"Hold still."

The scent of nicotine was heavy in his breath. Every time he'd exhale, I'd catch a faceful of it, and my body just couldn't help but recoil from the smell, causing him to breathe out even more out of pure frustration.

"Dude," He said, taking a step back from me, allowing me that short much-needed reprieve of fresh air. "I can't treat your face if you keep squirming. Hold still, would you? Dumbass…"

"My bad, smelled something bad," I said, then smiled at him despite the throbbing. "You can keep going now."

He rolled his eyes, stepping forward once more with a damp piece of cotton raised, and lightly resumed dabbing it from one cheek to the other.

Staff-man came through again. Seems he wasn't only good for answering questions crankily, he was also fully capable of administering first-aid just as grumpily too.

After my match, shit hit the fan real quick. So many happenings, so much uproar, occurring all simultaneously, I had a hard time keeping track of it all myself.

Of course, it goes without saying that Bob was immediately branded a traitor to the nation of the highest decree and was promptly whisked off by the guards to the deepest, darkest dungeon in the land, shunned and despised by the whole of society, left to rot in his own shame and sins forevermore.

Which was the medieval-age equivalent of saying he got boo-ed all the way out of the convention hall, kicked hard to the concrete curb of the modern world. As for his brother, that Wizard judge and host… well he was impeached, stripped of his position for the crimes of sabotage and shameless nepotism… it was an entire scandalous affair so grand and long-winded, I couldn't be fucked to get privy with the exact details.

Wouldn't be surprised if it made the headlines of a small obscure news site or whatever.

As far as I was concerned, the culprit responsible for my no-good, very bad time in the tournament has been caught and apprehended, and according to the whispers floating about… I was the surprise hero that defied the odds and prevailed in the end.

Speaking of rumors, there were murmurs among the staff that the next match and the tournament in its entirety were to be canceled. The ultimate fallout to such an earth-shattering event.

Alas, those small talks were debunked as quickly as they had surfaced. As Tyler, the recently appointed replacement host, so eloquently put it - the show must go on, and so on it went.

Leon's match. The most-anticipated, the most-awaited, the main spectacle to overshadow all others before… and I wasn't even present to see it play out.

"Just a bit more, dude, just a bit more," said staff-man, his lips slightly parted open in concentration, permeating a steady flow of cancer breath that threatened to suffocate me to death. "Supposed to be scrubbing pain off the streets, 'stead I'm over here cleaning your cheeks. Should ask for a raise, treating injuries was not in the job requirements…"

When I left the arena, I thought I was to return back to the stands and await the next fight, but then I was halted by a bunch of staff people who led me to someplace secluded, some sort of behind-the-scenes staff area filled with spare parts, broken parts, and every other part alike.

So yeah, long story short - this was where I was recuperating this whole time, away from the public eye, only able to keep up to speed with the current ongoings in the ring by the distant echoes of Tyler's play-by-play.

And from what I've heard so far… Leon wasn't even breaking a sweat, whereas his opponent was pushing himself to the breaking point.

"Okay, that's you done," Staffman proclaimed, clasping shut the first-aid box down by his feet. "Don't think you'll bruise, but it'll ache for a while. I recommend not using your lips for the time being. As for your arm… well, I'm no doctor… but you're surprisingly resilient. No swelling, no nothing."

"That's good to know," I replied.

"If you want it to stay that way, then I'd also recommend you forfeit your next match," He continued, tucking a lighted cigarette between his lips and blowing a clouded breath. "You won't have a chance in hell against Leon."

At that, I went against his recommendations, both of them, forming my lips into another smile. "I'm afraid that's not gonna happen."

"Whatever then, your choice, your funeral," He began to walk away, every step aloof and apathetic. "Stay right there by the way. Someone's coming to see you soon."

"Someone?" I turned to his narrow figure shrinking in the distance and yelled. "Who?"

He yelled back. "Fuck if I know."

And just like that, he's got me planting my ass back into my seat which was just a cardboard box filled with nuts and bolts. I wasn't sure how long exactly I was supposed to be waiting for, but I knew for certain that I wasn't going to be waiting for long.

From the sound of it, from the muffled reactions of the crowd, the faraway glee in Tyler's voice, the matchup between Leon and Cliff was drawing close to its decisive finish, with the victor already made brazenly apparent.

Listening and listening, until…

"Hey," spoke a soft, gentle whimsical voice from afar. I looked up, looked right to where the staff-man disappeared down the hallway, to find a sight, a costume, a woman, very much familiar. "So this is where they decided to stash you. Strange, I explicitly told them I wanted you to rest in the staff lounge, not sitting directly outside it."

Above the glamorous, mysterious furls of her robes, but right below the rim her pointy, crooked hat, was a friendly smile of the friendly Witch. A friendly face, for once. A nice change of pace.

"It's not all bad," I replied, shrugging. "The guy even gave me a box to sit on. By all accounts, he's a pretty great guy. Better than the ones I've been meeting as of late."

"Ahh, that Derrick… one of these days," She shook her head, yet her smile still stayed. "So anyway, first and foremost, how are you doing? Are you okay? Not too hurt, I hope?"

"Fine," I simply said. "So anyway, secondly and furthermore, what are you doing here? Don't you have a fight to be overseeing?"

"You're more important. We wouldn't be doing our jobs right if one of us didn't at least come to check up on you."

I chuckled, winced after. "Coming from one of the judges after what just happened, I'm not really filled with confidence here."

"Mmm, I don't blame you one bit. I still can't believe what just happened."

"I feel a little bad for you. Trying so hard to stamp out the rumors about rigging games, and then this happens. I don't think you guys will ever hear the end of it now."

"Ahh, it's whatever, really," She said, shrugging it off with a wave. "So long as I'm not the center of those rumors like last year, I couldn't really care any less."

"Good for you."

"What's important now is that we make things right for everyone," A few steps forward brought her front and center towards me, and she stared down at me with sincerity in her eyes. "Starting with you. On behalf of the judges, of the staff members, of everyone else involved, I apologize for the inconvenience we've caused you thus far."

I reared my head so far back, I nearly backed it against the wall. "Don't talk like that, please. You sound like a robot."

"I don't know how else I could have said it, I've never had to apologize to anyone before."

"And you won't have to just yet," I told her, staring right back up at her. "You had nothing to do with what has happened. It was all the Wizard guy, right?"

"Yes, but still - "

"Allowing Bob to break the rules, placing him back into the tournament, planting that modified sword, you didn't have anything to do with that, right?"

"Of course not, I just thought he was doing the first two solely for the spectacle," She immediately said. "But that still doesn't change - "

"Then save it, don't wanna hear it. That is unless you wanna make me feel bad about making an innocent girl profusely apologize to me then go ahead, feel free. I can take it."

This time, it was her turn to rear her head back, to pause at me briefly and stare. "You're strangely forgiving for someone put through so much…"

"Forgiving?" I gave her a bemused look. "Is that what I looked like back then in the ring to you? Look, don't worry yourself about it, Ms. Witch. Suffice it to say, Bob's face did most of the apologizing for you already… and according to the tingling in my fists, I'd say all's pretty much forgiven."