After the Second Fall Pt. 01.3

"But isn't that more-or-less the same thing? So what if it's Stash fighting Presto instead of me?"

"Come on, Pip, use your head. Can you beat Stash?" Pip shrugged and nodded. "Can you beat Presto?"

"Maybe. I certainly think I can."

"Right. So can Stash beat Presto?"

Pip thought about it, then shook his head. "I doubt it. Anything is possible in an Arena fight, but it's not very likely.

"Alright, I see your point. So do you figure this happened because they saw the rally video?"

John nodded. "Almost certainly. If I had to take a guess, I would say that they've seen somebody like you before. Maybe like Loren, or maybe an Adam -- it doesn't actually matter. What you showed in that video was unnatural quickness, and they know it, so they chose not to underestimate you."

"I see," said Pip. "Is it time to let the Council know?"

John took a deep breath and released it. "Lilith asked me the same thing, but I'm not sure. At the very least, I want to wait until after this fight, and then make a decision. They're so wound up about the bone density topic that another paradigm shift might cause somebody to have an aneurysm."

"You know I told Maggie?"

"I figured. I won't tell you that it would have been my recommendation, but she needed something to hold onto to know that you really trust her. Things are better now?"

Pip nodded. "Very good. Better than before, actually."

"Glad to hear it." Standing up, John patted Pip on the shoulder. "If you don't want to talk more about the fight, I think the best thing you can do is go spend time with her and the other two. I can't think of a single other thing that is going to help you prepare for Presto."

Chapter 24

Instead of charging into the Arena, Pip took three purposeful strides and stopped, assessing. Across the sand, as if they had planned such a moment, Presto did the same. Of course, the latter covered more distance, which amounted to what would be almost a full stride more than Pip.

Without preamble, Presto called out, "It was disingenuous to mock Timber to cover up your theft."

Pip responded with a brief shake of his head. "I was entirely genuine. I respect the skill he showed and hoped to relay that appropriately. The other part was necessary, and my right as the victor -- I will not apologize."

The larger man stared intently for half a hundred beats, then abruptly relaxed. "I believe you." He then backed toward the door behind him, and sat down, legs crossed, leaning backward. "They allow a full bell for these fights, which is always too much. If it suits you, I would prefer to talk for the first half. Then we can try to kill each other like we're supposed to do."

Pip was intrigued, but also wary, so he didn't back up, instead squatting down into a resting posture with his arms wrapped around his knees with his head propped on top. "Agreed, but the first quarter only, and if I feel like you're playing head games, it ends."

"Fair enough," replied Presto with his arms stretched wide. "Then if you'll allow me, I have a question in mind. How is it you can move so fast?"

Pip managed a slight shrug. "I was born this way, but that's all I'll say. I won't give you an advantage, just because you asked."

Presto gave a brief laugh. "Yeah, I thought that would be the case, but I had to try. When I saw the video of you dodging bullets -- most of them anyway," he said with a wink, "I was so fascinated. For what it's worth, I had nothing to do with that shooter. You may not believe that, but I believe in the Arena. Otherwise, my entire life has been a waste."

Pip nodded, "On this, we agree."

The big blonde man grinned. "You know, I tried to replicate what you did. I had one of the trainers get a gun, and shoot it at my hand to see if I could get it out of the way. Same range, same general setup, except I knew it was coming." He held up his left hand where a wound was still healing between the third and fourth metacarpals. "It didn't work very well." He paused, then his grin broadened into a full smile. "I don't think I've ever seen my main trainer so pissed. That alone was probably worth it." The smile faltered, then slipped away. "If I didn't know better," he shook his head disbelievingly, "I would have said the entire thing was staged."

Pip held up his own arm, showing his not-quite-healed wound. Presto nodded and waved acceptance.

"You know what I think?" Presto asked rhetorically. "I think you somehow process information faster than everyone else. I don't know how that is possible, but it's the only thing I can come up with. I've studied that fucking tape a hundred times, and I went step-by-step through Timber's autopsy with the doctors. Nothing else fits, because even us modified bastards still have reaction times of about point-oh-eight seconds." Pip raised his eyebrows, so the other explained. "That's an archaic measurement term for time. It's more precise than talking in beats and bells, so it's what the white-coats use. The important thing is that to dodge bullets, your reaction time has to be a tenth of that, or maybe even less. I talked that over with them, and they tell me it's a physical impossibility."

Pip just shrugged again, declining to respond.

"Okay, so not super talkative. Understandable given the present circumstances, so since we still have a few minutes -- that's another one of those white-coat time terms -- you ask me something. I will be as truthful as I can."

Pip waited only a few beats before asking, "Do you think you can beat me?"

A smile immediately returned to his opponent's face. "Oh, I like this question very much." He rubbed his hands together. "Very much.

"The short answer, is 'yes.' The longer answer is, 'yes, but I hope that you will at least put up a good fight."

"Why so confident?" asked Pip with genuine curiosity.

"You know how many times I've been to this Arena?" Pip nodded. "Do you know how many of those I was ever in danger of losing." Pip didn't respond, so after letting the tension build dramatically, Presto continued, "Not a single one." Pip raised his eyebrow again, and Presto gladly continued. "There were good fighters, and I won't deny that a couple of them injured me, but the actual outcome of the fights was never in doubt."

Presto paused, considering how to continue. "I assume you know about my... durability." Again, Pip didn't respond in any way. "Well, until two weeks ago, that was our city's most closely guarded secret. Even other cities' fighters that are as big as me and as strong as me, can't go toe-to-toe with me and expect to last. They used to talk about a puncher's chance, and that just doesn't apply when the opponent is me." The same wolfish, aggressive smile that Pip had seen two weeks before appeared. "The truth is, you were dead the moment you arrived here. I bet you're not even half my weight, which means the first time I hit you will be the last time I hit you. The only question for me is how long it will take."

As if on cue, the ceiling changed from white to blue, signaling the match was a quarter over.

"Oh well," said Presto as he smoothly rose to his feet, "all good things must come to an end. Anything you want me to tell that hot brunette of yours?"

"Nah," said Pip confidently as he also rose, "I'll tell her myself."

Presto's eyes narrowed, not liking the confidence that Pip was showing. Without further preamble, he began to move forward in a fighting stance, left leg leading. Pip also had his left foot forward, but in a much more neutral stance, while electing to hold his ground. This surprised the older, more experienced fighter, as fight doctrine argued for circling away from an opponent's dominant hand. Of course, Presto was fully ambidextrous, but departure from established norms was still odd.

Stopping a pace and a half from Pip, Presto rocked lightly on his feet, ready for whatever trick Pip had in mind. When nothing happened for a hundred count, Presto quickly surged forward with a jab step and corresponding left hand. Of course, Pip had slowed his perception of time, so he saw that the range of the punch was slightly off, allowing him to drop his right shoulder slightly and avoid the punch entirely, without actually moving much. After throwing the punch, Presto quickly regained his fighting stance at the previous spacing. His predatory smile came back again. "You are really fucking fast. I think this is going to be a challenge after all."

Even as he was finishing the sentence, Presto was already moving forward again, this time with a shuffle to keep his legs under him so as to put more power in his strikes. A flurry of punches soon followed from both hands: jabs and crosses, all thrown with the ability to end the match immediately. On the receiving end, Pip bobbed and weaved and occasionally used one of his hands to redirect a punch -- Presto's range was now perfect.

Having failed to hit the smaller man again, Presto once again retreated, face angry and red, as he alternated breathing and swearing. Regaining his composure, he came forward a third time, adding knees, elbows, and kicks to the mix. Even with time slowed, it took a tremendous amount of skill for Pip to avoid the strikes, because Presto's reach was so much longer.

It was a wheel kick from Presto's right leg that sent Pip stumbling backwards, although it didn't actually connect. The larger man, eager to finally capitalize, charged forward and threw a tremendous left hand, intending to confirm his boast and end the fight with a single blow. Pip, having feigned the stumble, saw Presto overextend like he had hoped. As he stepped to his right, Pip caught the strike at the wrist with his left hand and slammed into the back side of Presto's elbow with his open right palm, then leaped away quickly. With a roar of pain, Presto swung his now ruined arm in a wide ark, not even close to Pip.

With the smaller man now some distance away, Presto stumbled toward the wall at its closest point and leaned against it for support. Pip let time resume its normal course and assessed the situation. His opponent was breathing heavily and was red in the face from the combination of adrenaline, anger, exertion, and a lot of pain.

Becoming the aggressor, Pip moved forward slowly, arms up in case Presto lunged at him again. With time progressing slowly, there was no need for Pip to size up his opponent from close range, so it looked to Presto like the smaller man just walked up to him and starting firing punches. Presto simply took the punches on his now forward right arm, shrugging them off harmlessly, but in doing so he turned away from Pip to protect his left arm. The result was that Pip placed a well-timed left shin into the side of Presto's thigh.

The solid hit seemed to shock Presto back into the fight, and he moved forward with a counter strike, narrowly missing Pip's head. In return, Pip took the opportunity to plant his left fist into Presto's side, not hard enough to break ribs -- nor his own hand -- but certainly adequate to cause the desired effect: pain.

Presto once again backed toward the wall, and as before, Pip advanced. Now it was Presto who was trying to stay out of range, fighting defensively, as Pip continued to pepper him with strikes.

With only one arm functioning properly, Presto tried to keep Pip back with his long reach, mixing short and long jabs while always being careful not to overextend a second time. Consequently, the punches were not thrown as hard as they had been, and were much easier to dodge. Additionally, as the ceiling and walls turned from blue to yellow, Presto's fist was held noticeably lower as the strain of using a single arm repeatedly resulted in the rapid replacement of glucose with lactic acid.

Knowing that he still had half a bell, Pip was unhurried in pressing, and yet relentless. Changing his approach slightly, Pip switched primarily to kicking Presto's legs, as it offset the reach advantage of the larger man's arms. It was when Presto himself threw a punch, or kick, that Pip would use his hands and elbows to counter, always striking hard into the muscles and bone beneath.

As the room turned red, Presto was limping badly, barely able to put weight on his right leg, which was already a mottled red and purple mess. Similarly, Presto's right arm now regularly hung limp at his side, only raised to deflect an occasional higher strike. It was clear to both men that Presto was simply trying to survive. Following a particularly vicious kick to his right thigh, that knee dropped into the sand. Without the ability to once again stand, the nine-time winner rolled onto to his back next to the wall with his feet raised, ready to kick out when Pip came closer.

Pip actually paused and took a couple strides back, putting his hands on his hips. Shaking off his surprise at the unexpected approach, he stalked forward again, circling one direction and then the other. As Pip stepped toward the downed man's right side, Presto fired off a relatively weak upward kick -- the best he could do. Given that time was running out, Pip utilized his full strength and leverage of the Effect as he stomped down on the extended thigh. With an audible crack, Presto's femur broke, the result of microfractures that expanded and combined due to the dozens of strikes landed over the previous half bell.

With two limbs fully crippled and a third barely functioning, panic set in and Presto flailed wildly with his left leg. Without time remaining to methodically incapacitate the leg, Pip moved quickly from side to side, back and forth, as Presto continued to lash out frantically. Jumping to his left, past a wild kick, Pip brought his heel down once again, this time on the right side of Presto's pelvis in roughly the same spot as he had done to Timber. Again, bone broke and Presto howled.

The pain was such that the disabled man involuntarily rolled over onto his left side, trying to ease pressure as bone fragments moved around, causing damage to muscle, tendon, and ligament. With his opponent's back fully exposed, Pip took a step and then kicked Presto in the back of the neck.

Unfortunately for Presto, the final kick didn't immediately kill him, but it did stop virtually all function below the neck as partially fractured vertebrae cut into the spinal cord in several places. Thus, instead of the quick end that Pip had intended, the former champion spent his last moments fully aware that he couldn't breathe, mouth working to no effect.

When the doors opened, Pip immediately walked through, catching the doctor and his assistant as he did so, cutting off any questions before they could be asked. In doing so, the Northumberland support staff never got a good look at him, seeing just Pip's back as he went through the door. Only when the trio was inside the transport did Pip begin to answer questions.

No, he was not seriously hurt, but his right heel was bruised, as were his hands. Yes, their analysis had been correct about Presto's bones -- he was very durable, to use the fighter's own word. Yes, several of their ideas had worked.

Pip did not want to recap the fight multiple times again, so he requested that the doctor wait until the following day's debriefing with the council. Although Dr. Shepard was obviously disappointed, seeming almost like a boy waiting to open a present, the older man relented and Pip dozed lightly for the remainder of the return trip, waking only when cheers once again sounded outside the transport.

As always, John was waiting when the vehicle arrived at the Complex; uncharacteristically, Director Collins was not present beside him, nor were his girls. Pip stepped down and gave his handler a hug, after which John looked him over critically, including close examination of Pip's hands. Releasing them, John smiled broadly. "You're in even better shape than after the last fight. I take it you found a weakness?"

"Or two," Pip replied. "I'm looking forward to telling you, but not tonight. Tonight I want to see my girls, especially Maggie."

"Well..." John started dramatically.

"Okay," Pip sighed, "what's going on?"

John held out his arms, palms skyward. "Good news," he said motioning with his right hand, "or bad news?" repeating the movement with his left.

"Bad news."

John dropped his right arm. "In the event of a convincing victory -- meaning that you are still ambulatory and not seriously concussed or bleeding profusely," he smirked, "I am to bring you directly to the Council chambers for the debrief."

Pip was surprised. "Why?"

"It seems that the Executive Director has had enough of me keeping her in the dark regarding your particular, uh, skill set," said John without sounding disappointed. "I'm actually surprised she let it go this long without calling us to account."

"Okay, but why now?"

John shrugged and shook his head. "Probably because you're still breathing." Pip gave him a skeptical look. "Pip, the Executive Director is a smart lady, and I know she's been watching you closely. Now you just put down the best fighter in the world, and while I don't know any of the details yet, I don't see a scratch on you. I know how it's possible, and I'm still not sure I believe it. Consider her position and you can see why she might be a little impatient. There's probably also a component of not wanting to leave us alone too long to get our stories straight," he concluded with a smirk.

"What does she know so far?"

"The same as she did before."

"Really? You didn't tell her about the Effect already?" Pip asked in surprise.

"Nope," replied John, looking satisfied.

Pip shook his head and the two started walking. "What's the good news?" Pip asked.

"You'll get to see your lady friends at the debriefing. I demanded -- no, that's too strong -- I insisted strongly that they be invited."

Now Pip grinned. "So you were a pain in the ass until they agreed." John nodded proudly. "Will Loren be there, too?"

John nodded again. "Yes. I had him registered as your official trainer, so he's expected."

"Does he know you did that?" asked Pip.

Shrugging, John replied, "I'm sure he'll figure it out."

Chapter 25

John led the way into the Council room with Pip following closely behind. Pip had only just stepped into the room when Maggie ran to him. Picking her up gently to avoid doing further damage to her still healing arms, he held her closely. Motioning his head down, she leaned up and whispered several plans she had worked out during his time away. Pulling back, Pip looked at her and raised an eyebrow, causing her to giggle and give him a quick kiss.

Pip set the curly haired girl down next to Rosie, who looked relieved, and Rachel, who appeared content. Seeing all three of the women overwhelmed him for a moment, but he quickly regained composure with the benefit of the Effect, giving him the time needed to collect his thoughts. Letting time flow again, he leaned over and gave both Rachel and Rosie quick, heartfelt hugs, then turned to face the assembled council.

All of the male directors in the room were smiling, clearly happy -- overjoyed, really -- with the outcome of the fight. Lilith and the Executive Director, however, wore neutral expressions. When Pip's eyes met those of the latter, she gestured to the open chair at the end of the table opposite her. As he walked to the assigned place, he saw that John had joined Loren along the wall while the girls stayed together near the door.

"Welcome back, Pip," started the Executive Director, "and congratulations on another outstanding victory." The assembled directors rapped their knuckles on the table in applause. "Before we get to today's fight, I think it's time we cleared the air, as they used to say." Pip remained silent, waiting for the question he was expecting. "There are some new faces in your retinue. I'm sure the Council would appreciate being introduced."