Fight Club
Shout out as always to @krillissue and @dastardlydandy for letting their little guys have a playdate with my little guy! Welcome to the second instalment of pure fan service (the fans being me and my two actual fans) oc bullshit. I had a great time writing this.
TW for violence as should be expected from something titles Fight Club
Beretta was smart, Beretta made good decisions. Beretta
was going to break that son of a bitch’s nose if he didn’t get away from their brother.
They weren’t being paranoid, it wasn’t an unhealthy paranoia. This time. “August” as he was now called couldn’t be trusted. Not by Beretta and not around Viper. Not around the one thing they managed to keep. It didn’t help that apparently that goddamn worm was hanging around too. Something to worry about later. Right now their concern was on the white haired man they shared a table with.
“So…Beretta? That’s an interesting name-” He’d been trying to make conversation for the past hour, regardless of the failures.
“Do you wanna fight?” They finally interrupted, putting him out of his misery.
“What?” He blinked, a little owlish.
“Fight, big man. Do you wanna have a go in the ring? I’ve been dying for a challenge and you seem like my first shot at one.” And they’d love a chance to show off just what they could do when they were trying.
Viper leaned in close to August, his whisper hardly that. “Say no. She’s insane.” His grin said he didn’t mean it. It still stuck a cord but they brushed it off to raise an eyebrow at August.
A challenge.
“I’m tellin’ you Jangles. She bites, might have rabies.” Viper chuckled, elbowing Beretta in the side until they grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Just enough to hold, not to hurt.
“I’ll show you rabies.” They bite at the air with a wicked grin.
“Sure. I guess we can go a round.” August cut in.
“Great! It’ll be fun. Some no holds barred fun.” Beretta’s grin turned its attention to August.
“Maybe a little holds barred?” He downed the rest of his drink and stood.
“Don’t be a buzzkill, Auggie.” They sniped back.
Paying their tab the three head down to where the fights were starting to die down. It was late in the night and most of the action was over. The ring was clear long enough for Beretta to jump down and claim it for the next fight.
They tossed their jacket up to Viper and made a show of cracking their knuckles. The look he gave them read clear, he didn’t think they’d win. Not without a pity throw. But he hadn’t seen Beretta fight and he couldn’t remember their track record for breaking sparring partners.They’d show him, they would show everyone. It had been a while since Beretta had someone think they were weak and they soaked in the feeling of being underestimated.
They clue back into the fight just in time to dodge out of the way of a fist. They duck under his arm and spin around, kicking him in the back of his knees.
He stumbles but doesn’t fall, whipping around and aiming another punch, Beretta lets it hit. It sends them stumbling back a few steps but it was a weak hit. He was definitely holding back.
“Don’t go easy on me, Nash. Ain’t fun if only one of us is trying.” They taunt, darting forward and putting their elbow in his gut.
It’s his turn to stumble, he may not be Eye anymore but he’s still strong. Stronger than he acts. “It’s not fun if I hurt my friend's sister either. I don’t wanna hear about how annoying it was putting you back together.”
“Boooo. Come on. Fight me!” They duck another punch. “Lazarus.”
The next punch connects and it hurts. It hurts and it's the best feeling in the world. Beretta grins with blood on their teeth and they know that despite the lost memories Lazarus had not lost his abilities.
The fight turns bloody after that. Beretta turns to tooth and nail to work around being outmatched in strength but they weren’t built to be muscle. The good doctor designed them better than that. But there was only so long they could outsmart someone like August Nash. And it was always a tricky thing to put down a man already dead.
They lose. It’s inevitable and Beretta is hauled up out of the ring on their opponents shoulder with a wild smile on their face and blood running from their nose. They would be bruised in a few hours, their nose broken, definitely confused from when they had hit the ground at some point.
It had been a damn good fight.
August dropped them in a chair next to Viper, he had kicked out the last medic for the sake of treating them himself. He had on a knowing little smile, what exactly he knew Beretta’s head hurt too much to figure it out but it was certainly something he was going to be smug about later.
“Told ya’. Rabies”
“Shut it, doc. I think I went a little too hard on her…” He nudged her back into sitting from where they had flopped against his shoulder.
“I c’n take it. C’mon, back in th’ ring big shot. I’ll show ya’.” They slurred, trying to stand only for August to push them gently back into their seat. For how he was treating them now you wouldn’t think he was the one that had done this to them. The thought made Beretta giggle to themselves.
Once bandages and ice had been applied August dismissed himself back to his graveyard for the night. Beretta watched him go with a sigh.
Viper’s grin was decidedly gloating. “You like him dont you.”
“Tolerate…he ain't half bad.”
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Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.
The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.
A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.
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