The Mouse

The assembled crowd began hastily muttering among themselves, their whispers carrying all the way to where Felix stood in the center of the ring. For an amateur fighter, he had just managed to create a ridiculous amount of buzz.

"You're sure about this?" the announcer got real close to Felix and asked quietly enough so that no one would hear. For someone whose job meant entertaining the masses – in this case, an obscenely wealthy mass – he seemed awfully worried. Felix gulped.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"Tell you what, kid. I like your guts, even if you're practically begging to get out of here on a stretcher. I'll do my best to pick someone who might not kill you," the man separated from Felix, putting on a wide smile once more. Addressing the crowds, his tone did a complete 180. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a real treat for you! Felix Hale has not only fought twice in a row, but he's asking to do so a third time. Do we let him?"

An overwhelming yell filled the room. A chorus of a hundred voices, all shouting in the affirmative… all wanting to see bloodshed. The announcer disappeared, hunting for Felix's next opponent. In the meantime, Ivan returned to the side of the ring, indignance masking his features.

"What in the world are you thinking? A couple months ago, you wanted nothing to do with this place! Now, you're literally throwing your life away!" he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. Then, as if a switch were flipped, Ivan whispered, "you need to stop this somehow. You're injured and you won't make it through a fight with one of the more violent fighters."

Felix nodded. Nothing that Ivan said was wrong. No, it was all true, and it was precisely for that reason that Felix was taking the actions he was taking. He needed to push himself to his absolute limits to have a chance at being a superhero worth something. After all, he wasn't Ironwill or Lift; he was only Rewind.

"I've got a trick or two up my sleeve," Felix whispered. It was time to start using his powers. This was the best chance he'd have to fight for his life with a decent shot of making it out alive if it all went south. "Trust me, Ivan."

The Russian eyed him with suspicion. "You aren't on steroids or anything, are you? They don't allow that here."

Felix's eyebrows raised a half-inch. "I'm kind of surprised they're that strict on everyone being clean, but I'm not on anything, Ivan. I've got a few things I've got to try out. You'll see."

Ivan opened his mouth to speak, but he'd run out of time. The announcer was back, a juggernaut of a human being following behind him. It was like he had a pet tank following him. Felix involuntarily stumbled back a bit after realizing that he had to crane his neck upwards to actually look his opponent in the eyes.

"Fighting our challenger, Felix Hale, is one of our crowd favorites, Tank! Known for his devastating power and incredible aptitude for brute violence, we'll see how Tank navigates a fight with the relatively unknown Felix Hale!" the announcer called out, giving Felix a shrug as he basically signed his death warrant.

Felix cursed under his breath, adopting a fighting stance. He'd need to be light on his feet this time around; blocking One-Eyed Jack's attacks had left him bruised, and something about Tank told him that his punches would hurt significantly more than Jack's.

Then, the fight was on. Tank, contrary to what his physique led Felix to believe, didn't immediately rush in. You didn't become a staple of the underground fighting circuit without skill, after all. Felix mentally berated himself for his misassumption; he'd need to press his only advantage – Tank's uncertainty about his skill – before Tank got a read on him.

Like a wave crashing into a seawall, Felix's right fist collided with Tank's forearms. Pain flared down the length of his arm almost immediately, Tank taking Felix's momentary distraction to reverse the momentum of the fight and-

Felix popped back in time. He delivered a kick instead of his punch, catching Tank unaware. Felix's shin dug into Tank's unprotected side, doing enough damage for the ridiculously large man to take a step backwards. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't much, but Felix would need to approach this as a wasp would: beat Tank through a thousand stings.

Tank had other plans, moving with surprising agility and throwing a punch at Felix's head. Weaving under the fist, Felix took advantage of his smaller size and let himself get caught between Tank's body and his outstretched arm. Felix kneed Tank a few times in the midsection, desperate to accomplish something before Tank realized that he didn't need to try to fend off Felix's attacks with his available hand; he just needed to punch Felix once or twice.

Almost as if thinking about it had given Tank the idea, Tank changed tactics, trying for a counteroffensive. A punch flew his way, and Felix was in no shape to block it. He popped back in time just far enough to do something about that hideously powerful fist. Dodging backwards, Felix fought the small headache that began to grow.

Tank was a monster. None of the kneeing had so much as made Tank take a single deep breath. Stepping forward, Tank caught Felix by surprise. He'd been so focused on Tank's fists that he'd forgotten about his legs. Felix fell like a tree that had just been felled by a lumberjack. His head cracked against the floor, igniting supernovas in his vision.

Felix rewound time just a second, trying his best to catch Tank's leg and force some kind of close-quarters with the man-mountain. Air rushed out of him with a big woomph, bringing the end of any hope Felix had of stopping any of Tank's attacks.

So began a game of cat and mouse that wouldn't end until one of them dropped unconscious… or dead.

And Felix was the mouse.