Fang was allowed to sit at a table away from Mouse, it was not normal for fighters to be inside the club until their match was over, but with some pay in the right hand the matter had been settled. The boy did not ask for food, he would wait until the end of the night, if he won he would have plenty of time to eat.
At another table nearby was an adult sitting alone, because of the bottles on the table he had already drunk half the bar, but he did not stop ordering. But seeing a drunk adult is not what caught Mouse's attention, that adult was the tallest, strongest guy the boy had ever seen.
Even among fighters who took off their Battle Suits, size, musculature, could be considered at most of a fibrous nature, however this guy had bulging and developed shoulders and arms, also his height and shoulder span were not comparable to anyone he had seen before.
Mouse was very curious to know who he was.
"Mouse, don't look at him anymore, that guy is not someone you want to bother..."
"Why? Who is that?"
"That guy is Marcus Verminion, a former intergalactic Battle Suit champion, if he didn't like drinking and gambling so much you wouldn't see him in this remote corner of the universe waiting for a fight..."
"Is a champion going to fight here?"
"Yes, that idiot bet his armor, and when he lost it he tried to steal it to get it back, he just arrived at the station to serve his punishment..."
"But he is a champion, why doesn't he fight in a better club, or as a finale to the evening?"
"I've already told you, the idiot, he lost his armor, the thing he's wearing now can't even be called armor, it's as if he came to fight naked, they've done him a favor by letting him fight..."
The boy looked at a corner behind the former champion, there was a bruised helmet, some light metal gloves or hands, they were barely protectors, and some plates for the shins and forearms. There was no plate to protect his chest or back, no metal structure to join all the pieces together and much less flight systems or hydraulic systems to boost the blows.
If his opponent landed a good blow the wounds would undoubtedly be fatal. That man must be crazy to try to fight like that.
The first fight was announced, being the third evening of combat that Mouse saw, he could already see that those dazzling combat suits that had impressed him so much at first were patches of other suits, with loose and disjointed pieces, with pieces from other Battle Suits dented or reused. But despite being able to appreciate that, they were still impressive.
Mouse did not want to miss any detail of the first Round, the two fighters began a violent exchange of blows and then flew out and began to hit each other in the air. The round was very even, neither managed to knock the other down, but the exchanges and clashes in the air were brutal. In the end, the Round was awarded by points to the fighter with the Red helmet, he had landed more blows at the beginning of the Round, although the one with the black helmet seemed to have recovered somewhat at the end, it was not enough to tip the judges' count.
At that moment the big guy, the former champion approached his table, he stank of alcohol but accustomed to smelling pure shit, Mouse did not care. The man sat down without asking, but Fang didn't dare protest or even look up. But the man called Marcus didn't even bother to look at him, his gaze was fixed on Mouse.
"What's your name, poop cleaner..."
"They call me Mouse..."
"Ha ha ha that's a shitty name for a fighter... not very impressive, is it?"
"That's the one I have..."
"Sure kid, you seemed very interested in the fight, are you the kid who's going to fight tonight?"
"Yeah..."
"In that case don't pay too much attention to those two idiots, the fight is already decided, the one in the black helmet is going to win, if he knows what he's doing in this Round, if not at the beginning of the next..."
"How can he know who's going to win?"
"It's obvious, anyone with half a brain would have noticed that the red's flight system is screwed, it drifts to the right in turns, even by the way it oscillates in the air I would say that the energy system is overheating. Have you noticed how the black has caught him several times in a row at the end of the Round? He has noticed the other's problems, now it's just a matter of finishing him off..."
Mouse thought about what the man was saying, it was subtle details but it made sense.
The next round began with another exchange of blows, the former champion laughed and shook his head in disapproval, but when they went into the air exactly what Marcus had said began to happen, the fighter in black began to look for the side of the drift to hit, or even to get out of the range of the blows of the guy with the red helmet.
However, for the champion, the one in black had lost a lot of time in the first exchange on the ground, in the end his opponent's flight system failed, but in twenty seconds, and despite the fact that the one in red could no longer fly, the other fighter did not have time to finish him off.
"If you really want to learn something, watch my fight, these guys are only there because they have a license and have shitty armor, but they have no idea what it's like to really fight."
Mouse nodded, although for him those fighters were still in a different dimension than his own, this champion seemed to know what he was talking about even though he was drunk. If Mouse had known what the latter meant and how drunk Marcus was, he wouldn't have listened to him so carefully, but in the boy's head only the words "Intergalactic Champion" resonated, although he didn't understand the extension of the term, it must mean something, right?
"The truth is, Mouse, you're lucky..."
"Why am I lucky?"
"The simple fact that your opponent isn't here watching the other fights like you is already telling you a lot about him..."
"I don't understand Mr. Marcus..."
"Ha ha ha, let's see if he's not here watching the fights it means several things, the first is that he's very sure of winning, that he doesn't think he has anything to learn. But you're just poop cleaners with no combat training, so you're up against a bully, strong and violent. He has no interest in learning tactics or strategies, that kid will go all out from the start, with extreme violence, stay away from him, keep your distance and you'll have a chance."
The third round was fast, the one in the red helmet tried to defend himself, but with his opponent flying, fleeing and hitting him at full power he ended up slammed into the ground. The one in the black helmet finished him off with blows until the red helmet was a mass of metal that stuck in the fighter's face.
"Do you have anything saved up?"
"Yes, I have something..."
"In that case bet on me, it's a sure bet."
The odds were 3 to 1 against Marcus, although he was a champion everyone could see that he was drunk and on the other hand his Battle Suit was shit if it could be called that. Mouse thought about it a bit, he could risk something on that guy, at least he owed him for the advice. He bet five hundred shillings on the former champion. In the previous evenings and on Fang's advice he didn't dare to bet on the other fights, he didn't know the fighters or know much about wrestling, he was a newcomer, the most prudent thing was not to bet in those cases, but with this guy he got carried away.
"Go ask me for another drink, I won't be long..."