A Touch of Red
By evolution-500
Genres: Horror/Friendship/Romance
Feedback: Always welcome
WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, mature themes and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft while RESIDENT EVIL is a property belonging to Capcom. I do not own any of these characters.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Trailblazer
Claire's breath hitched as she stood frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, her form stiffening as Dieter stepped into the room.
"Well, well, well," the latter mused, "looks like someone's been walking past their bedtime and going places where they shouldn't." He clucked disapprovingly, finger-wagging her in a patronizing tone, "Naughty girl."
Swallowing, Claire took a nervous step back. "What's going on here?!"
"Here?" Dieter pretended to play dumb. "Whatever do you mean, Ms. Redfield? This is another hallucination-"
"Stop talking to me as if I'm an idiot - the jig is up!" Claire snapped, gesturing to the cages. "What do you call this?! What the hell have you been doing here?!"
Dieter shrugged. "None of your business, really." Folding his arms behind his back, he slowly started to approach, accompanied by the Theseus androids. "I have to say, you've put me in quite the awkward position. If you come with me, we can have this misunderstanding all cleared up-"
"Like hell!" Claire challenged, staring him down. "What do you take me for, stupid? The moment I go with you, the more likely it is that I will have a "little accident"."
Dieter lightly chuckled. "You really are somethin', kid. To be honest, I was tryin' to give you an out since the Baron seems to have taken a liking to you, but since you are being...uncooperative..." Lifting up his fedora, Claire watched as a dark smile formed on his features, his eyes hidden by a layer of shadow as he spoke, "I think this calls for...drastic measures."
Claire's heart raced as she slowly backed away from the approaching figure.
"S-Stay back," she warned. "I'm warning you, take another step-"
"Or what, sweet-cheeks?" Dieter sneered. "Huh? You think you have the guts to take on several armed Theseus androids and guards by your lonesome?" He laughed. "I'd pay good money to see that!" Tilting his fedora, a dark gleam started to form in his eyes as he gave a thoughtful look. "In fact..."
Claire watched as the Theseus androids filled the chamber, standing adjacent to him, their dark, horse skull-like heads freakishly and menacingly staring directly at her.
As more started to enter, she twisted around on her heel, darting forward when she felt a sudden sharp pain in her back that flared through her entire body, the girl letting out a strangled scream as she felt all her muscles locked up before collapsing.
Lighting his cigarette, Dieter puffed out a plume of smoke as he mused, "Put her in the cage, fellas. Somethin' tells me this one's gonna be interestin'."
Twitching sporadically, Claire was helpless as she found herself pinned down to the floor by several guards as they manhandled her.
"H-Help!" She cried. "HELP-"
"Nobody's coming to help you, darlin'," Dieter interrupted. "It's just you...and us."
Earlier...
He didn't care.
That was what T.J. Combo had tried to tell himself following that nightmarish experience and his discharge from Gupte's care.
He had a hallucination, a freak reaction to the gas that he had inhaled that had made him see things that weren't there, experienced things that he knew couldn't have been real.
Walking alone down the street with his hands in his pockets, T.J. wandered around the castle grounds, feeling restless.
If only he had something to distract himself, to keep him from thinking about that dark shit.
He had tried everything - exercises, practicing his combinations in the gym, lifting weights, hot showers, food, cold drinks, etc - but no matter what he did, T.J. couldn't stop thinking about what happened.
Pinching his nose, he let out a frustrated growl.
Goddamn kid. Why did you have to put these damn thoughts in my head?!
That girl Claire had been trying to get him to open up for some time, trying to speak to him about what happened, but he just wouldn't have it.
After all, they had been exposed to gas and had hallucinations - what was there even to talk about?
None of it was real!
And yet...why was he so bothered?
Stopping at a crossroads, T.J. broodily stared down at his shadow, his thoughts scattered and conflicting.
Even if assuming that Ultratech was hiding something, what was it to him?
What was there to gain from poking one's nose into the company's sphincter?
He had his own problems to figure out - let someone else deal with it! He didn't need more bullshit on his plate!
Looking around at the empty streets, T.J. shivered as he felt a cold chill.
"I need a drink."
Tap, tap, tap, clickety, clickety.
T.J. chugged down his fourth glass of beer as he played "Ghosts 'n Goblins", yanking the joystick as he concentrated on guiding the little knight character Arthur through the level.
"Come on," he spoke to the screen, his fingers tapping the buttons, prompting Arthur to jump and throw a two-dimensional spear at a coming enemy sprite. "Think you're gettin' me this time?! Don't you know who yer dealin' with?"
A zombie popped out of the ground on the screen beside T.J.'s avatar, knocking off his armor, leaving him in nothing but boxers. "Oh, you sneaky little shit! Knock off the Main Man's clothes, huh?"
Tap, tap, clickety, clickety, clickety.
T.J. watched as his avatar jumped and through various spears at the zombie and ghost enemies.
"Yeah, how do you boys like the sweet and buttery taste of these nuts, huh?" T.J. taunted. "Yer about to be teabagged by ten tons of dick!"
"You do realize it's just a video game, right, champ?" the bartender - a short old man in his fifties with a white shirt, grey hair and a friendly mutton chops-styled beard - deadpanned from nearby behind the counter as he casually wiped a glass with a dish cloth.
T.J. ignored him, focused on the screen as he continued to play, taking another sip from his glass.
The little avatar of figure approached a gravestone with a menacing grey crow perched on top, prompting the latter to fly off and swoop up and down.
"Oh no you don't," T.J. growled, tapping the button, watching as the spears missed the approaching enemy. "Don't you dare, bird. Don't you even-!"
The boxer's face fell as the crow hit his character, reducing him to a pile of bones, the words "GAME OVER" flashing on the screen.
Smacking the machine, T.J. let out an indignant huff. "Man, this some bullshit."
"Hey, hey, hey! What'd I tell ya?" the bartender warned, pointing his finger at him. "Don't hit the machines. They cost a bloody fortune."
Grunting, T.J. took another sip from his glass before suddenly wincing as some fuckhead cold-bloodedly murdered a song by Barry White.
"Jesus," he groaned. "Brotha can't sing for shit!"
The bartender scoffed. "Funnily enough, he's not the worst karaoke singer. You shoulda listened to the woman that tried to do "Moon River" - cross my heart and swear to God, I thought a cat was being skinned durin' that number!" He shuddered.
Looking over his shoulder, T.J. glanced around. "By any chance, have you seen that Orchid chick around?"
"Who?"
"Orchid? You know, woman in a green jacket, with a black bob cut and tits like this?" T.J. questioned as he held out his hands in front of his chest in illustration.
The bartender shrugged. "Sorry, pal. Doesn't ring any bells for me. Besides, I don't think I woulda been much help to you, anyway - all these fighters are the same to me. Every season some new batch of contestants come in, but they all just come and go like the weather. Not many leave much of an impression around here, if ever."
Grunting, T.J. sipped his drink. "How about me? Does the Main Man make an impression?"
The old man scoffed. "Oh, you do, alright...albeit for all the wrong reasons." He muttered the last part under his breath.
"Why's that?"
The bartender raised a brow. "Do you have all day?"
T.J. quietly watched the old fart, then shrugged. "Fair enough, I guess." He then looked around past the arcade machines, at the dance floor and at the jukebox. "Did you happen to see a girl in a red vest and shorts around here? Long brown hair tied in a ponytail with bushy bangs?"
Raising his head, the old man pursed his lips in thought, his brows scrunching up slightly. "Hmm...Now that you mention it, I do kind of have a recollection of servin' someone matchin' that description. She had been on the dance floor awhile back with another feller, that Coen criminal. She seemed like a nice enough girl." He then gave T.J. a suspicious look. "Why? What's it to you?"
T.J. raised his hands. "Just askin'." He took a gulp from his glass, finishing his drink. "Thanks for the beer, dude."
Moving from the arcade machine, T.J. placed the glass on the counter and exited the bar, slipping his hands hands in his pockets as he walked away whistling, feeling slightly buzzed.
He needed some action.
Whether it was a fight or a good, long, hard fucking, he needed relief, something to clear his head and keep himself from going crazy.
Rubbing his forehead, T.J. exhaled a plume of condensation as he took in the cool night air, breathing on his hands to keep them warm.
He kept wandering alone on the castle grounds, watching the sky darken overhead, the moon brightly shining.
Humming lightly to himself, T.J. kept walking until a flash of red caught his attention, causing him to look up.
"Huh?" Pausing mid-step, T.J. froze as he suddenly spotted Claire's distinctive figure slipping into the mansion, followed by the big Native American, Thunder.
As she disappeared inside, the boxer stood frozen in thought, staring in the direction of Spencer Mansion's looming frame.
"...Nope!"
Turning around, T.J. started to walk away.
'Come on, man, really?' some inner part of him protested.
"Don't care. Not my business," he muttered to himself, focusing directly on the path ahead.
She could get in trouble.
"So?" he retorted, quickening his step. "Why should I care? She's an adult - let her bear the consequences of her own damn decisions! Everyone has to grow up sometime."
She could get hurt, if not killed.
Stopping in his tracks, a cold chill ran through T.J. as the thought crossed his mind, the boxer looking conflictedly over his shoulder before returning his gaze to the road in front of him, listening to the rustling leaves and tree branches.
Growling, T.J. cursed his conscience.
Goddamn it.
Why?!
Why now?!
Why couldn't he just walk the fuck walk away?!
This was none of his business - he had his own shit to deal with!
He came all this way to pull himself out from the shit that he's in, and now here he was, thinking about risking it all for some dumb bitch?!
T.J. winced.
'No,' he thought.
Claire wasn't a bitch - not by a long shot.
'Besides,' he reasoned, 'she has Thunder with her. She'll be fine.'
And yet, some part of him wasn't convinced.
'Do you really want to do this, brotha?' he questioned himself.
After all, this was his last chance at having it all back; if he were to get caught, this would be the end of the line for him.
Then again, maybe he could try to blame it on the booze and appeal to the Baron's mercy somehow...if he had any.
If he was lucky, he'd find something of interest that might prove potentially beneficial to him; after all, all megacorporations have secrets, and a particularly persuasive man could in theory get compensation for his silence.
Of course, there was no guarantee that there would even be anything of value inside.
Staring down at the brick floor, T.J.'s shoulders slumped as he sighed.
"Well," he muttered, "better than doin' porn."
The mansion felt bigger than he had remembered.
Stepping into the main hall, T.J. looked around, frowning as he rubbed a hand against his jaw and chin.
"Where have you gone now, Claire?"
As he stepped toward the stairs, he suddenly froze, listening intently.
It was faint and distant, but he heard it just the same - Claire calling out.
He frowned. From the sound of her voice, it seemed to come from somewhere down below, but where...?
Moving past the stairs to the right, T.J. looked behind it, his frown deepening as he saw a path with a hidden gate.
"Oh, you gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he muttered. Staring at the path, T.J. huffed. "Of course. Of course it's in the creepy basement. What was I thinkin'?"
For several seconds, the boxer debated with himself over his fateful decision.
Brotha, think about what yer doin'. Get outta there. This is dumb, even for you.
Staring at the gate, he pursed his lips, clicking his tongue as he silently pondered his next move.
"...Fuck it."
'Just a quick look,' he told himself.
Just a quick peak inside, and then T.J. would haul ass.
Taking in a deep breath, the boxer braced himself as he took his first step toward the gate. "Well...here goes nothin'."
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Those words rang in the back of T.J.'s mind as he finished climbing the last step.
At first, he was going to turn right and head deeper into the tunnels, but curiosity got the better of T.J. as he decided to take the left route.
From there, he had gotten lost through a labyrinthine blur of tunnels, some of which seemed to stretch on forever.
He had no idea where the fuck he was going; he took a left, right, another left, another right, and then a right, where he found himself in what appeared to be a large open warehouse with various boxes.
Ducking low, T.J. carefully hid behind the boxes while various guards patrolled and swept through the area, immediately regretting his life decisions.
How the fuck did he get into this mess?!
He was T.J. Combo, boxer superstar, not fuckin' James Bond!
Crouching low, T.J. waited until the guard left before moving behind another crate, slowly working his way toward a door.
Grabbing the handle, he turned it, only to find it locked.
Damn.
Slipping behind a crate, T.J. ran a hand over his mouth.
Fuck, this wasn't good.
Where should he go now?
Peaking out from his hiding spot, T.J. carefully took note of his surroundings and the positions of the guards.
There were five armed guards total, two of which were smoking and casually engaging in conversation in a language he didn't understand, possibly German. The others either stood guard or patrolled back and forth in a given area.
Looking frantically around, T.J. wiped the sweat from his brow as he searched for an exit, more than once cursing under his breath.
This was a stupid idea. What a fucking dumbass he had been!
Just when he seemed to have lost hope, T.J. noticed a barely concealed door past some crates up ahead.
Once he was sure that nobody was looking, T.J. proceeded to silently crawl on his hands and knees, shuffling past a crate or two before edging his way toward his destination.
'Please don't let this one be locked,' he prayed.
Please don't let this-
Grabbing the handle, T.J. grinned as he felt it turned.
Yes!
Cracking it open slightly, T.J. peered inside, glancing nervously over his shoulder to make certain nobody was around.
When he was finally certain that he was alone and that the path was clear, T.J. took the risk and stepped through, closing the door quickly behind him.
He now found himself in a dimly lit, crumbling blue and grey hallway with various openings, doors and paths, the wallpaper peeled and aged, the concrete floor scuffed.
A great number of rooms were boarded up, and though there were one or two areas - mainly offices - that hadn't been, they were all barren, covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs
One room was white, long, and narrow, with a white cuboid table on a raised step at the end that was covered in debris, although there were a few beakers here and there. Everything about the place was dilapidated and filthy, with peeling wallpaper, the air thick with the smell of ruined drywall and what seemed like a touch of mold.
However, one scent in particular caught the boxer's attention as he let out a light cough and waved his hand through the air, covering his nose with the collar of his shirt.
'Jesus, what a smell!' He thought.
What kind of place was this?!
What had they been working on down here?
From the layout, it seemed to have been a lab or something at one point, but almost everything down here so far had been stripped of any and all equipment.
Even the computer monitors had been taken, leaving nothing behind except for the cuboid table, some empty cupboards and shelves, a few beakers, and a distinctive underlying odor that T.J. had recognized all-too well, causing him to cough.
Formaldehyde.
"Fucking Christ! Never thought I'd smell this shit again." He wrinkled his nose. "Ugh! Smells just like my Grade Nine science teacher's bin of pig fetuses."
Wincing at the memory, he shuddered as the images of those tiny dead pickled piglets flashed in his mind, along with the various dissections he had to endure at the time.
Inhaling deeply through his nose, T.J. controlled his breathing, exhaling slowly through his mouth.
Once he had his breathing under control, he opened his eyes and straightened his vest as he backed out of the room and stepped back into the hall.
God, he wished there was a window or something around here so he could air the place out, if not clear his nose of that stinking shit.
Rubbing his nose, T.J. glanced around at the hall from left to right, making note of the number of rooms.
From what he was seeing so far of this place, the mansion had tons of room; so much room that it could have housed potentially dozens of personnel.
And yet, here it was, in this miserable state.
How much money was wasted in building this structure?
Why hadn't Baron Von Sabrewulf sold this place, if not scrapped it?
T.J. wasn't a bright man by any means - as a high school dropout, he would hardly call himself "intelligent", let alone "smart" - but even a dumbass such as him was capable of understanding that something was up.
The fact that the Baron hadn't even bothered to renovate this place whatsoever was puzzling enough, and more and more T.J. was starting to not buy the "toxic gas" explanation that he had so very much wanted to believe earlier.
But...then that begged the question - why had the Baron sealed off the mansion in the first place?
Why keep everyone out?
What was with all the secrecy?
What was the Baron hiding down here?
T.J. recalled the day when he, Thunder and Billy had rescued Claire, a cold chill running through his body.
Christ, he could barely even recall the directions that they took to find her, but the memory of that blood-drenched room and that thing that had been attacking Claire was crystal clear in T.J.'s mind, causing the boxer to shudder.
If it was a hallucination, then it was one hell of a trip.
If it wasn't...
The boxer stonily said nothing, his mind troubled as he focused his attention elsewhere.
Moving down the hall, T.J. silently crept past the various rows of boarded-up doors, testing one or two of them to see if it were possible to check inside.
Nope, definitely not. Not without alerting the guards anyway.
Swallowing, T.J. continued to check each and every room, moving all the way down toward a door at the end, his heart beating audibly in his ears.
As he drew closer, one room to his right caught his immediate attention - a partially open door with light trickling out from a small crack.
Puzzled, T.J.'s brow furrowed as he approached the door, pushing it open slightly as he squinted peering inside.
What the hell?
Inside, he saw a man lying unconscious on a gurney, the figure strapped down with an IV unit inserted into his arm, his face concealed by a respirator. Near the gurney, an EKG machine repeatedly blipped, along with a little table that had a bluish cloth with gold ornamentation.
Looking cautiously around, T.J. pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes widening in recognition.
"...Ninja Boy?!"
Jago lied unresponsive on the gurney, his form unmoving, not even registering.
Pulling the respirator off, T.J. was surprised to see a young, handsome Asian face underneath, his features cleanshaven and smooth.
"...Huh. So that's what you look like underneath that mask of yers," he commented. "I don't know what I was expecting."
He glanced over his shoulder, making sure nobody was around.
"Anyway, I think it's time to wake up, Ninja Boy." Looking back to the monk, T.J. started to gently shake Jago awake. "Hey, hey! Hey! Come on, wake up, Ninja Boy! Jago? Jago!"
Giving him one last shake, the boxer watched as Jago groaned, his eyes fluttering open.
"T-T...J...?" he slurred.
T.J. shushed him, whispering, "Easy there, Ninja Boy. Are you hurt?"
Swallowing, Jago weakly shook his head as he sat up, wincing as he raised a hand to block out the light. "W-Where...Where am I?"
"We're in the abandoned Spencer Mansion," T.J. explained. "I'll get you out of here, but you're gonna need to be quiet. First, let's get this shit off of you."
Jago was still as T.J. removed the plugs and the intravenous needle from his arm.
"W-Where are the others?" the former rasped.
T.J. shook his head. "You've been missin' out, bud. Billy's been arrested - apparently he's a war criminal or somethin'." Blinking in surprise, Jago looked up with a quizzical expression, causing the boxer to shrug. "Don't look at me, I was just as surprised as you. But yeah, from what I heard, he's been taken by military police to Regarthon Base."
"Is that so?"
"It's true."
Blinking, Jago hummed, lifting a hand to his face before suddenly freezing. "Where's my veil?"
Grabbing the veil from the table, T.J. held it out to him.
Taking it, the monk appreciatively nodded as he placed it back on. "Thank you."
The boxer saluted. "Anytime." He then gave Jago a concerned look. "Can you walk?"
Pushing himself off the bed, Jago weakly struggled to rise up to his feet, nearly falling to the ground as he grabbed onto the gurney's rails for support.
"Easy, Jago," T.J. assured, grabbing onto the monk as he helped him up to his feet. "I got ya."
The monk winced. "I don't think I can walk right now. The anesthetic must still be in my system."
"Guess I'll just have ta carry ya then," T.J. nodded. "Let's get out of here before the guards come back."
Placing Jago's arm over his shoulder, T.J. carefully lifted the monk up and guided him out of the room.
Stepping out into the hall, the latter exhaled. "Thank you, my friend."
T.J. shrugged. "Don't mention it, fella."
As he started to carry Jago back to where he came from, the two of them heard a woman's voice, causing the two of them to freeze on the spot.
"...You hear that?" Jago asked.
"I did," T.J. nodded. "Sounds like Claire."
Jago pointed to the door at the other end of the hall. "It's coming from in there. Hurry, we need to help her."
Sighing, T.J. adjusted his grip on Jago as he carried the monk, wondering what else this place had in store for them.
"...What the fuck is this?!"
He had no idea what he and Jago had been expecting to find as they both entered the room.
There were...things...in plexiglass and metal cages.
Ugly-looking things.
Things that looked like they should only exist in a horror movie or nightmare.
And there were a lot of them.
An awful lot of them.
So many creatures of various shapes and sizes, the air noxious and dreadful, like rot with feces, a loathsome combination that made the boxer lightly cough and cover his nose.
"Goddamn, that's one hell of a smell," T.J. winced as the chamber was filled with the monstrous agitated cries of its inhuman occupants, the sounds so loud that it made the boxer's ears hurt from the racket. "Noisy too."
Jago eyed the various cages, looking from one end of the room to the other, seeming more alert.
"By the Tiger, they are numerous!" He said in awe.
"Any idea on what the hell these things are?" T.J. questioned.
In one cage, a thing that looked a reptilian ape or monkey was rattling furiously at its cage, slamming its bulk into its frame, its eyes wild and hungry, its mouth slobbering.
"Your guess is as good as mine, mighty one," Jago said slowly, holding onto T.J. for support.
A loud roar from a nearby cage startled T.J., causing him to nearly drop the monk as he whipped around.
Turning around, the boxer had to do a double-take as he saw the beast within a large plexiglass enclosure, a massive entity with a bloody orange hide and a long scorpion-like tail that hovered menacingly over its back, its forearms bound in a pair of silver manacles.
Staring at them both with a pair of slitted inhuman green eyes was a thing that looked like a snake interbred with a human, its gaze unnervingly intelligent and calculating.
"What the fu-? A dinosaur?! Really?!" T.J. exclaimed. "What else do they have down here, Jimmy Hoffa?!" He suddenly froze. "Wait...I've seen this thing before." His eyes widened in recognition. "Yeah! Yeah, I remember this guy! He's, uh...whatcha call it...er...Toxin, right?"
"What are you talking about?" Jago asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.
"He's one of those things featured in the Killer Instinct program, the raptor-looking thing in one of the various previews that we've seen during the tournament."
"Riptor?"
"Yeah! Yeah, that's it! Riptor! I thought this thing was a dude in a suit or an animatronic."
A forked tongue flickered, the beast letting out a threatening hiss.
"Apparently not," Jago replied in a low voice.
As if in confirmation, the creature stretched its mouth all the way open at a one hundred and eighty degree angle, revealing sharp teeth and a pair of enormous viper-like fangs, its roar loud enough to cause the fighters to wince.
"Fuckin' shit," T.J. groaned. "Really friendly, ain't he?"
The creature bashed, gnawed and clawed against its cage, its fanged teeth and jaws pressing directly against the glass, allowing T.J. to see all the way down its gullet.
"Jesus!" The boxer swore.
"What's going on down there?!" An unfamiliar voice barked, causing T.J. and Jago to tense up.
"Shit," the former whispered as he carried the latter over to a crate, ducking low as two armed guards wearing protective suits approached.
"Goddamn it, this thing again!" One groaned.
"What is its problem this time?" The other asked.
"Who knows. It's always a pain in the ass to deal with. Fuckin' thing was probably spooked by one of these other freaks. Come on, let's get out of here before it decides to spit at us again."
The second guard exhaled. "Man, thank God for the plexiglass is strong enough to keep that thing in." He shivered. "That acid spit of it uses is really nasty stuff."
"No kidding," the first guard nodded. "I hate to be the guy on the receiving end of that. Hell, those teeth do some mean damage as well! Did you hear about what it did to Peters?"
The second guard shook his head in disgust. "Ugh! I saw his body. Really bad fuckin' way to go, man. Really bad way to go."
T.J. waited as the guards departed, causing the boxer to let out a sigh of relief.
"That was a close one," he whispered, his companion nodding in agreement.
From somewhere close, a familiar feminine strangled scream filled the air, the sound accompanied by a distinct crackling of a taser and a thud.
"Claire?" T.J. murmured.
"Put her in the cage, fellas," another voice called. "Somethin' tells me this one's gonna be interestin'."
Peeking from behind the crate, T.J. watched as the girl weakly struggled as she was manhandled by a group of armed guards.
"H-Help!" She cried. "HELP-"
"Nobody's coming to help you, darlin'," a grey-suited figure spoke, his features concealed by a fedora. "It's just you...and us."
T.J. watched as Claire was forcefully dragged, the girl digging her heels into the floor and wriggling.
"Let go of me!" She cried as she was carried toward a large cage. "Help! Someone help!"
Giving one guard a straight kick to the family jewels, T.J. winced as Claire successfully landed a blow to one in front of her, the guard doubled over with high-pitched cry, holding his groin.
"Bitch!" Another guard snapped as he backhanded her, the girl letting out a yell.
Clenching his jaw, T.J. was about to lunge forward when he felt Jago grab him by the shoulder.
"Wait," the latter whispered.
T.J. wrenched his arm free. "They're gonna kill her!"
"I know that, but we need a plan first. I'll distract them while you-"
"No."
Jago blinked. "But-"
"You're still too weak to be runnin' around, Ninja Boy. Besides, the Main Man has a plan. Stay here until you feel better," T.J. said, shrugging Jago off his shoulder, carefully lowering the latter against the crate before pulling away.
"So, what is your plan exactly?" Jago questioned, eying the boxer.
T.J. punched the palm of his hand. "Watch and learn, little man. The Main Man is gonna rock this joint!"
Charging from his hiding place, the boxer ran full sprint toward the struggling guards.
"HEY FAGGOTS!" As one guard turned his head, T.J. lunged, ramming his knee straight into his helmeted head. "KNEE! KAY! OH! C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-OMBO-BREAKER!"
Glass shattered as the man cried out, the boxer whirling around on his partner with a spinning backhand before following with an uppercut, the blow causing him to release his grip on Claire, who stood dumbfounded.
Turning to her, T.J. waved her away. "Go! Get outta here, girl! I'll hold 'em off!"
"But-"
"Go, dammit! Get the fuck out-" T.J. screamed as he was tased, the two fighters suddenly finding themselves surrounded.
The grey-suited figure approached, puffing his cigarette as he mused, "Well...that was something! I gotta hand it to ya, T.J. - you really know how to create an impression!"
T.J. grunted as he and Claire struggled to wrench their wrists free from the guards. "Funny, that's what your momma said to me last night after I pounded out her ass."
The man cackled. "You sure that's my mother, pal? I know you made sex tapes and all, but I didn't think you'd be into necrophilia of all things." Shrugging, he continued to smoke. "Whatever floats your boat, chief."
T.J. strained himself under the grip of his captors, his heart racing as more guys started to enter the chamber.
"Oy, Dieter!" A fat bald man in a suit called. "What's goin' on?"
Dieter waved. "Nothing much, Clive. Just caught a pair of dickheads sniffing around where they're weren't supposed to be."
"Make that three," a distorted voice called from T.J.'s left, causing the latter to turn his head and wince as a barely conscious Jago was stumbling toward them with him arms tied behind his back, escorted by two security personnel. "Found this one hiding behind some crates."
T.J. watched as a frown started to form on Dieter's face. "Why is it that now is the season when we get all the retards coming out of the woodwork?!" His eyes narrowed. "Any other surprises?"
The guard shook his head. "No, sir."
"Good." Looking back over to Claire and T.J., Dieter thoughtfully smoked, crossing his arms as he regarded them both, his Theseus androids standing close, staring unblinkingly with their horse skull-like heads . "Hm. What should I do with you two?"
Beside him, Claire swallowed. "L-Let us go."
T.J. watched as Dieter raised a brow. "Why would I do that?"
"Because my brother is with S.T.A.R.S.," Claire replied, her voice becoming more confident. "If anything happens to me, you better be prepared, because the people of S.T.A.R.S. won't stop until they take both you and Ultratech down!"
Looking over to his companions, Dieter let out a laugh alongside them, the chamber filled with echoes. "Ballsy broad! I can see why the Baron likes you, girl." Placing a hand on his hip, Dieter thoughtfully tilted his hat. "I'll tell you what - I'm feelin' awful generous. I'll let you go...but...on the condition that you do something for us."
Rage filled T.J.'s heart as he struggled against his captors' grip. "You bastard! I swear to God, if you so much as touch her-"
"You are in no position to make threats, pal," Dieter interrupted. "If I wanted to, I could have her blow and service every person and creature in this room easily right in front of you, and neither you nor your ninja buddy would have been able to do anything about it."
T.J. clenched his jaw while Claire's face paled, her eyes widening in fright.
Upon seeing the latter, Dieter's features lightened. "But I'm not gonna do that - we're not mad, sex-starved animals." He looked over his shoulders at the other guards. "Right, fellas?"
A murmur of agreement was uttered, the sound low.
Claire swallowed. "What...What do you want?"
Dieter straightened his tie. "It's very simple, really - we want a good show. For some time now, Ultratech has been receiving a lot of requests for human/creature matchups. The Baron has been against such things, but me? I'm more of an entrepreneurial spirit, to be honest. I say that we give the audience what it wants. These are my terms: one of you has to survive a fight with one of our creatures. If the fighter succeeds, I'll let all three of you leave, and we'll pretend nothing has ever happened, that way you'll get to stay and continue on in the tournament."
"And if we...if we lose?" Claire questioned.
Dieter shrugged. "Then I'm afraid you'll have no choice but to stay within the arena."
T.J. narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "And what guarantee do we have that you won't go back on your word?"
He watched as the grey-suited figure gave a dark chuckle. "You don't, really. I'm afraid that you don't really have any choice in the matter. That being said, your best option is to cooperate. Just one little scrap, and if you win, we let ya go." He then gave the fighters an expectant look. "So...do we have a deal?"
T.J. watched as Claire gave him and Jago nervous glances, the girl swallowing.
"...Deal."
Underneath the brim of his fedora, T.J. saw a bright smile form, the man's face largely cast in shadow save for his white, pearly teeth. "Excellent! Let get this show on the road then!"
The chamber was silent as Claire fidgeted nervously, watching the film crew as they got everything ready.
Looking over to T.J., the teenager gave an apologetic nod.
"I'm..." Her shoulders drooped, "I'm sorry."
Blinking in surprise, T.J. gave her a confused look. "For what?"
"For..." Her gaze fell to the floor as she spoke, "for getting you involved."
The boxer said nothing at first, then looked away, shrugging. "Meh, couldn't be helped, I guess."
The pair were silent as they stood awkwardly together, watching as preparations were being made.
Claire swallowed. "Why...why did you come down? I thought you wanted nothing more to do with me."
He gave a slight grunt. "Good question." Looking to the ceiling, T.J. pushed his sunglasses up to the bridge of his nose. "It's a hell of a thing, kid. I don't give a shit. I don't give a shit about anything but winning." His voice softened, his facial features losing some of its hardness as he continued, "That's...That's what I tried to tell myself, anyway." He sighed, adding, "I guess after all those times of telling myself over and over again that I didn't care, somewhere along the way, I ended up caring one way or the other. And now, here I am, doing my one good deed. Ain't that a bitch."
Claire stared at him for a long time, her eyes filled with regret and sorrow. "I'm sorry, T.J. God, I'm so sorry for dragging you into this!"
T.J. shook his head. "Don't. Ya did nothing wrong, kid. It was the Main Man's choice, so you don't need to apologize. Don't apologize for my being a dumbass, okay?" Claire gave a low giggle, causing T.J. to give an amused partial smirk. Dropping his smile, he then looked directly at her, giving her a serious and concerned look. "How you holdin' up, kid? You doin' okay?"
The teenager shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I guess. I'm...I'm a little scared right now."
T.J. gave a sympathetic grunt. "You're gonna be alright, kid. I saw the way you handled yourself back there. Nice kick by the way."
Claire gave a light laugh. "Well, I don't punch boulders like my brother does, but he did teach me a thing or two."
The boxer chuckled. "Sounds like an interesting fella. Remind me when we're outta here to pay your brother a visit and give him a signed autograph."
The girl giggled. "I'll hold you to that."
As the laughter died down between them, the two contestants looked around at the group nearby along with the various creatures as they restlessly paced back and forth in their cages.
"...Do you think they're going to let us go?" Claire asked in a hushed voice.
T.J. frowned. "They better, otherwise the Main Man's gonna be smackin' ass and takin' names. Let's hope for the best, though - we just have to tough it out, that's all. Once we get this shit over with, we can put this behind us."
Claire said nothing, her face filled with doubt and uncertainty.
Seeing her expression, T.J.'s face softened. "Listen, Claire," he said slowly, drawing her attention, "...I know yer scared. It's fucked-up, right? We just need to keep our cool and not go nuts down here, okay? No matter what happens, we can't panic. We can't afford to panic, otherwise one of us is gonna end up dead down here, so I'm gonna need you to stay strong, okay?"
Claire remained silent as she digested his point, the girl giving a nervous look over her shoulder as a creature banged loudly against its container nearby.
Shakily looking back, Claire swept her bangs out of her face. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, okay."
Grasping her shoulder, T.J. then gave an encouraging nod back along with a reassuring squeeze before pulling away.
Nodding appreciatively back, Claire then looked over to Jago, watching as he rested quietly against a crate, his eyes closed, looking as if he were asleep.
Looking back to T.J., Claire nudged him with her elbow and pointed. "T.J., is Jago alright? What happened to him?"
Looking to where she indicated, T.J. shook his head. "Dunno. I found him down here strapped to a gurney with all sorts of wires and shit sticking out of him. Had a respirator and everything."
"A respirator?" Claire repeated, her brows furrowing.
"Yeah. I think they've been knockin' him out with gas or whatever, I have no clue. He's been pretty out of it."
Worried, Claire kneeled down and shook Jago's shoulder. "Jago? Jago?"
Groaning, Jago's eyes drowsily peeled opened. "Hm?"
"Are you feeling okay?" Claire worriedly asked.
Jago nodded. "I'm fine, thanks. The anesthetic is still in my system, but I am recovering, slowly but surely."
Claire gave a relieved exhale. "Okay, well, if anything happens, let me know, alright?"
Nodding, the monk closed his eyes and continued to rest.
Pushing herself up, Claire looked back to T.J. "Any ideas on why Ultratech has been keeping him down here?"
T.J. shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Why didn't you ask him about that?"
Claire shook her head. "It didn't seem appropriate to do that. Not when he's in that state and with all these thugs around us."
Crossing his arms, the boxer hummed. "Well, probably wouldn't have made much difference anyway."
Turning their attention elsewhere, the pair watched as the film crew made the final preparations while Dieter stood by a chalk board containing a list of names.
"Okay, gents, gather round, gather round!" Dieter waved. "This is a show that we have all been waiting for!"
Claire watched as the group hollered and waved money around in the air.
Looking over to the chalk board, Dieter crossed his arms. "So then, who should we start off with for this fine evening?"
A guard fist-pumped in the air, yelling, "I say we use Cinder! He's in the cage already."
"Indeed," Dieter nodded, turning to face Claire and the others. "And which one of you three wants to have a go?"
Claire opened her mouth to respond when Jago suddenly pushed himself off the floor with startling speed, staggering slightly as he straightened himself. "I will be the first."
Hesitating, Claire gave him a concerned and worried look. "Jago, no! You haven't fully recovered yet."
"I will manage," he replied.
"But-"
"I've already made my decision, Claire," Jago affirmed as he turned to directly face her. "While I appreciate your concern, I am certain that I am up for the challenge."
T.J. frowned. "You sure about this, Ninja Boy? You seem pretty out of it."
The Tibetan monk nodded. "While I might not have fully recovered, I believe that I am more than capable of holding my own regardless." Turning his attention over to the fire being standing still inside the cage, Jago regarded his opponent, his eyes filled with determination and curiosity.
Exhaling, Claire nodded. "Just...just be careful in there, okay?"
Jago placed his fist into his palm and bowed. "I will do my best."
T.J. smirked, giving him a thumbs up. "Good luck in there, Ninja Boy."
Turning to face him, Jago nodded. "Thank you, my friend. May the Tiger Spirit guide you both."
As he started to turn toward the cage, Claire spoke up, "Jago?"
"Yes?"
Claire bit her lip, looking conflictedly at Cinder before returning her gaze back to the Tibetan monk. "Try...Try not to hurt Cinder too much, okay? He's in enough pain as it is."
Jago silently stared at her, then gave a conceding nod. "I will do what I can for him."
Claire watched as Jago made his way toward the cage, the latter escorted by a pair of armed guards.
The air around the arena felt incredibly hot, so hot that it felt like the dry heat of a desert.
Inside, the arena's occupant didn't stir at all, his flaming body lighting up the center like a great human-shaped lantern, the brightest object in the chamber itself.
Jago wordlessly studied the fire being as it stood with his back facing him, the creature not moving a single muscle, even as the guards cautiously unlocked the cage.
"Get in there!" One of them growled, shoving Jago by the shoulder, nearly making him stumble inside.
Giving the guards a dark look, Jago turned his attention over to his opponent, staring at him in awe.
Solar flares pulsed around the creature's form, his being rippling with plasma and power.
Finally, the being spoke, its voice strangely and unnervingly alien. "So," it said slowly, "you're gonna be my opponent."
Jago nodded. "It would seem so." Furrowing his brows, he gave Cinder a quizzical look. "My apologies, friend, but...what are you exactly? Are you a fire demon?"
Cinder scoffed. "Demon? Ha!" He gave a low laugh. "I ain't no demon."
"A god?" Jago questioned. Seeing Cinder shake his head, he pressed, "Then what are you? I've never seen anything like you before."
Cinder said nothing, at first, the fire being crossing his arms.
"One of Ultratech's failed experiments." Came the reply, his tone sharp and bitter.
"Ultratech made you like this?" Cinder let out a dismissive huff, the sound harsh and grating, making Jago wince as he dipped his head. "I'm sorry to hear."
His opponent clicked his tongue, harrumphing. "Yeah, well..." He suddenly paused, lifting his head slightly, as if remembering something. "Wait a minute. Have we...have we met before?"
Jago blinked several times, raising his brow slightly. "Um...no?"
"I swear I heard your voice somewhere," Cinder remarked. "Your voice...it...kind of sounds familiar..."
Trailing off, Cinder lifted his head and turned around to face him, giving Jago his first up-close look at the fire effigy.
A pair of glowing reddish eyes were the only things visible, the rest of his "face" - if it could even be called that - concealed by a deceptively smooth fiery mass of plasma.
For several long moments, Jago stood staring, simultaneously fascinated, yet wary.
By contrast, his opponent has a different reaction upon seeing him; for several seconds, Cinder stared at him, until finally Jago detected a flicker of emotion in its glowing red eyes, the latter widening in shock.
"You..."
Jago blinked. "Uh...do I...know you?"
Before Jago had a chance to even react, Cinder angrily charged toward him, a blur of motion that caught him completely off-guard as he was suddenly and violently backhanded hard across the face, the blow causing his jaw to rattle, the monk stumbling.
"YOU!" Cinder roared in rage, his fists pummeling at Jago's chest, stomach, arms as the latter attempted to block his attacks, each strike quick, hot and painful.
Rolling out of the way, Jago placatingly raised his hands. "My friend, please-!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Cinder snapped as he delivered a vicious side kick, the blow knocking Jago back, the Tibetan monk slamming violently against the cage, causing the other creatures in adjacent cages to rattle against their bars.
Outside, the people outside watching cheered them on, the chamber echoing with laughter and agitated roars.
"JAGO!" Claire cried, watching as Cinder mercilessly assaulted the Tibetan monk.
"OOOH, THAT'S gotta sting!" Dieter snickered as a somersault kick caught Jago by the chin, knocking the latter off his feet.
Turning to face him, Claire balled up her hands into fists. "Stop this, please! You're gonna kill him!"
Dieter said nothing, his eyes focused on the fight ahead of them, watching with a sick grin.
Giving him a look of disgust, Claire turned her gaze back to the arena before putting her hands over her mouth, hollering out, "Cinder, stop! Cinder please! Stop doing this! You don't have to do this!"
The girl along with T.J. flinched as Cinder delivered a hard uppercut, the blow propelling Jago into the air before slamming him down hard onto the floor.
"Damn, that was a nasty hit," T.J. remarked. "Come on, Jago, fight back! Kick that thing's ass!"
"T.J., no!" Claire scolded.
"What?!" The boxer gave a confused and indignant look. "I'm just trying to show support for my man in there!"
"We need to stop this somehow," the girl murmured.
"How?! Unless you have a grenade launcher hidden in those shorts of yours, there's no way we're gonna be able to cut through a bunch of goddamned Theseus androids and heavily-armed assholes!"
Claire worriedly watched as Jago dodged strike after strike, her eyes turning over to Cinder.
"Cinder please!" She pleaded. "You don't have to do what Ultratech says! They're only manipulating you! You don't have to follow their orders! Cinder, I beg you, please! Stop hurting him!"
Cinder gave her a glance before returning his eyes back to Jago, continuing his assault.
"...I don't think he's interested in hearing what you have to say, honey," Dieter dryly remarked, earning a glare from the teenager.
Flashing him the middle finger, Claire helplessly looked around at the crowd, watching as they all laughed, pointed and cheered, even raising drinks.
"PLEASE!" She begged. "Someone, anyone! Please! Stop this fight!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!" An annoyed voice called back, eliciting a series of demonic guffaws that mixed with the various inhuman cries of the surrounding cages as their occupants became increasingly more restless.
Looking back to Cinder, Claire wiped her forehead. "Why won't he stop?!"
"I have no idea," T.J. shook his head, "but from what I'm seein', he looks like he has serious beef with Jago or somethin'. I don't know what his deal is, but Jago better figure out somethin' quick, or it's his ass!"
From the sidelines, R.I.P.T.O.R. tackled and clawed against its plexiglass cage, slamming its entire weight into the frame, its scorpion-like tail slamming and stabbing repeatedly at every surface.
Letting out a fierce roar, the beast spat at the plexiglass wall, the material hissing and smoking as it slammed over and over into the wall, the corners slowly giving way from seven hundred pounds of sheer force.
Jago dodged a slew of angry strikes, his skin and uniform torn and burned in several areas, the former red and patchy.
"My friend, please!" Jago raised a placating hand, rolling out of the way as Cinder jump kicked toward him, the fire being crashing down. "There's no need for this aggression! There's no reason for us to fight each other!"
Somersaulting out the way of another slew of frenzied strikes, Jago ducked and weaved through each blow, trying to put as much distance between him and this incredibly lethal adversary.
Whatever this being was, it was far stronger and faster than anything Jago had ever faced, and it was only through sheer strength of will and luck that he managed to last this long.
He had to move quicker in order to avoid getting in direct contact with his opponent, far faster than he ever had, and he wasn't sure if it would be enough, for at times it seemed as Cinder were faster.
Pain flared as fire singed his skin, even when Jago was merely inches from Cinder's being, the heat growing stronger by the minute.
"Are you kidding me?!" Cinder exclaimed. "This has gotta be a fucking joke! Of all the assholes to meet again, it has to be YOU?!"
Recollecting himself, Jago furrowed his brows, puzzled by his opponent's reaction. "Wha-? "Wrinkling his brows, Jago watched as the fire being ranted and raved, his flames angrily burning, causing embers to flicker off from his body.
Lifting his arm to protect his eyes, Jago watched Cinder as he paced back and forth like an animal, his mood growing more explosively volatile by the second.
Even some of the guards were anxiously taking a few nervous steps back, some of them clutching tightly onto their rifles and fire extinguishers.
Looking over to Dieter, Cinder angrily raised his fist and pointed at him. "Dieter, you bastard! You dirty, rat-sucking, dickless, motherless jackass!"
Dieter calmly smoked his cigarette. "Karma's a hell of a thing, ain't it, Benny?"
"What's he talking about?" Claire asked beside him.
"That's between him and your friend," Dieter shrugged.
Backtracking, Jago kept his eyes focused on Cinder as he approached.
"I remember you, faggot!" The latter roared, cracking his knuckles. "It's because of you that I've ended up like this!"
"Huh?" Ducking and rolling out of the way from a series of fiery jabs and kicks, Jago gave his opponent a confused look. "What are you talking about?"
Cinder kept advancing, ranting and raving, his red eyes ablaze with pain and fury, his form surrounded by a hellishly red aureole that seemed to glow brighter the more angrier he became.
"It was supposed to have been an easy job," Cinder ranted. "Get in, take whatever, then get the fuck out. Nobody was supposed to have been awake. It was supposed to have been like any other job, but no! I had to take that job like the idiot that I am, and what do I get for it?! Trouble, starting with you!"
The cage wall cracked as Cinder's fist connected, missing Jago as he quickly side-stepped, the latter backtracking away.
"I don't understand," Jago shook his head. "What do you mean?"
"You're the nutjob that attacked me at that shitty temple in Tibet!"
"Temple in Tibet? I don't know what-" Jago suddenly froze, his eyes widening as he gave a look of shock. "...Y-You?"
"Remember me now, dickhead?" Cinder challenged.
The air became still as both fighters stood staring at one another, the flames of Cinder's body flaring like an uncontrolled wildfire threatening to spread, the cage filling with flickering embers and smoke.
Finally, Jago spoke.
"...I remember you."
Claire watched the two fighters as they stood still in the cage, the stillness of them unnerving and tense.
"...I remember you," Jago began, a dark look forming on his face, his voice uncharacteristically low, almost threatening. "You had attacked five of my fellow brethren within my Order back in 2013, after you were caught stealing sacred relics and scrolls at night."
Claire's mouth parted in shock, her eyes widening as she looked over to Cinder, startled by the revelation.
The Tibetan monk clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. "My brothers and I had to be hospitalized for some weeks. I had sworn an oath to the Tiger Spirit that one day I would meet our attacker again, and that I would reclaim our stolen property. And now, here we are, reunited once more."
Claire watched as Jago fearlessly braved Cinder's approaching and wrathful form, no longer making any attempts at blocking away the burning embers.
Stopping two feet away from his opponent, Cinder's red orbs turned into harsh, angry, glowing squints.
"So," Jago said in a steady and low voice, "it was Ultratech that hired you. I'm guessing as thanks for your services they made you into this."
Cinder said nothing, his orbs burning with fury.
"...I have to admit," Jago said slowly, "...I had thought of hurting you." The admission made Claire hesitate, startling the girl as she watched the exchange unfold before her. "For a long time, I had thought about nothing except for finding the person responsible for hurting us and paying him back for all of the pain that he had caused."
For a brief moment, Jago's eyes brightly shined with a strange light, but it was so quick and fleeting that Claire couldn't help wondering if such a thing had even occurred at all.
For several seconds, the two fighters stood before one another, both tense and ready to spring into action in a moment's notice, ready to resume in their conflict.
Eventually, Jago's eyes softened, losing their harsh glare. "But...seeing you in this state now..." Closing his eyes, Jago shook his head slowly, "I never would have imagined anything like this. I can see it in your eyes. The pain. The sorrow. The aching loneliness."
As each word was uttered, Claire watched as Cinder's eyes slowly lost their edge, the fire being unusually quiet, listening intently to the monk's words.
"You are undoubtedly a very skilled warrior, and I commend you for being a worthy foe. Your abilities are impressive. And yet, it would seem that you do not view this power that you wield as a gift."
Cinder snarled. "'Gift'. Is that what you call it? Being turned into a perpetually walking, talking and burning sun against your own will is a gift?! Hate to break it to you, pal, but there's nothing pleasant about feeling like I'm either constantly being roasted alive or not feeling anything at all! You think I like being locked away in a cell?! You think I like not being able to eat?! You think I like not being able to touch anything without setting it on fire?!"
Turning away, Cinder struck the cage wall in rage, the metal ringing with a loud clang that echoed, startling the other creatures nearby in their containers.
Leaning against the wall, Cinder stood with his fiery back exposed to Jago, staring down to the floor.
"...I didn't ask for this," he said in a low voice. "Believe it or not, I didn't ask to be made into a freak. I had a life and a face before I became this. Yeah, I admit, I was a bad dude, but I had no say in any of this. I didn't ask to be made this way."
"Technically you did, Benny," Dieter called, drawing both of their attention. "It's not my fault you ran your mouth off to the wrong guy, bud."
"Fuck you, Dieter!" Cinder snapped, violently whipping around and pointing. "I should have gutted you the first moment you met with me, you pig-fucker!"
Dieter cackled. "OOOH!"
Claire watched as Jago looked back to him.
"Why do you fight for them?" he asked, drawing Cinder's attention back to him. "If you hate Ultratech so much, why fight for them at all?"
The fire effigy let out an indignant huff, the sound distorted.
"Because they're the only ones who can keep my condition in check and keep me from going nuclear, if not supernova," he muttered, .
A cold chill ran through Claire as watched as Jago's eyes widened. "Your condition is that lethal?"
Cinder said nothing, leaning against the wall without saying a word.
Beside her, Claire watched as T.J. squirmed.
"So," the latter said slowly, "...does that mean he's radioactive or somethin'?"
Claire swallowed. "I hope not." She then uncertainly looked over at Dieter. "Is he?"
The bodyguard waved. "Nah. It's fine. Kinda. I wouldn't recommend standing next to him or hugging him, but aside from that, radiation isn't an issue."
Letting her shoulders drop, a sigh escaped Claire's lips, the girl feeling relieved.
Granted, she was still in a bad situation already, but the possibility of getting cancer or radiation sickness wasn't something that she was too keen on getting, especially from someone who had been one of her favorite fighters.
Looking back to the arena, Claire found herself watching as Jago remained completely still, staring at his opponent's burning figure, his eyes filled with sympathy, understanding and pity.
"...I'm sorry about your condition," Jago softly said. "I cannot even begin to imagine the sheer depths of horror and torment that Ultratech has inflicted upon you, Cinder, and that saddens me greatly, me tru ba."
Lifting his head, Cinder gave him a puzzled and annoyed look. "What did you call me?"
"Me tru ba. It means 'fire possessor'."
The fire effigy grunted.
"...I want to thank you," Jago spoke, drawing puzzled looks from both the crowd, Claire, T.J. and Cinder especially.
Turning around to face him, Cinder furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Huh? For what?"
"For having me as your opponent. Though you have erred against both myself and my Order, you have given me perspective on my own errors of thinking, if not allowed me to confront my anger. You have put me on the path of righteousness, and for that, I thank and forgive you, my friend."
Cinder stared speechless, his flames losing their harsh flare as they slowly reduced in intensity, looking as if he were at a loss.
"You...You forgive me?"
Jago nodded. "I do. As angry I might have been at the time...I would never have wished this upon you. I never would have wished for your suffering. Not ever."
In a gesture that caught everyone off-guard, Jago placed his fist into the palm of his hand and bowed.
"Thank you, Cinder, for illuminating the path forward for me. I don't know how I can help you with your condition, but I do now understand why you attack me. I am not your enemy, Cinder, nor should we be such. Your employer has a lot to answer for, and I intend on making sure that they will be held accountable for everything that they've done. Will you be my friend, me tru ba?"
Claire watched as Cinder silently stared, completely bemused by the whole situation, when a loud clapping nearby drew their attention over to Dieter, the bodyguard giving a mocking applause and smile.
"Ohh, bravo!" He sneered. "Do you hear that, Benny? He wants to be your friend! Your pal! Your bosom buddy!" He and the other guards mockingly laughed, the former looking to the latter, thumbing in the arena's direction. "Do you believe this shit, fellas? What a shithead! What a pair of grade-A shitheads these both are!"
Claire narrowed her eyes, clenching her jaw. "Shut up."
The teenager let out a shriek as Dieter slapped her across the face, the girl falling.
"Claire!" T.J. cried out in alarm, the boxer kneeling down and picking her up, baring his teeth at Dieter. "Son of a bitch!"
Groaning, Claire winced as she tasted copper, the girl putting her hands to lip.
"Oh dear! It looks like I cut your lower lip," Dieter said with faux concern, his mouth curling into an ugly smirk. "Want me to kiss it better?"
Giving him a harsh glare, Claire spat at him, the girl shrieking as he landed a kick into her stomach, clutching her stomach, feeling all the wind knocked out of her.
"You fucking bastard!" T.J. yelled, drawing back his arm, only to falter as Dieter raised his weapon, a large Magnum, alongside the other guards and androids, their weapons aimed directly at the boxer, prompting him to halt.
Letting out a dark chuckle, Dieter puffed smoke into T.J.'s face, causing him to cough, the bodyguard's eyes eerily and wickedly lit.
"Stay outta this, T.J.," Dieter warned. Without even turning, he addressed the others. "Keep him your sights, boys. If he so much as even breathes, waste him."
Looking away, he then turned his attention over to Claire, the girl groaning as she clutched her stomach. "Does that hurt?"
Claire winced. "Yes."
Dieter then gave an ugly sneer. "Good," he replied. "Now, far be it for me to ever hit a woman, but...sometimes, a person needs a good smack or two to knock some sense into them, you know? A good punch or kick to get them with the program."
Letting out a groan, Claire felt Dieter's stare as he stood over her, the brim of his fedora covering his eyes.
"It's your fault, really," he shrugged. "The trouble with a lot of you young folk is that you're all perpetually feeding off the digital tit of social media, TikTok, YouTube, Twitter and whatever the fuck, and because of that, retardation seems to be a growing common trait found amongst your generation. So when a dumbass like you starts to get out of line, a guy like me is obligated to educate you so that you have a better appreciation of your situation."
He leaned forward, his voice low, almost a whisper as he spoke, "Let me spell it out to you in simple baby English so that you can understand: You. Aren't. Special. Neither of you are. You're just two useless fucking nobodies. If it wasn't for my good will, you'd either be dead or offered up to the creatures...and those are the more pleasant fates I'd offer compared to most fellas. I know of a variety of guys who would do awful, unspeakable things to people like you. Some guys I know in Mexico for instance would you just cut you up and dump your remains off the side of the road like garbage after taking your organs. Hell, I know of some Iranians who would pay a pretty penny for a pretty girl like you. And some of the Russians I've met? Oof!"
Claire paled at the threat, the girl feeling sick.
"How is it possible for the Baron to be friends with such a loathsome slug such as you?!" She spat.
Dieter humorously chuckled. "Well, what can I say? I'm a guy who gets around and who knows how to play his cards right. If Konrad only knew even half of the shit that I get up to." His eyes narrowed. "The point is, Claire, is that it wouldn't be hard to get rid of you. People disappear all the time around the world, by the millions especially. It happens every day, so nobody is gonna notice if one day you were just...suddenly...gone."
Clenching her jaw, Claire bared her teeth. "You're wrong! My brother is with S.T.A.R.S.-"
"Yeah, yeah," Dieter waved dismissively. "You told me that same song-and-dance number before, but guess what? It doesn't matter. You got people? Well, I got people too. Powerful people. All it takes is a whisper in the right ear, and anything can happen. Maybe your brother suffers an unfortunate accident. Maybe something happens to the whole S.T.A.R.S. team that completely demolishes their credibility. Maybe something will happen that will end up resulting in their all getting arrested. Maybe the RPD will get an anonymous tip about your brother's...indiscretions."
Swallowing, Claire glared at him. "What...what indiscretions?"
Dieter smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know."
For several long seconds, Claire stared at him, her heart thudding in her ears.
"...You're a monster."
Tossing his head back with a laugh, Dieter gave her a dismissive wave. "No, not really - I'm just as human as you are. Only difference is that I got more experience under my belt, kid. If you're lucky, you could be like me one day. I doubt you would, but, you never know. Anything can happen." Dropping his smile, his eyes became darkly focused. "The reality, Claire, is that you are alone. Nobody will miss you. Nobody will come for you. And if this keeps up, you will end up dying alone. So smart the fuck up."
Looking over to the arena, Dieter straightened his tie. "Now, speaking of smarting the fuck up, if you faggots are done fondling each other's balls in there, we got a fight to run! So Benny, do us all a favor and kick this guy's ass already!"
Claire watched as Cinder exchanged looks with Jago, the fire effigy shaking his head.
"No."
Dieter blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"I said no, Dieter."
The bodyguard frowned. "Oh for fuck's sakes," he groaned, giving him an exasperated look. "Benny, we're not doing this shit right now. So quit being a little bitch and-"
"SIR!" A guard shouted, a loud crash filling the air. "ONE OF THE CREATURES HAS GOTTEN LOOSE!"
Claire watched as the chamber was thrown into chaos, the crowd dispersing in various directions, the angry howls of the cages' various occupant mixing together to produce an unholy racket.
Something heavy crashed to the floor, either a crate, a camera or android, Claire knew not which.
One guard let out a yell as he was thrown into a crate, a second cartwheeling through the air, as if struck by something heavy.
Something like acid struck the face of an android, causing it to melt as it discharged its weaponry before crumbling to the floor.
Looking frantically around, Claire watched the crowd fleeing in various different directions, only to see a charging, gaping serpentine maw lined with viperous fangs and huge claws lunging toward her.
Knocked down, Claire let out a loud shriek as she caught a pair of manacled wrists, the girl writhing and screaming in different directions as she frantically avoided hungry snapping jaws.
"CLAIRE!" T.J. screamed. "GET THE FUCK OFF HER, YOU UGLY-LOOKING BITCH!"
Letting out a startled cry, Claire watched as her attacker stumbled off of her, allowing her to crawl away and turn around, the girl hesitating at what she saw.
Shaking its head, R.I.P..T.O.R. rose to its full height as it partially turned toward him, its intimidating seven-foot form easily dwarfing T.J.'s.
Slitted green eyes glimmered from a snake-like head, its eyes gleaming with animalistic cunning and an unmistakable look of intelligence, the creature sizing him up.
Nearby, Dieter urgently waved at the cameramen. "Come on, you idiots! Focus the cameras on them! We're in for one hell of a show, gents, and I don't intend on missing this!"
Claire moved toward T.J., prompting the latter to raise up a hand.
"No," T.J. spoke, his eyes focused on Riptor. "Stay out of this one, kid - this one's mine."
Looking nervously at the two, Claire pleadingly called out to him, "T.J.-"
"Go. I've got this."
Looking worriedly at T.J., she then looked over Jago and Cinder, the girl feeling helpless as she watched R.I.P.T.O.R. turned directly toward the boxer, its long, scorpion-like tail looming threateningly over its back.
Cracking his knuckles, T.J. got into a boxer's pose, raising his fists.
"Looks like you and I speak the same language, fella," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. "You think you got what it takes to beat the champ?!" He delivered a series of vicious jabs to the air, bouncing on his heels before waving his opponent on. "Come on! Let's rumble!"
Rearing back its head, Riptor let out a deafening roar in challenge, its mouth stretched all the way open to reveal its enormous twin fangs, its slitted green eyes focused on its adversary.
Man and beast stood before one another for the first time in open confrontation, watched on all sides by the human and inhuman spectators of the chamber as the battle unraveled before them.
While a few of the former watched with bated breath the outcome of this fateful meeting, the latter rattled and shrieked from their cages, gnashing tooth and claw as they sought to claw their way out.
Author's Notes: Shout-out to Egyptianmaus, LunarAquarius and Stuff3 for their immense help and support - thank you so much guys! I really appreciate it! :D