Born of Defiance

He fought because it was all he knew. All he was good at.

The sole thing that gave him any real pleasure. Because here, in this Ring, he could unleash the pent-up fury he was forced to bite back whenever he stood on the other side of those cage barriers.

Talyn took the towel from his trainer’s hand and dodged the reporters as he made his way through them to his dressing room. He’d let Erix deal with them. His trainer lived for this shit. Talyn would rather have his head split open than skillfully bypass the questions he didn’t want to answer, from Andarions he couldn’t stand. Andarions who didn’t think he was fit to breathe their air.

His manager, Erix, was in his glory as he went from post-fight interview to interview, bragging about his skills in training Talyn over the years.

Yeah, right…

More correctly, it was Talyn’s fists and willingness to stupidly open a vein, either his or someone else’s, whenever he was under attack.

Pulling the bloody mask from his face and fang-guard from his mouth, Talyn passed the security agents and headed to his locker room. Unlike Duel’s finery, his was a shithole. The bare-bones, barely furnished back room that was provided for mongrel dogs to shower and dress in. No frills. Utterly hideous.

Just like him.

Ferrick, a grumpy, potbellied, middle-aged Andarion who barely reached Talyn’s shoulders, joined him in the dressing room. He was grinning so wide, his fangs were exposed and his white eyes gleamed with delight. “Next time, kid, I need you to kill your opponent. We’re talking major bonus payout. We’d be rich.”

Talyn snorted. “You’d be rich.”

“Yeah, okay, I’d be rich. But I have four daughters in university with upcoming unification ceremonies. You’ve got to help me. Next fight, rip out the trachea and beat your opponent with it. I can get some serious mileage from that. And credits out my ass.”

Reaching for his towel, Talyn raked him with an amused stare. “How about I make your wife a rich widow instead?”

Ferrick laughed. “That threat would hold more impact if I didn’t know how much you hate dealing with others, and there’s no way in Core?a’s thorny hell you’d ever set your own fights. Or deal with the media.”

“I’m not sure I’d bet my life on that… were I you.” Talyn headed for the showers.

“Think about it, kid! Just one death. One! Slow and painful is better, but at this point, I’d take a quick, painless one.”

Shaking his head, Talyn turned the shower on, and washed off his mask first. After Ferrick left to deal with reporters, he undressed, shoved his shoes and dirty shorts into his duffel, and showered. There was no maid service or attendant on the lower side of the Ring. Everything was self-serve. Which was fine by him. Like Ferrick had said, he preferred solitude to bullshit company.

Or worse, sycophants to his face, assholes at his back.

The water stung against his wounds and bruises. But he was used to that, too.

He’d just finished showering when his military armband went off to let him know that he was due back for check-in. Picking up his jacket, he paused to finger his major’s stars on the epaulette, and the honors and medals he’d won over the last four years. Tomorrow, he’d put in for rank advancement. With a win like this, and given his service record, it should be guaranteed.

If he were a fully Vested Andarion, there would be no doubt.

Four weeks ago, it would have been a damn good probability, too. But that was before Colonel Chrisen Anatole had been transferred in as his CO.

Now…

His comm link buzzed with the special armada tone.

Talyn put it in his ear and answered as he finished dressing. “Major Batur.”

“Major? Where are you?” the lieutenant snarled in the snottiest of tones.

Again, fury rose high as Talyn bit back a nasty set-down. A Vested officer would be able to verbally slap the lower-ranking lieutenant. If he tried that, he’d be put on report. It wasn’t his place to question or correct his so-called betters. “On my way back to post.”

“You missed your check-in.”

Talyn choked. “Not possible. My band just went off. I have leave until midnight.”

“No, sir. You don’t. Check your orders.”

Talyn pulled them up on his link, then cursed. “I reviewed them before I left. My curfew was midnight.” He ground his teeth as he saw that Anatole had reset his time after his fight had started, knowing there was no way Talyn could see it until he violated it.

“Regardless, you are now AWOL. Report to Provost on your return.”

“Will do.” Talyn hung up and gathered his gear. So much for celebrating. Violating check-in wasn’t something the Andarion military took lightly. It was one of their strictest policies and held some of the worst punishments for anyone dumb enough to do it.