It had been a few days since their bout, but Fang and Vincent were relaxing in a premium hot tub, just enjoying the feeling of relief. Both of their bodies still ached from their fight, but neither of them would trade that pain for anything.

“Man, this always hits the spot,” Vincent commented, the steam slightly obscuring his face.

Fang, whose face was covered by a wet rage, replied, “I gesh shoe whight.”

“I don’t think that was english.”

Fang righted themselves and removed the cloth. “I said ‘I guess you’re right’.”

“Oh gotcha—I’m sorry I don’t speak wet towel.”

Fang let a slight chuckle and set the rag on the ground. They stretched their arms in the air and let out a relieving sigh. “We’re almost there, Vincent.”

“Almost where?” Vincent asked, completely oblivious.

“To getting out of this place,” Fang replied, rolling their eyes.

Vincent splashed some water on his face and replied, “Why would we want to leave? We still got like 20 minutes left.”

With their eyes wide, all Fang could say was, “What?”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Vincent’s brain finally made the connection. “Ohhhhh,” he said, “you were talking about the Collider.”

Fang facepalmed. “How are you this dense?”

“Yo,” Vincent said, “it ain’t my fault; I just hate thinking while I’m relaxing.”

“Fair enough,” Fang conceded, “I could really benefit from getting to that point, too.”

“Damn right,” Vincent replied, handing Fang another steaming towel.

Fang took the towel, looked at it for a second, and just held it in their hands. They then grinned a bit and splashed a bit of water at Vincent.

“Dude, don’t start a fight you have no chance of winning,” Vincent smirked.

Putting their hands back in a defensive and surrenditory way, Fang said, “Oh, trust me, I’m well aware.” They then put their hands down, placing the towel on the ground. “I just wanted you to wake up a bit, because I want to talk about something that requires you to think.”

Vincent just looked at them with a super neutral expression. “This better be worth it, I paid good money for this time.”

“First,” Fang started to point out, “I didn’t think you were someone who cared about money. Second, I just wanted to make sure you’re ready to face off against her, again.”

Vincent’s expression shifted a bit. It was still more of a neutral expression, but unlike the annoyed face from before, there was a lot more seriousness buried within it. He then rested his elbow on the outside of the tub, leaning his head against his hand.

Looking down in the water at his own reflection, he said, “Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

“You think?” Fang prodded.

“No,” Vincent replied, his eyes moving up to meet Fang’s, “I know I’m ready.”

“Good. Have you thought about how you’re going to deal with your disadvantages?”

“Are you talking about…”

“The fact that you’re almost exclusively a melee fighter, and the fact that those are the fighters that she excels at pummeling the most.”

He took a quick sigh, but Vincent’s calm confidence continued to be broadcasted on his face. “I actually have thought about that. Ya know, the fact that she can slow me down and speed herself up is kinda unfair.”

“Tell me about it,” Fang agreed. They then took a drink of their beverage and continued their thought. “I don’t see how anyone can overcome that.”

Vincent’s mouth began to curl into a bit of a smile. “I got an idea about that,” he slyly replied.

“Oh really?”

“But that’s a surprise for the arena.” He then stuck his tongue out in a very playful manner.

“Come on, don’t tease me like that. Give me a hint,” Fang half-begged.

“I don’t know,” Vincent taunted, his eyes wandering around the steam-covered room. “Ok, I can’t hold it in, I gotta say something.”

He then leaned in closer and began to softly speak. “Let’s just say that my plan involves going faster than what she can slow down.”

Fang just raised an eyebrow and didn’t say a word in reply.

“And the way I thought of it was—” But before Vincent could finish his excited rant, Fang put a hand up, silencing him.

“Hold on, my guy,” they said. “I think I’ve heard enough. I want you to surprise me in the arena.”

Vincent held his tongue, forcing himself to not continue his train of thought. Eventually, he responded, “Then you’re gonna be in for a helluva surprise.”

***

It was dark and quiet. Not a peaceful quiet, but rather, a tense one. She didn’t want to speak, she didn’t want anything to disturb the silence, but at the same time, something deep within her wanted the stillness to go away.

Marezi just sat on the edge of her bed and thought. It was rare for her to even do that anymore, especially before a fight. There was no point in thinking too deeply about anything, seeing as it would get her nowhere.

It’s just another fight, she told herself. He’s just some naive little shit.

Her head turned and made its way over towards the only window in her room. As her eyes peered through the foggy glass, she saw the painfully familiar sight that she sees every night: the Collider. Even at that height, looking down at the arena seemed so dull.

Before she knew it, she was already standing up, her hand pressed against the glass. Her head was empty, much like the feeling she got from looking at the rest of the lavish decorations and gifts that adorned her room. Those things didn’t matter—one way or another, she always found herself in front of that window.

She thought about the past and what led her to where she was. It had been so long since those thoughts had even crossed her mind. She wondered why now, of all times, did they decide to surface. Even memories of her mothers started to creep in.

The moment she felt the slightest bit of moisture in her eyes, she tried to push those images aside. However, they wouldn’t go away. They continued to run around in her mind. She could see their smiling faces, hear their lovely laughter, and smell the cheap, yet aromatic perfume they wore. She could even feel the last hug they gave her before they were ripped from her, taken away by that man.

There was no stopping the rain. Drops of water continued to fall to the ground, and even make their way down Marezi’s cheeks. How long has it been? she wondered.

She dropped her head down and sighed, her breath slightly clouding the window. As the fog began to disperse, the view of the arena took the shape of something familiar, yet foreign. Perhaps it was a trick of the mind or perhaps not, but either way, she saw the one thing that her parents would always tell her to keep in her heart.

For the first time in a long time, she saw a glimmer of hope.

Her mothers would always say that despite what society says, no matter what she looked like, no matter what she was born as, that she was strong. They would inject that hope into her, and it would light the way and allow her to endure all the hardships that she did.

But just as quickly as that old light appeared, it was snuffed out by the looming shadows of the past that towered over her, crowding her psyche. Her muscles ached, recalling the pain they were in as they worked day after day, for half the pay. Her stomach reeled, remembering the state of starvation she once felt. Her mind throbbed, feeling the emotional sting of the scars that countless people left, and society not batting an eye.

Within her memories, she could hear the desperate cries of her past self calling out for her to avert her eyes. She could hear the crunch of bones and the yells for mercy, as the echo of hollow coins reverberated in the empty space. She tried to cover her ears, but the sounds continued.

She then heard the sound of a deceitful lady, promising a way out. The words were too good to be true, but it was the only sound of hope she had heard in a long time. Marezi felt the blood that she spilled for that lady flow down her fists. She felt her soul leaving her body a dozen times over. She felt the cold chains of gold that bound her. She felt the binds of that lady, forever ensnaring her.

Finally, she heard the sound that broke her—she heard the voice of that lady laughing. She laughed about her fortune, her position, and about her invincibility. Most of all, Lucretia laughed about how she tricked her...how she lied to her.

As the memories faded away, she was thrust back into the present reality. She felt a searing pain on her wrist, and looking down, she saw that she was squeezing it. She quickly let it go, but the red marks continued to exist for a number of minutes.

The Lion, they call me, she mocked, wiping her tears. They got that right. I’m just a lion, trapped in this cage.