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Lucas went through his morning routine the same way he and Victus did on any other day, but going through the motions without the other man by his side was disconcerting. He knew the moves, he could perform the duties, but without having Victus there to maintain decorum and ensure that protocol was followed, Lucas felt adrift. He'd actually come to view it as part of his duty to knock the Kenzine off his high pedestal, to make their security team seem more human and approachable. For the first time in his professional life he felt like the good cop, the agent who lightened the mood of a room so other people felt at ease. Without Victus to act as straight man he had no foil against which to push, and he surprised himself by sort of missing the stuck-up ass.

His morning duties were performed with dull monotony, and it wasn't until he was halfway finished with his breakfast of grain cereal and tea that he realized he could have ordered anything he wanted. "If he's not back by tomorrow morning," he thought, rebelliously, "I'm damn well ordering eggs and bacon."

The previous day had gone smoothly enough, with Mal and Leland not doing anything requiring them to leave the estate. Aside from standing guard outside the negin's private office for a few hours while Mal conducted business with visitors, Lucas had nothing to do aside from exercising and watch the daily newscasts. The lack of demands gave his body time to rest but it also gave his mind time to wander, and he wasn't pleased with the direction his thoughts were taking.

Victus's absence was giving Lucas a preview of his own future. In six months the Kenzine would be reassigned, and Lucas would be left alone to guard the negin. It was far better duty than if he'd been left to rot in the pits, but it still paled in comparison with his previous life in the armed forces. Before he'd gone on that abortion of an assignment he'd been on the military fast track, and now...

He looked around at the bustling activity going on around him in the kitchen and reminded himself that no matter however good things used to be, his future could be better if he made it that way. He was in control of his destiny, and could steer the ship of his life in whatever way he wished. No matter how bad things seemed, he was in control.

That decided, he perked his ears and made every attempt at joviality. His tail was almost wagging by the time Leland called him into his office and slammed him back to earth. "Percy needs a training partner," he said, looking sour at being required to demote Negin Mal's personal guard.

Lucas was stunned. "Are you out of your mind?" he asked, forgetting to curse in his amazement.

Leland pursed his lips and sighed disgustedly. He felt no great love for Mal's personal guard, but he hated the inefficiency that came from wasting expensive house resources on such a pointless exercise. "I had nothing to do with it. This is direct from Mal." At times like this, he wished he smoked. People always looked so relaxed while they burned their lives away, and right now he wished he could feel a bit of that relaxation. "Percy's regular punching bag is in the hospital with a set of broken ribs, and Mal wants you to take his place." He rubbed his forehead with his hands. "I think he's punishing you for the other night, and for Victus taking emergency leave, and for his having irregular bowels..." he trailed off, then added, "I heard him mutter something about not wanting you to get rusty."

He gave up wishing for the impossible and squared his shoulders. "It doesn't matter why, he just wants you to do it, so..." he waved his hands dismissively. "Off you go. Find Bixby and take instructions from him. And just so you know," he said, feeling unexpectedly charitable,"I think he's timing you, so shake a leg."

***

"Stop being such a pussy and get in there." Bixby was not a man who wasted much time on courtesy.

Lucas shot a glance at the practice ring, and into the cold, dead eyes of Mal's house champion. Pumped up on enough steroids to shrink the testicles of a bull elephant, the man was larger than a sapiens had any right to be. He was mean, he was aggressive, and his teeth had been filed to points, all factors which made the idea of sparring with the man distinctly unappealing. "I hear you're some hot shit fighter, so maybe you can teach the champ a thing or two." Hearing this, the mountain of muscle smiled crookedly and cracked his knuckles. They popped with wet, sucking sounds that set Lucas's teeth on edge.

Lucas thought he'd finally retired from pit fighting and wasn't at all looking forward to doing it again, even if it was just a sparring match. Over the years he'd found that it was usually easier, and far less painful, to lay an opponent out as quickly as possible rather than have an extended fight with them. Pulling your punches was a hell of a lot harder than just letting loose and beating the shit out of someone; but that's what he was going to have to do today.

He wasn't getting out of this, so he might as well hike up his shorts and face the inevitable. Sighing and pushing his way between the ropes, Lucas stepped into the ring. He'd barely had time to stand up before a fist came out of nowhere, slamming him in the side of the head and knocking him to the ground.

"Give me a chance to tape up, you fucking moron!" he yelled, raising an arm to ward off the other man.

"Back up, champ," Bixby said, in a nasal, almost wheedling tone of voice that suggested the relationship between the two men. The trainer was runty and thin, and having a bull elephant of a man like Percy under his control fulfilled needs that he'd never be able to satisfy with his own muscles. "The champ" could do whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he was loyal to Bixby.

The rhythmic bouncing of the ring floor beneath Lucas let him know that Percy was jumping up and down in barely-contained excitement. Once the man had retreated far enough for Lucas to feel safe, he levered himself off the canvas and shook the wool out of his head.

Percy lunged forward, favoring his trainer with a smile and a chuckle when Lucas flinched back. Lucas wasn't afraid of the man, but neither was he stupid. Confronting an attacker when your head was still spinning was just bad policy, but getting laughed at was threatening to change that policy.

"C'mon, faggot," the man growled.

Lucas grinned dangerously. "Barkin' up the wrong tree, my friend," he said, as he wrapped the stretchy, self-adhesive bandage around first one hand paw, then the other. His unhurried movements had the economy of a man used to this environment. "I've already fucked everybody on the estate who's worth fuckin'," he said conversationally as he wrapped his fists. He glanced pointedly at Bixby. "Obviously that leaves you out." He bit the tape off and tossed the remainder of the roll back into the ringside bin. "But I guess the champ here's probably got you taken care of on that front, huh?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Bixby drawled, shooting Lucas a sour look. "Don't hurt him too bad, buddy," he said to his fighter, "he still has to guard the boss when we're through with him." He clapped Percy on the shoulder. "Speed work today, buddy. Speed work." He glanced over at Lucas. "You ready?"

"Born that way," Lucas blustered, knocking his fists together and rearranging the guard in his mouth. "Let's do it."

While he'd been taping up, Lucas had been covertly examining both Percy and Bixby for signs that might hint at their preferred strategy. Some fighters danced around the ring until they wore you out, others got down to business and came out swinging. So far, other than the rancorous gleam in Percy's eye, there'd been little to see. Lucas thought that since passive observation wasn't scoring any intel, maybe it was time to turn up the fire. "What happened to you, Percy?" he asked. "You look like you could have been a sweet little boy, and now you're stuck in the cellar with the rats." Lucas shook his head as if in pity. "I'll bet when you were little, you were that sad little kid in the class that everyone else laughed at." He moved almost silently on the balls of his feet, bobbing gently back and forth as he circled Percy in the ring.

"I'll bet when you started growing up, you got tired of getting picked on, so you put in a bunch of time in the gym." Lucas ducked Percy's half-hearted jab and continued circling. "But then you looked up and everyone else had left without you. You missed the boat." Percy swung again, but this time Lucas ducked under his passing arm and snapped a lightning-fast jab to the man's side, just under his ribs. It was a hit that had just enough force behind it to sting, not to hurt. He continued his taunts, his voice never straying from its bored tone. "Everyone else moved up, but you got left behind."

"Shut up and fight," Percy growled.

Lucas shot a quick combination at Percy's belly, then retreated to a safe distance. He wasn't in a mood to cause damage with his fists or his words, he just wanted to annoy his opponent sufficiently to get a feeling for how the man's mind worked. "Inside, you're just a scared little boy who isn't any smarter now than he was back then."

"Drop the chatter and fight, asshole," Bixby said, from safely outside the ring. "And stop dancing around."

Lucas chuckled. "You think his opponent's going to just stand there and let himself be a punching bag for your champ, here?" As he was speaking, he took advantage of the distraction by delivering a quick shot to Percy's left temple. He connected, but this time Percy wasn't caught unaware. The fighter slammed a fist into Lucas's chest with a good deal more force than Lucas had been using. If it weren't for the awkward angle he might have broken a rib or two.

Counting himself lucky, Lucas danced back out of reach. Glancing or not, it had still been a painful blow. It was worth it though, for it gave him what every prize fighter covets. Not speed, not strength, but insight. Lucas won his fights not by being stronger than his opponents, but by being smarter, by knowing their weak spots and by knowing how they operated. The look in Percy's eyes as Lucas taunted him was telling.

The picture was coming together. Percy, Lucas thought, was a hell of a lot faster with his fists than he was with his wits. From what he'd garnered from conversations with Victus, Percy had the endurance of a plow horse, the strength of an ox and an inhuman tolerance for pain. Combine all that with a bit of patience, and he'd be a force to be reckoned with. Lucas smiled to himself. He couldn't do much about the other man's strength or endurance, but he had a boatload of experience in getting men to lose their patience.

"Is that the best you can do, fat boy?" Lucas chuckled. "You're not even close to being ready for the ring, my friend." He struck out at Percy's fists, knocking them around and making the man look foolish. "Whoever you're fighting, he's gonna wipe his blade clean with your underwear."

"Don't wear no underwear," Percy grunted, then smiled disarmingly. "Wanna see?" His right arm swung around in a roundhouse blow, which Lucas easily ducked. Unfortunately, Percy's left fist was coming up at the precise moment Lucas's head was going down, and Lucas saw stars.

Lucas reeled from the blow to his snout. "Not so smart without your little buddy, huh?" Percy chuckled. "You're gonna be the one left behind after he's gone. Mal's pretty little ninja boy gonna go back to his temple, and you gonna be all alone with me." He leaned forward and took another jab at Lucas's head. Lucas pulled his head out of the way in time to avoid the blow, but it was close. Lucas managed to land a few hits of his own, but each one resulted in a small grunt of discomfort that Percy effortlessly shrugged off.

Percy hissed, "Don't matter how many bitches you fuck, you're sweet on that wolf." He chuckled malevolently. "Everyone knows it."

"Jesus, you're off base," Lucas shook his head dismissively as he tried not to stagger around the ring. "That dude's the last man I'd want to pork." He saw an opening, swung a hard fist, and missed completely.

Percy smiled as if Lucas had just inspired a thought. "You don't want him, maybe I'll take him. Knock him out and take what I want."

Even through his pain, that made Lucas chuckle. "Dream big, Percival."

"I already had one wolf," Percy said, defensively. "Got her for winning regionals last year. All the pussy I wanted, while she was howling at the moon."

Lucas didn't miss Percy's use of the past tense. "So what happened to her? She run away from your ugly mug?" Lucas landed a few blows but they gained him little ground.

"Keep talking," Percy said, advancing on Lucas with mayhem in his eyes. "I like hearing that pretty voice of yours. Reminds me of her." He lashed out at Lucas with a flurry of blows that sent the canine backpedalling across the ring. "But she's dead. I fucked her to death," he bragged. "I've got appetites, you know?" Percy kept the idle chatter running as he methodically beat down Lucas's defenses. "See, she was noisy. Always screaming and yelling 'til I shoved a sock in her mouth." He bugged his eyes out in a pantomime of someone being strangled. He giggled as if the image was hilarious, but he never let his guard down.

Percy sounded almost wistful as his dump truck of a fist slammed into Lucas's head. "And then one night she just went crazy, screaming and kicking til I had to strap her down. I was fuckin' her good, and for a while she was jerking back and forth like she was gettin' off on it." His chuckle sought sympathy from Lucas, but fell on deaf ears.

After another unexpected round of hits Lucas stumbled and dropped to one knee, and Percy held back for long enough that Lucas thought the man might be getting tired, but that wasn't the case. Lucas realized that Percy was just pacing himself, and that the fighter barely looked winded. The man had the almost supernatural endurance of a battle varius.

He gave a stomping kick to Lucas's shoulder, sending the varius rolling across the mat. "I didn't even know the dumb cunt was dead until she started gettin cold." Percy smiled with the creepy innocence of a five-year-old recounting his birthday party. "I finished, but still..."

The pleasant expression fell away, leaving a smoldering hatred in its absence. "Was gonna get a new one this year, but some god damned furry asshole came out of nowhere and started working the ring."

Lucas felt like his head had been stuffed with cotton. His lips felt too big, like he'd just come from the dentist. Even so, he knew who Percy was talking about. "Me?" He shook his head. "Didn't really have a choice. It was win or die, you know that." He took a quick jab at Percy's belly but the world betrayed him, sliding sideways beneath his feet and making him stumble.

Skillet-sized hands pinned Lucas down and slapped at his ears."You fucked up big time, Lukey. You won just enough to push me out of the brackets." The slaps increased in force until they turned into angry, open-handed strikes threatening to snap Lucas's neck. Percy had lost control and had started fighting for real. "Now I don't qualify! I'm..." slap "...not..." slap "...getting..." slap "...my..." slap "...PUSSY!" The last word was a bestial roar, punctuated by a closed fist slamming into Lucas's muzzle.

The blow snapped his head around and left the over-stretched skin of his muzzle feeling like a swarm of wasps was stinging him. Through half-closed eyes, Lucas could see that one of his teeth had snagged Percy's hand wrap and had mostly ripped it off. For some reason Lucas found this unbearably funny, and he began to laugh.

Disgusted, Percy ripped off what remained of his tape and tossed it out of the ring. He would have walked away from the annoying freak, but the bastard was laughing - laughing at him! The asshole had ruined any chance he'd have at getting another sex slave, and he was laughing? Percy leaned down so Lucas was sure to hear. "I'll bet that Kenzine's asshole is nice and tight." He reached down with a huge hand and grabbed Lucas's head, his thumb digging into the varius's ear hole like he was holding a bowling ball.

Cocking his other fist, Percy had every intention of knocking Lucas's teeth out of his head when a canine fist slammed into his ear, distracting him long enough for the varius to wriggle free and snake out between his legs.

Lucas made it to his feet, but the world around him was spinning. He didn't understand it - he'd been in plenty of fights before and hadn't been affected this way. The Champ, he thought, was stronger than he'd imagined, and was far, far less sane.

Lucas stumbled away, surprised at how disoriented he was. He'd been in fights with opponents far larger than Percy, and even though he'd taken some good hits he hadn't lost his wits like this. Shaking his head seemed to help....a little. Getting his bell rung made him rethink his strategy. Suddenly, escape seemed like a far more realistic goal than winning.

Quicker than he thought possible, Percy was on him, one hand holding him down while the other drew back like a loaded weapon. "Time to go night-night," he crooned, as if talking to a child. He took care to look at Lucas's face, carefully watching the other man's eyes to see his reaction. Seeing defeat in a man's eyes was good. Fear was even better.

Knowing what was coming and the way his opponent wanted it to play out, Lucas refused to accommodate. Even when Percy twisted his fingers through his headfur and shook to get his attention, Lucas would not meet his gaze. His eyes wandered as if in stupor, coming closer and closer to Percy's with each lolling passage across the big mans face. Lucas was suddenly overwhelmed with the fear that, insane as he was, Percy would not rest until he violated Victus, even if that meant killing him first.

Proximity improved Lucas's aim. With Percy this close there was little chance he would miss his target, and Lucas had time for one shot. "Make it a good one," he told himself. Knowing what would happen if he failed, he mustered what strength was left into one final blow. Twisting his torso to put added strength behind the hit, he drove his fist into Percy's windpipe and felt cartilage crush and separate. Percy rolled on the ground, heaving his bulk back and forth as he clutched at the ruin of his throat, his breath coming in broken gasps.

Lucas struggled to his feet and staggered to the edge of the ring. Irrationally, the thought that floated through his mind at that moment was, "Now Vic's safe." Bixby was shouting something at him, but coming as it was from so many miles away, it seemed irrelevant. With only the vaguest feelings that anything was amiss, his feet drifted off the ground as awareness floated away.