After the Second Fall

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 faster. 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 once again came forward, 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 end the fight with a single blow. Pip, having feigned the stumble, saw Presto overextend as 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 once again 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 available , Presto tried to keep Pip back with his long reach, mixing short and long jabs while always being careful not to once again overextend. 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 relentless in pressing, although unhurried. 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 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 had 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 hobbled 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. Consequently, the Northumberland support staff never got a good look at him, seeing only 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 briefing with the council. Although Doctor 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.

As always, John was waiting when the transport 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 looked shocked. "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 questioning 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 didn'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 smile.

"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 said 'yes'." 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 down the curly haired girl 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. The Executive Director and Lilith, however, wore neutral expressions. When Pip's eyes met those of the Executive Director, 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."

Pip immediately clamped down on time again to hide his surprise. Consequently, there was no quick intake of breath, nor widening of his eyes. Instead, he responded smoothly, "Of course, ma'am.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Council, please allow me to introduce Rosaline Smythe, my First, and Magdalena Samuel, my Second. Each of the ladies stepped forward briefly with a nod when introduced. My personal assistant is Rachel Frazier, who I believe most of you already know. Rachel smiled and nodded. Next to Mr. Rogers is my trainer, Loren, formerly a fighter for Brock-Loren." There were some raised eyebrows and shifting at the mention of another city, but none of the directors said anything aloud. For his part, Loren remain stoic along the wall.

"Thank you, Pip," said the Executive Director. "Now, if you would, please tell us about the fight."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Pip, as he immediately began recounting the day's action. Having been through a debriefing before, Pip had a good idea of what to expect from the Council members.

Director Baker was again effusive in his praise without actually adding much substantive content.

Director Richards was extremely engaged, often derailing the story flow with highly specific inquiries about minutiae that no one else seemed to care about.

Director Humbolt asked clarifying questions that often diffused remarks from the others before they could be spoken.

And as with the previous debriefings, Director Collins was uncharacteristically quiet.

Throughout his account, the Executive Director remained entirely silent, leading Pip to believe that another private interview would be forthcoming.

It took more than a full bell to simply get through the account of the conversation with Presto. Nobody in the room had heard of such a thing before, so there were many questions and much debate.

"Why did you tell him a quarter bell?" asked Director Humbolt.

"Doctor Shepard and I discussed this fight at length over the last two weeks. He suspected, and subsequently suggested to me, that there is a limit to the amount of energy a fighter can store. Bigger muscles burn through energy very quickly, so I believe that my opponent was trying to decrease the amount of time he would have to fight in a worst case scenario. I also suspect it was intended as a sort of verbal jab, intended to plant doubt." Geoff Humbolt nodded appreciatively, and Pip continued on to the actual fight.

When Pip described how he had incapacitated Presto's left arm, it was again Director Humbolt that asked the relevant question. "How did you know it would work?"

"I didn't," replied Pip. Humbolt gave him a questioning look, so Pip continued. "When I told Presto that I would give Maggie my own message, he seemed to get angry, just for a moment. I saw something similar when he couldn't hit me after the first couple exchanges, only more pronounced. My thought at the time was that if I could frustrate him enough, he would leave himself open for a counterstrike."

"But why the elbow?" asked the director. "How did you decide on that?"

Pip shook his head. "It wasn't a decision so much as seizing the opportunity that presented itself. As I already described, I faked a stumble, but I didn't really know what he would do."

"And you knew to work against the joint. How?"

"You can credit Dr. Shepard and Mr. Rogers for that," responded Pip. "Dr. Shepard used the third bone from the last fight to figure out roughly how many strikes would need to land in a single location to actually break the reinforced bones. For bones in the arm, it was around a dozen; for leg bones it was about twice that. With Presto's reach and mass advantage, I had to find a weak point quickly.