After the Second Fall Pt. 01.2

Riding back to the Complex, Pip wasn't any more talkative than usual, but John could tell that the young Adam had enjoyed himself: his body language said he was relaxed, and the corner of his mouth kept turning up, either reflecting on some incident during the practice session or looking forward to the upcoming contest. Either way, Pip looked comfortable with himself, which had not been common in the recent past.

All it took, John reflected ironically, was for him to have the opportunity to beat up on smaller men. John immediately regretted this thought as unworthy of Pip. After all, Pip had killed a bigger Adam recently, and didn't take any joy from that whatsoever. No, it was likely the sense of comradery that had already started to develop by the end of the practice; John actually had to intervene when Pip tried to accept an invitation to accompany the team back to a bar in the Third Quarter.

Three days later, John was once again sitting with Lilith to watch Pip perform, this time as part of Third Quarter West. Pip's team stood barefoot, dressed in scarlet, but not uniformly, as each player had chosen what to wear. Most had on long shorts and sleeveless shirts, while Pip and several others had opted to go shirtless. For Pip, this was actually Director Collins' suggestion, a clear attempt to draw attention to him.

Directly across the pitch was a team in gray called VTE, short for Vigorous-Tenacious-Enduring; the lack of color denoted that they were a mixed squad, with members from throughout the city. On the left were Rieckenburg Q2, dressed in dark blue, the reigning champions. On the right, also from the Second Quarter, was Center Second dressed in light blue, Q2's chief rivals. It was obvious, even to a casual fan like Lilith, that the members of Pip's team were not generally as large, nor as disciplined, as the members of the other teams. On the other hand, the men dressed in scarlet looked confident and had an energy about them that the other teams lacked. Small wonder, really, given that Pip stood at the front. With his imposing size and incredible musculature, accented by thin scarlet bands around both arms and a third around his forehead, as well as the huge black tattoo, he looked awesome in both the good and terrible senses of the word.

Looking at the four corners of the pitch, Director Collins reassured herself one final time that her media team was in place to capture the game. Like most of the bigger contests, this match would be broadcast live; however, the addition of the Complex's Public Relations team would make this a more professional looking event for viewers not in physical attendance.

As the head referee and his four assistants walked onto the pitch, the crowd came to life, shouting for their respective teams. Fully at the stadium's capacity, the noise was something that she had only previously heard during particularly raucous protests some ten years before. Lilith felt a thrill rush up her spine and down her arms, and instinctively sat forward in her seat while grabbing John's knee.

John frequently attended these games and was not so affected, but he did smile at Lilith's anxiety. "He'll be alright," he said confidently. Lilith nodded, but didn't remove her hand, which tightened when a whistle blew to start the game.

Contrary to John's prediction, Pip started as an attacker and raced across the pitch. With his longer legs and superior athleticism, he reached the ball first, but rather than reaching down to pick it up, he kicked it forcefully with his bare foot without breaking stride into the face of the closest gray shirted opponent, who immediately dropped backward, stunned. While the rest of the players were watching the upward path of the ball, Pip hurled himself sideways into a wall of gray, taking three players over backwards in a tangle of limbs. By the time Pip got back on his knees, his teammates had shown up and were actively tackling the standing gray shirts that had rushed forward.

Meanwhile, the dark blue squad picked up the ball and rushed toward the gray net, sensing a chance to quickly eliminate an opponent. They formed a six man wedge with the ball carrier in the center of the back row. Their light blue rivals soon joined in, swelling the wedge size to eleven. The man at the front, huge and dark, bellowed what could easily pass for a war cry as they crashed into the gray defenders. The entire crowd gasped as the gray team was driven back into their net, despite their best efforts. When it became clear that the ball had indeed entered the goal, the head referee blew his whistle.

While the assistant referees rushed over to untangle bodies, the crowd continued to cheer; even the fans cheering for the gray side applauded the valiant, although short-lived defense. When it was sorted, one man still laid on the pitch, too injured to rise, and a stretcher quickly entered to carry him off. As the gray team filed out, three more men exited the pitch nursing injuries of their own. The two blue teams were brought back to their full compliments by substitutes; no one from Pip's team had been injured significantly during the first exchange.

Up in the seats, Lilith's hand finally started to relax as the remaining teams took their starting positions again. She sat back in her seat, which caused her hand to slide up John's leg. After a few heartbeats, Lilith said, "That was much more violent in person."

John nodded, "Yeah, that was a bad one. Pip did well, though. If he hadn't handicapped VTE so badly -- that's the gray team -- there's a good chance the other teams would have joined up, rather than the slow game of attrition they usually play."

"Why is that?"

"Pip," said John simply. "Doesn't he look like the biggest threat down there?"

Lilith nodded, understanding the point. "So the blue teams will cooperate again now?"

"If they get a chance. They have to get the ball first; otherwise, they're not really allowed to attack. I doubt they've got anybody that will get there before Pip, but we'll see. Look: the head referee is ready to start again." As before, Lilith's hand gripped tightly.

Pip was once again tearing across the pitch as soon as the whistle blew, quickly covering ground. However, the light blue team had brought in a tall, wiry man as a substitute, who was also fast approaching the ball with impressive speed. As the brief race's conclusion drew near, Pip saw that he would win, but just barely. In a surprise move, the other man dove, fully extended, just as Pip was reaching down for the ball. The smaller man's fist reached their shared target first and punched it forward just before Pip's hand made contact; unfortunately for the man, his maneuver put his head in line with Pip's right shin. Pip felt the contact, but suffered no injury as the man's neck gave way easily; he didn't spare a glance as he checked his momentum, trying to see where the ball had gone.

The desperate tactic was clearly planned, as the two blue teams had already joined together into another huge wedge, this time with fourteen attackers. Back at their own net, the scarlet side, Second Quarter West, had formed their own block with all eleven remaining members staying behind as Pip made his initial run. Slowing time so he could fully assess the situation, Pip saw that it might just be possible to overtake the wedge, if he was able to get up to full speed fast enough. Exerting the Effect to its fullest, he began to sprint, using all of the force he could muster, focusing muscle group by muscle group as he had been practicing with Max. In less than three heartbeats of real time, Pip was already at his top speed. When he judged the distance to be correct, he performed his own dive toward the rear of the wedge.

Pip's momentum drove him into the ball carrier at the back, plowing the man forward into his teammates, who also toppled forward as their legs were caught from behind. The wedge stuttered and fell apart just as the front of the scarlet line drove forward to absorb the impact. The crash of bodies was extreme and drew shocked gasps from around the stands, but Pip didn't notice as he wrestled the ball from the previous carrier and started back across the pitch toward the light blue net.

Isolated from his team, Pip knew that it wasn't a sure thing that he would score; the remaining five defenders were big, experienced players, conditioned to work as a team. They were already forming up to try to break Pip's headlong rush, tightly spaced with three in front and two in back. As he approached at a full sprint, Pip dropped his head, lowered his shoulder, and planted his right foot less than a body length from the defenders, pivoting hard to his left. The group toppled forward, expecting force and receiving none. With the goal now undefended, Pip trotted into the net and set the ball down at the back before jogging back toward the center of the pitch, where three men in medic uniforms were already examining the fallen man. With the play stopped, the crowd began to take more notice, and a hush settled over the arena. Most of the players had now made their way and stood in a loose circle, waiting for the prognosis.

After a hundred heartbeats, the lead medic looked up and nodded to the head referee, who nodded back; Pip breathed a sigh of relief. The man in light blue was starting to come around as he was gently laid on a stretcher and lifted. The crowd noise rose again, and when the man gave a positive signal with his hand, the cheering grew dramatically from all four sides. Pip quickly trotted over and spoke a few words of encouragement before the man was carried off. One of the man's teammates walked up to Pip, where a quick conversation ended with a handshake, before the smaller man departed with the rest of his team.

Lilith looked up from the unfolding drama to see John sitting with his arms folded, a smug smile on his face. "He's a good kid, John."

"Yes, he is," John replied, playing the proud father. "And did you see that goal he scored?"

"Was it that good?" she asked playfully.

"Definitely yes. There isn't a man on the planet that could have done what he just did." Forgetting himself, John reached around and pulled Lilith close. When her warm body gently impacted his own, he froze, realizing what he had just done. Nothing happened for five heartbeats, then she leaned into him, resting her head against his side. The tension in his shoulders released and he looked down at her to find that she was smiling up at him. They held eye contact for a moment, and then she looked back down to the pitch where the two remaining teams were getting ready and squeezed his leg again. The scarlet players were jubilant, bouncing and chatting; conversely, the dark blue team was huddled tightly, clearly discussing their strategy.

The head referee walked toward the center of the arena and the two teams took their starting positions -- Pip was once again positioned at the front, ready to race for the ball. The whistle sounded and he sprinted for the third time. Reaching the ball first easily, he turned to see that the entire blue squad had charged toward the center. Seeing their net undefended, Pip turned and heaved the ball in its direction. The entire arena fell silent as the spectators watched it arc beautifully through the air, then bounce, bounce again, and enter the net. Pip raised his arms in victory and turned toward his team, who didn't look nearly as happy, pointing just behind him. Pip turned just in time to see two blue players lower their shoulders and crash into him.

Even as he slowed time, there was nothing Pip could do to avoid being tackled roughly and driven to the ground. As his legs left the arena sand, the crowd gasped collectively, amazed at the site; while Pip berated himself for not paying attention to his opponents, he worked urgently to rotate his hips so that instead of landing on his back he hit on his right hip and shoulder. As a result, he didn't lose the air in his lungs and was able to quickly roll on top of the two attackers. His superior position was short-lived, however, as the rest of the blue team crashed into him from behind.

Caught in the bottom of the melee, Pip was on the receiving end of repeated blows; fortunately, the limited space in the pile prevented most of them from being significant. Even as he began to make progress toward breaking free, a tremendous strike landed cleanly on his right side, maybe even cracking a rib. Despite the pain, Pip's mind was still working -- the only explanations that made sense were either a leaping knee or elbow strike -- which seemed unlikely -- or that they had brought weapons into the arena. The latter theory was confirmed a heartbeat later when Pip felt a blade slice across the back of his right arm, agonizing as it moved in slow motion.

Prior to the fight, Lilith had made it very clear that Pip was not to intentionally harm opposing players, as it would make him out to be a bully; rather, the point was to demonstrate how superior he was to some of the toughest men in Rieckenburg. Now, however, these men had apparently decided to disregard the rules, which put them squarely within his normal arena.

In the stands, John had started to rise at the first tackle, only to be pulled back down by Lilith. He could have disengaged, but it was clear that she had something in mind. "Wait," she said. John eased back down, but remained tense, ready to race down into the arena if it looked like Pip was in over his head; down below, two retired Adams from the Complex -- the security Lilith had lined up -- entered the pitch, but also waited.

Directly in front of Lilith and John, Pip's scarlet teammates stood, watching the fight play out, making no move to intervene. The referees, knowing this was beyond them, fled.

In the pile, Pip began to use his fists, elbows, knees, feet, and even head, to deliver blows to whoever he could reach. Once again focusing on individual muscle groups, he was able to deliver powerful strikes without long wind ups. From the outside it didn't look like much was happening, until a man on the top of the pile rolled off, screaming as blood streamed from his nose and mouth. Then a second man spun off of the pile, collapsing in the dirt, followed by another who dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.

With the weight of the pile reduced, Pip rolled, heaving the remaining men off his back while he regained his feet, panting with exertion. Blood flowed from his nose and ran from multiple slices on his arm and side. The crowd gasped as Pip roared, only to have the men in blue charge forward again. Pip kicked and a man collapsed; he punched and a different man fell backward. There were now seven men standing, facing their giant opponent, as the door behind their net opened and six more men dressed in dark blue charged into the arena, armed with much more obvious weapons.

Lilith once again restrained John with the hand on his thigh, saying only a single word: "Watch." To convince him, she moved her hand to the front of his pants, squeezing. John looked down at her with wide eyes, uncomprehending; in response she just flicked her head toward the arena. John, utterly flabbergasted, did as she indicated.

Down on the pitch, Pip saw the new arrivals and looked around for his own weapon. Seeing only a small black blade and what appeared to be a set of welded metal rings, Pip opted for the most outlandish measure he could devise in short notice. Bending down, he grabbed the legs of the man who he had knocked unconscious and hefted him over his shoulder. Pip began to swing his massive new club at the men in blue closest to him, causing them to dive out of the way, or run in different directions. When two collided, he kicked one squarely in the ass while the other crawled away.

Up in the stands, many of the audience members were covering their faces or turning away, refusing to look at such an awful spectacle, and then surreptitiously looking anyway. As the Q2 team was re-enforced, a sense of anticipation built. Down in the arena, Pip dropped the body he had been holding, and called out to the men in blue, although it wasn't loud enough for the spectators to hear. An exchange followed and suspense built further. Finally, a man with two long knives stepped forward and the crowd quieted.

John smiled, seeing what Pip had done; Lilith's hand moved more aggressively at his groin.

The man in blue spun his knives expertly, tracing intricate patterns while Pip waited calmly in a generic fighting stance. The man came forward, knives now in a ready position with one forward and the other back; still Pip waited, motionless. The man made a thrust, which Pip knocked away easily, then another, and another. Pip's longer reach made it impossible for him to land any stabs, so the man started slicing cuts. These were harder for Pip, and he had to dodge rapidly, almost getting cut several times as the man became more aggressive. A particularly crafty slice drew a line of red across Pip's side and he took three long strides backward quickly, trying to put distance between them. The smaller man grinned and narrowed his eyes, sensing fear.

Seeing that he could not forever escape the knives, Pip took a stride forward and threw a huge hammer fist with his right hand. Such a blow would easily have crushed the man's skull, but this particular man was too fast: spreading his legs into a firm stance while while raising his knives to catch the huge arm now falling, he was prepared for the strike.

In slow time, Pip easily stopped his arm's momentum and instead kicked with his right leg, catching the man cleanly in the genitals while shattering his pelvis from below. The audience saw the man drop, screaming, while holding himself. The awful, bone chilling cries only stopped when he started vomiting, his voice choked off by bile and blood.

Pip was once again talking, but this time there was no dialogue as the men dressed in blue decided what to do. When one of them turned and started back toward the door through which he had entered, the pressure that had been building began leaking out of the entire stadium like a deflating balloon. The remaining men in blue started to help, or carry, their injured teammates back the same way; two, including the man with the knives, were left to lie.

Bending and picking up one of the long knives, Pip started toward his own team, clearly unhappy, and the pressure in the stadium started to build again; even the men in dark blue paused to see what transpired. When he was several paces away, Pip threw the knife down so that it stuck into the sand all the way to the bolster. Pip began yelling at them, so loud that John could hear parts of words. Eventually they resolved into, "Pick it up!", which was repeated several times. When none of them moved, Pip grabbed the man closest to him and dragged him by his arm ten paces toward the center of the pitch, tossing him down. He then moved off an additional five paces and turned, facing the man, who had not risen to his feet.

Pip shouted something and the man curled up into a ball. Another shout, probably a threat, and the man slowly rose up, with his hands held forward. Pip said one more thing, quieter this time, and the man's arms dropped. Drawing himself up to his full height, the man in scarlet pushed his shoulders back, and took a deep breath, raising his arms as if he was preparing for a fight.

John gripped the front of his seat tightly, his whole body tense. "Do it," Lilith whispered toward Pip.

Pip walked purposefully toward the man and pulled back his fist. In response, the man held up his hands and turned his head away, losing courage at the last moment; it didn't stop Pip's fist, which connected squarely with the smaller man's temple.

John's entire body released its tension at once, causing him to cry out as he jerked in his seat. Lilith smiled, thoroughly satisfied with how events had played out, while wiping her hand on John's thigh and then standing. "What the hell was that about?" John finally managed to get out.