We left for the heart of Bottom Pit. Where boys become men. Where men become warriors. Where warriors became legends. I didn't care about that part. I needed the violence. Needed to be part of it. Unrestrained. Not like I was at Julianne's. There I mostly behaved. Bottom Pit wasn't made for behaving.
A bell chimed through the halls to signal the end of this round. Both the champion and his challenger would be sent to their corners. Statistics went out. Commentary echoed over the speaker as the judges speculated on how this fight might turn out. There was a polite chirp on the speakers as another voice interrupted.
"Ladies, Gentlemen." Boss Wylde's voice was smooth. "And all you other animals." Cheering rattled the place. I felt sound bouncing off the walls.
Vibrations made hearing almost useless. Everything about it felt familiar, welcome, a second home. I felt my mind slowly sliding to pieces. Unfurling. Connecting, latching onto the objects around me. The smoothness of a railing. Heavy footsteps stomping against the floor. Each faint presence filled the entire building to make it seem a living thing. People were quieting down for Boss Wylde’s announcement.
"Rule three has been invoked." She spoke and more cheers came forth.
The crowd was drunk and excited. An army of scantily clad waitresses were weaving attractive hips through the tables. In their hands were platters of liquid problem solver and hors-d'oeuvres. I couldn’t even bring myself to give them a passing glance.
"I'm sure you all know that House rules override a current fight." Her voice twisted with feigned sadness and the audience played along with boos, hisses, and other decanting noises. “Sorry folks. But we'll make it up to you. Tonight’s rule three comes with a twist. I invite you all to see a Brawl. Our first in three years."
Walls shook hard enough that the place might come down. Four hundred, maybe five hundred voices were cheering at the top of their lungs. Another hundred started chattering to each other. People everywhere, men and women, stomped their feet. Things were being smashed. Between feeling the crowd's excitement and the shivers passing through my body, it was a wonder I could stand.
"I should explain for our recent converts. Brawls are special, my little Animals. Everyone is invited to let your frustrations and anger out. If that wasn't enough incentive, those competing fight for prizes equal to any of our tournaments."
I felt the masses surge to get good spots. Plastering themselves to the sides of The Pit below, or crowding the grating suspended above. It was a welcome distraction as I followed Roy down below.
"Hush now." She snapped, the accent coming back in full force. "Let me finish." The crowd obeyed the command and quieted down instantly. "Betting is allowed. On yourself, on anyone down below. But remember rule two. Everything has a price."
The crowd joined her in reciting it. Eager. Too eager.
"If you wish to join the Brawl, you risk pain for glory. Risk shame for pride. Life for immortality." She spoke in a slow tease that made me feel warm just hearing it.
The crowd held their breath waiting like good little boys and girls.
"Glory begins in twenty minutes. If you wish to join you'll need to see the betting counters and sign your waivers. To our humans, feel free to join. There is the last human standing prize. Also, when humans are present the wolves must keep their claws sheathed, and vampires must keep their mouths closed." Her voice turned throaty towards the end. "Enjoy the Brawl."
My thoughts were so scattered that I could practically feel Boss Wylde smiling upstairs. Impossible without a link. Yet this place, I knew it. I lived and breathed here. My memory was foggy, but the feelings of familiarity were there underneath all the surging anger, under all the shivers of delight.
I was one of the first into the ready cages. Money and glory made people do stupid things. Others were piling in. College kids with more brawn than brains. Wolf packs worked to crowd their favorites inside. Some were fit, some were frail, each one wild with anticipation as they were locked into the cage.
Viewing our surroundings from a cage induced mild deja vu. Objects felt sharper. Primal. The floor was loose and dry. Almost a fine sand. Dirt would swallow up blood, sweat, and tears. Bottom Pit's ready cells were tiny with a door behind and a drop away set of bars in front.
Once the fight started that last barrier would slide away and let each contender out onto the wide arena in front. Afterward, mayhem would rule. Energy rushed over me as I thought about that first step out. That first moment would signal the start of release. Rolling the dice, challenging fate, daring the odds for glory. Romans must have felt this way in the Colosseum.
Roy crowded into the cage, inspecting for who knows what. He seemed heavily invested in this fight. I was being sized up like a warrior going into battle. He yanked the shirt off of me. Sweat ran in rivers and things hadn't even started. I wasn't the only one removing loose clothing either. The bouncer ripped the belt loops off my pants so there would be less to grab onto. He checked my hair to see how long it was. Patted my arms. Then threw dirt from the ground on me.
The bouncer’s actions, like everything here, felt familiar. I shivered and focused on checking out the competition. Picking a target. Do I go for the easy ones and leave the tough people for last? How many humans were in here? Six? No, closer to twelve. At least two vampires, partials from what I could tell. One wore a suit, he wouldn't be a burnout. Four wolves. All of them staring at each other.
They weren't shifting. I wouldn't have cared either way. The vampires were given face guards. Wolves had bracers bound around their arms. Ones that would make it hard to shift in.
"The humans will drop quickly," Roy said, working his mouth around the few broken features he had. "Once they are out the others will have their restraints lifted. Keeps the show lively."
I grabbed the bars in front of me and shook them. This was taking too long.
"Once you are done my tribe will help with the rest."
"Your tribe?" I tried to understand but felt confused.
"I lead them now." Roy clapped me on the shoulder and I looked over at him. "You do us a great honor. You need this fight, so, we arranged it. Enjoy our gift to you."
Roy stepped out of the tiny cage and barred the gate. Only a minute left now. Above the pit, there were two floors of alcoves that the guests could look down from. Others squatted above, watching from an overhead view. The walls were crammed full of people.
Some of the other fighters were cheering from inside their cages. The two that had been fighting before, Holland and Sandberg, were both in different cages as well. They weren't missing out on this rare event.
I looked at the crowd above for a face. It took no effort at all to find Kahina. Her lips were curved in a smile, quiet, tiny, and nearly bloodthirsty. She knew where I was. That asshole Reginald came up from behind and momentarily soured her expression.
Kahina would have been proud had she known that I was fighting because of her. Well, except for the memory thing. Too bad it wasn't in a way that mattered. I wasn't fighting the one person I really wanted to give a beating to. Reginald hadn't stepped down.
Feel her skin. Between us, iron wrought bars. Dirt of the ground hides decades of blood and sweat. Pulses thrum. Voices shout. Words and nonsense. Only fuel my rage. Back prickles. Arms tighten. Legs tense. May leap. May tackle. May watch. Will win.
This place will be mine. Is mine.
For the briefest moment, I hesitated. This isn't just me going one on one with idiots for debt collection. This wasn't me beating up an attacker when I carried silver weapons. This was bare flesh against bare flesh for the express purpose of hurting someone.
A memory tickled the back of my mind. I looked over at the wall of handprints ringing The Pit. Those were all former champions, not only of the tournaments that happened twice a year. Above that first ring was a second, much smaller ring of prints. Those markings were for Brawl champions only. I remembered it. Remembered very clearly. This truly was my arena.
The bell rang. Gates slid down. Chaos erupted. Shouting from the spectator floors above rattled the walls. Deafened us. The world spun sideways as everyone went different directions. One human landed on another, flailing away with untrained attacks. Some were clearly half drunk and wanted the excuse to let go.
The first thing in any fight is to establish a zone of control. Arms length. A few feet in either direction. I swung at humans and nonhumans alike. Some connected, some didn't. We could have exchanged church pleasantries and done more damage.
Holland and Sandberg traveled in different directions. Both were wolves, chances were they would try to thin the crowd out. They didn't put a lot of energy into their actions, instead focusing on awareness of the other's movements.
I had them beat on that regard. My senses were everywhere. More amplified then they had been at Kahina's home. Almost like this was my own apartment. It was wild. How many times had I been on this very floor? The memories were muddled. A dozen times? Two dozen? I knew this place. This arena was mine.
Mine.
I shuddered with a release of happiness.
Small thing lunges. Step aside. Grab it by the waist. Throw into the cage. Face first. Metal digs into skin. Its flesh tears. Makes me smile.
I moved carefully. Three humans were down already. I'd helped with one. The wolves were sticking to the walls and trying to prowl the room. Forming a nearly perfect circle, one to a quarter. I had edged slightly towards the middle.
Other fighters tried to exchange blows. Each one unsure how invested they should be in their skirmishes. It was early. Two humans had sort of teamed up to herd contestants into each other. If nothing else, it might take a few others down. They might be trying to split one of the prizes.
Feet curl against wall. Figure torpedoes through the air. Like missile. Swallow. Light. Duck down. Move fast. Assailant misses me. I drive shoulder into it. Miss main body. Hit legs. Heavy for small creature. Is Tick. Spirals off.
The vampire that had attacked spun off towards one of the wolves. He wasn't the one in a suit. That vampire was getting his ass kicked by three of the humans. It was hard to tell who was winning. They couldn't be pleased because of the face mask.
More punches. More half-hearted feints. A human attacked me, and I attacked back. He ducked around some of the other contestants and didn't come out the other side. I watched for him and tried to keep to my study of the room. So far no one had really tried to mark me.
Behind me, the vampire I sent spinning couldn't break free from combat with the wolf. They threw punches, kicks, snarled at each other. After a few flurried exchanges the wolf ended up in a headlock. The wolf charged into the walls trying to dislodge the vampire. Finally, the wolf fell, face purple.
Want to scream. Want to yell. Will shout down the stars. Rattle the heavens. Challenge the gods. Body is on fire. Life itself surges. Breath dies to get out. Burn it all.
Warnings flashed across my mind. The submerged persona was nearly loose and the rush of emotion caused me to lose focus. I had been mad before, but this was all consuming and barely restrained. The feeling of the arena around me shrunk for just a moment. Things sped up as I stared distractedly. It felt like something inside me was rattling at cage bars.
My distraction garnered a tackle. A fairly well-built human started whaling on me. Fists collided with my skull. I threw up both arms and tried to keep my brain from being rattled. Another human came in and kicked at my sides.
One rib cracked. The sharp pain pushed air out of my lungs. I panicked and struggled with the human on top of me. With a surge of strength, I pushed one human into the other's kicking leg. It was my turn to get back to them. I just had to work through the pain of lifting my right arm. The left fist functioned enough to land a few solid blows. Both humans went down. Either unconscious or unwilling to keep going.
Pit security stood inside some of the cages, waiting to drag out limp bodies. One of the younger ones slipped over to a defeated contender, eyeing me critically. I stared back, noting his yellow tinted eyes.
Ignore it. Feel another. Furry thing. Toes curling against the floor. Steps lightly. Rushes in. Scrapper. Almost respect it. Let the male connect. Measure his strength. Hurts.
I fell forward from a force that could dent cars. The wolf behind me seemed confused. I stood up to look at him. A human could crack my rib but my other mind wanted to let a wolf full on hit me. Never mind, my rib didn't hurt anymore. Both arms felt functional. I was healing a lot faster, or the damage had been less serious than I thought.
Watch furry thing. It crouches low. Doesn't understand why. Instincts say cower. Human side shakes off fear. Attacks again.
Sandberg, the furry assailant I was playing with, focused on me. Either he thought I was easy prey or just wanted to test me out. He was foolish and rushed in too much. The wolf might be trying to shut everyone down so only he and Holland were left.
Stupid. Foolish move. It swings. Grab arm, hook around. Flip furry thing to ground. Twist arm, quick snap, bone breaks. Kick foot into its side. Ribs crack. Hear it howl. Understands why it should cower now.
The challenger Sandberg was down. I had broken his arm with a rush of strength and skill unknown to me. No, not unknown, unremembered. Clearly he hadn't expected limb breaking. I hadn't expected it either. It was too fast and smooth for either of us to realize what was happening.
Sandberg tried to shift and stand. I slammed down on his leg then broke another bone. One of the bouncers hustled in and yanked the fighter out before things got worse. By the time he reached the cages Sandberg was full on snarling and barely being held back. Roy's family had to be strong to control a place like this.
Two Ticks. Two furry things. Three pink meats.
My head was pounding again. This was going too fast. I needed more, needed to draw it out. I stood in the center trying to figure out who was next.
"Come on!" I shouted. A wolf and a human charged me.
This room was overly crowded. Everything in my brain was running on autopilot. Arms whirled as I punched and swept aside their clumsy attempts. The human I spun around and held in front of me. It didn't deter the wolf from attacking.
I used the human as a shield against the first few blows. My arm clenched around his neck until his eyes rolled and he patted on my arm in resignation. The human was tossed aside.
The wolf kept swinging fists at me. The only clothing on him was a pair of pants and those odd bracers. They weren't silver, but it had to be throwing off his senses just a little. I had no such problems. But I needed to meet the challenge head on.
Before I understood what was happening my body stepped straight into the wolf's latest punch. I swung my head down from above and collided with his face. My forehead shattered the wolf's nose. Blood burst from all over as he fell backward in panic. I licked my lips and smiled. He tried to get up. My foot connected with the side of his face firmly enough to remove the thought completely.
Worthless.
One of Roy's family ran in to recover the fallen wolf. Howls from above remind me that I probably just damaged someone's pack member. I felt Sandberg shouting on one side of the cages. He was being held down by two of the house’s security.
Need the battle. Need the release. Unrestrained. Not hiding. Spectators above don't understand.
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Another human was taken out. He was bleeding from where his ear was torn. Fingers looked bent out of shape, probably broken. The remaining human hugged the cage doors. One of the bouncers let him out with a sadistic chuckle. All that was left were the two vampires, Holland, and me. Each one spreading out around me. I turned, trying to look at them. It was difficult, and things were hazy. My eyes refused to focus on any one thing. Instead, I relied more on feeling their movements. Feet tried to stay light as they moved. Weight shifted as they restrained themselves to see who's next.
Four of us, whoever moved first would probably end up being taken out. I didn't care. Nothing mattered besides the fight. I charged the vampire in a suit. He panicked. Maybe it was the blood around us. Maybe it was being attacked. Or the look of reckless joy on my face. He fled in a blur of speed and round an exit. He banged on it to be let out.
His suit was ruffled but in one piece. The snobby bastard probably hadn't ever been in a real fight. I spat on the floor behind him.
Holland made a move and I spun around and smiled at him. He showed incredible reflexes and backed up. The champion wasn't as afraid like Sandberg had been. Still, something held the wolf back. I watched his human face sniff in confusion.
"Come on! Is this it?!" I shouted at the remaining two. My back was burning, there wasn't enough wind down here to cool anything off. I wanted to fan at the air.
A bell chimed from the speaker system.
"We have a winner for Last Human standing. Fantastic. Let's up the ante shall we, my little Animals?" The ceiling above shook as people thumped and howled. Voices echoed from alcoves. "All restrictions are off. Those who stay in the ring now truly risk their lives for glory."
I looked around above us for a moment. The remaining vampire and wolf discarded their restrictions almost instantly. I stopped scanning the crowd long enough to take note of the remaining vampire.
Lennon. One of Kahina's two partial vampires. He didn't look partial anymore. There was a definite sense of completion to his body. It was in the air about him. The way he stood at ease with everything. Swaying back rather than crouching forward. He filled out a little bit. Maybe not having a suit on made it easier to tell how defined the man was.
Lennon looked up into the crowd.
Her. Dangerous Mate. The Quiet One watches for approval. Dangerous Mate nods. She radiates with authority. Body wants blood. Feel her tilt towards the battleground. Almost steps off. Would fight her. Would fight her then-
I cut off those thoughts.
"You sure about this, Lennon?" I asked the vampire. He looked calm at the sound of his name. Slowly his eyes traveled back down to the arena floor. He shrugged.
"The Lady wishes it." His voice was just as faint as I remembered.
"You two want to go? I got no problems taking the winner." Holland was looking slightly winded. The wolf had backed up, making it an odd sort of triangle.
"Fine." I didn't want for an answer and charged at Lennon. Kahina was watching, and while I couldn't tell her anything, I could show her.
Lennon was fast. He ducked to the side and planted out a fist to my middle. It felt like diving onto a pole sticking out of the ground. I grunted and spun around. There was no doubt he was a fully transformed vampire. Kahina's bodyguard was already on the far side of the room. Fangs were slightly out but face still composed.
Holland watched and studied. My blood was boiling now. Not just excited. Not just angry. I needed to hit him. Lennon moved, body a blur and rush of speed.
There. Silent One moves. To here.
My reaction surprised the vampire. His dash across the room started with a pop of motion that I should have missed. When his rush ended and he switched gears, my fist was already headed for his face. Lennon avoided the punch by blurring across the room again. There was a puzzled look on his face this time. He must be trying to figure out how I predicted the movement.
It was slowly becoming easier to use my abilities. Less restricted. I smiled and circled the vampire. Considering what to do. Lennon was motionless, thinking. Holland leaned against a wall, arms crossed, watching. The crowd above was screaming, their cries were almost a drone by now. They chanted names, cursed those standing, demanded action.
The three of us in The Pit were somewhere else mentally. Focused and lost in the moment. Lennon snapped to, rolled his head in my direction and stared straight at me. Then he gave a cocky grin that I had never seen on his face before.
He blurred across the room. I stepped back to avoid the hit. Lennon didn't stop with one jump, making another, then another. Each one getting closer. It was getting harder to predict where he'd go. He couldn't outpace my reactions so he was trying to move even faster. The bars rattled when the vampire spring boarded off another wall, barreling towards me. His fingers reached out like claws and just as effective. Fresh wounds appeared all over my sides from near misses.
There.
I stuck a foot out and Lennon went flying to the ground at high speed. Holland chuckled. The vampire barely paused for his snarl then dove around again. Tactile sensation couldn't keep up for long. He was getting lost in a rush of movement. His body was causing too many eddies in the room, touching too many surfaces in quick succession. I barely got feedback from one object before Lennon bounced from another.
Worse, I hadn't hit anything recently. My head was starting to throb again. Back starting to itch. Each heart beat from my chest pounded irritation through me.
Lennon took advantage of the distraction. His body launched onto my front, springing like the tick I thought he was. Reedy fingers dug into both arms. The vampire's jaw came in for a bite. Elbows bent and my hands inched up just enough to press hands into his face. Trying to pry him off of me. His mouth was close, too close. And getting closer.
The rest of The Pit was fuzzy. Vision honed down to the sight of those teeth coming for my neck. Screams echoed around the room, calling for blood. I lost my mind then shoved his face to one side whiling diving for his neck.
Something crunched in my mouth. A collar bone. Fresh blood welled forth. It felt like the part of his side I grabbed ahold of had nearly caved in under the pressure. Foul tasting meat ground under my teeth. Lennon yanked away and I was only too happy to spit out the chunk of flesh I parted him from.
Then I smiled at him. The crowd went wild. Lennon clutched his hand at his shoulder and looked faint. Eyes darted up to Kahina, looking for a sign of what to do.
Silent One looks for guidance. Dangerous Mate shrugs. Feel her clothes ripple. Fabric brushes softly against skin. Thieving Tick has one hand over her. Possessive. Will challenge him.
I ran for Lennon. He tried to dodge away but his balance was shot. Intercepting him through use of my tactile sensations became simple. The building anger inside me achieved some release as I hit Lennon over and over until his face was battered.
Holland, arms still crossed, hadn't moved from the wall.
I did something that surprised us all. Me with the strength displayed, something I was still unused to exerting. Lennon as he sailed through the air up to a side alcove. Reginald, the Thieving Tick, got his surprise as Lennon slammed into the metal bars between us.
Just enough blood splattered from Lennon's wound to the newly married couple. Reginald looked irritated and Kahina downright pleased.
The roars got even louder. Lennon clutched one arm onto the framing, refusing to lower himself down to our level. Refusing to come anywhere near me. Rightfully so. Security personnel opened one door on the far end of The Pit. Lennon tried to eye the distance and made a sloppy jump for freedom. He missed and landed too close to Holland and me.
I stared at the vampire. Me, I defeated the person who was now in charge of protecting Kahina. I was better than him. Only because my brain thought of The Pit as mine. Because I knew this place. Because whatever the staff had slipped me was making it hard to be friendly. Lennon had helped save Kahina and that simple fact allowed him to walk out alive.
Lennon limped through the exit. The grate shut behind him and the crowd hushed to watch us. A final fight that would hopefully prove to be more exciting than the initial culling had been. More exciting than the few brief fights between then and now.
Holland smiled. He had to be nearing forty but still strong. I could almost gauge how the man played things. Bided his time. Waiting until the right moment to strike. He had probably kept his title through experience and tenacity, not the arrogance of youth.
"You shifting?" Holland asked.
I glared at him. "I don't shift." The words were hard to grind out. My breath haggard.
"Suit yourself. This is the first brawl since I joined this circuit, and I aim to win it." He said. Then the transformation started.
Sure, it was the first since Holland joined, but it wasn't the first brawl. I remembered the first large scale fight. That had been by invite only. Not this open arena garbage.
My vision was full on busted. Staying conscious was taxing. I tried to focus on how to win this fight. It would be hard with no jacket, no makeshift claws, and worse, no silver. Tools helped immensely, but brawls were fights for supremacy with nothing extra. We could only use what we stepped into The Pit with.
I did have advantages, clearly. My strange perceptions of the world around me helped. Abnormal strength brought about by my belief of owning The Pit and barely checked anger were weapon enough.
Holland completed his transformation and the crowd screamed again, thunderous, excited, drunk. Water splashed in, other objects littered the floor. There were at least two sets of panties on his side. The men were roaring almost as loud as the women. It was easy to see why they went wild too. Holland's wolf was pure white. Except for those eyes which were arctic blue. He stood a good head taller than me in his half beast form. Most wolves cringed at high pitched sounds. Holland had enough experience that it didn't bother him.
Things settled. All the musing died away and I slipped into the moment. I was going to kick his ass.
White Wolf lunges. Arm swings. Deadly test. Dodge it carefully. Wolf swings again. Faster. Then faster. Speed keeps increasing. Predicts where I dodge to. Pants rip, arms bleed. Fresh wounds. Tiny wounds.
Holland was trying to figure out exactly how fast I could respond. He wanted to bait me into revealing all my cards. My head throbbed. Eyesight was a useless cone of vision. I relied on the sensations pouring in. The lights could have been off, pitch black, and I would have been much the same. I closed both eyes. This half vision was damaging my ability to react.
White Wolf pauses. Hums to himself. Vibrations deep, rumbles dirt. Mindless masses scream. Voices pelt everything. Echoes everywhere. Like old wars. Dirt, blood, death, the cheers. Stirs old memory. Father's memory.
Attack back. Fingers curled like claws. Tips burning. Singes fur tips. White Wolf bounds away and snarls. Circles behind. Turn with him. Eyes closed.
My head felt like splitting in two. It wasn't pain. It was being broken apart. Like someone was forcing apart a lock to get at what was inside. To rouse my buried personality traits. Worse, the anger I felt shifted to pleasure as we fought. Each brush of claws, near miss, dodge, and redirect made me happier.
White Wolf lunges from behind. Swing at him. Wolf dodges. Quick reactions. Respectable. Almost worthy. Too late to give honor. Too hard to focus.
Want to roar.
The ground rumbled. Bars shook. Clumps of blood splattered dirt vibrated as a thrum of sound fills the room. A trail of dust curled behind me like a tail swishing along the ground. The crowd above took no notice. They probably assumed their actions caused the intensity.
Hell. It was me causing this. Whatever I truly was, was bursting to get free. Rattling the cages. I had to distract myself and find a better outlet than a public reveal. The rumbles tapered off.
Body shifts. Bare toes curl into dirt. Figure leans back. Spring at White Wolf. Bat away claws. Duck past fists. Sidestep his hind legs. Chase. White Wolf runs as only a canine can.
He was still baiting me. Enjoying being chased. It frustrated me that Holland was difficult to catch up to. It was exciting too. Like hunting.
Feel White Wolf's nails dig into dirt. Whips about. Fur brushes air. Eyes curve towards my face. A shape snaps at me. Fall back. Unhurt. Almost startled.
His balance was incredible. That maneuver would have caused many other partial wolves to fall over. I chose not to pursue him through the kicks and claws.
We kept fighting around the room. I backed into a wall. Holland's claws raked against metal as I ducked. Then we were moving again. Exchanging weak shots to the body and face that didn't do any real damage. I could actually feel myself healing while we fought.
Strangely there was no exhaustion from my abilities. My mind felt more primal, but aware. Normally I would be half conked out by now. The Beast drinks, or whatever was in them, had to be helping.
Packed dirt threatened to rumble around us. I shook my head, trying to clear away the sweat and blood. Holland paused too, both of us taking a breath. Neither of my hands could form a proper fist. The tingling that had been centered on my back threatened to swallow everything. I was becoming lost in the excitement of this fight. On the verge of release.
Last exchange.
Stand up. Strike back. Miss. White Wolf is fast. Knows. Change tactic. Bull rush. Wolf welcomes me close. Fool creature. Claws tear at my back. Can't feel over adrenaline. Could be worse. Endurance match.
The half-wolf tore at me. Claws minced my back. My face was pressed up against his body, hugging close enough to keep the worst of his hands from me. The angle was wrong for a wolf. I opened my eyes and smiled, a giddy half grin. Here I was, one step away from death, being completely reckless and self-destructive.
This was heaven.
Punch his ribcage. Claws struggle to out damage my cracking of his bones. White Wolf tries to bend. To protect. Damage mounts. Will heal soon. Wolf will not. Repeating strikes make his body hum. Pressure his lungs. Kidneys bruising. Blood pours out from internal wounds.
Claws at my back slow. I keep punching. Pulp under my fingers. White Wolf howling. Mob above cheers.
I could smell the blood. There was noise in the background that didn't make sense. My vision was still fuzzy. It felt too good to keep punching. Each swing caused another weak wave of bliss to wash over me. I wanted to tear into the half-wolf under my arms. Hell. The crowd had quieted down. Muttering to each other in confusion. My fist was still punching when it became obvious that Holland had stopped moving.
Breathing heavily, I pushed the former Champion onto the ground. He fell, completely limp. My eyes opened to see a narrow tunnel that could only make out one chunk of the world at a time. I tried to focus on the fallen fighter. His wounds were visible. The flesh around them beaten beyond mince. There was an overwhelming smell of burnt flesh. His fur matted with a dark red. Smears across his face and hands. Both eyes felt closed.
Two of Roy's family members rushed in past me. Both shirtless. Both giving me lots of space. Roy himself stood off behind one of the cages. They drug Holland out in a hurry. Their faces were excited at what had just happened. A voice on the intercom shattered the lingering silence.
"And our Brawl has a Champion, my little Animals." The voice piped across the intercom.
I had a hard time listening. The rush of euphoria I felt while fighting was lingering just out of reach. It needed it come back and drown out all my problems.
"For those muttering that this fight was rigged, you clearly didn't pay attention to the leaderboards, tonight's winner is a former Champion, proving that he still has it." Boss Wylde sounded heated about her statement. Then again she had always seemed worked up.
I could only huff in irritation and eye those still moving. Part of me desperately needed someone to get up and start swinging again.
"Those who wish to argue will be treated as if they're invoking rule three. I believe our Champion has some energy left to burn." She purred the latter sentence. Slowly voices above hushed down as her statement sunk in.