Matchup
The interior of the arena was as depressingly gaudy as I remembered. I stood outside the mailed cage of the ring, a simple mask in hand to hide my identity. I always kept one convenient, just in case. Even if I had my usual costume, I wouldn’t be using it. Magneron didn’t fight cage matches, and I didn’t want my own face broadcast about the world. Truth be told, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out what I actually looked like, but the harder you made it, the less likely people were to connect the dots. A pair of glasses, a slouch, and you could be an entirely different person. Plausible deniability was truly a beautiful thing.
Arman stood nearby, towering over me, the flash of the stage lights refracting through his body.
“Best of luck,” the diamond man said.
“Sure,” I said, taking the mask begrudgingly and tying it on. Though I looked like Zorro with this damn thing on, it was better than nothing.
With another gleaming grin Arman turned and strode away, several big guys whose stony skin marked them as part of his crew moving in to back him up, escorting him out a side exit. No doubt to his private seats to watch the whole thing like some Roman emperor. Typical.
I turned back to the arena, the announcer standing in the middle of it, his hair spiked, a collar of magnifying speakers strapped around his neck and jaw to send his voice roaring over the shouts of the crowd. Not too many, this wasn’t a big ticket bout, but the seats were still filled enough to make it a very public display I was about to walk into.
“Sir,” Glacia said from behind me. “If you wish, we could quite easily depart here. None could stand in our way. I would ensure it.”
“Appreciated,” I said as I popped the joints in my hands, shaking them loose. “But I’ll be fine.”
“But sir, with all due respect, you don’t have your armour,” she observed. “And there are no weapons inside the arena.”
I actually laughed at that. “I’ll make do,” I said. “Besides, do you really think I got this far if I relied on armour alone? Here’s another tip,” I told her as Manotaur made his appearance on the opposite side of the ring, the crowd roaring with excitement as the bullman raised his arms, beckoning more cheers as if he were showering in them. “The more weapons and tricks you have, the better. Remember when I told you about how if a streeter comes at you, you put them down no matter what?”
“Yes, sir,” Glacia said, nodding.
“Well, if they think all you’ve got going is ice powers, they won’t be prepared for you to shove a knife in their guts.”
“Very true, sir,” Glacia said, scribbling that down in her notebook.
“I can’t believe you’re really fighting for me,” Psyren giggled, clapping her hands in excitement, her eyes once more glowing with hearts. “Are you going to carve my name in his skin when you beat him, boss? Make them all know what’ll happen if they mess with your girl?”
“Such foolishness,” Glacia scoffed, glancing up from her notebook and at Psyren. “Sir does not need to carve your name in his foe.”
“Right,” I said.
“It would be far more effective if he strung up his opponent’s corpse on a telephone poll and kept the head as a trophy,” Glacia finished with alarming confidence.
“Uh,” I said.
Psyren gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Really?” she said, and ye gods, the hearts in her eyes were so bright she was competing with the stage lights for illumination. “You’d do that for me, boss?”
“Well… we’ll see,” I said awkwardly, listening to the shout of the announcer.
“And his opponent! A new face to the ring looking to make a name for himself, because he doesn’t have one yet! The Masked Mauler!”
Really? Masked Mauler? That was why you didn’t let other people choose your villain name. But oh well. There were no bad parts, just bad actors. I stepped up into the ring, waving to the crowd, knowing this was what they wanted. I got more than a few boos, but for a heel, that’s as good as cheers, if not better. And they’d have more to boo about soon.
I stepped into the middle of the ring, the hot glare of the stage lights blistered down on us, drones swooping low, cameras whirring from under the discus hover pads. Manotaur met me, his grin nearly reaching his horns as the announcer stepped up.
“Now shake hands, boys. I want a good, clean fight here. You got it?” the announcer said.
“Sure thing,” Manotaur said, squaring up against me.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, eying the bull-headed brute.
We shook hands, and I tried not to wince as Manotaur squeezed hard. Fucker. Well, if I had any doubts about showing him up, that put them to rest. Being a villain is one thing. Being petty another. He finally released my hand and I shook the ache from it as we stepped back, the announcer running out of the ring and turning about from the outside.
“And let’s Rrrrrrrrumble!” he roared.
There was a lot of metal around us, but none I cold use. The pillars hummed, throwing up a force field that made the chain-link cage mostly for show. But I didn’t intend to rip all those links out, even through I could. That would give away the game too early, and I had no intention of revealing my powers on a stage like this.
Manotaur seemed confident at any rate, strutting before me, arms open wide.
“Take a look,” he said, grinning widely. “No more cheap tricks from you. I ain’t got no metal on me now!”
It was true. He’d shown surprising foresight by ditching the boots he wore and going barefoot, and he’d also gotten rid of any rings, necklaces, and even his belt buckle. And that might have been enough, if we were in ancient Greece, where he probably would’ve had a whole mythic cycle written about his bully ass. But this was the modern era, and most people had metal in them. Not as much as the sixties when they still put lead in the gasoline, but enough for my purposes.
“You sure did,” I said as I focused my powers on him, feeling for the subtle vibration. Ah, there it was. I felt a smile grow. “Good job.”
His cocky grin faded a little, replaced with a glower. “You mocking me?”
“No no no,” I said as I increased my power’s grip on what I’d found. “I’m sure you took all the precautions you thought of. I’m very impressed.”
Manotaur sneered, lip curling, fists tightening at his sides as tossed his head like an enraged bull. “You think you’re a big man? I’m bigger than you!”
“Well, you know what they say about big things,” I said.
“This about my dick?”
“What?” I said. “No, I meant the harder they fall. Do you not have a big dick?” I asked.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” he bellowed, and charged me, horns down to skewer.
Well, that solved the baiting question. I waited until he was close, then grabbed his arm, turned, slammed my shoulder into his chest and, using his own momentum, hurled him over me and to the mat. He went flying, face comically shocked as his back slammed onto the arena floor so hard it shook the whole stage.
I was no martial arts protégé, nor did I train with reclusive buddhist monks in China. But as I told Glacia, the more weapons you have, the better. Too many heroes and villains leaned on their powers and only practiced those, neglecting other skills that might come in handy. Not me. I made it a point to work on my hand-to-hand combat, at least somewhat, and today it was paying dividends.
I backed up quickly, but I could have taken my time. It took Manotaur a second to figure out what had just happened, until the jeers of the crowd started filtering through. In a sudden rush he scrambled back to his feet, rounding on me, steam blowing from his flaring nostrils.
“You… you cheat!” he snapped.
Well, I hadn’t cheated, but I kind of doubted he’d be too inclined to hear out my point. “What? You expected a fair fight?” I said instead.
He bellowed again and came at me fast. But even if he had gotten rid of his metal, I still had mine. I gripped the metal in my clothes and pulled them towards the chain fencing behind me, my heels skidding across the floor. Manotaur howled and came on even faster. Attaboy. Just like that…
My back suddenly hit the cage that closed us in with a jangling rattle. I grabbed it as if shocked to find it there. Manotaur, sensing victory, roared and put on an extra burst of speed, horns down to put an end to me.
Perfect.
At the last second I gave myself a boost, repelling the metal in my shoes from the floor, sending me high into the air. Manotaur never had a chance to slow down and hit the chain-links hard, rebounding for a second before I landed on his shoulders and kicked him back into the mesh.
And then I had him.
As I bounced off his back and to the mat, I magnetized his metal fillings. Seemed someone had a sweet tooth back in the day, and if he’d splurged on pure silver or gold fillings, I’d have been in trouble. But even the more expensive kind always have some tin and copper mixed in, and his had plenty enough to pull them to the metal cage.
Manotaur’s face slammed against the fencing. He roared and tried to pull back, then howled in pain as he nearly yanked his jaw clean out, face slamming back into the mesh wall. To the crowd, it probably seemed like he got his horns tangled in the links, and just to be safe, I flicked my fingers, bending some of the metal and giving truth to their assumptions.
“How we feeling?” I said, walking up behind him.
“Ah’ll hill hyu!” Manotaur managed to say.
“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that,” I said. I looked to the announcer. “We done here?”
The man looked at Manotaur, who for damn sure wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, unless he was keen on ripping his jaw out of his mouth. The announcer cleared his throat and threw up a hand, his voice booming from the speaker collar.
“We have our winnnnnnaaaaaaar!” he bellowed, jumping back into the ring and lifting up my arm.
Boos and cheers rained down from every corner of the Rumble Ring as the crowd ate it up. I probably could have milked the fight a bit more, but I hadn’t come here to give them a show. Although, I suppose I ended up doing so anyway. With a final farewell wave I walked out of the entrance in the ring and off the stage.
No sooner had I emerged than Psyren threw herself onto me, kissing me full on the mouth. The shock of it was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Her lipstick tasted like cherries, and my hands instinctively wrapped around her, one hand on her rear, cupping it and lifting her up to meet my lips more forcefully.
She broke the kiss with a gasp, her eyes gleaming in excitement and desire. I could almost feel the lust radiation off her. Some of the stagehands actually could, and I noticed several literally drooling over her. “That was amazing!” the psychic gasped, practically grinding herself on me.
“The fight or the kiss?” I asked, quipping reflexively.
Psyren giggled. “Both. Guess this means you’re stuck with me, bossman,” she said with a flutter of her dark lashes.
“Guess so,” I said, giving her ass another squeeze, finding the idea a bit more appealing than I had earlier. And could anyone blame me? Psyren was a walking example of girls your parents told you to stay away from, but with the added ability to turn a man’s brains to mush not just with her body, but also her mind. And maybe it was the villain in me, but the danger of it had a certain sinful appeal.
“Eyyyy, that’s fantaaaaastic!” Steve cried, draping his arms over her and my shoulders, beaming at the two of us like a proud father who’d just made a match. “Victor. Victor! My man. My friend. I Can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Really, my man. I really, really do. You two are gonna make a real pair, eh? Eh?”
“Er, yeah,” I said, leaning a bit away from him, the smell of cigarettes and booze strong around him, as ever. “Sure. But, I won’t be able to start training her until I finish up this job with Glacia.”
“Sure. Suuuure. No problem,” Steve said, lifting his arms off us and shuffling back, finger pistols aimed our way. “That works fiiiine. Just fiiiiiine. I’ll bring your henchmen along no sweat too. We got this.”
Did we? I had to wonder. Things just kept getting more and more complicated. But, I supposed they couldn’t get worse.
And naturally, I should have known how badly I would be wrong.