Entering The Ring - Part 2
#2 of Entering The Ring
The second part of seven. Things start to get a little interesting for Tyler and Dan.
The announcer called his name. Not his real name - that was a secret outside of the Arena. Not long after signing up, he had been relocated to another city where people wouldn't recognise him, he had been assigned the title Gladiator 22-Z-441, and he had received basic training and a series of training garments.
All of the Gladiators lived very basic lives - they ate healthy, protein rich foods, drank lots of water, exercised all morning and trained all afternoon. The compound was large, open plan and very well thought out - training spaces were open and the Gladiators themselves were encouraged to partake in sparring at all opportunities. Their uniform for the most part was a figure-hugging lycra singlet and maybe a t-shirt over it. Most new Gladiators felt awkward being so on show all the time, but eventually they got used to it. Considering how much exercising and training they did, it didn't make much sense to wear anything else - and after being there for so many weeks, Dan had become very attached to his.
Before Mark, his first roommate had been a 16-year-old kid, a timid rat called Steven. He'd joined to get away from his family - his older brothers used to bully him for being so short, so he decided he'd show them - completely forgetting that he'd be relocated away from his family. He made it to his third bout before he was beaten - which had surprised Dan.
Then he'd had a few other guys share his room in quick succession. They'd all been full of bravado and were exceptionally annoying - they seemed to prefer showing off in their singlets rather than practicing. Dan didn't seem to mind so much, as they were predictably only annoying for a short while before they had the shit knocked out of them in the ring - then they became someone else's problem.
Dan liked Mark, they'd become good friends, but they both knew that once they were eventually defeated, the likelihood that they'd ever see each other again was exceptionally slight. Because of this, they spoke very little to one another - but they trained together all the time - they forged a friendship that was about masculine physicality rather than histories and stories.
Dan stood up and readjusted his spandex singlet, pulling it out from under his package and doing a few stretches. He knew he didn't look amazing compared to the others, but he'd demonstrated his capability nine times previously.
The crowd started chanting.
"4-4-1! 4-4-1!"
It started out small a few weeks ago and quickly escalated; now people were stomping in the stalls and clapping their hands together. Dan blushed a little every time they did it - to them, he was entertainment, but they had no idea what these wins would mean to his family.
Mark was talking to the referee after his bout, a towel loose around his shoulders and a sweaty patch clearly marked out on the back of his tight gear. Dan smiled at him as he made the walk into the ring and Mark waved with a dangerous grin.
As Dan stood up after passing through the ropes, the crowd stood up and roared. He felt strangely awkward - as he did at the start of every fight, like he didn't really belong here. He visibly fidgeted.
Tyler melted inside and slumped in his chair. Everyone else was still on their feet, but he sat there and just looked at the bear. He drank in all the details, the low stature, the broad shoulders, and the ripple of muscle faintly beneath shimmering brown fur. His eyes lingered far too long on the curve of the bear's rump and the cupping of his generous sheath and balls. It was too tempting to fantasise about the contents and he had to shake himself loose from the mental image he'd started painting.
His challenger was a shifty looking rake of a lion, obviously a boxer that had decided to have a go at tackling the 'legendary 441'. This wouldn't go well; he was shuffling around his corner of the ring in his long nylon boxing shorts performing a few swipes of the air with his fists and Tyler looked like he would just get humiliated.
Gladiator 22-Z-441 looked on at his quarry with disbelief almost and the audience became quietly pensive as they waited for the referee to give the sign. Everyone slowly sat down in anticipation.
The black and white dressed mouse signalled to begin and without any warning whatsoever, the lion charged at 441 and leapt into the air with a loud roar. Tyler watched it unfold in slow motion, terrified that this scrap of a feline would take down his bear so quickly. The auditorium went eerily quiet.
The lion pushed the bear down hard on to the matting and he went down quickly, winded. The audience got to its feet in shock and watched on as the lion lay over the brown ursine and grinned slowly, grinding against him, pinning down his shoulders.
The first number was called. The audience inhaled where 441 could not. The lion grinned more and Tyler bubbled with fear and rage that this unworthy scrap would win his bear.
The second number was called. 441 was starting to get his breath back, but it wouldn't be enough, soon the third and final number would be on him and then this lion would take away his prize. Tyler started to feel tears on his cheeks.
Suddenly there was a sharp popping sound from high above the ring and a few sparks, everyone's attention shot upwards to see the light that had unexpectedly blown out. The lion was completely diverted for the split second the bear needed to wriggle his legs up around the Contender's waist, still a little lost for breath, but back in the fight. The bear pulled his weight around by his hips and pulled the lion over on to the mat beside him.
The crowd cheered this role reversal as 441 knelt beside the scrawny lion and took an arm and the opposite leg into his grasp and held him there. The lion struggled a few times as the count started, but was able to break free and get to his feet. He adjusted his shorts and snarled, the response from the Gladiator was a mildly amused smirk as he squatted a little, tugging the shiny red lycra out from his body to stop it pulling at his crotch.
Dan panted as he looked at the lion as they stalked in a circle. That had been too close for comfort and he certainly didn't want to be taken away by this guy. It had been a very uncomfortable two seconds being pressed underneath the wiry cat, and he had felt that his Contender for this evening had been slightly aroused by putting him down on the mat. Going back with this guy would be a very humiliating experience every day.
At this point, he was choosing his winner, and he wasn't going to be defeated tonight. There was enough money in the pot for his family to get themselves out from the bottom rung of poverty, so anything more would be a bonus. Dan wasn't going to give to this guy.
The lion tried a few more leaps and feints, but Dan never attacked, he liked them to wear themselves out a bit first. He wasn't a fast mover, but he could dodge like a pro, and each charge was passed off nicely and predictably until Dan caught the lion around his thigh in one pass and spun him down into the mat. The auditorium went nuts and he was just about able to hear the lion wheeze out. He stalked around his crumpled figure waiting for him to push himself up and once he did, he grabbed his wrist and contorted his arm behind his back, pulling it tightly, then used his other hand to push the lion back face down and started to kneel over his behind as the lion submitted to the springy floor of the ring.
Dan wasn't the dominant type, he was quite an impassive get-things-done sort, so each night he won, he felt ever so strange as the balance of power shifted into this phase. It really wasn't for him, and sometimes he just felt ready to give in to his Contender and let them take him home. Not tonight, this guy was not the sort of person he wanted to be owned by. But he didn't mind the idea of being owned, when he thought about it, and that troubled him a little.
Tyler stood up and cheered with the crowd as the bear pinned his Contender on to the mat and the count spiralled upwards to three. The referee stepped in and raised his hand up high, declaring him undefeated! There was a sudden relief that he would, in an agonising fortnight of waiting, see the handsome bear another time.
The cheering turned to stomping and jeering as the boxing lion was escorted from the ring and 22-Z-441 just stared at the crowd, as bewildered as usual. And then it was just him and the bear, the background faded away as he made eye contact with his idol and nervously looked away, flicking his eyes back, but the contact had been broken. The Gladiator was looking elsewhere.
Tyler was stood up still, not moving, people were passing around him and heading towards exits, he was fixated on his target, and it was there again, eye contact as he was climbing out from the ropes. He smiled instinctively; the bear gave him a confused look and sheepishly smiled back before heading down the steps. The tiger's heart stopped for a split second and he sat down, exhilarated by being noticed - he knew that at the back of his mind the brown-furred idol would forget about him quickly, but he had one thing.
Time escaped him as he mentally drifted, he watched the Gladiators that had survived another fortnight be escorted out through their fortified entrance, the crowds milling and shuffling out of another two exits and one more where the Gladiators that had been defeated were escorted out towards processing, led on leashes.
He sat and watched the lights shut down over the ring; the cleaners come in to clear away the mess and detritus left behind by the few thousand people who had cheered on his handsome bear.
"You're still here; the matches ended almost an hour ago," The referee had sat down next to him.
Tyler blinked and looked with confusion at the small mouse at his left, "It did? Sorry, I don't know what..." He took his phone from his pocket and checked the time on it. Nearly midnight.
"Don't worry about it, I know why you're here. I know why you try to get a front row seat every time, I see more than you think up there." The little mouse smiled sweetly, he looked far younger in person than when he was up announcing and directing the matches. "You're here for 22-Z-441."
"How did you-?"
"You don't pay any attention to the other matches. You're in your own little world until he comes into the ring and then you stare." Tyler sheepishly looked down at his feet.
"Yeah," He tried to muster other words, but they wouldn't come, he had been trapped by this accusation and every word of it was true, "I keep coming back for more, but I know one day someone will win him,"
"You're addicted, you come hoping he'll win each time, but you know that someday he'll be taken away. What will you do then?"
Tyler looked the mouse in the eyes and frowned, "I... I'm not sure..."
"Well, there's only one way to stop that from happening, win him for yourself," The referee was grinning, "But that's not going to be cheap, you'll have to pay five hundred and twelve thousand shillings to have a go - not a lot of folk have that kind of money! He's gonna get picked up by a strong sugar daddy now."
Tyler sat quietly and nodded, the ref got up and patted his shoulder, "Try not to take it too hard, kiddo, they all get won eventually, sometimes they're just waiting for the right sort of guy to give in to..."
As the referee sauntered away, black and white shirt casually hauled over one shoulder, Tyler called out to him, "Where do I sign up?"
The mouse stopped dead in his tracks and turned on a heel slowly, the tiger was stood now staring him down, hands balled into fists, "I can afford it, how to I sign up? I want to Contend for 22-Z-441."