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The door to his apartment opened and Retsarra walked shakily inside. He had tried sleeping at the gym, but rest was fitful there and eventually Yaana had gently insisted that he catch some winks at home. Her sisters were depending on him and the Unenhanced Warrior to be ready for a fight if they were to expose the President's crimes. There was a scampering of tiny paws as two cats explored this strange new place, while Pomb remained close to his ankles. Reaching down to pick up the orange and black-furred feline, the Hhetsarro moved over to the couch and sat down. The room remained dark, the Wolf of the Arcadion not wanting to be seen by anyone at the moment. His role as a babyface was always to put on a heroic smile, to be the inspiration that people needed with their own struggles in the "ring" of their own lives, but today he felt incredibly small.
His eyes inevitably wandered to a poster on the wall, himself and Hector posing side by side in their feral soul forms. He could see the nervousness on both fighters' faces, still rookies looking for a place in the world. Howling Blade's steel body was pristine in that photo, free of the scratches, dents, and clawlike paint. It had made no sense to the young fighter why its appearance changed over time, but perhaps it was a reflection of his own soul and the disease that currently ravaged it, the same disease that had driven his best friend to…
And, in that moment, Retsarra's heart finally broke. He did not lash out in anger and tear up the place, but let out a choked growl, a pale imitation of Fenrir's ferocity. Why had Hector been so hellsbent on throwing away his chance for life?! He had spoke in defense of the President, refusing to believe the man would wish harm on any of them, but where was he when the Brute Abominator was tearing down buildings? Merely guiding the cameras so that Solution 9 could enjoy watching a damn grudge match.
His body trembled and tears trickled down his cheeks as he grieved. There was a time when the regulator on his head would have taken away the memory of Hector having ever existed and that thought terrified him. This was agony, yes, but better to feel something rather than nothing. He hoped one day that he might be rid of the device in its entirety. Whatever promises it made of a sorrow-free life, the price it demanded was not worth paying.
Pomb nuzzled into his lap with a concerned meow as he wept and he stroked the warm, tiny body in hope of comfort. Life had been simpler and happier when he and Hector were a team, when they didn't need to walk the separate paths of hero and villain in the Arcadion. But the allure of climbing the ranks in their respective divisions had been too tempting and so they had made the decision to "break up" their partnership. Hector had said those words with a boisterous laugh in a bar, but his eyes spoke of something different: regret.
Pomb's purring helped to ground him and he sank down against the cushions with a weary sigh. His own body was still weak from the fight with the Unenhanced Warrior, another part of the young man's shame for the day. Retsarra had talked boisterously and nobly during their bout as his role had demanded of him, but there was a part of him deep down that had been so angry at the man who had defeated Hector twice. He felt like he had tarnished his friend's honor by not being able to win, and now his time as fighter was officially over as part of the public challenge that had been issued. While the logic was there for why Yaana and the others would want him to stop fighting, the emotions within the Hhetsarro's heart were still raw.
However, to borrow recent words from a late friend, "No more distractions." He was going to fight this entire corrupt system and be the actual "good guy" the people of Alexandria had come to see him as. It was what Hector, Eutrope, and so many others deserved. There was a chime at the door and for a moment Retsarra's heart lifted and his feline ears perked up; could it be him? Had the diagnosis been premature and the medical staff of the Arcadion performed some miracle?? But that fantasy gave way to grim reality. At first he had no intention of answering it, but reminded himself that this could be pertinent information regarding the rescue mission. Rapidly rubbing his face clean of his tears, he slunk towards the entrance and numbly pressed a button on a screen to activate the camera to see who it was.
To his surprise there was a slender Shetona with vibrant green hair and a Milalla at his side. Two of his fellow cruiserweight fighters.
"Hey, uh…we just wanted to check up on you given everything that's happened," Dancing Green said with a surprising lack of flamboyant flair, holding up a commiserative bottle of spirits.
"We understand if you want to be alone, but we're here if you want to talk," Sugar Riot added, giving the camera a soft smile and wave.
There was still so much that was unexplained about feral soul technology. While Howling Blade's body bore the scars of his battles, there were ways that Fenrir echoed onto his untransformed life as well. Wolves at the end of the day wanted to be part of a pack and he found himself no longer wanting to mourn a friend alone. Taking a deep breath, he flicked the lights on, steeled himself to put on a brave face, realized he didn't have the energy for it, and simply opened up the door in his bedraggled state.
"Come on in…"
The pair entered, Dancing Green giving him a chaste hug while Sugar Riot scrambled forward with a delighted squeal of "Kitties!"
Retsarra glanced back at the poster of him and Hector. They had accomplished so much as a team back then and it was time now for the Arcadion to unite as one.
Wherever you are, buddy, I hope you're watching and that I can make you proud.