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Location: A luxury cruise off the west coast of New Castor, sailing from Xiva.

Time: 2 day before the fight

The Secretary Bird, Rosemary, sat in her room, a cozy little room that overlooked the sea. It was a bit too small to place a piano in, but she did bring her violin, so she was happy to play some music. Playing a somber, slow tune, nodding along to the music all by herself. She never really liked this song, preferring to play something happier and upbeat, but right now she wanted to play something sad. Not that she was sad, she was actually in a good mood right now. But, at this moment, she was in the mood to play a sad song. But, soon, her concentration was broken, when she heard a knock on her door. She looked to the door, resuming her song. "Come."

The door opened and in walked a tall Horned Owl, his race marked heavily by age with one eye of gold and one white foggy eye, lost to age, staring over at her.

CEO of Ceiling Unlimited Weapons Manufacturer

Audwin "Checkmate" Marshall

Rosemary's Handler

"Keep playing, I like this song," he said, walking in with a limp, needing a cane to walk. He sat down, but not before he grabbed drink from the minibar. Just a gin and tonic, nothing special.

"I didn't intend on stopping, sir," Rosemary said, "Did you have something for me or is this just a visit?"

"Just a visit." He nodded, his tone friendly. "How are you enjoying your time in Primal? You're not one for conversation. I don't think we've talked one on one since we met. Something about it making you distant?"

"You speak as if I'm not happy with it. I actually am." She said, always straight and to the point with her words. "It is sanctioned violence. One on one sanctioned violence. Something I am use to. Not much different than an assassination. The difference being both sides consent to it."

"About that, Rosemary. You say assassination and you're an assassin..." Audwin said, leaning back in his chair, getting relaxed. "But you haven't killed a single one of your opponents, knock them out cleanly and efficiently, like an assassin, but I haven't seen you take a life yet. Tell me, fair lady, are you getting soft?"

Rosemary stopped playing suddenly, the violin making a hideous squeaking nose. Her black eyes stared at her Handler, finally looking him in his half blind eyes. "I kill when I am ordered to. There was naught any point of killing the previous opponents, nor did you ask me to. My apologies, but do you perhaps take me for a crazed killer who relishes in murder?"

"I don't." He scoffed, sipping his drink, before pouring himself another shot. "My goodness, it was a yes or no question."

"And I say: No, I haven't gotten soft." She said resuming her playing.

"Hm," He sipped his new drink. "Well, speaking of crazed killers who relish in murder: Tell me, are you interested in spectating a fight in a few days?"

"I go where I am asked." She nodded.

"I'll take that as a yes. The ship will be docking in New Castor tomorrow. It's said that the guy fighting in this one is an absolute psycho. You're Xivan, aren't you? I'm sure if you've watched your local news, you'd know about him."

"The Deathless on Deathrow." Rosemary said, knowing exactly who it was. "Pilotte Knox."

"That's the one! So you do know your stuff!"

"I will be there, with you." Rosemary put down her violin, putting it back in its case, along with its bow. Standing up, she strode over to the minifridge to get herself a drink as well. Some champagne sounded amazing. Looking at the bottle though, she inspected it, only to shake her head and set it back into the fridge.

"Hm? Don't like champagne?"

"I love champagne." She said, "But it requires very special treatment in order to fully be enjoyed. It is a very fickle drink." She explained, "Champagne should be chilled, but not ice cold. It loses a lot of its quality when it's too cold. You might as well drink spiked seltzer water at that point." So, she instead, got an ordinary bottle of carbonated water, before going back to her seat.

"Fascinating." Audwin said, putting his glass down. "You're a woman of many vibrant tastes, aren't you?"

"And you are a man of many perverse tastes." She said, sipping her own drink, her long legs crossed over one another. Audwin found it hard to take his one seeing eye off of them.

"Now now, there is no need for throwing around insults." He laughed, taking the remark in good humor.

"May I ask you the same question that you asked me?" Rosemary said, "How are you enjoying your time in Primal?"

Audwin raised a brow. It was a valid question and he was damn well ready to answer it. "I've known about it for the longest time, why would a man like me not know about it? To finally go from one of their spectators and financers to one of their Handlers? I've been in Heaven ever since. They weren't lying when they said that every night can be a feast and every day I can enjoy the finest liquors. You should cut loose now and again too, Rosemary. A woman like you must desire more than a few instruments and bottles of champagne."

"I'm good as is," She shook her head. "My apologies."

"How boring," He said, leaning forward, "Well, regardless, would at least love to see you dance again, do it for the other Handlers."

"I will do what is requested of me," She gave the vaguest of answers.

Finally giving up, knowing that she wasn't going to budge, he continued back on topic. "Well, regardless of what is requested, the ship will be docking first thing tomorrow. Make sure you are ready and don't oversleep." He said, getting up and walking for the door, leaving Rosemary to herself once more.

With not much else to do, Rosemary sipped her drink in silence, before picking up her violin and bow once more, continuing her song where she left off.

---

Location: A dockside warehouse in New Castor, a few miles away from Palegreen

Time: Day of the fight

Why did things feel like a march to war? Ethan was on edge, as the 4 of them walked towards the warehouse, the salty smell of the sea in their nostrils. There was another question on his mind, actually: Why did it feel like he was the only one who was this nervous, even if that was typical of him? It was expected of Eli and Pocketknife to not care, but Brook looked too confident of the situation, when she was hesitant about this just as much as him. Be still, heart, be still, Ethan repeated to himself, putting his hand to his chest.

"They said that Pilotte should be inside. He'll be restrained until the start of the fight, so it is safe to be around him." Ethan said, looking at his phone, while pointing over to the entrance with his free hand. The information was relayed to him by someone using the alias Ever Lethal.

"Will Kaya be with him?" Brook asked.

"Doesn't look like it. Weird, she is is Handler, why isn't she showing up to this one?"

"Sounds like she just wants to get rid of him." Brook laughed. She then approached Pocketknife and Eli, giving them both a hearty pat on the back. "Alright, have fun you two, and don't die, remember?"

"Don't worry, we won't die!" Eli grinned, already stripped down to his fighting shorts, ready to do some pre-fight workouts.

"Where is he!? Where's Piles?" Pocketknife said, dressed in his purple jacket and a pair of jeans. Not exactly fighting gear but there was no dress code to speak of here.

"You mean Pilotte?" Ethan asked, "I told you, he'll be over here soon." The four of them walked into the warehouse, through what they could assume was the worker's entrance. For a warehouse, it was remarkably empty. Boxes stacked high in a few places, a large forklift over in the corner, and a desk that had a few tools lying on it. Spacious with a few tools, or weapons, lying around. Perfect for an underground fighting arena.

But there, standing on one side of the warehouse, surrounded by 3 White Shirts, a Scarlet, and a Redliner, was Pilotte, the man of the hour. His picture on the app didn't do him justice. He was enormous, even though he was hunched over, he still stood over the Redliner, a female fox with a scar over her face, Beryl "Ever Lethal", who was quite tall herself. His prison uniform, something he still chose to wear, barely fit him, his muscle bulging against the fabric. He wore a muzzle, his hands were cuffed, shackles were placed on his feet, and a large collar was on his neck. Even then, Ethan felt an overwhelming sense of danger just being in the same room as him. His thick, lumbering tail not being tied down certainly didn't help.

Beryl stepped forward, running her finger along the scar on her face. "Well, got a full house. The broadcast drones are gonna be deployed soon, just got to get them set up; the tech boys and gals will do that. After all, most of the audience is gonna watch from a safe position; got a place outside, but the snobbiest of them are gonna be watching from their fancy limos, homes, or hotel rooms, not too many of them feel safe around this big lug here, the crybabies." She laughed, "If I had my way, I'd have bleachers set up in this room. Actually, scratch that, no seating arrangements, they'd have to stand. They're not the ones whose job it is to restrain either of the fighters in the event they start going on a rampage and attacking the audience. I guess I'm just old and cynical." She shrugged. Everyone else in the room stared at her, not caring too much about her ramblings, prompting her to sigh. "Well, anyways, I'm Beryl, by the way, I'll be the judge, referee, and guard of this fight."

"Hi Beryl." Brook, Ethan, Pocketknife, and Eli all said in unison. Pilotte's muffled voice could also vaguely be heard.

Pilotte looked around the room. Due to the multiple restraints on him, he walked with an awkward waddle. Steadily, he walked forward, across the room, towards his opponents. So these were the ones he was fighting? A young boy who looked like he was fresh out of high school? A guy who didn't look much older and looked like he was on the stupider side of things? Might as well send someone fresh out of the womb if they're going to send him someone so young. Pilotte's yellow eyes looked over to the other two. A meek looking bat whose only memorable detail was his pig like nose. He didn't look like he belonged here, more suited for selling concessions if Primal had those. But, then, he looked over to the girl of the group, his eyes widened. A bit older than the idiot coati, a bit younger than the meek bat. She dressed in such a provocative manner, even with her out of shape body and the nicotine stains on her fur. Pilotte could feel a rising temptation, looming over the girl.

"Uh," Brook, deeply uncomfortable, stepped back, noticing how close Pilotte was starting to get to her. For a moment his snout was almost touching hers.

Pilotte, his heart racing, then thought to himself: Maybe I could get away with just one bystander casualty? This girl, just looking at her, tempts me. Oh how easy it would be, how quick and easy it would be. How I want to put my hands on her small head and crush her skull.

"Hey, back off!" Pocketknife shouted, swinging an anger filled uppercut at Pilotte's chin. The Primal staff members in the room gasped. The punch landed with much resounding impact, causing the komodo dragon to step backwards, snapped out of his murder trance. Pocketknife had his hands up, ready to start, Eli stood beside him, similarly ready for combat. "Touch her and die!"

Brook nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. She was going to be seeing Pilotte's yellow glare every time she closed her eyes.

"Hey!" Beryl shouted, "I know you have your reasons, but no hitting each other until I give the go ahead, you're lucky I won't disqualify you for that. Besides, there is no reason to be afraid of Pilotte killing any audience members." She said, holding up a small remote control. "Thanks to this little device right here." She tapped the remote against the side of her head, a coy expression on her face. "This is the control to that little collar of his. All I gotta do is press this little button here," She said, pressing it, causing a beeping sound to come from the massive collar around Pilotte's neck. The komodo dragon's reaction was swifted, quickly he began to waddle back, away from the four, as quick as his restraints let him. Everyone watched with interest, their eyes focused on his collar; it looked like an ordinary metal collar, with its metal exterior disguising its malevolent true nature. "...And he behaves. If I press the second buttom, as tempting as that is right about now, well... His head goes boom like a dropped cherry pie."

"Is that a promise, Beryl," Ethan asked.

"Promise to what?" She responded, pressing the same button she did earlier, causing the beeping to stop, Pilotte calmed down.

"Promise that no bystanders will be harmed. My friend could've died there, I don't want her or anyone else to die."

"First off, I recommend you watch that mouth of yours, bat." She put the remote on a keychain on her hip. Her outfit was different than other Redliners; rather than the usual pants, she possessed a knee length dress. "Second, I promise, not because of any morals, but because that's my job, idiot." She looked to Eli and Pocketknife, her eyes singling them out. "Well, just keep in mind, I can only promise that no bystanders die. Can't make any promises the same for your little fighters here. You both look like you're hard to kill at least."

"Good enough for me." Ethan nodded.

"Yeah... Good enough for me." Brook nodded.

So, everyone began to file out. The warehouse didn't have a second floor but it did have a catwalk that overlooked everything. Looks like a small few of the audience members were going up there to watch. Not exactly the best of seating arrangements, but at least it was front row seats. Front row seats for the brave.

"Miss Rivers," Beryl said, going over to Brook.

"Hm?" She asked, looking to the fox.

"Might I suggest that you go outside? This warehouse is part of a large shipping district, we have several viewing areas over there. Pilotte looked like he took interest in you there, so I think this is the last place you want to be," she laughed.

"Oh, sure, thanks." She nodded, caught off guard by the sudden act of kindness.

"No problem. I have a son who's around your age. You remind me of him actually."

So, Brook headed to her own position, hoping Ethan would be following her. To her surprise, the back areas of the warehouse, the shipping district itself where the trucks and shipping containers were place, were full of people. It looked like a massive backyard party, with a table of food, a projector ready to broadcast the fight. Everyone was more casually dressed than she thought they would be. She still nervously walked in, feeling out of place. Everyone here probably made more money in a second than she had made in her entire life.

"Eh," one of them said, an otter leaning back in his chair, waving to Brook. He dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, not something she would've expected to see a rich person dress in. "Saw you got stared down by Pilotte there. You've got some major girl balls to not stare down a guy like that and not immediately piss yourself."

"Makings of a Primal fighter, you just don't have the body for it." His friend said, while waving her over. "Come here, sit with us. You're not from the same background, but as far as I'm concerned, when we're watching a fight, differences don't matter."

"Huh, thanks," Brook said, unsure whether to be offended or grateful, as she sat down; she at least let her get at ease, the smell of food, some sort of BBQ, helped. But, being the girl she was, she couldn't resist making a comment on what the guy said, "About that girl balls thing: I am a hyena after all, so I have something close to that."

"Huh," Both of the guys said, looking at each other. What did that mean? What made a hyena special?

Brook, even though she was poorer than them and less experienced than them, took pride in knowing she likely had a bigger dick than both of them.

Ethan, planned to follow Brook, until he was flagged down by someone else. A group of three, coming out of nowhere. Had they been waiting in the shadows for him?

They were an owl, a secretary bird, and a badger. All three of them dressed elegantly, but Ethan felt a sense of danger when looking at them. The owl, with his sharp suit, cane, and sinister appearance, seemed to take the role of leader among them.

"Ethan Callow?" The owl said, stepping forward, staring at him with his one good eye.

"That's me." Ethan nodded.

"Good, as the Handler for Eli, I felt like you deserve special treatment." He said, "I'm Audwin, the Handler for Rosemary here." He said, nudging Rosemary forward.

"Pleased to meet you, Ethan," Rosemary said, bowing slightly.

"Please to meet you too." he nodded, "But I'd like to spend this time with my friend, this'll be the first fight we'd watch together and I think she's waiting for me back there."

"It's rude to refuse an offer like this, kiddo." The badger said, smoking a cigarette. He was similar to Audwin in that he was clearly old, from another generation, although not as old as Audwin. "I did let you borrow Pocketknife for this fight, so you better show me some godsdamn respect. You got that?"

Leader of Illusory Gang

Iago "Survivor" Walsh

Pocketknife's Handler

"So guess I'm going with you guys anyways," He nodded, putting on a force smile.

"You act like we're going to murder you," Audwin laughed, "Hallmark clearly didn't choose you for your confidence."

Hallmark? So he knew him? Guess it was true that the guy was a very prominent person in Primal. Ethan nodded and went along with the three, the whole time, Rosemary stuck to the side of Ethan, towering over him with her long legs. All three of them possessed some aura of overwhelming power, but in different flavors, but Rosemary was especially different; something more elegant, beautiful, yet incredibly dangerous. Something completely enthralling.

Rosemary looked down at him. "Staring?" She said, raising a brow.

"Oh, no," he gasped, blushing. "You're just really tall." What type of excuse was that? Actually, why was he staring in the first place?

"Stare all you want," She said, "If it brings you happiness, I don't mind." She said, putting a claw under Ethan's snout, causing him to feel a powerful shudder down his spine.

"Ah... Okay..." He slowly nodded, continuing to stare.

Eventually being lead to a large limo on the side of the warehouse district. Shockingly, this wouldn't be the first time Ethan was in one. If he told his past self that he would be in a limosine twice in one year, he'd think that was a complete lie; he would then probably ask how time travel was possible and why this was the one thing that he went back in time to tell his past self.

"Here we are," Audwin said, snapping his fingers. Rosemary went over to open the door, but he shook his head. "No, not this time Rosemary. Ethan, open the door for everyone."

"Alright," Ethan said, not even complaining. It was a basic act that occurred day to day in his life, what was there to be ashamed of. Rich people were weird.

The inside of the limbo was similar to the one from before, but the inside felt more spacious. Designed for large groups and parties, and of course spectating fights. A bucket of ice with several bottles of champagnesat on a tablein the center of the vehicle. Audwin went over to the back of the vehicle, or rather the front, the seat closest to the driver's seat. Rosemary went over and sat next to him, while Iago went to the left side, groaning as his extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray in front of him.Not feeling too comfy with sitting near to many dangerous people, Ethan went with the seat across from Iago.

"The fight will be starting in a few minutes." Rosemary said, looking over to her Handler. "Shall I play you a song?"

"Not yet, Rosemary." He shook his head, "Let's wait for things to get good. We can't have eat seasonings when there is no meat."His half blind eyes looked at Ethan."I have high hopes for this fight, yes, but more than just that. I wanted to take this opportunity to get to know our new competition."

Ethan trembled in his seat. "I'm fucked." He thought to himself.