed,” he snapped, “Ask around, see if there’s a job we could do, or anyone needing a parcel carried.”

“You can’t do it yourself?”

“Like I said,” he let go of her, “I’ll be busy.”

Later that night, as the sun set, Belix lounged on the couch flipping a single gold coin in her hand. On the floor, Clyde sat with a sack of gold, silently sorting through the coins as he counted them out on the coffee table.

“I cannot believe you did that,” he sighed, finally emptying the bag.

“He’s the one who put us up in a casino,” she shrugged, flipping him the last coin, “And, what can I say, the cards love me.”

“You ever hear the term ‘quit while you’re ahead’?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “But, everyone who says that is poor.”

Clyde shook his head and gave up, after doing his last count, he looked at the pile of metal coins in front of him and let out a frustrated groan.

“I don’t even know if we can carry this much,” he complained.

“Sure we can, we just need to get a better suitcase…” she whipped out her hand and shoved a stack of gold in his direction, “So go out and buy one, I’ll watch the loot.”

Shaking his head, Clyde gathered up the coins and walked towards the door.

“Whoa, wait!” Belix called out after him, “You know I was joking, right?”

“You have a fight tonight and you just bilked your sponsor out of a mountain of cash,” He responded to her, “I’d prefer we were in the wind before the sun rises.”

“Fair point,” she shrugged, going back to lounging on the couch.

Opening the door, he almost tripped over Mitch, inexplicably waiting on the other side. He almost apologized, but then recognized who the gremlin was and just moved on without saying a word. With Clyde gone, Mitch reached out and knocked on the open door.

“Come in!” Belix shouted to him.

“Right…” Mitch closed the door and cleared his throat, “It has been...forced upon me to...impress upon you…”

“They banned me from the gaming floor?”

“Yes, and...your room is no longer comped,” Mitch pointed to the pile of gold, “So I’ll be taking the payment now…”

“I’m gonna need to see a receipt,” she told him warningly.

“Are you…”

“Yes…” she yawned, “Or, I could throw you out the window and you could crawl your way back up here, With a receipt.”

“You don’t trust me do you?” Mitch noticed, stepping closer.

She grabbed a nearby lamp and hurled it in his direction, not even bothering to watch as he dodged out of the way.

“No,” she responded with a yawn, continuing to lounge on the couch.

“You know you could be a little appreciative.”

“You tricked me into doing this,” she snapped.

“You’re benefiting from it!”

“You shoved me in the river and I caught a fish,” she rolled her eyes, “That doesn’t mean you bought me dinner.”

“Do you even know why I’m doing this?” he demanded.

“Because you’re an idiot?”

“That’s not…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you think you’re some kind of dumbass revolutionary,” she sighed.

“No you...you’re...um...how did you…”

“Your sister said as much.”

“I thought she didn’t talk about me.”

“She didn’t,” Belix grumbled, “But I was asking,” finally deciding to sit up, “Let me see if I’ve got this right,” she mused, turning to look at him, “You’re trying to create a hero.”

“Wha...but…”

“Call it what you want,” Belix shrugged, “You’re trying to force a member of your race into a sporting event that your people have never participated in before, you’re breaking boundaries, shattering glass ceilings…”

“Do you have a fucking point?” Mitch demanded.

“Do you?” Belix scoffed, “What do you expect to come from this, I mean, do you actually expect your guy to get the belt? Title…? Trophy? Whatever the Hell the champion gets.”

“He could… if you throw the match… I mean…”

“Then the next guy’ll just bounce him like a rubber ball,” Belix chuckled, “More to the point, what was your follow up there, were you about to bribe me? Drug me? What’s goin’ on?”

“I...was hoping we could come to a mutually beneficial understanding…”

“No!” she laughed in his face, “That’s not happening.

“But you don’t understand!”

“I honestly understand better than you,” she continued to laugh, shaking her head.

“He’d be an inspiration, children will grow up…”

“And what about the next fight? You gonna fix that one too?”

“If you’d just…”

“And what about when the truth gets out? Because you know it’s gonna get out, what happens to the little kiddies then? When they realize that their hero has been nothing but a lie.”

Mitch fell silent, staring at the ground, fists clenched. Belix shook her head and lay back down on the couch.

“I’ll give him a fair shot, but I’m not taking a dive, that’s the way it’s gotta be.”

“I hope he bites off your fucking kneecaps!” Mitch snarled at her, stomping away.

“Don’t forget to come back with the receipt,” she called out, waving goodbye to him.

Mitch slammed the door in her face.

Some hours passed and Clyde eventually returned, a new suitcase stuffed under his arm. It was less of a suitcase and more of a footlocker with straps, something Belix couldn’t help snickering about. They separated what they needed to pay their tab at the casino and piled the rest into the massive suitcase. With everything settled, they left for the arena.

They came in with the earliest of the crowd, just when the concessionaires were starting to make their rounds. Belix and Clyde talked to one and were directed to the backstage manager who ushered them into the locker room. They met a few of the other fighters, large, well built men who were busy getting into their costumes on, but gave them pleasant smiles none the less. Eventually, they reached a more secluded spot near the back and Belix took off her cloak, stashing it in a locker.

“Inclusive,” she mentioned, plopping herself down on a bench.

“Yeah…” Clyde mentioned, “Guess you should have changed before we showed up.”

“Changed into what?” Belix let out a guffaw, “Hang on, are you just trying to get me undressed?”

“No…” Clyde responded nervously, his cheeks flushing a bit, “I...I mean, I wasn’t trying to…”

“Gods you are an easy mark,” she leaned back, crossing her legs and chuckling, “Anyway, how’s this supposed to work, do they come out and get us, or...do we just wait for a cue…”

“You will be retrieved before the match and wait beside the entrance ramp while you are introduced,” Mr. Agater called out to them, cutting through the locker room with his guards flanking him on both sides.

“Should I bow or curtsy?” Belix muttered dryly.

“How ‘bout we don’t antagonize him today,” Clyde whispered back.

“So tomorrow works for you?”

“Shush!” he insisted.

Mr. Agater approached them, his steps languid and relaxed as he took a long draw from his pipe and blew a billow of smoke at them when he finally reached the pair.

“You arrived on time,” the old satyr mentioned.

“Well, we were just upstairs,” Belix shrugged.

“Just a thought,” he told them, striking a match to relight his pipe, “Most people who cleaned me out like you did would be halfway past the horizon by now.”

Belix shrugged noncommittally and stared at the wall.

“Are you here for a reason?” Clyde finally asked.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Agater demanded, a threatening note in his voice.

“Apologies,” Clyde bowed, “I meant no disrespect, but I don’t think I saw you in here before, that makes me think that you must have something to tell us.”

Belix turned around and raised an eyebrow, expectantly. Mr. Agater grumbled and blew a billow of smoke in Clyde’s face.

“You’re not wrong,” the old satyr admitted and then snapped his fingers.

One of his guards came closer and presented them with a suitcase. Clyde and Belix glanced at each other and opened the case, Belix’s face became creased with confusion as she removed what looked like three eye patches on a string.

“Your costume,” Mr. Agater stated, “All fighters wear costume.”

“Right,” she looked past him to the other fighters in the locker room, “Can’t help but notice that they have pants.”

“Men enjoy to stare at legs,” Mr. Agater mentioned off-handedly.

“It doesn’t even have an ass to it!” she snapped, tossing the ‘costume’ back in the suitcase.

“You say that like it’s bad thing.”

“I’d rather fight in my underwear,” she grumbled.

“Is your choice, but you wear costume.”

“Or, I leave…” Belix stood up only to hear the distinctive click of a pistol being drawn. “Yeah…” she sighed, “Had my doubts about that one.”

“Is not personal,” Mr. Agater, “I pay you in advance, you use it to win more than three times payment.”

“It just about evened out after you stuck us with the bill.”

“Enough!” the old satyr shouted, “You humiliate me, I humiliate you, is fair exchange yes?”

“I mean, are you asking?” Belix shrugged.

“So fight in your underwear, fight in croakier sack for all I care,” he warned her, turning away, “But you wear costume when you fight, and, if you try to leave, a bullet will chase you down.”

They watched him leave, noticing when he made a point of leaving one of his guards to watch the exit.

“Well, kind of a bait and switch,” Clyde noticed.

“Meh, it could be worse,” Belix muttered, then glanced at the suitcase and shook her head, “I’m not wearing that thing.”

“So you do intend to fight in your underwear?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no,” she blushed slightly, “Because I’m not wearing any…”

“What?” Clyde blinked in surprise and unconsciously backed away, “You...you’re not…”

“Not most days…” Belix shrugged, “It’s too hot around here for layers anyway.”

“Great, so what, you want me to search you out a flag you can wear as a tunic?”

“Tempting, but,” Belix eyed him warily, “I was actually gonna ask if I could borrow yours.”

“My…” he paused, unconsciously touching the cuff-links on his wrist, “I don’t actually have a costume you know.”

“Nah, but you got those spider things, they could make me something…” she looked at him shifting about nervously, “What is this like a taboo or something?”

“Not...exactly, but...it is a bit of a private affair, and…you’ll have to take off your clothes…”

“Okay,” she shrugged dismissively, and was already reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Can you...give me a moment,” Clyde grumbled, checking the area and then moved to the far end of the section to act as her door.

With that, he reached down and retrieved the large golden cuff-links, and blew out a single breath across them. They sprang to life in response, the small latches on their sides becoming legs, and they looked around curiously before turning their attention back to Clyde.

“You were listening?” he asked and they squeaked and chirped in response, “Can you do it?”

they nodded and eagerly scuttled across his arm, jumping from his shoulder onto the bench. Belix made a surprised scoff, but shrugged and started disrobing as they crept closer, eventually jumping onto her bare thigh.

“Gah!” she shouted in surprise, “It tickles!”

“Can you keep it down?” Clyde snapped.

“You’re really not gonna sneak a peek?” Belix teased him.

He grumbled something under his breath, his face turning beet red while he pointedly ignored her and stared at the floor. After a minute or so, Clyde felt something tapping against his cheek and turned to see one of the spiders poking at him. He blew another breath across them and clipped the pair back onto his sleeves.

“So that you know,” he warned her, “The suit will dissolve after a day or so.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she chuckled shoving past him to make him look at her, “So, what do you think?”

“...tasteful,” he mentioned, sincerely looking her over and nodding in approval.

The suit felt to him more like a battle tunic, a few layers of cloth belted at the waist, and, thankfully, the more exposed parts of her body were covered by a thick muffler, allowing her to hide her shame. She was also wearing a thick black mask with a golden embroidery, and he found himself wondering as to the spider’s artistic style, he had seen similar markings on his own suit when they made one for him.

“Yeah,” she mentioned, giving the outfit a little twirl, “It is kinda boring, but, I think it works.”

“You need gloves,” he mentioned, turning away to collect her discarded clothes,

“Right,” she walked off, “Gotta have some spares around here…”

He folded her clothes delicately and placed them into the large suitcase on his back. Pausing for a moment only when he noticed a small linen thong beneath her shirt. For some reason the sight of it froze him in place and, for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. He had to actively collect himself and remember that he had been folding his Mistresses underclothes for almost a decade now, but he still handled them awkwardly and stuffed them away as fast as he could. He was still busy with her pants when she came back.

“Hey, check these out,” Belix chuckled, throwing a few punches and showing off her new gloves, “I didn’t even know they made this brand.”

“For mixed martial arts fights,” Clyde explained, while locking her discarded clothes in the suitcase, “They tend to include a lot of grabbing and grappling, so the fingers need to be free to move around.”

“Bet you could fit a whole roll of coins in this,” she mentioned, pressing her finger into the padding on her gloves.

“I’m sure you could,” Clyde shook his head, “But if you get found out you’ll be disqualified.”

“Disqualified nothin’ I’m keepin’ these.”

“Yo, You that Drow Chick?!” a teamster ran through the crowd of fighters and came to a stop next to them, “What the Hells is this?” he demanded, “I thought you were wearing the bikini?”

“I’m not,” Belix shrugged.

“Well, where’d you get that thing from?”

“Just threw it together, are we on?”

“Huh? Oh, right,” the old, out of shape man, decided not to fight against the change in subject and consulted the notes on his clipboard, “The band’s about to finish up its set, when that happens, there’ll be a short interlude for introductions, then your entrance.”

“Right,” Belix nodded, “So…”

“And you’re new...sorry, lots of stuff to take care of…” the teamster sighed and set his notes aside, “What you do is, once you hear your name, you walk out, glad hand a bit, wave to the crowd, then you get in the ring, the referee will call the match, and when he says go, you come out swinging.”

“Got it.”

“And by the way, it’s three rounds, and the boss wants this to go the distance, so no early knock-outs, clear?”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Be sure you do,” the teamster grabbed his notes again and used his pen to point towards the exit ramp, “The entry stage is that way, when you hear your name you enter from the left, any questions?” Belix shook her head and he nodded, “Right, good luck out there.”

They watched him leave, off to put out the next fire, then Clyde and Belix took one last look at each other.

“You ready?” he asked.

“How ‘bout a kiss for good luck?” she smirked, but to her surprise, Clyde easily leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, behind her mask, Belix was blushing heavily.

“Are you ready now?”

“Fuck yeah,” Belix declared happily, bashing her fists together and marching off with purpose and vigor, “Let’s do this!”

Description

[Sharing]

Granger stood with Evie as she laid it all out for Dane, what had happened, with Belix, with the ruling class over in Serriquisse. For their ‘missing’ captain, the two of them twisted up a fib about her going to visit family as she reassessed her life, not too far from the truth when you got right down to it. With the ruling class, there was nothing else they could do besides tell him the truth, that his leaders had given up their humanity, become Fae creatures so that they could transform themselves into immortal puppet masters and spend the rest of eternity pulling the strings of the world. All in all, the old Tiger-man took it quite well as he emptied and refilled his drinking flask twice over.

“You could just pull from the bottle,” Granger advised as he watched the old man taking another deep tug from his flask.

“All things in moderation,” Dane muttered, and wiped his mouth.

“I don’t think you know what that means,” Granger mentioned.

“Hey,” Evie reached out and touched his hand, “I know it’s a lot, but we’re all in this together.”

“Together with What?” Dane shouted, falling back into his chair, but finally capped his flask, “What the Hell are we supposed to do with this? What CAN we do?”

“Nothing, probably,” Granger shrugged, “But, we felt you deserved a warning.”

“Why would…” Dane paused and buried his face in his hands, “They’re not going to keep it stagnant,” he muttered, “A move like this means rewriting the system, and that means old heads like me are likely to get chopped…”

“Well, I wouldn’t say likely… it’s probable though.”

“So, keep your eyes up,” Evie told him, “And your ears open, if you need help, we’ll be here to keep you safe.”

“Thank you my dear,” he whispered, never raising his head.

“I’ll be by later,” she told him quietly, running her hand through his hair, “Hopefully, we can find a way to...lift your spirits…”

Dane let out a stifled chuckle, but, even after he lowered his hands, there was nothing in his face to say his mood had been elevated. Granger brought things back around to business, and the old Tiger-man grabbed a few registration papers legally re-list him as the captain of their current ship. In the midst of their paperwork, Granger managed to convince the old man to name the ship, which had just been going by Miji-1 up to this point, and, from this day forward it would be known as the Kingfisher. All documents signed, and all information passed, Granger and Evie turned to leave.

“You’re playing him aren’t you,” Granger observed, barely waiting for their feet to hit the road at the end of the winding staircase that led from the lighthouse before accusing her.

“No,” Evie responded bluntly, “He’s already been played, I’m just maintaining him.”

“You really are shameless you know that?”

“You jealous?” she scoffed, “Oh, and in the interest of my concerns here, do you mind if I stay in town for the night?”

“I don’t like the idea of you…”

“So you are jealous?” Evie folded her arms.

“Stop trying to manipulate me,” Granger snapped.

“No,” she responded pleasantly.

“Why are you like this?”

“Do I really need to explain it again?”

Granger paused and sighed, wearily rubbing his eyes.

“Donald asked me to pick up some items in town,” Granger told her blandly, “So I’m a bit busy for the rest of the day...I could pick you up in the morning…”

“Thank you,” she tried to leave only for her to hold her in place.

“But, while you’re getting showered and perfumed,” he snapped, “Ask around, see if there’s a job we could do, or anyone needing a parcel carried.”

“You can’t do it yourself?”

“Like I said,” he let go of her, “I’ll be busy.”

Later that night, as the sun set, Belix lounged on the couch flipping a single gold coin in her hand. On the floor, Clyde sat with a sack of gold, silently sorting through the coins as he counted them out on the coffee table.

“I cannot believe you did that,” he sighed, finally emptying the bag.

“He’s the one who put us up in a casino,” she shrugged, flipping him the last coin, “And, what can I say, the cards love me.”

“You ever hear the term ‘quit while you’re ahead’?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “But, everyone who says that is poor.”

Clyde shook his head and gave up, after doing his last count, he looked at the pile of metal coins in front of him and let out a frustrated groan.

“I don’t even know if we can carry this much,” he complained.

“Sure we can, we just need to get a better suitcase…” she whipped out her hand and shoved a stack of gold in his direction, “So go out and buy one, I’ll watch the loot.”

Shaking his head, Clyde gathered up the coins and walked towards the door.

“Whoa, wait!” Belix called out after him, “You know I was joking, right?”

“You have a fight tonight and you just bilked your sponsor out of a mountain of cash,” He responded to her, “I’d prefer we were in the wind before the sun rises.”

“Fair point,” she shrugged, going back to lounging on the couch.

Opening the door, he almost tripped over Mitch, inexplicably waiting on the other side. He almost apologized, but then recognized who the gremlin was and just moved on without saying a word. With Clyde gone, Mitch reached out and knocked on the open door.

“Come in!” Belix shouted to him.

“Right…” Mitch closed the door and cleared his throat, “It has been...forced upon me to...impress upon you…”

“They banned me from the gaming floor?”

“Yes, and...your room is no longer comped,” Mitch pointed to the pile of gold, “So I’ll be taking the payment now…”

“I’m gonna need to see a receipt,” she told him warningly.

“Are you…”

“Yes…” she yawned, “Or, I could throw you out the window and you could crawl your way back up here, With a receipt.”

“You don’t trust me do you?” Mitch noticed, stepping closer.

She grabbed a nearby lamp and hurled it in his direction, not even bothering to watch as he dodged out of the way.

“No,” she responded with a yawn, continuing to lounge on the couch.

“You know you could be a little appreciative.”

“You tricked me into doing this,” she snapped.

“You’re benefiting from it!”

“You shoved me in the river and I caught a fish,” she rolled her eyes, “That doesn’t mean you bought me dinner.”

“Do you even know why I’m doing this?” he demanded.

“Because you’re an idiot?”

“That’s not…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you think you’re some kind of dumbass revolutionary,” she sighed.

“No you...you’re...um...how did you…”

“Your sister said as much.”

“I thought she didn’t talk about me.”

“She didn’t,” Belix grumbled, “But I was asking,” finally deciding to sit up, “Let me see if I’ve got this right,” she mused, turning to look at him, “You’re trying to create a hero.”

“Wha...but…”

“Call it what you want,” Belix shrugged, “You’re trying to force a member of your race into a sporting event that your people have never participated in before, you’re breaking boundaries, shattering glass ceilings…”

“Do you have a fucking point?” Mitch demanded.

“Do you?” Belix scoffed, “What do you expect to come from this, I mean, do you actually expect your guy to get the belt? Title…? Trophy? Whatever the Hell the champion gets.”

“He could… if you throw the match… I mean…”

“Then the next guy’ll just bounce him like a rubber ball,” Belix chuckled, “More to the point, what was your follow up there, were you about to bribe me? Drug me? What’s goin’ on?”

“I...was hoping we could come to a mutually beneficial understanding…”

“No!” she laughed in his face, “That’s not happening.

“But you don’t understand!”

“I honestly understand better than you,” she continued to laugh, shaking her head.

“He’d be an inspiration, children will grow up…”

“And what about the next fight? You gonna fix that one too?”

“If you’d just…”

“And what about when the truth gets out? Because you know it’s gonna get out, what happens to the little kiddies then? When they realize that their hero has been nothing but a lie.”

Mitch fell silent, staring at the ground, fists clenched. Belix shook her head and lay back down on the couch.

“I’ll give him a fair shot, but I’m not taking a dive, that’s the way it’s gotta be.”

“I hope he bites off your fucking kneecaps!” Mitch snarled at her, stomping away.

“Don’t forget to come back with the receipt,” she called out, waving goodbye to him.

Mitch slammed the door in her face.

Some hours passed and Clyde eventually returned, a new suitcase stuffed under his arm. It was less of a suitcase and more of a footlocker with straps, something Belix couldn’t help snickering about. They separated what they needed to pay their tab at the casino and piled the rest into the massive suitcase. With everything settled, they left for the arena.

They came in with the earliest of the crowd, just when the concessionaires were starting to make their rounds. Belix and Clyde talked to one and were directed to the backstage manager who ushered them into the locker room. They met a few of the other fighters, large, well built men who were busy getting into their costumes on, but gave them pleasant smiles none the less. Eventually, they reached a more secluded spot near the back and Belix took off her cloak, stashing it in a locker.

“Inclusive,” she mentioned, plopping herself down on a bench.

“Yeah…” Clyde mentioned, “Guess you should have changed before we showed up.”

“Changed into what?” Belix let out a guffaw, “Hang on, are you just trying to get me undressed?”

“No…” Clyde responded nervously, his cheeks flushing a bit, “I...I mean, I wasn’t trying to…”

“Gods you are an easy mark,” she leaned back, crossing her legs and chuckling, “Anyway, how’s this supposed to work, do they come out and get us, or...do we just wait for a cue…”

“You will be retrieved before the match and wait beside the entrance ramp while you are introduced,” Mr. Agater called out to them, cutting through the locker room with his guards flanking him on both sides.

“Should I bow or curtsy?” Belix muttered dryly.

“How ‘bout we don’t antagonize him today,” Clyde whispered back.

“So tomorrow works for you?”

“Shush!” he insisted.

Mr. Agater approached them, his steps languid and relaxed as he took a long draw from his pipe and blew a billow of smoke at them when he finally reached the pair.

“You arrived on time,” the old satyr mentioned.

“Well, we were just upstairs,” Belix shrugged.

“Just a thought,” he told them, striking a match to relight his pipe, “Most people who cleaned me out like you did would be halfway past the horizon by now.”

Belix shrugged noncommittally and stared at the wall.

“Are you here for a reason?” Clyde finally asked.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Agater demanded, a threatening note in his voice.

“Apologies,” Clyde bowed, “I meant no disrespect, but I don’t think I saw you in here before, that makes me think that you must have something to tell us.”

Belix turned around and raised an eyebrow, expectantly. Mr. Agater grumbled and blew a billow of smoke in Clyde’s face.

“You’re not wrong,” the old satyr admitted and then snapped his fingers.

One of his guards came closer and presented them with a suitcase. Clyde and Belix glanced at each other and opened the case, Belix’s face became creased with confusion as she removed what looked like three eye patches on a string.

“Your costume,” Mr. Agater stated, “All fighters wear costume.”

“Right,” she looked past him to the other fighters in the locker room, “Can’t help but notice that they have pants.”

“Men enjoy to stare at legs,” Mr. Agater mentioned off-handedly.

“It doesn’t even have an ass to it!” she snapped, tossing the ‘costume’ back in the suitcase.

“You say that like it’s bad thing.”

“I’d rather fight in my underwear,” she grumbled.

“Is your choice, but you wear costume.”

“Or, I leave…” Belix stood up only to hear the distinctive click of a pistol being drawn. “Yeah…” she sighed, “Had my doubts about that one.”

“Is not personal,” Mr. Agater, “I pay you in advance, you use it to win more than three times payment.”

“It just about evened out after you stuck us with the bill.”

“Enough!” the old satyr shouted, “You humiliate me, I humiliate you, is fair exchange yes?”

“I mean, are you asking?” Belix shrugged.

“So fight in your underwear, fight in croakier sack for all I care,” he warned her, turning away, “But you wear costume when you fight, and, if you try to leave, a bullet will chase you down.”

They watched him leave, noticing when he made a point of leaving one of his guards to watch the exit.

“Well, kind of a bait and switch,” Clyde noticed.

“Meh, it could be worse,” Belix muttered, then glanced at the suitcase and shook her head, “I’m not wearing that thing.”

“So you do intend to fight in your underwear?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no,” she blushed slightly, “Because I’m not wearing any…”

“What?” Clyde blinked in surprise and unconsciously backed away, “You...you’re not…”

“Not most days…” Belix shrugged, “It’s too hot around here for layers anyway.”

“Great, so what, you want me to search you out a flag you can wear as a tunic?”

“Tempting, but,” Belix eyed him warily, “I was actually gonna ask if I could borrow yours.”

“My…” he paused, unconsciously touching the cuff-links on his wrist, “I don’t actually have a costume you know.”

“Nah, but you got those spider things, they could make me something…” she looked at him shifting about nervously, “What is this like a taboo or something?”

“Not...exactly, but...it is a bit of a private affair, and…you’ll have to take off your clothes…”

“Okay,” she shrugged dismissively, and was already reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Can you...give me a moment,” Clyde grumbled, checking the area and then moved to the far end of the section to act as her door.

With that, he reached down and retrieved the large golden cuff-links, and blew out a single breath across them. They sprang to life in response, the small latches on their sides becoming legs, and they looked around curiously before turning their attention back to Clyde.

“You were listening?” he asked and they squeaked and chirped in response, “Can you do it?”

they nodded and eagerly scuttled across his arm, jumping from his shoulder onto the bench. Belix made a surprised scoff, but shrugged and started disrobing as they crept closer, eventually jumping onto her bare thigh.

“Gah!” she shouted in surprise, “It tickles!”

“Can you keep it down?” Clyde snapped.

“You’re really not gonna sneak a peek?” Belix teased him.

He grumbled something under his breath, his face turning beet red while he pointedly ignored her and stared at the floor. After a minute or so, Clyde felt something tapping against his cheek and turned to see one of the spiders poking at him. He blew another breath across them and clipped the pair back onto his sleeves.

“So that you know,” he warned her, “The suit will dissolve after a day or so.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she chuckled shoving past him to make him look at her, “So, what do you think?”

“...tasteful,” he mentioned, sincerely looking her over and nodding in approval.

The suit felt to him more like a battle tunic, a few layers of cloth belted at the waist, and, thankfully, the more exposed parts of her body were covered by a thick muffler, allowing her to hide her shame. She was also wearing a thick black mask with a golden embroidery, and he found himself wondering as to the spider’s artistic style, he had seen similar markings on his own suit when they made one for him.

“Yeah,” she mentioned, giving the outfit a little twirl, “It is kinda boring, but, I think it works.”

“You need gloves,” he mentioned, turning away to collect her discarded clothes,

“Right,” she walked off, “Gotta have some spares around here…”

He folded her clothes delicately and placed them into the large suitcase on his back. Pausing for a moment only when he noticed a small linen thong beneath her shirt. For some reason the sight of it froze him in place and, for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. He had to actively collect himself and remember that he had been folding his Mistresses underclothes for almost a decade now, but he still handled them awkwardly and stuffed them away as fast as he could. He was still busy with her pants when she came back.

“Hey, check these out,” Belix chuckled, throwing a few punches and showing off her new gloves, “I didn’t even know they made this brand.”

“For mixed martial arts fights,” Clyde explained, while locking her discarded clothes in the suitcase, “They tend to include a lot of grabbing and grappling, so the fingers need to be free to move around.”

“Bet you could fit a whole roll of coins in this,” she mentioned, pressing her finger into the padding on her gloves.

“I’m sure you could,” Clyde shook his head, “But if you get found out you’ll be disqualified.”

“Disqualified nothin’ I’m keepin’ these.”

“Yo, You that Drow Chick?!” a teamster ran through the crowd of fighters and came to a stop next to them, “What the Hells is this?” he demanded, “I thought you were wearing the bikini?”

“I’m not,” Belix shrugged.

“Well, where’d you get that thing from?”

“Just threw it together, are we on?”

“Huh? Oh, right,” the old, out of shape man, decided not to fight against the change in subject and consulted the notes on his clipboard, “The band’s about to finish up its set, when that happens, there’ll be a short interlude for introductions, then your entrance.”

“Right,” Belix nodded, “So…”

“And you’re new...sorry, lots of stuff to take care of…” the teamster sighed and set his notes aside, “What you do is, once you hear your name, you walk out, glad hand a bit, wave to the crowd, then you get in the ring, the referee will call the match, and when he says go, you come out swinging.”

“Got it.”

“And by the way, it’s three rounds, and the boss wants this to go the distance, so no early knock-outs, clear?”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Be sure you do,” the teamster grabbed his notes again and used his pen to point towards the exit ramp, “The entry stage is that way, when you hear your name you enter from the left, any questions?” Belix shook her head and he nodded, “Right, good luck out there.”

They watched him leave, off to put out the next fire, then Clyde and Belix took one last look at each other.

“You ready?” he asked.

“How ‘bout a kiss for good luck?” she smirked, but to her surprise, Clyde easily leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, behind her mask, Belix was blushing heavily.

“Are you ready now?”

“Fuck yeah,” Belix declared happily, bashing her fists together and marching off with purpose and vigor, “Let’s do this!”