As he got closer, Rick slowed. Finally, at only three paces away, Sonny acknowledged him.

“I thought that was you. New to this?” Sonny asked.

Rick nodded. “Can they hear us?” He looked up, as if the spectators were in the sky.

Sonny put his arms up to fight, but lowered his voice. “Not if we talk quietly.” Then, louder, he said, “What, is the scrub afraid?”

Rick had wrestled with whether he could face condemning his opponent to death or whatever it was that lay behind the threats he’d heard. He wished he’d never known, and it said something about who Hector and Manuel thought he was that they let on. They saw him as an opportunist and took his quietness for something more sinister. Almost certainly, word had gotten to them about his murder conviction.

But Rick wasn’t that man anymore. Whatever path his future took, the man he’d been had died a long time ago.

Sonny jabbed and stepped closer.

Rick blocked. “I heard there’s trouble for you if you lose.”

Sonny threw a left hook that landed dead-on, then followed with a straight. Each should have been effective, but neither had Sonny’s intended effect.“Hmm. Badger?” He backed away and lowered his voice. “What do you care about my trouble?”

When Sonny approached again, Rick jabbed and followed with a knee that elicited a satisfying grunt from Sonny.

The older man smiled. “Good. I don’t want no one throwing a fight to me out of pity.”

Rick had never had much tact, and though the years had mellowed him, they hadn’t softened him that much. “They gonna kill you if you lose?” The question knocked Sonny off-rhythm. Rick took advantage by stepping in and delivering his Four-Handed Windmill. All but the last strike landed, but he’d also stepped in and maneuvered his leg behind the older fighter. When Sonny blocked the final strike, Rick pressed into his block, tripping the man.

Sonny rolled, jumped up, and somersaulted forward toward Rick, delivering two capoeira-style downward kicks from his upside-down position. Rick blocked the first and dodged the second, which slowed Sonny, making it harder for him to reorient back up. Rick kneed him in the face as he was rising to his feet, and again Rick rolled backward.

Sonny stood and backed up two steps. “You’re good.” Sonny narrowed his eyes. “You a real-world fighter? I tried to look you up. Ran into a lot of blacked out forms and a criminal report.”

Rick shook his head and said nothing.

“You wanna dig into my trouble, but I’m not supposed to ask about yours?” Sonny dropped low and kicked, knocking Rick forward. Sonny rose and delivered a stunning uppercut. Rick almost blacked out, instinctively scrambling backward, blessedly still on his feet in the slippery ash to get away until his cone of vision widened back to normal. Though the pain levels for the game were turned down, the uppercut had hurt like hell. In a proper fight, it would have knocked him out. Without the Stone-faced buff, Esposito might well have laid him out, even in the game world.

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When he regained his orientation, Rick saw Sonny’s right straight coming at the last moment and dodged. Their movements kicked up the light ash, creating clouds along the ground that obscured their feet. The movement of Sonny’s hip telegraphed an oncoming kick before his foot was visible, and Rick dodged that, too.

Sonny scrunched his body inward, taking on some sort of ridiculous kung fu form—snake, or dragon, or something similarly faux-mystical—before striking out with a flat hand.

“Is there any way this can go well for both of us?” Rick said in a low tone. He blocked the elbow Sonny threw immediately after the question, and there seemed some personal anger in it. When Sonny’s drew near, he whispered, “I don’t need you to throw a fight out of pity, asshole.”

Rick nodded, then grabbed both Sonny’s arms at the elbow and used a low, menacing tone. “I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”

Sonny’s incoming knee struck the inside of Rick’s thigh instead of his groin, though Rick faked a crouch and slid backward as if his opponent had hit home. When Sonny followed up by grabbing him, Rick slipped away—likely thanks to the Mountain passive ability. In the thick of a fight, Rick often became clinical, keeping an aspect of his mind free of the emotional urgency demanded by a fight. The tightness in his chest remained separate from the part of him that catalogued Mountain as a likely permanent skill to carry forward if he ever got into real tournament play.

And that would count on how this fight turned out. He’d offered Sonny a chance—even if it was vague—to ask for help with his predicament. Would that be enough to keep his conscience clear if he beat the man and his bosses killed him?

He danced out of the way of Sonny’s next angry flurry of punches, then retaliated with two jabs followed by his One-Two Jab-Hook, connecting with each of the punches. Sonny reeled back, but recovered more quickly than he should have, likely due to his own passive skill. Next, Sonny crouched low, and though Rick arrested his own forward momentum from his One-Two Jab-Hook, he couldn’t back out of the strike zone in time.

Bam! Sonny delivered a real-life version of an arcade fighter Dragon Punch, and though Rick’s Stone-face passive buff helped absorb some of the damage, for the second time in the fight, Rick saw flashing static stars at the periphery of his vision.

Sonny didn’t let him recover, unleashing a flurry of boxer’s punches followed by wing chun palm strikes followed by even more absurdly tacked on krav maga elbows.

Rick did his best to block the punches, but most got through. He ducked and backed into a roll, hoping Sonny’s stamina wouldn’t allow him to pursue. When he rose to his feet, Sonny was indeed panting.

Sonny had already tried to grab him twice—would he again? Though he shook his head at the stupidity of it, Rick unleashed the idiotic Ooh Yeah Taunt, pointing double finger-guns into the air and yelling the titular chant. “Ooh Yeah!”

As Rick had anticipated, Sonny went in for a grab without reservation, and the more experienced fighter seemed baffled when Rick escaped, then jumped on Sonny’s back, locking his arm around the man’s neck. Rick worried his health might be too low to withstand any more abuse. The lack of a health bar made it hard to know.

Sonny swung desperately, trying to dislodge Rick from his back. Slowly, the other fighter’s actions became less frantic from the lack of blood getting to his simulated brain, but then the more experienced fighter did something truly surprising.

Sonny Esposito let himself fall backward to the ground with Rick on his back, and the older man leapt at the last moment to get better air, and hence to allow gravity to do more damage.

Rick landed on the hard ground beneath the ash, and all of Sonny’s bodyweight piled onto him.

“Nnnnnggghhh!” His word went black.