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The Champion By Cris Fireheart / Ken Anderson Chapter 19 � Fight Night Author's note: This story contains scenes of extreme violence, profanity, drug and alcohol use, sale, and abuse, and some sexual situations. Reader discretion is DEFINITELY advised. That being said, if none of that bothers you, then enjoy! As ever, any comments, criticism, watches and faves are well appreciated! --C ------Saturday Afternoon, One Week Later, the Clayton Estate------ �Four moves. That's all it took for the kit to lay that Neo-Nazi mutt Klaus flat on his German ass! Four fuckin' moves; I still can't believe it, and I was there to see that shit!� Jake shook his muzzle and let out a slight chuckle as he took a sip from the bottle of Sapporo beer gripped tightly between his claws. Sitting across from him on one of the antique, purple-velvet covered chairs in front of the fireplace, R�my simply shrugged his shoulders as he reached forward to ash his cigarette on the tray sitting near the center of the table. �Like I told all of you that day at the Casino, I'm a Silver; that means we don't lose when it comes to fights. But that's enough talking about that day. Shouldn't we all be busy getting ready to head over to Harbor City Stadium for Connor's first fight as the national Middleweight champ tonight?� �Regardless of how the Challenge at The Flush ended up happening, and while I will admit that watching the security footage of you putting that backstabbing Shepherd in his place was incredibly satisfying,You both still should've called me,� Marco grumbled, sighing in disappointment and sipping on his whiskey as he shook his head. �Breaking the arm and the jaw of a Canine Council member, especially if you're not a made soldier, normally results in a unanimous death sentence being issued by the Council. You're both lucky that Giancarlo was there to mediate; anybody else would've let you get killed on the casino floor for doing that.� �I guess we're all lucky that R�my is family now, aren't we?� Jake shrugged his shoulders and smirked. �Alright; I've heard enough outta both of you,� Lenny called from across the table, �Rick, Connor, and the Fenders are already at the stadium. The kit's right; we should be on our way.� �I concur,� came the smooth baritone of James' voice from behind them, the older man nodding slightly as he approached the den followed by Victor, the pair of them dressed in nearly-identical custom black suits. �So, who's supposed to be picking us up?� �A pair of wannabe college-fresh fish chosen from the apparently long-ass list of the new guys who've been trying to join up with Rick's crew lately,� Jake responded, before draining his beer and settling the bottle on the table. �He's testing em' out by havin' them drive a couple of cars for all of us. 'Let's see how they act around people who have real Power,' he said. Henry said he'd meet us out there, and the Tiger twins are working as Connor's personal security tonight. I swear; that Fox is gonna walk into the ring like he's fucking ballin' for this fight.� �Good,� James remarked with a nod of his head, before motioning towards the bottle of whiskey near the center of the table. Victor quickly slid around him, bending at the waist to retrieve it and fill up an empty glass which was set upon a bar near the table, before turning around to hand it to James. �There's a truckload of money riding on this fight, and it's not just OUR alliance that's placing bets tonight. We want our boy to bring his 'A' game tonight.� ------Harbor City Stadium, Fifteen minutes later...------ �You're sure you're ready for this?� The scratchy, smoke-stained voice of Jimmy Fender called out, as the older, gray-muzzled weasel continued to help Connor don and tie his boxing gloves. �We don't know too much about this cat, just what we've heard and seen of his fights; he's from up in Louisiana, somewhere. They say he's got a pretty hard right paw, but I'm pretty sure you already have a plan in place for that.� The red fox nodded his head and grunted in response, his fangs biting down harder on the rubber mouth-guard that had been shoved into his muzzle. �I got this,� he mumbled over the obtrusive object, �I've trained with Ricky, I've trained with Ted; I've even trained with you, old fuzz, and you're a fuckin' legend. Even though I can't use those kicks and holds that you both taught me, I've pretty sure I've got this in the fuckin' bag!� �Don't overestimate yourself,� came a calm voice, as the sound of expensive shoes clacking against the cement floor of the locker room caused all of those contained within to immediately go silent. �Respect your opponent; I'm pretty sure he respects you, as well.� James' smooth baritone came out delivered with a hint of comfort. �Trust in yourself; in your own skills and technique. You've been in the fight game for over three years, now. You're the national Middleweight Champion, for the Gods' sake! But don't let that go to your head, Connor. In fact... I want you to do everything you can in order to get into HIS.� Connor could say nothing as he simply nodded his head confidently in agreement, his fangs gripped tightly against his mouth guard as he watched as Marco, Ricky, Jake, and the Rhahs all filed into his locker room to offer him words of encouragement and prayers of luck. �It's your fuckin' night, Champ!� Jake howled, giving the Fox a hard smack on one shoulder. �This guy Ming may be pretty good, but you know that you're better, kit; we ALL do,� Jimmy Fender agreed with a nod. Marco took his time in approaching the Fox, nodding his head in approval as he gave him the once-over. �You go out there tonight...� he intoned, �...and you bring HONOR to this city, Connor. You go out there and you make us all proud...� �He's right,� Ricky nodded, as he moved in closer to give his mate a rib-crushing hug. �Remember how we trained for the last week; we've watched his fights; he favors his right, and keep an eye out for if he switches to Southpaw. When you go out there and step up to that Tiger, I want to see the Connor that I know can win. I want to see the Connor that I taught to protect himself against anyone and anything that might be put in front of him both inside and outside of a ring... I want to see MY Fox tonight...� --------Ten Minutes Later, Ringside--------- The Harbor City Stadium, as was the usual practice for an official fight night, was completely packed, from the floor seats to the rafters, with spectators who had arrived both locally, and from out of town. The large stadium's retractable roof had been slowly opened to reveal the orange-pink rays of the humid Harbor City sunset as the fans and detractors of both fighters all began to let out a deafening chorus of cheers and boos as they made their way to their assigned seats, carrying beers, popcorn and cups of other unidentifiable liquids. In the locker room, Connor, now left alone, took a moment to draw in a deep breath and calm his nerves. He knew that he was well-prepared for this fight, but as James had earlier reminded him, underestimating your opponent was a recipe for failure in the ring. And so he cleared his mind of all of his overconfident thoughts. Instead, he focused on a kind of internal, subconscious emptiness; a trick that Ricky had once taught him, that he'd used overseas in order to 'get ready' before going into combat. Once he felt that his mind was sufficiently empty, he stood up from the thin, wooden bench on which he'd been sitting, took a moment to stretch his legs and arms, before tugging his red, monogrammed robe over his shoulders and turning to make his way towards the exit. Mike and Ike, dressed from head to toe in matching black suits and sunglasses, gave him a simultaneous nod as he stepped out into the long, tunnel-like hallway which led towards the ring. Even from this distance, he could hear the din of the crowd, which caused a familiar smirk to form at one corner of his muzzle. 'It's time to have me some fun.' He thought to himself. �You guys ready for this?� he called towards the twins as they quickly took their positions at his sides. �We're as ready as you are, Sir,� Ike responded, earning a nod from his brother in return. �We're ready to see you lay this Bengal down on his orange-striped ass,� Mike sneered, offering Connor a nod as they approached the archway which led down towards the boxing ring. As Connor stepped out onto the concrete walkway leading down to the main floor of the stadium, he immediately threw his gloved paws into the air and let out a loud howl of pure elation and anticipation. In the background, the loud, bass-heavy sounds of 50 Cent's �I'll Whip Ya Head, Boy,� had begun to blast from the numerous speakers positioned around the numerous stands and seats in the stadium, pumping up the crowd, along with the fighters themselves, as he marched determinedly towards the ring, where his opponent, a tall, well-built Bengal Tiger was also making his approach, nodding in appreciation as he turned his orange-and-black striped head from one side to another in order to take in the size and emotion of the stadium and the crowd around him. As the two of them had their robes removed from their shoulders by their respective corner-men, they both slipped between the ropes, and took their positions at their opposite corners of the square. �You've got this, bro,� Came the voice of Ted Fender, who'd volunteered to be in Connor's corner during the fight. �Heh...� The Fox chuckled through his mouth guard. �I know that already, pup... Wanna bet on how many rounds it'll take for me to put the big guy down?� The younger weasel leaned in close to whisper as Connor shifted in his seat on the small stool which had been provided for him. �Two grand. Five rounds minimum.� �I'll call that bet, but I say four rounds or less,� Connor muttered in reply as Ted reached over with a bottle of water, and allowed the Fox to take a sip. As soon as his opponent was seated in his own corner, the announcer, a gray-furred Cougar wearing a suit that appeared to be worth more than a mid-sized house, slipped himself between the ropes, and made his way to the center of the ring, where a heavy microphone, attached to a long, thick cable, began to slowly lower from the ceiling, until he could take it into his paws. �Ladies and Gentlemen! Males and Females of all species! We are gathered here tonight to bear witness to the first-ever chance that our locally-born Middleweight Champion, Connor Oliver, has been given to defend his National title! Now, Connor, my man, the crowd already knows all about YOU,� A loud chorus of cheers from the locals filled the stadium as cups of beer were raised high and words of encouragement were shouted down into the ring. �But we have yet to introduce your opponent for tonight!� The announcer continued, unabated, pointing towards the Tiger sitting in his corner. �Ming Hun! A Bengal Tiger, originally hailing from the far East, he first immigrated to the United States during his cubhood, and has been working his way through many fights in the ring for the last five years as both an amateur and a professional boxer! And for your viewing pleasure tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, he gets a chance to go up against none other than Harbor City's best! Our very own National Middleweight Champion, Connor Oliver!� The crowd immediately erupted into a mixture of cheers and boos as the Tiger was introduced. Shaking his head sadly, Connor heaved a sigh,before rising up from his stool, and slowly making his way towards the announcer. Seeing the Fox approach, the Cougar stopped in mid-speech, and offered the microphone to Connor, which he quickly declined with a wave of his gloved paw and a shake of his head. Motioning towards his opponent, Ming Hun, he tilted his head, non-verbally calling for him to join him in the center of the ring. The tiger, looking confused, shared a few words with his corner-man in what sounded like a combination of Hindi and Indonesian, before waving away the obvious warning that the black-scaled Pangolin was giving him; rising to his own feet and giving Connor a single nod of his own, before walking to join him in the center of the ring. �Do you speak English?� The Fox asked him. �NO offense intended, but I'd just like to know that you can understand me.� �Of course,� Ming nodded, his slight eastern accent showing through. �English was the third language that I learned when I first arrived in the United States as a cub.� �Good,� Connor nodded, before turning to face the announcer and giving a slight jerk of his head. �Take off for a few seconds, will ya?� The cougar quickly obeyed, stepping aside with his microphone gripped in his paws as the two fighters stood toe-to-toe in the ring. �Look...� Connor began, �I'm not the kind of asshole who goes into a fight bragging about how he's going to win. When I fight, I'm fighting both my opponent and myself, not the crowd. Do you... understand what I mean when I say that?� �I do,� Ming replied with a nod. �Tonight, this fight is between you and I. No matter what they say about us; no matter how our corner-men will treat us, we will fight with honor until one of us can fight no more.� �Well said,� Connor nodded with his trademark smirk. �Now, let's head back to our corners. HEY! Announcer!� The Cougar was quickly back between them, microphone at the ready. �You can call it whenever you're ready,� Connor intoned, �We've said all we've had to say, and we're heading back to our individual corners now. We're ready.� �Yes, sir,� The feline nodded his head as he watched the two fighters turn their backs to him before heading to sit down on the stools in their opposite corners. -----Two Minutes Before The Bell----- Connor was seated on his stool, drawing in deep, calming breaths. Turning his head, he took the time to gaze around the stadium at the innumerable faces scattered among the crowd, quickly spotting his mate and his friends comfortably seated on chairs on the ringside floor, from where they could see the action occur up close. �Have fun, kit....� He swore he heard Victor speak in a low tone, the elder Fox giving him a slight nod as he crossed his gloved paws over the suit jacket covering his chest. �You don't have to win,� Came the cocky voice of Ricky, who was seated next to Marco. �You just have to kick his ass.� With that, the announcer once again took his place at the center of the ring, microphone gripped tightly in one paw as he drew in a breath to speak. �And now, without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, Peoples of all species! You've waited long enough; you've placed your bets, you've made your choices, and NOW, it's time to see who comes out on top! BOTH FIGHTERS! TO THE CENTER OF THE RING!� On cue, Connor and Ming rose from their stools, and approached the announcer. Staring each other in directly the eyes, they tuned out the Cougar's commentary. After several more seconds of speech, however, the magic words were finally spoken:� �ALL RIGHT! Both fighters, return to your corners, and come out swingin'!� At the sound of the bell, the fight began with a decidedly anxious start. Connor and Ming quickly met near the center of the ring, before backing off and beginning to circle one another, each fighter looking for an opening; a chink in his opponent's defense. In the end, it was Ming who made the first move, turning his body towards the left in a feint, while aiming a right hook towards Connor's left temple, which the Fox nimbly dodged, before responding with a hard left hook across the feline's muzzle, causing him to stumble backwards slightly as Connor took two sidesteps to his opponent's right, and readied himself for the counterattack that he knew would be coming. As Connor had predicted, Ming let out a growl of pure rage, before rushing in headlong and attempting to deliver a decent combination of body and head shots, one of which caught Connor on the side of his head, causing the Fox to take a step backwards, but not before delivering a strong counter-punch directly to the Tiger's jaw, which immediately sent the larger feline crashing directly down onto the mat beneath them. Connor took a few steps back, hopping up and down on his footpaws as he drew in a series of quick breaths through his nostrils, attempting to will his current adrenaline rush to continue on. Ming, laying on his back, had quickly flipped himself onto his chest and pushed himself onto his own footpaws, before the referee could even get to the count of 'two.' �You're good!� he shouted over, as Connor offered a bloody, toothy smile and a nod as well. �So are you! Ready to go again?� �Hell yes!� The referee barely had time to get out of the way as the two fighters suddenly charged directly towards one another, meeting in the center of the ring with a joint fury of combos of hooks, jabs, blocks and body shots. Connor let out a loud grunt of pain as one of Ming's hits found his solar plexus. Holding his breath and gritting his teeth against the pain, however, he responded with a feinted left jab, which Ming attempted to dodge, only to be caught full-force by the right hook that Connor intentionally drove with all of his strength into the Tiger's left temple. �TIME-OUT!� came the call from the Pangolin who served as his corner-man. �TIME-OUT, I said!� Ming let out a loud yowl of pain as his mouth guard was knocked out of place as he fell sideways onto the mat. Connor nodded his head in agreement towards the referee, before turning to return to the stool on his own side of the ring. The scaly Pangolin had to climb through the ropes in order to help Ming back onto his paws, before maneuvering him towards his own corner. �Hey, Ming!� Connor called over from his own corner. �Are you alright?!� �Fine! I'm just... Fine...� The Tiger groaned as his corner-man applied a small amount of pressure and stinging ointments to stop the bleeding from his muzzle. �I can keep going!� 'Alright, then...' Connor thought to himself as he shook his head sadly. 'I really hate to do this, but I guess I'll be winning Ted's bet after all...' After a few more seconds, once the referee and the ring doctor had both given the nod that Ming was okay to fight once again, he rose to his feet, the tall Tiger drawing in several deep breaths, nodding towards Connor as he slowly began to make his way towards the center of the boxing ring. The Fox, respecting the Tiger's resolve to go all the way, simply nodded his head deeply in return. 'I'm sorry for this, man... But if I don't end this match early, I can't promise that you won't get seriously hurt...' Connor thought to himself, as he began to mentally prepare for what was to come. Connor rose up from his stool, twisted his neck to pop the joints, before letting out a heavy sigh and marching forward to meet his opponent once again, in the center of the ring. �...You should've stayed down...� The Fox spoke through his mouth guard. Ming's triangular ears suddenly went up in surprise. �If you keep getting up, I'm going to keep putting you down. That's not a threat; from one fighter to another, that's a promise. I'm sorry, Ming, but you are NOT on my level yet, and I could see it from the way you rushed me during the second half of that first round. ...Maybe one day, though...� �ALL RIGHT!� The referee suddenly called out. �FIGHT!� Ming immediately attempted a combination of body shots towards Connor's ribs, following his combo up with a feint, leading into a left-handed Southpaw-style uppercut. But Connor had expected this move; he'd watched the tiger's amateur fights as part of his training ritual, after all. Sidestepping the uppercut, Connor spun around to the tiger's back, and drove his left fist hard into his right kidney, causing him to grimace in pain and quickly turn on his heels, his own fists raised to counterattack. But by that time, Connor had already changed directions once again; a trick he'd quickly picked up from training with both R�my and Victor, immediately placing himself at the Tiger's opposite side. As Ming's mind suddenly registered what had occurred, he quickly attempted to turn his head to the right, only to be greeted by a powerful, full-force haymaker, which contacted his muzzle directly between his chin and jaw. A loud 'snap' echoed throughout the ring as Connor suddenly called for the doctor, as he raised his gloves into the air and began to back slowly towards his own corner. He'd broken the his opponent's jaw. By all intents and purposes, the fight was now finished. Connor Oliver had successfully defended his title, and he and his associates had won quite a bit of money in the process. And, if he had anything to say about it, He'd at least hoped he'd taught Ming Hun a valuable lesson in the ring. Sometimes, you just have to Ride or Die. A loud cacophony of cheering and jeering began to come from the numerous occupants of the seats and stands of the stadium as the referee and the doctor both ducked between the ropes, and quickly took turns looking over the large Tiger, who lay splayed out on his back. He appeared to be mumbling something under his breath, shaking his concussed head slightly when he was asked if he would like to continue the fight. Raising up from his place next to his fighter on the mat, the black-scaled Pangolin, who'd been in the Tiger's corner since the beginning of the bout, reached up a clawed hand to remove a thin white towel from around his scaly neck, before tossing it towards Connor's general direction. �We surrender!� He vocalized, in his deep Indonesian accent. �Ming Hun has been seriously injured! We cannot allow this fight to go on!� Ted and Jimmy Fender both jumped up from their seats and quickly slipped in between the ropes as well, the pair of weasels marching directly up to the downed feline as they shoved the referee and the doctor away to the side. �Jaws's broken clean,� Jimmy nodded his graying muzzle as he reached out a paw to turn the tiger's head to one side. �He's definitely got a concussion, too, �Ted quickly added, before reaching out to pull up the Tiger's eyelids. �Yeah; he's gonna likely be out in recovery for about a month, at the very least. But, did you see the way he rushed up against Connor, near the end? I really think that this cat has some serious potential... �Well, then, we'll have to let him and his people find out for themselves, now won't we?� Jimmy responded with a smirk. �Now, help me lift 'im up; I can't understand a word that his corner-man is saying, but I know that we need to get him over to Harbor General right NOW.� --------3:43 A.M., Harbor General Hospital--------- Connor sat, his eyes tracing the linoleum at his feet, as his former opponent turned to face him with a drug-addled glaze. �You've won.� He spoke with a single nod, the morphine coursing through his veins making it hard for him to enunciate his speech. �You warned me, and I chose not to listen. You kicked my ass fair and square, yeah?� �Yeah...� Connor nodded in reply, his green eyes still tracing the floor under his feet. �But... I know that you knew who I was before you came forward with that challenge to fight me a week ago. I've seen your fights as well; you're no fuckin' slouch! But I just gotta ask one question, if you don't mind...� �Ask me anything, Champion. You've earned it, yeah?� �Why the fuck would you challenge ME?!� The Tiger let out a slight chuckle, wincing in pain as his wired-shut jaw attempted to open. �For the same reason as you fight, Connor. I wanted to see how my years of training stands up against the BEST... And don't look so sad, my friend...� Ming turned his muzzle to one side, so that he could look Connor directly in his green eyes. �Out of all the many people that I've fought over the years, you ARE the best. And the next time that someone like me decides to challenge you, I expect you to do nothing less than what you've done to ME tonight. 'Put them down', as I believe you said?� �You've got it, cat,� Connor nodded his head, meeting the Tiger's gaze with his own, and giving him a genuine, toothy smile. �From now, until I can't get up off the mat, I'm gonna show everyone out there exactly what I can do...� ---END CHAPTER 19