Chapter 3 — "Preshow"

📕👉 Read Chapter 2 Here

The Junior League was nothing more than a pre-show, hosted in the huge arena ring before the main showcases for the night began, while early guests were still finding their seats along the steeply slanted stands surrounding the ring. Most early birds were there to mingle with other wealthy attendees.

It was just for practice; many Ink Fighters came to the famous HHH to try their hand, and only the best made it to the Champions League. There were dozens of smaller leagues, most of them just exhibition fights or specialty matches between Ink Fighters of similar studies. But the best fighters started young, which meant they lasted longer—and that’s why the Junior League had started. It was for young fighters, not yet old enough to face adults, but eager to get into the ring.

The Junior League had a high turnover of Ink Fighters, most of whom quickly fell out of contention after their first injury. A few stayed, training under the greatest, waiting for their shot at the big time when they were old enough.

Junior used it as training, just like everyone else. Practicing in the training room under the stage was one thing, but the lights and the crowd were something different entirely. They were fuel to him—a rush he loved. His father wouldn’t be there; he didn’t watch any of the fights. Junior knew that joining the Junior League had caused tension between them, and even if they were on good terms, his father refused to set foot in the arena unless he had to.

“He’s just too weak,” Junior thought, making sure his pants were pulled up high enough, the red of his sigils popping nicely against his uniform of shorts and a loose shirt.

No, practically no one would be watching, but it was still practice, and that was always needed. Nothing could prepare you for the crowd and the heat of the karmastry-fueled lights. Anyone could win against anyone in the cage. It was more than just fighting; it was about regulating your emotions and adrenaline—you had to know how to use them.

Junior peeked out of the entrance tunnel, trying to find his mother in the crowd. The seats formed a huge circle around the caged ring, whose walls reached all the way to the ceiling. He watched the swell of hotel guests start to trickle in but couldn’t see past the bright stage lights well enough to make out any features.

Bone Biter brushed past him, shouldering him so hard that he nearly knocked him over.

“See you out there, Smoke Feet.”

Junior shot him a middle finger, but Bone Biter was already gone, circling around backstage to the other curtained entrance. The elemental fighter gave up scanning the crowd and began his mental preparation. He stretched his legs and pumped his fists back and forth, his fingerless gloves making a dull swooshing sound with each movement.

The lights in the seats didn’t dim for these small exhibition matches, and there were no ring girls, but the announcer still introduced them in a half-hearted manner.

“Ladies and gentlemen! For your entertainment as you make your way to your seats, the up-and-coming Junior League! Watch out for these young sprouts—they could be your next champions!”

The crowd barely paid any attention to the announcer, who continued over the speakers nonetheless.

“Our first fighter is a young, ferocious animal. Sharpen your teeth, it’s Boneeee Biter!”

Bone Biter burst from the curtain across the arena with a ferocious yell, jumping into the cage on all fours and running around it, trying to hype up the crowd, which seemed determined to ignore him.

“In the other corner is a son of legend, LOCKJAW. Fan those sparks, people; it’s the quick and fearless Fireeeeeefly!”

Junior became Firefly as he walked calmly out of the curtains, up the metal steps, and into the large cage. He pumped his fist up to a few scattered claps from the audience and made his way toward the center. Inside was a single referee, holding a whistle lazily between his teeth.  

“That’s my son! Let’s go, Firefly!”

A lone cheer rose from the stands. He spotted his mother standing with a cocktail in her hand, yelling from a slanted seat a little above the arena floor. She was with some other older showgirls, all wearing fake furs and drunkenly calling down to him to fight hard and make his mother proud. He smiled and waved to them in the nosebleeds as they continued their support.  

Behind him, the cage door was closed and locked.

“Alright, boys, come on in here and touch hands,” the ref called them together, and the two fighters came to the center of the ring to shake hands.

Even through his gloves, Firefly could feel Bone Biter’s hand gripping his too tightly, the excited shockwaves traveling from his friend's body to his.

“This may just be an exhibition, but there are always people watching, so do your best out there and have a vicious battle, okay?”

The ref pushed them away from each other to opposite sides of the ring.

“Ready to tango, fire loser?” Bone Biter snarled, already channeling energy into his sigils, causing fur to sprout from his chest.

Firefly didn’t respond, just bounced on his toes around the semi-springy arena cage floor. All around him, the tightly linked cage rose up like an inverted pyramid, flaring out into the ceiling and lights high above. A few more patrons had entered and were watching with mild interest as they waited for the main event to start.

Firefly felt time slow down; he was hyper-aware of everything around him. He sensed the vibrations from the patrons' footsteps shaking the arena, the hum of the karmastry lights, the fire simmering just inside his sigils, and the faint smell of smoke. The ref blew his whistle, and a small bell dinged, marking the start of the fight.

Immediately, Bone Biter launched himself on all fours across the cage towards Firefly, his upper body transforming with his sigils into that of a beast with long claws extending from his arms. Firefly remained still, his mind hypersensitive. He saw Bone Biter’s drool fly across the cage.

He tensed, allowing his opponent to get within centimeters of him before channeling energy into his own sigils. With a burst of fire, he sprang to the side. Everything snapped back to real-time, the intensity slamming into Firefly. The boost from his sigils allowed him to narrowly escape as Bone Biter crashed into the cage wall.

The impact made the side of the cage vibrate. Bone Biter absorbed the collision well, quickly redirecting his momentum back toward Firefly, his claws swiping through only air. Firefly waited until Bone Biter was close enough, then used small bursts of fire from his feet to leap out of the way at the last possible moment. To his credit, Bone Biter didn’t relent, continuing his assault while Firefly ducked and weaved around the cage, dodging left and right and ducking under Bone Biter’s furry arms.

“Come on, fight back!” Bone Biter yelled, spit flying onto the cage floor.

Firefly knew he couldn’t keep dodging forever, but his plan was starting to come together. Bone Biter hesitated for just a second, and Firefly took that as his cue to go on the offensive. When Bone Biter got too close, Firefly dodged to the side and summoned more energy into his sigils, releasing short bursts of fire, larger than before. The fireball nearly hit Bone Biter, who now had to leap out of the way.

Firefly went on the attack, standing in place and sending smoke and fire toward Bone Biter, who was now dodging along the outskirts of the cage. It was like a game of cat and mouse, and Firefly was being strategic. Bone Biter soon grew impatient and began circling closer.

Bone Biter took advantage of a lull in the elemental Ink Fighter’s attack to attempt a grapple, closing the distance between them in a single bound. He seized one of Firefly’s arms in an animal-like grip, slamming his other fist into Firefly’s stomach. Each punch made Firefly’s gut churn, and he struggled to wrench his arm free from Bone Biter while using his other hand to block the onslaught. His arm was getting scratched by Bone Biter’s thick claws.

In desperation, Firefly kicked up at Bone Biter’s head, managing to make his opponent halt his assault to block the fiery kick. Taking advantage, Firefly threw Bone Biter off and landed some punches of his own, but Bone Biter quickly scurried away, narrowly escaping a blast of fire from Firefly’s quick feet.

The audience was beginning to pay attention to the flashy use of sigils, shouting insults and support in equal measure. Elated by the crowd’s cheers, Bone Biter continued to pump energy into his draining sigils, darting in to throw attacks and then retreating at the threat of Firefly’s dangerous flames.

Bone Biter was quickly tiring; sweat was pouring off him onto the stage floor. He was overusing his sigils and risked a sigil malfunction if he continued to push them. None of that seemed to matter to him, and it only made him more reckless and dangerous. With a yell of frustration, Bone Biter feigned a move in one direction, then caught Firefly by surprise, leaping at him just as the elemental Ink Fighter lost his balance.

Firefly was caught off guard, but he wasn’t out of the fight yet. Pushing more energy into his sigils, he leapt high into the air in a burst of flames just before Bone Biter reached him, flipping through the air and coming down feet-first onto Bone Biter’s shoulders before leaping off toward the center of the ring.

Bone Biter crumpled under the impact, parts of his fur smoldering from the flaming attack, and dropped to his knees. A few spectators began taunting the winded Bone Biter, while cheers for Firefly started to ripple through the arena. More spectators trickled in, drawn by the commotion, yelling and pounding their feet and fists into the seats.

Caught off guard by the crowd now cheering for him, Firefly turned to them and threw his arms up, encouraging them to make some noise in his favor. The crowd rewarded his showmanship with cheers and applause.

“That’s my son! The hot one! Hahaha!” His mother yelled, leaning precariously over the seat in front of her. Others around her joined in, egging on the fighters.

Humiliated and angry, Bone Biter found his second wind. He gave his nearly exhausted sigils a final burst of energy before they dulled completely, then charged at Firefly from behind, tackling him and pinning him against the wall of the cage. Firefly could feel the pulsing tattoos wrapped around his body being pushed beyond their limits.

“Show’s over,” Bone Biter growled, squeezing tighter until Firefly felt the air being forcefully expelled from his lungs.

He had to get away from the wall, or he’d lose. Weakly, he struggled to bring his knees to his chest, pressing his feet flat against the cage.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll—” Bone Biter threatened.

Using all the strength left in his sigils, Firefly pushed off the wall, flames shooting out of the cage in a hot blue arc, sending both fighters flying backward. The crowd gasped in surprise, unable to ignore the huge burst of flames that shot up toward the lights, shattering one and sending a shower of sparks and glass down onto the fighters.

Bone Biter hit the ground hard, all the air leaving his lungs, his head cracking against the floor—instantly knocked out.

Firefly jumped off him, seeing the ref call for a knockout and declare him the victor. Filled with the adrenaline of battle, he bounced around the cage, flexing his muscles and shouting at the crowd, who cheered wildly, chanting his name. He climbed the cage and did a flip off it, using the last of his sigils to catch himself before landing on the mat. He was showboating, sure, but it felt good to win, and it felt even better to be watched.

__________________________________________________________________________

He was in the locker room.

He could hear Bone Biter muttering and cursing from the shower and was taking his time going in, knowing he would never hear the end of it from Bone. It was a common agreement among the Junior League to go easy on each other—no show-offs—but Junior had clearly broken that rule tonight with his flashy moves and unintentional knockout. He had dominated the fight, and even when Bone put in all his effort, he was far outmatched. Junior hadn’t even used all his sigils' power and could have gone longer; he wished the fight had lasted longer. The elemental Ink Fighter smiled, remembering the arc of blue fire he had produced.

“Conrad Jr.?” a voice called from the front door, startling the young Ink Fighter, who stood up quickly, surprised at the use of his full name.

His vision, still dotted with spots from the arena lights, took a moment to clear. He saw a man standing in the doorway—one of Mr. Hayden’s assistants, dressed in a signature white suit and sunglasses. Even in the dim locker room, the crystalline “H” on his lapel seemed to glow.

“That’s me,” Junior said, swallowing hard. He stood up straight and adjusted his shirt, removing the towel from around his neck.

“Come with me.”

Junior didn’t hesitate to follow. When the boss called, everyone answered. He followed the assistant silently to the private elevator, where they stood in silence, the soft music twinkling around them. It took several long minutes to reach the top of the tall hotel, but when they stepped out of the elevator toward the huge bronze and gold doors of the penthouse, it felt as if time had stopped.

The assistant, who seemed more like a bouncer than an aide, gestured for Junior to approach the doors first and indicated with a nod that he was to go in alone. Still sweating from his battle, Junior pushed open the penthouse door with surprising ease and found himself in a huge, dark room lit only by a few small, karmastry-infused blue lamps and the lights from the city below, streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“My boy! There he is!” Hayden swiveled in his chair, jumping up with the agility of someone much younger. He came around the desk to shake Junior’s hand with a grip like a large snake’s.

Junior had never been this close to Hayden Green and was struck by his wonderful-smelling cologne and the amount of gold in his teeth.

“So, you’re Lockjaw’s son, huh? The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree, especially after what I saw today. Wow, wow, wow, what a little fight! It was super cute!”

Hayden led him with his silver cane to a lounging area filled with rugs and luxurious leather chairs.

He sat Junior down with a little shove on his shoulders. The Ink Fighter felt odd sitting in such a plush chair while his feet were still smoldering from his previous fight. He tried to keep them off the plush rug. Hayden didn’t seem to mind and was busy making himself a drink from a cold cart near the wall.

“I’m a busy man, so let me cut to the chase, little… What do you call yourself? Firefly?”

“Yes, sir!” Junior sat up a little straighter.

“Well, Firefly, I see something in you. You showed real fire today, and I heard through the grapevine that you’re about to turn 16. Lucky you! I’ve taken an interest in your career, and I want to endorse you to join the Champions League. What do you say?”

Junior was taken aback and opened his mouth dumbly. Hayden noticed his shock and walked behind him, gesturing to the setting sun over Canis Major. The karmastry-spangled buildings sparkled like stars had fallen from the sky and settled onto the metal structures.

“Can you imagine it? Everyone in this city screaming your name. Just like they did tonight, but more! Thousands of them! You’d be a household name around here. Win fights and get whatever you want—money, a reserved table at any restaurant, cars, sigils at no cost.”

“Mr. Green, it’d be an honor…” Junior started, then hesitated, noticing something—a blink-and-you’d-miss-it smirk and a momentary coldness that quickly shifted back to warmth and excitement.

Hayden smiled, and Junior was reminded of the feeling he had in the ring—the same showmanship and adrenaline he only got there.

“You know, your dad and I were good friends until he went back on his promise with me,” Hayden said, coming around to sit in front of him. The light from the setting sun hit him from behind, casting him as nothing more than a shadow.

“You see, your dad was supposed to help me build my business, be my rockstar in the fights. But he started losing on purpose. He never really believed in himself. I would push him to be the best, but he didn’t want it badly enough. He didn’t have that champion’s persona. He was scared.” Hayden tutted into his drink.

“Your dad, he couldn’t handle the fame; he wasn’t tough enough. But I can see it in your eyes—you’d know what it takes to be a real champion. You’ve got ideas. You’ve got new blood.”

It felt like Hayden was reading his mind as he spoke. Junior could see, as clear as day, everything he had been wanting for so long: his ideas for the fight nights, themes he’d like to introduce, changing the game, having more exciting matches, more marketing for the Junior League, and so much more. He could feel the sigils in his legs, even drained of their karma, tingling and ready to be used.

Hayden tapped his cane on the ground knowingly. His fingers drummed over the fantastical eye that lay inside the clear glass.

“I see you smile; I can tell you get what I’m saying.”

Hayden stood, the halo of light fading and turning a beautiful purple with the sunset, bathing the room in a grape-colored glow.

“Sleep on it for a few days. Think about my proposal. I think we’d make a good team, and with my help, I know you’d be even greater than your father.”

Junior couldn’t speak; he was too excited. Opportunity was knocking at the door. Hayden shook his hand again and patted his back, guiding him to the door.

“Oh hey, kid, why don’t you watch one of the matches with me tonight in my box? I could use the company, and besides, I think you’ll recognize one of the fighters.”

“Of course, Mr. Green,” Junior said, feeling bold and seizing the opportunity to ride the wave of excitement. He felt his still-smoldering feet leaving burn marks as he walked.