"Rookie, you're up in five!" the gruff voice of a bald-headed man yelled from the other side of the locker room door. Thick billows of hot steam were rising from the showers. With each breath of humid air, Knox was struggling to fill his lungs to full capacity. One whole week of this lifestyle and he was already almost regretting not letting Charles O'Dell pull the trigger to the back of his head.
He could hear the crowd growing restless outside as a team of stand-by's carried an unconscious Machop out of the ring. The victor, a Primeape currently bouncing back and forth against the ropes, was greeted with a rambunctious applause. The lightweight match was over. Now the people wanted to see the main event.
A pair of rough, shovel-like hands fell down on Knox's shoulders. "Remember what we talked about," a man named Dirk spoke darkly to the hitmonchan. "You're gonna win me six hundred bucks tonight." It wasn't just a goal or a dare, it was a threat. Every night, this man Dirk put his money on Knox and expected nothing other than a clean-cut victory. And if Knox couldn't serve him up what he wanted, it was all over. Kicked to the curb, my friend. Caput.
Dirk grabbed a dry towel from the bench and tossed it onto Knox's shoulders. He smelled strongly of beer and sweat, both of which were visible on the front of his tattered wife-beater. He was a large, muscular, hairy man with no sense of common courtesy and a horrible taste in aftershave; so, in short, he was the only kind of guy who would hire Knox. Dirk wouldn't let him go in one piece until Knox paid him back all that he lost on his last Pokémon fighter. The man was so far in debt he could practically swim in it, and any Pokémon willing to fight for him was either a fool or a desperate man. Knox liked to think he was simply desperate. But once this was over and Dirk set him free, Knox was going to find his girl and never lose sight of her again. His plans were a little unorthodox to be true, but he wasn't the kind of guy who would let anyone tell him differently. He was going to find Remy, bring her back to the city, and they would live like the protagonists of some fairy tale story. It might be a difficult road, with plenty of struggles, dirty apartments, bedbugs, and empty wallets, but the fight would all be worth it in the end.
Dirk gave him a hard pat on the back before taking his leave. "Two minutes." He said with a low grunt.
In two minutes, the clock would strike eight. By now, the sun was already fading and the city lights were taking over. The vibrant colors of the bustling metropolis were beautiful. It was something Knox had always wanted to see and to experience, but something was missing from his plan.
Knox regretted so many things: the times he hurt Remy without even meaning to, the times he underestimated his own strength, but most of all he regretted being too cowardly to go back for her.
Next time, it would be different.
Only one minute left now until it was Knox's turn to fight. Through a tiny square window, he could see the other trainers lining up and comparing their Pokémon for the upcoming battles. Knox's competitor, a Machamp with massive arms and legs like redwoods, was beating his chest like an ape.
Outside the ring, thousands of spectators were cheering and screaming with a mixture of delight and anger. Some of them were there to be entertained, others to win a bet, and some just to witness the violence. There were as much a part of this establishment as the fighters themselves.
Dirk led Knox into the narrow walkway that separated them from the chaos. All the while, he was egging him on; be faster, be stronger, make the first hit, don't let your guard down. Knox knew the system like clockwork by now. It was always the same.
Time to put on a show, Knox thought to himself as he jumped over the ropes and took his place in the corner. His foe was staring him down on the other side while the opposing trainer rubbed his shoulders and spoke to him privately in his ear. Dirk stepped away from Knox altogether, knowing he was better off not being touched. When Knox was ready to punch someone's lights out, he preferred to do it without any distractions.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a booming voice rang through the speakers and drowned out the screaming crowd. "You've see our lightweight champion turn an amateur to putty, and now it's time to witness two heavyweights return for their third one-on-one battle! Last time, Kurt's machamp took the title. Will Dirk and his hitmonchan be able to reclaim their status as heavyweight champion of Neon Town?"
The crowd was going insane with anticipation as Knox and his rival shook hand in glove, staring at one another intensely. It was all just an act, pretending to hate one another in order to get the crowd riled up. That's all this business was—a violent stage show.
The bell chimed. It had begun. Knox clenched his fists tightly inside of his gloves, building up his strength for the first punch. Machamp was taking his time, staring the hitmonchan down and watching his movements. It was taking far too long. Always impatient, Knox rushed into the center of the ring and made one quick swipe towards machamp's head. He grazed the side of his face, but failed to make more than a tiny scrape almost too small to notice. Staggering clumsily to his feet again, he tried to lunge towards his foe, and again the machamp avoided it with a casual step. Almost in an act of mockery, machamp stuck out one leg and sent Knox falling onto the mat face-first without so much as an ounce of effort.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dirk was screaming at Knox from the other side of the ropes, his face red and his veins popping out of his thick neck. "Get up, you dumbass!"
The fight just started, and already Knox was losing. He was so angry with himself—so embarrassed—that he didn't even want to look the crowd in the eyes for fear that they had already lost hope in him. There was no margin for error this time. Knox had to fix it before it was too late.
With his face aching on one side, Knox stumbled back on his feet and leaned himself against the ropes. His rival was flexing his arms to the crowd as though he had already won the fight. His confidence would be his downfall. As Knox watched him boast his strength, all he saw was an arrogant bastard just like Mr. Charles O'Dell standing in the middle of the ring with his chest stuck out and his head so full of bullshit it was about to explode. In the pit of his gut, he felt an uncontrollable rage filling him. So clearly he could see the face of that man, the one who drove him out.
It's his fault, he was thinking. Everything was his fault.
Knox let out a furious yell and charged at machoke with all his speed. He couldn't control his own arms. He threw his rival to the mat and punched him across the face over and over again, watching blood spewing from his nose and his open mouth. The sight of it only made Knox crave more. The hitmonchan held machoke down with his body while he continued to beat him lifeless, all the while imagining that he was tearing old Charles O'Dell to bits. He wanted to rip him apart with his teeth, to throw him against a wall, to crack his head open; anything, until he was nothing but a pile of bloody bones on the floor. That was what Knox truly wanted.
"Enough!" Dirk was yelling from the side. "Hitmonchan, enough! Stop it now!"
Knox wasn't listening. He pounded his fists against machoke's face at lightning speed, until a set of rough hands grabbed him by the arms and forced him off his rival's body. Breathing heavily and covered in blood and sweat, Knox was pushed to the ground with a hard blow to the face from his trainer. Dirk stepped on his chest to hold him down, all the while glaring at him with an anger he had never seen from him.
"What the fuck was that?" Dirk screamed in his face. All at once, the ring was full of people: the angry machoke trainer being held back by his cohorts, a team of medics checking the fallen Pokémon's vitals, and countless reporters flashing cameras in every direction they could get. The crowd was silent for the first time as they watched with anticipation. Whether or not Dirk ever got his money back, the show alone would become a hot topic for weeks to come.
Machoke was breathing.. "He's alright!" the announcer yelled over the speakers, sending the crowd into an applause. Kurt helped his beaten, bloody Pokémon to his feet and carried him off with a bitter stare towards Dirk and Knox, possibly vowing some sort of revenge. It was official then; Knox had won the match this time around.
Dirk helped Knox back to his feet with a rough tug, faking a smile to the crowd. To them, he was the victorious trainer of Neon Town's new champion, but they didn't hear him murmur out of the side of his mouth.
"If I see something like that again," he said to Knox. "I'm breaking both your arms."
Knox only grinned with his half-swollen face.
Let's hope you never get the chance…