Memory Transcription Subject: Jonah Ahab, Human Civilian
Date [standardized human time]: 2 January 2137
Well… Jonah almost sorta expected this.
It seems that, during their stationing here in New York, the arxur have… ‘commandeered’ some once-bustling basements for some equivalent of Fight Club, now with 100% less Brad Pitt. This ‘commandeering’ was more likely than not less of a direct act of violence and more that it was just abandoned and they figured ‘why not?’
Anyway, from what Viath had described, it was… basically fight club but for social dominance or something. Well, they gotta hone their skills somehow. He just brought us here to watch the spectacle, and honestly? Front row seats to alien lizard wrestling without having to pay for tickets was actually a fun use of our time! We stopped by a store earlier to pick up some jerky, for which Viath graciously footed the bill. However they were able to finance it, those in the seats around us greatly appreciated our generous contribution.
We hooted and hollered as some big lummox, “Behe-em,” stamped his foot-claw down onto his opponent’s neck, some schmuck I had already forgotten the name of. On the dusty, questionably clean floor, he managed to just eak out a whimpered:
> “I yield!”
The end of the match was celebrated with much jubilation from the crowd. Cheers and roars and tails slammed against the concrete, and the loser slunk back into the masses in shame.
I leaned over to Viath.
> “Man, wrestling matches I don’t have to pay to watch? What a deal!”
>
> “I mean, let’s hope you aren’t-“
Behe-em scanned the crowd after his latest victory, his eyes soon falling upon me gleefully chatting up Viat. With a sinister grin, he beckoned towards me.
> “You, ape predator. You want to have a go?”
>
> “…Oh, me?”
>
> “Yes, you! Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you!”
As I sat contemplating my options, Viath leaned in to whisper to me.
> “You don’t have to, you know. Just expect to be jeered out-“
>
> “And like that, you lost me. You know what? Sure, I’ll take a crack at it.”
I hopped into the center, much to the amusement and laughter of the crowd of big ol’ reptiles. Viath, having a modicum of concern, whisper-shouted out to me.
> “Human, what are you doing?”
>
> “Well, I have an idea. If that doesn’t work, well, I’m gonna lose anyway.”
Viath almost stepped in to pull me back, but was stopped by the others, as to adhere to “tradition.” One-on-one, no outside help, just try not to kill the other, but if it happens, well, whoop-de-doo.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I stopped on the opposite side of some smaller circle denotating the starting positions, taking a good look at my opponent. He had a good two-and-a-half feet on me at least, which wasn’t good for my chances. The claws and jaws were going to be tricky, but that neck area…
Behe-em lunged forward, taking swipes down at me. With all the swiftness I could muster I ducked to the side, sticking a leg in front of his. Sure enough, his forward momentum kept him going forward, and he started to trip on my obstruction. Recognizing his now imbalanced state, I quickly leapt onto his back, working my arms around his neck. He promptly fell onto the ground, trying to grab my arms as they constricted tighter and tighter around him. Behe-em rolled over, squishing me between him and the cold, hard floor beneath us, but despite his great weight, my grip remained ever true. He finally managed to work his claws around my arms and loosen them, but in a bout of quick thinking, I shifted my legs over the back of his neck, squeezing even harder than my arms ever could have - after all, who needs arms with legs like these? His hands were strong, very strong, as they pried my hands to the sides. It took all of my strength to resist them at first, but eventually, the restriction of Behe-em’s windpipe started sapping his strength.
His hands soon released my arms, now trying to pry my legs off, but in his state, it was far weaker than any previous attempt. I had come to realize that this match very well could be finished, so I shouted out:
> “If you want to yield, smack the floor three times.”
Behe-em struggled for a bit more, but eventually, his claw-hand palm was rested on the floor, and with a *smack*, *smack*, *smack*, the match was over.
I released my legs’ grip on Behe-em’s neck, untensing myself. I rested there for a scant second or two before rolling over and onto my legs as the arxur still lay there, shocked and defeated. The crowd was quiet, sharing a few scant growling whispers amongst each other. I stood over the body of Behe-em and knelt down, grabbing his arm in an attempt to lift him.
…He was still way too heavy. In a bit of awkward humility, I called out into the crowd:
> “Can, uh… can someone help me get this guy to his feet, please?”
Viath was quick to jump in, grabbing Behe-em’s other arm and together, we hoisted him back upright. The big guy, standing a little bigger than Viath, was still staring into the distance in awe and confusion. As he continued gawking, I sorta awkwardly grabbed his hand and shook it.
> “Good match, dude! To be honest, that was kind of a gamble on my part, was not sure at all that that would work.”
His eye twitched to face me, filled with still unanswered uncertainty as to what had just transpired. It looked as if he was trying to force some kind of anger towards me but, for one reason or another, just couldn’t manage it.
> “…Um… sorry, what’s this you’re doing with my hand again?”
>
> “Handshake. Used for formal greetings and partings, and here, good sportsmanship… or, good… sports-arxur-ship? Does that work-?”
>
> “The meaning’s gotten across. Y- yeah, good match.”
Behe-em strengthened his grip and gave a shake of his own before letting go and moving back towards the crowd. I reached over to pat Viath’s shoulder.
> “Well, that went way better than I was expecting. Did we want to catch the rest, or-?”
>
> “I’m getting the feeling that it might be winding down for the night… Plus, I don’t think anything tonight’s gonna top that.”
Catching that memo, I decided to make my way to the door, Viath’s arm on my opposite shoulder.
> “Well, if it’s getting late, we’ll probably want to get you back to your base, right, Viath?”
>
> “…I mean, as long as I get back in time at the morning I should be fine, if you want to… y’know-“
I was taken aback at this suggestion, looking around to see if anyone else was potentially listening in. Thankfully, they seemed to have been paying more attention to the next match starting between two new fighters. Just to be cautious, I still leaned in to whisper into what I thought was his eardrum or whatever they have.
> “Woah, first date, even?”
>
> “Is it… inappropriate for a first date?”
>
> “I mean, if both consent, it’s fine, it’s just a little fast-”
>
> “Plus, you’ve literally been inside me before.”
>
> “…You know what? That is… entirely a fair point! …Where do we want to go for that?”
>
> “…Hmm… base is no good… then again, so would… you called them ‘motels?’”
>
> “…I think I’ve got an idea- Wait, no, it’s January. Way too cold for camping.”
>
> “…Camping? Actually…”