HOME | DD

Description

[Under Card]

Belix stood by the entry ramp, quietly cracking her knuckles and limbering up for the match. The announcer went through a ramble, welcoming the fans and introducing the fighters for the night.

“And now, making her fighting debut, the ebony beauty Spokane…”

“I’m not from fucking Spokane,” Belix scoffed, folding her arms.

“Are you actually upset because a bunch of drunken idiots don’t know where you actually came from?” Clyde mentioned.

“Eh,” she shrugged, “It’s the principal of the thing.”

“Please, put your hands together for Tiffany the Titan!”

Rolling her eyes, Belix walked out, raising her arms in triumph and letting out a war cry that raised a celebratory scream from the audience. Spinning around as she walked down the ramp, she noticed Clyde following her and smirked.

“You coming to?”

“Was I supposed to stay in the locker room?” he shrugged.

“Meh, whatever you’re feelin’ but, um, don’t get involved alright?”

“Of course.”

She waved to the crowd a few more times and finally made it to the ring where she posted up, crouching on a turnbuckle while she waited for her opponent to arrive.

“And now, making his return to the ring after four years of retirement, he’s been called ‘The Baby Silver Back’, ‘The Tiny Mountain’, and ‘The Terrifier’, but today, I want everyone to put their hands together and give a warm welcome to the to the reigning champ of the Gremlin Circuit Bradly ‘The Capuchin’ Capricorn!!”

Fireworks blasted from the ramp and a Gremlin in full boxing attire came charging down. Running on his knuckles, he easily vaulted the edge of the ring, only grabbing the top rope to flip himself into the air. He landed hard, shaking the mat, nearly knocking Belix from her perch and threw his arms in the air to bask in the adulation as the crowd screamed his name.

“Impressive,” Belix admitted, “I don’t think I can make that jump.”

“I can,” Clyde shrugged, “But, I do a lot of free running.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed.

“I’m not bragging but…”

“You could not make that jump man...just…” she patted his cheek as she walked to the center of the ring, “Just stand there and look pretty, alright.”

Clyde grumbled as she walked to the center of the ring to touch gloves with her opponent, then he noticed the referee coming closer. The man was a large panther-person wearing an orange and white striped shirt, who towered head and shoulders over Clyde and audibly shook the mat as he walked.

“They tell you the rules before you came out?” the referee demanded.

“No?”

The Panther-man stepped closer and wrapped his hand around the top rope and gave them a gentle caress.

“This is the line,” the referee told him, “You do not cross it, say what you will, do what you want, but only from the other side of the line.”

“Understood,” Clyde nodded respectfully.

“Oh…” the Panther-man raised an eyebrow, “Also, if you’re gonna be standing there, you’d better be comfortable with getting knocked off the edge.”

Looking down at his feet, Clyde hopped down, and the referee nodded approvingly, he then moved to the center of the ring and stepped between the two combatants.

“Alright,” he addressed them both, “I want a good clean fight, you obey my commands at all times, so when I say back off, you back off, each round lasts five minutes, and when one of you surrenders or is rendered unconscious the match is over, do you understand?”

Belix nodded, then he turned to Bradly who agreed as well.

“Right,” the referee raised his hand, “When I say go, you come out swinging, alright, Let’s Get It On!”

Bradly moved first, rushing her and bounding into the air, throwing a hard right cross that Belix easily deflected and launched an uppercut into his chest. He bounced off of her attack, and landed on the top rope, using it to swing himself back and send himself flying at her again. Clyde circled the ring and watched the battle intently as the two of them exchanged blows. Despite the difference in size the two seemed relatively evenly matched, Bradly was easily more mobile and knew how to use his weight and momentum to avoid most of Belix’s attacks. Several times he wound up on her shoulders, either strangling her or pummeling her across the face only to get thrown back to the mat.

After the first round ended they both returned to their corners for a rest. Belix collapsed into her chair as Clyde joined her.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Fuck no,” she grumbled, spitting some blood onto the mat, “Gods he can throw a punch.”

“Can you see straight?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Belix muttered, stretching her arm and loudly cracking her joints, “Arm’s feeling a little numb but…”

Clyde leaned forward and ran his fingers across her forearm, feeling for the discrepancy and discovering a lump.

“He twisted your muscles,” Clyde observed, massaging it back into place, “Probably did it when he got a hold on you.”

“Right…” Belix stretched her arm again and marveled at how the feeling seemed to have returned, “Any suggestions.”

“Prioritize it,” Clyde shrugged, “Stay light on your feet and don’t let him get a good grip.”

“And, if he does?”

“Toss him, quick and fast.”

“Got it,” Belix nodded as the bell rang, “Thanks.”

The referee set off the second round and the two combatants continued their fight. Belix took Clyde’s advice to heart and made a visible effort to stay on her toes, dodging Bradly’s attacks rather than meeting them head on, swinging in counter attacks rather than straight jabs or kicks. Clyde continued circling the ring to examine the fight, but soon found his path blocked. Mitch stood before him, stock still, arms crossed, and glaring at the match as it unfolded. Glaring at him warily, Clyde tried to step around him only to hear him call out.

“You know what it’s called,” the Gremlin snapped.

Clyde paused for a second, leering at him.

“Gravic,” Clyde supplied the name, “’The Hand That Turns The River’.”

“Oh? You’re educated?” Mitch scoffed, “You know we invented it right?”

“No you didn’t,” Clyde replied bluntly.

“Yes we did!” Mitch practically yelled, “Gravic is the signature fighting style of the Gremlin people!”

“No, it isn’t,” Clyde replied evenly, “It was invented by Soo Lin, an acupuncturist from Xing.”

“No...we…” Mitch sighed, “Who the fuck told you that?”

“My mother,” Clyde responded, “She was trained in it by a man named Gon Lin, Soo Lin’s twenty-third descendant.”

“Right,” Mitch scoffed, “So he says, I’m tellin’ you man, it was created by Gremlins.”

“It was adopted by Gremlins because it works best when you’ve got long fingernails, or claws.”

“No, no, No!” Mitch shook his head, “It was invented General Havik the Bold, who used it to…”

“You mean General Harrowic?” Clyde rolled his eyes, “Do you even know your own history?”

“Well, I...what the fuck do you know anyway?”

“That your people originated from the middle continent between Xing and Yarba, that when the two countries went to war your country was overrun, and sold into slavery, scattered all over the world.”

“Fuck you!” Mitch snapped, huffed uncomfortably and continued to stare at the fight, “You don’t fucking get it anyway.”

Clyde actually struggled with continuing the conversation, honestly just wanting to end it and move on. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him.

“Get what?” Clyde asked with a sigh.

“Do you even know what I’m trying to do here?”

“...um…” Clyde glanced over at the match, catching a brilliant exchange where Belix snatched Bradly’s fist out of the air and shoved it into the mat before driving a knee into his face, “You mean besides exploiting an old warrior for fame and profit?”

“Don’t you get it?” Mitch demanded, roaring as he jammed his finger at the match as it continued to unfold, “We’re a subjugated race man! We need heroes! We Need people to inspire us to toss off the shackles of …”

Mitch blinked in surprise, watching as Clyde tried to hide the fact that he was laughing.

“And just what the fuck is so Goddamn funny you piece of shit!!” Mitch growled at him.

“Yarba and Xing,” Clyde scoffed, “THEY keep slaves, the church never cottoned to the idea, so, everyone who was bought from those countries entered into indentured servitude, they were released after ten years.”

“Well...well yeah, but we’re still second class citizens!”

“You barely come up to my hip,” Clyde rolled his eyes, “Are you really surprised that you get stepped on every now and again?”

“What, you’re saying it’s ‘fine’?!”

“No,” Clyde scoffed, “But this…” he gestured to the fight, “This isn’t how you effect change.”

“W-well why not?”

“Because that guy’s already a legend, well known among his people, I...I can’t even imagine how many people he’s inspired,” Clyde looked at Mitch and shook his head, “What you’re doing is just scummy.”

“Well…” Mitch looked at him, flustered and angry, “Well Fuck You!”

“Sure,” Clyde turned away, “You want my advice, whatever money you get from this, put it into politics, get some laws passed, that’s how you change the world.”

Mitch glared after him, and spat on the ground.

“Bullshit,” the Gremlin murmured.

Round two ended and both of the fighters looked visibly weary at this point, Belix was even noticeably limping as she returned to her corner. Clyde soon joined her, examining Belix’s injured leg.

“Anything broken?” she asked, wincing as he ran his hands over the darkening bruise.

“Not that I can tell,” Clyde observed.

“That’s surprising,” she grunted, “That was one Hell of a kick.”

“You doing okay otherwise?”

“Fuck no,” she grunted, stretching and popping her shoulder loudly, “But unless you got a jug of booze on you…”

“Fresh out,” Clyde smiled back at her as he wrapped her leg, “Are you sure you can finish this out?”

“It’s just one more round,” she shrugged, cleaning some blood away as it leaked from her nose, “What’s more, it’s about to take a turn.”

“A...what?” Clyde blinked in surprise.

“You didn’t notice?” she pointed across the ring.

Opposite her, Bradly sat in his own corner, tearing off his protective padding and throwing it on the floor. The referee walked over to ask if he was about to give up, and Clyde noticed a telling shudder in his hands as the Gremlin tried his best to collect himself.

“He’s been flagging for a few minutes now,” Belix admitted sadly.

“Tragic,” Clyde muttered, looking past the old warrior and glaring at Mitch.

“Yeah, well, he’s an old man, would’ve hated to fight him even ten years ago,” the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the third round, with effort, Belix forced herself to stand and Clyde removed her chair from the ring, “Alright, I got this.”

He nodded and watched her march to the center of the ring to start fighting again. Clyde marched around the ring and grabbed Mitch by the scruff of his neck, dragging him into the lockerroom and finding them a quiet spot to talk. Then he threw Mitch against the nearest wall.

“Okay!” Mitch shouted angrily as he collected himself, “What the Hell is it with you two and manhandling me all the Goddamn time!”

“Did you drug him?” Clyde demanded coldly.

Mitch froze in spot, cringing in terror, then moved, cautiously, pressing himself against the wall furthest from his accuser.

“Well...I mean, that depends on your definition of…”

Clyde slammed his foot against the wall right next to Mitch’s head, pinning his extended earlobe to the wall and crushing it.

“I Don’t Know Your Sister!” Clyde insisted sternly, “And the only reason I haven’t drawn and quartered you like a Goddamn festival pig, is because I want to know Why I’m killing you.”

“Okay, OKAY!” Mitch shouted, pushing his foot away and massaging his sore ear, “Take it easy alright, I’m...I’ll tell you…”

“Fucking right you will!” Clyde insisted, folding his arms.

“Just listen alright,” Mitch sighed, “When I found him, he was a short order cook, living paycheck to paycheck, that said, he still wanted to compete, he was just over the hill, and out of shape, and...rusty, okay, he was out of practice.”

“And this surprised you?”

“Well, Yeah,” Mitch pointed towards the exit, “That’s the Capuchin out there, the greatest fighter...the only one...the only one of us who ever had a chance at the human league, and, and what happened to him, he just became some grumpy overweight dad…”

“Which tends to happen when you retire!”

“He didn’t retire, he was forced out!” Mitch snapped, then sighed, “He got hurt, alright, bad luck, but, the crowd’s fickle, he would’ve had to start back in the minors, work his way back up...and he had a family to feed, so he compromised…”

Clyde closed his eyes and sighed.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“Now, come on, it wasn’t all my…” Mitch tried to defend himself, but quickly gave up, “I made promises, I got...overzealous…”

“Shocking,” Clyde growled at him.

“He was making progress, but not nearly fast enough, so...I decided to help him along…”

“You...secretly doped your own fighter?”

“Well...I mean, that’s such a harsh term…”

“Accurate?”

“We…” Mitch sighed, hanging his head, “Growth hormones, anabolic steroids, and testosterone.”

“...God above…” Clyde buried his face in his hands, “You could have killed him…”

“Well, I haven’t...I mean…” Mitch winced, trying to defend himself, “He’s...He didn’t know, I was slipping it to him in his drinks...but he found me out, he...put a stop to it…”

“And now he’s going through withdraw,” Clyde snapped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Um, from what I’m gathering,” Mitch shrugged, “I’m gonna go with low impulse control.”

“Don’t!” Clyde warned him, “Don’t you dare try to joke about this!”

“I know…” Mitch told him quietly, “I do, but...But I just wanted people to see!”

“’See’ What?!!”

“What I saw…” Mitch looked away, ashamed, “When I was little...my dad, he took me to see a match, mom boxed his ears about it but...I’d never...I never thought we could, that my people could do things like that.”

“Fight in a ring?” Clyde rolled his eyes.

“Inspire,” Mitch responded whimsically, “He walked into the crowd and everyone was on their feet, screaming and chanting his name, they yelled so loud that it shook the building, vibrated the walls, shuddered the roof, I realized in that moment, all the things we could accomplish...when we work together.”

“And?” Clyde demanded, “What the fuck were you trying to achieve?!”

“...um...uh…” Mitch glanced back at him nervously.

“What is your revolution?” Clyde demanded, “What was your goal?”

“I was...I mean...down the road we could…”

“No, shut up!” Clyde knelt in front of him and looked Mitch in the eye, “You’re an irresponsible, selfish, spoiled brat, and you may have just killed your own childhood hero,” Clyde stood up, shaking his head in disgust, “Fucking live with it.”

“At least I’m doing something!” Mitch yelled as the human started to leave, “Everyone else out there, they just sit on their Goddamn hands and… and they just let this shit happen, they don’t even think to climb out of the muck, they don’t try to make anything better!”

“Neither do you!” Clyde snapped, “And, when you’re done patting yourself on the back, you should go check on your fighter.”

He left the Gremlin in the locker room and walked out to see the end of the fight, watching with intense concern while Belix and Bradly circled each other in the ring. Sweat covered their bodies head to toe, mixing with blood that leaked across their flesh in tiny red rivers before smearing across the canvas with their every step. The finished sizing each other up and each threw one last punch. Bradly flew through the air, aiming a straight right for Belix’s throat, she threw a left hook that caught him mid-flight and sent him flying across the ring.

Bradly bounced off of the bottom rope and hit the mat, he did not get up. Even as the referee came over and started counting him out, Belix remained ready, hands up and defensive, not taking any chances. When the ref finally finished the ten count, her body relaxed and she fully collapsed, falling on her butt and gasping in exhaustion. Clyde immediately rushed to her side and helped her to limp back to her corner.

“I thought he was flagging,” Clyde tried to joke.

“The prick got a second wind,” she sputtered through a mouthful of blood

Clyde smirked, grabbing her chair for her and checking over her wounds.

“Not much I can do about the bruises,” he mentioned, already patching up her cuts with some spare bandages from the suitcase, “Could get you some ale though, help kill the pain.”

“You’re just trying to get me drunk,” she smirked at him.

“You complaining?” he asked, pulling off her mask to get at the cut over her eye.

“Fuck no,” Belix scoffed, then looked past Clyde to her fallen opponent, “How’s he doin’?”

Clyde was worried for a moment, looking over his shoulder at the downed Gremlin, then breathed a sigh of relief when the old warrior started to rise. He spat his blood onto the mat and wiped his mouth, then looked over at Belix in the other corner. Their eyes met, and they nodded at one another, sharing an unspoken, mutual respect. Mitch helped to gather him up, head down the entire time, trying to hide his face. As they left, the announcer returned to the ring.

Leaning heavily on Clyde’s arm, Belix walked to the center of the ring and raised her arm in victory. Then with the sound of resounding applause and cheers of grateful crowd vibrating the air behind them, the two of them headed straight for the door and vanished into the night.

Description

[Under Card]

Belix stood by the entry ramp, quietly cracking her knuckles and limbering up for the match. The announcer went through a ramble, welcoming the fans and introducing the fighters for the night.

“And now, making her fighting debut, the ebony beauty Spokane…”

“I’m not from fucking Spokane,” Belix scoffed, folding her arms.

“Are you actually upset because a bunch of drunken idiots don’t know where you actually came from?” Clyde mentioned.

“Eh,” she shrugged, “It’s the principal of the thing.”

“Please, put your hands together for Tiffany the Titan!”

Rolling her eyes, Belix walked out, raising her arms in triumph and letting out a war cry that raised a celebratory scream from the audience. Spinning around as she walked down the ramp, she noticed Clyde following her and smirked.

“You coming to?”

“Was I supposed to stay in the locker room?” he shrugged.

“Meh, whatever you’re feelin’ but, um, don’t get involved alright?”

“Of course.”

She waved to the crowd a few more times and finally made it to the ring where she posted up, crouching on a turnbuckle while she waited for her opponent to arrive.

“And now, making his return to the ring after four years of retirement, he’s been called ‘The Baby Silver Back’, ‘The Tiny Mountain’, and ‘The Terrifier’, but today, I want everyone to put their hands together and give a warm welcome to the to the reigning champ of the Gremlin Circuit Bradly ‘The Capuchin’ Capricorn!!”

Fireworks blasted from the ramp and a Gremlin in full boxing attire came charging down. Running on his knuckles, he easily vaulted the edge of the ring, only grabbing the top rope to flip himself into the air. He landed hard, shaking the mat, nearly knocking Belix from her perch and threw his arms in the air to bask in the adulation as the crowd screamed his name.

“Impressive,” Belix admitted, “I don’t think I can make that jump.”

“I can,” Clyde shrugged, “But, I do a lot of free running.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed.

“I’m not bragging but…”

“You could not make that jump man...just…” she patted his cheek as she walked to the center of the ring, “Just stand there and look pretty, alright.”

Clyde grumbled as she walked to the center of the ring to touch gloves with her opponent, then he noticed the referee coming closer. The man was a large panther-person wearing an orange and white striped shirt, who towered head and shoulders over Clyde and audibly shook the mat as he walked.

“They tell you the rules before you came out?” the referee demanded.

“No?”

The Panther-man stepped closer and wrapped his hand around the top rope and gave them a gentle caress.

“This is the line,” the referee told him, “You do not cross it, say what you will, do what you want, but only from the other side of the line.”

“Understood,” Clyde nodded respectfully.

“Oh…” the Panther-man raised an eyebrow, “Also, if you’re gonna be standing there, you’d better be comfortable with getting knocked off the edge.”

Looking down at his feet, Clyde hopped down, and the referee nodded approvingly, he then moved to the center of the ring and stepped between the two combatants.

“Alright,” he addressed them both, “I want a good clean fight, you obey my commands at all times, so when I say back off, you back off, each round lasts five minutes, and when one of you surrenders or is rendered unconscious the match is over, do you understand?”

Belix nodded, then he turned to Bradly who agreed as well.

“Right,” the referee raised his hand, “When I say go, you come out swinging, alright, Let’s Get It On!”

Bradly moved first, rushing her and bounding into the air, throwing a hard right cross that Belix easily deflected and launched an uppercut into his chest. He bounced off of her attack, and landed on the top rope, using it to swing himself back and send himself flying at her again. Clyde circled the ring and watched the battle intently as the two of them exchanged blows. Despite the difference in size the two seemed relatively evenly matched, Bradly was easily more mobile and knew how to use his weight and momentum to avoid most of Belix’s attacks. Several times he wound up on her shoulders, either strangling her or pummeling her across the face only to get thrown back to the mat.

After the first round ended they both returned to their corners for a rest. Belix collapsed into her chair as Clyde joined her.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Fuck no,” she grumbled, spitting some blood onto the mat, “Gods he can throw a punch.”

“Can you see straight?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Belix muttered, stretching her arm and loudly cracking her joints, “Arm’s feeling a little numb but…”

Clyde leaned forward and ran his fingers across her forearm, feeling for the discrepancy and discovering a lump.

“He twisted your muscles,” Clyde observed, massaging it back into place, “Probably did it when he got a hold on you.”

“Right…” Belix stretched her arm again and marveled at how the feeling seemed to have returned, “Any suggestions.”

“Prioritize it,” Clyde shrugged, “Stay light on your feet and don’t let him get a good grip.”

“And, if he does?”

“Toss him, quick and fast.”

“Got it,” Belix nodded as the bell rang, “Thanks.”

The referee set off the second round and the two combatants continued their fight. Belix took Clyde’s advice to heart and made a visible effort to stay on her toes, dodging Bradly’s attacks rather than meeting them head on, swinging in counter attacks rather than straight jabs or kicks. Clyde continued circling the ring to examine the fight, but soon found his path blocked. Mitch stood before him, stock still, arms crossed, and glaring at the match as it unfolded. Glaring at him warily, Clyde tried to step around him only to hear him call out.

“You know what it’s called,” the Gremlin snapped.

Clyde paused for a second, leering at him.

“Gravic,” Clyde supplied the name, “’The Hand That Turns The River’.”

“Oh? You’re educated?” Mitch scoffed, “You know we invented it right?”

“No you didn’t,” Clyde replied bluntly.

“Yes we did!” Mitch practically yelled, “Gravic is the signature fighting style of the Gremlin people!”

“No, it isn’t,” Clyde replied evenly, “It was invented by Soo Lin, an acupuncturist from Xing.”

“No...we…” Mitch sighed, “Who the fuck told you that?”

“My mother,” Clyde responded, “She was trained in it by a man named Gon Lin, Soo Lin’s twenty-third descendant.”

“Right,” Mitch scoffed, “So he says, I’m tellin’ you man, it was created by Gremlins.”

“It was adopted by Gremlins because it works best when you’ve got long fingernails, or claws.”

“No, no, No!” Mitch shook his head, “It was invented General Havik the Bold, who used it to…”

“You mean General Harrowic?” Clyde rolled his eyes, “Do you even know your own history?”

“Well, I...what the fuck do you know anyway?”

“That your people originated from the middle continent between Xing and Yarba, that when the two countries went to war your country was overrun, and sold into slavery, scattered all over the world.”

“Fuck you!” Mitch snapped, huffed uncomfortably and continued to stare at the fight, “You don’t fucking get it anyway.”

Clyde actually struggled with continuing the conversation, honestly just wanting to end it and move on. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him.

“Get what?” Clyde asked with a sigh.

“Do you even know what I’m trying to do here?”

“...um…” Clyde glanced over at the match, catching a brilliant exchange where Belix snatched Bradly’s fist out of the air and shoved it into the mat before driving a knee into his face, “You mean besides exploiting an old warrior for fame and profit?”

“Don’t you get it?” Mitch demanded, roaring as he jammed his finger at the match as it continued to unfold, “We’re a subjugated race man! We need heroes! We Need people to inspire us to toss off the shackles of …”

Mitch blinked in surprise, watching as Clyde tried to hide the fact that he was laughing.

“And just what the fuck is so Goddamn funny you piece of shit!!” Mitch growled at him.

“Yarba and Xing,” Clyde scoffed, “THEY keep slaves, the church never cottoned to the idea, so, everyone who was bought from those countries entered into indentured servitude, they were released after ten years.”

“Well...well yeah, but we’re still second class citizens!”

“You barely come up to my hip,” Clyde rolled his eyes, “Are you really surprised that you get stepped on every now and again?”

“What, you’re saying it’s ‘fine’?!”

“No,” Clyde scoffed, “But this…” he gestured to the fight, “This isn’t how you effect change.”

“W-well why not?”

“Because that guy’s already a legend, well known among his people, I...I can’t even imagine how many people he’s inspired,” Clyde looked at Mitch and shook his head, “What you’re doing is just scummy.”

“Well…” Mitch looked at him, flustered and angry, “Well Fuck You!”

“Sure,” Clyde turned away, “You want my advice, whatever money you get from this, put it into politics, get some laws passed, that’s how you change the world.”

Mitch glared after him, and spat on the ground.

“Bullshit,” the Gremlin murmured.

Round two ended and both of the fighters looked visibly weary at this point, Belix was even noticeably limping as she returned to her corner. Clyde soon joined her, examining Belix’s injured leg.

“Anything broken?” she asked, wincing as he ran his hands over the darkening bruise.

“Not that I can tell,” Clyde observed.

“That’s surprising,” she grunted, “That was one Hell of a kick.”

“You doing okay otherwise?”

“Fuck no,” she grunted, stretching and popping her shoulder loudly, “But unless you got a jug of booze on you…”

“Fresh out,” Clyde smiled back at her as he wrapped her leg, “Are you sure you can finish this out?”

“It’s just one more round,” she shrugged, cleaning some blood away as it leaked from her nose, “What’s more, it’s about to take a turn.”

“A...what?” Clyde blinked in surprise.

“You didn’t notice?” she pointed across the ring.

Opposite her, Bradly sat in his own corner, tearing off his protective padding and throwing it on the floor. The referee walked over to ask if he was about to give up, and Clyde noticed a telling shudder in his hands as the Gremlin tried his best to collect himself.

“He’s been flagging for a few minutes now,” Belix admitted sadly.

“Tragic,” Clyde muttered, looking past the old warrior and glaring at Mitch.

“Yeah, well, he’s an old man, would’ve hated to fight him even ten years ago,” the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the third round, with effort, Belix forced herself to stand and Clyde removed her chair from the ring, “Alright, I got this.”

He nodded and watched her march to the center of the ring to start fighting again. Clyde marched around the ring and grabbed Mitch by the scruff of his neck, dragging him into the lockerroom and finding them a quiet spot to talk. Then he threw Mitch against the nearest wall.

“Okay!” Mitch shouted angrily as he collected himself, “What the Hell is it with you two and manhandling me all the Goddamn time!”

“Did you drug him?” Clyde demanded coldly.

Mitch froze in spot, cringing in terror, then moved, cautiously, pressing himself against the wall furthest from his accuser.

“Well...I mean, that depends on your definition of…”

Clyde slammed his foot against the wall right next to Mitch’s head, pinning his extended earlobe to the wall and crushing it.

“I Don’t Know Your Sister!” Clyde insisted sternly, “And the only reason I haven’t drawn and quartered you like a Goddamn festival pig, is because I want to know Why I’m killing you.”

“Okay, OKAY!” Mitch shouted, pushing his foot away and massaging his sore ear, “Take it easy alright, I’m...I’ll tell you…”

“Fucking right you will!” Clyde insisted, folding his arms.

“Just listen alright,” Mitch sighed, “When I found him, he was a short order cook, living paycheck to paycheck, that said, he still wanted to compete, he was just over the hill, and out of shape, and...rusty, okay, he was out of practice.”

“And this surprised you?”

“Well, Yeah,” Mitch pointed towards the exit, “That’s the Capuchin out there, the greatest fighter...the only one...the only one of us who ever had a chance at the human league, and, and what happened to him, he just became some grumpy overweight dad…”

“Which tends to happen when you retire!”

“He didn’t retire, he was forced out!” Mitch snapped, then sighed, “He got hurt, alright, bad luck, but, the crowd’s fickle, he would’ve had to start back in the minors, work his way back up...and he had a family to feed, so he compromised…”

Clyde closed his eyes and sighed.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“Now, come on, it wasn’t all my…” Mitch tried to defend himself, but quickly gave up, “I made promises, I got...overzealous…”

“Shocking,” Clyde growled at him.

“He was making progress, but not nearly fast enough, so...I decided to help him along…”

“You...secretly doped your own fighter?”

“Well...I mean, that’s such a harsh term…”

“Accurate?”

“We…” Mitch sighed, hanging his head, “Growth hormones, anabolic steroids, and testosterone.”

“...God above…” Clyde buried his face in his hands, “You could have killed him…”

“Well, I haven’t...I mean…” Mitch winced, trying to defend himself, “He’s...He didn’t know, I was slipping it to him in his drinks...but he found me out, he...put a stop to it…”

“And now he’s going through withdraw,” Clyde snapped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Um, from what I’m gathering,” Mitch shrugged, “I’m gonna go with low impulse control.”

“Don’t!” Clyde warned him, “Don’t you dare try to joke about this!”

“I know…” Mitch told him quietly, “I do, but...But I just wanted people to see!”

“’See’ What?!!”

“What I saw…” Mitch looked away, ashamed, “When I was little...my dad, he took me to see a match, mom boxed his ears about it but...I’d never...I never thought we could, that my people could do things like that.”

“Fight in a ring?” Clyde rolled his eyes.

“Inspire,” Mitch responded whimsically, “He walked into the crowd and everyone was on their feet, screaming and chanting his name, they yelled so loud that it shook the building, vibrated the walls, shuddered the roof, I realized in that moment, all the things we could accomplish...when we work together.”

“And?” Clyde demanded, “What the fuck were you trying to achieve?!”

“...um...uh…” Mitch glanced back at him nervously.

“What is your revolution?” Clyde demanded, “What was your goal?”

“I was...I mean...down the road we could…”

“No, shut up!” Clyde knelt in front of him and looked Mitch in the eye, “You’re an irresponsible, selfish, spoiled brat, and you may have just killed your own childhood hero,” Clyde stood up, shaking his head in disgust, “Fucking live with it.”

“At least I’m doing something!” Mitch yelled as the human started to leave, “Everyone else out there, they just sit on their Goddamn hands and… and they just let this shit happen, they don’t even think to climb out of the muck, they don’t try to make anything better!”

“Neither do you!” Clyde snapped, “And, when you’re done patting yourself on the back, you should go check on your fighter.”

He left the Gremlin in the locker room and walked out to see the end of the fight, watching with intense concern while Belix and Bradly circled each other in the ring. Sweat covered their bodies head to toe, mixing with blood that leaked across their flesh in tiny red rivers before smearing across the canvas with their every step. The finished sizing each other up and each threw one last punch. Bradly flew through the air, aiming a straight right for Belix’s throat, she threw a left hook that caught him mid-flight and sent him flying across the ring.

Bradly bounced off of the bottom rope and hit the mat, he did not get up. Even as the referee came over and started counting him out, Belix remained ready, hands up and defensive, not taking any chances. When the ref finally finished the ten count, her body relaxed and she fully collapsed, falling on her butt and gasping in exhaustion. Clyde immediately rushed to her side and helped her to limp back to her corner.

“I thought he was flagging,” Clyde tried to joke.

“The prick got a second wind,” she sputtered through a mouthful of blood

Clyde smirked, grabbing her chair for her and checking over her wounds.

“Not much I can do about the bruises,” he mentioned, already patching up her cuts with some spare bandages from the suitcase, “Could get you some ale though, help kill the pain.”

“You’re just trying to get me drunk,” she smirked at him.

“You complaining?” he asked, pulling off her mask to get at the cut over her eye.

“Fuck no,” Belix scoffed, then looked past Clyde to her fallen opponent, “How’s he doin’?”

Clyde was worried for a moment, looking over his shoulder at the downed Gremlin, then breathed a sigh of relief when the old warrior started to rise. He spat his blood onto the mat and wiped his mouth, then looked over at Belix in the other corner. Their eyes met, and they nodded at one another, sharing an unspoken, mutual respect. Mitch helped to gather him up, head down the entire time, trying to hide his face. As they left, the announcer returned to the ring.

Leaning heavily on Clyde’s arm, Belix walked to the center of the ring and raised her arm in victory. Then with the sound of resounding applause and cheers of grateful crowd vibrating the air behind them, the two of them headed straight for the door and vanished into the night.