In a rather common occurrence, the fate of the world rested on the outcome of a martial arts tournament. Hundreds of men and women, of all species, came to have a bit of a day out while mankind’s last hope (Jedidiah, who went by Jed) eventually battled against a villain who threatened to take over the world (Gavin, who went by the unfortunate name of Lord Dominatrix, having been somewhat sheltered in the quaint hills of Wales.) Of course, Jed had his capable friends—Terri, Collin, Dasher (no, he wasn’t a reindeer,) and Spanya. However, no one expected them to actually do anything but lose against each other or Lord Dominatrix or, if the script needed something dramatic, Jed.
As it was, no one paid any attention to Herc. He was the sort easily missed, a somewhat slim build compared to the ripped muscles of every other male else present, but certainly no slouch on the abs front, and bronzed by the Mediterranean sun and farm work. A handsome enough man, just not the sort of man that people turned up to these tournaments to ogle.
There was one other pertinent thing about him, but that can wait.
Now, it should be said that martial arts is a rather difficult affair. Not only does it require focus of body and mind and endless hours of practice, it requires clear and emphatic pronunciation, otherwise the mystical forces of the world do not, for example, cloak the hand in fire. This has been an unfortunate end for many a would-be martial artists who happened to have a speech impediment or a particularly thick accent—the mystical forces of the world fickle things.
With that out of the way, let us come to the tournament. The bracket, by chance, meant that Jed and Lord Dominatrix could only meet in the finals, and that Jed’s friends would eventually eliminate each other before coming to face Jed in the semi final—so long as they didn’t lose to anyone else. Apparently, the ratings had been down for the last tournament and they wanted to spice things up a bit. An unimportant character to the bracket fiddlers, Herc had, by chance, ended up on this side as well.
The first round commenced and, to the surprise of no one, all the named characters progressed with ease. That was, except for one.
“Herc, is it?” Terri asked, a bit of a smirk on her lips. “First time?”
Across from her, Herc didn’t react at all and kept looking at the referee.
She clicked her tongue. “Fine, be like that. I don’t have breath to waste on you either.”
Once the announcers had finished announcing and the referee checked they were ready—Herc nodding his head—he held up his hand, and then swung it down like a flag.
Terri walked forwards in fashionable strides, as she said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
He didn’t respond, holding himself in a loose but stable posture, light on his feet, arms in front of him. She stopped in the middle of the ring. Taking a deep breath, she settled into her own stance. Slowly, he moved forwards, every step careful, balanced.
“Show me what you’ve got,” she said.
The distance between them barely out of arm’s reach, he stopped, his breath controlled.
“Well? I’m waiting, and I don’t like being made to—”
She didn’t get to finish as he darted forward, keeping his upper body level while swiping across with his foot. Her ankle buckled, knee twisted, balance lost and falling. He shifted his position, catching her weight and swinging it around himself, throwing her onto the mat with a heavy thud, her breath forced from her lungs.
The stands were silent, not that he could tell.
He moved back, returning to his original stance, while she slowly got to her feet. She took a couple of breaths, holding herself carefully, her eyes never leaving him, the ache inside her a constant beat. “What the hell was that?” she asked.
From the side, the referee loudly said, “Allowed. First point, red.”
She squeezed her hands into a fist, nails biting into her palm and the pain drowning out the chatter of the crowd. “Like hell I’m gonna let some no-name get away with that,” she said.
Relaxing her posture, she gathered the words in her throat, honing her concentration. Then, bringing up her fists, she leant forward into her weight and moved.
“Dragon’s rage!”
Harmless flames enveloped her right fist, giving it an unnatural heaviness as she drew it back. The crowd gasped, excited, some yelling her name. One step away from him, she launched her punch at his face.
He stepped to the side, turning himself around and grasping her arm as it went over his shoulder, tugging her forwards, upsetting her balance, and then throwing her again. She landed painfully on her shoulder, unused to this.
“Two points, red.”
She lay there, blinking away the whiteness in her vision, every breath now hurting her if she breathed in too deeply.
“Five… four… three…” the referee said.
Rolling onto her front, she tried to push herself up, but her arm felt dead from the fall.
“Two… one… zero. Three points, red. Match.”
She gave up, falling back to the ground, feeling like that was where she belonged right now. “I lost, to a no-name,” she muttered to herself. Then, a touch on her shoulder made her jump (as much as she could while on the floor.)
“ARE YOU O-KAY?” he softly said, every word careful and a little strange.
“What, now you’re talking to me?” she said.
She thought about complaining, but let him help her up. Her shoulder and arm still numb, she tried to rub some life into it, and failed.
“SORR-Y, DID I HURT YOU?” he softly asked.
“Don’t worry about it. I like a bit of pain,” she said. Unlike most men, she noticed he stared at her mouth as she spoke.
He brought his hands together then, and bowed deeply at the waist, before standing back up. “THANK YOU FOR THE MA-TCH,” he softly said.
This was all far too strange for her, and she’d seen some weird martial arts in her time. Shaking her head, she said, “Yeah, you too.”
He awkwardly smiled, and bowed his head again. Then, he followed as the referee led him off to the winner’s tent, leaving her alone on the mats.
“Well, this isn’t going to put to rest the complaints I’m just here for the sex appeal,” she muttered, picking up her jacket and walking off in the direction of the nearest pub open this time of day.
So ended the first round.
Submitted March 26, 2019 at 01:54AM by mialbowy https://ift.tt/2UX5BIz
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