Chapter Text
Spring 2011
Hookwolf
Brad was pleasantly tipsy and doing his third favorite thing after drinking and fighting, watching other people fight. It was one of the few pits running that weren’t under his control, either as Brad or as Hookwolf. The place was surprisingly nice for something only just moved out of PRT territory after a botched raid. His eyes trailed over the brick walls, recently cleaned cement floor and carefully maintained if cheap lighting dragging the eye to the stage as the two opponents faced off against one another in the center. He inhaled the smell of blood, sweat and dust, yeah he liked this place.
He grunted at the announcer's theatrics riling up the crowd into a pitched frenzy, money swapping hands and beer spilling as they jostled. It was invite only, so the crowd wasn’t completely insane. It was almost civilized, for a pit fight at least.
He ignored the crowd and focused on the fighters, so far they had been a middling bunch, nothing truly outstanding nor amateur. He had almost not bothered to go due to how small the place was, but really what else was he going to do on his day off? So instead of pointlessly trawling a bar or losing his mind watching TV he went out and scouted his competition. Were there any new places or players worth his time, good enough to take under his wing?
For a moment he wondered what his friends were doing, before he rolled his eyes and remembered they had one of their dates with some new twink that day. He was suddenly very glad he wasn’t at his apartment, for as nice a place as it was, the walls were simply never thick enough to stop the godawful noises that made his wolf want to find a hole and crawl in it, never to return.
Of course, they were also on call, he smirked at the thought of one of their phones going off in the middle of their fun. Oh look, the smaller more trained man on stage won, he took another sip of his beer, savoring it slowly. He would definitely be back, even if it was only for the damn fine beer.
He savored it all, not a single E88 member in sight to annoy him and no Kaiser to blow up his phone with manipulations and egoistic nonsense. Not that he could blame the man, he was an excellent fighter and orator, pity he was also a narcissistic ass.
“Ladies, Gentlemen and degenerates all! You know her! You love her! Our own little monster once again out past her bedtime! Please welcome to the stage, our very own Hooky!”
The announcer bellowed. Hookwolf spewed his drink, choking as he tried to wipe his glasses and shirt clean from the mess.
Who in the fuck had the balls to take a name so similar to his own? He coughed, wheezily thanking the kind soul that shoved a bunch of napkins into his hands.
“Hey, you okay man?” asked that same soul, he quickly waved him off. He did not want attention that night, thank you very much. He shoved his glasses back on his face, whoever this punk was he wanted to meet the bastard, one way or another.
Down into the pit walked a tall, thin young woman with her hair in a long braid and a gray mask covering the top half of her head. Wow, she wasn’t even being subtle about it, the mask was patterned with what looked like chains and hooks. He’d seen various fighters referencing capes in the ring before, he’d even seen one in red body paint and a cheap Velocity mask, only the mask. Yet, no one’s ever had the balls to try one of him before.
She wore a large dark brown t-shirt and what looked like shorts over a pair of leggings. At least she wasn’t dressing like a slut while referencing him. Thank god for small favors. Still she was willowy, her walk into the pit a smooth lope, elegant if it weren’t for the smirk on her wide mouth.
Oh, she had better be good or they were going to be having a nice long talk about the importance of a name. He ordered a margarita while the announcer jazzed up the crowd. Beer would not get him nearly buzzed enough to deal with this and there weren’t any idiots around to bother him about his choice of drink. The announcer introduced an old hat of the ring with the same enthusiasm as he had for Hooky herself. How long had Hooky been fighting to get the same kind of intro as an established fighter? Was she established?
He sipped his drink, a damn perfect mix of sweet and tart, definitely coming back. The fight began and they circled one another, a familiar dance. Then the testing jabs, though the fighters must have fought before given how short it lasted. And finally, a heavy jab caught Hooky across her ribs and the slip of a girl stumbled but surprisingly didn’t go down. She was fighting a man with almost half a foot and a hundred pounds on her, and she was holding her own. Her footsteps were light, small and quick, punches, kicks and elbows finding their targets most of the time. He could hear the sharp thunk of her hits, see the impact as she hit through her opponent with just as much strength as he hit her.
The drink in his hand almost spilled as he was jostled and he stopped just behind the front line of the crowd. He hadn’t even noticed he was making his way forward. Both fighters were breathing heavily and bruises littered their bodies. This close he could see the feral smile that split her face as she exchanged blow after blow in what should have been a one sided smack down. Instead she was nimbly holding her own, her form, footwork and guard staying mostly steady even as the minutes ticked on.
The wolf inside him watched keenly. She fought like an animal. Savage and gleeful in her violence, clearly enjoying herself. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. For once he and his wolf both in agreement on what was important. This, this was what he’d been hoping to see tonight. Sure, she made mistakes, blocked when she should have dodged, kicked when she should have kneed, but the raw primal fierceness she exuded. What a show.
One of her punches extended just too far inside her opponents guard and he capitalized on his chance, he tried to get her into an arm-bar but she managed to barely slip away. Just not soon enough to avoid overbalancing. Her opponent railed on her, driving her to the ground, even as she kicked and twisted trying to escape, until eventually she had to tap out.
Brad loosened his jaw and grip on his drink as the fight was called and the fighters shook in a friendly manner before going their separate ways. He had just found another very good reason to come back, besides the drinks.
2 weeks later
Taylor aka Hooky
Taylor was quite pleased with her haul for the night, she’d been able to squeeze in 3 fights, the first she’d lost and the second two she’d won for a total of 270. A very good haul for the night and the more she fought the more she was able to make. She shivered as she stripped out of her fighting clothes, then let the metal beneath her skin leak out, repairing only the most major damage she’d received that night.
Her changing room was a nice benefit to being the only woman participating in the ring at the moment. She had it all to herself, which made healing up after a fight all the easier.
She’d keep some of the bruises, mainly the ones visible on her arms, calves and neck mainly. Someone might catch on to her regeneration if she showed up perfectly healed after every major fight.
The writhing metal slid over her skin, some dripping onto the floor only to be summoned back to her to join the rest. It was both a beautiful and grotesque sight, her change. First her metal would cover her skin, flowing about her more and more as she formed the chains, blades and hooks that made up her extra limbs, moving and shifting even when the change had settled, like some twisted metal Cthulhu.
In her final form she would be around 7-10 feet tall depending on some factor she had yet to determine, maybe how much lead she had in her diet. She chuckled at the joke as she slid back into her loose ‘Taylor’ jeans. One wimpy nerd coming right up.
She didn’t let the change fully take her of course, that would be rather awkward and she’d lost several shirts to that same mistake. A knock came from the room's door.
“One sec, I’m still changing” she hollered back, pulling the metal once more beneath her skin, just in case. The squeak of the door was the only reply.
“I said one sec, Matt, you asshole!” Matt was one of the new guys, he was one of the youngest as well so he might not know the rules yet. Assuming it was Matt of course, no one outside the group should know where she was, her changing room was kept hushed up for a reason after all. At least she’d gotten her sports bra on, she thought as she turned to confront the rude intruder, tying her sweatshirt around her waist.
“Well I don’t mind the view,” charmed a man in a metal mask that covered his entire face. He was tall and even in a t-shirt she could tell he was stacked. He had greasy blond hair that hung down to his shoulders and his hands casually rested in his pockets. He leaned back against the door he came through, blocking her only way out. Her heart began to beat double as she prayed this wasn’t who she thought it was. If she survived this she was going to kick Jeffrey in the balls for insisting on the name Hooky for her when he first recruited her for his pit.
“Get out, this area isn’t for customers” she stood straight, she couldn’t show weakness but she also couldn’t afford to offend him, it was a delicate balance.
“Now, now, is that anyway to treat your new boss?” he chided gently as with a soft click he removed the bottom portion of his mask. “There, now we match a little better don’t we Hooky, ” he said her stage name like he was savoring an expensive steak. A chill ran down her spine, fuck, why was the E88 taking an interest in this place after all this time? They weren’t even near their territory and were way too small a time to matter. Jeff had promised her they were safe, she hid her shaking hands in her sweater.
“Isn’t this place a little too multicultural for your people?” she asked and immediately regretted it, had Jeff really sold them out, sold her out? She was half Asian for fucks sake, with a '''Jewish'''' last name! She was glad she was still wearing her mask, it at least helped cover up some of her face.
He threw his head back laughing, showing off a set of very sharp teeth. Her blood felt like ice as a tattoo peeked out from under his shirt sleeve.
“Ah, oh no dear, this place isn’t going to them, no. The only people here who’ll know anything about this are me, you, and your manager.” He grinned widely, like the cat that got the canary. His stance changed, and he beckoned her forward. “Now, if I’m going to have a stake in this place I’d like to see what you’ve got. See if you’re worthy of your name”
Shaking her head she tried to think of how to resolve this without dying. She may be a fighter, but she wasn’t suicidal nor was she stupid, regardless of what most people thought of her.
“No sir, today was my last fight, I won’t be here after this.” she began to shrug on her shirt, feigning nonchalance. Should she scream at this point? Call the cops or PRT? She rolled her eyes internally, the pigs sure as shit wouldn’t help her against a wolf. Maybe the boys could help her, maybe.
In the second it took her to throw her shirt over her head he’d managed close the distance between them, he stood inches away, that smug smile still stuck on his stupid face. She suppressed a scream but a stifled gasp still managed to escape. The man hadn’t made a sound when he moved. He leaned over her, one of his arms boxing her in, why couldn’t he have been shorter than her?
“Now, now, none of those lies, you can’t afford to quit little missy and why don’t you stop with that Sir shit, say my name, Hooky ” he murmured, her name drawn out, stretched like taffy on his tongue.
Fuck, she was going to die wasn’t she? If she showed even a hint of her powers, then she’d have outed herself to the goddamn Nazis. Was dying worse than being forced into his gang? But then he’d only have to take off her mask, Jeff knew her name and where she went to school, dread pooled in her stomach. Her dad, she had to protect her dad. Live or die, they’d never let her join, and if they found out she was a cape they’d go after him for leverage, it’d happened to others.
She couldn’t use her powers, even if it killed her. If she could surprise him, throw him off his game while he was still mostly human and then lose him in the city. She was fast, very fast, but was she faster than Him?
“Come on Hooky, say my name,” he growled, his smile twisting more and more into a snarl as time passed.
She reinforced the metal around her ribs and inside her skull, lacing her bones with the stuff with a quickly suppressed shiver. She leaned up slowly, looking him in the eyes the entire time, making sure to leak the slightest trace of her metal on his shirt. She tried her best to look lazily seductive. His green eyes widened slightly, pupils expanding, he hadn’t expected that, good. Jeff had always said Men were stupid around women, regardless of how pretty they were. Hopefully that saying held some truth, otherwise she was going to die a very gruesome death.
Her mouth was next to his ear, she was close enough to smell his cologne. He mostly smelled of the pit, blood and sweat, testosterone and metal with the barest hint of pine on him.
“Hookwolf,” she whispered, kneeing him harshly in the balls at the same time and tossing him bodily aside. She made a quick break for the door with her money secured tightly in her jacket, thanking god for her paranoia. She reached for the door, almost there. Grasping the handle, a large hand clamped around her upper arm and suddenly she was slamming against the lockers on the other side of the room. She popped back up on her feet and charged forward, the metal she’d left on his shirt telling her exactly where he was even as her eyes were still rattling in their sockets.
He caught her again, shoving her back, too quick to dodge, he had a very good reach and this was not a large area. The second time hurt worse as her back collided with the lockers once more, their once welcoming metal, now biting through her jacket
“Willing to fight now?” He grinned, were his teeth sharper than before? She snarled back, win or lose she wasn’t going to stop. Their dance began, only partially circling one another, as he refused to let her get near the door. If she could change she’d just go through the damn wall, no problem. But then if she did that, she’d effectively have outed herself to the E88 and despite the situation that was still the worse option.
Her heart beat heavily, pumping adrenaline through her weary system once again. She’d already had two fights today and knew if she stopped to rest she would not be getting up again. Carefully, oh so carefully she tested his reach, he had a slightly reduced degree of vision from his mask but she could see the years of experience in his movements. He was as fluid as a dancer, and as savage as his namesake. She feigned a jab for his loose guard, only to barely dodge his returning strike. Again and again they exchanged blows, the few times she managed to get a hit often costing her dearly. He hit harder, hitting harder than any of the people she’d faced in the ring, was he just trying to kill her? If she were a normal person she wasn’t even sure she’d still be standing.
She took another glancing blow to the gut, hard enough for her to spit up just a bit. Focusing his momentum she slid past him, throwing her shoulder into him and pivoting his body into the ground while stepping past. The door was her only goal, if she could just get out.
His arm shot out around her waist pulling her against him and twirling them both so he was once again between her and her escape. She twisted, stomping down on his ankle but as strong as he was he was also nimble. Slamming her head back she hit his metal mask rather than the face she’d been expecting, she’d forgotten the mask was metal. Her head rang like a gong, but she wouldn’t give up.
“Hey, hey, you’ve impressed me already, there’s no need to keep on going!”
His words only made her struggle harder, scratching at his hand and elbowing him. He shook her like a rag doll, making the echoes in her head louder and the room spin slightly. God, she hated concussions, they always required her to stay in her full change for days on end to heal, fuck. His other hand went around her jaw and he picked her up effortlessly off the floor, pulling her back to his chest. Fear thundered through her veins and despite her best attempts a few tears began to leak from her eyes.
“Stop struggling! I knew you were stubborn but this is too much.” His hand closed around her throat and began to squeeze lightly in warning. She froze, fear overcoming her battling rage as her instincts clashed against one another. Her hands clawed loosely at his grip, but he only chuckled.
“Why are you fighting, it’s done, you’ve lost” His voice sounded animalistic so close. She suppressed a whimper, only a small wheeze escaping her throat. He hummed, his voice deep enough that she could feel it through his chest. “Is it because you’re Asian?”
Her hands stilled their desperate pawing, he knew?
“Hah, no, you really think I give a shit about that nonsense? No, no, that’s only so there’s enough canon fodder. I don’t even think Kaiser believes the bullshit he spews” He chuckled.
She didn’t understand. Why was he telling her this? Did he know she was a Parahuman? What was the point? It was too real to be a dream, but if this was reality it wasn’t one she was familiar with.
“Why?” she breathed, careful to keep her neck still. How much longer could he hold her like this, his arms felt like steel bands around her, unyielding in any respect.
“I’ve seen you fight, before just now of course. You move like you were born for it.” he loosened his grip but left his hand around her neck as a warning. “You could even say I’m a bit of a fan!” he huffed a laugh. Welp, she was going to die.
“Creep” she sneered, wishing she could twist enough to spit on him before he gutted her or something, whatever his sick plan was.
“Ah, maybe. But I don’t want to see your talent wasted here, you should be allowed to grow into your talents, really let loose on all you can do rather than stick to just fighting plain old normies, yeah?” He sounded eager, happy even. He may be clinically insane actually. She stayed stubbornly silent.
“It’s a great opportunity, you get to fight me to your heart's content, this place doesn’t get burned to the ground by Coil or somebody and you get to make some money without anyone the wiser. Wins all around.” he paused for a moment, “now as delighted as I am having a woman in my arms, can I put you down without you trying to flee?”
She wanted to snap and snarl at the man, bite and punch him into a bloody racist pulp. Mock him and kick him. Instead she nodded. His arms snaked away from her, slowly letting her down, her shirt sliding up slightly. The moment her feet touched the ground she spun to face him, hackles raised. The fast spin made the room swirl around her again, damn concussions!
“And if I don’t want to fight you?” she croaked
“Then no more hooky. Besides, I think you’ll like the rewards. For every fight you win against me, you’ll get 200 dollars, and 100 when you lose. Pretty nice huh?” He smirked down at her, her skin crawled and she beat back her lizard brain noticing how nice a smile he had and the size of his biceps.
“And what do you get?”
His smile widened and he leaned closer. “Why, what every man wants from a beautiful woman, a kiss”
She choked on her own laughter, relief flooding her veins. Her fingers fumbled at her mask, managing to avoid disaster by being ugly what bitter irony. She pocketed it, still chuckling.
“Sorry bud, but as you can see, I’m very far from beautiful.” She smirked up at him, secure in the freedom her appearance would grant her.
“Gorgeous” he breathed, soft enough she was sure she’d misheard him. His eyes raked across her face, drinking her in.
“Huh?” she replied diplomatically, completely off balance.
His hand curled around her neck, thumb resting gently on her jaw and leaned closer, still smiling. Why was he still smiling? She backed up a bit, confused. Closer he leaned and then he was kissing her. His soft lips pressed against hers, his chest trapping her gently against the locker. He felt like fire and her eyes fluttered shut. This must be a dream then, she decided, or she’d been horribly drugged.
His fire spread to her and she felt light headed, as if she were falling. Was it the concussion or had he drugged her somehow? He tilted her head and his other hand snaked around her hip, thumbing her stomach. Everywhere he touched was sulfur and brimstone, he must be the devil, she concluded. A confused whine left her throat without her permission. He leaned back and huffed a laugh. His green eyes locked with her brown, she blinked sluggishly, unable to process what had just happened. A deep rumbling came from his chest and he rubbed his face against her cheek.
“Good girl,” he whispered in her ear. She let out a confused whine again, wishing her lower stomach hadn’t clenched at those two simple words. She pressed herself further into the lockers for support, her legs were jelly and her metal was surging hard against her skin, only kept in check out of habit and the residual fear that her confusion hadn’t managed to crush. He ran his knuckles along her cheek before turning and leaving the room silently.
She slowly sank down to the floor, mind replaying the events that led to her being on the ground. Nothing made any sense, and the only thought that ran through her head was that she needed to talk to Jeffrey.