Wight

by Dorien Vincent

  Tset walked on, the drifter no longer drifting beneath the steady snowflakes that did, the leer set on his face as he watched, unblinking, the cold night sky for morning.

  Tset decided proper burial was unnecessary - the drifter an enemy, and who honored the dishonorable?

  Now his thoughts were beginning to haunt him this night - where did they come from? Where did he learn such things he knew not? What was this heat he felt at the defeat of an enemy? The light craving for what might be more? He resolved not to think down that road, but to learn to talk.

  Speaking gibberish to himself was hardly acceptable, so instead, he whistled pleasantly as he walked down the road.

  A curious thing happened - Tset was spotted by police officers on patrol, they shone a bright light over him and he crouched, holding his hands, which had long, black fingernails on them, up to protect his face.

  The police almost definitely saw the claw-like nails, the eyes, and the blood. But they only flashed their siren once, as if in indecision, and then continued calmly on.

  Tset had some idea that the police should have done more, he didn't know why, but, wasn't that what was right? Police... exactly what were they? Ideas crossed in his mind and confused him.

  The sounds of revelry caught Tset's attention - it was faint, as though coming from underground. He went towards it.

  Almost a mile away he found the source - in a sort of domed basement arena there were many men crowded, clutching money bills and tickets in their sweaty fists, screaming at two heavies in a metal cage who were fighting each other.

  The Pit

  Tset crawled down from his perch near one of the slitted vents and went to the door. A huge man stood there, beard braided and red, backwards baseball cap on, barrel-chested. He had drawings, or tattoos, all over his arms and peeking above the collar of his large T. He crossed his arms when he saw Tset, "What you want?" The man eyed him with no small menace.

  Tset shrugged.

  "You a fighter?" Don presumed he was one - standing out here in the snow, cooling down, fresh blood on him. He was too fit and too thin to be anything else than one of the lightweight crazies.

  Tset thought for a moment, and then remembered his drifter friend. He nodded.

  "You got ID papers?"

  Tset shook his head.

  "Let me see what's in your pockets." The man had a small baton in his fist now.

  Tset turned out his pockets. There were the bills, but in his other pocket was a passport - it was false, as it didn't have his name in it, someone else's. But there was his picture inside and his address and other things. All the information may provide clues. Clues to what, Tset didn't know, but maybe a little bit more definition on his current existence.

  Tset could not protest the man tearing the passport away from him and depositing it in a pile of other passports and City ID Cards. The man put a hand on Tset's chest as he reached for it. "Regulations. Dunno how you got in before, but if you die in there, you don't wanna be IDed. If you come back out, I'll give you the thing back, but if you don't, I'll get rid of it for you. Fair?"

  Tset guessed so and nodded.

  "Good. You can head in again."

  Inside was crazy. It smelled musty, sweaty and like stale cheap beer. Men all around were screaming as the fighters in the ring exchanged blows.

  Tset pushed through the crowd, heading he knew not where while something he didn't know was by Lunatic Calm pumped steadily from aerial speakers. Until someone grabbed him and pulled him aside. She was beautiful. "Hello!" She yelled at him, "Are you here to sign up?"

  Tset nodded.

  She winked at him, "I thought so!"

  She grabbed his wrist and dragged him to a sound-proofed room on the far side of the ring, below the bleachers. "Don told me you were heading in, and were new here, so I thought I'd come find you."

  Tset nodded, still appreciating her.

  She handed him tape, "Do you know how to put this on?"

  He shook his head. She put her hands on her hips, "Strong silent type, yeah?"

  Tset shrugged. She laughed nicely. Tset liked the laugh.

  He pointed to his mouth and worked it, shaking his head and saying, "Nh."

  "Oh, drugs?"

  Tset thought, then shrugged. Who knew what had gone on in the tank.

  She laughed again, putting her hand to her mouth. Tset wondered how something like this had come to be here in this place of men.

  She took the tape and started wrapping his hands. "Oh my! We're gonna have to do something about these claws, aren't we?" Tset looked at his nails. They were black, and long enough to dig a gouge in someone.

  She picked up a metal file and started on the nails. When she was finished, she taped his ankles.

  "You're welcome." She said with a sly smile.

  "Nh." He said back. She giggled.

  At that moment, music filled the room, five men had entered. They were all ratty, except for one, who came over and kissed the girl. He was smiling and friendly and relatively clean.

  He held out his hand to Tset, "I'm Tyler. I just bought your contract."

  Tset nodded.

  One of the other men gasped, "Holy Toledo, check out those fuckin' eyes, man!"

  Tset looked down.

  Tyler smiled, indeed distressed, but since Jessie liked him, he couldn't be all bad, "You got a name, son?"

  The girl, still smiling, said, "He can't talk, Ty. Drugs or broken jaw or something. He hasn't said anything but 'Nh' since he came in.

  "Nh." Said Tset, knowingly, to Tyler.

  Tyler chuckled."He's got a sense of humor, anyway."

  Tset held up his hand and wiggled it over his other palm, demonstrating he could write.

  He was handed butcher paper and a thick, flat pencil.

  Tset carefully drew the letters he knew to be his name. The S and the E were backwards.

  One of the men asked, "How the fuck do you pronounce that?" And proceeded to try, Tset was offended and embarrassed but Tyler piped in, "Like 'Set,' donk, it's that Egyptian sun god. Right, Tset?" Tyler smiled at him. Tset nodded quickly, liking Tyler and his girl even more.

  "So this is what you want to be announced as?" Again, a nod.

  "Okay, hey, Jess, guys, leave the room, Tset n' me are gonna talk business."

  Jessie pecked him on the cheek and left, the men following.

  "Okay, so you understand English, yeah?"

  Nod.

  "Okay, good, so here's the terms and conditions of that contract I bought. Basically, you're not indebted to me in any way, you got that? I don't own you and you can come and go as you please."

  Nod.

  "Good, but, any time you're here in the Pit and in any associated matches, you have got to get my signed permission to the fight. You understand?"

  Nod.

  "That's important. So, you really got it?"

  Nod.

  "Excellent, and the contract entitles me to 50% of your earnings by Eurodollar, for every match you fight. And that makes it my responsibility to make sure you don't get killed, okay?"

  Nod.

  "Okay, and the rules in the ring are fists and feet only, bare chested, no shoes, no weapons. Besides that, it's all out. Don't bother calling a judge if the guy you're fighting tries something dirty or wicked, there aren't any. But a fighter can be put to death by majority vote if he cheats. You got that?"

  Tset nodded one last time.

  "Okay, so I'm putting you in a fight tonight. A lighter weight one so I can see what you can do. Don't murder the guy 'cause I promised the managers here that you were basically light weight. You only weigh what, 140?"

  Tset held up two and three taped fingers.

  "230? Fuck, man!"

  Tset shook his head, held up 1, 3, 2. He failed to ruminate on how he knew his weight, but he was sure of it.

  Tyler calmed down, "Okay, good. 240's unreal, but I've seen weirder. Speaking of weirder, what the fuck's with your eyes? That's some scary shit. Like poo
ls!"

  Tset looked down again. He had to cover these things up.

  Tyler smiled, "Hey, it's fine. You're a bit scary, but you seem alright. It's what's in that counts, not out."

  "In." Said Tset.

  Tyler smiled. "Yeah, that's right."

  Tset

  Act II

  A Name

  Tset's first fight, happening an hour later, was lined up to be with one of the other manager's smallest fighters. A man named Frederick. Really low-class and low-rung as the terminology went around the Pit. Tyler smiled, "If you're any good, and I think you are, by the blood that ain't yours, you'll do fine. But remember, don't murder the fucker."

  A few minutes later, Tset had been hosed off, toweled, given a clean set of pants and sent on his way. He stood on his side of the cage, while the announcer announced him, "On this side, weighing in at eighty pounds, Slapstick!"

  The crowd laughed, Tset turned to look at Tyler curiously, Tyler was yelling at Ricky, Frederick's manager. Tset read their lips.

  "What the fuck is this, Ricky?" Ty was shaking a piece of paper in Ricky's face that had been handed out to the managers and coaches. Tset could not read it, but it stated that Frederick was being replaced by LockJaw. LockJaw was Ricky's meanest meat for sure.

  "Hey, calm down, Ty, he's a new guy, I thought I'd test his mettle. Plus, he's a bit of a freak, the sooner he dies, the better, I think."

  "Fuck you, Ricky. Jessie likes the dude, so if you frigging go and kill him off, you know what I'll tell her? Your damn fault."

  "Yeah, yeah."

  "And I just paid sevenny Gs for him! So fuck you, man! Screwing me over just 'cause I won the god damn bid."

  Ricky was angry, he wasn't screwing Ty for the bid, he was doing it for Jessie.

  Tset turned and looked back at the opposite door. The announcer called out, "And on this side, Fred... oh, wait, I've received notice that Fred fell ill," Laughter in the stands, "But filling in for him, in this corner, two-hundred and eighty pounds, is LockJaw!"

  The door was thrown open and LockJaw whirled into the ring, roaring and swinging his massive fists. He had steel studs for teeth and stood a foot and a half taller than Tset - Tset was 5'10".

  The crowd exploded, screaming and cheering. Tset felt caged, and then smiled at the irony, but by then the bell had rung and LockJaw was on him, an animal rage in his face.

  Tset ducked slightly but caught one of those hands across his face, knocking him flat across the grating that served as the floor. The steel criss-cross left a bleeding mark from the outside of his right shoulder to midway over his left chest. His face was a bruise.

  The crowd cheered.

  Tset was unsure what to do, really, the blow didn't do much besides make his left ear ring a bit, in all actuality, but Tyler had said not to murder his opponent. Obviously this thing wouldn't go down unless Tset did exactly that. Too much adrenaline, and something else, in its sweat, told Tset it would keep on attacking until Tset had removed and rotisseried his heart.

  Tset didn't try to remember what a rotisserie was or why he knew the word before the thing came down on him again, both fists, attempting to crush his bones.

  Tset was well out the way and sticking like a fly on the far wall of the cage, toes and fingers gripping the mesh. He searched around for something to do, but, finding nothing, put his attention back on the monster as it moved.

  Tset noticed that no matter where he looked, his eyes never lost focus - he had no peripheral vision, everything was always sharply defined.

  This was the way it was as long as he could remember, but it still was odd - weren't eyes to focus on one thing?

  But LockJaw was crashing into where Tset had been hanging and Tset was busy moving away, enough of that reverie, too.

  Still, an ANSWER! He couldn't upset Tyler, no he couldn't.

  The crowd kept chanting, "LockJaw! LockJaw!"

  He looked to them, to scorn them visually, but then he saw Jessie, close in on the cage, looking at him. Worried. He looked to her quizzically and shrugged, she nodded to him.

  He took the nod to be a nod of "Kill him."

  Not because she'd meant it that way, or because he'd even really interpreted that way, she was just worried - no, 'I need an excuse to give Tyler after I beat the shit out of this bastard.'

  He lunged and jumped on its back, landing a knee on its spine. It was quicker than Tset thought and had him by the foot, smashing him into the sides of the cage and floor, bringing much blood and blinding Tset in one eye.

  The tape, wet now, slipped and Tset had a brief flight into a wall, where he landed with his fingers catching the mesh, holding his body out, awaiting the charge that came almost too early, but not too early. Tset's taped heel crashed into LockJaw's nose, spraying blood.

  Tset dropped to his feet, crouched, Lockjaw gained his wits and brought a massive arm down again, Tset simply grabbed, stepped in and jabbed the armpit, popping cartilage.

  LockJaw screamed and dove, his arm unresponsive; Tset sidestepped out of his grasp and snap kicked his chin on the way to a less crowded part of the cage.

  LockJaw was stunned and fell to his knees.

  Tset cocked his leg, kicked LockJaw's head, knocking him to his stomach, knocking him out cold.

  The bell sounded, Tset, covered in his own blood and sweat stepped forward and looked at the crowd again. They didn't respond quite - the bell-sounder had been pre-emptive, LockJaw was already rising, opening his mouth.

  Tset turned and blocked in time and the only sounds were the tumblers on LockJaw's jaws swinging closed, the crunch of bone and meat and a scream from Jessie.

  LockJaw tore at Tset's forearm, his teeth dug in deep, continuing to squeeze in, cutting through flesh, almost through the arm entire.

  Tset was in immense pain, and he yelled in LockJaw's face, trying to somehow wriggle free - but it was useless; he would lose his arm.

  LockJaw's good arm reached up to crush Tset's head with the mighty fingers, but Tset had an idea and dodged, jerking away, and then caught purchase with his own teeth, tearing armflesh - eventually, and much quicker than LockJaw, finding undeniable purchase on bone.

  He looked into the eyes of the beastman, they were angry and fearful, but the jaws still attached.

  That glance, that contact fueled an immense rancor, and in his rage his jaws clenched until he felt the arm bones snap.

  LockJaw screamed in horror through his mouthful, though Tset was calm-faced when he released, kicked, straddled, and pummeled LockJaw with one taped fist until the jaw came apart in a wash of bolts, blood and teeth.

  There was still silence, the two shiny red fighters down, LockJaw holding his arm and roaring wetly from his open throat, Tset still, crouched.

  Then Tset stood again, the crowd roaring this time for him, drowning out the madly clanging bell, Ricky's screams to the medical staff to staunch LockJaw's arm. He cared not for them, but for victory. Or more, for LockJaw's defeat. The pain was washed away, the embarrassment.

  Then, the chant started, "Slapstick! Slapstick!"

  This annoyed Tset. He puffed his chest out and howled at them:

  MY

  NAME

  IS

  TSSEEEET.

  Bits of LockJaw were still on his tongue and in his teeth and his face was a scary, liquid red/black.

  The chanting stopped. All was silent once again.

  A new chant came soon, "Tset, Tset, Tset!"

  Tset smiled, "That's right." He held his arms above his head, one bleeding freely and oddly crushed. One fist, the other a limp and crippled hand.

  An hour later, the fights were over, Tset was being bandaged and his eye covered. Jessie was doing the work.

  Tyler came into the room, the dressing room from before. "Holy shit, Tset."

  Tset nodded.

  "At least now we know you can talk."

  Tset replied, "Nh. My name is Tset."

  Tyler paused, and was annoyed. "So, what the fuck is it, amne
sia?"

  That word... Tset rose despite the best efforts of the girl. He waved her off and said, "Umneeshuh."

  "Yeah, amnesia. You know what that means?"

  Tset see-sawed his hand, 'kinda.'

  "It's basically where you forget certain things about who you are, or who you were. Some people who get it have flashes of memories or remember disrelated things. It's normally caused, s'far as I can tell, by some sort of trauma. You had any trauma, recently, Tset?"

  Tyler thought momentarily about what sort of trauma could be worse than LockJaw.

  Tset nodded. "Yh." He said, thinking the same thing.

  "Maybe someday you can tell me. Do you know where you live?"

  "Nh."

  "Wow... dilemma. Guess you can crash at our place."

  Tset's stomach piped in noisily. He patted it. "Hungry."

  "Of course you would know that word."

  Jessie giggled again.

  Don stepped in. "Tset. I owe you a passport, man."

  Tset pointed and asked Tyler, "Don, man?"

  Tyler chuckled, Tset was odd - from serious to light in a heart beat, "Yes."

  Don was confused but handed Tset his passport - it was charred and destroyed.

  "Some dudes flipped a car, as they do sometimes at six in the goddamn morning, and knocked a burning trashcan into the ID pile. So this thing's toast, literally."

  "Lidderally." Tset examined the passport. Then he nibbled it jokingly and waggled it at Don. He wore a small grin. The passport was tossed into the furnace. He shrugged physically and mentally. Thinking, 'No lead there now.'

  "C'mon, Hungry." Jessie said, "Let's get you some food."

  Don had a cocked eyebrow aimed at Tset's back as a he left. Tyler hit his shoulder on the way past and told him not to worry about it. "He's a bit..." And Tyler waggled his index finger at his temple. "You dig?"

  "Oh."

  On the way home, as dawn broke, they stopped by a fast food place. Tset purchased, with Jessie's voice, and ate €$50 in food.

  He got some odd looks from the patrons and staff, but Tyler and Jessie waved and smiled while Tset put things away.

  On the way out, Tset removed his eye patch and threw it into the can with his food trash.