"You lose this fight or he dies," the gruff voice breathed into his ear before the hands threw him back into the lockers. Gordon wanted to fight back, but it seemed the message had been delivered and the two figures retreated, leaving him in the room - alone. A second later and the other door burst open, Parker running in with Kayo and Penelope on his heels.

"What 'appened?" The chauffeur asked as he made it to the aquanaut's side.

"I don't know - they took Virgil," Amber burned with the need to go after his brother, but the warning was still blaring in his ear. "They said I have to lose or they'll kill him."

He found the agent, her demeanor as steady as ever as she took charge, "Parker, you and Kayo go after them. Gordon -" Her fingers landed in his arm, pulling his attention from the door he'd witnessed the men pulling Virgil through. Her gaze hardened when their eyes met, trying to instill calm into the worry that was flooding him. "You're going to fight while they go get him. Keep it going as long as you can. I'll signal you when Virgil is safe."

Gordon's initial reaction was to nod, but his head was screaming why? Why fight that long? All he need to do was lose -

It hit him like a sucker punch to his gut. The mission. He was supposed to win.

Winning meant his brother would die. Losing meant he would become a target. Of the two options, Gordon was very certain which one he was willing to do, so with a quick nod, he began the walk that would take him to the ring. A glance to his right and he watched his sister and Parker head off on their own mission.

"It's going to be alright," Penelope's voice was quiet in his ear and Gordon realized she'd caught up to him, her arm looping into his. He hoped she was right. There were too many variables at the moment for it to be a sure thing, but he was hopeful. They had trackers and a team that could deal with anything. This was a bump - a very terrifying bump - that would only delay their plans.

They made it to the ring and there was Micah, waiting with a smug grin on his face. More than anything, Gordon wanted to rip it off, but the voice continued to warn him what would happen if he won. He couldn't let Virgil down. All he had to do was stay up long enough for his friends to do their job and then win.

Easy - so why were his hands shaking?

The fingers on his arm squeezed just enough to sever the anxiety building in his chest and Gordon glanced to the London agent. A second later and her lips were pressed to his.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough to almost negate the fear running through his gut. When she pulled away, the appreciative smile from Fab2 wasn't there and he wasn't sure why he thought it would be. Instead, he found a steadiness in her jaw and eyes that pinned him with the need for understanding.

It was a power move to help him find control.

"You can do this," Penelope kept her voice low, but there was no mistaking the unwavering belief behind it. "I'll give you a signal when we have your brother."

"F -" Gordon cut off the automatic response, his head still reeling from the kiss. "Alright."

"Good," a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and her hand found his back, guiding him towards the ring and his final fight.

You can do this… At least he hoped he could.

OoOoOoO

The little nuisance was here, looking rough around the edges even after the kiss from his manager. Micah wanted to laugh at this boy who had decided to make himself known to the fighting world - his area of expertise.

It seemed his own manager had done his job in ensuring Sam Tucker would play nice. He would let him get a few hits in, make it look good, and then he would break the man. He might even enjoy it.

The woman was whispering to him again, controlling her puppet, but Micah knew it was pointless. They had the medic and it had been easy enough to see there was a closer bond there than Tucker shared with his paycheck.

They both took the stairs up to the ring, Micah earning a glare from the younger fighter before they took their spots.

Oh yes, he would certainly enjoy this.

But then, a funny - disconcerting - thing happened.

Samuel Tucker smiled.

"Think you're hot stuff, eh, Shrimp?" He growled low as the announcer played to the crowd.

"Yeah, I kinda do," the grin spread. "And I've got orders to kick your ass. Wouldn't want to disappoint."

Irritation flared and it took everything in him not to start pummeling the bratty look right of his face.

"Gentlemen," the referee called them to the center of the mat, both men touching their gloves.

The bell rang.

Micah jabbed first - a warning blow that sent his opponent back. Avoidance - he would be playing that strategy as well, knowing how dangerous the kid could be close range. He'd studied enough of the knockout blows to understand Tucker's game.

Another jab, miss, and Tucker was charging in. Perfect.

Micah hadn't gotten to where he was by simply rigging fights. No, he'd learned and honed his skills. He loved fighting as much as the next person in the competition. The only difference was, he enjoyed winning far too much. With this match under his belt, it would secure him a place in the professional leagues. Big money. Even bigger fights. He wasn't going to lose that to this novice who didn't even deserve to be on the same mat as him.

So with experienced timing, Micah jumped, his legs encircling the shocked man's torso before he twisted and brought them to the mat. He was already throwing a punch into Tucker's face as he sat atop his squirming form. The second strike ricocheted off the younger man's forearm as he countered. He sent another forward, but was forced to catch himself as Tucker's knees slammed into his back and sent him rolling over his opponent's head. In seconds, they were back up, Micah stumbling away from a quick punch to his abdomen.

Rage engulfed the pain and he spun, catching the arm aimed to strike his chest and jerking it up to draw a pained grunt from his opponent. They separated after a foot pushed into his ribs, both men falling back into defensive positions.

Micah allowed himself a little satisfaction at the trail of blood falling from his opponent's lips and the way he took in a shuddering breath. He had him. All Tucker needed was a little more incentive to throw the fight.

It was a risky move, but worth it as Micah dove forward, slamming into the smaller man and driving him into the fence. He was very much aware how quickly his foe could end the match from this position, but as he brought his face up to Tucker's ear, a smile played on his face.

"Just so you know - every hit to me - is a blow to your friend," he delighted in the way his quarry froze for a moment and it was enough of an opportunity for Micah to send his fist into Tucker's gut. For fun, he stepped back, propelled by arms that were suddenly slower. He watched the expression on the smaller man's face morph from shock to confusion to uncertainty.

He had him.

OoOoOoO

Virgil tried to hold back the cry as an unseen boot slammed into his gut. It was the third in a series that had hit him and this one came with a sharp spike of pain. He curled into himself as he gasped through the agony, his captors undeterred as they pulled him up into a seat he assumed wasn't part of the package that came with their van.

Rough hands pulled his arms behind the seat, tying him in place and leaving him open for the fist that slammed into his face. Pain sparked across his cheek, lights dancing in the dark of the cloth over his head.

Panic flared with Virgil's lack of sight and he struggled harder against his restraints. He could hear the people around him shifting. The vehicle hadn't been that large and he found himself grateful for the limitations. The next blow to his gut still hurt, however, and as his ribs screamed out, so did he. It caught in his throat as he choked on the air forced from his lungs.

"He's stopped," one of the voices whispered harshly from behind him. There was a long pause that followed and Virgil could just hear the faint sound of a video feed. He couldn't make out the words, however, not that it was important to him.

"Just keep going," another voice, harsher this time. "Gotta let these idiots know we don't tolerate showoff's like them."

A low chuckle and a hand was taking hold of his chin and jerking his head up to face his assailant. Apparently, he didn't care that Virgil couldn't see his face.

"Right, how are those glasses workin' for you now, pretty boy?" A fist collided with his cheek, driving the flimsy plastic of the fake lenses info his nose.

Virgil had lost track of how long they'd been driving, but he was certain it wouldn't be long before the van came to an abrupt stop. His family would be hot on his tail, ready to tear this group apart.

As if to answer his thoughts, one of the men at the front of the car called out, "Who the hell is that?"

The vehicle didn't stop, however, Virgil lurching forward in his seat as the driver accelerated. The movements became erratic the faster they went and there was the new concern that he might die in a crash.

Another answered thought sounded through his battered head as something rammed the side of the van, causing it to skid with the occupants crashing around him.

"Oi! What are you doing!?" One of the men closest to him shouted. "Lose 'em!"

"I can't! This guy's nuts - hang on!" The driver's words sounded through the vehicle and Virgil instinctively braced for impact.

Only, it was a subtle knock more than a crash, followed immediately by the sound of something landing in the roof.

No - someone - and without having to see, Virgil knew exactly who it was even before the rear doors exploded outward and she flung herself inside and into the first of his abductors. His ears buzzed with the abuse his head had taken, but also with how impossibly fast Kayo took care of the group. The only one left was the driver and as she slammed something into him - probably her foot - he felt her arms wrap around him protectively before the van came to an abrupt stop.

Acrid smoke filled his senses, fingers tickling his wrists as they worked at his bindings, and then he was up and stumbling out into the early evening air. The cloth had been removed the moment the van had settled, but it wasn't until she was in his face that he could see.

"Virgil? Are you alright?" Kayo's hands were on either side of his face, helping him stay upright as the world tried to tilt.

"Uh - 'm okay," he finally found his voice as she led him over to their SUV and made him take a seat inside. "Where 're the assholes who took me?"

A laugh that surprised him and Virgil lifted his partially swollen gaze to meet hers, "Parker's taking care of them. The authorities are on the way to deal with the formalities."

Another, more pressing thought had him sucking in a breath, "Gord'n!"

Kayo's hands found his shoulders before he could move, "Take it easy. Lady Penelope's still with him and Parker let her know the moment you were clear. They took you to make sure Gordon threw the match. Now that you're safe, he can take on Micah in a fair fight."

Virgil wanted to believe her, but "fair" was certainly not in the fighter's vocabulary. However, he couldn't think of a way that they could be of any help other than to wait for the paramedics to show up, put him back together, and let him go take care of his little brother.

Gordon was on his own for the next few minutes.

OoOoOoO

Time almost seemed irrelevant, except that he'd been fighting for nearly ten minutes straight. His body ached and his vision doubled after the last blow he'd taken to the head. He still couldn't go down, though.

Gordon was waiting for her signal - a sign that Virgil was safe. How long did it take to hunt down a group of low lifes?

Sweat had started dropping down Micah's face, signifying that the fight was taking its toll on more than one of them. He hadn't hit the man since the warming that it would lead to damage for his brother, but that didn't mean he couldn't wear Micah out a different way. The problem lay in making it not look like he was running from his opponent.

A growl and Micah lunged, catching Gordon in the chest with his shoulder, leaving his fists free to send a berrage into the aquanaut's gut. It stole his breath as he backpedaled into the fence, the assault ending as they grappled for control.

"Why won't you go down?" The larger man hissed, his shoulder having left his chest and edging closer to Gordon's throat.

"Like I said - I've got orders," and he hoped his friends would give him a reason to complete those.

The shoulder brushed his Adam's apple, panic shrieking through his brain just as he heard her voice in his ear, loud and so unlike the sophisticated lady she was.

"Kick his ass!" If that wasn't the sign, he was going to have serious words with her ladyship.

Micah was still trying his best to cut off his airflow when Gordon jammed a fist just under the man's exposed armpit, eliciting a barked cry of pain. It was enough to give him the advantage, sending a high kick into his ribs. Micah recovered quickly, managing to snare the leg before Gordon could pull it away.

The mistake was Micah's as Gordon used the man's gut as a springboard, kicking off of him into a backflip that wrenched his other leg free and sent his opponent further back.

He landed on his feet, the crowd roaring to life as the tides turned in his favor. Micah's face was worth the hesitation as he caught the wide-eyed disbelief. Anger seemed to wear well on the experienced fighter and Gordon realized this was quickly escalating beyond a championship fight.

The larger man charged again, but as Gordon went to dodge - his second wind in full swing - Micah shifted directions. Fake blue eyes widened with his miscalculation and the fist that hit him in the jaw. He stumbled back, trying to lift his hands to block anything sent at him as his vision swam. Gordon felt the blow to his arms as they countered a kick to his side.

His vision cleared for a second and all he could think was how disappointed Kayo was going to be. How upset Penelope would be.

And then, the heel of the other foot connected with the side of his head and Gordon flew across the mat, landing on his back. A second later, Micah's weight was on his chest and another fist slammed into his cheek, followed by another. Someone was screaming next to him, hands grasping at the larger man as another punch cut off any further awareness and the lights of the arena blinked out.