A couple stragglers gathered in the second room. Not all the same people from the first group reappeared. Everyone looked slightly beaten while breathing heavily. Fresh bruises that were forming. Rattled gazes were worn by many.

They were doing worse than I was. One man rubbed his shoulders against a locker. Another had an icepack on an arm. Two were just sitting there, staring at a wall. Probably lost in the aftermath. Still, we were survivors. The losers were either drinking, heading home, or on a stretcher.

"Looks like a real winner's circle in here." The black Pack member had made it through. Wolves had an advantage over most humans.

A few of them chucklehead weakly. The scrawny one from before outright laughed. He boasted about his ability to get out of a headlock I was supposedly able to perform.

"One more round and we'll see who’s left."

"Only three slots," the scrawny one said. "One for you, one for me, and then someone else."

"Why? You don't know who you're going against." The one who pretended to hit on me earlier sounded amused.

"Only two slots. Not three."

They kept talking over my head. Once again I felt annoyed at so many strange voices.

"Well, that settles it. Me and the mutt move on, the rest of you might as well forfeit." That little bastard was cocky as hell.

"You can't be sure," the wolf said. He had a grin on his face that matched a barely friendly tone.

"Sure I can. I'll beat any of you all."

"Who are you fighting?"

"Ain't you. Ain't him." Scrawny thumbed toward the wolf.

"Probably the Teddy Bear then," Flirty said.

"Bah."

"Lucky it ain't me. I don't flinch when getting close. That guy you were against looked uncomfortable as all hell after you got him locked down."

"He was a chump. Money says Teddy over there's a chump too," the cocky boasting one responded. This guy was really starting to piss me off.

"James," I said, and nearly growled before it occurred to me that doing so would be weird. There might be something to that wolf’s statement from earlier.

"Whatever, chump."

"Hey, you gotta tell me, was that Forge earlier?" the black man asked while staring in my direction.

"Who?" I was lost already. No one showed a willingness to leave me alone long enough to try and get my thoughts in order.

"The guy who got you for round one. Was that Forge?"

"Roy?" One eyebrow raised.

The man’s face lit up like a puppy in love. "No shit? Roy Forge?" Was that Roy's last name? That was an archaic one that felt out of place. It served as another piece of contradiction to the larger man’s persona.

"I guess," I said.

"And he's training you? You lucky son of a bitch. I'd give my left nut to be trained by Forge," he said his voice reverent. A pack member giving this sort of awe for a nonwolf was unheard of.

"It'd just regrow. Fucking wolves. The things I could do if I was Pack," the scrawny one said. Apparently no conversation was private in the locker rooms. Typical.

"Thought you hated wolves."

"I do."

"No self-respecting Pack would take on a hateful little worm like you." The wolf sounded pissed off now. Not joking like before. This was more than witty banter. At least they weren’t bothering me anymore.

"Try me. I got techniques for you too. Strength be damned." They were chest to chest. Almost eye to eye but the difference in mass was almost amusing. There had to be a good thirty pounds of muscle on the wolf that the other guy didn't have.

"Maybe on the next leg. If you're really good. But when you lose then I really will take your girl. In front of you."

"Listen, you son of a bitch-"

"No, I told you, she'd be my bitch," the wolf cut off scrawny.

"Like she'd roll over for some hound dog like you."

"Oh, clever insult chicken lips."

"Chicken? I'll peck your ass to death!" Two of the other fighters got in between and started pushing the squabbling pair apart. Another one just laughed.

"Hey, now you're venturing into my area," the flirtatious one said. I sighed and tried to zone out of their nonsensical conversation. Really, it was impossible to tell if they were that serious or just blowing off steam. At least this wasn't putting me to sleep.

Desiring not to hear someone couldn’t turn me deaf. Smarter men might use this as a challenge. Achieving goals under pressure would be valuable training. I smiled and tried to remember what happened last time.

Mine. Ownership as a concept made the huge different in my skills and abilities. I only needed to think this way about a small twenty-foot wide territory. Inside that ring, there was only one master, me.

That was the thought process required. From post to post, board to board, ground to ceiling, all of it was mine. The other fighter was an invader. Better yet, they were an enemy, come to take away what belonged to me.

Dense floor. Thin layers of water. Sweat from feet. Weights press down as figures travel. Air swirls behind one Pink Meat. Furry Thing leans against wall. Huffs. Back twitches.

There it was. That strange thought process that had accompanied my fight last time. I tried not to focus on it, these thoughts were like a bird that would be startled should my body move too suddenly. Breathing was risky enough. Each curl of air in and out of my lungs changed the air in front of me. Made it heavier. Hotter.

Air cold. Breath cools as it exits. Steams. A tease of the fires. Hints. Ready for conflict.

I shuddered as a ripple of worry passed by. That thoughtless moment vanished in the rush of emotion. That'd been dangerous. Whatever had just happened couldn't go over well. My brain registered familiar footsteps almost as soon as someone said something.

"Hey, Forge right?" The wolf’s excited words cut across my reverie.

There wasn't even a grunt of response. I turned just in time to see Roy walk right around the black man’s figure without pause. My eyes were unfocused. Slight tidbits of the world around me were still pouring forth. It was like the bench, the air, the locker walls, everything was an extension of my body. Tied to my own sensations as surely as any limb.

"Are you ready?" Roy asked.

Mental minutes passed as my vision cleared up. Finally, I saw Roy’s face, he was more composed than before. A shadow of anger and frustration clouded those eyes.

"I think so." I nodded.

"Not good enough." His tone was displeased. "You do what we talked about?"

"Yes." I had bent my perceptions around that concept of ownership and noticed a change. Deliberately performing the action was markedly different than accidental.

"You felt it?" He asked.

I nodded. Roy smiled, a slight thing compared to his other emotions, but it was encouraging.

"Forge?" the black man questioned, his tone almost hurt. I guess being ignored wasn't something he was used to.

"Looks like your idol's set on someone else," a voice came from the room.

"Laugh it up, chuckles," the annoyed wolf responded.

"Doesn't matter, I'll break a leg for you," said another one of the fighters.

I felt the lighter person come out the door moments after us. There was something in his pocket that vibrated slightly. It felt like a buzzer, the kind of pagers restaurants had for people on their wait lists.

How did I know that when the scrawny man was twenty feet behind me? His footsteps rang off the walls as if he was made of air compared to Roy’s dense form. My senses were still filtering things through that other sight. A strange glow of energy surrounded everyone. Not something I saw, but a ping, or a hum in the back of my mind syncing up with my vision.

We waded through a crowd of wild figures. Swinging back and forth, frighteningly hyperactive auras surrounded the spectators. They cheered. Their words were pale in comparison to the spastic jerks of energy pouring off of them.

I turned my head to Roy who was taller and denser. His energy was a tight and focused brick. Maybe it was more packed, like heavy metal. A living creature whose every move held only one result, one action.

People were excited about the second round. More people had shown up too. A sign hung off to one side of the room but the letters were indistinct. The ring's framing had been replaced in places, I could feel some remaining cracks. Like a wooden bone fracture.

This was a feeling I couldn't fight or ignore. The world was strange and familiar all at once. This was right, this way of seeing things. I found a piece of myself that had somehow been misplaced.

The feelings of euphoria at my discovery put a grin on my face. Roy left me at the side of the makeshift ring. No clap of farewell, no words of encouragement, pep talks, anything. I didn't need them.

Scrawny got into the ring on the other side. A few people in the crowd cheered for him. Either friends, or family, or just fans. They were in for disappointment. I'd mop the floor with him and no amount of cheerleader support would do an ounce of good.

I studied his energy. Not out of fear or worry, more like a child studied an ant before crushing it.

His aura was slippery and fuzzy. It spun one way, then the other, I could sense him picking moves, trying to find openings. The fight hadn't even started and his body was betraying more about his fighting style than expected. He was a grappler. The boasting about escaping headlocks wasn't just for show.

The old time bell rang and we stepped closer. I kept one foot back, hands loose around my belly and hunched slightly.

He was quick. Well practiced movements flowed into attempts at grabs. Most of his first strikes were testing for weak points. The man was looking for places to slip into for some sort of submission. A larger man might try to tackle me from below and knock us over. This opponent didn't follow that mindset.

I slapped hands most attacks away while ignoring fakeouts. The energy spilling off him made it obvious which strikes were feints and which were real.

Feet vibrate. Body steps. Arms swing against his flesh. Shove away clumsy attempts. Feels like toying with him. Lesser creature. Weak. Doesn't understand.

Patterns were easy to detect. They came and went; a one-two punch, an attempted grab of my arms. Stepping too close allowed him to try and tangle up my legs. Staying too far away put my back to the boards. Neither option was great. Instead, my body fell into the patterns I practiced with Roy and his family. Weaving to the sides let me stay within striking range.

Air grows hotter. Room larger, robs away heat as it slips out. Dislike this air. Dislike these fools.

"Not a wolf my ass." I felt him mutter.

I just smiled. There was no doubt in my mind as to what I wasn't anything like a wolf, or vampire, or elf. The thought threw me off and I started to try and remember exactly what race applied. My arm started itching like crazy. The scent of charred yarn flooded my nostrils.

"Fucking monsters." His voice was low but not really directed at me. The man’s words were more like complaining to himself in the face of multiple failures.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

However I got stuck on the word. Was I a monster? Confusion mounted and everything I held onto started falling away. The power, the sight, tactile sensations, everything which let me have a personal edge drained. A fist connected with my arm and I stood there, failing to react.

Being distracted was deadly. An arm got entangled, joints twisted, and his foot crossed over neck muscles. The inertia of a man half my size sent me spiraling face first to the ground. I tried to tuck my shoulder in and roll back up. Two arms pulled my elbow in and locked around an opposite leg. Pressure threatened to tear limbs out of their sockets.

People cheered but not for me. They celebrated the man who had put me on the ground in a split second then performed a complicated lock.

I shook my head and reached for those other perceptions. Escape would be easier if I could react correctly. During my failed efforts the referee counted to five. I grunted and bucked then managed to get a knee under my chest. One arm was still locked but part of me remained loose. My elbow swung back, trying to connect but failing to dislodge the other fighter.

With one leg I kicked fiercely, pushing the two of us over to one of the wooden posts. With another surge, we went into it. Given another few seconds I would have tried to merge his head with wood. He grunted and let go, risking the loss versus taking the punishment I tried trying to inflict on him.

He hunched over his middle, trying to protect where he had taken damage. I yelled and charged in, no longer playing a game, no longer worrying about my other abilities. Roy's opinion didn't matter. The spectators didn't matter. One thing that stood out in my mind was a simple belief. I must not lose, not again, not ever again.

The other fighter was cursing under his breath. He swung and tried to grab at my arms. I brute forced my way past the defenses and carried us into the ringside. It crushed my forearms while popping noises came from his back.

He slumped to the ground and tried to roll off to the side. I chased and planted a kick near his face. It almost missed. There were no rules to my knowledge against ground striking. He should be thankful I didn't take away his ability to breed.

The room was spinning and my breath felt heavy. I stumbled backward and put a hand to my head. Roy was shouting while pushing me backwards. I absently registered that the fight was over. My enemy lay upon the floor, tapped out and barely moving. A groan of pain escaped him.

I tried to push past the others and continue stomping the man into the ground. This had gone beyond a fight in my head. Either a lack of coherent thinking or utter rage at the world had pushed this into a death battle. Roy was saying something. The ring was crowded. Boards were torn down to let us out.

[align=center]Head pounds. Feet like thunder ripple across the grounds. Little objects bleep. Tones. Sharp, cut through the air. Fingers press into plastic. Want to spread out, want to shout. Claim this area. Mine.[/align=center]

I'd won. That much was clear.

Everything else was in doubt. These fights were hectic. Most chaotic during the finishing portions. None of them lasted long and left a sour taste in my mouth and confusion in my head. It felt like something was missing.

The side of my face was bleeding from something. A rip where my hair had been torn at. Parts of my body burned. Roy had me lifted up but seemed standoffish.

I tried to grin then said, "I won."

"Yes," he said, his agreement was grudging.

Winning must not have been the point. The other task, holding onto that perception of ownership must mean something. "I couldn't hold onto it," I admitted.

Roy said nothing and kept hefting me towards the car. He pulled out a towel and ice packs from a cooler in the trunk. The man had been prepared.

"But I won," I tried to focus on the positive.

"This is not what we trained for." Roy shook his head, got me into the passenger seat, then left. I guess winning hadn't been the point.

I contemplated my failure. Not in combat, but the inability to meet Roy's expectations. It was silly. His opinion shouldn't mean shit to me. Roy was just a man I met sometimes for practice.

Why the hell did his disappointment matter then? A psychologist might tell me this was a need for approval stemming from issues with my father. I might tell a psychologist to shove their degrees somewhere dark, frame and all. Not that anyone would catch me talking to a shrink without some serious motivation.

Roy's disapproval came from my inability to hold onto that feeling. That momentary rush of power that heightened everything. I had it, then lost it, all at the mention of one word from the other fighter's lips.

Monster.

Was I a monster? Those other senses, that strange glowing aura that surrounded objects. The sensation of domination over a place, an object, a person. It had felt real, visceral, and strangely natural. Not an ounce of those abilities bothered me or felt alien. Those traits were me and tied to the center of my existence.

Did that make me a monster? Monsters killed normal people. Monster’s crawled out of closets and nightmares to devour unruly young and sinners. I didn't remember killing anyone, but at the same time it nagged at me. That someone had died in my hands, multiple someones. I could almost feel a wind passing by my face, hear shouting and metal ringing out. Sensations of gunshots, snarls, and then ending someone's life all hit me.

"Wakey wakey eggs and bacey." Someone was shouting at Roy's window. The sudden intrusion into my mental space caused me to jump. Once I identified who was outside the window I hit the button to lower it down.

"Nice job in there, sunshine! I know you'd win. Inside scoop." Steven's goofy face was bent over, a large wad of cash in his hands.

"Here! This should settle our debt." He tossed in half the stack. I scanned it quickly. Based on the bills and size this had to be at least three grand.

"Debt?" I asked.

"Sure, hey, is something on fire in there?"

I readjusted the icepack that had been covering my bruised ribs and sniffed at the air. Sure enough, there was a faint hint of charring material. This was the second time something in here was burning up.

"Think Roy's car is busted," I said.

"I doubt it. This thing's a wet dream on wheels. Can't disrespect a ride like this." Steven started checking out wheels, looking at the hood, almost fondling the curves on the front while humming to himself.

"Get away from my car, Gates." Roy's voice was heavily annoyed. I was thankful it wasn't at me.

"No harm no foul, right boss? I've got places to go anyway, women to woo, you know how it is."

Roy grunted and stared at Steven. I hadn't know his last name was Gates. Or maybe I did, it sounded familiar.

"Oh, Roy, my man, that guy you're babysitting? You should know that his old lady's been tracing some calls made to her cell. Seems someone's been drunk dialing his ex, got her all hot and bothered." Steven's goofy smile delivered the news with amazing cheer.

There was a pause where Roy stared at Steven. I couldn't tell what they were talking about and really didn't care. There was a lot of cash in my hands that demanded counting.

"Get out of here, Gates, now."

"Sir yes sir, Commander and Chief, sir." Steven saluted then meandered off into the distance. I looked at his path, and sure enough, there was a female at the other end. She was attached to some other man. Steven probably didn't plan on letting that stop him.

To be honest, he was kind of an idiot. An idiot with a one sixty-seven IQ. Why did I know what his reported intelligence was? Had Steven told me that somewhere before?

Roy got into the driver's side and started up the car. His gaze traveled to the pile of cash I gathered up.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Steven said he owed me a debt."

Roy nodded. "That he did. Not to you, though, not exactly."

"Oh?" The total came out to be three thousand, four hundred and twenty-one. The single bill confused me.

"He'd borrowed from a loan shark, and forgot to pay up," Roy clarified as we drove down the road.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Gates probably meant it for me. I'll make sure it gets to the right place. You can have the finder's fee and the extra for your wins." Roy took the money and I'm not ashamed to admit that letting go was difficult. He peeled off four hundred and handed backwards to me, the rest was pocketed.

"So you work for a loan shark?"

"No.” Roy’s head shook. “Not for years, but I used to work with one now and then."

I blinked and tried to figure out where to go with this conversation. Roy didn't seem to be lying, but there was clearly something he danced around with his wording. Misdirection somehow.

"Steven's a weird man."

"All families have that one person you'd rather be without. Can't stand them, and murder's illegal."

I chuckled until I realized that Roy wasn't laughing along with me. Was he being serious about the killing part? Steven was annoying, but not that annoying.

"Is he really family?" I asked. Roy and Steven looked nothing alike.

"By circumstance, not by blood,” he answered.

"In-laws. Just ignore him."

Roy turned and stared at me. That angry glare was back, like he looked through me, beyond me. The man he addressed in the car was barely worth noticing.

"The fact that you even say that just shows how far you've fallen," he said then shook his head. "Things cannot continue, James. Not like this. It is disgraceful."

I wasn't sure if there was a good way to feel about this. Part of me was insulted, growing angry with being told my actions were disgraceful. The other part of me understood, accepted it, and mourned what I had become. Being of two minds on a topic was difficult.

"I am?" I opted for trying to peacefully talk my way through this. Besides, Roy would kick my ass.

Roy nodded sharply, then caught himself.

"It is not your fault. Not entirely."

"Whose then?" I asked.

"Mine, in part."

"Care to explain?"

"Not tonight. Tomorrow."

"You can't," words and thoughts were getting hard to form. Being polite was difficult, "just not explain."

"I can, and have. You will need to wait until tomorrow.” He drew in a steady breath then nodded. “This is not something I can undo by myself."

There had to be something to that. Either Roy was blowing hot air around, making small problems seem huge, or something was going on. Was this whole thing a setup? Roy? The group at the park? Was Tal in on it? Or that huge ass dog of his, Senior? Rachel? They all felt familiar and Roy's words were muddling things even more.

My stomach flipped around and the world narrowed.

We weren't near strangers like I assumed. This man knew me from my life before Tennison somehow. Worse, I knew him. I could feel it, with certainty. Worse still, my brain was giving me flashes of the past, images of fighting, being anger, seeing the same people at different times. The memories kept vanishing like smoke leaving deja vu in their wake. It got worse the longer I looked at Roy and tried to figure out what was going on.

My arm itched. The air smelled faintly of smoke. Roy rolled down the window.

I kept to myself while traveling between towns for good reason. Everything my mind knew screamed that revisiting the past was dangerous to myself, to those around me. Growing comfortable with Tennison was the start of a terrible future.

Tomorrow I would be gone. Roy and his cryptic remarks could go to hell along with the rest of this place. Luckily with my winnings and whatever finder's fee Steven had given me, there were ways to get out. I shut up for the rest of the ride, and formulated escape plans. It was safer for everyone.