Renaldo Somersworth, The Slug to those who
knew him, sat at his desk, making arrangements for the next match, when
Angelico stormed in. When the Slug was in public, he made an effort to look
nice, dressed up in formal wear, concealing what he could. He looked clean and
presentable. However, when conducting business in his office, he was covered in
a mucus-like slime, which he left over everything he touched. He opted for no
clothes. When he crawled along (with no legs, it could not be said he walked),
his stomach bumped the ground, giving his lower half (a tail, you might call
it) proper lubrication. He was not a typical creature from the planet
Soderheim, but there were more than one of his kind, and they were not the
pleasantest of species to come from there. Angelico flinched every time he
looked at him, but he had to admit, The Slug did give off a pleasant scent,
like lemons. Besides, he was the only manager who was going to give him a
chance to compete in Ophidian.
Angelico interrupted The Slug's phone call by slamming a newspaper down on his desk. "Have you seen this?"
"I'll have to call you back, an important client just walked in." This ended his phone call. "Now, what is it you want?"
"Have you seen today's headlines?" shrieked Angelico. As he wasn't fighting today, he was dressed. He wore jeans, a large sweater cut down the back, so his wings could free themselves, and tennis shoes.
The Slug looked over the first page of the paper, soaking it in his slime. "There's no mention of you."
"Exactly. Now, turn to page G-11."
"Oh, here you are, 'Daniel Dis-Grace.' "
"It's bad enough they haven't forgotten my past...but at least they could broadcast it on the first page. There's no picture of me, not even one of me lying there bloody and defeated. I'm a nobody."
"Well, maybe this will lift your spirits. I got a fight for you."
"Another Ophidian opening act?"
"Nope, you're the main event."
"In the Ophidian circuit?"
"Not exactly, it's a Dogma match."
"What's the Dogma match?"
"An off off-circuit tournament."
Angelico threw his hands in the air dramatically. "It's one of those that the nobodies are too good to compete in?"
"Actually, it's where the somebody’s start out."
This caught Angelico's attention. "Really? Like who?"
"Well..." The Slug turned around, muffling his last words. Angelico strained to listen but knew there was nothing to be heard.
Angelico sighed, defeated. "All right, whom am I fighting?"
"An unknown fighter..."
"An ex-con who chose to fight rather than go to prison because he's got a vendetta?"
"Pretty much. Comes from Morten. A lot of security travels with him. Supposed to be dangerous."
"Well, that's something."
"Never fought in the arena, but the people he's gone up against on the outside...well, be glad you're in more controlled circumstances."
"Fine, fine, dangerous, unknown, got it. Just arrange it." He paused, staring at The Slug. Finally, he asked, "Did you know Lothar was going to substitute?"
"What?" asked The Slug. His "surprise" performance was cheap and campy. Conveniently the phone rang. "Show yourself out, will you? I have to take this." Angelico left, his question almost answered.
Dogma was a small moon with a total population less than most cities. The turnout for the match was one-fifteenth what his Ophidian match was the other day. "Fewer people to see me lose," he said to himself, leaving the dressing room. Before he walked into the spotlight he did a final inspection on his curly blond hair, body glitter, and the small loincloth he called his uniform. He took one last glance at his toned muscles in a mirror and was ready to show off.
He walked down an outside corridor towards the arena. It seemed deserted, and he had a momentary fear it was a set up...another one. To his surprise, an alien, which looked human except with extra appendages, shouted, "It's Angelico!" Suddenly he and a crowd of nearly thirty others rushed to greet the gladiator. They were composed of many species and races, quite a few appeared to be half breeds.
Angelico stood tall, lifted his half-folded wings majestically, and put out his arms in a welcoming manner. "Hello, my fans."
They were pawing at him, asking him to sign things, asking him personal questions like how many hours a day he worked out, and if he were free that night. Several large, metallic men with the words "Security" inscribed on them started to push the people back. "Please keep your distance," said one of them, bored, or at least reciting words that were overly rehearsed. "Don't want the gladiator hurt before the match."
"No, no, no," said Angelico, pushing the guard back. "These are my fans. I owe it to them to greet each one. Let them come forward." The guard would have shrugged if his shoulders could move that way. He stepped back, giving Angelico and the crowd their space. Angelico stated he would not leave until everyone had an autograph, and he was true to his word. The start of the match was delayed. After they all had their chance to greet him, ask a question, and in some cases have their picture taken with him, they went to find their seats and watch from a distance.
He walked to the entry gate which was actually just a small doorway. The announcer was at a table, not four feet from where Angelico stood. He liked the announcers to be hidden, it made it more mysterious. This broke the illusion.
"Our first combatant is an angel originating from the planet Earth. He stands at five feet eleven inches and is joining us after a recent match on the Ophidian circuit. Let's cheer for The Guardian of the People...Angelico!"
Angelico entered the dirt-covered arena, smaller than any he'd fought in (professionally). He raised both hands to greet everyone, and even blew a couple of kisses. The stands lived up to their name as every spectator was on their feet, applauding. He first thought it was so cheap that everyone had to stand. But no, later he saw they had benches. They were really giving him a standing ovation. He spread his wings, danced around, and reluctantly bowed, to start the calming down process. He only hoped his opponent didn't get a better response.
The announcer continued, "Opposing tonight is a demon released from prison far too early, so he might start a career where his murderous talents could be of some use. From Morten, standing six feet ten inches, the dark one simply known as Shadowed." The last word was hissed into the microphone, causing some static.
Shadowed slipped out of the darkness of his doorway, previously unseen. The crowd was still standing, only this time they were booing. "Finally, the respect I deserve," whispered Angelico to himself.
The booing stopped, and the crowd sat down, but there was still a lot of noise as they talked amongst themselves. A referee stood between Angelico and Shadowed, shouted a long-winded warning and stepped out of the way. If there had ever been a judge or referee that stepped into the arena in an Ophidian match, they were certainly dead by now.
Before the fight, Angelico had spoken to one of the employees of the arena and asked him to put his glaive, a metal pole pointed at both ends, into the arena. He didn't like to come in carrying weapons; he liked to pretend he was improvising. Angelico spotted it and was slowly making his way over to it, keeping his eyes on Shadowed.
Shadowed didn't move and just stared back, emptily. He was a solid black, and in the setting sun, barely stood out against the darkening background. His first movement since the match began was a flick of his fingers. Claws extended on each one simultaneously. He was about to do something. Angelico wasn't going to wait and find out what.
With two flaps of his wings, Angelico was airborne in the direction of the glaive. This started Shadowed on the move. With claws ready to strike, he spotted Angelico's destination and headed there.
Angelico reached the weapon first, but only seconds before. There was no time to position the glaive correctly, Angelico had to swing wildly. The point jabbed Shadowed in the stomach and bounced off of him without a bit of damage. Angelico lost control and the glaive flew off behind him. He wondered if it was armor or extremely tough skin that was so impenetrable. He saw the claws coming for him, and the question slipped his mind. Self-preservation was his only thought. With a jump, he was in the air again.
Shadowed flicked his wrist and a spiked disk, not unlike a ninja star, flew out. It passed easily through the wax of Angelico's right-wing. He was unable to keep afloat on the winds with this hole, and dropped to the ground, landing on his knees and hands, skinning them. The dust around him was kicked up as Shadowed landed over him, a foot on either side. There was a whip of the air as the claws dropped on him. Angelico spun around onto his back, catching the hands that came for him. He held them off, but he didn't know for how long.
"I have a proposition for you," sizzled a voice from Shadowed's mouthless face. "I'll throw the match, but you'll partner with me."
"What makes you think I need you to throw the match?"
Shadowed's arm escaped Angelico's grasp and sunk to the ground. Angelico moved out of its way and felt nothing until the settling dust stung. A large cut now adorned Angelico's arm, blood dripping forth. Shadowed brought his claws down again, allowing Angelico to hold them off.
"Next time it'll be across your neck."
Angelico, yet again, was defeated. He could only negotiate with his opponent, but this time, the negotiation seemed more in his favor. "Ok, I'm listening, what's the deal?"
"I just told you. I throw it, we team-up. We'll talk later." There was static to Shadowed's words like he was broadcasting on a radio that was losing reception. Angelico thought he might have been a robot.
Angelico shrugged. "Ok." Shadowed wiggled a hand free. With the sudden absence of the burden on his hand, Angelico's palm sprung upwards and hit Shadowed in the face. He flew back as if there was a lot of power behind the slap. Angelico was sure his hand hurt worse than Shadowed's face.
Shadowed skidded on his back across the dirt ways, digging a shallow trench. Angelico strode confidently towards Shadowed's fallen body, feeling immortal. He stood over him, looking down, wondering what he should do next. Shadowed brought his feet straight up, kicking with them together. Angelico just stepped out of the way.
The next move was for the fans. As Shadowed was standing up, Angelico stepped onto his back and jumped. He flapped his wings, but only the left one provided any elevation. Had he had both wings, he would've done a double summersault before coming down, but given the circumstance, he could only do one crooked roll on the way up. His foot barely above Shadowed's head, he came down in a drop-kick, landing it right between Shadowed's neck and shoulder. Such a move won him the Volke battle recently. It knocks out the opponent without killing them. Shadowed probably would've been unaffected, as his plastic-like exterior didn't seem to let any damage like this through. But there was an agreement in place, and rather than let this ballet go on any longer, Shadowed fell to the ground, and didn't move.
The fans went wild. Angelico danced around, showed off his wings, and waved. The announcer shouted his name as the winner, the referee came out and shook his hand, and he was invited to several parties. Those Dogmorians really know how to party.
Angelico interrupted The Slug's phone call by slamming a newspaper down on his desk. "Have you seen this?"
"I'll have to call you back, an important client just walked in." This ended his phone call. "Now, what is it you want?"
"Have you seen today's headlines?" shrieked Angelico. As he wasn't fighting today, he was dressed. He wore jeans, a large sweater cut down the back, so his wings could free themselves, and tennis shoes.
The Slug looked over the first page of the paper, soaking it in his slime. "There's no mention of you."
"Exactly. Now, turn to page G-11."
"Oh, here you are, 'Daniel Dis-Grace.' "
"It's bad enough they haven't forgotten my past...but at least they could broadcast it on the first page. There's no picture of me, not even one of me lying there bloody and defeated. I'm a nobody."
"Well, maybe this will lift your spirits. I got a fight for you."
"Another Ophidian opening act?"
"Nope, you're the main event."
"In the Ophidian circuit?"
"Not exactly, it's a Dogma match."
"What's the Dogma match?"
"An off off-circuit tournament."
Angelico threw his hands in the air dramatically. "It's one of those that the nobodies are too good to compete in?"
"Actually, it's where the somebody’s start out."
This caught Angelico's attention. "Really? Like who?"
"Well..." The Slug turned around, muffling his last words. Angelico strained to listen but knew there was nothing to be heard.
Angelico sighed, defeated. "All right, whom am I fighting?"
"An unknown fighter..."
"An ex-con who chose to fight rather than go to prison because he's got a vendetta?"
"Pretty much. Comes from Morten. A lot of security travels with him. Supposed to be dangerous."
"Well, that's something."
"Never fought in the arena, but the people he's gone up against on the outside...well, be glad you're in more controlled circumstances."
"Fine, fine, dangerous, unknown, got it. Just arrange it." He paused, staring at The Slug. Finally, he asked, "Did you know Lothar was going to substitute?"
"What?" asked The Slug. His "surprise" performance was cheap and campy. Conveniently the phone rang. "Show yourself out, will you? I have to take this." Angelico left, his question almost answered.
Dogma was a small moon with a total population less than most cities. The turnout for the match was one-fifteenth what his Ophidian match was the other day. "Fewer people to see me lose," he said to himself, leaving the dressing room. Before he walked into the spotlight he did a final inspection on his curly blond hair, body glitter, and the small loincloth he called his uniform. He took one last glance at his toned muscles in a mirror and was ready to show off.
He walked down an outside corridor towards the arena. It seemed deserted, and he had a momentary fear it was a set up...another one. To his surprise, an alien, which looked human except with extra appendages, shouted, "It's Angelico!" Suddenly he and a crowd of nearly thirty others rushed to greet the gladiator. They were composed of many species and races, quite a few appeared to be half breeds.
Angelico stood tall, lifted his half-folded wings majestically, and put out his arms in a welcoming manner. "Hello, my fans."
They were pawing at him, asking him to sign things, asking him personal questions like how many hours a day he worked out, and if he were free that night. Several large, metallic men with the words "Security" inscribed on them started to push the people back. "Please keep your distance," said one of them, bored, or at least reciting words that were overly rehearsed. "Don't want the gladiator hurt before the match."
"No, no, no," said Angelico, pushing the guard back. "These are my fans. I owe it to them to greet each one. Let them come forward." The guard would have shrugged if his shoulders could move that way. He stepped back, giving Angelico and the crowd their space. Angelico stated he would not leave until everyone had an autograph, and he was true to his word. The start of the match was delayed. After they all had their chance to greet him, ask a question, and in some cases have their picture taken with him, they went to find their seats and watch from a distance.
He walked to the entry gate which was actually just a small doorway. The announcer was at a table, not four feet from where Angelico stood. He liked the announcers to be hidden, it made it more mysterious. This broke the illusion.
"Our first combatant is an angel originating from the planet Earth. He stands at five feet eleven inches and is joining us after a recent match on the Ophidian circuit. Let's cheer for The Guardian of the People...Angelico!"
Angelico entered the dirt-covered arena, smaller than any he'd fought in (professionally). He raised both hands to greet everyone, and even blew a couple of kisses. The stands lived up to their name as every spectator was on their feet, applauding. He first thought it was so cheap that everyone had to stand. But no, later he saw they had benches. They were really giving him a standing ovation. He spread his wings, danced around, and reluctantly bowed, to start the calming down process. He only hoped his opponent didn't get a better response.
The announcer continued, "Opposing tonight is a demon released from prison far too early, so he might start a career where his murderous talents could be of some use. From Morten, standing six feet ten inches, the dark one simply known as Shadowed." The last word was hissed into the microphone, causing some static.
Shadowed slipped out of the darkness of his doorway, previously unseen. The crowd was still standing, only this time they were booing. "Finally, the respect I deserve," whispered Angelico to himself.
The booing stopped, and the crowd sat down, but there was still a lot of noise as they talked amongst themselves. A referee stood between Angelico and Shadowed, shouted a long-winded warning and stepped out of the way. If there had ever been a judge or referee that stepped into the arena in an Ophidian match, they were certainly dead by now.
Before the fight, Angelico had spoken to one of the employees of the arena and asked him to put his glaive, a metal pole pointed at both ends, into the arena. He didn't like to come in carrying weapons; he liked to pretend he was improvising. Angelico spotted it and was slowly making his way over to it, keeping his eyes on Shadowed.
Shadowed didn't move and just stared back, emptily. He was a solid black, and in the setting sun, barely stood out against the darkening background. His first movement since the match began was a flick of his fingers. Claws extended on each one simultaneously. He was about to do something. Angelico wasn't going to wait and find out what.
With two flaps of his wings, Angelico was airborne in the direction of the glaive. This started Shadowed on the move. With claws ready to strike, he spotted Angelico's destination and headed there.
Angelico reached the weapon first, but only seconds before. There was no time to position the glaive correctly, Angelico had to swing wildly. The point jabbed Shadowed in the stomach and bounced off of him without a bit of damage. Angelico lost control and the glaive flew off behind him. He wondered if it was armor or extremely tough skin that was so impenetrable. He saw the claws coming for him, and the question slipped his mind. Self-preservation was his only thought. With a jump, he was in the air again.
Shadowed flicked his wrist and a spiked disk, not unlike a ninja star, flew out. It passed easily through the wax of Angelico's right-wing. He was unable to keep afloat on the winds with this hole, and dropped to the ground, landing on his knees and hands, skinning them. The dust around him was kicked up as Shadowed landed over him, a foot on either side. There was a whip of the air as the claws dropped on him. Angelico spun around onto his back, catching the hands that came for him. He held them off, but he didn't know for how long.
"I have a proposition for you," sizzled a voice from Shadowed's mouthless face. "I'll throw the match, but you'll partner with me."
"What makes you think I need you to throw the match?"
Shadowed's arm escaped Angelico's grasp and sunk to the ground. Angelico moved out of its way and felt nothing until the settling dust stung. A large cut now adorned Angelico's arm, blood dripping forth. Shadowed brought his claws down again, allowing Angelico to hold them off.
"Next time it'll be across your neck."
Angelico, yet again, was defeated. He could only negotiate with his opponent, but this time, the negotiation seemed more in his favor. "Ok, I'm listening, what's the deal?"
"I just told you. I throw it, we team-up. We'll talk later." There was static to Shadowed's words like he was broadcasting on a radio that was losing reception. Angelico thought he might have been a robot.
Angelico shrugged. "Ok." Shadowed wiggled a hand free. With the sudden absence of the burden on his hand, Angelico's palm sprung upwards and hit Shadowed in the face. He flew back as if there was a lot of power behind the slap. Angelico was sure his hand hurt worse than Shadowed's face.
Shadowed skidded on his back across the dirt ways, digging a shallow trench. Angelico strode confidently towards Shadowed's fallen body, feeling immortal. He stood over him, looking down, wondering what he should do next. Shadowed brought his feet straight up, kicking with them together. Angelico just stepped out of the way.
The next move was for the fans. As Shadowed was standing up, Angelico stepped onto his back and jumped. He flapped his wings, but only the left one provided any elevation. Had he had both wings, he would've done a double summersault before coming down, but given the circumstance, he could only do one crooked roll on the way up. His foot barely above Shadowed's head, he came down in a drop-kick, landing it right between Shadowed's neck and shoulder. Such a move won him the Volke battle recently. It knocks out the opponent without killing them. Shadowed probably would've been unaffected, as his plastic-like exterior didn't seem to let any damage like this through. But there was an agreement in place, and rather than let this ballet go on any longer, Shadowed fell to the ground, and didn't move.
The fans went wild. Angelico danced around, showed off his wings, and waved. The announcer shouted his name as the winner, the referee came out and shook his hand, and he was invited to several parties. Those Dogmorians really know how to party.
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