by Simon Archer
“But I welcomed the distraction, even enjoyed it.” Deity shot me a smile, seemingly unphased by my visible separation from her. “Enjoy the fight, Rico.”
Deity spun on her heel and jogged back to the kitchen. On her way through the swinging door, Herc threw his rag at her. Deity stuck her tongue out at him and then laughed as she swept through the door. The narrow doorway echoed her laughter through the east side of the bar, and I decided, right then, that it was my favorite sound in the world.
Next to the sound of the MLF melody of trumpets. Just then, they sounded again, signaling the first round of Warpin and Cranston’s matchup.
“In the blue corner,” Tenjer’s voice boomed, and the projection shifted to show the blue corner which looked more green in the light of the magical device. “Coming in at six foot four and two hundred ninety-three pounds, we have Cranston the Driver!”
The reptilian burst forth into the ring, his blue gloves penetrating the air like he’d already won. He leaned forward and engaged the crowd with a snarl, showing off two rows of pearly white incisors. That gesture was met with a series of whoops and hollers from the crowd. He maneuvered back to his corner and hopped back and forth between his wide, triangular feet.
“And in the red corner,” Tenjer proceeded with his announcement. The crowd, both in the arena and in the Blue Water Inn, stilled with anticipation. “Coming in at six foot seven and three hundred twenty-six pounds, we have Warpin the Relentless!”
The cheers for Warpin radiated through the room like a thunderstorm. The onlookers lost their minds as Warpin stoically stepped in between the ropes and into the ring. His grey skin looked rough, though, after a few rounds, it would be slick with sweat. He bore no emotion save for a rock hard stare that seemed to penetrate beyond Cranston like the reptilian wasn’t even there. Like the creature wasn’t worth his gaze.
“Warpin’s got this in the bag!” one of the halves shouted from their stolen corner of the bar. “I got twenty pecuns for anyone that says different!”
I scoffed under my breath. It was a stupid bet, and everyone knew it. Warpin’s chances were fourteen to one going into this match. Anyone who paid a lick of attention to the MFL knew he was set to knock Cranston down in three rounds or less. Twenty pecuns wasn’t worth that kind of foolish bet, even if I had twenty pecuns to spare.
“Hey, now, none of that here,” Herc said as he stomped over to the group. “If you want to bet money, do it at the stocks.”
“I’ll take that bet, son,” the solemn elf on the other end pipped up.
My jaw inadvertently popped open. The elf was crazy. That or too drunk to know what exactly he was betting on. Herc served some strong ale, but that man had to have been sitting there since dawn to be that inebriated.
“You deaf, sir?” Herc turned on the elf. “I said none of that in here. I don’t want no betting in my bar because betting leads to fighting, and you all need to save that for the ring, you hear?”
The elf gave Herc a shrug with one shoulder and took another sip of his drink. He proceeded to ignore the bartender and the group of halves across the way. He flipped his long white beard over his shoulder, as it threatened to dip into his tankard, then he took one more drink.
My attention shifted back to the projection as a bell dinged. Round One started with Cranston immediately bolting for Warpin and aiming to jab him directly in the jaw. Warpin recognized the recklessness and stepped out of the reptilian’s attack.
They danced around each other for a little bit, while Cranston shot jabs every so often towards Warpin. They circled around, bouncing on the tips of their toes as they inched closer towards one another. The crowd hollered their disapproval as nothing happened right off the bat.
I didn’t mind the slow beginning. It gave the competitors time to size one another up. After Cranston’s initial attack, he realized the foolishness of going after someone like Warpin so quickly. He immediately changed tactics, following Warpin’s lead of walking around one another. They judged footwork, searched for an opening, and waited for their moment.
The bar was silent as we watched these hunters circle one another. Each round only lasted three minutes, and right now, the competitors were winding down the clock as they assessed.
That’s when Warpin made a move to tap the top of Cranston’s glove with his own, giving the reptilian a chance to make a swipe below. While he stayed above the belt, Warpin only had to suck in his stomach to miss the glove. The half-giant kept his hands up towards his face with a crouch, whereas Cranston kept himself a little more open, preparing to strike.
The reptilian stepped forward and whacked Warpin with a side left hook, which the half-giant quickly countered with his own left hook. The crowd on the projection and in the bar let out a quiet “ooh” as the competitors stepped away from each other once again.
“Come on!” the half-elf called out. “Do something!”
“They’re taking their time,” I argued, shouting back.
“No one asked you,” the half replied harshly.
Just as the round ended, Warpin got a solid right hook in, managing to collide with Cranston’s face. I clapped in solidarity, knowing it had been a good round, though the halves at the corner of the bar weren’t too pleased with the lack of blood.
The next two rounds went similarly to the first. There were a couple of quick jabs here and there. Warpin had a great combination where he landed at least five punches on Cranston, but then the reptilian returned the favor with a wicked one-two combo that made the half-giant’s eye start to swell.
After they came back from their corners at the start of the fourth round, I knew this was the time for some magic. Warpin had landed only thirty-one punches, whereas Cranston was at forty-four. The odds were slowly turning away from my favorite fighter. Nevertheless, I knew the half-giant would pull out the stops this round. It was the halfway point in the match. Warpin had to get the upper hand now, or he wasn’t going to get it back from Cranston.
As the round started, Warpin crouched low, ducking to avoid the reptilian's classic left jabs before unleashing a flurry of blows on Cranston’s stomach. His opponent tried to wrap Warpin in a clinch which left him wide open, and the half-giant’s next series of punches knocked the reptilian into the ropes. Cranston was on the defensive, big time, and looked a little befuddled as Warpin rose up and punched him in the face.
We cheered as the triangular face of the lizard-like creature whipped to one side, spit flying beautifully. Warpin pulled back his right arm and landed an uppercut before Cranston had the chance to straighten out his vision. The reptilian stumbled backward as green blood trickled down from his snout.
“Get him, Warpin!” the halves shouted from their corner.
The announcers chanted the same thing. “He’s got him on the defensive. Cranston has to start landing more blows. It’s like he can’t see straight!”
The assessment was true because Cranston kept swinging at the air, connecting with nothing. Warpin easily dodged the clumsy blows, pushing forward as he increased the pressure on the reptilian. He forced his opponent into the ropes once again and trapped him there, with blows coming from either side. It was a massacre of the best kind.
“He’s gotta do it,” I whispered to myself. “It’s the only way out. Come on, Cranston, waste it! Waste it!”
Someone next to me must have caught on too because the bar crowd started to cheer, “Waste it! Waste it!”
It was the battle cry for when a fighter was put in a seemingly impossible situation. Their only option is to use their special move, but this early in the match, it could be detrimental to the rest of the rounds. It was a coin toss of a move, but boy, did the crowd want it right now.
As if he heard us, Cranston’s body started to glow. We released a cry of delight at the sight of the green light radiating from the reptilian. Warpin recognized what was happening and promptly stopped his attack. He took two steps back from Cranston, but by then, it was too late.
The reptilian’s chest burst forward, and a blinding, lime green light surged forward. It pierced through the projection, and everyone in the bar ducked down. We rubbed our eyes, waiting for the light to clear.
While our vision returned to normal, poor Warpin would be blinded for the rest of the round. He crouched low, holding his gloves over his eyes. The gesture blocked his face slightly, but it wasn’t enough to ward off the series of blows from Cranston.
The bell rang, saving the half-giant for the moment. I shook my head in dismay, the short break wasn’t going to be enough for Warpin to recover fully. If Cranston got in a couple of good blows, it would be lights out for Warpin.
I clenched my fists together and closed my eyes. I was not a real religious person, and Walden’s Worshipers were never my kin. However, I thought a small prayer to the god wouldn’t hurt.
“Walden, I don’t know how involved you are in the fights, but if you could bring home the win for Warpin, I could use the encouragement.” I glanced over, peeking through a squinted eye at the halves at the bar. They bit their fingernails, rubbed sweaty foreheads, and seemed to be saying their own prayers. “I think we all could use it,” I added.
Round five started, and predictably, Cranston came in hot. He pulled a violent uppercut that immediately rocked Warpin on his heels. The half-giant fell backward, and the whole room gasped.
The ref immediately ran over and started the countdown. We hushed into a shock silence as the numbers ticked upward.
“Get up,” the half-orc said in a sharp whisper. “Get up!”
“Get up!” Herc said as he pounded the bar.
“Get up.” I spoke the word into my fist as I raised it over my mouth.
On the eighth count, Warpin rose. I clenched my fist and grunted in celebration. The bar swirled with cheers and happy hollers. The image of the projection flickered, and even in the hazy green hologram, we all saw Warpin’s eyes transform red.
The half-giant activated his own special move.
I released a low whistle as the glow permeated the ring. We all knew that at that moment, Warpin’s vision transformed to x-ray. He could see right through the scales and muscles of Cranston, down to the bone. It allowed him to see and consequently assess the reptilian’s body. The extra ability, while not flashy, gave Warpin the advantage. He homed in on the weaknesses and exploited the ailing parts of his opponent.
And his eyes flashed red the entire time, making him utterly terrifying.
The half burst forth. The reptilian tried to catch the half-giant’s arms and pin him down, but Warpin wouldn’t let him. He brought his own massive arms up and roared as he charged for his opponent. Cranston pivoted and let a blow roll off his shoulder. Warpin threw a left hook that missed but then followed it up with a piercing right hook that connected against Cranston’s jaw.
The reptilian’s body collapsed into the ropes. He fell to one knee and then toppled back. His head bounced against the ground of the ring, and there was no recovering from that final knockout.
A violent roar erupted from the bar, complementing the shouts on the projection. Ale spilled over, hugs were shared, and high fives slapped about. I watched the celebration, keeping my happiness to myself. For a moment, amid the exhilaration and connection this live sport brought, I felt my muscles relax. It was quite amazing to witness the jubilation. My gaze shot up towards the ceiling with a side smirk.
“Thanks,” I said to the god, not sure he could hear me. “Thanks for this.”
5
The MFL South Lightweight title fight was scheduled to start right after the heavyweight one. Since I’d spent the whole first match standing in the back of the bar, my stomach growled and reminded me that I hadn’t had my daily dose of curly fries or a tankard of ale. I made my way to the bar and selected another seat, wishing I could sit closer to my usual spot but wanting to keep my distance from the halves who continued to cheer, even after Warpin’s victory.
I ordered my usual, and Herc put in the order. I caught a glimpse of Deity’s face and noted that she hadn’t come out of the kitchen at all during the first match. My disappointment stirred, but I tried to swallow it with the ale, knowing that she was busy. Deity was a working woman and didn’t have time to stop whatever she was doing to watch a fight, especially not when she was serving everyone else.
However, despite the fact that it was a lightweight title fight, which was considerably less popular than the heavyweights, most of the customers of the Blue Water Inn only were there for the first fight. For Warpin specifically, according to the chatter I heard as creatures made their way out. While the Warpin and Cranston match up had been cool and flashy, with big names and big moves, the lightweight fight was a title match. There were only eight total a year, and they were often legendary. They could make or break fighters’ careers and was often what they worked all season for.
I couldn’t understand people that only watched it for the big names. I was a fan through and through, watching everyone from the greats to the first-timers take a shot in the ring. It might have been because my chances of ever getting there myself dwindled by the day. I figured everyone who had the opportunity to fight deserved a proper audience.
Apparently, the elf seven stools down and I were the only ones interested in this match. Soon, we and the group of halves were the only ones left in the bar, and their continued rowdiness made it impossible to hear the projection.
Now, I could have easily just watched the fight. I knew what was happening with each uppercut, jab, and blow. I didn’t need Harvey and Tenjen’s play-by-play, but it was a part of the experience for me. Those two had been commentating on the fights for as long as I had been watching them, a perk of living longer than the average human, I guess. I wanted their jokes, their reactions to both of these female creatures fighting. Plus, I thought it was rather disrespectful in general.
So I decide to say something.
I waited for the round to finish, where Jorine clearly had the upper hand on Silp, considering both the halfling’s eyes were on the verge of swelling to the size of dumplings. While the fighters took sixty seconds to recover, I leaned over to the halves’ group and said my peace.
“Excuse me. Could you keep it down? There’s a title match going on that some of us are still trying to watch.”
I thought my request was reasonable and rather polite, especially in the face of such rudeness. However, something in the universe shifted, and suddenly, I began the target of their annoyance.
“Excuse me,” the half-elf mocked, “but no one gives a dragon’s ass about this lightweight fight, anyway.”
“I do,” I countered. “And, as this a public space, I would appreciate it if you adhered to a normal volume.”
The half-elf leaned over the bar, nearly laying his languid body across it so he could be inches from my face when he shouted. “We have as much right as you to be here!”
“I didn’t ask you to leave,” I said, trying and failing to keep my voice at an appropriate volume. “I asked you to be quiet.”
The other three halves, even the half-orc who had been kinder before, circled my stool. They surrounded me, one on each side and the half-demon behind. The half-elf swung his legs around so that he was now sitting on the bar itself. I gazed about for Herc, who’d picked a damn inconvenient time to be absent.
“We don’t seem to be bothering anyone in here,” the half-elf said, purposively raising his voice with each word.
“I just wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t the only ones in here,” I said, my own annoyance mounting. I had been completely reasonable, learning from earlier when I simply took the seat. None of this had gone as I foresaw, and now, I was missing more of the match I was fighting to watch.
“Hey, old male!” The half-elf flicked a peanut off one of the free containers down the bar towards the elf. The nut bounced off his shoulder, and he didn’t move. “Are we bothering you?”
The elf grunted and took another sip.
&
nbsp; “I don’t think we’re bothering him either,” the half-elf said back in my face. Then he straightened up and spoke to the now empty bar room. “Are we bothering anybody?”
In dramatic effect, he held up a hand to his ear and scanned about the room. Then he put a hand to his other pointed ear and scanned back the other way. When he was finished with his show, he dipped back down to me and shoved his nose against my cheek. It was as cold as an icicle, and I jerked away.
“We don’t seem to be bothering anybody. But. You,” the half-elf sneered.
“Fine, go on and be as loud as you want,” I said as I rubbed my cheek. “Just don’t touch me again.”
I relented and figured I could simply read about the fight in the paper tomorrow morning. I would stop off at Rebkah’s farm and see if I could borrow it. However, as my brain started to find an alternative solution after promptly deciding these jerks weren’t worth my time, the half jabbed his finger into my shoulder.
“Oops,” he said innocently.
In time with one another, the others proceeded to poke me, in each shoulder and then in my back, directly in the space between my shoulder blades. I clenched my muscles and pounded a fist on the bar.
“I’m telling you halves, you’re fine to go about your way and enjoy the bar. Just leave me be,” I insisted, my plea coming out like a bear’s growl.
“Or what?” The half-elf held out a finger threateningly.
I watched the elegant pointer finger with a clean nail and smooth golden skin reach out for me. The thought of being touched so harmlessly but so irritatingly pushed my patience past its limit. All I wanted was to watch the fight, and here these fools were, invading my space. Both the Blue Water Inn and my body.
Maybe tonight wasn’t about watching a fight. Maybe it was about starting one.
I cocked my elbow up and snatched the half-elf’s finger in my fist. I felt the knuckle crack as I squeezed, which harmonized nicely with his cry as I pushed the limb back towards his wrist. With my other hand, I whipped over and smacked the smug half in the face.
