This chapter is another foray into the Iron Bastille AU, and specifically shows how Katrina was affected by it.
For thirteen years, Katrina Waters had grown up without her parents, only her mother's two best friends; her aunties, she called them. All through her life, Aunt Lizzie and Aunt Marlowe had told her that she was the daughter of Major Circuit champion Iron Bastille, but he wanted nothing to do with her.
Well, all that was about to change.
She had finally been able to escape the clutches of her horrid aunt, and now she was standing before the referee of the World Video Boxing Association. "And your stage name is…?"
"Spitfire Moon," she said confidently.
Pierce finished filling out the registration. "Alrighty. We can get you in for this evening; every newbie starts with Narcis Prince."
Spitfire Moon looked around the area. She could see a really tall guy with a long moustache, and a lean man wearing a turban and a feminist t-shirt, but no Iron Bastille. Her shoulders slumped. She just wanted to meet him and get it over with.
There he is!
Mere minutes remained before Spitfire Moon's first fight, and she had finally found Iron Bastille. She rushed over to him. "Excuse me?!"
Iron Bastille gave her a cold, annoyed look. "Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" (What do you want?)
"Don't walk away," said Spitfire Moon, "I want to talk to you."
Iron Bastille continued walking. "Je ne prends pas de photos." (I don't do pictures.)
Spitfire Moon furrowed her brow. "Excuse me, I work here, Dad."
Iron Bastille stopped, turned, and glared. "J'ai n'a pas des enfants." (I don't have children.)
"You do too, liar," said Spitfire Moon, glaring back, "you ditched me at the hospital, remember?"
Iron Bastille turned and continued to stalk away. Before Spitfire Moon could continue to prod him, Pierce called her to begin her match against Narcis Prince.
Spitfire Moon never thought she would actually win her first fight, but she still walked out of that ring victorious. Now she had to find Iron Bastille again. And there he was, about to leave. "Wait."
Iron Bastille scoffed and rolled his eyes. "J'ai déjà te dire, je ne suis pas ton père." (I've already told you, I'm not your father.)
"How would you know?" Spitfire Moon crossed her arms. "You didn't even bother taking the paternity test."
"Ecoutez, tu petite sale gamine," Iron Bastille spat, "je ne besoin pas toi de prendre soin de et détruite ma carrière." (Listen, you little brat, I don't need you to take care of and ruin my career.)
"Aunt Lizzie and Aunt Marlowe destroyed their careers to take care of me," snapped Spitfire Moon. "What, do their careers not matter as much as yours?"
"Tu veux agir comme une grande héroïne?" Iron Bastille towered over Spitfire Moon. "Tu peux me battre demain matin." (You want to act like a big heroine? You can fight me tomorrow morning.)
"What's going on here?" Pierce came over to break up the argument.
"Je vais battre cette fille première chose demain matin," said Iron Bastille. (I'm fighting this girl first thing tomorrow morning.)
"You can't fight your own children," nagged Spitfire Moon.
"Children?" Pierce looked at Iron Bastille, surprised.
"Elle n'est pas ma fille!" (She is not my daughter!)
"I am so, you coward!"
"Uh, Bas, we do have rules against fighting family members," said Pierce, trying to mediate.
"Forget it," said Spitfire Moon, stalking off to her locker. She put her head against the cold metal. She spent her whole life training so hard to get into the league and find her father…and that is what she gets? All that time wasted, all those years yearning.
She straightened up and furrowed her brow. She was just going to have to get better. Work hard, fight hard, and take the Major Circuit belt. It was going to be hell, but she had to do it.
For Mom.
