Chapter 10: Angels with Dirty Faces

The Arena was crowded again, as expected. People brushed on by as Horton, Argos, and Foxy were standing just outside the side entrances which led to the seats. Fortunately, the few people who did recognize them were more concerned with the fight about to happen.

The sign hung right above the entryway, same as before. Filled out with every upcoming match, tournament brackets, and team names.

'The Angels'

"It's a bit simple of a name, don't you think?" Foxy commented, nudging Horton's arm.

"All team names are," Argos explained, "makes them easier to remember."

"Yeah, but… Angels? Really? Not Angels of the Arena, or Emissaries of the Dead?"

"Emissaries? That's a big new word, coming from you…" Horton teased.

"I've been reading!" Foxy said, "Look, it just seems a bit plain is all."

"Oh quiet, it's not that bad. Besides, we're The Castoffs, we're not exactly writing literature here," Horton said, finally moving past the sign and pulling Foxy along to the entryway. "Come on, let's get some seats before they're all taken."

"Aye, whatever, I just hope they're good."

"Oh believe me, they are."

The three of them made their way up the stairs. Foxy, being excited at every little chance to use his new legs, was particularly annoyed by how slowly everyone in front of him was walking up the steps. After what was definitely way longer than it should've been, the three of them finally got out of the stairs, squeezed their way past row after row of people, until finally they found a decently open spot to take their seats.

"I don't remember it being this crowded," Horton muttered.

"There's a lot more people in the Hellmouth than the last time you watched a match," Argos answered.

Foxy's ear perked up at that. "Wait, how long has it been since you've seen a fight?"

The owl jolted, "Two years, eight months, twelve days, thirty-four minutes and eighteen seconds."

"That was very… specific."

"...Sorry about that. Old habits die hard, especially when they're hard-coded into your programming."

"I never did ask, what did you do before you came to the Hellmouth?"

"I was an assistant at a, let's say, well-funded public library. Argos here was more or less the same, he was a sort of do-it-all helper at a metalworking studio."

"Educational metalworking studio. It was for apprenticeships," Argos clarified.

"Right, right," Horton trailed off, "...I don't believe you ever told us what you were doing before this, Foxy?"

The vulpine winced. Probably best not to mention what brought him down here, that was not something they needed to get into now, maybe even ever.

"I was a children's entertainer, more or less."

Horton and Argos both paused. Horton was clearly shocked, and Argos even lifted his brow. A monumental facial expression for the lizard.

"A… children's entertainer?"

"What?"

"Foxy we watched you kill a man, and gut another. And you're telling me you did, what, sang to human children?"

"Yeah actually! I liked to ham up the pirate accent, do a few sea shanties," he said, sounding genuinely excited, "Way-hay and up she rises, earl'ay in th' mornin'. All that good stuff."

"What the fuck."

"What the fuck yourself, you haven't been to a fight in years?"

"I… Listen, I don't-"

"He almost never leaves the house anymore," Argos interrupted.

"I do too!" Horton protested.

"Name three times before Foxy arrived."

The owl stammered, but ultimately said nothing.

The three of them quickly became quiet as a black and red wolf stepped out onto the announcer's platform. The fight was going to start soon. As Mikhail began his speech, exciting the crowd, Foxy's attention all but wandered off to the arena.

Off to the sides, the large gates holding the fighters back from entering the ring were still shut. In the dark tunnels behind them, it was nearly impossible to tell who was in each one. Foxy was imagining what kind of team he was going to see today; they had to be something special with how high of a regard Argos and Horton held them at.

The vulpine's attention snapped back to Mikhail.

"-Now, let us see today's fighters! From the north, we have The Firehearts!"

As he announced their name, the north gate opened. The crowd's cheers grew as three figures walked out. All three of them were wolves, their fur clearly dyed, painted, or otherwise colored to a bright fiery orange. Over their fur, each of them wore plates of protective metal tied together all over their bodies.

"That's a lot of armor," Foxy commented.

"It's a very high rank match," Horton explained, "at this high up it's common to find fighters with plenty of equipment."

Foxy nodded, that certainly seemed to be the case seeing these guys. They all carried axes with them, double-bladed ones at that.

"Still though," Horton continued, "that's certainly a lot more armor than you usually see."

"It's limiting their movement," Argos added.

Sure enough, just as he said that, one of the wolves turned to get a look at the crowd. He had to turn his entire upper chest just to look to the side.

"-and at the south, The Devils!"

Foxy raised an eyebrow. The crowd erupted in cheers- it was almost deafening for the vulpine. Foxy had to yell just to get Horton to hear his question.

"I thought their team name was The Angels?"

"It is. Thing is, no one calls them that. Usually it's The Devils, or sometimes Angel's Devils… or was it Devil's Angels?"

"Why though?"

"They're ruthlessly efficient fighters, but they never kill anymore. The crowd thinks of it as if they're making sure everyone stays down here in the Hellmouth."

"Huh, that's kinda… weird. Why'd you wanna do that? Killing gets you more scrap right?"

"Precisely. So, 'why' indeed…"

At that moment, the trio walked out of the tunnels and into the open arena. Foxy had to do a double take.

It was the group he kept seeing over the past few days. Two of them had similar get-ups; clearly being focused more on agility and movement, instead of raw power like the third of them.

One was a grey hawk, the muted color covering most of her body and drawing attention to the single, small yellow spot across her beak. Her forearms and lower legs faded to a pitch black, along with the tips of the plumage atop her head. Just as dark was her cold glare; if a robot could have dark spots under their eyes, she definitely would. Besides wearing simple clothes, the only thing she had in terms of protection was a series of plates covering her main extremities. She clutched a long metal staff, with a blade the length of a short sword on one end.

Foxy shifted his gaze to the left of the hawk, landing on a jade-blue lizard. Her entire form looked as if she was supposed to be sleek, but was made jagged thanks to numerous cuts, scars, and gashes that had since been patched up with metal scrap covering them. She was much more armored than the others, wearing metal braces, shoulder guards, and plating over her legs and chest. Even without the armor, she was huge. Foxy couldn't be sure from this distance, but she was probably even taller than Argos, which meant she'd absolutely tower over him. In her clawed hands, she grasped two weapons. A hatchet, and a hammer.

In front of them both was a vixen sporting the same armor as the hawk behind her. She had a deep, sangria red pelt that matched her flowing locks of hair, save for a single white stripe that nestled in between. Her hair was tied into a long ponytail, almost seeming like it taunted her opponents to try and grab it. She carried a short sword in each hand, handling each blade with a relaxed, confident grip like it was a part of herself. The armor that covered her upper body cascaded down her shoulders and torso, folding in with the movement of her body as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The vixen also wore a red shirt and skirt past the armor's edges, contrasting the steel plating that, despite all the wear and tear, shimmered in the bright lights above them.

"Foxy, I get half the crowd staring, but you too?"

"...Who are they?"

Horton rolled his eyes before humoring the question.

"Penny is the hawk, Liz is the… salamander? I don't really know what the manufacturers had in mind with her design beyond 'vague lizard.'"

"And her?" Foxy asked, gesturing to the vixen in the very front of the group.

"That'd be Scarlet."

Her gaze seemed to carry an indescribable weight to it, like someone who knew that they had a duty to fulfill and a family to protect. Someone who had burdened themselves with the responsibility of others.

Foxy knew that look, it was something he had seen in Freddy's eyes time and time again.

The vulpine felt his breath hitch as she scanned the crowd, briefly locking eyes with him.

He couldn't really see her expression from this distance, but something about how she was staring him down felt threatening, like she was assessing prey.

But that only made sense. He was the freshest face in the ring, and he was already making a name for himself, what with the famous mechanics and the bullfighting. Figures she'd want to have a better idea of what he was capable of before they were pitted against each other in the ring... If he even makes it that far.

And assess him she did. Red fur, lighter than hers, some patches of it missing here and there exposing his similarly colored metal plating. Wide shoulders, but an overall thin if not scrawny frame. A giant hole in his chest like a large gash, exposed his wiring. Also an eye patch, but she wasn't convinced he was missing an eye, unlike his ears. Or ear, in this case. One was beaten, the other was broken off entirely with nothing but metal framework poking out. Pair that with his only clothes being the raggedy oil-stained disaster he called pants, and he looked almost sickly.

Like all it'd take is one good punch and he'd completely fall apart.

The last time she saw him, he did. She still remembered him flying in the air, accompanied by various bits and pieces of his own parts. She especially remembered the sound his legs made when they knocked into the wall before landing in the sand.

Speaking of...

"He's got new legs."

The grey hawk beside Scarlet paused, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"The new guy," Scarlet said, gesturing one of her swords in the vague direction of where Foxy sat in the crowd, "He's already replaced his legs."

Penny didn't look so obviously in his direction, instead carefully scanning her tired eyes over the crowd before landing on the pirate wannabe.

"Huh, so he does."

"Should've gone for a peg leg," Scarlet joked.

"Can we focus on the fight please?"

The two of them turned to Liz, who was striding right past them. Eager wasn't really the word for it, she wasn't particularly excited to fight. Moreso impatient.

"Liz, chill out."

"Yeah yeah… I just want this over with already."

The jade lizard glanced at where Scarlet had pointed.

"Besides, you two are acting awfully surprised about his legs considering he's with the two best mechanics around."

"...Fair enough," Scarlet remarked, noticing that Liz seemed almost jittery as she stared down the other team, constantly fidgeting with the handle of her hatchet.

"You don't need to worry so much," Scarlet said, "these guys are amateurs. We'll be fine."

"We'll be fine when we're out of the ring, until then, none of us are safe as far as I'm concerned."

Penny looked over at the three heavily armored wolves across the arena. "So, what's the plan for these three?"

Scarlet had scanned the other team for little more than a few seconds before her eyes landed on the spaces between their armor plating.

"They're too reliant on their armor, and they've got no range. Liz, you keep them busy. Penny and I will cut the ropes holding their plating together. After that, knock 'em down, blades to the throat-"

"And make 'em owe us," Liz interjected.

"Same shit, different day." Penny said.

Scarlet gripped her swords, knowing it was about time for the match to start.

"As always."

Spring Bonnie gave the signal to Mikhail to begin the match. The wolf raised his arm.

"BEGIN!"

The three armored wolves charged all together rushing towards the devils, who immediately split up, with Liz staying put as she braced for the fight.

Just as the first of the wolves lunged at the lizard, she swung her hammer, knocking it right into their helmet with a resonant clang. The wolf stumbled back, but Liz didn't even bother finishing him off just yet, already backstepping to avoid an attack from another.

The third one had circled around hoping to catch her off guard, but before he even began to attack, Liz had already knocked his chin with her hammer, dazing him before tripping him with her tail as she turned to keep her eyes on the other two.

She held her ground, all three of the wolves constantly trying to get even a single good hit in, only being blocked or countered every time.

One of the wolves backed off, they had been focused on just one of them for too long. Something was up. Almost as if in response to that thought, the wolf felt a sudden presence behind him. He spun, blindly swinging his axe at whoever tried to catch him off guard.

Back a step to avoid the axe, was the vixen. She lunged at him with both swords, rapidly swinging at him from every angle she could manage. Each swing was perfectly timed with the next to make sure that the wolf never had a chance to go on the offensive. But he had the armor, he could outlast her easily so long as he protected only a few vulnerable spots.

She seemed to know that though, every strike poised towards his face, neck, or joints.

Just as she had begun to show even the slightest hint of growing tired, an audible slice brought the wolf to a stop.

Penny had positioned herself behind him, and with only one precise swing, cut the ropes holding the wolf's back plating up with her spear. The armor fell to the sand with a muted thud. Panicking, he charged at the hawk, who with another effortless swing cut off his chest plate.

He was completely exposed now, no armor to cover his main extremities. He didn't even have a chance to react before the hawk closed in, sweeping the wolf's legs with the blunt end of her spear before pinning him to the ground.

Seeing that he had been dealt with, Scarlet joined Liz in attacking the remaining two wolves from behind, cutting at the ropes of their armor every chance she had. The two of them hadn't even seen what happened to their teammate, and had no idea that she was aiming for their armor, not them. They guarded their vitals, and Scarlet's swords whizzed right on by before cleanly cutting through the rope.

Their backs were exposed.

Liz saw the opportunity and didn't waste a second, head-butting the closest wolf. Even with a helmet, the wolf was completely dazed, the force of the impact nearly knocking him over. The lizard grabbed their head and threw them to the ground, pinning them down with her axe at their neck.

At the same time, Scarlet had the last one dealt with. As soon as she had cut off their armor, she brought one sword around their front and held it against their throat, and pressed the other into his back, cutting into the faux skin enough to get the point across.

"We let you live, you owe us."

The wolf with the sword up against his neck said nothing, shaking while he slowly raised his hands in compliance.

'Why had the victors just passed up a chance to kill?'

The match was already over. Not even half the time Foxy took and they had a clean victory. 'Ruthlessly efficient' was an understatement. Foxy had been staring the entire fight, completely entranced by every move. It was like watching a perfectly tuned machine at work, every move seemingly planned out minutes ahead of time. Those wolves were never even a threat.

"Foxy."

That vixen, whoever she was, she was the best damn fighter he'd ever seen. And yeah, to be fair, he hadn't seen a lot of fighters. But he doubted he'd see any that topped that anytime soon. Somehow she carried the elegance of a dancer, while at the same time hitting with the brutality of an avalanche. That, and somehow also the precision of a surgeon, all while looking like she'd rolled off an assembly line yesterday.

"Foxy, hello?"

The way she fought, the way she moved, she made violence seem like an art form. The vulpine had no idea how they got their oxymoronic name, but he knew for sure that they were living up to it, one of them more than the others. Who was she-

"Foxy!"

The vulpine felt a light smack on the back of his head. Knocked back to attention, he glanced around him, finding Horton already standing up.

"What?"

"The match ended a minute ago Foxy," Horton said,"...something catch your eye or what?"

"Oh, uh, sorry. Just… appreciating the fighting."

Horton followed the vulpine's line of vision to the arena, landing on a particular crimson fox.

"Right… Well if you two could gawk a little less, that'd be magnificent. We're supposed to be keeping a low profile, remember?"

"Aye, sorry 'bout that… Wait, you two?"

Foxy leaned over to look past Horton. Sure enough, Argos was locked onto the arena as well, wearing a similarly dumbstruck expression on his face. To a lesser degree of course, displaying emotion wasn't the lizard's best ability, but it was unmistakable now that Foxy had gotten used to deciphering his expressions.

Following his line of sight, the vulpine ended up looking at the armored jade-blue lizard who was busy inspecting herself for new scars. She was a skilled fighter to say the least. She held her own against three fighters Foxy would for sure have lost to, and the sheer brute force of her attacks was unbelievable. The sound of that last headbutt made the vulpine jump when he was watching.

"So do you two want to stay, or are we going home?"

"N-no, it's good. We can go home."

Snapping out of his trance again, Argos simply nodded before standing up.

Scarlet watched as the two mechanics and the russet vulpine got up and made their way out of the stands.

Her tail flicked behind her.

Something had indeed caught her eye.

"So," Horton started, "any thoughts on the fight?"

The three of them were past the city center now, just on the long walk back home where it tended to be a lot more quiet.

"How the hell aren't they in ranked fights already?" Foxy said, "They're incredible! How long have they been here?"

"Years," Horton answered. "They've been here for a while now. Lasted longer than any other fighters I've seen. As for why they aren't in ranked fights, I have one theory."

Foxy raised an eyebrow, "Go on."

"Do you remember what I said about how the highest ranked fights work?"

"Uh… once you win enough, you get put into a top ten bracket, and from there the winner gets to take on the ringleader?"

"Yes, but there was more."

Foxy's eyes lit up.

"...and from there on out teams are split up, all fights are one-on-one!"

"Exactly!"

"So they're doing it on purpose then, to stick together?"

"That's my theory. Every time they get to a qualifying match, they always concede the kill. My bet is they let their opponents live as an agreement to guarantee when they lose on purpose, they won't die."

"That's gotta be it. They're losing out on too much scrap by letting everyone live, at least to not be getting something else out of it."

"Now," Horton continued, "where they keep getting enough scrap to repair themselves is beyond me."

"Probably by stealing from the scrapyard," Argos off-handedly mentioned.

"What, are you crazy? That'd get them all killed," the owl replied. "Actually, come to think of it, didn't there used to be a fourth fighter on their team?"

"Yeah, it was Lana, right?"

Foxy stopped as Horton and Argos kept walking.

"Foxy?"

The vulpine stood there, frozen mid-step as he processed what he'd just heard.

Horton waved a wing in front of his face.

'Lana, right?'

Foxy slowly hooked his thumbs under his chin, pointing his metal digits to a steeple as he covered his snout.

"What were the odds," he mumbled.