“Surail might have picked up an extra shift,” Feinel said, slouching in the folding chair just off to the side of the foam mats in the center of the small stadium. “I was off that day, and he is not some trainee. If he wants to work alone, he technically can, even if it’s stupid and dangerous.”

With how Surail had acted over the last few weeks, Martinez could not help but wonder if Feinel meant that it was dangerous for Surail or for the city of Draun—Martinez was definitely leaning toward it later.

Martinez looked around the area out of his usual habit of trying to keep eyes on the doors and maintaining a secure perimeter. While he had been getting better about understanding that he was no longer in combat, being switched on like that for years eventually made it difficult to shut off, or outright broke the switch completely.

This conversation had not given Martinez any of the answers he wanted. Feinel could not really do anything about Surail recently dumping drugged-up people in the ER—beyond writing him up and reiterating protocol. Still, Surail did not care about reprimands, and everyone knew it. He had been demoted and promoted multiple times already.

“Still, that ass has been out of line,” Martinez complained, with Ivorn nodding his agreement, having dealt with the officer several times over the last few weeks.

“I will talk to him, man. But this ain't the military. I can’t control him like we could there,” Feinel replied.

Martinez could not deny that. He wasn’t expecting Feinel to go that far anyway, even if the idea of putting Surail on bread and water and restricting him to half-pay would be a just action.

But Feinel was right. This was not the military, GU, or Human; no one had that power over the rough officer, not even the police chief.

Because Feinel had at least heard him out, Martinez acquiesced, not wanting to press his friend for more than he could give or could reasonably be asked. With that issue as settled as possible, Martinez continued to gaze around the arena, taking stock of the competition his Ruh'ah and Lira would be facing for hopefully the rest of the day.

Hundreds of aliens were spread out amidst the bleachers in small groups, likely having broken themselves up by either what dojo or gym they were affiliated with, not unlike Martinez, Feinel, and Ivorn had done.

Their idle conversation bounced off every surface in the expansive room, congealing into an indecipherable cacophony of white noise. Martinez could not think of any time when being slightly hard of hearing had ever been a boon, but if by the somewhat pained scrunched look on Feinel’s muzzle, it must be deafening. For the first time in his life, Martinez sent a small wordless thanks to the Human Marine Corps for giving him tinnitus.

Competitors trickled out of the entrance to the back hallways and locker rooms in a constant, seemingly never-ending stream. The multitudes of colors and brands on their clothing created a constantly shifting rainbow of colors. Different types of builds and skins were just as varied as the logos: scales, fur, hair, and skin with just as various levels of musculature. The only thing that they all had in common was that they stood tall, proud, and eager for the upcoming biped competition.

As they entered, each eye traced the crowds and competitors as they sized the others up. The sheer cutthroat desire to win flowing off them filled the room with palpable tension.

Sorting the myriad of species that were here to make any friendly bouts a fair fight must be arduous. Still, breaking the competition into amounts of limbs and weight classes like the organizers had was honestly the best way Martinez could think of, and that is precisely how today's brackets were laid out with humanoid-type aliens.

Although that’s not how it was described in the pamphlet tucked into Martinez’s breast pocket. Today was for bipedal, two-limbed competition, with two days before and after for other general builds.

With Lysa and Martinez having the next day off, he might drag her back here to catch a glimpse of whatever type of Martial arts Traditional flying aliens used. That was something he had no impact or idea of what to expect. It might be interesting, and Lysa would likely go for it; She loved martial arts after all.

After some more relaxed conversation between the men of Teacher's little ragtag dojo, Teacher, Lysa, and Lira appeared amidst the flowing group of competitors. It was easy enough to see them, all of the aliens giving them a wide berth because Lysa was there. That and Lysa and Lira were both just shy of two meters tall, so the trio stood out like a nail ready to be hammered down.

Martinez and Feinel could not help but stare a little bit; both appreciated the trio for almost identical reasons, but each had their eye on different members of the rest of the dojo’s members.

Martinez, as per usual, could not get enough of his Ruh'ah; from her gentle womanly confidence, taught and well-muscled build, wan skin, and piercing eyes that languidly watched the aliens nearby. That and even he could not deny it, he still was a sucker for a goth, and her tight shorts and t-shirt screamed that. Plus, her biting and drinking his blood tugged at his heart, knowing it was something that was theirs.

Lysa immediately found them in the ocean of aliens, a brimming smile growing on her coal lips while she waved happily to them. Her adorable dimples were even visible from several dozen meters. She grabbed Lira by the arm and damn near started to tug the werewolf-like alien toward them, drawing her attention from a chat with Teacher.

Feinel’s tail started swishing and batting against Martinez’s leg as they got closer. Martinez glanced between him and Lira and stifled a chuckle; their expressions could not be further apart. Fennel looked enraptured by Lira, unable to take his eyes off the fit and tall white-furred woman.

On the other hand, Lira would not even look at the group, trying desperately to look elsewhere; she looked mortified to see Feinel wagging his tail. Her ears were folded, and her tail was tucked.

“So buddy, you got something going on with Lira?” Martinez asked quietly while elbowing Feinel.

Feinel seemed to have been pulled from a trance and shot Martinez a short glare. “Am I that obvious?” Feinel grumbled.

“Dude, you were just beating us both up with your tail,” Ivorn chuckled, patting Feinel on the shoulder. “Fuck even Martinez is more subtle, and he and Lysa won’t stop staring at each other.”

Feinel grumbled in defeat and glanced back at Lysa, Lira, and Teacher approaching. Lysa was clearly trying to raise Lira’s spirits for the upcoming fights, mimicking short shadowboxing while jostling her friend; Martinez did not doubt Lysa was well aware of whatever was going on between the two Jurintik.

Feinel and Lira were usually somewhat stoic when in crowds, so the fact that both were so emotive was somewhat perturbing. But having known both of them for nearly half a standard year, he doubted it meant anything dangerous. He would ask Feinel about it later, even if he had to liquor the police officer up a bit to drag the details out—besides, it had been a while since he, Feinel, and Ivorn went out for a beer, so they were overdue anyway.

Teacher, as always, was enjoying watching her students cringe and squirm. Since Martinez and Lysa were not on the docket of potential victims anymore since becoming steeled to her teasing, poking, and prodding, it looked like Lira and Feinel might be her newest targets of ridicule.

But whatever their relationship woes were, they would have to wait. Teacher had everyone here for the competition, and she would be damned if they could not focus for the few hours they had to compete.

“Righto, everyone,” Teacher started once everyone was gathered. “So the two of you will be in different brackets due to your weights. Because of that, we have two brackets before you, feather and light, followed by Lira in the middleweight class. Then we have to wait through the welters, followed by the heavyweights with Lysa.”

Teacher shook her head and jabbed at Lysa’s bare abs gently with her papers. “Fer a lass who can grind meat on these. I don’t know where you are putting all that mass.”

Lysa simply shrugged, knowing Teacher meant no ill will by the comment. There were only half a dozen heavyweights at the gym, and most were not obvious at first glance. Just by the nature of their bone and muscular density, they were extremely heavy.

The group nodded confirmation of understanding, and then Teacher turned her attention to the men on the support team. “As for you two lugs and Ivorn,” she said, slightly angling her head in a half-bow.

Teacher, same as always; so willing to pick on her students, then turn around and be prim and proper to everyone else, so long as they didn’t piss her off. Martinez still enjoyed that about the bodybuilder like Goblinoid; she took no shit and backed everything said with wisdom and spilled blood.

“Feinel, you will be coaching Lira during her rounds. When Lysa is up there, Martinez, that is your job. For all of it, Ivorn thank you again for acting as medical advisor; we needed it. Not that I don’t trust the ones the league has, but they tend not to push the fighters. Are there any questions about your roles?”

None of them had any questions about their roles, Teacher explained everything they had to do while the girls were changing over. And thankfully it was pretty simple.

If anything, Ivorn had the most challenging task: ensuring he balanced keeping Lysa and Lira healthy and at peak efficiency while they fought on and off for several hours. But he had on hand the STTK, a small cooler of ice packs, electrolyte-filled water, and a few packs of gummy candy for quick energy.

Lord knew they would need it. If the blocks were filled as much as possible. Lira could be fighting for up to two hours today. Lysa would only have two or maybe three fights, so about half an hour of actual brawling. Go figure, finding bipedal aliens dense enough to fight an Aviex or a Human was difficult. Hell, Martinez could not think of many others that fit the bill off the top of his head, and he damn near memorized thousands of alien's medical data at this point.

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Scanning the crowd while settling in to watch the ultra-lightweight division, Martinez could see a few aliens that might be going up against Lysa. There were some glimpses of who she might end up brawling against, but he could not tell. Most of the coaches and fighters were all in sportswear, so telling them apart at a distance was impossible. Although there was one that looked like a grizzly bear on two legs, which he was sure Ruh'ah would fight against.

Lysa pressed her warm shoulder against Martinez and snaked her hand into his, resting her head on his shoulder so they could enjoy watching the first sets of fights. Teacher and Ivorn made idle chit-chat, with him asking if Sursee might be able to attend classes. If only he knew what he was asking to subject his chipper girlfriend to.

The only two not watching the starting competitions were Lira and Feinel. The two acted like teenagers who had no idea what to say or do on a date alone. Martinez paid them no mind; they would figure it out. But he had a passing thought about how it was odd. Feinel literally fought criminals for a living, and he could not chat with the generally calm, easy-going Lira—it was so strange.

—

Reaching out in front of her, Lira reached for her wiggling toes with Feinel behind her, pressing her slightly forward, helping her deepen the stretch, causing her to involuntarily let out a content near moan.

Now, this was more like how she wanted Feinel to treat her. After she got knocked out for a moment in the first round, he was no longer acting like a bashful pup. No, the confident, robust police officer who really made her tail wag was back.

He had been attentive to her needs every minute since she started her bracket an hour ago, helping guide her with solid coaching from the sidelines by correcting her when she messed up a technique.

But the best part was when she was between bouts. After each match, Feinel supported her with a solid, muscular shoulder to lean on, letting her recuperate and drink water without any effort.

Lira leaned back and returned to resting against Feinel. She took one of the candies from Ivorn, already feeling gassed from her fights. He insisted that having something sugary would help. Ivron and Martinez were the nurses. Who was she to question it? The sweet juice filled her mouth with tart, fruity flavors.

Maybe attending this competition was not so horrible after all. Although she could live with Teacher not hollering at her while standing atop chairs next to Martinez and Lysa. But if that's the worst part of all of this, today was turning out alright.

“Alright, Lira, your temperature is fine, and you can still track objects, so you don’t have a concussion. I have no reason to stop the matches on our end so long as you wish to continue,” Ivorn calmly explained, pulling an ice pack off her neck.

“Well, that’s good,” Lira smirked, “I have no intention of stopping now.”

“Alright, thatta girl,” Feinel praised, giving a thumbs up to the waiting referee, letting him know their side was good to go.

The man turned and looked toward the other side of the ring, waiting for the same signal from the other side of the mats.

“Alright, you got another four fights after this one. Are you gassing yourself out? Or do you need some more water? Anything?” Feinel asked, turning his attention back to Lira.

Was she gassing herself out? Yeah, she was. For fucks sake, she just went twelve rounds with others. Lira wondered if he asked because she might be leaning against him too much; she certainly liked him dotting on her. But if this is what it took to have this lovable himbo close enough that Lira could feel the heat rolling off him, she was not about to stop.

Lira could only imagine Martinez and Lysa chuckling at her awkwardly, trying to keep it together. She held her tail still in the hand Feinel could not see so she would not play her card too strongly.

A pang of jealousy rang within her while thinking about Martinez and Lysa. Those two just worked. Lira had never seen a couple click like they did, same species or not. If Feinel and her would work out, it would be an uphill battle.

He was strong, fun to hang out with, and a good fighter. But he was so dense that unless she was bashing him over the head with a brick shaped like a heart, he would never pick up on subtleties—not like she had not been trying that for months. Maybe her trying a bit more would help, but she did not know.

Many women in her species were fiercely territorial and eager to brawl. But not her; she was timid and wanted to lounge about most days. She worked as a bank teller for those reasons. Others could deal with conflict. That was why she wanted this lug to sweep her up in his arms and carry her like a delicate flower—he could be the protector.

“No, I don't right now. Thank you, though,” Lira replied, her voice squeaking nervously, earning the slightest breathy chuckle from Ivorn, clearly enjoying watching her not just ride the struggle bus but build and drive it too.

Sadly, reality had to come crashing down on Lira’s little taste of what having Feinel being her ideal man could be like. The referee came over and informed them the match was about to begin.

With a reluctant sigh, Lira got up, stretched her shoulders, and tossed in a mouth guard. As she approached the center of the ring, the team cheered her on, causing her chest to fill with pride.

Her mother and sisters were fighters, having competed for most of her life, and she never understood why they enjoyed it so much. Having friends and Teacher encouraging her to do her best and not give up was intoxicating and caused her to hold her battered head high. While she did not think this one time at a meet would change her opinion on actual fighting, she could see the sport in it possibly growing on her.

Across the ring, her opponent looked shockingly in good condition, like they had just walked in off the streets and had not already gone through five fights like Lira had. The Farun’se woman had bright orange fur and sported little golden dots randomly amidst. The only exception was large areas of cream-colored fur on her stomach and face.

Lira did not want to have to fight this hulking monstrosity of a woman. With Lira generally being a nimble, light-on-her-feet fighter, this Farun’se was probably her worst match-up. They were fast and had a lot of muscle mass for their size. The fact that the woman was half a head shorter did not make any difference. The reality was that this would still be a horrendous battle.

Lira assumed the woman was likely a grappler like Martinez; she drew this conclusion from how fresh her opponent looked. There were no visible bruises or anything else indicating the Farunse had been struck at all. That and that the feline assumed a lower crouched position, keeping two open palms toward her, just like the Human.

The referee stepped between them and confirmed that they were both prepared. After a nod, he stepped back and started the fight. Lira and the Farun’se began to circle to the right, gradually getting closer, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Although none of the onlookers had to hold their breath long. Like a beast unleashed on the mats, the woman rushed forward and tossed a straight punch at Lira’s head, but it was a feint. Just as her guard went up and Lira attempted to backstep, the woman dropped low and tried to grab her legs.

Lysa and Lira's extensive training with Martinez over the last few weeks paid dividends. As if the action was built into Lira’s instincts, she planted her rear foot and drove a knee forward, meeting the woman's jaw.

With a deafening crack, the woman recoiled and stumbled backward, a kettle-like hiss escaping her lips.

“Fuck yeah,” Feinel boasted, “Keep light, and keep going.”

Pressing the attack, Lira burst forth and shot a straight kick into her opponent's soft stomach, the impact hardly slowing her down. The woman did not even flinch. Lira pivoted quickly and tried to bring a back-kick into her opponent's head, hoping to drop the woman like in her last fight.

That was wishful thinking. This Farun’se was far more nimble and well-experienced than those other competitors were. Like lightning, the woman leaped forward, closing the gap while the kick was mid-arch.

“Gotcha,” the woman hissed, pressing her torso to Lira. Wrapping her thick, heavily muscled arms around Lira’s waist, she instantly brought her rotation to a halt.

Before Lira realized what had happened, the world was upside down, and she was looking off at the wide-eyed, cringing crowd. The woman suplexed her, slamming the wolfish alien clean onto her head, rattling her grape.

Like a cat playing with its prey, the Farun’se let Lira stumble back to her feet. The world was no longer one picture, and Lira swayed back and forth like a leaf, clearly rattled by the deafening impact.

Ivorn looked up to Teacher, not wanting to end the fight before the master of their dojo tried to call it. Teacher looked back and gave him a subtle headshake. With reluctance, Ivorn swallowed his spit and looked back as the Farun’se loaded her legs and shot forward like a bullet.

As soon as Lira was grabbed, the woman attempted to toss her in a similar way to what Martinez had done many times. Like then, she tried to leap with the force and land on her feet. But her equilibrium was just too far gone.

Instead of a graceful flip, it looked like she had become a ragdoll. The throw was far more of a slam, whipping her against the matting with a thunderous boom. Even Feinel and Ivorn could feel the air whump past them, causing both to cringe.

Without missing a beat, the Farun’se leaped atop Lira and dragged her arm up and over a propped knee, using it as a fulcrum to armbar her. Lira tried to pull out of it, but with her seeing stars and having no air left in her lungs, any attempt was futile.

The tendons in her arm screamed in agony as the pressure slowly increased, and the Farun’se woman resisted her wild thrashing like a cowboy atop a bucking bronco. Any training she had done was out the window; Lira was panicking, going only on instincts, unable to generate a coherent thought in her fogged mind.

“Lira, you have to calm down and roll into it,” Feinel coached, not that it mattered.

The referee stepped in, able to tell by Lira’s near glass-like eyes the fight was over, stopping it before the Farun’se snapped her arm like a twig. This was a competition, not a genuine battle, and no one needed to get needlessly hurt.

The moment the referee stepped closer, the woman let Lira flop to the mats. Sitting next to her. As Ivron ran in to assess the fighter, Lira’s mind somewhat cleared, but not much. It was just enough for her to realize how badly her lungs burned and her head throbbed.

“Holy fuck, that hurts,” Lira groaned, running her claws through the fur near her ears.

“By the stars, are you alright?” The Farun’se woman questioned, frantic worry in her eyes.

“I think,” Lira groaned, trying to sit up, but was stopped by Ivorn.

“Hold on there, let me check you out first,” Ivron insisted, having already pulled out the gear he wanted from the STTK.

It took Ivorn no time at all to ensure Lira was alright. She would be physically sore for a few days because her elbow was slightly hyper-extended, but not enough for concern so long as it was iced and treated gingerly. But that did not hurt quite like her pride. Lira wanted to win; even though she was strong-armed here by Teacher she had been having fun winning until now.

“Hey, you did a good job,” the Farun’se said, patting Lira on the shoulder after Ivorn helped her stand.

“What do you mean you thrashed me?” Lira replied.

“Nah, don’t sweat it. You will get me next time,” The Farun’se said with a brimming, fang-filled smile, extending a set of knuckles for Lira.

Not wanting to be rude and having learned how important etiquette was during matches, Lira bumped a fist into the woman. “Yeah, next time—uh?”

“Sundet,” the woman assured.

“Sundet, alright. I’m Lira, thanks for the match,” Lira smiled.

“It was fun. Get some rest Lira,” Sunset said before turning and damn near skipping to her team waiting just outside the ring.

Stepping and stumbling for a moment, Lira did the same, walking alongside Ivorn toward Feinel. To Lira’s shock, Feinel did not look disappointed. His tail wagged, and he had an infectious smile as bright as sunlight.

The moment he was close, Feinel offered her a shoulder and supported her as they walked toward the rest of the team.

“Good job, Lira. You did your best,” Feinel whispered.

Not even attempting to hide it, Lira let her tail wag as quickly as her fluttering heart. Even if she got knocked out of the competition halfway through and wanted to keep going, she was going to take Feinel’s praise as a consolation prize.

Besides, she could get him to take care of her for the rest of the afternoon while Lysa fought. And if anyone was going to win their bracket, it would be that combat junkie. All Lira had to do now was rest, relax, and watch her best friend dominate the competition.