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Pilotte was out of his restraints, other than his collar which remained firmly on his neck. Sitting down, he rubbed his wrists, then rubbed his snout, sniffing the air; the salty smell of the ocean reached even inside. Opening and closing his jaw slowly, it was nice to be able to move his mouth again without that annoying muzzle. He made a low groaning noise, as walked around the room, able to move and walk without those annoying shackles, before stopping in front of Pocketknife and Eli. "So, you two really are my opponents? How tragic."

"What's tragic about it?" Eli said, sounding like he was genuinely answering the question. "I don't like killing someone so young." Pilotte shrugged. He gave the answer just as casually as Eli asked.

"I'm in my 20s, asshole!" Pocketknife yelled. "Why everyone treat me like a kid?!"

"Just ignore him." Eli said, looking to Pocketknife, grinning. "If he's gonna make fun of us, he better be ready to back up his words with his fists." After the fight with Darnelle, he was was use to being looked down on because of his age; as if the fact he'd be 19 in just a few months didn't matter at all. At this point, he might as well accept that every other opponent was gonna comment on it; at least until he's in his 20s.

"Damn right," Pocketknife said, spitting his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it.

Pounding on the inside of his skull. A familiar metallic rumbling. Felt like his head was going to explode. Pilotte felt his urges rising. A smile on his face, his long tongue handing out, his enormous tail swayed from side to side. Pilotte was ready to kill.

Beryl, bravely standing between them, explained the usual rules. "Alright, same rules as usual. Anything goes in this fight. Blah blah, you guys have had several fights, so you know the whole deal. We're going by 10 count or til knockout... Or to the death, if you prefer. As for you two, you will be considered losers if both of you are beaten, you can continue fighting with just one." She began to walk away from the participants, then with a swipe of her hand, gave the go ahead. "Begin!"

Pilotte was the first to make an attack. For such an enormous size, he was incredibly quick. His first target was Eli, sending a powerful punch at him, striking the bearcat, knocking him right off his feet.

The punch was strong, really really strong, enough so that Eli thought his arms were broken just from blocking it. His brain ran a double check: Nope, they're not broken. Super!

Pilotte then followed up the punch by spinning around, using his thick tail as a weapon to hit Eli away, like a powerful whip. Eli, shouting in pain, was sent tumbling across the arena. The landing and the skidding had to be the worst part.

"Eli!" Pocketknife shouted, swinging a punch at Pilotte's head.

Pilotte quickly caught the punch in his hand. "Feeling any regret yet?" He asked, squeezing Pocketknife's hand hard. He opened his mouth, saliva dripping from his lips, his breath smelled absolutely foul. He was going to bite!

"Get off of him!" Eli shouted, getting back on his paws and running over, striking Pilotte in the side of the head, hitting him in his left eye. He couldn't tell if he hurt him, it felt like punching an overfilled sandbag made of flesh, but at least it was painful enough that it interrupted his bite and loosened his grip.

"Thank you!" Pocketknife shouted, as he tugged his hand away. Now free from the komodo dragon's grip, he kicked him in the stomach, followed by another. His scales were hard, yes, but his belly was still just as soft as anybody else!

Well, soft might be the wrong word, again, it still felt like kicking a sandbag.

As the fight went on, a small party watched from the limousine parked not far from the warehouse. Ethan watched, trembling with anxiety, Audwin casually smoked a cigar, his arm around Rosemary, and Iago not even watching, he just stared at Ethan, cigar in his mouth.

"Hey, Iago? How likely is it that either of them die?" Audwin asked, looking to his friend.

"Hm, for the bearcat? I'd give him an 80 percent chance. 95 percent chance of defeat. 80 percent chance of dying."

"That high? You're so morbid," He said, puffing on his cigar. "What about Pocketknife? Don't tell me you're biased."

"Well, he is my son after all." Iago said, "That boy is equally difficult to kill as he is stupid. Chance of defeat is the same, chance of dying is much lower."

"He's your son?" Ethan asked, suddenly hopping into the conversation.

"Don't talk, boy," Audwin scolded Ethan. "Just watch."

Iago though, responded a tad bit friendlier. "He's adopted."

Audwin tapped his head, groaning. Now that things were finally picking up, maybe it was time to set the mood. "Rosemary? Play us a song. Go sit next to Ethan and accompany him."

"Yes sir," She said as she moved up and sat down next to Ethan, who scooted over to give her more room. She smelled rather sweet, unlike her namesake; Ethan had a very sensitive nose, so he couldn't help but notice people's smells. Iago grabbed an electronic keyboard, handing it over to Rosemary, who then placed on her and Ethan's lap. "What shall I play, sir?" She asked, looking over to Audwin.

"Whatever you think fits this." He had his eyes on Ethan. "Right now, I'm more interested in talking with Ethan. I have quite a few things to say."

Rosemary nodded and began playing an upbeat song, fumbling at first with the keys; she never really liked this clunky plastic keyboard. It was nothing compared to a true piano. He claws could never quite find the keys, even when they were in the same places she always played.

Back on the battlefield:

Neither Eli nor Pocketknife could get hit by Pilotte. The lizard swung with every intent to brutalize. Each hit, heavy and reckless. But at least that gave them the occasional opening. Eli struck him several times in the back, ducking under a punch, while Pocketknife hit him in the hip. "Do you ever feel like you've made a mistake?" Eli laughed, as he moved backwards, away from Pilotte, once he noticed the lizard was turning around to face him.

"Never in my life!" Pocketknife laughed, as he stepped on Pilotte's tail, trying to climb up on his back. "No regrets here!" Now on Pilotte's back, he got some leverage on the larger man's shoulder, and began to punch him several times in the head.

The audience was left impressed, from those standing on the catwalk that over looked the fight to those out in the back, preferring to watch from a safer place. When standing under the shadow of such a colossus, you have to find creative ways to hurt them.

"That guy is one of yours, isn't he?" One of the men asked Brook, as they watched the fight. "I guess big size can be a detriment at times."

"I just met him recently but he's pretty cool," Brook nodded, getting along with her new friends. "Does this mean the fight is over?"

"I wouldn't count on it. It's far from over as a matter of fact." The otter, who had recently introduced himself as Iver. "I've seen this guy's fight before, the lizard I mean. Everyone of them has involved him taking loads of damage." He ate some of his food. "Not saying that your friends won't be surviving, that is. I have a feeling they'll come out of this alive."

"Don't worry about it," Brook nodded. "I'm only slightly worried for them. Is it normal for people to become super close to fighters working under them?"

"Of course," the other man said, also an otter, who had introduced himself as Bon. "Fighters and Handlers can form familial relationships, it's not rare. A lot of people who fight in Primal have their own families and their own lives. They're not just tools of war... Although some people would disagree with me. It's a bit risky to be sending a loved one to a life or death scenario, but it happens all the time, and not all of those sad endings."

"I think Pilotte is the only exception here," Iver laughed. "I think it's safe to assume he only cares about hurting and killing people."

Brook nodded, feeling a tiny bit of relief. Eli and Pocketknife were coming out of this alive, she knew it.

Back to the action:

Pocketknife continued to hit Pilotte, still clinging to his back. Eli stayed in front of him, hitting him from the front. Looks like they had a good strategy going on. That was until Pilotte reached behind himself and grabbed Pocketknife. "Enough!"

Pocketknife attempted to cling onto him with his legs, locking his feet along Pilotte's sides to keep himself on, but it wasn't looking good. "Ah fuck." He said, knowing he was in for a world of pain.

Pilotte swung him forward, in the same motion one would use to draw and swing a sword sheathed on their back. Pocketknife made impact with the hard floor and it hurt about as much as he expect. He would taste and feel blood in his mouth and nose, even his large, pig like snout spurted blood like a cannon.

"Pocketknife!" Eli shouted, he ran forward to his friend on the ground, only to be tackled by Pilotte before he could reach him, the lizard yet again proving his impressive speed. Eli tumbled away, as he watched Pilotte place his foot on Pocketknife's chest, pressing down.

"Fuck..." Pocketknife growled, gritting his fangs, as he pushed up on Pilotte's foot to keep himself from being crushed.

The next step would be, of course, to shove Pilotte off of the coati. But Pilotte anticipated such a move. He kept Eli away with his long and thick tail, swinging it around himself. Eli couldn't approach the man without risk of getting hit. The speed as which he swung, the strength of the tail making it impossible to take a hit from it, the weight of Pilotte making grabbing and pulling it a non-option. Everything about said tail made Eli jealous that his own tail wasn't as strong. But now was not the time for jealousy; he had to get Pocketknife back up on his feet.

Think, Eli, think, he told himself, as he began to strafe around Pilotte. Pilotte's defense wasn't 100 percent airtight. As a matter of fact, it had an obvious flaw in it; that being Pilotte's front, where only the tip of his tail reached. Yes, that was it... "Aced the test." Eli smiled, rushing forward. The range at which Pilotte swung his tail, his most dangerous weapon, wasn't really a 360 degree angle. More like a 350 degree angle. Those tiny 10 degrees were directly in front of him. He just had to get up in there once the tail swing would be at its weakest and...

Eli closed the distance, now in front of Pilotte. He could feet the tip of his tail graze him, but a graze was still just a graze. "Get off of my friend!" He shouted, as he hit Pilotte directly in the snout with a powerful palm fist. The strike was felt by everyone. Painful, effective, and debilitating. Pilotte lumbered away, rubbing his snout, feeling blood drip out of his nostils.

Pocketknife gasped, getting up off the ground, rolling on his side to gain distance quickly. Once back up, he looked over to Eli. "Thank you." He gave a thumbs up.

"No problem." Eli gave a thumbs up back, before rushing in. There was a technique that he used in his past fights that worked all too well. A classic, something loved by dirty fighters everywhere and the unsportsman-like's tool of trade, it was the good old kick to the nuts. Eli swung a strong kick, hitting the now defenseless Pilotte in the groin.

Only for him to immediately grab Eli, completely unphased by the kick.

"Huh?" Eli asked, as he sound himself picked up and ready to be thrown. He had kicked even the most pain tolerant people in the nuts before. How did that not hurt?

Onlookers had an answer.

"How do you get kicked like that and not respond with pain?" Brook asked, leaning forward as she watched the projection screen. "Does he not have any balls?"

"Haven't you taken sex ed?" Iver said, raising a brow. "Well, I suppose you aren't a reptile and didn't take reptile sex ed."

"What's being a reptile have to do with it? Besides, I like to not think about my school life."

Bon explained further. "Pilotte is a reptile. Mammals like us, we have our balls on the outside of our body, protected only by skin. Our natural body heat is too hot for sperm to thrive, you see, so they have to be put in such a dangerous position."

"Pilotte, though, he's cold blooded, literally and figuratively." Iver explained, building off of his friend's explanation. "His natural body heat is lower than ours. So his balls are on the inside of his body."

"So he's immune to being kicked in the balls?" Brook said, as if this was such enormous epiphany. "Come on, that's not fair!" What an oddly specific but useful skill to have.

Eli, regretting his decision and regretting that he couldn't do more damage, found himself being thrown across the room, like a fuzzy baseball. Internally, he was shouting to himself to find a way to lessen the impact, but he hit the opposite wall full force, falling to the ground; the pain was like no other he had felt, not for a long long time. He was pretty sure he went unconscious for a second; not long enough for it to matter. It was perfectly normal to go in and out of consciousness in the middle of a fight, right?

Pilotte wasn't going to let that action slide. He had his full attention on Eli. "You little shit." He cracked his neck. He was now standing up straight, no longer hunched over, his full height realized, standing at over 7 feet tall. "This metallic pang I feel in my head. My brain, being hammered down flat." He grinned a bloody smile, "I like it. You're lucky, kiddo. Dying to the most free man in the world."

Back in the limousine, Audwin was busy listening to the music. Ethan had somehow remained silent the whole time, not wanting to draw any ire from anyone after being snapped at so many times. Rosemary continued playing her song; her eyes shimmered with childish joy, being able to play a song she liked. Despite playing on a cheap (relatively) electronic keyboard, she handled it as well as a high quality ivory keyed piano; she played what sounded like a swing song, but Ethan didn't know his music genres very well.

"So, Iago, have your opinions changed?" Audwin asked his friend.

"Yes. I think their chances of victory grow slimmer and slimmer." Iago sighed, "That idiot boy... He better not die."

"Pocketknife's your son, isn't he?" Ethan spoke up, "Aren't you worried for him?"

"You're the one who sent him on this fight, boy," Iago sneered, biting on his cigar. "Why don't you continue keeping that bitch mouth shut."

"I'm just asking," Ethan sighed, "I have every fate in my friends and I didn't force them to take this fight, I asked them and they agreed to it. Yet I can barely sit still from the anxiety. That's your son up there and you don't even seem to be worrying."

"Are you implying that I don't love my son?"

"Maybe I am."

Rosemary momentarily stopped playing, noticing the rising tensions in the small room of the limo. But, Audwin nodded to her, silently instructing her to keep playing.

Iago, motioned for Ethan to come closer to him. "Come here, boy, or I'll pull you over."

Ethan, hesitant, but knowing he had no other choice, gently got up; he made sure not to disturb Rosemary as she played her piano.

"Closer." Iago said, putting his cigar in a nearby ashtray.

Ethan leaned in closer to the man, enough that he could smell the cigar smoke on his breath. Then, before he could react, Iago gripped him by the collar of his shirt and swiftly slammed him down on the table in front of him. The whole table shook, the champagne glasses shook, Audwin chuckled with glee, putting his feet up on the table so that the soles of his shoes brushed up against Ethan's side. Ethan felt a throbbing pain through his person, but mostly on the side of his head and shoulder where he hit the table, he could only grit his teeth in pain, as Iago shoved his hand down on his head, pressing him further against the table.

"Don't you fucking imply I don't love that brat!" He shouted in Ethan's ear, nothing but intense rage in his voice. "I see you, trembling there like a no dick pansy! You want to make it in this world, you want to benefit from Primal! Fucking grow a pair and talk to me again!" He loosened, grip, allowing Ethan to raise his head off the table, feeling a bit of blood drip from his lip. Iago lounged back in his seat, watching the pathetic bat weakly rise up.

Ethan, however, didn't notice Audwin kneeling right next to him, until he felt his hand on his shoulder. "Iago makes a forceful point," the owl said, "But he isn't wrong."

"How?" Ethan ask, even though he already knew in his heart how right the badger was. How he wanted to cry then and there, whether it be from stress or from pain, but he had to hold it back until he got home.

"Rosemary, stop playing," Audwin said, snapping his fingers. Rosemary obeyed. "Let me break it down for you, Ethan. This world, the world of Primal, it's one full of men and women that are addicted to violence. To bare witness to such violence, it requires a certain stomach; that goes not just for the audience members but the Handlers as well. You need confidence and the ability to not worry about those around you. It requires selfishness and the ability to make sacrifices."

Sacrifices? Ethan thought to himself

"Perhaps that isn't exactly accurate." Audwin shook his head. "I suppose not everyone needs to be a sacrifice, recently death has become somewhat rare in Primal. But, overall, if Fighters are warriors and soldiers, then to be a Handler you need the mindset of a military leader. It requires a separation from the person that is the fighter, if just for a fleeting moment. Most of all, it requires a brave heart that can make decisions like a CEO makes business decisions. The heart of a General and the brain of a CEO... And let me tell you, Ethan, you ain't it." Audwin moved back to his seat, watching as Ethan could only wallow in self pity, next to Rosemary. The pity wasn't lost on Iago, who only looked at the young man with shame.

"Sorry, Ethan," Iago said, "But we aren't the only ones thinking it. We don't understand why Hallmark chose you, but everyone who knows about his involvement has begun questioning his decision."

Who exactly was Hallmark? Ethan didn't understand anything. Why did everyone know about him being chosen like this?

Ethan sat back up, looking down, his sensitive ears ringing from the yelling he received.

"Well, think we're done here." Audwin sighed, looking back up at the television screen to resume watching the battle. Eli and Pocketknife still struggling.

"What if I'm not wrong?" Ethan said weakly.

"Huh?" Audwin looked back, holding a glass of champagne.

"No... I am wrong. I was wrong to act so anxious and pathetic. But just because I'm wrong, that doesn't mean you're right." He said, finally making eye contact with the owl, a tired but stoic look in his eyes.

"Don't know what you're getting at, Ethan," Audwin shook his head. "But it's pissing me off a tiny bit."

Ethan picked up a glass of champagne and in one movement, drank down the whole thing. Then, he picked up a second one; the second one originally belonging to Rosemary, but she was too busy watching where this was going to stop him. "You think I'm not fit for this. You think my emotions and my attachment to others is a weakness, isn't it?"

"I'm saying your meekness is a weakness, but keep going, it's entertaining." Audwin said, looking forward to see where this went.

"What's this? The pussy has grown some balls?" Iago said, smiling, just as amused.

"I'm going to make a bet, Audwin." Ethan continued, looking into his glass of champagne, the bubbly liquid giving a distorted view of the room. "If Eli and Pocketknife lose, whether they die or not, you can keep them. If they survive, they'll work under you, as their new Handler. I will step down from my position and return to a relatively normal life. If they win though, Pocketknife will belong to me," He said, looking to Iago as he gave that particular demand. "But also, I want you to take back everything you said about me just now. Moreover, I want you to praise me. Tell others about me, how I am the coming of a new great Handler. I want you to give me your golden recommendation. Do you think that's fair?" His voice rose in confidence, all it took was a bit of liquid courage, as he shouted his demands to the half blind owl. How long had he felt this feeling? The burning spirit of being a gambler. Ethan finished his demands by drinking down his second glass of champagne. He even put his arm around Rosemary, was watching Ethan's demands with mild amusement.

Audwin's one good eye twitched in anger, his claws were digging into the arm of his chair. "You piece of shit..."

"How grandiose." Rosemary mumbled, nodding, taking no sides in this scenario.

"Deal," Iago said, "I at least agree to it." He rubbed his chin, his expression a mixture of annoyance and impression. "What about you Audwin? He's way in over his head, but I want to see where this goes. It'll at least be fun to see him crash and burn."

"Alright," Audwin grimaced, shaking his head in disbelief. "We have a deal. What of the girl you were with though? What of Eli and Pocketknife, they're not here for this?"

"I'll explain things to her. I'm sure she'll understand. We have enough money to last us for sometime too and we're still free to take part in Primal's activities so it isn't like we're missing out, we just won't be doing fights. As for the boys, if I'm as weak as you say I am, Eli and Pocketknife are better off working under someone stronger, better at decision making. Like the Great Audwin." He looked over to Iago, before looking over to Audwin, "I don't care much about the reward here. I want to do this so I can prove you wrong. CEO mindset? Heart of a general? I don't think either is needed, I will win with my own mindset.

Audwin nodded, "Very well, I accept your bet. Just know there are no take backs. Don't ever say I'm not a man of my word."

Back in the arena, Eli and Pocketknife were at their wits end. Pilotte had taken plenty of fits, visually bruised and bleeding, but he was still better off than both of his opponents. Beryl watched with enjoyment, knowing that the fight would be over soon. From the looks of things, she was going to win her bet!

"Have any ideas?" Eli said, still smiling. He was down on one knee, looking over to his friend who was lying on the floor.

"I got one." Pocketknife said. He had to get back on his feet soon, otherwise he'd be counted as defeated. It was from down here that he got this idea, when something heavy and metal caught his eye. It was so obvious.

Pilotte got ready to charge, running at the two, singling out the more vulnerable Pocketknife. "Die for me!" He shouted.

Pocketknife was swift to get up, while Eli dodged to the side. In his hand was a metal pipe, picked up off the ground. "Fuckhead!" The pipe smashed into the side of Pilotte's head, complete with a satisfying metal PANG. The crowd gasped in unison.

Pilotte didn't have anytime to recover, when he was suddenly struck in the back by a large plank of wood, wielded by Eli. Unlike the pipe, the plank broke on contact; didn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell. "Fuck..." he growled, looking to Beryl with an accusatory glare.

"It's allowed!" Beryl clarified for him. "The pipe and wood were in the arena at the start. It's only a rule break if they're brought in." She giggled, "I honestly give them points for using their environment to their advantage."

Well, isn't that a load of shit! Pilotte growled, getting hit over and over by the pipe wielded by Pocketknife; Eli had already reequipped himself with a pipe of his own, knowing it wouldn't break on Pilotte's thick skin; the two were now taking turns beating him, like an especially violent pinata. They were doing it! They were actually driving Pilotte back and away from them. All it took was an unfair advantage of having a weapon and being outnumbered!

"They're really going to do it!" Iver shouted from his seat.

"Don't jump to conclusions." Bon shook his head. "Pilotte is getting angry. He's at his strongest when he's angry."

Brook watched as well, getting excited, out of her seat. "Come on! Just a bit more!"

None of them noticed the way Pilotte was positioning his arms. One arm remained shielding his head, wrapped around him in a U shape, while the other was moving to his collar, gripping onto it. "I can't stop it. I can no longer hold back! This urge to kill! Screw you, Primal!" He spun in a circle, swinging his tail at his assailants, knocking them away from him. No longer being beaten, both hands were on his collar, tugging on it. "I am... The most free man... In the world!" A cracking sound was heard, his arms were bulging, with great effort, the collar was starting to break.

"Uh, Beryl?!" One of the White Shirts shouted, watching this go down.

"On it!" She shouted, taking the remote for the collar, ready to blow Pilotte's head sky high.

But, the damage to the collar was already done. With one last tug, the collar snapped off in the lizard's hands. An explosion occurred, the collar blowing up as it left his hands. It was small, intended to blow off someone's head without damaging the area around them.

"Oh no..." Beryl said, wide eyed, her scar aching. Her bosses were going to kill her. This was not how it was suppose to go.

Eli and Pocketknife, Brook and her new friends. Ethan and his co-workers. All of them watched in horror, as Pilotte rubbed his now bare neck. Singed by the explosion but relatively unharmed; it had exploded directly in front of his chest, destroying his jumpsuit and damaging his scales, revealing raw muscle. Pilotte was truly free again. Pilotte turned and ran away from his opponents, smashing through the door leading to the hall that lead outside. With a smile, he sniffed the air, with only one thing on his mind: That hyena.

Such a shame, someone like you being killed by someone like me.

---

Notes:

Pilotte is a very simple character to write. No skill, no gimmicks, he's just a very very strong man with thick scales. Fun fact, a lot of his quotes are inspired by the character of Forsaken Murderer from the game Lobotomy Corp/Library of Ruina

That scene with Ethan and the others was fun to write. Ethan's suffering has only just begun. But it is nice to have a person from Primal who is straight up antagonistic and hateful towards Ethan. He's been treated nicely for long enough.