Mouse looked at his rival's half-gone face. He had nothing against him. He didn't know the boy, he didn't know if he was a good boy or not. He only knew that this was an opportunity and that he shouldn't be overconfident. He wouldn't be the first boy to be resurrected by willpower when he thought he was finished.
The problem was that if he kept running away, he always risked being caught or knocked down. The other boy had no strength left, but Mouse himself was beginning to show signs of fatigue. The referee made the two boys approach. Suckerbucket had his arms hanging down, but what caught Mouse's attention was the slight smell of vomit coming from the boy's mouth.
The fight resumed, but this time Mouse didn't back down. He surprised his rival with a flat-footed kick to the belly. Mouse moved away just in time so that the jet of vomit didn't splash him. But the referee, even though Suckerbucket was bent over and venting all his bile, did not stop the fight. Mouse looked at him. What was the point of continuing?
Faced with the referee's silence, Mouse did the only logical thing. It was absurd to lose the opportunity or give Suckerbucket the chance to recover. His next kick hit the boy in the head, staining his foot with vomit. The other boy fell to his knees, and Mouse had no trouble knocking him down. Standing on top of him, he began to hit him and did not stop until the referee told him to. Suckerbucket would not die, but it was clear that the beating would have consequences.
The referee raised Mouse's hand.
"And the winner of this first fight of the evening, the fighter Mouse !"
The boy left the cage while the audience cheered enthusiastically. Mouse had really given a nice show for a child. The rest of the event organizers certified Mouse's victory and paid his bet. It was a large amount, but paying a bet was part of the prestige of a place.
Fang was congratulating Mouse and took him to a table a little away from where the VIPs were. Even if Mouse had won, he was still a poop cleaner and smelled like shit from a mile away. One of the waiters approached with a steaming plate.
In his life, Mouse only remembered the taste of the gray organic recycling purée that he had been eating for nine years. When he smelled the simple stew that was put in front of him, it was as if he were discovering the world. First he drank a little of the sauce, it was spicy and peppery, and then he looked at the meat with curiosity.
"What is it?"
"It's rat stew, eat it, it's delicious."
For the G class, eating anything other than the purée was strange, they couldn't afford to spend money on better food even when they were adults, but at the station and especially at the dump there were many rats. Mouse had come across many of them in the tunnels, but they were big, aggressive and transmitted diseases, the children who had tried to eat them raw said it was disgusting, and they preferred the gray purée in the dining room a thousand times.
He looked at the plate with distrust.
"Eat, you've earned it."
Just to satisfy his curiosity, Mouse picked up a piece of meat that was coming off a bone that must have been from a leg. He put it in his mouth and Mouse cried with happiness, it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, it was tasty, juicy, and a little spicy, and that was only a rat boiled in water, then fried and cooked again in the spicy sauce.
The boy ate, sticking his grubby hands into his plate, savoring every bite. The wrestling match was taking a break, so people could order a drink at the bar and collect their winnings. At that moment, a man approached the table. Fang looked up and recognized the VIP who had approached.
"Can I sit with you?"
"Of course, Mr. Blacker. Forgive the boy's manners, but this is the first time he's eaten anything other than mashed potatoes..."
In fact, Mouse was so absorbed in enjoying the food that he hadn't noticed the other man's arrival. He looked up when he was addressed and waved as his mouth was full of rat meat.
"Keep eating kid, you had a good fight, you deserve it..."
"Tell me Mr. Blacker, can I help you with something, if the boy has made you lose a bet I promise you that we will pay you back..."
"Relax Fang, I know who you are, or rather who you were before they demoted you to simple guard, I never bet with the poop cleaners, you can get many surprises"
"So then?"
"I have seen the boy fight, and he has talent and a head for fighting, with proper nutrition and a little exercise he could be a good participant in the hurricane"
Mouse looked up, they were talking about him, but those two adults acted as if he was not sitting there.
"What is the Hurricane and what does it mean to exercise..."
"Ha ha ha, I always forget that these brats never leave the sewers and don't know what's going on in the world up here, Mouse, the Hurricane is a wrestling tournament, the fun is really in the professional combat, but the poop cleaners and the garbage men always heat up the atmosphere. Sixty-four kids chosen from different sectors fighting each other in five rounds. For each fight you win you will get forty salaries, but if you win the final you will get a bonus for a higher-class skill within your class if you are G or a basic skill if you are F class. Also, you can keep betting on yourself if you are confident, to enter you only have to win two more fights and have a sponsor to have an invitation..."
"And I don't know what the exercise is, I only know that I have to keep cleaning shit..."
"That's my offer, win two more fights, and you won't have to work until the tournament comes, you will run to improve your endurance, you will exercise to gain strength and to learn to hit well, I will pay you your daily salary as if you were cleaning, and I will make sure you eat something other than that gray garbage from the dining room, but in exchange you will have to obey me and let me train you."
Mouse was considering the idea, he had already won two thousand salaries, much more than he thought he had saved, but how far could he go if he kept winning and betting on himself? But there were things the boy didn't like, at the moment the adults were just an annoying presence that reminded them that they were shit at the bottom of the food chain, there must be an interest in all that.
"What do you gain from this? How long will this training last?"
"Me? Fame, prestige, it's always good to sponsor a good fighter. As for your training we have three and a half months if we count the two or three weeks that it will take you to fight again, you win the next two fights anyway, and we'll talk about this offer again"
At that moment the adults who were going to fight entered through the side doors, but Mouse was surprised that they didn't fight naked, they wore some kind of plates on their chest and other parts, and gadgets on their arms, body, and legs, their helmets although broken and patched protected them from blows, their hands covered by metal gloves.
"What is that?"
The boy pointed at the fighter's suit that was closest to him...
"That boy, is a Battle Suit, well, one that has seen better days, but one nonetheless"