20 MMA Bears Two - Part 3

There was nothing Lorne could do about it. He had to fight, it was that simple. The Elder had done everything he could to prepare him. Gage had spent the last few weeks training Lorne as best he could. But while they kept the truth from Lorne, they all knew — he just wasn't a fighter.

This fight was taking place in The Dragon. It was on the West coast of the country, but fighters, and their supporters, were duty bound to travel wherever they had to. There were venues all over the world. The Dragon had been a venue for the secretive tournament for over 200 years. As the shifters fought, sometimes to the death, the members of the Cabal would look on, drinking their expensive wines, betting on the outcome; but most of reveling in the carnage.

Tonight was Lorne's night. His first fight as the chosen champion of the Swiftclaw clan. He'd have to get through three fights before he would be allowed to voluntarily stand down and let another champion be chosen by the Cabal.

But that was easier said than done.

A hush fell across the room. The walls were decorated in Chinese mythological pictures, depicting dragons and warriors doing battle. No such fictitious creatures were there, however. Lorne's opponent was from India. And that did no bode well for him, as he'd never even seen a shifter like that before.

Champions were never told of their opponent until the night of the fight, the Cabal found that most entertaining; they believed it was a better test of a true champion. And that was all they cared about. Gage had been champion of the Tournament for years before he stepped down to take care of Lacey and their child, and the Cabal were not too pleased about that. It had cost them money.

The longer a champion reigned the more interest there was in the competition. And that meant there was more money to be made. Gage stepping down had wiped the slate clean, interest had dipped. It seemed now that the Cabal had chosen Lorne to somehow punish Swiftclaw for this.

Lorne looked across the floor as his opponent entered the room. The man was slender, tall, yet muscular. His eyes gleamed golden, as with all shifters, but deep down Lorne felt even more apprehensive than he already had. There was something about the way this fighter walked onto the floor. His gait was different. Almost… Cat-like.

A gong rang out.

The room fell quiet as a stout, balding man, sweating in his expensive suit, walked to the middle of the floor. Loudly he proclaimed: "Welcome to the Tournament, fighters, trainers, gamblers. The Cabal is most appreciative of your efforts."

Applause filtered through the room before dying down.

"As many of you know, our most successful reigning champion of all time, Gage, has chosen to stay at home surrounded by diapers and a pretty pure blood."

Laughter echoed around. The Cabal seemed committed to insulting Swiftclaw's honor.

"We wish him well… The title of champion is therefore up for grabs. We feel it only fitting to allow the Swiftclaw clan to show their teeth, and compete directly for the title. With that in mind, we've chosen Lorne to represent their clan, one of their largest members."

The Elder watched apprehensively from the sidelines. He knew, this was all a ruse, something darker was afoot.

"He will be facing Baagh, from the Ladakh region of Jammu. We hear he will do well," the stout man padded his face with a white cloth and looked at Baagh, clearly showing that there would be consequences if he did not win.

"The winner will be the new champion of the Tournament. Fighters, bear your teeth!"

A ferocious cheer rose up from those watching at the sidelines, placing their bets.

The gong sounded once more, and Baagh rushed towards Lorne, his face filled with venomous rage.

Lorne transformed into his bear form as soon as Baagh launched his attack. There was a gasp throughout the room. They'd never seen a fighter that big before.

Baagh hesitated for a moment, but as Lorne let out a roar, Baagh transformed. Orange hair poked through his skin, stripes, teeth, black lines across his fur. He was now a tiger, far more dextrous than Lorne.

Leaping up into the air, Baagh let out a horrible hiss as he landed on Lorne's back.

Lorne swung his claws fervently missing. Baagh then sank his teeth into the bear's neck. Lorne let out an almighty cry of pain, before reaching round and throwing Baagh to the ground.

Baagh was agile, but Lorne was stronger than him.

"Aim for the body, Lorne!" The Elder cried, knowing that with Lorne's power he could do serious damage if he could just land a blow.

But the jeering and cries of the crowd drowned out this advice. Lorne moved forward, blood gushing from his neck.

He tried his best to pin the cat down, but Baagh was so quick, and so filled with rage. Lorne just didn't have that same anger in him.

Baagh leaped up again, his claw tearing across Lorne's snout, then another to his stomach, and another to his leg. Lorne's huge hulking frame collapsed to the floor.

It was over. Except for one more thing. The gong rang out, it was time for the Decision. When the winning fighter would choose to either give their opponent mercy, or go for the kill.

Baagh turned to the stout balding man who had introduced the fight and grinned at him with blood pouring down his razor sharp teeth. Baagh then walked over to the side of the room where the Elder stood, stared at him and hissed — "the Swiftclaws are finished."

The tiger walked over to Lorne, who wheezed and coughed looking up at his opponent through tear filled eyes. Baagh grinned again, and with one bite, cut Lorne's jugular.

The suited figures of the Cabal jumped up applauding and cheering for Baagh. As the crowd surrounded the tiger to congratulate him as their new champion, the Elder rushed over to Lorne on the ground. The blood oozed out from the wound in his neck. Lorne, the largest, kindest bear the clan had known, looked up at the Elder.

The Elder patted his friend gently. "Go now, Lorne. Walk among the woods above, and be at peace."

Lorne closed his eyes, and he was gone.

Bran was taking Elizabeth to Well-Done. It was a grubby little restaurant on the main street which only served meat. Contrary to popular belief, shifters were very fond of overly cooked meat when eating in their human form; when in beast form, that was a different story.

Bran and Elizabeth walked into the restaurant. Elizabeth looked the place up and down. It was quiet, just a few people eating dinner. The tables were cheap plastic, as were the chairs, the tablecloth a bright red and white chequered pattern. A fluorescent bug zapper buzzed in the corner.

"Really? All the places in town, this is where you take me on my first night out?" Elizabeth said, half joking.

Bran hesitated. He really wanted her to enjoy herself. They'd only known each other for two days, but her feisty nature, her dedication to helping people through medicine, not to mention her long flowing blond hair and bright green eyes, all combined to have an overpowering affect on Bran. He knew the Elder wouldn't approve, so he wouldn't act on those feelings. Still, he wanted her to have a good time, to get a good impression of shifters… And him.

"I'm only joking, Bran. Don't look so sad. I love a good steak!" Elizabeth said, gently patting him on the shoulder.

After ordering, they were presented with the biggest sirloin steak Elizabeth had ever seen, chargrilled. Bran laughed as Elizabeth tore into it with glee.

"Are you sure you don't have any shifter blood?" Bran asked, laughing.

Juices dripped down Elizabeth's chin. "Nope, but can't a girl like the finer things in life?"

After a while, the conversation turned to their lives. Elizabeth was really interested in Bran's upbringing.

"How did your parents show you to shift?"

Bran looked distant for a moment. "Uh… They didn't. My parents died when I was very young."

Elizabeth looked pained for a moment. "I'm really sorry, Bran…" Deep down she'd discounted Bran as a young shifter with little to him underneath, but the more she was exposed to him, the more she felt was hidden, waiting to be revealed. In a good way.

Bran smiled. "Don't be sorry, Elizabeth. I was very young. My father died in… Well, he was killed in a fight, put it that way. Afterwards my mother tried to go after those responsible, and… Well… My Aunt brought me up after that."

"That must have been difficult…"

"It was. It is. But Swiftclaw is a great place, and I love my clan. It's all I have, and I'd do anything to protect it." Bran continued cutting up his steak, and washing it down with a cold beer. "What about you, any family?"

"Yeah, two brothers. My mum and dad live out West."

"You close?"

"Yes, we are. But they were a bit unsure about me coming here. Isn't every day someone gets invited into a shifter community, in fact it's unheard of, I still don't understand the change in heart."

Just as Elizabeth finished the thought and her steak, a cold breeze came into the restaurant, and with it, three large men entered. One of them, a large man with black hair and stubble, dressed in a suit, immediately walked over to their table.

Bran didn't look at him at first. He just kept staring at his steak.

"Boy, you should show your elders a little respect, and acknowledge their presence."

Bran continued looking at his food. "It's okay, LoHawk, I smelled you as soon as you opened the door. I knew you were here."

LoHawk let out a deep guttural growl. His eyes grew golden, but he stayed in his human form. Finally, Bran turned to him.

"What can I do for you?" Bran said, but he was not smiling. Indeed, Elizabeth noticed that Bran's happy go lucky nature had immediately taken a backseat, replaced by a stern expression.

Pulling up a chair, LoHawk wiped it with a handkerchief and sat down at the table.

"Hi. I'm Elizabeth." She outstretched her hand in friendship.

LoHawk didn't even look at her. He only turned to Bran. "Keep your foul blood to itself, Bran."

Although Elizabeth had never heard the term before, she knew in the way it was said that "foul blood" was an insult, no doubt akin to a racist label for non-shifting humans.

"You better watch your tongue, LoHawk. Someone's liable to tear it out," Bran's anger was clearly growing.

In response the two other men who had entered with LoHawk stepped to the table, but LoHawk raised his hand. "Not here. Didn't I already say that you should respect your elders?"

"There's only one elder in this town, and that's his name. And he'll be mighty displeased with you and your men if he thinks for a second that you've threatened Elizabeth." Bran wiped his mouth with a napkin and glared at LoHawk, unflinchingly.

"I came here to tell you to keep your foul blood out of our way. I don't want to see her out in the open like this. You never can tell, she might have an accident. Wouldn't want the frail thing to break, as these types do, all too easily…"

Bran stood up, his eyes growing golden as his anger increased, but LoHawk only laughed in response. A deep, malevolent chuckle.

"You really are funny, young Bran, perhaps one day when I'm Elder, I'll keep you around to amuse me." LoHawk stood up, again not even looking at Elizabeth.

As he and his men reached the door to leave, LoHawk turned and said "by the way, I hear your friend Lorne is coming back in a box. Shame." He grinned widely and then left.