Pam intended to end the fight quickly. When the bell sounded she charged directly toward Christopher hoping to hurl him against the cage and render him unconscious. Even as she lowered her shoulder while throwing her body at his chest, the plan seemed simple and effective. Pam almost finished congratulating herself on the restraint she was showing this imbecile before she realized the wrestler remained unfazed. Spindly fingers wrapped around her arms, pulling Pam into his solar plexus. The Pebble absorbed the full force of Pam's charge but apparently didn't feel it. She heard bones splinter under his jacket and even forced her shoulder to plunge several inches into chest tissue. Christopher pushed her back to the center of the ring. He paused to wipe away a trickle of blood running down his mouth, staring at the red smear on his palm.
"A good start," he said with a hint of amusement. He placed his palms flat on his pectoral muscles and pushed against them, forcing the cavity Pam made to pop out like blowing air into a crushed water bottle. A few specks of blood stained the white floor. "Now what did you say your name was?"
"Pam." She was still processing how Christopher was able to withstand the pain he should be feeling.
"Pam nice to meet you. I know it's rude to skip pleasantries but may I ask a question?" He slowly paced the edges of the ring with the same confident and improbable gait as before. Pam was not a fan of his insolence. Whatever you are, you not understand what I'm capable of. She lurched forward and sidestepped a rapid chop, responding by grabbing her broken kendo stick with both hands and shoving the pointed end through Christopher's left bicep. Before he could respond she jumped back to the center of the ring with teeth bared.
"By all means." Pam studied the wrestler, judging whether her show of dominance gave him pause. He'd stopped pacing and his face no longer wore a mask of politeness but of determination. He stared back at her with furrowed brows, grasping the stick with his right hand.
"You're clearly an accomplished warrior," he said as he pulled the stick from his arm. Blood and an unidentified fluid gushed from the wound, further staining the mat. "Throughout your many battles, have you ever felt pain?" He maintained eye contact. At the same time he opened his mouth so wide that Pam could clearly see his contorted uvula. She thought she heard clicking as his jaw continued to descend. A slimy pink tube rose from his throat, winding itself along the discarded weapon. Damp spots of oil and saliva appeared at the Pebble's feet.
Pam knew she could not let herself be intimidated. "Who are you to ask me such questions? I am Pam, scourge of Wasteland. My hands are stained by blood of raiders and my heart hardened by nuclear furnace." She scoffed, turning her back on Christopher and lifting her arms toward the crowd. "I feel no pain. I AM pain!" The crowd surged with excitement, alternating between chants of "Pam" and "pain."
A loud gulp prompted her to face her adversary once more. The kendo stick had disappeared from sight and Christopher's mouth had returned to an acceptable size. Yet Pam detected something in his eyes that stopped her taunts. The stoic, confident façade which previously faced her was gone, replaced by the look that a radstag wore after being chased by a mongrel pack for a week. "You are pain? I'm sorry to learn that." His voice was almost too quiet to hear. "But I still have a job to finish." His heels tapped softly in her direction.
The suggestion of pity in his tone did not settle well. "I not need your sympathy." She balled her hands into fists.
"Well what about your empathy?"
When Christopher entered arm's reach Pam showered him with blows which his frail arms deflected as best they could. For a minute the ring was a flurry of movement, tangled limbs flailing and thrashing against the other. Though Christopher's avian bones had mostly shattered by this point he countered Pam with a series of sturdy chops. Each blow he landed was repaid in double, her bloodlust fueled by the crowd's jeers and her own fury. Several dumb mistakes in the Pebble's defense coupled by an imprecise punch getting caught in his boa allowed Pam to bounce him off the ropes and crush his femur with a roundhouse kick. He landed face down on ring, fresh injuries leaking fluid. Even though his leg lay sprawled at an unusual angle, he used his other relatively healthy limbs to lean himself against the turnbuckle. The tired expression remained but he appeared otherwise functional. After taking a few moments to catch his breath Christopher pulled himself up to stand on top of the turnbuckle, much to the crowd's pleasure. The sound of bone grinding on bone was louder than the vomiting of several drunken audience members.
"How could you feel empathy for me?" spat Pam. She asked her question after some heavy breathing; the limits of this world seemed to be exertion-based. "We've known each other for literally five minutes."
"True, but I think we're more similar than you realize." Christopher gestured at the audience, his broken wrist flopping with the motion. "Listen, you're from another world. You know what it's like outside the ring." He grimaced, staring at the sea of green "Princess" signs. "But the pain of the ring is all I know." He turned his head to see G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. conversing with his father on the outside of the cage. "The man who cloned me is the only friend I've got. I've not been here very long, but for as long as I've been conscious he's cared for me. He taught me how to survive in this arena, how to please the crowd." The Pebble looked away when G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. noticed his gaze and gave him a sheepish wave. "Tonight the WrestleMania prize is the Shadowwalker title belt, but every night for me the goal is the same. I cannot disappoint my father. Not one time."
At the mention of the belt Pam's gaze flitted to the ceiling. Suspended from a rope outside the cage hung an ebony strap with a ruby-plated buckle. She reached out with invisible hands and sensed it contained far more energy than any other entity in the stadium. The Pebble noticed her interest.
"That's the Shadowwalker belt. I suspect if you win this match it will allow you to escape this world." He launched himself from the turnbuckle, elbow aimed at Pam's skull. "But I can't let you win!"
Despite the bizarre circumstances, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. found himself quite enjoying his conversation with Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson. As it turned out, not only was he an accomplished wrestler, but also was in the middle of several philanthropic projects which he supported with his acting career. He also spoke at length about his cloning experiment and how proud he was of his son. An honest gentleman. A genuine wrestle-boy, he mused.
G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.'s warm feelings were interrupted by a flash of green light at the opposite end of the ring. The crowd hissed upon sighting the new fighters, but G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. recognized them as the interlopers who seemed to be hunting Pam. A cold bead of sweat ran down his fuzzy forehead. His ability to jump between worlds was altered upon entering WrestleMania and he knew he just had to find the trigger to give his powers back. But he couldn't make the jump if he was torn in half by these trackers.
The Rock also seemed uneasy about the new competitors. He tensed his muscles and spoke sternly. "I'll gather the remaining wrestlers and try to hold them off. Warn your friend. If you must leave our plane, then so be it." He drew a flip phone from his belt and punched some numbers. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. began to climb the cage to get closer to the whirlwind of activity inside. Before he was out of earshot, The Rock bellowed "G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.!" The cybercat froze and squinted down on the beloved American icon. "Please take care of my son."
Pam could tell the cadence of their fight had changed. Aside from the irregular attack patterns which resulted from the new ways his bones articulated, she could sense desperation in Christopher's wild swings. Punches with too much force, an overextended leg sweep, all frantic attempts to cause her real damage. She knew she was still far stronger than him, but his unwillingness to yield earned her begrudging respect. Even with torn muscles he'd managed to pick up some stairs attached to the ring and throw an aerial assault off balance. She redirected herself midair and landed on the cage's side. He lunged after her, she jumped toward him and both their fists smacked against the other's abdomen. Pam landed on her feet, skidding to a halt against elastic ropes. She clutched her stomach, impressed that the Pebble's blows remained powerful. Yet her own strike caused her foe, now hanging on a high corner of the cage, to splutter out strands of thick green mucous. Die, fool. You had fun, now be good clone and give up.
"Pam! They're here!" G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.'s voice broke her concentration. She tried to find what G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. was talking about but Christopher had already seized the opportunity. He fell upon her with the grace of a beautiful man spider and ferocity of ten Super Mutants, stringy fingers cracking whip-like beside her face. She raised her arms and jumped back, feverishly deflecting his strikes. She minded her feet and kept a few steps ahead of the Pebble's clumsy pace, but she did not enjoy being on the defensive. He lifted his arms above his head and nearly brought them down on Pam's shoulders, but she summoned her strength and caught his wrists as they descended. The fluid-soaked floor of the ring cracked, but Pam held firm. They glared at each other they struggled, frozen in their opponent's grip.
"Why you fight so hard?" Pam growled. "Give up!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that." Christopher pushed his wrists down harder. "I have a reason to fight." He glanced over his shoulder to see his father standing on the announcer's table, shouting commands to dozens of wrestlers clustered into a phalanx of ladders and folding chairs. The extradimensional fighters approached at a slow pace, but their calm demeanor made him worry about his dad. "That is why I don't give up."
"Okay, cut out sanctimonious bullshit." Nothing was less interesting than a moralizing 5-day-old. "You don't think I have reason to fight?" Pam's exasperation gave her strength. She summoned her energy and launched both of them skyward. As they ascended, she stretched out her palm toward the assembled fighters, most of whom were being beaten to a pulp by the hunters. "Christopher, everyone has reason to fight. From John Cena to Hulk Hogan, every being you meet has own motivations. Whether those reasons are good or bad is up for debating." As they smashed through the top of the cage, Pam pointed at the audience. "Even humans watching us fight. They're here because they want to be. Even if think the 'why' of why they're here is dumb, doesn't mean you have moral high ground. We all just trying to do what we think is best."
"Huh."
They reached the peak of their arc and hovered at the top of the arena. Time seemed to slow. A blast of noise erupted from all around them, half from the viewers' cheers and half from the literal energy blasts which crumpled defending wrestlers. A hundred constellations from camera flashes twinkled from the stands. Below them, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. screeched that they had to leave NOW.
"And what's your 'why,' Pam?"
She had released his wrists which now sagged at his side. While they sank down Pam tried to interpret Chris' face. Where before had been a warrior now there was a child. She sighed. "A story for another time." They plummeted back to the ground, staggering as they landed next to the hole at the cage's top. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. stumbled toward them, the black title belt in paw. Wind howled around the trio.
G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. stretched the belt and started buckling the three of them together, but Chris stopped him. "I have to get my dad! He's still down there!" Green lights flashed up from the edge of the cage. Fate was not on the side of WWE.
The feline perceived the fear in Chris' voice. "Listen. Chris." He put his paws on the Pebble's fractured shoulders. "Your father cares about you very much. He asked me to keep you safe. It's not safe back there." He spoke softly. "We can keep you safe." Pam nearly protested, but recognized it was not to her advantage to argue at this time.
Chris' voice trembled. "I don't know what to do." Through the cage's mesh wire he saw his father stand alone among a pile of crumpled bodies. The foreign shapes closed in on him. The Rock turned his back on the enemy and brought his hand up in a salute.
G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hugged Chris. "Trust us."
Still shaking, the clone nodded. He looked down at his father's face before it was engulfed in darkness and brought his own spindly hand to his forehead. The three vanished in a column of white light. The last thing Chris saw was a smile.
Roachie studied the battlefield, now littered with corpses of dead wrestlers and unlucky fans. Trash Hulk and Metal Husband finished pushing debris out of the way so they could observe the markings left behind when their prey jumped worlds. They converged on a perfect circle burnt into the center of the ring. The robot scanned the symbols which ran along the circle's perimeter. Trash Hulk licked the mat's burnt edges.
"Tastes like pizza."
The Mr. Handy beeped in confirmation, then slid a communicator to Roachie. He snatched it and brought it to his antennae.
"Yes sir. It's just as you said. Pursuit proceeding as planned."