Chapter Seven

I haven't written from Drake's point of view since chapter 2, so here we go...

Drake would be an idiot if he didn't at least feel a little bit scared for Vasquez. He himself was freaked out by the growling sounds the big guy was giving him as he patted him down.

But when Vasquez stood up to be searched by the elephant, who did not bother to bring a second, he just waved his hand at her distastefully, smirked, and sauntered over to the cage.

The cockiness pissed Drake off so much. Jenette was an amazing fighter: lithe and strong she could floor him in a matter of minutes. Drake hardly needed to train her, he just pointed her to the machines and instructed her to put on more muscle, and practice with the punching bag. She was a master of hand to hand. And the important part was that she could move. And no one could catch her.

Drake had nothing but faith in her abilities, but that didn't stop him from freaking out when Hāthī jumped into the suspended cage, muscles straining as he pushed himself up, rocking the cage back in forth with his heavy weight. Drake could see veins and layers of thick, heavy muscle, contributed by the steroids Morozko sold in the prison in return for loyalty and fidelity. The moment those muscular arms touched Jenette, was the moment he knew she would die.

Hāthī was famed for tearing his opponents to shreds. Even though Drake rarely attended a rave, he knew, through word of mouth, about the beast-man that tore out a boy's spine with his bare hands.

Beside him Jenette gulped, Drake turned to her, and grabbed her, hands on her shoulders. Looking into her eyes, desperately trying to erase his own fear, he projected confidence to her.

"Do not let him touch you, do not even let him get near you. Use your speed and agility to run around him, he will find it very difficult to turn in the tight space of the cage, use that to your advantage." He sighed, rubbing a hand on his face. "I swear Vasquez, you give me nothing but stress." She grinned and jabbed him in the shoulder.

"Hrm what do you think? Strong enough, chico?" He laughed and turned her around to the cage, slapping her on the ass light-heartedly. She rolled her eyes, and walked forward to the awaiting elephant man, a new swaggering confidence in her step.

Suddenly Drake felt a drop of liquid land on his cheek, he swiped at it, and bringing his fingers to his nose, he smelt wine. Looking up he saw Morozko leaning casually on the bars of a 2nd floor maintenance balcony at the level of the cage. His hand was leaning over the edge, a few fingers covered in the red wine. He met Drake's eyes with severity and a cold expression. Drake stared back and brought his hand to his mouth, licking the wine off his fingers in challenge. Morozko guffawed, the smile yet again not meeting his eyes, but then icy boy looked away to the cage.

And Drake moved off to reach his spot beside the metal hulking beast.

As Jenette jumped up, grabbing hold of the bars of the cage door, she moved her legs, swinging them for momentum, so she could climb up. All the while the elephant just stood at the entrance, not moving to help his opponent up. He had a sneer plastered on, and looked down at her, his arms crossed in disdain.

When Jenette finally scrambled up, he refused to move out of the way for her.

She glared up at all his 7 muscular feet. He sneered back at her, bending down and whispering in her ear, "You may have high people on your side, little bitch," he spat the last word, spittle landing on her cheek, "but know that, in here, there is only me."

"And me." She interrupted. "So watch out elephant. She met his eyes. Make sure to look after your tail, 'cause soon it'll be tucked between your legs." She ducked around him and made her way to her corner.

He yelled after her, "There's no chivalry here, kutiyā, so don't be expecting any."

Jenette just raised her middle finger.

The cage they were fighting in was a simple, barred, 12x14 feet metal structure, with many handholds and jagged edges that Jenette planned to use to her advantage. While she spent her time studying her surroundings and opponent, he spent his time riling up the crowd, his back turned towards her. From that moment she knew he would use his arrogance against him.

A lifetime ago Papa Vasquez declared that it was time for his little girls to become ladies, so he asked they choose something ladylike they wanted to learn so he could sign them up for a class.

Carmen chose jazz.

Jenette chose capoeira.

For two years Jenette learned under one of the best mestre in L.A, until the day Papa Vasquez decided to visit a "dance" recital, only to see his little baby girl dodge a boy's swinging arms and legs to the beat of a drum. She was withdrawn from the class immediately, to her and her master's protestations, "If she had a few more years," Mr. Santos had explained, "she could surpass many of my older students, perhaps even me!" But their pleas fell on deaf ears and Jenette was left to channel her anger out on the neighborhood boys, with whatever was left of her training in the Brazilian martial art dance.

Jenette closed her eyes and she could hear the words of Guilherme Santos echo through her head, "Keep your center of gravity close to the ground, Vasquez. And whatever you do, don't fall down."

She smiled and opened her eyes to the roar of a crowd crazed for blood, a big hulking giant on the opposite side of a cage, tilting the floor under his massive weight, and the excited voice of the emcee declaring the start of the fight.

Jenette lowered herself into a crouched, rhythmic, rocking swing.

Soo capoeira was just another one of those classes I took and failed at, on the first day. But if you're as good on your toes as Jenette is, and like to dance, its perfect for you. If you happen to be a master, please don't hit me for my limited knowledge, like I said, one class...

I think I was channeling my Syrio Forell through Mr. Guilherme Santos... sorry...

kutiyā - Hindi for "bitch" of course. You would think that Hāthī could be a bit more creative...