Chapter 16: 5.2 Fight Night

  Red steps into a dressing room. A series of lockers line one wall, a contrast to the other near featureless ones. In the center of the room is a wide bench with a padded top that can double as a medical bed should a fighter need to lie down.
Waiting on her is a lean man wearing a vest, slacks and a bowler.

  Red nods as she removes her cloak. There is a set of wall hooks mounted next to the lockers, and she hangs her cloak next to a jump rope. “Hey, Emeric. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

  “Not long enough if you ask me,” says Emeric with a French accent. “Are you sure about this, girl?” His words are meant to be patronizing, but his short stubble does nothing to cover the concern on his face.

  After removing her cloak, Red’s torso looks mummified by the scarf wrapping to conceal her upper body. It wraps in a cross pattern over her chest and upper back. Her hands are covered in a similar fashion by the hand wraps.

  “Help me with this,” she says gesturing to the hand wraps.

  Emeric scoffs and walks over. “You are too difficult! I ever tell you this?” He undoes her hand wrap and begins winding it again, tighter.

  “Yeah, I get that more than I probably should.” The wrap cinches and pulls Red’s arm. “Ow, easy. Don’t need you damaging the goods.”

  “You think maybe they are right?”

  “Well of course not, Em. There’s what everyone else thinks, and then there’s what I know—and I know that I need to do this.”

  Emeric cuts his eyes up to her with a smirk as he finishes tying her other hand. “I have for you some shorts. They are just there on the bench. We want to keep your lady bits off display, no?”

  She snatches them off the separate bench by the lockers, then cuts a glance back at him.

  He coughs and raises his hands in surrender as he turns around. He looks down to his shoulder as she shimmies into the shorts. “I am guessing black with red trim will be acceptable?” He turns back around to find the wide-banded shorts overlapping her torso wrap.

  Red nods. “They’ll do just fine. Thanks, Em.”

  Emeric points behind her. “Eh, you can put all your things in a locker. They lock by your handprint and resist both tampering and magic. Also, there can be no outside weapons, so your gear will be safe until you eh—how do you say, have them again?”

  “Retrieve, and that’s great,” Red says with a nod. She grabs her cloak, katana, and skirt, then secures them in the locker. “How long until I’m up?”

  “Any time now. They already passed you over for the last fight, so if you miss another call, no more calls will follow.”

  She shuts the locker door, watching a green light turn to red. “I’m ready,” she says, turning back to Emeric.

  “Oh, no,” he says, walking back to her. “This will not work.” He takes the tail of her scarf from draping over her shoulder and proceeds to tighten it around her torso.

  Red taps the side of her ribs. “I’ve still gotta move and breathe, so you’ll have to secure it over my lower ribs.”

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  He finishes wrapping her ribs, then weaves the tail under the abdomen wrappings and into the side of her trunks. He backs up, then gives his nod of approval. “This is much improved.”

  She nods with him. “Good.”

  Emeric lays his hands on each of her shoulders and grips hard as her eyes meet his. “Are you sure about this? These guys will not go easy just because you are a girl.”

  Red hooks her grip over his forearms, returning a determined gaze. “I need to do this, Em. I have to make sure I’m not just a one-trick pony, only getting by because of my portal gimmick.”

  Emeric draws his lips into a line, then gives her a single shake and a nod. “You are very brave, but you need to have courage and brains. You cannot win all fights by charging at the front.”

  Red smiles. “You sound like someone else I know.”

  He grabs the nearby jump rope and passes it to her. “Here. You need to stay warmed up.” She takes it and begins working it at an easy pace. “Do not be surprised if they focus on you. As you will likely be smaller, they may think of you as an easy target. Also be aware of Big Rick. He is very strong and will be a problem if in your match. You will know him if you see him. He is over two-hundred centimeters of asshole.”

  Red smiles as a knock wraps on the door. Emeric moves to check, peeks out, then nods. “It is time to go,” he says turning back to Red.

  “Alright,” she says, hanging the rope back on a hook. “Know anything about my match?”

  Emeric pulls the door open and prompts her to go ahead. They step out into a hall with concrete floors and brick walls. A faint cheering can be heard in the distance. She looks back as he nods and pulls the door closed behind them.

  “It will be a King of the Hill. Multiple fighters on a medium sized platform. You have to knock everyone else off in order to win.”

  He gestures to a weapons rack to one side, and they stop for her to look them over. All the weapons seem to be training or competition type with none of them having lethal edges or points. She looks through the various clubs, staffs, and swords, but passes them up to grab two short sticks—batons.

  Emeric sees her choice and looks at her curiously. “Eh, are you sure you do not want the sword or maybe a staff for longer reach?”

  Red nods. “I’m sure.”

  He extends his open palm to a lit circle ahead of them. “Just take your position in the circle, and you will be transferred to the ring shortly. I wish you luck, girl. Be safe.”

  “Thanks, Em.”

 

  She travels down the hall until her surroundings turn a featureless black. The only thing visible is the lit circle ahead of her. She gets the sense that she has crossed into a grand open space and the roar of a crowd can be heard more clearly. She steps under a spotlight, taking her place in the circle, and waits.

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