Rebecca had half a mind to tell Agnes off for criticizing her form. They both knew the moment she registered as “not some creepy guy or a threat,” her movements would be thrown off. Even if there were valid critiques, (and Rebecca was not at that point willing to concede to that,) Agnes had no right to judge. Some people were not eidetic memory sponges for martial arts, and might not have perfect positioning every time they squared up a punch. Cocky punk.

Before there was even time to voice her frustrations, Rebecca was surprised by Agnes moving closer to her. Asked about the state of work for the night, her hands gestured at the bar, mimicking her teammate’s movements. ”Clearly,” she mumbled.

Again with the “hot date” thing! Rebecca was certain the joke would have died with agnes’s departure earlier in the night, but she was wrong. The fact that there was some plan Agnes had for her was almost worrying now, because she had the whole night to think it through, and still decided to go with it.

Still dumbfounded, a small “oof!” escaped her lips when Agnes shoved her on her way past. What was she planning? It would be pointless to ask, as the brunette was an elusive creature when she did not want to give away an answer.

Instead of objecting, Rebecca reviewed the situation. This was Agnes, so she was not going to lead Rebecca into a trap. As much as they bickered, neither of them would put the other in real danger. For all the talk of a “date,” it was also impossible to think Agnes was social long enough to wrangle up a guy or girl to introduce her to, unless she literally paid someone to… okay, so that was a possibility. But if that was Agnes’s plan, she would leave immediately, and her friend knew that. It was also hard to see her actively pressuring Rebecca to cheat on Jesse, regardless of how illogical their relationship was to her.

Begrudgingly, Rebecca followed her. ”I want to go on the record in saying I do not like or trust this.” Weak objections aside, her curiosity outweighed her good sense, and she caught up to walk at Agnes’s side.

Combatant wasn’t the patience type and while Rebecca had a plethora of reasons to not trust her, she also knew that the redhead’s curiosity would outweigh any concerns that she may have had. At the end of the day, despite whatever confusion Rebecca may have felt, the bar owner / vigilante mutant was still pretty predictable. Agnes merely had to provide the carrot and the intrigue and the horse would follow. Huh…a horse…she would have to figure how to work calling Rebecca that in day-to-day conversation.

With her usual sass at Rebecca inability to properly defend herself (Agnes had very high standards) the young woman merely scoffed and explained to her exactly what she did wrong. Of course Rebecca’s expression showed that she didn’t all-together appreciate that, but considering how her night went, she didn’t want to get into a shouting match with her. Relenting by keeping her mouth, Agnes claimed victory in this instance, smugly walking past the redhead and nudging her firmly on the arm.

They had to get going if they wanted to get where they needed to be. Still under the guise of a “hot date”, she could only imagine how hard the gears in Rebecca’s mind were churning. She wanted to ask some of the obvious questions but their years working together would prove that Agnes wasn’t about to divulge information she wasn’t ready to give. Rebecca was just going to have to be a patient girl.

Of course that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to voice her hesitation…

>> ”I want to go on the record in saying I do not like or trust this.”

Agnes sighed, pulled out her invisible notepad, flipped it open in such a way that her middle finger was extended out towards the redhead. From there she pretended to jot down a note with her also invisible pen. ”Alriiiiiight. Noted, ya pansy. Now come on.”

Marching over to a nearby car, Agnes formed a perfect contrast to it. While the woman looked as if she had stepped straight out of some biker magazines wet-dream, the car itself couldn’t have been more ostentatious. Deep, electric purple with faux-gold-rimmed plates (as evident by the scrapes that peeled off to show the aluminum beneath it, the interior of the car wasn’t any better. Lined with faux-fur and bedazzled with faux-jewels; there went a lot of work in appearing faux, it seemed. As Agnes marched over to the driver’s side, she pulled open the car door handle. Immediately the scent of cheap e-cig smoke and shame filled the air.

Without pause, Agnes slipped behind the wheel and closed the door behind her. Upon closer inspection, it would show that the door had a rather large, human-head sized dent in the side of it, with what could be mistaken as smeared strawberry jam. However it was best to not look too closely. Reaching across to the passenger seat, she unlocked the door and pushed it open for Rebecca to get in. While the redhead decided whether or not to sully her butt on the pleather seat cushion, Agnes bent down, reaching under the steering wheel and grabbing the two wires she that had clearly been handled abruptly before.

Flick. Flick. Flick. Tiny sparks flew as Agnes grumbled to herself, trying to get the engines to ignite. However he gaze flicked over to Rebecca before turning back to the wires. ”Come on, Red. We don’t have all night. Unless you’d rather passerbys think I’m whoring you out?" She stopped trying to hotwire the car, lifted her head and gave Rebecca and scrutinizing look. "I mean...I guess someone might be desperate enough.” A final flick, a spark, and engine roared to life. Agnes, appeased with herself, sat up and nodded her head.

In a fight, anyone could rely on Combatant to have their back. Her mutation made fighting as natural as breathing, but she did not rest on her laurels. She was strong, she was smart, and she even had some idea of how to work alongside a team these days. On a mission, Rebecca could put her life in Agnes’s hands without flinching.

Then there was this off-the-clock version of Agnes with her sarcastic quips and teasing allusions to a mystery date. The well of trust there was quickly drying up.

Rebecca resigned herself to following her friend, but the car she was being led to stopped her. Nothing about the vehicle made sense for a closed-off, tough chick like Agnes. For a moment, the vibrant purple car had her worrying she was being led to some garish pimp. If this was a roundabout way of getting her involved in some prostitution sting, there was going to be a long talk about fair warning.

Much to the redhead’s surprise, her partner walked into the driver’s side door and entered the car. Eyeing the situation suspiciously, there was a weird sense of comfort when Agnes pressed two wires together to start the car. At least she did not have to worry about committing a member of the X-Team for losing her mind and buying such a monstrosity.

Agnes goaded her to enter the car, implying that Rebecca was going to be seen as a prostitute if she stayed out there much longer. She took no offense from the comment, but the idea that someone would have to be “desperate” to be interested in her services was wholly unnecessary. She sidled into the car and looked the driver over, but held her tongue as the car heaved into motion.

As they drove, Rebecca surveyed the interior of the car, which was just as off-putting as the exterior. ”You know, I never pegged you as a woman with a shaggin’ wagon,” she joked, leaning forward to keep as little of her body touching any part of the car. ”This is probably the first time I’m glad you stole this from some thug instead of buying it.”

Rebecca knew the streets of New York well enough from years of patrolling, so she eliminated possible destinations as they continued to drive. ”Now that I’m committed, can you finally tell me where we’re going?”

Sweet Daddy Kane had learned a lesson this night that he wouldn’t soon forget. When she had come across him, he had been trying to shake down one of his girls for money that he felt he was being cheated out of. Of course the young prostitute wasn’t hiding anything from him but that didn’t seem to matter. He wanted to make an example out of her and after a few slaps, the switchblade came out. He would carve his manifesto in her flesh to ensure that no one cheated him again.

Of course Combatant wasn’t going to let it get that far. The second that she came upon the scene and seen the switch blade, she was already pouncing on the fool. She didn’t even bother with any fancy quips or words, but rather just beat the living hell out of the man before driving his head into the driver’s side door. The last she saw of him, he was in a crumpled pile on the ground and Agnes had grunted at the prostitute to run and get her sh*t together. Once she ran, Agnes took the pimp’s car as payment and drove off.

And so here she was, re-hotwiring it so that they it could serve a far better purpose tonight. Of course it looked a little silly with someone of Agnes’ personality to be driving such an eyesore, but she didn’t actually care what people thought of her. Besides, the car would only serve a purpose for tonight before she abandoned it elsewhere. It wasn’t as if she could be caught dead driving something like this anyways.

Once the car started to turn over, she glanced over to see that Rebecca was still looming outside the window, trying to understand what she was looking at. Agnes rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the woman’s ineptitude and grumbled that she should get in, unless she wanted to be confused for a poor man’s hooker. Rebecca didn’t grace her with a retort but did finally climb into the car.

>> ”You know, I never pegged you as a woman with a shaggin’ wagon…This is probably the first time I’m glad you stole this from some thug instead of buying it.”

She shrugged her slender shoulders. ”There’s clearly a method to my madness,” she said, hissing at the electric currents that nipped at her fingertips. ”…if only you’d stop jumping to conclusion.” A glance over her shoulder, a wink of her eye, and finally the car roared the life again.

A sigh of satisfaction, she clipped her seat belt and pulled the car out into the street. Urging the car onward, she moved it with practice expertise down the street and onward towards the destination that she had in mind; a destination that she hadn’t shared with Rebecca just yet. However, Red clearly couldn’t just let it be a surprise.

>> ”Now that I’m committed, can you finally tell me where we’re going?”

As the wind swept in through the open windows, Agnes hung her arm out the side and kept one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel. She rolled her eyes at Rebecca inability to want to be surprise and finally turned towards her, her eyebrow arched.

”You been stressed lately…” she said, making it clear it was an observation, not a question. She shrugged her shoulders and looked straight ahead again, a sly smile on her lips. ”…I’m taking you for some stress relief.” Her foot slammed down on the gas pedal and suddenly they took off, a chuckle on the warrior’s lips.

Agnes was a riot, implying Rebecca was jumping to conclusions. With the way she was acting, how could anyone jump to a reasonable conclusion? Considering she was not the most social creature, Agnes’s playfulness was inherently suspicious, as was her secrecy. If her plan was nothing nefarious or humiliating, why was she keeping it a surprise? Rebecca certainly gave no one the impression that she was a fan of surprises.

Eventually, the whining and pleading from Rebecca must have worn down Agnes’s resolve. She pulled back the curtain just enough to expose the inner workings over her thought process. Rebecca had been stressed and needed to relieve some of the tension se was dealing with.

In theory, it sounded reasonable. Agnes was one of the few people who knew where Rebecca’s head was, and the many things weighing on her shoulders. A vague invitation for “stress relief” sounded enticing, until one factored in the time, (way too late,) the jokes and implications, (way to sexual,) and the guide, (way too willing to screw with Rebecca.)

For a moment, Rebecca genuinely did believe Agnes might have been leading her to a rendezvous with a woman of the night. For a woman who did not partake of carnal pleasures herself, Agnes had a cavalier stance on the casual nature of sex. Rebecca made plenty of protests of monogamy and faithful duty to her spouse, but there was still the chance her companion was going to try convincing her to set aside her morals. “A screw isn’t really cheating if you’re paying for it,” or something like that. A shiver ran up her spine.

Then again, Rebecca was so in her head wondering what kind of plan Agnes was setting up, she was ignoring the obvious signs. They were driving into a shady part of New York, (or more specifically, one of the shady parts of New York,) but their direction was familiar. Sure, there were women on the corners as they passed, but Rebecca needed to think more like Agnes. As mentioned in an earlier thought, Agnes did not sleep with people, so it would not be her go-to method of stress relief.

Thinking about how Agnes dealt with her stress, Rebecca suddenly realized where they were going, and they were only two blocks and a left turn away. ”Noooope. No, no, no, you’re not seriously bringing me there.”

They wove through the streets of New York, driving in through the darkest neighborhoods and the shadiest parts of town. Deep in the rundown belly of the city, the scent of water began to fill the air. They were getting closer to the docks and Agnes drove with clear practice, a well-worn memory to proven that she knew precisely where she was going. It was this behavior that the warrior could feel tugging dangerously at Becca’s curiosity. However, she knew that eventually the redhead would connect all the dots.

Specifically in three…two…one…

>> ”Noooope. No, no, no, you’re not seriously bringing me there.”

The grin that twisted up Agnes’ lips was both malevolent and highly pleased; Becca knew her too well. But on top of knowing where they were headed, Becca really should have known that no protests were going to dissuade Agnes when she had a destination in mind. To put it nicely…Becca’s ass was hers.

---

The East Docks had a rather unsavory reputation. In the past there had been a number of illegal activities taking place here, including the drug trade, weapons running, etc., but it had amassed such a reputation that it eventually drew the eye of the authorities. Because of that, the dock went largely abandoned and no longer saw the flow of such illicit activities. But rather than rejuvenate it, the city instead chose to simply let it rot away, like a gangrenous limb, waiting for it to fall off the rest of the body. But as they waited for its inevitable collapse under the waves, other would come to utilize it for services that were vice ridden, but not enough to draw city attention.

Cage fighting was an underground pastime in this part of the city. Fighters from every borough, from every gang, from the lowest gutter to the highest high rise, they all met here for one specific purpose – to beat the bloody hell out of anyone they were matched up with. Of course betting went on and whatever management was to had that week tended to pay their registered fighter’s handsomely for their broken teeth and shattered jaws, but really people were just in it to let out some frustrations.

Clearly, if any place was going to allow for some stress relief, this was it.

Agnes didn’t tell Becca what her full plan was. When they had arrived, Agnes merely got out of the car, a grin on her lips as she waited for Becca to stop protesting and finally resign herself to her fate. Once that was done, the young warrior blended in with the rest of the cheering, smelling masses, pulling Becca along until finally the duo found themselves a pair of seats that were right up front. Of course it took a few angry glares and a thinly veiled threats, but the brunette eventually managed to scare off the two hookers from their seat. Once emptied, Agnes sat and waited for Becca to sit next to her.

The fights were already underway. Two large men, one pale skinned and covered in tattoos, the other dark with a Mohawk, were already turning one another into a bloody pulp for the audience. Agnes cheered and booed, and grinned as she nudged Becca to loosen up and have a good time. It was after the first fight that Agnes excused herself under the pretense of getting them a couple of beers…

…the reality was that as soon as Agnes was out of Becca’s line of sight, she made her way to the short manager in the white jumpsuit. As soon as he spied Agnes, he winced and rolled his head down; it was clear he knew her. A few whispers, some disagreements, the threat of a beatdown, and Agnes had signed both Becca and herself up for a two-on-two match that would be coming up next.

All smiles, Agnes returned to Becca and reclaimed her seat. Of course she brought the beers. She wasn’t a liar, after all.

The fights at the docks were, by definition, an illegal operation, so Rebecca was aware of them. She touched the area on her patrols, but she otherwise left the fights alone. No one was being forced into fights. The money exchanging hands was dirty, but there was too much dirty money in New York to be concerned with. Bad men got to beat the hell out of each other, Agnes got to beat the hell out of bad men, and the masses got entertainment for the evening.

There was an argument, but Agnes was not dropping what initially seemed like a joke. She thought something about this would relax Rebecca, and they had already agreed earlier that Agnes would be calling the shots for the night. Resigning herself to the plan, Rebecca got out of the gaudy vehicle and followed her friend through crowds.

It was funny to think how, any other night, some of the people Rebecca was shuffling past could end up on the other end of her fist or an eye blast. Now she was part of the masses as just another woman there for the show. To some, she and Agnes were the show. It was to be expected; Rebecca knew she was attractive and “dressed to impress,” and Agnes was the kind of bad girl most of the crowd would fall head over heels for. Gang wars had been started for less.

They took seats near the front of the action, and Rebecca stifled a laugh as Agnes shooed off two scantily clad women. At least if they were going to watch an illegal cage fight, they were going to have a great view.

Rebecca’s eyes watched the fight, initially with a scowl, but slowly her face softened. It was a messy fight, but there was something animal and visceral about watching it go down. Fighting was not Rebecca’s hobby; it was a tool to use on missions. Agnes was always the one who seemed to enjoy getting physical (in combat,) while Rebecca strived for efficiency and handling a situation in the quickest time.

There was nothing efficient about the fight she was watching. Damage and pain were the goals, and the two men were almost showmen in that sense. When Agnes left to grab beers, Rebecca muttered an, ”Okay,” as she tried not to seem too into the fight.

She hated to admit it, but something about the fight was getting her blood pumping. Rebecca was not about to cheer or hoot and holler, but her fists clenched after any truly impactful hit. Agnes brought back two drinks and Rebecca offered the neck of her bottle to clink before bringing the drink to her lips. Maybe this was not the worst idea Agnes had ever had. ”Well, if this was a recruitment mission, I don’t quite think these guys are up to snuff. But… I might be having something slightly resembling fun.” She smirked and shrugged her shoulders, finally allowing herself to sink to the level necessary to just be “part of the crowd.”

It took some arm-twisted (not literally, though it would have been more effective) for Becca to finally accept where they would be spending their evening. From Agnes’ perspective, there was no greater source of stress relief than watching people beat the tar out of one another. The added bonus was that these were criminals, thugs, low-lifes, all of whom rightfully deserved to be on the receiving end of a fist or a kneecap. The satisfying thing about watching these fights was knowing that each one of them deserved it and that they were doing it to one another. For once, the X-Men didn’t have to get their hands dirty.

As Agnes returned with drinks in tow, and a plan in mind, she reclaimed her seat next to the busty redhead. The entire way back, she had received a few stares, some kissing noises, the usual fanfare, but she ignored all of them. Normally such actions would earn a glare or the loosening of teeth, but Agnes was being unusally tolerate tonight. That alone should have set fire to the universe as it was known, but she there was a method; why tire herself out now with the small fries?

Handing her beet over, Agnes sat, crossed her legs and shouted with as much bravado as the rest of the bloodthirsty crowd. ”PUNCH HIS ****ING FACE IN!!!” she screamed, then chuckled and clapped her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her team leader, offering her the neck of her beer to clink hers against. A snort and Agnes did as she was asked, she clinked her beer bottle against Becca’s before taking a long swig of it. With a sight she planted on hand down against her seat and leaned back, raising her beer and cheering along with the rest of the crowd once again.

The fight battled on and though Becca was initially resistant to come her, Agnes couldn’t help but see that little twinkle in her eye. She was interested; hell, she was actually into it. She definitely made a right choice in bringing the redhead here.

Sensing Becca move, leaning in to talk, Agnes tilted her head towards her, flicking her hair over her shoulder so she could hear.

>> ”Well, if this was a recruitment mission, I don’t quite think these guys are up to snuff. But… I might be having something slightly resembling fun.”

Agnes smirked. She turned, looking back to Becca, dangerously close to her. Somewhere in the crowd, someone watching would have probably saw this as some wet dream come true. But Agnes, of course, was never one to allow dreams to be reality. So before this hidden someone could start a chant of “Kiss her!” she scoffed and lifted her beer, taking another sip.

”You don’t have say that with so much surprise,” Agnes snorted. ”Might offend me. Besides…” That was laughable though, Agnes actually being offended. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the match, smiling knowingly. ”It’s going to get better.”

A sucker punch later and Mohawk went down. The entire crowd winced at that punch to the bellybutton, a move that could have easily crushed the man’s diaphragm. However no one called out foulplay or booed for the man cheating, these fights weren’t about being fair, it was about winning. So with his arms pumping in the air, the winner marched out of the cage to collect his money. As the ringleader stepped in, monitor the removal of the fallen loser, he briefly met Agnes’ gaze in the crowd. He shuddered but sighed.

“Ladies and gentlemen! What a fight, what a fight, what. A. FIGHT!”

“Wooooooooo!!” the crowd responded.

“Normally I would say that I have no idea how we could follow such a match but it seems…as if we have a last minute entry! One surely to please! Surely to guarantee blood! Surely…to entertain!!”

Agnes stood and started to pull off her leather jacket. Folding it up, she hung it over her arm and grinned. The announcer, a man who had clearly dealt with her before, knew the bloodshed that would come, and also knew that some people were going to get very hurt.

“So with that said, I would like to introduce our latest addition to the cage match…TWO-ON-TWO!!!”

“WWOOOOOOOO!!!” The crowd was wild.

“And our first challengers, I present you with…” he looked visibly sick at having to say it. “…Snow White!” A pause. “And Red Riding Hoooooooooooood!”

Agnes grinned, wide, as the man gestured towards her. All eyes on the crowd turned to Agnes who just gave them all the larges, sh*t-eating grin she could muster. As he eyes fell onto Rebecca, the woman tilted her head and smiled. ”Come on, Red,” she said as she turned. She sauntered away, heading towards the cage, already twisting her core and flexing her arms. ”We got some people to hurt.”

”It’s going to get better.”

Rebecca was having a good enough time that she almost wanted to ignore the shiver up her spine and foreboding sense of trouble that came along with that sentence. She eyed Agnes warily but kept her mouth shut, turning her focus back to the fight. Maybe it was finally time to start trusting that Agnes had her best interests at heart. The trip to the cage match was a pleasant surprise, and it was exhausting to be suspicious all the time.

The fight’s ending paralleled its beginning and middle: brutal. This must have been what it was like to watch gladiators fight for the amusement of a crowd, without the honor and nobility. Then again, from what she gathered from history books, a showing like this might not have been far from historical accuracy.

The announcer was showy and over-the-top, but that was his role. Get the crowd going; get the hype growing. He closed out the fight, but his excitement for the next fight was palpable, and even Rebecca was curious. A two-on-two sounded hectic, if it was anything like what she had just seen.

The man stumbled on the names of the next fighters, and she chuckled as he grimaced and called out for a “Snow White.”

The chuckling stopped when he called out for “Red Riding Hood.”

No. No, no, no.”No, no, no, no,” she groaned, this time, out loud. ”You did not.”

But of course, she did. Obviously, she did. How did Rebecca not see this coming? Let it be known Rebecca’s willingness to trust Agnes’s intentions was alive and well for approximately four minutes.

Agnes was grinning, unphased by the friendship she was so clearly about to lose. Rebecca looked at her defiantly, ready to say no and watch Agnes fight two challengers alone. (It was not like she could not manage that, anyway.)

She looked back on their conversations, and about why they were there. Agnes wanted her to let loose some of the steam and frustration she was building up. With work and home life struggles, they were pushing her to a limit. Was it going to make her reckless? Maybe even say or do something she knew she should not?

Glancing around at the cheering crowds, she slowly started to understand the appeal of why Agnes did this to herself night after night. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, maybe this could be a safe place for her. She needed an outlet, and she was a strong fighter in her own right. The fights were also where some of Agnes’s cashflow came from. That was another stressor right there. It was like she was hitting two birds with well-placed eye blast.

There was a sigh of resignation, but Rebecca stood up, rotating her shoulder to loosen up. ”I actively hate you, you know,” she advised, but followed her friend anyway. ”Was the beer even well-intentioned, or were you trying to level out the playing field for the poor schmucks we’re about to pummel?”

>> .”No, no, no, no,..You did not.”

Agnes was merely grinning as wide as ever as she stood up. Removing her jacket, she folded it over her arm as she started to stretch and turn, loosening up her muscles and preparing for the fights that would come. She had come here many times in the past and many times she had sent people out of this ring on a stretcher. She didn’t kill anyone, not here anyways, but she made for damn sure that those that came in mocking her, crawled out with a bit of a lesson learned. Agnes was not someone to be trifled with.

However, Rebecca seemed insistent that this was not what she wanted to do. Bulls**t. Becca had confided in Agnes before, let her know about the troubles she was having, the anxiety about making ends meet, about doing the right thing. All of it weighed heavily upon her to the point that she felt like she was going to break. For Agnes, the answer was simple, Becca needed an outlet. If she wasn’t going to go out and screw her problems away then she needed to find a different outlet, something where she could allow herself to breathe – and hurt someone.

This was her solution and it was the best one. If anyone knew about letting off steam on this team, it was Agnes Nicholas. However, when Becca continued to protest and glare at her, Agnes rolled her eyes as marched back over to her. Hand son her hips, she gave her a firm look.

”Stop being such a goddamn *****…” Agnes said with a disgusted growl. ”Come on. You need to vent and this is the best way to do that. Now get off that ass and shake it for something that actually worth doing than making chump change in that s**thole you call a bar.”

Stoke the flames. Make her angry. If anything was going to get Rebecca off her butt, it was that. And if there were anyone that were better at it than Combatant, she couldn’t imagine.

Finally, after a few moments of thought, Rebecca begrudgingly got up on her two feet. She shook her head and started to roll her shoulders as she walked up next to her. At that, Agnes actually gave her a satisfied and knowing green. Good. It was about time the two of them saw eye-to-eye. However, as they marched to the cage, Agnes stepped onto the platform just as Becca grumbled.

>> ”I actively hate you, you know,..Was the beer even well-intentioned, or were you trying to level out the playing field for the poor schmucks we’re about to pummel?”

Agnes rolled her eyes. ”If you really think one beer was going to make a different here then you really are a lightweight.” She then snorted. ”Besides, a beer can have two purposes, Red.” She tossed her jacket at the announcer and gave him the sign that she was watching him before she held the gate open for Becca. ”You first, Red Riding Hood” She snickered at the name before she shrugged at Becca’s dirty look. ”What? You’re lucky. I was going to go with Chesty Galore.”

Agnes had a point; Rebecca was not so much of a lightweight that one beer was going to throw her off her game. In genuine combat, she needed her senses sharp, but this was not a mission. She was signing up for a knock em’ down, drag em’ out brawl, and as a bar owner in New York, she could get in a headspace like that with a beer or two in her system.

Red Riding Hood was not a terrible nickname, even if the announcer felt sick having to utter it. It did not make all the sense in the world, since she was missing the eponymous hood, but somehow, she doubted the crowd was going to file a complaint for the inaccuracy. She rolled her eyes at the name Agnes joked about going with, but she grinned nonetheless, feeling her mood lifting already. ”Yeah, yeah, I get it, you have a long-standing obsession with my t**s. Get in line, love.”

With that comment, she entered the cage behind Agnes and waited on their opponents. The announcer called them out as “Onslaught and Apocalypse,” and Rebecca cringed at the overly impressive names. The problem with going over the top was the inevitable disappointment when two men, one lean and tall and the other muscular and squat, came out to oppose them. They were thuggish, and in that way, they were intimidating. The lecherous way they looked at their opponents would make most women shudder and recoil in disgust.

Red Riding Hood, meanwhile, was looking forward to leaving those uninvited eyes swollen shut.

---

Rebecca ached. It was a good ache.

After missions, Rebecca always reveled in the exhaustion and soreness, knowing she earned it doing something noble. Sitting on the roof of the hospital, her joy came from knowing she had beating the ever-loving hell out of some low-lives.

In her head, she knew it should have felt wrong. Agnes was the one to pick a fight because she felt like it, and Rebecca played by the rules and fought with purpose. Honestly, after their night together, Rebecca was starting to see the appeal, and it was harder to see what was so wrong about what she had done.

Her back was pressed against a brick wall, and she was looking out at the darkness of the city, still an hour or two from sunrise. Rebecca raised an opened bottle of beer to her lips and savored the cool refreshment. ”Is this what you feel like all the time?” she asked the friend sitting next to her.

Agnes was understandably sore after the night’s activities but she was more than ecstatic about it. After an initially rocky start in dragging the busty redhead out with her, it turned out to actually be quite the cathartic time. The match they had been embroiled in was actually a cake walk (the two guys were totally not over compensating) but Agnes still found herself having far more fun than she normally did at these things. Working with a partner seemed to have actually added to the fun factor of it. Maybe this was a standing appointment that she should make with the leader of the X’s.

Afterwards, free from their exploits of breaking in the faces of the two low-lives that they had been paired up with, the two walked away, slightly bruised but satisfied. Agnes was surprised that she only had to shout minimal instructions at Rebecca, as the redhead seemed to be handling herself fairly well. Of course she could always improve and she would give her more notes on a later date.

For now, Agnes simply enjoyed the peace and calm that came after their fight club extravaganza. Sitting on the roof of the hospital where the team squatted, Agnes had her back resting against a brick façade, a case of cold beer bottles between herself and the team leader. It was a rare for Agnes to just hang out with the woman whom she bumped heads with so regularly but she was willing to just enjoy the moment while she could.

Eventually Rebecca would start talking and that would just ruin it all anyway.

Holding an icy beer to her darkening eye, Agnes sighed in relief. Onslaught had been a sucker-punching little witch the whole time. She half expected him to try and claw her eyes out at some point. Oh but she made sure that law the hurt on him after he caught her with the punch that gave her this shiner. Still, even through the pain she had to smile. It was loads of fun.

>> ”Is this what you feel like all the time?”

Agnes shrugged. ”Sore and bruised? Pretty much.” she confirmed. She removed the bottle from her eye and sighed as she took another sip from it. The swelling would stop soon enough. However when she glanced and saw the look in Rebecca’s eye, she snorted – clearly she was not referring to how she was physically feeling. She nodded her head. ”Adrenaline. Satisfaction of hurting someone who deserved it…” she smirked. ”I told you it was cathartic. It’s good for the soul.”

There were plenty of mornings when Rebecca would watch Agnes walking around with a freshly earned set of cuts and scrapes from the previous night. Being on the rooftop with her was something different. Agnes was in her element in the fight, and there was something impressive about watching her bask in the glow of her recent victories. Rebecca was doing some basking herself; it felt good to succeed at something she did well.

She was going to have to explain the bruising across her shoulder when she got home to Jesse. She left a voicemail, (since her spouse was in no position to answer her call,) but the details of her night were left vague. It was better to seek forgiveness rather than ask permission, and going cage fighting was going to be a hard one to apologize for.

Still, it felt needed. Agnes called it cathartic, and she was right. ”It feels good to take control with something simple. Fight dumb guys, knock dumb guys unconscious, get money.” Her foot nudged a brown paper bag on the ground filled with money tied in a neat bundle. ”The money definitely doesn’t hurt.” It was not enough to keep things stable, but as an occasional stipend to her income, it was certainly fun to earn.

Rebecca took a sip of her beer, feeling the spike of pain as the carbonation passed over her busted lip. She was fine with that kind of pain. ”It was terrible of you to drag me into this, you know. I could make a habit of these girls’ nights…”

Agnes was sore but it was a good sore. She always felt like this after a fight, well, a fight that she won. When it really came down to it, Agnes wasn’t really that much of a masochist. She didn’t fight in order to get her kicks out of hurting just anyone, she fought because some people in the world just deserved to be hit. They needed to be knocked down a few pegs. There were sh*tty people in the world and sometimes they needed to have their noses broken. It was a rather harsh philosophy but for someone whose life has been seeped in blood and pain since the beginning, it was all she had.

With a roll of her sore shoulders, she pushed back against the brick wall, her legs stretched out and crossed over the other. The cold beer felt good in her hand, easing the soreness there how many times her knuckles had punched in cartilage that night. As lifted her beer, another sip passing her lips as she sighed and rested her head back against the wall. She was actually feeling tired.

She could have just sat there, watching the falling night, and listening to the ambient sounds of the city until dawn. Unfortunately, Rebecca had to be a Chatty Cathy. Insert eye roll.

>> ”It feels good to take control with something simple. Fight dumb guys, knock dumb guys unconscious, get money…The money definitely doesn’t hurt.”

She smirked as Rebecca toed the small bag of money. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to ease some of the burden off the redhead’s shoulders. Money was tough to come by in this world, legally anyways, so if they could do something that was both illegal and moral to get a few bucks, why not? Honestly, that was part of the reason that Agnes put herself in harm most nights. As much as she would never admit it, she actually liked this motley little band of miscreants; even if they needed a firm lesson in reality from time to time.

>> ”It was terrible of you to drag me into this, you know. I could make a habit of these girls’ nights…”

Agnes sighed and shook her head. ”God, don’t be such a girl about it,” she said. She took another drink from her beer, downing the last of it. She set the bottle to the side, a momentary thought of smashing it passed through her mind, but the thought that Astrid may want it for recycling passed through so she set it aside gently. Every little bit helps, right? After a second of pause, Agnes glanced to Rebecca out of the corner of her eye and grumbled under her breath. ”But…if you ever want to..let me know.”

With that she stood, stretched, and adjusted her leather jacket; a clear sign that she was done talking. She moved passed Rebecca, heading for the roof access door, ready to make her way down into the depths. The sun was just barely starting to peek over the horizon as she descended down, closing the door behind her. A click of the door locking in place rung in her ears and she stopped, considering opening the door to prop it open for Rebecca. Instead she just grinned maliciously and headed down. It was time for sleep. And Rebecca could figure her own way back inside.