it was me against the world
i was sure that i'd win

- Social Distortion
"I Was Wrong"

Young Lions

(n/3)

Lean in with Your Jaw

Their fights had always had earth-shattering potential. But their last match would turn out to be soft, anticlimatic, with no extravagant eruptions or broken furniture.

Marth refused to break. Ever. But Roy always knew when it got to that point. Knew that tipping point. And then the Master of Disaster rose up again, ran into the minefield like it was a victory lap.

"Hit me," he said. Just to push that nuclear button.

Marth only shook his head, no. Backing away. Done with it. Done with Roy. Done with all of it.

But Roy was persistent. "Make that hand into a fist and hit me. You know you want to."

He backed Marth into the wall and crowded him in until it finally happened.

Roy took a fist to the face.

It would have hurt more if Marth had actually known how to throw a punch. Sword fighting wasn't the same as empty hand fighting. But the hit had stung Roy enough that he shut up for a bit.

Marth pushed past him, made it out the door and halfway down the hall before Roy had the sense to go in pursuit.

Caught up with him in the parking lot. Tried to bring him back inside, but he pulled away. And kept walking. Until Roy got in front of him.

Trying to reason with him. Late night. Bad neighborhood. You left your keys and your phone inside. I'll take you to the train station in the morning. Okay?

The prostitutes who worked on the corner stared at both of them.

Roy had a feeling he was about to get beaten down with a sock full of quarters.

One of the girls finally came over.

Her ash blond hair was all done up. She wore a turquoise dress and matching heels. Looked like she was making more money than Roy. And she didn't need to pay taxes on it either.

"You know," she said to Roy, "I don't think he wants to go anywhere with you, and he doesn't have to if he doesn't want to."

"Don't you have a dick to go suck or something?"

"How is that any different than what you do for free?"

Fair point, but he wasn't going to let that slide.

"I most likely don't have a yeast infection."

That one got him in a bit of trouble. She swung something at him, looked like some old school car antenna, a slender metal wand. He dodged out of reach. It didn't look like it could do much damage anyway. But what he was not expecting was some bright yellow ball with eyes on it to come careening into the side of his head. It knocked him into the brick wall next to him.

He fell facedown onto the stained asphalt.

The ball hovered in midair. It seemed to sprout tiny arms and legs and do a little victory dance. Roy was struggling to understand who, what, when, why, how...?

What happened next was a blur. Several people were helping him walk. At some point he hit the ground and they dragged him the rest of the way.

He woke up on the mattress on the floor of his studio. He wasn't alone.

Seated on cushions around the coffee table were the ladies of the night who usually worked by the motel. Marth was hosting. He had made them all tea.

A faint noise came from the TV, set to a late night talk show.

Roy sat up. The ice pack on his head slid off.

The evil bitch in the blue dress waved at him. "Nice of you to join us."

"Get out of my place."

"We were invited."

"You - " He turned to Marth.

"They're your neighbors," Marth said. "I figured we should all get to know one another."

Roy had all sorts of opinions on that sentiment, but his head started hurting and he lay back down.

When he woke up next, the lights were off. The TV was tuned to an infomercial, and the women were wrapped together on the spare futon under an old blanket.

Marth was next to him. He slept on his side with a hand over Roy's heart. It was a habit of his.

Roy eased himself out of bed. He pulled the sheet up over Marth's shoulder. No matter the weather, Marth was always cold.

Marth's hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his.

Roy stopped. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's just me."

One eye opened, the other hidden behind dark blue hair. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just stepping outside."

"Why?"

"For fresh air. It'll just be a minute."

"The liquor store is closed, Roy."

"Yeah," he whispered. "I know."

The pharmacy wasn't. But he wasn't going to say that.

"So where are you going?"

"Just for a walk."

Marth didn't let go of his hand.

Roy fought to keep his voice low. "Come on. Seriously. Why you gotta be like this?"

Marth let go. He rolled over and faced the wall.

Roy started to say something, then stopped. He got up and turned toward the door. They'd settle things later, he thought.

He pulled on shoes and a jacket. He stepped out into the night.

There was a small unopened bottle with a black label on it under Marth's pillow, a limited edition sample that had come in a gift basket from a sponsor. Roy would find it later, when he came back to an empty apartment to find the sheets made, the floor swept, the trash taken out, but no one home.

He didn't know then that something had ended. It would be one of their longest goodbyes.

They had a rendezvous at another late night fuel station, this one conjoined with a small grocery store, on the outskirts of the city. One last stop for provisions. The arena was ahead of them, its lights beaming over an urban landscape of hotels, strip clubs and casinos.

They were an odd convoy: a dump truck, a motorcycle, and a gold chrome foreign import with suicide doors.

They were an odd group: prize fighters, mercenaries, and scavengers of things that people threw away.

Roy didn't know which group he belonged to. Possibly all of the above.

Under fluorescent store lights, Min Min browsed the aisles for doughnuts and ramen. Waluigi filled up a tumbler as wide as a soup bowl with burnt black coffee. Twintelle stretched her legs and went in to pick out a cup of tea at the counter. Terry disappeared into the restroom.

Samus kept track of all them through the windows as she charged her car at the port. Falcon found a quiet spot to have a cigarette.

Roy was itching for a smoke too. But they weren't cool yet, him and the Captain. And he didn't want to light up next to Samus.

He remembered the way Marth used to look at him whenever he reached for a pack of reds. That look of cold quiet disapproval.

One of the many things they just never talked about.

"Snake's been asking about you," Samus said.

Roy shrugged. "He knows how to find me."

"Do you want to be found?"

"It's fine if it happens."

"What do you know about his line of work?"

"I know about as much as everybody else."

"Then you get that it's not a game, don't you?"

Inside the store, Min Min was robbing the shelves of instant noodles.

Roy nodded. "Yeah. I know."

"Some things in life, you can't just bluff your way through. You fall off a game stage, or even out here on the streets, it's one thing. But when you go down out there, out in that world, it's a whole nother level. Are you ready for that?"

Terry tossed a bag of marshmallows at Min Min. She caught it, just barely, almost dropping her armful of packaged snacks.

Roy took a breath. "Only one way to find out."

Samus shook her head. "I'm not good with that answer."

"What kind of answer would you be good with?"

"You always had a lot of potential, Roy. But there were times when I came very close to telling you that this wasn't for you."

"What do you mean?"

"You looked like you were trying to put in the work to get good. But every time you got close, you just let go. I wanted to cut you loose. But he convinced me that you were worth the time and the headache."

"Who?"

She tilted her head in Falcon's direction.

"Oh. Right. Okay."

"You had it for a while. Then you lost it."

"That's just the natural cycle. Right? That's how the fight goes. No one retires as champion. There's always a new challenger waiting to take over."

"No one fell from the top as hard and as fast as you did."

"Yeah. Well. I guess it was a bad time for me."

Chasing a high rather than a win...

"I get that," she said.

"Things are different now."

"Are they?"

"I'm not the same person I used to be."

"You sure about that?"

Waluigi made his way across the parking lot, grinning over his barrel jug of coffee. Terry caught a box of candy as it slipped out of Min Min's arms. She came to a stop so that he could set it down on the pile of food she was struggling to carry. She almost fumbled it a second time when Twintelle slipped past them, eyes on her phone.

Min Min called out after her, "Hey!"

Twintelle spun around. Hair swinging out and falling about her. Apprehension on her face. "Yeah?"

"I like your shoes!"

"Oh..." She looked down at her feet. "Uh, thanks."

"You're welcome!" Min Min bounced at her, brandishing the bag of marshmallows "Want some? It's good."

"Oh, no, thanks. I don't -"

"How about these?" Min Min thrust out a box of licorice.

"I - uh - sure, I guess." Twintelle allowed the treats to be shoved into her hands.

With a solemn nod, Min Min turned and trotted off after Waluigi and his truck.

That's one way to soften an opponent, Roy thought.

To Samus, he said, "I'm not the type of person who changes easy. I don't like change. But..."

Terry gave Falcon a casual nudge. "Smoking's not good for you."

Falcon just grunted. "You can add it to my rap sheet, babycakes."

"It's different this time," Roy said to Samus. "I feel it in my blood this time. It's not just a whisper. It's not just a shadow, or an echo. It's hot. It's real. It's buzzing under my skin. The world doesn't look the same anymore. I've actually been getting up in the morning. Sounds simple, but it ain't. I think, maybe, for the first time, ever, I'm living. I'm not just slow dying. I need this job. I need this work. It's my reason to keep the fire burning. Because if I'm living, I need to live for something."

He looked at her. "You know what I mean."

Her answer was immediate. "I do."

They rolled in hot to the arena, where the crowds had gathered at the front entrance, behind security barricades. Roy felt his insides cringe. He used to want the spotlight. Now the thought of it made him want to jump out of his skin and flee the scene.

Falcon, ahead of them, signaled a turn onto a side street, blocked off by traffic cones, that led to the rear entrance. Spectators and fans had gathered there too, along with news crews.

As it turned out, pulling in with a garbage truck was the perfect cover.

Roy felt relief. But he realized it might have been a disappointing entrance for the newcomers.

Samus flashed a badge that got them waved through into a protected parking lot. She pulled into a reserved space.

"Are you ready?"

Roy shook his head. "Honestly? No. This may have been a mistake."

"It's okay to have doubts. But you're here. Might as well finish it. I didn't see you hesitate back there when Falcon was working you over."

"I'm just trying keep a promise. But if you ask me, I'd rather be elsewhere."

"Well," - the doors swung open - "you're not sleeping in my car. They've got your room ready and everything."

"I hope they didn't stick me with the wrong kind of people."

"You're kidding, right? You've got your own suite. You're one of us, Roy. Whether you like it or not."

He laughed dryly. "I don't know if that's true."

"Do you think I tell lies, Roy?"

"No. I know you don't."

"Then trust me on this one."

"If you say so."

Samus shook her head in dismay. "Sometimes I question your sense of reality."

"So do I."

The elevator that brought them up from the parking lot had a clear view of the downtown streets and its neon nightlife. Min Min bounded up to the window and pressed her hands against the glass. Terry, too, crept forward and gave the scene below an appreciative look.

Roy shouldered his gym bag, one hand in his pocket, and leaned back against the wall. The arena itself might as well have been an enemy. They had a shared history. No amount of bravado could cover up his frayed nerves. He wanted...

Something to take the edge off.

He knocked his head back against the wall a few times. No, no, no. Not that. Not again.

The doors opened to a mob of people and flashing cameras.

"What the fuck?"

Velvet rope barriers and security guards kept the crowds at bay, but they were too close for comfort for Roy.

Waluigi smirked and strutted for the cameras. Min Min smiled and waved. Terry posed for a few shots. Twintelle blew kisses at her fans.

Meanwhile, Samus had donned shades and a baseball cap. Falcon pulled the visor down on his helmet. Roy tugged the hoodie over his head. The three veterans hurried down the corridor, heads down, away from the shouts and cheers of the crowd.

"Should we wait for them?" Roy asked.

Falcon shook his head.

"Twintelle's going to help them get situated," Samus said. "She's been shadowing me, so she knows how things work around here. And anyway, they're new. Let them get the full experience. We shouldn't ruin it for them."

"Copy that."

They slipped through a side door, down another hallway, and into a service elevator. Security guards nodded at them as they passed.

Samus led the way into the main hotel, where the halls were quieter. She keyed them into a room.

Roy had grown used to hotel stays during his time in the league. But he was surprised at the accommodations.

"This is nice."

"This is your room." Samus popped open closet doors and peeked behind curtains. "Security just finished their walkthrough."

"Who arranged for this?"

"The committee, who else?"

"I'm not...you know, a headliner anymore. I don't even have an agent."

"I told you, Roy, we take care of our own."

"I...well, thank you. I appreciate it."

"They're throwing a party downstairs later. Thought you might be interested."

"I'm not that into parties."

"You used to be."

"Yeah, well, now I know better."

Falcon dropped onto the loveseat and propped his boots up on the coffee table. He clicked on the TV and popped the cork on the bottle of complimentary champagne.

"Sure, man," Roy told him with a sarcastic grin. "Just help yourself to whatever." Roy fished out a bottle of water from the offerings that had been left to chill in a bucket of ice on the table. There were other options, courtesy of their sponsors, but the water was the safest.

Falcon, meanwhile, filled himself a glass of champagne. "Go fuck yourself, short stuff."

"Same to you, old man."

"When I was younger than you, I was still better than you."

"Back when plumbers rode dinosaurs and games were played on cartridges?"

"Back when they didn't just hand out membership to the all-stars to anyone with a pretty face, an online fanbase, or paid corporate backers."

"Uh, right, I hear what you're saying. How many participants are there this time?"

"Too many."

Samus snatched the champagne bottle out of Falcon's hand and poured herself a glass. "Captain's got a bit of nostalgia for the good ol' days."

"The more the merrier?" Roy tried.

"Fuck that," Falcon retorted. "These newcomers have no respect for the game."

"Well, yeah, I mean, I get that. Those two we rode in with do seem genuine. They've got a lot of heart. But they did also started a brawl in the middle of a convenience store, so maybe they're not the brightest. They just need a bit of guidance. A good trainer would set them straight. It's nothing they can't grow out of."

Falcon let out a short bitter laugh. "Good fucking luck."

"I used to be like that. You remember, don't you, Captain?"

"You're still like that, Roy. I remember when you set your own trailer on fire."

"The AC broke and they never fixed it. That trailer deserved a fire."

"Your face deserves a fire."

"Stalest comeback in the history of stale comebacks."

"You two," Samus cut in, "never change. If you both ever quit, I'm going to have to do the same."

"Don't tell me you're as done as this ex-playa," Roy said, nodding at Falcon.

"Well..." Samus opened the blinds overlooking the city. The crowds had grown in size near the arena.

"That day comes for everyone," she continued. "We've been guarding this fire for long enough. Our commitment to this franchise means that we are tasked with training the next generation. When they're worthy, we pass the torch. That way, the fire keeps burning. It'd only die out if we held on to it."

"So are they?" Roy asked. "Are they worthy?"

"That," she said, "remains to be seen. And this tournament is all about finding out." Samus raised her glass. "For glory, gentlemen."

Falcon toasted back. "We're fucked."

Roy lifted his bottle of water.

"For glory."

He skipped the opening ceremony all together. He had wanted to watch the exhibition matches from his hotel room. But somehow, Samus convinced him to go down with her and Falcon. They had access to a VIP booth overlooking the main stage.

Roy propped himself against the railing and stood waiting. After a while, he realized that his presence had drawn attention.

A few select members of the press, and a few other special guests, had also gathered in the viewing booth. They all kept glancing his way. He saw their phones come out, and he guessed some pictures were being discreetly taken.

He tried to ignore them.

Eventually he got a message from Twintelle.

- Are you in sky box one?

- yep

- Did Samus tell you that the press has access to that one?

- she said they'd be fewer here so figured I'd chill here for a bit

- Your name and face have already hit the major news outlets, just to let you know

- yeah ok, I'm good with it

- Have you seen the comments?

- no

- I think you should take a look

- ok

He put the phone away. Seemed like public relations was Twintelle's thing. A good asset for show business.

But Roy was beyond caring. He knew what people used to say about him before. He could probably guess at the type of things they'd say about him now. If anyone called him a has-been they would not have been wrong. An addict. Also true. Add in anger management issues and a problem with authority. And that was a complete Roy profile.

But he hadn't come around to sell them on a redemption arc. He just had some business to take care of.

He half listened to the chatter of the sportscasters. He just wanted the announcer to start the match.

"Why hello, handsome."

He had no time to react before she slid up and latched onto his arm.

"Rosa!"

"Lina," she finished for him with a wink. That voice was deceptively perky. She wore her crown and her best dress.

"Isn't there a street corner you should be standing on?"

"No, honey, I've moved on to bigger things."

"I'm not sure this is much of a career advancement."

"Oh? I think the prospects are wonderful."

"Working for Smash is like switching pimps. They'll use you just the same."

He tried to pull away, but she only tightened her grip, laying her head on his shoulder as she did so.

"You know the press is here, right?" he said.

"Of course."

"You're making us look like...something."

"Is that a problem?"

"You're still kind of new to the scene," he told her. "You really don't want to be associated with me."

"I never hated you, Roy. We come from the same neighborhood. As far as they're concerned, we're both trash. And that's fine. We'll do it for the broken. We'll do it for the losers, those who never had much. We'll do it for all of them."

"You're drunk, aren't you, Rosa?"

"Yes." She turned fully into him then and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest. "But you feel nice."

"Sure, okay." He hugged her back. Their animosity had faded somewhat. He held nothing against her. The tabloids could spin it however they liked. He wouldn't be around to read about it.

"I don't know why no one likes you," she mumbled into his chest. "You're a good guy."

"If you say so."

"You let us stay at your place when we were having a bad night. You didn't even know us. You cared about us."

"That's not how I remember it."

"That's exactly how it happened. I know. I was there."

"Marth was the one who - "

"I'm sorry we stole him away from you. It was a kidnapping. Really. He didn't want to go. We convinced him to do it."

"Okay."

"He couldn't take much more. He told us. You were too much for him to handle. So we took him and ran. We've been running ever since."

"Okay."

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw cameras and cell phones come up. He grimaced. There was no way to get her off of him.

She began to sway her body, whether to the music playing throughout the stadium or to a melody she heard in her own head. Caught in her grasp, he had no choice but to move with her. It became a strange dance.

Call it fate or retribution. Whatever Roy deserved, this was probably it. He couldn't even be annoyed with her. He'd been there himself. Too many times.

The match was about to start, judging by the cheers in the stadium.

Roy looked at his friend.

"Do you have your room key?"

"Hm? What for?"

"I'm going to walk you up to your room."

"What for?" she repeated. "I just got here. You just got here. And now you want to leave."

"You're going to want to lie down and try to get some sleep. You've got important things to do tomorrow."

"Like what?"

"Like non-mortal combat. Like performing in front of your supporters. Like the kind of stuff that earns you the big bucks, okay? You came here to succeed, right? So we're going to get you to bed."

She leaned up and kissed him. It shocked him enough that he froze. She nuzzled against his neck.

"I like you, Roy."

"You like everyone when you're drunk."

"So?"

"You even made out with Zelda a couple times."

"She likes girls."

"And I guess Sheik doesn't?"

"Aren't they the same person?"

"I don't know. They're your friend."

"I'll go to bed if you go with me."

"I'll go with you. I just won't get in it with you."

"Why?"

"I made a vow with someone."

"He doesn't honor it."

Something about that tone made Roy's blood run cold.

"If he doesn't, then he doesn't," Roy said. "I'll still honor my half."

"Tell me about you."

"You know about me, Rosa."

"You and him."

"There's nothing - "

"Why him? All you do is destroy each other."

"I can't explain it to you. We made a vow. It's just one fire. For both of us. We'll burn together. That was the promise."

She stared back at him. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

And just then, a flash of light exploded above the fighting stage. It drew the attention of everyone in the stadium.

Both Roy and Rosa turned to look at the same time. They watched as two fighters took the drop to the platform.

One landed on one side of the stage, dressed in black, blond hair spiked up, raising an almost comically large sword.

Mercenary, Roy thought. He knew it somehow.

The other, wore white. He carried a slender blade. His characteristic blue locks fell over one eye.

"White..." Rosa murmured.

Roy noticed that too.

White.

Not blue.

White.

It hit him then.

A code.

The color of...

Roy's phone beeped loudly. He checked it. A message from Snake.

- Report?

On stage, the two fighters clashed. The audience roared.

Roy clenched his jaw. Face numb. He typed it out slowly.

- altea sides with bern

Snake took a couple minutes to react.

- Confirmed?

- no

- Index of suspicion?

- high

- Roger

Roy cursed under his breath. He blacked out the phone and turned toward the stage.

Rosa stood with her arms crossed. Listing a little to the side. She settled against Roy's shoulder, never taking her eyes off the match. She took his arm again. He made no move to stop her.

"Why..." she whispered, "do you look upset?"

"I'm not upset."

White was the color of surrender.

But in their tradition, it was also a color of protest.

Marth had no intention of winning the fight.

but the world fought back
punished me for my sins