“How?” I breathed, barely able to believe what I was seeing.

“Got good.” Jim shrugged.

“But…”

“All there is to it.” Jim went back to throwing his casual punches. The thuds took on a new feeling- dangerous, yes, but hopeful.

“Scram. Figure a way out, or see me later. That’s all.”

I tried to force my brain back into gear. I could see the basement getting darker. Colder. Jim’s face was getting colder and more remote too- he had pushed things as far as he cared to, and we wouldn’t like the consequences if we pushed him further.

Versai and I started backing away towards the stairs. Desperation squeezed the words out of my mouth- “Can we see the fighters? I have something that belongs to Vinnie.”

Jim grunted. “Really? Fine.”

We got up the stairs as fast as we dared.

Emerging into the orange light of the bar was like being reborn. Knowing something terrible, something of awful power, lived in the dark below.

Versai and I shared a look. I didn’t know what to say. She didn’t either. We just took a moment to pull ourselves together. When we both felt strong enough, I looked over at the enormously endowed and muscled Daphnae.

“Hey, Daphnae, your dad said it was OK for us to talk to the fighters before the fight.”

“The hell he did.” She grunted from across the bar.

“I have something that belongs to Vinnie.”

I could practically see the gears turning in her head. It was the setting, the if-then rules shifting around, changing things. “Be quick then. They go into the pit in ten minutes.”

I nodded. My summons were standing around in their idle loops. Rakim looked reasonably on the ball, but even she was repeating the same few gestures. Took longer for the loop to work through. There were some variations thrown in. But she was locked in the same rigid patterns as the rest of them.

The difference between Four and Six Stars was just that huge.

I shook my head and forced my feet towards a place of horrors. A place I had never set foot in since highschool.

The locker rooms.

Just treat it like a sports anime. You are just checking in on Baki. On Ippo. On those baby fascists on Blue Lock. It’s all good. Maybe later we can, completely by accident, find ourselves in a locker room with the girls from Birdie Wing. Who, okay, would have absolutely no use for me, but it’s a calming thought.

Versai, ever the Vanguard, walked through the doors without giving the faintest damn. There was a short hallway running left to right, with doors on either end. Neither labeled.

“Go left.” I said.

“Why?”

“Easiest way to solve a maze.” I shrugged. She looked along the perfectly straight hallway, gave me a scathing look, and went left.

I knocked. A battered slab of man opened the door. He was wearing briefs, and nothing else. He smelled like the reason deodorant was invented. Not that he would know, his nose had been smashed flat years ago, and he wouldn’t have heard anyone saying anything through those cauliflower ears.

“You Vinnie?” I asked. He flipped me the bird and slammed the door in my face.

“I guess not.”

Versai half shrugged. We turned around and tried the other door.

I heard a Mumford and Sons song once- I don’t know what it was called, not really my genre. But one verse lodged permanently in my skull. Just the image of it.

In the clearing stands a boxer

And a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminders

Of every glove that laid him down

Or cut him till he cried out

In his anger and his shame

"I am leaving, I am leaving"

But the fighter still remains

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That guy opened the door. Torn up face. Nose as mashed as Perkins. Same cauliflower ears. The big difference? His lips bent inward. His mouth was a barely covered hole. There was something in his eyes. He didn’t remember the loop, but he didn’t look like someone going out there with the expectation of winning.

I recognized a familiar odor on him. It was Loser Stink. The special pheromones emitted by those who have given up before things even begin. I had spent a lifetime producing those exact chemical markers.

Loser Stink was an incredible thing. You couldn’t scrub it away, no matter how hot the shower was, or how harshly you scrubbed. I know. I tried. I tried… so often. Then I gave up. It was okay. The 2-D world was there to catch me when I fell.

Nobody had been there for Vinnie. He just kept falling, all the way into the Pit.

“Hi Vinnie- heard you lost your dentures, and I found these. Gave ‘em a quick wash.” Read- scrubbed for twenty minutes and used half a jug of lye soap. “Do they look like yours?”

His face seemed to transform. A look of genuine wonder widened his eyes. There was something almost childlike in how happy he was.

“YESH! My TEEF!” He took them from my proffering hand, and popped them in. A few adjustments later, and he had a smile Colgate would be happy to advertise.

“Boy, that’s better. Been eating nothing but soup for a week now! Where did you find them?”

“Oh someone left them in the coat room, and they got lost in the piles.” I used my prepared lie. I just didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. Besides, I needed him to fight his best later tonight.

“Oh? No idea how they wound up there. Must have gotten ratted one night, taken them out for some reason, and was too pissed to realize I had forgotten them. Thanks again. Kind of you.”

I nodded and smiled. “Ah, we are rooting for you, so when I found ‘em, I figured I’d best run them over.”

That threw him. “You are rooting for me?”

I showed him the betting slip. He took it like it was made of glass. I saw him take two big steps back and sit with a heavy thud on the bench behind him. Wooden lockers lined the walls. There was a bucket, a jug, a basin, and a mirror. Other than the bench, that was everything physical.

There was a smell, lingering, B.O. and liniment. Something else too. Blood, maybe? Something in the smell told you what kind of place you were in. Not a changing room- a purgatory. Waiting to be called to judgment.

All those fighting anime started making a little more sense. There was something in this room. Something that tested people, before they even went out.

Vinnie hadn’t passed the room’s test.

“I’ve never seen the like. Never seen so much money in my life. Knock a zero off and it’s still more than I ever won in a purse.”

His voice was soft.

“Never seen a bet that size in the Pit neither, nor heard of one. Guess it makes sense it would be you putting down the bet.” He glanced over at Versai. “I served under your father, you know. We all knew what his princesses looked like.”

“I had no idea.” She admitted. “He always kept us away from that part of his life.”

“Not very successfully. We all toasted you when you were made a Queen’s Guard. Some “mysterious benefactor” bought enough ale for the whole Banner.”

“He never told me. Scolded me, actually. Said the Army would coarsen me.”

“Dad’s are like that. We might be bursting with pride, but we just want our kids safe, you know?” He smiled a little. “It’s why I fight. Jenna’s five. Win or lose, I’ll earn enough to see her fed tomorrow.”

The room went quiet for a while. His eyes never seemed to leave the ticket. Like if he stared at it enough, it might become real. Some tangible proof that someone really believed in him. Believed in him enough to stake a fortune on him.

“Well. We obviously hope you will win. Not asking anything inappropriate. Nothing that would bother management. Just rooting for you.”

My voice was small now. The emotions in the room were too big. I… don’t know how to exist here, in this space. I try very hard not to feel that much.

I was trying very hard to remember this was scripted. That Vinnie Gustin probably never existed. That he was just a fancier mannequin, a nicer version of the charcoal figures outside.

It was a losing fight. Damn Rosalia! Damn the devs!

“I’ll try. My oath on it. You will have my very bloody best.” The look in his eyes had changed. I smiled. He was passing the room’s test now.

“You know, I’ve asked around, and Pershing developed a bad habit. Leads with a left hook. Not a jab, a hook. Likes to try and end the fight early.”

Vinnie raised a scarred eyebrow. “Does he now?”

“That’s what I hear.”

“Who from?”

“Daphnae.”

Vinnie’s face split into a grin. All of a sudden, I could see how he earned the nickname “The Violator.”

“Well. Can’t let ‘ole Pershing develop bad habits, can we? Daphnae has got a keen eye, too.”

“They are going to call for you in just a minute. We will see ourselves out. But remember, we are rooting for you.” I tried to smile as I collected the slip.

“Buy me a pint or three after the fight.”

“You got it.” I nodded and we slipped out the door as quick as we could.

Daphnae and the brothers gave us a hard look when we got back into the bar, but they didn’t say anything. I glanced over at Versai. “Think he’s got a chance?”

“Maybe. He doesn’t look beaten, for a start. If he can land an early counter, Pershing could be in for a very bad night.”

A charcoal man in the ruined remains of a suit stood at the edge of the pit. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the Main Event!”

“Do you have a backup plan if this doesn’t work?” Versai whispered as the announcer tried to get the non-existent crowd hyped for the fight.

“Use Sebastian’s old army knife and try to stab someone a lot before they gang up on me and beat me to death.” I said. I wasn’t optimistic. I had a feeling they were plenty familiar with knives.

Versai nodded, as the fighters came out of their rooms. “Don’t bother. Just slit your throat. Much less painful and humiliating. Not trying to be mean, just how it is.”

Vinnie came out, waiving his fists in the air, listening to cheers only the fighters were hearing. I could see the brothers narrowing their eyes, and Daphnae suddenly lurched forward, looking over the bar.

“Yeah. But for some reason, I just don’t want to give up. I might die anyway, but I just don’t want to quit before the test.”