The Champ vs. . . Shaad?
"You look happy," Shaad commented to a cheering Raine as he walked back to his seat in the underground auditorium. Flashing his eyes over the two men that he'd left her alone with unconscious on the floor, he added, "Have fun?"
"A little," she cooed to Shaad with a coquettish smile, sitting down and deliberately crossing her long, toned legs as the fight in the cage finished. "You also look quite pleased with yourself. What were you doing, I wonder?"
"I guess you could say I was placing a bet."
"I hope it's a good one."
"We'll just have to wait and see; this bet has a fairly long payout." The pair turned away from each other and back to the ring as the arena lights dimmed and the announcer readied for the main event. Hype music blaring throughout the hidden enclave, spectators filed in en masse as the much anticipated finale finally arrived. Last minute bets were made under the table and illicit business exchanges were conducted on tremendous scale as the announcer's voice roared the traditional promotional spiel for both fighters to bring the collective excitement to its natural crescendo.
". . . And it begins now." Shaad's declaration distracted Raine from the raging noise just as the auditorium reached peak capacity, bursting at the seams with a myriad of unbridled emotions.
She wanted to ask what he meant, but the cheers became deafening as the undefeated challenger, Jay 'Bad Intentions' Maddox, was introduced. Jay was a well renowned fighter in the underground circuit of the island, known far and wide as a brutal powerhouse. His many scars told the stories of his past bouts for those who knew him well, and his fists were widely regarded as possibly the hardest in all of West Blue.
Cheers and hollers shook the room and the hotel's foundation as the rambunctious crowd waited out the ticking seconds, listening to the familiar anthem resonate as video of the challenger's past beat downs played on a large screen. But, those roars of anticipation soon faded, turning to howls of frustration as there were still no signs of 'Bad Intentions' approaching the cage.
"What the hell is going on?" Raine complained as the time spent waiting neared five minutes.
"I am," Shaad responded flatly, rising from his seat as a frantic staff member whispered something unintelligible to the ringside manager all the way down on the arena floor, drawing a sour scowl from the burly, tattooed man as he instructed something back.
Shaad strolled onto the arena floor, past security and the V.I.P.s, without a care, met by the scene of the ringside manager and the announcer having an intense discussion. He overheard someone mention that Jay Maddox was found unconscious in the fighters' holding tunnel along with the three guards' dead bodies. The other fighters provided no clue for what was going on so the entire staff was in a frenzy.
"I don't care what you say; say he fell ill," Shaad heard the manager shout to the announcer to make an official announcement. "We don't have any other fighters ready, so unless you wanna step in there with that madman, we have to call the match."
Shaad listened to them continue to bicker and rant until he felt they were almost through when the announcer finally relented and only commented, "Mr. Sangre's not gonna be happy we had to give refunds."
"That's why we're not gonna tell him. We'll hold an extra show before he comes back to more than make up for it."
"Or," Shaad interjected, approaching the pair with a confident grin. "You could pit me against this 'champion'."
The two broke their exchange to gawk at the audacious young man before the manager called for security and about eight large men, all seemingly capable, surrounded Shaad.
The young pirate captain let an annoyed sigh escape his lips, not bothering to acknowledge the pistols pointed at him any more than that as he continued speaking. "These people came to see the champion fight. If they don't get that, who knows how they'll react. A massacre in that cage will at least quell their blood lust a bit."
"And why would you volunteer to be on the wrong side of that massacre?" the manager questioned accusingly.
"Oh, I have no intention of dying. I just think it's too good an opportunity to pass up."
None of the staff looked to be buying that Shaad had no ulterior motives, but with a severe lack of better options, they slowly relented, the guards lowering their guns at the manager's behest, and asked only one more thing. "What do we get out of this?"
"Saving the show isn't enough for you? Wow, you're greedy," Shaad stated in mock surprise, satisfied that things were going his way. "You can't honestly think lying to a man like your boss would be a good idea. . . But, I'll place a twenty million beli bet on myself to get the ball rolling, anyway. How's that for reason?"
Neither the manager nor the announcer liked the smug grin Shaad was showing, but there was no denying he'd just given them twenty million reasons to go along with his plan. With that jump start and the right odds, they could definitely recoup a hefty amount if not make back the estimated losses entirely.
"And how will you cover that bet?" the two asked almost simultaneously.
"Cash," Shaad stated definitively. "If you don't trust that, I have a twenty million beli bounty on my head (though it'll probably go up after my last little stunt); you can use that to cover my bet."
With a shared silent nod, the announcer went back to make the necessary notifications to the fuming audience members, kept from full scale rioting only by the additional women and pleasure drugs brought in. He pumped them up for a revised main event fight, used the little information he had on the newcomer to reinvigorate the crowd as much as he could, and announced the new betting odds and that bets could be exchanged or refunded.
While the announcer handled his part, the ringside manager dealt with some particulars with Shaad. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Shaad objected, visibly flustered, as the man held out one of those slave collars in a single meaty, tattooed hand. The snake wrapping around his arm down to his palm was almost symbolic as Shaad stared him directly in the eyes with obstinate distaste.
"Collateral," the manager replied, pleased with himself for inadvertently drawing a definitive reaction from the falsely unflappable outlaw. "Just in case you decide you don't want to pay up. . . Though dead men don't object." He punctuated the snide remark with a contemptuous grin.
Shaad controlled his emotions and took a half step back, reaching behind him as he did so, and drew his two swords. The manager swallowed thickly as he gleamed the sharp blades and clipped the collar back on his belt in favor of a more offensive weapon. But, before the man drew the weapon, Shaad extended the swords hilt first and spoke calmly. "These swords will be my collateral. They're a pair of legendary blades worth more than my life - figuratively and literally. If anything happens to them, I'll make any lingering fears of your boss a distant memory." He let the threat hang as he glared the burly man in his beady, amber eyes threateningly.
"And finally, without further ado, I present to you, our challenger, 'The Little Hellion'." The drawn out introduction and the ensuing cheers interrupted Shaad's intimidation, and he handed over his swords before making his way to the cage with contemplated precision, removing his sheath and shirt as he walked. Wrapping the sheath in his shirt, his prized pendant tightly clung around one end of a scabbard, Shaad threw the collection to an anticipatory Raine, and walked into the confines of the electrified cage in only his black slacks and shoes and a white tank top.
'It's a shame he chose to leave that strong chest covered," Raine mentally complained as she caught Shaad's things. 'But, at least I finally get to see him in action.'
Shaad shared a quick smile with the onlooking Raine and cracked his knuckles and neck as he awaited his opponent. 'Alright then, time to see what you got, Mr. Champion.'
"And, finally, the fighter you've all been waiting for," the announcer excitedly bellowed in a deep bass as the lights went completely dark, leaving only a spotlight at the fighters' tunnel entrance and the center of the cage. "The 39-0 Undisputed Master of the Cage, the masked warrior, the champion of this arena, 'The Accursed Fang' Vega!" The full spiel had barely left his mouth before the crowd burst into a frenzy. There was obviously no one who thought Shaad was a legitimate threat to the figurative crown, but the enticing odds brought a sizable number of bets in his favor nonetheless.
Shaad couldn't help but smirk at the immense cheers that made the boisterous round he received seem paltry in comparison as he got his first good look at the famed and touted Vega. 'The Accursed Fang' was a lean, athletic build of sleek, specialized muscle. More slender and slightly taller than Shaad, he strode to the ring with a single purpose though his expression could not be read past the porcelain looking white mask. Shaad stifled a grin at the irony he perceived in the lone teardrop design on the left of the mask as well as the lavender and golden patterned trousers paired with the white leggings and loafers and the gold armlets on this supposedly ruthless killer; he looked more like a fallen prince hiding his shame. But, Shaad recognized the truth in the toned muscles as well as the visual threat of the purple tribal style dragon tattooed on the young warrior's right shoulder and pectoral and wouldn't dare look down on Vega.
'He's quite something.' Raine thought as she gazed upon the champion's entrance, his long, braided ponytail of brown hair and red sash unaffected by his brisk pace due to the graceful gait with which he moved.
Once both fighters were inside the cage, they instinctively sized each other up, ignorant of the announcer leaving the structure's confines and the closing door trapping them within. The fight had begun, but much to the chagrin of the amorous spectators, the two fighters merely circled each other in preparation.
"I've heard a few of the rumors, so I get the Accursed part," Shaad spoke calmly, as if to an old friend. "But, the Fang puzzles me."
As expected, Vega made no verbal response, but when he abruptly stopped circling and brushed the dangling sash aside, Shaad's eyes were drawn to the large claw hanging from his hip. Shaad's eyes went wide as the masked fighter slipped the three bladed claw onto his right hand, and the confident captain sounded a bit nervous when he next spoke. "Oh, now I get it. . . That's a statement, not an invitation," he added after a pause.
With his claw ready, Vega was the aggressor, making Shaad sorely regret not keeping at least one sword. Shaad had to be smart about dodging, moving back at an angle to stay off the electrified cage wall and out of that claw's effective range. After just escaping three cross body slashes, Shaad feinted a third jump back and used his back foot to pivot around the outstretched appendage, countering with a solid left cross that landed squarely across the cheek of Vega's mask. The impact did little to deter the agile cage fighter as he spun with the force of the blow to counter with a spinning back kick of his own. But, Shaad reacted quickly and brought up his forearms to block the swift strike, moving back in time with the blow to once again create some space.
"So; Vega? Is that your real name?" Shaad casually questioned even as Vega lunged at him with a flurry of strike combinations. Shaad wove around the cage staying just out of Vega's range, all the while keeping his tongue as busy as his feet. "Okay, too personal; I get that." he commented, ducking under a swipe from the sharp claw weapon. "Then, what are you hoping to achieve? I'm sure it's not being their little show pony for life." As Vega picked up the pace after that comment, Shaad similarly had to put a bit extra into dodging. "Seems I hit a nerve. Sensitive issue?"
In all the talking, Shaad didn't notice Vega snaking the ground between them, inching his lead foot closer until he clipped Shaad's front leg, putting the pirate off balance for a split second. Vega then sent Shaad slamming into the floor with a forearm hammer shot to the midsection and sent him hurtling across the ring with a kick to the side just as his body bounced off the floor.
Shaad caught himself in a three point stance, using his free arm to soothe the lower ribs on his right side, and took a sec to catch his breath even with his mouth still running, though on a significantly different track. "Sorry, sorry," he strained, "maybe I went too far. . . Definitely; I definitely went too far!" Shaad hurriedly corrected himself as he barely jumped into the air in time to avoid getting three slash marks on his face.
Shaad came down with a powerful straight fist, but Vega easily avoided it, letting the punch send cracks through the floor. Shaad wasted no time, following up with a leg sweep, that Vega stepped back to avoid, and an errant rising backhand that was nowhere close to his target. "That combination works so much better with a sword," Shaad griped in annoyance and disappointment, his shoulders slumping for a split second when he realized how far off he was. But, the trained pirate martial artist slid his front foot back and took up another fighting stance to ready for the next exchange. "Since you obviously don't feel like talking about yourself, I'll tell you a bit about me instead."
As if trying to prevent that, Vega charged forward, leading with his claw. In response, Shaad shifted to a boxing stance, knocking the claw away with an elbow before striking him with a strong uppercut from up close. The direct blow sent Vega stumbling back, but Shaad wasn't finished with him yet.
"My dad's a well-connected asshole," Shaad shouted as he lunged forward, landing another uppercut, this time to the lower ribs. "And, my mom's the angel who married him for the sake of me," he added with a hard cross to the solid mask Vega wore. "Damn, that mask is hard."
Shaad stayed on Vega as his instincts kicked in and he attempted to create space. Hitting him with quick, stinging shots, the talkative pirate kept Vega reeling (and his ears buzzing). "I'm trying to get back home," Shaad spoke while attacking. "I wanted to get back quietly, no commotion you know, but then my father gets a bounty put on me, his own son." Shaad angrily stressed the last word with a gut-wrenching punch, twisting his fist into Vega's side to increase the damage. "Now, things are about to get," Shaad began, switching his approach from stinging strikes to heavy handed haymakers attached to specific subsequent words, "Loud and Fast; in short, FUN!"
The last punch, an overhand left straight, sent Vega flying back into the cage wall, shooting thousands of volts through the lean bodied champion as the crowd looked on in shocked surprise at the seeming upset. "You're a slippery fellow," Shaad commented as Vega willed himself off the cage and briefly staggered to steady his footing. "Those punches would have finished most people, but I just can't seem to land a clean shot on you." Vega then launched forward, weaving from side to side before clashing in a fierce exchange with Shaad, the confident youth holding up well against the dizzying pace Vega set.
Both fighters landed their share of significant blows, but Shaad seemed to take the upper hand when he locked both of Vega's arms with his own, flashing a smile to relay his win. Something about the hold's firmness seemed off to the perceptive Shaad, though, as Vega slipped both arms back as if covered by some slick, translucent oil before bashing Shaad in the face with a headbutt, using his free hand to hammerfist his opponent's opposite elbow and free his claw, and send the brash youngster tumbling head over heels with a forceful push kick.
Shaad hopped to his feet, fingering his bleeding nose for a moment before flashing another smirk in Vega's direction. "You cover your body in oil to make yourself slippery; smart. But, what do you say we get serious? I wanna see the expression on your face when I break that mask," Shaad balled his hand into a fist, snidely adding, "hope it doesn't kill you."
The two immediately charged each other, almost running past each other as Vega's claw ripped into Shaad's chest, trailing three scars over his shoulder. The three semi-hooked blades threatened to catch under Shaad's collarbone, but Shaad turned with it and grabbed Vega's ponytail in a firm grip, pulling the agile fighter into a stiff clothesline that almost took his head off, flipping him and ejecting the air from his lungs as he slammed face first into the floor. Vega reacted quickly, practically jumping to his feet, but when he turned around, he was met by a thunderous straight.
Shaad put his full power behind that punch and sent Vega hurtling into the far wall of the cage. Shaad almost thought he heard an empty gargle as tens of thousands of volts coursed through the masked warrior's body, sending the young man collapsing to the cage floor, broken pieces of the sturdy mask he wore crumbling off from the unrestrained collision.
A/N: I'll be posting a new chapter for this story next week as well since I got mixed up last week. Then, just in time for Halloween, Dawn of a New Age will begin a special Horror arc and I'll be back to my regular posting schedule. Thanks for reading and be sure to review.