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The lean man settled back in a fighting stance once more, throwing a few practice jabs at the air. I knew he was stalling, afraid to step in the ring against a mystery opponent. He shouldn't be. There was nothing to worry about, really. He would die quickly, and that would be that. Now if he would just hurry up and get a move on. I had places to be.

I took a minute to inspect my claws, making sure they were in good shape. Long, sharp, unbroken. My armour was flawless, shifting with me, rippling smoothly against my skin like water. It took on the form of scarlet scales, mirroring the name I'd been given: Dragon. Monster. I really couldn't argue with that.

"Ready, little girl?" I looked up, grinned. Let my lengthy tongue slip out, showing off the fork in it as I did so. Gave me a lisp, but the intimidation factor was worth it.

"Ready to kill you?" I questioned. I tried to stay positive, but odds were I'd never lose, not once in my life. I hadn't yet, not in seven years, so I doubted tonight would be any different.

"Keep dreaming." I grinned at his words, pointed teeth flashing in the harsh, fluorescent lighting of the concrete tunnel. I didn't dignify his statement with a response, instead focusing on keeping my wings tucked in tight. Not so good for close quarters combat, but a really killer asset to have. Good thing the stadium was all ours tonight.

My bare, feet shuffled as a chill breeze swept down the hall, giving the impression of cold. I wasn't, not in the slightest, but weakness, a chink, however imaginary, in my otherwise perfect armour, would make things more interesting. My opponent would see that something could affect me. In reality, I hadn't found anything yet, but I could hope.

"Next fight: Dragon versus Chainsaw." The loudspeakers out in the stadium echoed our chosen names back down the tunnel, deafening even at this distance. Chainsaw, huh? I'd remember that. I'd need it when I beat him. Poor guy. He had no idea what he was getting into.

"Listen, it's not too late to back down. Just tell them you don't want to anymore, it'll be fine. Or, I dunno, say you want to fight, for the money, but not to the death. We could make it look like you died and you could leave after they drag you out of the arena." I was pleading with him, desperate. So it appeared. I just didn't feel like getting blood under my nails again tonight. I let my feet morph slightly, revealing claws, scales, polished to a dull gleam. He didn't notice. He was too busy scoffing. I rolled my eyes. Useless humans. "Whatever. Let's get this over with."

Out steps matched up almost perfectly; for every one he took, I had to take two. My current form was young, the usual shape I lived in. It was the only form I could be defeated in. Wouldn't ever happen, but oh well. We moved ourselves to the short, squat pillars in the middle of the stadium. My claws gripped the sides of it. I unzipped my windbreaker, throwing both it and my previous form off with the toss of a hand. Instantly, the crowd gasped. It was me, the infamous monster, wrecker of man and ender of life. The man before me was a little put-off, I could tell. Still didn't run, though. What a shame.

My massive blood-red wings stretched high above my head, settling onto my back again gently, carefully. A row of spines down my back were nestled between the wings, leading up to an impressive crest of horns. My face was almost human, just red and covered in scales. A bit of a muzzle, but who's gonna judge? The only major feature off was the nose spine that curved wickedly back toward my face That and the slitted, dead grey eyes. My body was human too, save for the odd spike or spine and of course my tail. My hands and feet also morphed into clawed talons, but I still had all the digits, so I'm not sure how much change really happened.

In front of my eyes, my opponent shifted. It was almost imperceptible, but bits of what looked like teeth were whirring in lines down his exposed arms, his ankles, and across his sandaled feet. They quickly cut through his shoes, but I figure the rest of it was cut from sterner stuff cause that held up just fine. If the fabric could make it, so could I. He shook the sandal scraps off his feet, glaring across the open arena at me. I knew I was short, young to be in here, but here I didn't notice, didn't mind. No one could tell from this distance, and the pillar and wings helped disguise it well.

Overhead, the floating deck of announcers turned bright red. It ticked, along with an amplified voice yelling "Three!" Turned yellow. "Two!" Blue. "One!" Turned green with the next shout of, "go!"

I went. I never stood still in a fight, learned from an early age that was not the way to go. Instead, my wings propelled me forward as I leapt to the sandy arena floor. Claws ready, sharp, arms set in a fighting stance even as I walked briskly forward. Chainsaw stood still, frozen to the pillar. His eyes were big. He knew who I was. I did hate to kill a fan.

As I got closer, the look of fear faded into one of loathing. Ah. not a fan. Maybe I'd killed a relative. Oh well, not my fault. He jumped down from the pillar, each step leaving scrapes in the concrete beneath the thin layer of sand, gouges deeper than my little finger. His teeth-spines were longer, sharper now. I guess the name did make sense, after all.

We met somewhere in the middle of the two pillars, but closer to his side. Maybe I could force him back and use the pillar as high ground. I leapt over him, a risky move that paid off as I landed softly behind him, delivered a solid kick to his back just between two rows of spines, and swung myself around to face his pillar. A few long, loping strides and I'd reached it. One quick hop and I was ready to face him, perched on the squat pillar. He came at me swinging, clearly used to obliterating everything in his path. His hands found their way onto the top of the small platform, but I noticed he was having trouble sending spikes onto his fingers. They were a bit small for the chainsaw effect. I stepped on them and he howled. Rarely got hurt, I guess. This would be easier than I thought.

He dropped back down with a growl ad glared up at me. I shrugged, smiled back. A good strategy is to really make your opponent angry. Throws them off their game big-time. His face was red with rage, a ball of fury. I stood up abruptly, backed away from the edge. Time for another gamble. He took the opening and jumped up, quick so he could get his footing before I shoved him backward. I was already lunging forward, fist cocked back and aimed for where his face would be. Before his feet even landed, he was sent plummeting back to the ground. I watched him regain his footing impassively. Another weak point. He stayed at the base of the pillar, jumping up with one arm outstretched for a time. I guess he was hoping to catch a foot, but I was too quick for that. I waited till he was mid-jump, then leapt to the side, jumping off the pillar. My arm caught me, claws sinking into the hard stone as I continued my momentum forward, landing both feet squarely in his face. Things were looking up.

The momentum jerked my hold on the stone loose and I let it go. I didn't need that anymore anyway. Instead, I landed on my feet once more, catlike in a crouch. He was moaning on the ground, clutching his face. Eyes closed. I kicked again, watching his head fly backwards to collide with the hard arena floor. Sand isn't soft. The concrete beneath it was even less so. Blood, the first blood of the fight, was painting it my favorite color. Red. My blood wasn't red. I was a little too mutated for that. His was a lovely shade of it, though, dark and brooding. I smiled again. Too much fun.

"You. . . " he spat. More red. "You monster. . ."

"So I've been told." I didn't make a point of talking with my prey. Then again, I often didn't have the opportunity. They rarely gave me a chance to speak, so I didn't tend to return the courtesy.

"You killed her." That got my attention.

"You'll have to be a bit more specific. I kill people for a living." The crowd was boo-ing at the lack of action. That would be coming out of my pay. I half-heartedly kicked his face again, watched his nose crumple a little, give beneath my foot. More blood. More red. More cheers.

"She. . she was all I had in this world." He struggled upright, but just before he caught his balance, I nudged him back down. Barely took any effort.

"Girlfriend? Wife?"

"Daughter." He coughed up blood. I felt a little guilty to have taken from him. But not really.

"Want to join her?"

"She did it so I would have money. So I could pay for my procedure and live."

"Aren't you kind of throwing that away now?" I was getting bored, too. Just like the crowd, I lived for action. My finishing move was always to rip the heart from my opponents. Red. Lots of it. I glanced down at my nails. Flecks of dried blood sat heavy beneath them. That was my last one. They looked a little lonely.

"No." He coughed. "I'm avenging her." His eyes narrowed, flaming with anger. Suddenly I got the feeling he wasn't quite out of steam.

With a lunge, he started forward, arms out, whirring with bits of bone or whatever his chainsaw's 'teeth' were made up of. I leapt back almost as quickly, but not quite fast enough. His fist collided with my forearm, and though I was able to redirect his motion toward the ground, he still managed to leave scratches on my perfect scales. Those would take hours to buff out. I growled. He shook from the sudden exertion, from the adrenaline coursing through him, from the rage and bloodlust and hate that had brought him to the arena in the first place. He probably come for money, then when he found himself wrestling his daughter's killer, duty and honor had taken hold. I felt bad, but I simply did have to kill him.

"Hold still and this won't hurt quite so much," I said, clashing with him again. One eye was tracking the chains running across his skin, the other fastened on his eyes. The eyes tell you what the body is about to do. Someone looks at your leg, they mean to sweep or trip you. Might also be after a knee. They look at the chest, it's a solid punch or a high kick. If they look you in the eyes, they mean business. He was looking at my feet. Great.

I readied myself, waiting for the eventual weak point I knew would present itself. He would be sweeping in a matter of seconds, probably as soon as he got tired of a flurry of punches. I blocked all of them, but my strength was fading slightly. He would be far more exhausted than I, though. There! A flash of skin, clear and exposed. He dropped his right arm after the punches were over, and it coincided with a gap in the teeth. It vanished and I prepared for the pattern to repeat itself. My mind was going a million miles a second; dodge, duck, block, deflect, counter strike. Then I saw the same spine, the same sequence, and without allowing myself time to think on it, my claws were buried in his chest and I could feel the belts of muscle sliding across each other, carrying the spines that made him Chainsaw. I pushed deeper. He staggered back, but the teeth had stopped now. If I couldn't get the heart out, at least he'd still bleed out. My fingers worked their way deeper, foot hooking behind his to bring him down so I could press further into his chest. His ribcage slowly caved under the pressure of my weight, my sharp claws sinking in, sliding between his ribs, yanking open a hole, leaving his body horribly mutilated. Enough space for my wrist now. There it was, pump-pump-pumping. Lub-dub. Goodbye, Chainsaw. I'm sure it was an honor.

My talons wrapped around the wet, firm muscle, yanking back once I knew I had a strong hold. Work, always so much work. People were cheering. They didn´t know the monster they cheered for. All they knew was that I put on a show. I won. So I was worth cheering for. Ah, here we go. The sinews and arteries and veins holding the heart in place gave out one by one, snapping and sliding and dragging bits of meat with them out of his chest, allowing me to rip it out through the hole I had created getting to it. Hearts are always nasty, but I eat them anyway. It's the only real meat I get, so I guess that's part of it. Also it's just kinda my thing.

My teeth were still lengthened, in my shifted form. I could feel the cavities of the heart as I bit into it, feel the blood still in there bursting, leaking, oozing forth all over my chin and front. Blood. Hard to digest. Always gives me a stomach ache. Interestingly enough, I found that drinking milk after a match seems to help with digesting it.

The floating island settled over my head, cameras flashing and lights strobing. Couldn´t spit this thing out now. I tore another chunk out of Chainsaw's heart and swallowed it. My stomach acid was stronger in this form, like every other part of me. A few more carefully-placed bites, to give the media the news they were looking for, and they hardly notice as I threw the rest away, drawing forth a dramatic roar and flashing my wings to anyone in the audience who cared.

By the time the show finally ended, signs of strain were starting to show. I´d been in this form for far too long. I needed to shift out of it, to rest and recover. I needed to go home.

My journey was waylaid by adoring fans, faces painted red, red like blood, red like my scales. I grinned, teeth sharp and pointed, ears back and horns flaring. They screamed, cheered. I left them. My manager handed me a bag heaping with cash. Both my pay for the fight, and the results of the betting we'd started on the side. I knew he'd already taken his cut, but I reached in, handed him a wad of bills anyway. He worked hard.

They were bloody. I'd forgotten about my claws. He didn't seem to mind. We weren't close, not really. Both of us were only in it for the money. I just wanted him sticking around. Not everyone wants to be seen supporting a glorified murderer. I nodded to him, spread my wings once more, heedless of who they smacked, and took to the skies, clutching the mouth of the paper bag. Home, home, home, I chanted in my head. Home where I can be me. No one sees me, no one sees the monster. I can be a normal human girl again, regardless of the less-than-human form I took on when I fought.