A/N: And after a hiatus I emerge. Once more. With Kew-Kew. Sorry BaW.

Every square inch of Kew-Kew was covered in autumn fabric. Fox-fur red, sunset-orange and lemon-yellow cloths made a mockery of plumage. They hung off of his limbs and his tail like the chain of a comet. A magnificent crest added a foot to the wearet's already impressive height and trailed all the way down his back. Easily the most imposing part of the costume, and undoubtedly the part Kew-Kew was most proud of, were the long strips of firm cloth that transformed his arms into the wings he had always wanted.

"Well Rolfie?" the wearet grinned down at the mouse, turning on the spot to better show off the flamboyance he wore.

"You look... great, Kew-Kew." The mouse admitted, pulling his paw away from his face yet finding himself unable to meet the wearet's eyes. "Like a... real... champion." He turned away, his tail dragging along the floor behind him. "Good luck in your... match..."

"Rolfie is not happy," the wearet noted, his ears drooping in misery. All of a sudden the costume did not feel as impressive.

Madeline snorted. "Well never mind, I don't get paid until you're on and you're on in ten- so let's get a move on!"

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"It's not Kew-Kew's fault," Rolf noted, taking his time on the lonely road to the stands. "It's not Kew-Kew's fault everybeast loves him. He's not trying to replace you, Rolf... Stupid big wearet... eagle... That costume probably cost a fortune! And for what? So that Ralph can beat him up and lose 'with style' because suddenly I'm not good enough." He came to a halt at the bottom of a staircase, and found himself face to face with a very flattering depiction of Ralph.

A poster advertising the match that depicted the rat with bulging musculature the real Ralph couldn't even dream of.

Rolf glared at it, wondered briefly how much Carrabas had spent on printing it, and then allowed seasons of pent up anger to pour out. "Nevermind that Ralph is going to lose his first real match in about three seconds flat! And then his grandfather's going to blame me for it, because obviously it's going to be my fault when somebeast tears off his stupid grandson's nosering!" Rolf drew back his fist and struck the printed face hard. He winced, whimpered and clutched at an aching paw. "Stupid nosering!" he sniffled.

"Hey Rolf!" The mouse stiffened suddenly, his eyes bulging in fear as Ralph came bounding towards him. Before Rolf could stammer out an excuse, or an apology, or whatever it was that he would have stammered out the fat rat was squeezing him tightly and beaming wide. "I just wanted te thank yew for gettin' me this far! Couldn't have done it without ye." He released the mouse and punched him roughly on the shoulder. "Haha! Favourite pipsqueak! Yer the best friend ever!"

"Thanks... I guess..." Rolf rubbed at the fresh bruise and turning away from Ralph, began to ascend the staircase. "Good luck in your... match."

Ralph chuckled behind him, and Rolf was sure from his tone that he shot the mouse a 'subtle' wink. "Yew know I won't be needin' any of that."

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"There yew are!" Rodrick waved the mouse down to the front row, and with a heavy sigh Rolf allowed himself to trudge over. "Saved yew a seat," the old Rumbler winked, patting an empty seat he was taking up half of. Wordlessly, Rolf sat down besides him. "Yew look a bit down," Rodrick noted, pulling a squashed pastry out from behind him. "Need a snack?"

"I'll pass," Rolf frowned.

"Oh c'mon! Yew don't know what yer missin' out on. This is one of 'em once-in-a-lifetime flavours yew don't get every-"

"I could use one!" And a pitch black wing snatched the pastry right out of the Rumbler's paw and stuffed it into the open mouth of the worst bard in Plomplemoof's history. "I'm shtarvin'."

"Ye'll be a lot more things when I'm done with yew," the Rumbler growled, cracking his knuckles. "I was savin' that for a month already!"

Rolf breathed a sigh of relief at his lucky escape.

"Tuff' luck," Kali snapped, stuffing the rest of the pastry into her mouth. She swallowed and sat down, apparently none the worse for wear. Her face brightened up immediately. "Soooo... exciting match, right?"

"I suppose," muttered Rolf.

"You know I used to really hate arenas- it's a looooong story, haven't composed a song out of it yet- but this city's not bad at all."

"You have no idea..."

"Tell me about it!" boomed the Rumbler. The old rat stretched a paw forwards, the pastry apparently forgotten. "The name's Rodrick, this is me grandson Derrick-" Derrick gave an unenthusiastic wave- "and Rolf here's a friend of the family."

"The Amazing Kali, pleased to meet you all!" the bard replied, snatching the Rumbler's paw in her wings and shaking enthusiastically. "Travelling bard, singer, entertainer and sometimes I bring down tyrannical regimes."

Rolf frowned with tangible skepticism and decided henceforth to take everything the bat said with a bathtub of salt.

"We've got quite the crowd today!" Carrabas squealed in excitement, as he skipped towards the front row, all dignity forgotten.

"And they laughed at me when I said I'd fit the whole town in here!" Oswald guffawed, coins jingling in his pockets as he bounced in the stoat's wake.

Seraphine was the Derrick amongst them, and strode with the cold purpose of crushing dreams left, right and center. She gave Kali a raised eyebrow, ignored Rolf and came to a halt in front of Rodrick. "The Rumbler of the Roost. I must say, I'm a humongous fan." Her tone, the look on her face and the twitching of her nose begged to differ, but Rolf supposed Rodrick had once been influential enough to avoid her ire.

"Yew an' many more," winked the rat.

Derrick smirked up at the ferret. "He'd give ye an autograph, but he don't know how te spell his own name."

"A tragedy." Seraphine turned away and stalked off. Rodrick's tail promptly wiped the smirk off his grandson's face.

"Ladies and gentlebeasts," boomed the impossibly loud voice of the referee, a small, golden-furred hamster with a face made of gravel. Very unhappy gravel. "I am happy to welcome you all to the Black Eye tonight for one of the most anticipated matches of the season."

"He doesn't look very happy," Kali pointed out, her wings pressed firmly against her ears to stop them going deaf.

The hamster went on. "Between a pair of newcomers to Plomplemoof… which says far more about the current season than it should. In this corner we have the current champion of the Crowpit, the mighty eagle Kew-Kew."

There was thunderous applause, so tumultuous that Rolf was forced to take a leaf out of Kali's (undoubtedly very poetic, if hard-to-read) book and press his ears shut, as Kew-Kew flapped into the ring with a cry of 'Ka-Kaw!'

"And there's the hopeful he'll be fighting today. The second coming of the Rumbler himself. Ralph."

There was a smattering of polite applause as Ralph made his way forwards. He caught his grandfather's eye and waved nervously.

"That's my boy!" Rodrick boomed, his meaty fists accounting for perhaps half of the applause.

"They are to fight for a potentially unlimited number of rounds until one is either knocked out or withdraws. We, on behalf of the Black Eye, remind you to refrain from killing one another as such behaviour can lead to unfortunate legal complications. The fighters will now shake appendages, in this case paws."

The fighters did so. Kew-Kew grinned down at Ralph who offered a weak smile in reply.

"And the round will begin. FIGHT!"

"Keeeraw!" Ralph, his paw still clamped in Kew-Kew's own, was promptly hurled into the ropes.

Rolf winced as most of the audience cheered and called for a swift victory. The fat rat disappointed them and stood up, his arms raised high above his head in a show of strength that clashed furiously with his widened eyeballs and shaking legs.

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Alphonso, once hailed 'The Eagle', now ridiculed as 'The Crow', was one of the few creatures in Plomplemoof not seated within the Black Eye. Wrapped from beak to talon in a billowing black cloak that did nothing to hide his identity (for Alphonso had once struck a deal to make himself the only bird in the city allowed to don billowing black cloaks) and did everything to keep his frazzled feathers and bloodshot eyes out of public view, the crow strode through the maze of tunnels that made up Plomplemoof's underground streets. Bright white bandages burned where gnarled claws and rotten teeth had torn his flesh asunder, a constant reminder of his newfound status as the unseated champion. And as a reminder of his purpose.

"To kill the wearet," he snarled into the empty corridors, his pace quickening.

Of course, as a public figure Alphonso couldn't afford to kill the wearet himself. No, that was out of the question (and of course it had nothing to do with his fear of the Crowpit's new champion). But as a successful fighter he could afford to have the wearet killed. Cut-throats always had a price and Alphonso was more than rich enough to meet most of them. So his talons guided him to the only place in the world one could hire a killer in.

The local tavern.

Alphonso knocked. A bulging eyeball glared down at him from the peep-hole.

"State yer business!" a screechy voice demanded.

The crow did not miss a beat. "Come to let loose elephantine rage."

The eye narrowed. "Does 'e actually try hard?"

"Always, your eminence."

"Iggly piggly doodle-doo?"

"Vermin smell and so do you."

"...Ye know the code."

"I do."

The door swung open with a creak. Half a dozen faces, scarred and sour-looking, turned to face the crow at the doorway. Some frowned at him, others tried to measure him up, most went back to their drinks.

"Welcome te the Seedy Bar," the bulging eye croaked, appearing behind the bar. They were a short, squat shrew, with one eye eight times larger than the other. Alphonso approached. "What can we do for yew?"

In a low voice, the crow replied. "I need somebeast gotten rid of."

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"Big surprising! Ralph-ratty is still getting up!" Kew-Kew exclaimed, his face contorted into an expression of exaggerated shock as the rat struggled to his feet.

"Hehehe, somebeast should remind Kew-Kew that he's not being payed to do the commentary!" Carrabas exclaimed, feigning a chuckle and shooting Rolf an unsubtle glare.

The mouse swallowed audibly, and not daring to make eye contact with a far-from-amused Rumbler, crept over to the ropes.

"Ahem, K-Kew-Kew?"

The wearet spun to face him, and the mouse hastily waved a paw over his throat in the universal gesture of 'cut it out'.

Kew-Kew nodded in understanding, turned back to Ralph and with a bloodcurdling 'Kraw!' slammed the side of his paw into Ralph's throat.

Rolf's ears flattened as the rat hit the ground in a cloud of dust.

"Keeraw! Ralphie can do better!" Kew-Kew scampered towards the ropes, his tail wagging incessantly behind him and went on in a smaller voice. "I is doing good?"

"No!" Rolf whispered furiously. "Not. At. All! You're going to get me killed Kew-Kew!"

"Oh," the wearet's face fell.

Taking a deep breath, Rolf calmed himself. "It's fine. It's fine. We can still do this. Stick to the plan. Just remember-" he caught Kew-Kew's eye and followed it to the ferret standing besides him.

Seraphine smiled innocently. "Don't mind me. I just wanted a better view."

"Right… of course. Erm Kew just… remember to er-" Rolf scratched cluelessly at the back of his head. "Aim a little… lower?" He hoped dearly that Kew-Kew would catch the meaning.

"FIGHT!"

His hopes were dashed in seconds, as Kew-Kew ducked under Ralph's sloppy offensive and brought his thick tail first into the rat's shaking legs and then into his stomach. He shot Rolf a grin. Seraphine returned it with interest. The mouse did not.

"FIGHT!"

Ralph opted for a grapple this time and threw himself at the wearet's unprotected back. Kew-Kew screeched in surprise and fell backwards on top of the rat. Winded on impact, Ralph's grip loosened enough for Kew-Kew to climb free. The wearet spun round and helped the rat to his feetpaws.

"The eagle displays honourable conduct."

"Now sock him in the face!" yelled Kali, easily the most captivated member of the audience..

Rolf felt the sweat begin to trickle down his face as Kew-Kew did just that.

"S-sorry Rolfie," the wearet gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, as once more he scampered towards the ropes. "Is too noisy! Kew-Kew can't think."

"It's fine, it's fine, it's fine," the mouse whimpered in a desperate attempt to tamp down on his rising panic. "Just stop hitting so hard!" he checked for Seraphine, and when he realized the ferret was nowhere nearby, added in a hiss, "And remember you have to lose!"

Kew-Kew took a deep breath, gave Rolf what he thought was a reassuring smile, and turned back to face his battered opponent.

"FIGHT!"

The wearet swung wide, his fist deliberately missing Ralph by a considerable margin. It was not a particularly good miss but it was serviceable. Or rather, it would have been had Kew-Kew not flavoured it with a loud screech of alarm and a cry of 'Keeraw! Kew-Kew missed!"

Rolf brought his paw to his face.

Ralph stepped to the side and swung hard at the wearet's exposed back, and although it felt more like a rough tap than a punch, Kew-Kew fell forwards with a gurgle.

"Pain! Pain!" he whined into the sand in apparent agony. He stretched a paw out towards Rolf and winked. "Saaaave me."

Laughter was beginning to rival the cheering in volume.

Ralph slammed his tail down on the wearet's back. Inexplicably Kew-Kew began clawing at his throat.

Rolf could only wonder whether Carrabas or Rodrick would kill him first.

"I is dying!" the wearet gasped, beginning to suck in air with a gusto.

"The wearet mocks his opponent's puny blows," the referee commented dryly. The Black Eye exploded with fresh gales of laughter.

"No!" Kew-Kew snapped, sitting up abruptly. "I is dying!" He resumed his choking, and although it was a horrendous performance by all accounts, it still managed to convince Kali.

"Don't just stand there!" she exclaimed, barging past the ropes and Rolf and Ralph and the referee and wrapping her wings around the wearet's middle. "Can't you see he's choking!?"

Five minutes of deafening laughter, amateur theatrics and frantic first aide later and Kew-Kew was hoisting Kali into the air. "I is saved! Singing-bad-thing saved Kew-Kew from Ralph-ratty!"

The guffaws and cackles and chuckles were so all-consuming that even the referee's loud voice was barely audible above the din. "Take five!"

Unceremoniously dumping his supposed saviour, Kew-Kew sprinted over to Rolf, his face twisted in concern. "What is I doing wrong?"

"Everything," the mouse whined, tugging at his ears. "But maybe we can still salvage this, okay? Just don't swing to miss, don't swing hard and please Kew-Kew, please don't say anything!"

"Losing is not easy," the wearet frowned apologetically.

"Just treat Ralph like he's a dibbun."

"Strange advice to give your fighter," Seraphine noted, once more appearing behind the mouse, her clipboard poised and at the ready.

Rolf's face fell. "Oh you er- heard that. Well there's an explanation-"

"No needs to explain. Please, continue giving your fighter sound advice. The way you normally do."

"O-of course. Well er- Kew-Kew, you have to-"

"Yes, yes, throw match. Kew-Kew knows!"

"No!" Rolf felt his heartbeat spike up, but forced himself to chuckle. "W-why would y-why-"

"But Rolfie, you said-"

"Yes?" Seraphine interrupted, her paw a blur against the parchment she carried. "What did he say?"

The wearet eyed Seraphine side-long, noting her bulging eyeballs and unnatural cleanliness. "To… treat Ralph-ratty like… eggchick." Kew-Kew nodded. "Kraw! I go sit on Ralphie now."

I'm doomed, Rolf watched, wide-eyed in horror as the wearet proceeded to do just that.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Seraphine smiled down at the mouse through pearly white teeth, crossing out the last of her notes as she made her way over to where Carrabas was seated.

"Bit of advice mouse," Derrick slunk up to the ropes, chuckling sinisterly and looking very much like he was having the time of his life. "I'd write yer last will an' testament down while ye've still got paws." Rolf turned to find Rodrick the Rumbler red in the face and fuming so hard it seemed steam was billowing from his nostrils. Derrick patted him on the back, consolingly. "Still the best fight I've ever seen. Rest in peace."

But the worst was yet to come, and when at last it did it came in the form of a jewelry-clad wolverine armed with plushies barreling towards the ring with all the grace and subtlety of an avalanche.

"Stuffed Kew-Kew's! Get yer stuffed Kew-Kew's right here an' right now! Limited edition! Special price!" She roared with such ferocity that nobeast in the audience dared refuse her. "Oh an' eagle!" she barked in the direction of the ring. "Don't forget te throw the rat!"

"Yeah! Throw that rat!" Kali agreed, brandishing her freshly-purchased stuffed-wearet-eagle.

"Don't yew dare!" Rodrick snarled, but his voice was drowned out by the crowd. "Out the ring! Out the ring! Out the ring! Throw the rat! Throw the rat! Throw the rat!"

Rolf sighed in resignation as Kew-Kew hoisted Ralph above his head, and sent his prone form hurtling towards the black-eyed mouse.

A massive cheer erupted from the stands as Kew-Kew scrambled for the ropes. "No Ralphie, no! I is sorry! I is trying to throw match but-"

The voice of the hamster drowned out the rest of his apology. "And the winner is, Kew-Kew."

Footnote: The latter half of this chapter- the 'fight' scene- was definetly some of the most fun I had writing this story. At least for a long while :P Stay tuned for the next chapter! Where we get more underworld dealings, the natural follow-up to the mess that was Ralph's first real fight, more of Kew-Kew being Kew-Kew and also a few surprises (like, why exactly Kew-Kew failed so hard to hold back a punch here :P)