He was breathing heavily and he knew that he was going to be in for a rough time when the adrenaline wore off. Still, Vincent embraced the energy of the moment. After all, he won...he did it.

While the crowd was still roaring, the sound of the announcer cut through it all. That being said, Vincent didn’t bother to listen to a dang thing that they were saying—he was busy trying to not faint from exhaustion.

After a few more seconds of standing tall, he decided to walk back to the door that brought him in. He knew that he needed to go back to his cell in order to privately collapse. He didn’t want the entirety of the Collider to see him fall down right after he stood at the peak above them all. If that were to happen, then the point of that fight would be lost.

When he made it to the door, he was surprised to find that they didn’t open for him. In a move of slight desperation, he started to knock on the door. What he didn’t think about was the fact that those doors were made up of about 10 inches of thick sandstone. There was no way anyone would hear him knocking through the noise of the arena.

Suddenly, he felt a tapping on his shoulder. He didn’t have the strength to snap his body around, but he did manage to slowly turn around. What he saw was a man dressed in sparkling blue attire. His vest was a shimmering aqua color and his pants mimicked that very color.

Another odd thing to note was the man’s ostentatiously pink hair. Vincent didn’t think too hard about the appearance of the man, especially seeing as every part of his body was on the verge of falling apart. Even so, he could tell that this person was someone that was not a fighter.

“Well, well, nice fight out there, rising star,” the man said with a bubbly tone. His voice was carried around the arena via the microphone in his hand.

Vincent quickly realized that the voice he heard was that of the announcer. He looked the announcer directly in the eyes and just stared at him.

“Ahem,” the announcer began to say, “anyways, I just wanted to congratulate you on that spectacular show.” His smile shined bright, but the stretch marks around his face showed just how forced it was.

“And?” Vincent questioned, his voice reflecting just how disinterested he was at the moment.

The announcer took a sharp inhale and then replied, “Well it seems like Lucretia was right with what she said…” He then snapped his head around towards the penthouse. “Like she always is,” he corrected.

Nervously, the announcer looked back at Vincent and smiled. “Well, anyways, seeing as you won, there is one thing now on everyone’s mind: What did her message mean to you?”

Vincent rested his hand on the door in an attempt to keep himself from falling over. “It means let me go,” he said.

There was a bit of an awkward pause before anyone said anything. A few murmurs circulated around the crowd. Although most were hushed and didn’t make too much noise.

With a nervous laugh, the announcer inquired “What do you mean?” He then laughed a bit. “Well, why don’t you explain yourself?”

Vincent, tired and restless, irritably insisted “No. It means let me go—I’m tired.”

Sweat was starting to form in little dots around the head and neck of the announcer. He pulled on his collar and with a wavering smile replied “Um, well, why don’t you go to the middle and give everyone a nice speech to rally their spirits around what The Lady was talking about?”

“No.”

The announcer leaned in closer, and just for a second, his fake personality cracked. “Lucretia really wants you to go do it,” he adamantly stated, although in a more hushed tone.

Vincent leaned in even closer and loudly proclaimed, “I don’t care.”

No one knew how to respond. The crowd whispered around their mixed feelings and the announcer just looked at Vincent with a death stare. The tense, yet still atmosphere kept everyone on edge as they waited for some kind of response. Eventually, one did come.

The door behind Vincent started to open and he had to catch himself, seeing as he was leaning against it. When he composed himself, he took one last glance up at the penthouse, and walked through the door, wordlessly.

The walk back was a struggle. With each step, he felt as though his legs were growing heavier. Every time his feet connected with the ground, it was a fight to convince them to leave the floor and push forwards again. Each time they would refuse, he would nearly topple over.

Eventually, he lost track of how long he had been walking through the winding corridors of cells. Each time he would pass an occupied one, the response he would get from the look of the inhabitants’ eyes would vary. Some would not pay him any mind, but others would have the slightest glimmer of life. There would even be those who would look at him, smile, and nod. That was much different than the complete look of disinterest that every person would give each other in the past.

At some point, Vincent managed to stagger his way to his cell, barely managing to open the door. The moment he entered, he collapsed on the floor and let the darkness take over his mind. He was ready for a peaceful sleep...for the first time since he had gotten here.

***

When his eyes opened, Vincent was greeted with a familiar darkness. Everything around him was covered in black, with the exception of himself.

He stood up and looked around, and after he gathered his bearings, he realized where he was. That being said, there was a slight difference from before—it was slightly colder. In addition, he could breathe much more easily than the last time.

And just like last time, appearing before him, was a familiar white silhouette of a person.

“Oh hey,” Vincent said, “you’re that, uh, all-to-meat-rack guy.”

The figure stood there and shook its head. “It’s Alltemaic, my dear Vincent,” they corrected.

“Oh, yeah yeah, my bad. Close enough.”

Alltemiac then walked a few paces to the side before coming to a stop. “It seems you’re doing much better than I thought you would be. And for that, I am very pleased.”

Vincent furrowed his brow and asked, “The hell does that mean?”

“Ah,” Alltemiac began, “I forgot we hadn’t talked much last time. I have been watching over you for longer than you know, and I wish to see you grow to your full potential.”

“But why? And where the hell are we? You never did tell me.”

“In due time.”

“Ughhhhhh,” Vincent groaned. “You’re one of those people.” He then took a seat on the ground and crossed one of his legs.

“You always were the impatient type.” They then walked over to Vincent and placed a finger on his forehead. “The first lesson will be about those emotions of yours.”

Knocking the hand aside, Vincent asked, with a bit of snip, “What about them?”

They retracted their hand and replied, “While they can be of great use, amping up your body for the physical stress of a situation, it does the opposite for your mind.”

“So?”

“Well, that, in turn, makes it very hard for you to use your powers. If you can’t keep your thoughts in order, if you can’t focus, or if you can’t control your emotions, you won’t be able to use your abilities to the fullest extent. I believe you actually encountered a situation like that.”

Vincent glanced to the side. “Well...yeah, but I mean…”

“Fortunately, for you, your power’s words seem to aid in that endeavor. So, consider yourself lucky.”

Vincent just looked at them. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You will, in due time.”

“Enough with that shit,” Vincent sighed, standing up. “Stop being all mysterious an’ shit—I hate that crap. Stop beating around the bush.”

“We can’t go too fast, you’ll learn—”

“In due time,” Vincent mocked.

“See? You’re learning already.”

Vincent didn’t say anything, he just rolled his eyes. With a sigh, he waved his hands, signaling for Alltemiac to continue what they were saying.

“The last thing I want to tell you, for now,” Alltemiac started, “is that there are many things in the future that will push you beyond your limits. Make sure that you face these challenges and grow from them.”

They then turned around and began to walk away from Vincent.

“You calling me a coward?” Vincent taunted. “Didn’t you see what I just did?”

“I did,” Alltemiac replied, turning their head around, “and I’ve seen what you can do.”

The world then began to grow brighter. A white light filled the room, its starting location imperceptible. The darkened black void that seemed to stretch in all directions was outlined by that light.

Just before it consumed everything, Vincent reached out his hand and yelled at Alltemiac, “Wait!”

***

Arm still extended, Vincent’s eyes once again opened. This time, the room he was in was not one made of complete darkness. The familiar stone ceiling was as plain as ever, but it looked much weaker and easier to break. The floor was cold and hard, but nothing compared to where he was.

He withdrew his hand and began to sit up. His head was ringing a bit, and his body still throbbed and ached with pain. Even so, he was surprised to find that he felt rather well. Injuries heal with time, headaches eventually go away, but the deeper feeling of being “ok” is not so simple.

As he looked around, he saw the surprised look of Fang Nola staring back at him. To the left of them was another figure that caught Vincent by surprise. Mimicking the face that he just saw Fang have on, Vincent called out to the figure.

“What are you…” he started to ask.

Eliot, frozen mid-stride, looked over with a slight smile. “Well, you screamed ‘wait’, so I stopped moving.”

Vincent, welling up with copious amounts of joy, sprang to his feet and rushed over to the stopped friend. He did not once pay attention to how much moving hurt. The pain was more than worth it if it meant he could give him a hug. And hug him he did.

Wrapping his bruised and cut arms around Eliot, Vincent lifted him in the air. “Man, I missed you.”

“I mished you too,” Eliot replied, his head smothered but Vincent’s chest.

Vincent eventually stopped spinning and let Eliot down. There were damp spots forming at the corners of Vincent’s eyes. A wide smile couldn’t help but form across his face, staying there despite the negative emotions that his physical pain brought him.

“What are you doing here?” Vincent enthusiastically asked. “Where have you been?”

Eliot chuckled a bit to himself. “I had to be alone for a while, but I’m glad to see you. Fang,” he motioned, “actually ran into me a few hours ago and we started talking.”

Vincent looked over at Fang. “You managed to find him and you didn’t wake me up?” There was a lightness to the question, a lightness that was much needed to contrast the dark room.

“Well,” Fang began, “I figured you needed your rest. And considering the fact that you slept for five or so hours, I’m willing to bet that I was right.”

“I slept for that long?” Vincent asked, surprised.

“Don’t act surprised,” Eliot remarked, “that’s nothing compared to how much you used to nap after school. Well, at least the few days you actually went to school,” Eliot laughed.

Vincent and Fang both laughed in response, Vincent much harder than Fang. Vincent held his stomach during the entire laughing fit, both because of how good it felt to laugh and because it physically hurt his ribs.

“Man,” Vincent said, finishing his laugh. A shot of remembrance then shot across his face. “Oh yeah, did you see my fight!? How cool did I look? What did you think?”

“Slow down, dude, you’re starting to sound like me,” Eliot teased. “But I would say—”

“It was a marvelous display,” a foreign voice intervened.

Everyone in the cell snapped their attention to the front of the cell, on the other side of the bars, where the voice originated from. Being illuminated by a lantern that was held by her personal guard, stood the Lady of the House. Standing as smug and arrogant as ever, now with a look of lustful interest, was Lucretia, herself.

The air immediately grew tense. Every fiber of every muscle in that cell was on alert. Conversation ceased and everyone’s mind focused on the opposing force that so casually stood by them.

“What? No ‘thank you’?” Lucretia playfully asked, licking her lips.

“Why would I ever thank you?” Vincent sternly responded.

“For all that I’ve done for you. For making you worth as much as you are.” Her hand slowly slid down one of the iron bars.

“You haven’t done shit,” Vincent retorted.

“Oh ho ho, you have no idea what goes on behind the scenes,” she elegantly responded, moving her hand back up the bar. “But here you are, my new champion.”

Eliot shrank a bit back into the cell, and Fang just glared at her.

Lucretia sighed. “So cold. My job is always so thankless,” she exaggerated, wiping her hand across her forehead, like a damsel in distress. That look then transitioned into one of complete confidence and control, while her hand then combed through her hair.

“What do you want?” Fang finally asked.

Lucretia, with the eyes of a stalking predator, glanced at Fang and then back at Vincent. “Once you get a sponsor, you’ll understand what a wonderful life you have that I’ve given you,” she replied, seemingly ignoring Fang. “Which reminds me—I’m excited to see who decides to sponsor you, although I doubt anyone could. My price is the highest it’s ever been for someone.” As she said that, staring at Vincent, she licked her lips.

“Flattered,” Vincent plainly remarked.

With a sharp inhale, Lucretia stated, “Besides, the very very few could even afford that price would not waste that much money on—”

But before she could finish, another guard quickly rushed up to her and whispered something in her ear.

“Hmm?” Lucretia asked, her playful demeanor immediately replaced with a serious one.

The guard whispered some more.

A look of slight surprise broke through her solid expression. “Already?” she asked.

The guard whispered even more.

“At my price!?” she questioned, her surprise coming through with the increase in her tonal volume.

The guard finished and stood there, expectantly. Lucretia looked back at Vincent and then back at the guard. She narrowed her eyes and leaned in close to that guard.

After a few seconds, she spoke. “Take me to him,” she demanded.

The guard quickly nodded and immediately took off down the corridor. Lucretia swiftly followed and motioned for her other guard to stay close behind her.

The immediate few minutes after she abruptly left were filled with nothing but silence. It was like her absence left behind a void, sucking up all the tension that was just there. Vincent just looked at his two friends, who in turn, just looked back at him.

This persisted for another 20 minutes or so, until a new sound finally filled that gap in the atmosphere. Casual footsteps, followed by multiple, heavier stomps could be heard echoing down the hallway.

Following those steps, a dim light started to fade its way into Vincent’s visual range. That light grew brighter and brighter, only stopping when the source of it arrived right in front of the cell. It obscured most of the figures that were in its vicinity, making them seem like mere shadows.

The one figure that stood out from the rest was one that was slightly smaller than the rest, but also skinnier. They approached the iron bars of the cell and finally spoke up.

“Ah, exactly what I ordered,” the lead figure said.

Their voice caused Vincent to lower his defenses a bit and recoil in familiarity.

The figure then laughed. “And boy do you guys look like shit.”