Knockout Pt. 1 (Anthro TF)

Chanting crowds. Pounding music. Clashing weapons. Frightening war cries. Blaring, deafening sounds that rattled through Amora’s skull as a battle of the ages was fought in the translucent white shield-encased ring below. Any louder and she felt that her ear drums would burst, but that was just all part of the whole experience. She cheered wildly along with the rest of the packed coliseum, her voice resonating above all others around her. She wanted her superstar in the ring to hear her over the rest of the booming racket, notice how much she adored her, looked up to her as an inspiration.

That superstar was Kyru, the young kitsune warrior that was making work of her opponent within the barrier under the blinding spotlights, as well as the one that the masses had swarmed to see in action. She danced around the punk-looking guy - Malek, his name was, told by the posters outside the enormous arena - with ease, casting her runes and spewing her magic in vibrant arrays of colors and patterns, making a fireworks display of the relentless attacks, just about mocking the idiot that had bothered to challenge her. Even with power move-based MMA and dual Pulse Pistols at Malek’s disposal, he couldn’t land a single hit.

It was no wonder why Kyru was considered one of the top combatants in the Underground Gladiator Syndicate, as well as the one so many looked up to and considered a true idol. Especially young Amora.

The girl in the crowd nearly stood upon other’s shoulders in excitement, gazing down excitedly at the glowing ring as Kyru knocked Malek to his knees. She landed a heel to his jaw as he attempted to stand, only staggering back to the floor from the blow. The kitsune spun around, facing the audience, her fans, and jumped a couple times like a cheerleader, her signature move to rile-up the crowd, and drawing a wild applause. Amora, as always, was as undefeated as Kyru when it came to her volume.

Suddenly, the cheer morphed to a collective gasp as Malek’s form seemed to phase out of existence, flickering away as if he was nothing more than hologram.

Amora scanned the arena with her eyes, searching for some sort of indication of a sneak attack. She saw Kyru looking just as vigilant, stepping to the center of the caged circle. She whipped her head back and forth, her vulpine ears twitching about. Behind her, Amora noticed an odd ripple of sorts begin to form in the air, as if she was looking through the emission of a powerful heater.

There!

“Behind you!!” Amora hollered as loud as she could, he voice ringing across the masses of hushed whispers.

Malek burst from some invisible portal a split second later, pistols drawn and aimed straight at Kyru’s back.

But the fox girl didn’t even flinch.

A bright yellow rune appeared in the path between her and Malek, a complex pattern of shapes and symbols splashed across the floating circle. Malek sailed and crashed right into it as if it was a solid wall, an unsettling crunch sounding as his face connected with it. He crumpled to the floor, firearms slipping from his grip and clattering away. He would not have been able to use them anymore anyway.

Kyru did not have to move even the slightest the entire time.

“Aw, that’s all ya got?” Kyru asked her crippled opponent cheerily, his body twitching and trembling but never making any move to get up again. Her voice resonated across the entire coliseum, the crowds having gone utterly silent in anticipation.

“I… quit…” Malek rasped weakly.

All at once, the watchers across the stands erupted into a flurry of howls and hoots at yet another easy victory for the kitsune warrior. A computerized announced shouted “KNOCKOUT!”, confirming Malek’s loss with a fury of winning themes and sound effects. But above all sounded young Amora, her fists in the air and a joyous smile across her rosy cheeks.

Her hero remained undefeated.

Amora just about hopped her way outside of the arena, a cheerful bounce in her stride with her chin held high, almost as if she was the one that had taken the win. She peered around at the enormous circular hall dividing the stadium portion of the coliseum and the stair many flights that led to the tunnel systems above, which in turn brought people to the streets of the city above those. Concession stands, paraphernalia kiosks, and award cases lined the walls on both sides, filling the gaps of blank space between every entrance and exit arch. Above them, filling the rest of the 20-story-high walls, were massive screen after massive screen of posters of the Syndicate’s greatest fighters, each with their own unique set of abilities, weaponry, stats, and backstories, all posted up on the 150-foot-high rectangular television screens.

Amora read off each name she saw aloud to herself as the screens shifted their posters, recognizing a few as some of the ones on her hero’s “defeated” list, all the while awaiting only one in particular.

“Juno… Aphian… Zet… G.Z…. Trickshot… Sheek… Krystal… Ronko…”

A couple minutes later, Kyru’s immensely-blown-up profile appeared on screen with a flash effect.

Amora halted her steps to gaze up at the stunning picture, taking it in as if it was a precious gemstone. It was the kitsune combatant in a rather adorable and oddly provocative pose, appearing completely innocent in her flower-patterned yellow kimono shirt and fundoshi, both of which complemented her bright-orange hair, ears, and tail. Well, almost completely innocent, the major variation from the cutesy look being her lean, muscular, yet lithe frame, the definition of her bulging arms and legs being just prominent enough to just about make her fair skin glow gold. The effect very well could have simply been Photoshopped, but knowing the fox girl’s magic aura so well from the seemingly-countless times Amora has witnesseed her bouts, the shine very well could have been a natural thing.

The screen switched again, giving way to the inflated image of some other unimportant fighter. She blinked a couple times, taking herself away from the trance, the giant form of Kyru’s profile ingrained in her mind. She continued down the immense corridor, her bounding stride returning instantly as she made her way to the nearest exit and up the LED-lit staircase.

“I’m home!” Amora called out as she entered her apartment, flicking on the lights to reveal the living room before her. It wasn’t anything special, what with the drab sidewalk furniture and ancient tube television, but it was the same one she had lived and grown up in for quite some time, so she thought nothing of it.

“Welcome back, Spitfire!” Amora heard a familiar voice greet from the kitchen, using a nickname she had bared since she was small, and for very fitting reasons. She took few steps forward and leaned over the rest of the way to peer into the doorway of the kitchenette. Sure enough, her brick-built father, Kyle, stood at the counter, humming a subtle tune of some 80s rock song that she barely recognized as he worked his beefy hands across a slab of raw beef.

“Hi, Dad!” Amora greeted back, hopping in as she set her backpack down against the doorframe.

“There’s my little girl!” Kyle chuckled a bit, using his elbow to pat Amora’s black-haired head a couple times. “Ya look happy as always. Lemme guess: Kyru won again?”

“Of course! She never loses, and never will, especially not against a dumbo like the guy that took her today. She took him out in ten minutes!”

Another booming chuckle. “That fox girl is somethin’ else, I tell ya. Heh, if I were still a youngster like all these new guys takin’ the spotlight in the Syndicate, I’d probably challenge her, just to see what she can really do.”

Amora thought a bit on the idea, her father up against her celebrity. Knowing the both of them very well, especially as her father had risen the ranks in the Syndicate nearly to the highest top in his early days, it was difficult to gauge who would be the victor. “That’d be a tough match for sure!”

Kyle glanced over, a goofy grin across his face. “Ya sayin’ I wouldn’t have a chance?”

Amora faltered on her words to try and form some sort of response, not quite catching the joke.

“Just kiddin’, Spitfire! Yeah, it probably would be pretty tough. I’ve seen some of these new folks in the ring dish out entire hurricanes, summon ghost minions, wield miniguns that turn into a million other weapons, and so many other crazy things. And what do I got? A campfire in my hand.”

To prove just so, he piled the meat slab he had been pounding and set it in a nearby pan, lifting it up but not placing it on the stove. Instead, he placed his other hand under it, his palm emitting flashing sparks until igniting in ball of orange flame, intense enough to make the meet begin to simmer almost instantly.

“It’s still a good power to have!” Amora retorted a bit. “Even with all the insane stuff that fighters use now, fire is one the strongest forces out there, both in nature and in combat.”

Kyle smiled grandly again in turn. “That’s my girl! Smart little Amora, dishing out the facts like Einstein!”

Amora beamed in response, placing her hands on her hips and puffing out her chest.

“Now how ‘bout ya put your strength to use, too?” Kyle suggested, nodding his head toward a back room beside his daughter’s bedroom. “Haven’t heard the bags and weights in there put to use in a little while.”

“Yessir!” Amora said jokingly, making an exaggerated salute before darting away toward the training room. She shut the door as she entered the space, initially meant to be a guest bedroom, packed with all sorts of equipment. Almost as eagerly as she went to see Kyru in action, she slipped out of her casual clothes and dressed in her workout attire, consisting of little more than loose, grey boxers and a reddish sports bra. With a couple stretches to pump herself up for another session, she got right top work tackling the array of items before her.

About two hours must have swept by as Amora finally decided to rest a bit from her non-stop workout, taking the break being more of a forced action as she still felt rather energetic. Nonetheless, she sat herself across a nearby bench, leaning against the wall as she just noticed her heavy breaths and sweat-hazed vision. She peered around the area, at all the long-used basic gym machinery and punching bags that had been weathered primarily by her and her father. Well, really only her in recent days, what with Kyle’s bummed leg.

Then, the girl’s vision landed on the mirrored wall beside her, at the reflection that gazed back. She found herself examining it, taking in every detail of her own face as if she was seeing it for the very first time, the electronic image of Kyru across the giant screen resurfacing in her mind. She compared her own appearance - the brown-black waist-length hair, the almost-ghostly complexion - to that of the combatant celebrity. The sparkling skin, signature attire, radiating, golden hair, ears, and tail, and, above all, the lean and lithe muscular frame. All the physical tropes that made Kyru… well, Kyru, the champion kitsune gladiator with the rune spells. The only shared attribute between the two were the bright yellow eyes both bared.

Amora then shifted her vision at her own form, her ununique physique clad in the typical boring combat attire she always wore. Plain, pale skin from head to toe that hadn’t seen true sun in quite some time, a skinny frame that rivaled that of a tree branch, the petite breasts, the lack of any sort of muscle mass that so many of the Syndicate’s greatest gladiators had at least some of. All in all, she was the complete opposite of Kyru, and, in some ways, she wished she could be in the kitsune’s position, adored by many and baring all the assets that made her such a legend, including the rune and spell abilities.

It wasn’t as if Amora was completely powerless or weak. She did wield a very similar flame as her former-fighter father, if a very watered-down version of it. The most she could do was engulf her fists in the blue fire and use it to scorch her opponents with every close-range punch, as evident by the pitch-black, six-inch burn spot in the center of the largest punching bag.

In a world where just about any person could gain any ability at any time in any way, having some sort of power was pretty much a mandatory rule of life. Of course, not everyone had the opportunity to use them to their full potential in actual, legal competitions and such, and that was why the Underground Gladiator Syndicate was formed, allowing those who never got the chance to make it big on the surface to do so a bit easier, if illegally. Even then, because of the lesser restrictions in combat, as well as the enormous recreations of the ancient Roman Colosseum built under every one of the globe’s cities - such as the New York coliseum she had snuck into to watch Kyru - it gained a far greater following than the legally-held events.

Amora was also grateful in that sense, the fact that she had managed to join the Syndicate with so many other fresh-start fighters, even with her somewhat-weaker abilities. Of course, she was nowhere near the status of entering the coliseums’ rings, but she was a rather well-known figure in her level.

Yet, like any typical kid, she dreamed of greater and farther heights, of what it would be like to dominate every challenger and thunder to coliseum status, just as Kyru had. There was only a two-year gap between their ages - Amora being 14 and Kyru being 16, making the kitsune the youngest gladiator ever to achieve such a level - so Amora knew it was possible. She could experience what it was like to have colossal profile displayed across the 150-foot screens for all to see, to be witnessed by millions taking out opponent after opponent, to be looked up to and loved by so many aspiring combatants as a hero among heroes.

It was just a matter of how she, herself could possibly get there.

“Hey, Spitfire?” Amora heard her father call from just outside room’s door, sucking her right out of the daydream. “Ya good in there? Haven’t heard ya in a little while.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” the girl replied, standing up from her relaxed position and stretching a bit. She glanced over at the wall clock, realizing she had been in her dreamy daze for well over the time she usually took for breaks.

“Alright, just makin’ sure. And hey, I’m headin’ out in a couple minutes to the grocery store. Dinner’s ready if ya want it, so help yourself to however much ya want.”

“Okay. I think I’ll be in here a little longer.”

She heard Kyle’s muffled chuckle in response. “That’s my girl! See ya later!”

“See ya!”

With that, hefty footsteps sounded, dissipating away until they shifted to the noise of the front door being opened, closed, and locked.

Amora stretched a bit more before deciding to hit the bags yet again, igniting her taped hands and balling them into fists. With a drawing back of her arm, she readied herself for a flurry of intense hits to the target of a burn splotch, and attacked.