“KEEP YOUR HANDS UP, GIRL! YOUR SIDE IS WIDE OPEN!”
Niska’s booming voice rose above the din of the crowd as he instructed the smaller fighter. He stood at the front of the pushing and shouting crowd, feeling the electric energy that filled the large muggle gymnasium and threatened to spill out into the civilized streets. There were two other fights happening right now, on the opposite sides of the room, but Niska was too distracted by this fight to pay them any mind. His skin in this game was a tiny blonde girl going against a large red-headed man by the name of Martin. She was brand new to the League, and had been placed in Niska’s care less than a month ago. She wasn’t the first recruit he’d been saddled with, but she was the first with a serious addiction that Oogie has asked to be taken care of.
Withdrawal had been particularly rough on her, which was why Niska had fallen back on his go-to treatment: fighting. Niska had thrown her in with his other new recruits, the ones who were training to be Guardians or Punishers mostly, and was expecting the same thing out of her as she was of them. The physical exertion was an effective treatment for many of the symptoms, but Niska didn’t half-ass it when it came to training the next wave of fighters. She wasn’t ready for a Grimlin fight, not by a long shot, which was why he had brought her to a muggle ring. She needed to see what it was like without magic, and that was usually a big wake up call for the recruits.
Niska’s dark eyes flickered over her form, and then over Martin’s. After three decades of training, his eyes were quite sharp and he could see three or four steps in advance when it came to things like this. He tightened his lip into a deep frown, keeping himself from shouting a warning as Martin’s gloved fist landed squarely in her jaw. And she was down. Niska came forward, hopping over the side of the ring and landing beside the new recruit. He raised an eyebrow at Martin, who backed up and went back to his corner, where his trainer was waiting for him.
Niska knelt next to her, placing his hands carefully under her arms and helping her to her feet. “Good job out there today, kid,” he said, moving her to the edge of the ring. “Not enough to win, of course, but you’re getting a lot better.” They landed on the other side of the ring and Niska all but carried her over to the benches behind the crowd, sitting her down carefully. He looked at her, scratching the beard on his chin thoughtfully. She had about a dozen welts forming on her face and arm, as well as a cut lip and potentially a black eye. “You’re looking pretty worse for wear, but it’s nothing to doc can’t fix up for you in a second.” He patted her roughly on the back with his large, callused hand. “Not bad at all, kid.”
A roar of applause from the other side of the room caught Niska’s attention. It seemed like one of the other fights had drawn quite a crowd. Niska sniffed the air carefully, his eyes flashing golden as he activated his magus. Usually in a place like this, the magic in the air was pretty negligible, what with it only being muggles in the area. Niska had sensed another wizard when he walked in, but that was because sometimes wizards liked to spectate these bouts too, and Niska couldn’t blame them. But it looked like the third wizard in the room wasn’t a spectator, but a fighter. And that battle was just about to end, as the smaller man brought his opponent down with a few well-placed blows.
The wizard made his way out the ring, and began to walk through the crowd. Niska’s eyes narrowed, noting the pale red magic that seemed to be dripping from the boy’s skin. It tasted tinny and bitter, not necessarily as blood soaked as his own, but certainly enough to make note of it. As the other wizard approached, Niska instructed his new recruit to head off without him while he cleaned up. She nodded and left, promising to head straight to the medical bay once she got back to headquarters. Niska had just finished gathering their things, packing up the two duffles and zipping them closed, when the wizard came up beside him and began to clean and wipe himself down.
“Nice fight,” the Russian man said gruffly, nodding to the younger man. “You wiped the floor with that guy. Then again, muggles aren’t a particularly hardy bunch, so you might as well be playing with a handicap. If you’re looking for a place that’s a little rougher than this training ground, you should consider coming by my fights in Knockturn Alley. You won't have it as easy with them though; my people are a fair bit of trouble.”
