The Moon's Fangs | 1

Name: Etch | Rank: Common

{Raised between foster homes until stumbling into the life of a cage fighter. Notorious for picking fights and harboring a violent disposition. Lays claims to a vitiate ancestor lineage - unable to prove allegations. Request to access classified files; rejected 59 times to date.}

The identity card Nox pulled on him left an unsettling feeling in my stomach as we neared the cage. The crowd parted, allowing us easy access to step forward to where Etch waited for us at the cage’s entrance.

Up this close, Etch looked like a young, red-headed Thor embracing his inner punk. He had a foot height advantage over Reks and was nearly as buff as Baze. Etch’s dark auburn hair was a wild fawkes-cut mess, but the red color brought out the piercing shade of blue in his barbaric stare.

His many scars were at contrast with his pale complexion. He wore the collection like trophies.

A thin line starting at the top left corner of his forehead cut through the arch in his brow, down his eye, and ended in the center of his cheek. Only an inch away from the end of that scar, another in the shape of a jagged x stood out against the end of his jawline below the ear. A large splatter-like burn scar pockmarked the entirety of the right side of his neck, reaching down across that shoulder and top of his peck. Other various scars, both pink and faded white were scattered across his arms and other parts of visible skin.

The fighter snickered down at us as we approached. The gesture sent the scar on his cheek to curve up. He swung the battered door open to greet us, assessing the four of us before settling on Reks.

Even though Reks wore a hood, this guy found him more interesting. “Surprise, surprise. My trade attracted a couple of freshies. Desperate to get in The Circle’s parties, are yeh? Must be if you’d come here.” he flicked the two invitations up like two cards, mouth dramatically parting in fake awe. “Makes me wonder what else you’d be willing to do.”

From how he spoke, he must assume we’re from the surface. A couple of spoiled high-ranks who didn’t make the cut.

Reks loosely crossed his arms and leaned against a standing beam, extending an unamused look at our two new allies.

“This was never my intention, I swear it.” Baze growled up at the fighter. “Etchyboy, if you know what’s good, you’ll stop playin’ around with my customers.” His presence alone had viewers around us distance themselves, not wanting to be too close to the grizzly of a man if things were to go sideways.

“Just give them the invites, you dolt.” Shion added. Her cheeks warmed as she fidgeted uncomfortably, frown deepening with her lowering brows.

Etch slid the invites into one of his front pant pockets, gently patting it. “Happy to, if-” he raised one bloodstained finger, “one of these two freshies humor me with a little fun in the cage. One round, and the invites are yours.”

I stared up at the stranger, confused. “Why? What’s the point?”

This man played with some kind of edge. What would be the point of stealing the invitations with the only motive being to face one of us off in his cage? It didn’t add up.

It made the muscles along my spine tense.

Etch flipped his hand over in a shrug, stepping down from the cage’s platform to stand on our level. “Why not? You interested, pretty thing?” He stepped over, and I felt my body freeze still as he ran a calloused hand over my braid, pulling it free from the hood. The scent of copper and sweat stung my nose from his proximity. He pulled my hair close to his face and smiled. “I’d be happy to humor you in a fight, but not the kind one fights in a cage. Unless you like an audience.” his tongue lobbed out to the side as a maniacal laugh hissed through the air between us.

My eyes widened from his implications - what he so blatantly suggested. A flare of anger lashed through me.

I saw movement in the corner of my eye, but I was already reacting.

My fist reeled back and, for the first time in my life, I punched someone in the face. The spark of anger somehow centralized in my arm, as if Nox sent that new burst of emotion-driven energy to amplify that single blow to the cage fighter’s face. The impact of my small fist slamming against the x on his lower cheek sent a sharp sting to ricochet through my knuckles, like an explosion of pain. It split up my knuckles and through my arm like a volley of needles. But… it felt good too! It hurt like hell. But worth it.

Etch stumbled back a step, looking just as stunned as I felt. I gasped, containing the strange bubble of laughter eager to escape my throat. Adrenaline pumped wildly against my eardrums like my own personal applause.

Reks stepped between us a fraction of a second after I hit the fighter, shooting me a look of surprise over his shoulder. There was a wild look in his eyes, like maybe he wanted me to do it again. “Is your hand okay?”

The rush of adrenaline made me want to say yes initially, but under that, the sharp throbs of pain across my hand begged to differ. I looked down at the damage, cradling my hand. The knuckles of my middle and forefinger were split open and bleeding, and my other fingers were a bright shade of splotchy red. My pinky had gone numb.

~Yowch!~ Nox exclaimed in my mind. ~That’s what I hope that rude cage fighter is thinking at this moment. A well-deserved punch, I say! Anywho, the damage you took is minimal. Only one finger is broken. I’ll be done stitching you up momentarily.~

The way Nox phrased it, it made the Guide sound like a secretary about to put me on hold and have me listen to elevator music.

“It stings,” I admitted, then shot Etch a heated glare over Reks’ shoulder. “But he deserved it.”

“He deserves much more than that.” Reks contended.

Then Etch burst into laughter, lightly touching his cheek where I struck him. “Shayd be damned. I jest! No one hardly ever knows how to take a joke.”

Shion’s oil-stained fingers pulled my injured hand from where I held it against my chest so she could get a better look at it.

“I’ll be fine.” I promised, taking note of how the brash teenager took a sudden interest in my well-being.

She grabbed a roll of binder tape from the edge of the cage arena. She unspooled it and tentatively wrapped it around my knuckles. “I’ll just cover it so you don’t drip blood everywhere.” She mumbled, not meeting my gaze as she worked the loops around my hand and wrist.

“Come onnnn. One fight. That’s all I’m askin' for.” Etch ignored the thin line of blood trickling down the side of his face. It was hard to believe I hit him hard enough to break skin. Not just mine, but his too. It was more likely I just reopened a previous wound of his.

“Not interested.” Reks said flatly. He turned back to check on me but Etch caught his arm.

“Damn. You may look like a baddie, but you’re just as scared as the rest of ’em. Aren’t yeh? Don’t tell me your pretty little flame has more bite than you.”

A lethal fire lit in Reks’ eyes. He sharply yanked his arm from Etch’s grip. His lips curved into a snarl-like smile, sending an instant shiver down my spine. “I’m doing you a favor, kid. I’d hate to embarrass you in your own playpen.”

Shion whistled as the silence amongst the five of us alone thickened the air with animosity.

“Shayd be damned. Now I’d like to put money on this.” Baze admitted. “I bet our new friend here’ll wipe that scarred smug right off yer ugly face!” he rumbled with laughter, thoroughly enjoying where this conversation led.

Etch shot Baze a short glare, as if Baze was supposed to be on his side and not the other way around.

Observers who listened in began to chant, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” repeatedly. It escalated to the point where they shoved hands against Reks as a collective, goading him to enter the cage.

“Hey—stop!” I yelled, but it was futile. The distance between Reks and I stretched as strangers urged him into the battered cage with their scarred victor, Etch.

Someone with a blacked-out face mask slammed the cage shut, locking them in. Etch grabbed their shoulder and whispered something against their ear before returning his attention to the excited spectators.

Etch laughed maniacally and bellowed out, “make your bets, boys! This match’ll be one round!”

Projections of the new match displayed over employee heads, the ones wearing blacked-out face masks with a bleeding eye on their foreheads and revealing neon attire. Etch versus Squiggles.

Squiggles? Had that been what Etch whispered? They must have set that as his default name because Reks didn’t provide it, nor could anyone access it. Even still, the alias seemed like a strange choice.

I shoved past people and twined my fingers through the cage links, staring up at Reks with wide eyes. “Reks, I don’t like this.”

“Shh, not so loud,” he bent down, interlacing his fingers over mine. The contact of our skin sent a fluttering trill through me, but it did little to ease the mass of discomfort forming in my chest. “Stay close where I can keep an eye on you. I won’t let this last any longer than it needs to. But just so you know… I’ll be holding back on purpose.” a slow smirk graced his lips.

Hold back? Why would he want to do that?

Before I could ask him, his fingers slipped from mine. He stood, pinpointing where Baze and Shion were in the crowd before facing his eager opponent. “Any particular reason why you’re picking a fight with me?”

The fighter ripped off his bloodstained shirt, revealing a massive tattoo scaling from one forearm to the next. A greatsword pierced through a gate ring-like portal in the center of his chest and dripped blood at the point ending on his opposite arm.

Etch lifted his arms up in a wide arch, which caused the crowd to roar. “Do I need one?”

“You have one.” Reks took a step to move in a slow circle, just like how he did during our training sessions.

Etch moved in the opposite direction, like two coy fish in a yin and yang art piece. With his scars, Etch reminded me of a tiger sizing down his opponent. But his opponent wasn’t just anyone - and Reks was a far cry from anyone’s prey.

Reks was a deadly predator - one these people believed to be extinct.

Nox’s projection slipped free of my skin to rest in its normal place around the back of my shoulders. Its tail flicked rigidly back and forth as it watched. Without Nox needing to say anything, I felt its acute desire to confront the cage fighter – to protect Reks.

~This is ridiculous. Why must we indulge this barbarian in a dual?~

The two men nearly walked a full circle around the ring before Etch charged. He yelled out, swinging a wide fist at Reks’ face. He moved before the fist could connect, but it was a distraction—Etch’s knee drove into Reks’ stomach.

I gasped - heart dropping. There was no way. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. Nox’s tail coiled tightly around my shoulder.

This couldn’t be what Reks meant when saying he planned to hold back in the fight. He couldn’t mean he would take a beating just to appease this fighter’s ego - just so no one would know what he was truly capable of.

Reks’ obsidian locks obscured his eyes under the hood as Etch slammed him into the side of the cage with savage force. The wiring lit up in a bright neon color, and the crowd went wild. They screamed profanity, cheering Etch on. The notch on his cheek kicked up in a bloodthirsty grin as he reeled back his fist to begin a series of fatal punches.

“No!” I screamed out, lungs suddenly on fire.

But just as I did, Etch fell to the floor — Reks had swept a leg right under his footing! Etch was quick to roll away and hop back to his feet. But Reks had somehow gotten behind him in that split second. Like a shadow you can’t lose, yet can never catch.

Something Reks whispered to where only Etch could hear made the scarred fighter’s eyes glaze over in wide acknowledgment.

Whatever he said, it shook Etch.

He spun on him, then stumbled back when Reks’ fist cracked against the same cheek I hit earlier. X marks the spot, especially in his case. But this blow made a much greater impact than mine had. Etch’s head flung back, and blood splattered the crowd behind him.

Anger seared through Etch’s expression, obviously provoked by whatever Reks said to him. "I hope the Crowned Prince of Shayd boils your fuckin' soul. You fuckin' liar!" He cursed at Reks, spitting blood-mixed spit onto the cage floor. His next step swayed drunkenly.

Reks mimicked Etch’s earlier action by throwing up his arms in the air, mocking the cage fighter as the crowd began to cheer for him instead. His face turned nearly as red as his hair as he rushed in for another attack.

This time before Etch could even reel his arm back, Reks planted one hand on his shoulder and jumped. He used his opponent’s own momentum against him, landing soundlessly behind him as Etch's fist slammed crookedly against the cage wall, lighting up the wire once again in neon. In the following heartbeat, Reks slid his hood off and threw it in the air between them just as Etch whirled to face him.

Etch hesitated, caught off guard for a second too long.

Reks reeled a leg back and kicked a foot into his flying hood, ramming it into Etch’s stunned face.

Blood sprayed from his nose as he jolted back, one leg flying up from the jarring impact.

Reks didn’t show any mercy. He snagged the foot flung into the air and yanked, sending Etch colliding into the stained floor, close to where Nox and I watched.

I flinched, but couldn't tear my eyes away.

Etch turned to his side, coughing up blood, but made an effort to get up. Etch, he… in that split second, he looked overcome with awe.

Reks shoved him on his back, pressing a boot against his chest. “This match belongs to me.”

A slew of curses cast around the crowd of those who lost money on the fight. Some demanded a rematch. Somewhere in the distance, I heard Baze laughing.

“Who in Fate’s damn name are you…” Etch wiped blood from his mouth, moving to lean against the cage after Reks lifted his boot from his chest. He reached into his pocket, then frowned when coming up empty-handed.

“Don’t bother.” Reks tucked the two invitations into his pocket, leaning down to pick up his hood from the floor.

When had he grabbed those from Etch? I hadn’t so much as blinked during the fight, but I never saw him swipe them from the fighter.

“Wait…” Etch muttered, too dizzy to stand properly without using the cage wall for assistance. “Tell me your name. I deserve to know it.”

“What you deserve to know is your own name. But until you stop wasting your potential in a cage for their amusement, you won’t learn it. Do yourself a favor and fight for yourself for a change.”

The masked worker unlocked the gate, letting Reks out. He stepped down from the platform, ignoring Etch’s dumbstruck stare.

I met him at the foot of the ledge, fighting the intense urge to both hit Reks and hug him for getting in the ring in the first place. For making me worry.

“I thought you were going to go easy on him.” I whispered, checking him for any possible injuries.

“He’s still conscious, isn’t he?” he laid an arm across my shoulders, then lightly squeezed the top of my cheekbone. Nox looped over his arm, nose lifting, like a proud pet dissing its owner’s opponent as Reks guided us out of the crowd. “Come on. We need to finish our business here, then get out—”

“Ay! Don’t walk away when I’m talkin’ to you, Squiggles!” Etch yelled, now leaning heavily on the cage’s entry frame. Then he shouted out, “Sleepwalker!”

The name caused the blood in my veins to freeze over. A flash of sudden recognition dawned on my face before I had the chance to mask it, which sent a bloody grin across the fighter’s face, like that was all he needed to answer a hunch.

Reks had disappeared from my side and was back in front of Etch before I registered it. He grabbed a fistful of the fighter's auburn hair and slammed his head into the cage wire. Neon lights went ballistic from the constant application of pressure. "Make no mistake, Etch. I know exactly who you are. I knew the second I laid my damn eyes on you." Reks seethed, shoving Etch harder against the wire before sharply dropping his hold. "I expected more from a descendent of vitiates."

Etch stared at him in stunned silence as Reks turned his back on him without another word.

Author's Note: Shhheeessshhhhh. Reks sure likes to drop bombs! What are your thoughts on Etch, the cage fighter?