Teddy, though, had other ideas. “He doesn’t have a Second Study, Niko.”
That made him grin. “You think if I get in close, keep him off-balance, he won’t be able to hit me with fire.”
Teddy shoved him. “See? This is a great idea. It’ll get you moving in the right direction. I mean, come on, you were born to be a Battle Artist. You haven’t been yourself since you gave it up.”
Niko didn’t think that was the case. People simply liked to put you in boxes. If you biked to places, you were a cyclist. If you wrote a book, you were a writer. In you went to church, you were religious. It helped with birthday presents. You could always buy a guy another set of Artist robes because if they fought twice a year, they were an Artist.
Teddy searched Niko’s face. He must’ve seen the doubt. Teddy pushed beyond it. “We have a bit of a problem because Stan isn’t a slouch when it comes to simple sharira attacks. And he seems like kind of an Arena ass.”
“Like how much ass are we talking about?” Niko didn’t like where this was going.
“Like mule levels of ass.” Teddy frowned. “So Maddy asked him to fight, and he took it that he’s the next big deal. Like he’s featured on the website, so that means he and Andrew J. Coffey are basically competing at the same level.”
Niko blew out his breath. “One of those guys. He’s not young, is he?”
Teddy shook his head. “Middle-age. Hobbyist. Trying to break in.”
“As Stan Howling.” Niko surprised himself by looking forward to the fight. His chances of winning were slim to none. Yet, a slim chance was better than no chance. And if he took too much damage, the Arena Master would call the fight. Maddy wasn’t going to take any chances. Again, her small Con couldn’t handle any bad publicity.
Teddy shot him a finger gun. “As Stan Howling. Are you going to compete as Niko Black, like in the old days? Nikodemus the Blacksmith, the badass, the best of the best?”
“No, just Niko is fine.” Kowalczyk, in Polish, meant blacksmith. That sure fit his family. “I never liked Niko Black as a name.”
Vanessa’s boyfriend’s cousin showed up with the robes; they were ripe and soaking wet. The guy must’ve fought a water-based sign, a Woda, a Luna, or an Erosion. The green room was a conference room, cleared of chairs, with a table at one end. There was an empty bowl of tortilla chips, a full bowl of thickening salsa, and a selection of diet sodas. All the bottled water was gone. The big pot of coffee was empty, though there was a smaller pot of cooling decaf.
Teddy winced. “Okay, this isn’t exactly the green room. It’s more like an off lime. But we don’t need anything fancy. We’re about the fight, not the frills.”
Niko unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off. “What’s this ‘we’ you’re talking about? Even back in the day, it wasn’t like we fought together.”
“Ouch, bro.”
Niko felt the air turn sour. Teddy’s face darkened a bit. This was dangerous, talking about their past together. It hadn’t been all roses.
Teddy turned his back on him. “I’ll give you some privacy while I defend myself. First of all, you know I’ve supported you since seventh grade, when I saw you fight. Ah, even as a little Mercury Belt, your First Study attack was mighty. The Mighty Kowalczyk! Isn’t that what you fought under?”
Niko put on the top shirt of the robes and grimaced as the damp material touched his skin. Putting on wet clothes was terrible. And wet clothes that smelled of someone else’s body odor? Maddy was going to owe him big. But this was as much for Teddy as it was for her. “Yes, the Mighty Kowalczyk.” There was a name that made him grimace. He wanted to put his friend at ease. “Even when I wasn’t around for you, you were always there for me. There wasn’t ever ‘we,’ but there’s always been a ‘we.’ You know?”
“Yes, I do know. If it wasn’t for my asthma, I’d be fighting Stan Howling!” Teddy made a fist as if he expected something to happen. Nothing did. His birthday was September 5, so that made him a Gravitas, but Teddy had always been a Second Study fighter when he fought. While Teddy loved the Arena more than most people loved chocolate, he’d stopped fighting. He blamed his asthma, but Niko always thought there was more to it than that.
Niko finished buttoning the twelve buttons that went from his right collar to his left hip. He pulled on the pants. More wet clothes madness. He cinched the belt. The robes were the color of a muddy green river.
Yet when Teddy turned, he beamed. “Oh, dude, it’s so good seeing you in your Artist robes. Seriously, can’t you feel how right this is?”
Niko raised his hands over his head, stretched, and then fell into a fighting stance, feet shoulder-width apart. He bounced back and forth. “I can’t believe this is happening. It shouldn’t be happening, but I’m kind of glad it is.” He tried to temper his excitement. “But we both know I’m not going to win. I’m a crippled Mercury Belt against a Mars Belt. Best-case scenario, I don’t die. Worst case? Stan doesn’t want to give the people a good fight and takes me out in the first round.”
“Crippled?” Teddy asked.
His friend didn’t know the truth. No one did. “Cusp, you know, I’m a total cusp between Quintessence and Luna. Crippled.”
Teddy pursed his lips. “Yeah, there’s been a ton of cusps that have kicked major butt. Franklin Wash in the 1930s was a cusp Artist, a Jupiter Belt, who won the 1937 LBA Championships with a Discordant Study.”
“Franklin Wash went on to fight
