Big Fighter
Hi there! This is my first macro story and introduction to me. Though I've looked over it many times I apologize if there are any errors. Thanks for reading. I hope you like it.
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Big Fighter
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By Basil Darkin
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When the easygoing customers of the seedy desert bar saw the indifferent wolverine enter quietly, many knew who he was immediately, and the laughter hushed with gulps of bitter aftertaste while others at the tables and counter whispered to those who did not know of the great predator’s peculiarity. When the puzzled ones finally recognized him as the same wolverine from the boiling breaking news coverage they saw week after week with shaky footage in city after city, their shocked gasps had silently cut the stale air as he took his seat at an unoccupied stool and waited patiently for the nervous bartender, ordering a shot of spiced Have Anotter rum as unpleasant feelings were tumefying from those anxious around him, those who knew well that he was not from around here and only went from place to place for very few reasons, a familiar stranger whose immense power worked for the law.
His reach was extensive across the country, accepted by the good, though he certainly knew how to cause city property damage, tax money going out to the repairs, but he was never as hazardous as those he was after constantly, and for that the civilians were thankful for his services. He did not mean for any destruction when it came to apprehending criminals, they knew, but when he faced the danger that did mean to destroy buildings and lives he had to take action wherever he and the perpetrator were. The colossal fights left onlookers who were brave enough to remain nearby awestruck and terrified as they stared up and witnessed with shivers the unnatural combat from those whose gigantic clawed hands looked as if they could awesomely reach the clouds with ease with the simple raise of their formidable arms—though to the good the wolverine was not someone to be afraid of and it would take a whole lot more than one hundred feet to do something as magnificent as caressing the clouds, something the wolverine and others like him couldn’t do.
The wolverine hated it when people mistook him for a god. He was not a god. No size-shifter was. He himself was just a normal person who happened to have the ability to grow with enormous cheerfulness constantly present in his heart and mind, whose pleasure was giving to others great joy in a very large amount, at the same time a protector of the innocent, appreciative of all those who stood by him at his giant benevolent paws. Even when he wasn’t big, people could see him coming from a mile away, a sturdy hunter with a bear-like presence, his dark fur thick and his dark eyes full of only happiness when he was not on an extensive search. With his rounded ears he listened to all who greeted him and would reply with a wave and notice the greeters chase his bushy tail down to talk with him of his heroism, afterwards bowing to him, something the wolverine did not want at all and would get in its place after suggesting it a friendly handshake. And if his new acquaintance was comfortable enough for one, he also preferred giving hugs.
Although they would rather take firm handshakes over chummy embraces, there were plenty of tipsy, sociable, law-abiding customers of the bar that did calmly walk up to the approachable wolverine and chatted with him for some time after the kind introductions, and those who did enjoyed his company at the counter with laughter and listened intently to when he explained the science of his size-shifting ability and said that while growing it felt as if with his vibrations came painless electric sparks that shot through him everywhere warmly until he stopped at the height he wanted. He was usually asked for a demonstration wherever he went, and he had a feeling the question would come soon if he stayed in the bar long enough. When he was asked from previous crowds he readily gave the wide-eyed observers what they wished for in plenty of open space outside. It was never a tiring thing for him to do, and when he did increase in size everyone around him turned completely voiceless, quivering by the time his magnitude achieved its astonishing one-hundred-foot limit.
When towering, nothing could’ve captivated people more than a size-shifter at their maximum height, the exception arguably being two size-shifters at their maximum height and in good-versus-evil combat. The wolverine known as Basil Darkin was a part of that grand exception, and he fought for all of the country’s assaulted cities consistently, enticed by the beautiful places he had never before traveled to as he ambitiously pursued wanted size-shifting attackers.
His journey across the balmy desert was coming to a victorious end, Basil told the buzzed audience, promising them that his next favorable citizen’s arrest was to soon occur—today—since he knew exactly where his on-the-run target was in concealment. This had the listeners thrilled as they enthusiastically talked to each other about wanting to be spectators of the capture, unsteadily visualizing a giant fight in the process. While they did so with wet smiles and long chuckles, Basil leaned forward stone-faced on the wooden stool and stared passed the heads and shoulders of the standing, gathered customers, scrutinizing what was ahead of him in a dimly lit booth; a lonely, terrible pair of feline eyes the color of burning amber. He secretly glanced at them many times throughout his stay without notice from anyone besides his target, and the nefarious owner of those round flaming gemstones never took his piercing sight away from the hunter as he sipped his drink. The wolverine was quite amazed the reserved fugitive didn’t attempt to sneak out at all, but the muscular male bobcat already figured the skilled chaser had been tracking his scent for several days across the great barren land and checked the shabby motels he stopped at nightly and finally found his exact location as soon as he stepped his paws inside the bar.
Neither the bobcat nor Basil blinked as they studied each other tensely as a dragging minute passed, but the pressure was becoming too much for the stressed criminal, and from him came a heavy grumble that swept to the talkative crowd and silenced them and everyone else inside the building fast as they all turned their bewildered attention to the dark source. The bobcat got up and held his cold glass of whiskey in one clawed hand while the other was balled into a tight fist and slammed loudly on the table that made several people jump, and with his eyes losing none of its intensity and never off Basil he left the booth slowly and was cleared a path to his new enemy as the crowd anxiously parted and observed the young perpetrator with caution. He was a year older than Basil, wearing a T-shirt and jeans like the wolverine was, his fur tan and spotted but white around his angry jaws, his sinister fangs gleaming in the light as he gritted his teeth and stopped when he was ten feet away from the composed twenty-three-year-old arrestor, drinking some of his alcohol as the cubed ice rattled with all wary eyes on the two of them mutely and wondering with unspoken excitement what would happen next.
“I’ve had enough of your dawdling, Darkin. Arrest me,” the bobcat spat, his growls deliberately churning stomachs.
Basil gave no reply. He merely remained sitting where he was and smiled affably.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Are you brave enough to do this? Are you?” the bobcat said acrimoniously, standing tall and intimidating.
As the crowd whispered gravely—recognizing the bobcat as Kanen Wagner, the size-shifter that recently was an assailant of the sea-coast city Nedra 380 miles west—the wolverine unhurriedly pulled from his pocket what looked like a buckled shock collar, but in reality it had fascinating, unbreakable wires built inside its black nylon that was a technological achievement in physically shutting off size-shifting. Once around the neck, no one could even grow an inch. Basil held that lockable collar on his lap and smiled on as he gave the perturbed bobcat a gentle look that asked, You don’t really want to do this the easy way, do you, Mr. Wagner? You prefer the hard way, don’t you?
Kanen Wagner eyeballed that collar distastefully for awhile. He took a few steps forward and then snorted and hissed and with a clenched fist ejected discourteous words to Basil. His face was vicious and his carnivorous eyes brightened as he ridiculed the wolverine’s heroics. As he went on and on Basil’s eyes revealed that he was simmering within, and though this was the reaction Kanen wanted his arrestor’s heated, alarming stare forced him to take a step back and go quiet for a moment.
“In the wake of your destruction you’ve hurt a lot of people in Nedra, Mr. Wagner,” Basil said, with a hint of anger. “Luckily no one was killed and all of the injured are getting better in hospitals. They and the rest of the city want justice, and I’m going to make sure they get it.”
“And I’m going to make sure they don’t,” Kanen replied, snickering. “I want to visit other cities. I want more fun.”
Basil shook his head disapprovingly. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
“No.”
“You couldn’t just stick with the Wreckage Parks?”
The bobcat knew of the vast modeled cities in covered stadiums found all over the country, a place for size-shifters to rampage without needing to grow, destroying artificial buildings perfect for four-inch action figures. He had visited Wreckage Park several times, but he thought the protective gear was ridiculous, and with the roads only hard rubber and the buildings made of thin drywall and the windows clear plastic…
“It wasn’t real enough,” Kanen said. “This doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy myself to some extent. There were punches and the collapsing towers and the squashed cars made from aluminum cans, but I wanted glass and concrete and steel. And do you know what was really missing?”
“People,” Basil said, sighing.
Kanen grinned menacingly. “That’s right. People.”
“There are graphic designers working on frightened holograms for the parks.”
“As if that would have made me stick with the fakeness,” Kanen said irritably. “It’s too bad they won’t allow size-shifters to shrink and play the scared citizens. They don’t want accidents. Well, I don’t make accidents.”
“You want to hurt people.”
“You understand, I think.”
“There were times when I was younger that I wanted to juggle cars in junk yards and stomp on them until they were as flat as they could get, and there were times when I wanted to bring down vacant houses scheduled for demolition. But I did none of those things, because I had control of myself and stuck with the parks and stayed out of trouble until the day I had to act and save civilians from garbage like you, causing city damage while doing so, but I’m paying for it, you see? And as for you hurting people for fun, no, I don’t understand, Mr. Wagner. Now, are you ready to be collared?”
Kanen pounded his chest with his fist like some bold combatant. “You’ll have to take me on if you want me collared, Darkin,” he answered vehemently.
Basil frowned as the crowd oohed with surprise. “You want a fight.”
“Yes.”
Then the wolverine smiled. “You want me to embarrass you in front of everyone here, huh?” he said tauntingly.
Kanen glared at him and spouted vulgarity and then heckled Basil, shouting deeply that he could easily beat him.
“I don’t know about that, Mr. Wagner,” Basil said, getting excited. “I’m not convinced you can. I mean, you seem like the type that’s never dealt with someone who can be the same size as you. You’ve never been fair, never challenged. Inside, I think you’re really afraid of those things. You’re scared you’ll lose and cry over some boo-boos.”
The crowd held back derisive laughs as Kanen yelled, “Boo-boos? I can handle more than boo-boos! I’ll show you how fair I am! Let’s grow, right now!”
“And ruin the bar? No.”
“Fine. I’ll grow.”
There was fear on many people’s faces as the wolverine scowled at the threatening criminal, his sharp white teeth bare, and Kanen quickly and timidly decided to remain at his regular height. The crowd had taken a few steps back from the size-shifters and for a whole minute spoke to each other about evacuating the building, but they all went silent when Basil nonchalantly stood. The composed arrestor looked around the crowd and turned to the counter to see the middle-aged bartender gulp; a slender, scared bandicoot. Basil nodded to him with a long, fixed stare of cordiality and reassurance, and the bartender relaxed with deep breaths and a returned nod. When Basil turned his attention back to Kanen, he casually placed the collar back into his pocket and gazed at the bobcat with solemnity.
“Not here, Mr. Wagner,” he said. “We’ll grow outside, beyond the lot, across the road. That’s where we’ll fight.”
Kanen snorted loudly. “All right.”
“You can finish your whiskey first. It’s going to be your last.”
With his pointed ears folded back the bobcat finished his drink without haste and released the glass after he held it away from him. It broke on the wooden floor with the ice melting as Kanen watched his foe argumentatively.
“Anything else need to be said before we go on, Darkin?” he asked harshly, with a feral snarl.
“Yes,” Basil replied. “Are you wearing the shorts? Or is public nudity going to be added to the list?”
“I’m wearing the shorts. Can we go now?” Kanen shouted.
“One moment.” Basil turned his words to everyone else loudly but kept his eyes on Kanen. “For those who want to watch, finish your drink and pay the tab. Mr. Wagner and I will wait ten minutes. After you, Mr. Wagner,” the wolverine said with a smile, gesturing to the exit.
The bobcat’s words were boisterously crude as he told people blocking him to get out of his way with arrogance, and they immediately did so, some glowering at him while others appeared ill to be near the bitter fugitive as he passed them like some wild oppressor.
“That glass he broke, how much did it cost?” Basil asked the bartender. After he was given a quick honest answer he said, “I’ll see to it that he pays for it, and tips you generously.”
The bandicoot thanked him and got to work with the eager customers as the wolverine followed his enemy out the door, those who would be outside with them believing the great hunter would beat the criminal with no effort at all.
Beyond the desert road was an ample, parched field, and it was here that the two size-shifters were boldly ready, their clout equaled to each other as they stood a few yards apart on the warm dirt and glared with frowns, the wolverine inkling thrill while the bobcat was inkling worry. Around them for miles were crude dirt roads that led to old shabby factories, where gray smoke no longer belched from these tumbledown architectures, bordering corroding pipes and dark volcanic rocks, all alien-like, and behind Kanen the village buildings far away were colored beige and autumn gold as the lingering blanket of inferno-resembled clouds above were to blacken in half an hour, like hardening atmospheric lava of the sky. As the watchers came and gathered thirty feet behind the hero they were rooting for, Basil and Kanen shed their clothes until they were only in breathable polyester-like shorts that were tough and durable and made of special threads that would grow with them to any size, the wolverine’s azure, the bobcat’s bone white. The criminal walked back and forth self-importantly, flexing his muscles with a grin. The crowd bravely booed him as Basil asked his adversary how high they were going. Kanen promptly suggested fifty feet for now, and grow more as the fight goes on, and his favored opponent agreed.
Their bodies blurred disturbingly as they vibrated and grew, and with reverence the astonished crowd gaped at the gigantic Basil, several coming near his huge paws hesitantly, wanting to touch the kind giant. After the wolverine regarded them amicably, he said it was all right for anyone to approach him and feel him and that he’d stand still until he had to go deal with “fluffy.” Any fear the people had left them and two small crowds went to his black-furred ankles and petted him there, Basil appreciating their rubs and company. The impatient bobcat made loud unpleasant sounds, but Basil replied no shouts and did not move his paws until everyone below quickly left him and went back to the large crowd that was safely far behind the wolverine. The size-shifters moved toward each other on the field as Kanen scolded Basil and his crowd thunderously.
“Once I beat you, Darkin,” he said afterwards pompously, “and I mean really beat you, I’m out of here, and I’m taking down buildings when I do so, and then I’m going to make sure you never catch up with me again. You can go ahead and stand in the ruins of my aftermaths.”
“None of those things will happen, Mr. Wagner,” Basil said matter-of-factly, his fists down at his sides, tight and prepared for usage.
Robust delight came from the crowd, exciting Basil’s justice. The wolverine nodded to them and admired their confidence in him, and then began the action of tremendous intensity. It was an ecstatic joy to see Basil gut punching Kanen punitively, his hard hits sounding explosive. Kanen’s sickle-shaped claws did cut him at times under his thick fur, and there were areas on his body that were bruising, but Basil always kicked him down before he could ever hurt him badly, but he couldn’t keep him down when he tried to pin him into submission, since Kanen still had plenty of strength left to keep up vicious attacks. Whenever they clashed, their mighty collisions seemed to quake the land around them, and the giants’ falls and stomps were creating numerous clefts on the dry ground as the onlookers continuously balanced themselves, never ending their cheers for the hero.
There was a point when Basil shoved Kanen down and pounced on him that the optimistic crowd could see their massive bodies blur, and as dust rose around their wild colossal movements with Basil on top of the fugitive, all of the watchers stepped back at a greater distance as the remarkable, grappling fighters grew bigger and bigger, from sixty feet to seventy feet and then on to eighty feet, until they reached their maximum height. Kanen thought he could get bigger than Basil before the wolverine could and be able to get up and be back on his paws again, but Basil equaled him and kept him down this time, the smothering dust elevating skyward and the spectators and ground shaking as Basil hollered for Kanen to give up and shrink. After the wolverine gave a few more solid hits that were dizzying the weakened bobcat, Kanen yelled his surrender tiredly and shrunk down to normal size with Basil and lay where he was breathless as the panting winner kept him pinned and called for someone to go to his dirt-covered clothes and grab the collar and padlock from the pocket of his jeans. A female tabby cat brought them to him with haste, and Basil placed the collar around the lightheaded criminal’s sweaty neck and locked the buckle without any problems.
The police were called, and already tranquility was returning in the air. When the authorities arrived no statement from the wolverine or questioning of witnesses was needed. The two coyote officers knew of the authorized work of Basil Darkin, and knew of the wanted runaway size-shifter Kanen Wagner. The defeated, miserable bobcat was dressed in his dusty clothes and handcuffed and taken to their flashing car. When Kanen was driven away the happy crowd praised Basil all the way back to the bar as the sky darkened into night, his breathing no longer heavy after drinking free water, getting the grit off his tongue and washed away from between his teeth.
After thanking everyone for their congratulations he sat alone at the counter restfully but pained. The bartender noticed attentively, and things were running slow enough that the good bandicoot gave the dusty wolverine his full attention.
“Will you be all right, sir?” he asked.
Basil smiled sadly. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”
“If you need a first aid kit—”
“I have my own back at the hotel, thanks. It’s not that bad. I’ll be leaving soon, get a shower, clean the wounds, take some pain pills, and then go to bed.”
“It’s the same old stuff, huh?”
The wolverine’s stomach churned as he sat quietly for a moment. “There’ll be more. There’s always more. I’m surprised there’s not a list.”
The bartender nodded sympathetically. “Would you like more water?”
“Thank you, no.”
“Maybe another drink before you leave? It’ll be on the house.”
Basil politely ordered a shot of rum and regarded it with a lick of his lips when it was poured in front of him. He brought the full shot glass to his nose and smelled the molasses and sugar and gulped it down with his exhausted face scrunched. Then he remembered what he had told the bartender earlier, and went through his pocket and pulled out the money he had taken from Kanen’s wallet after the fight. He gently handed the cash to the bartender.
“Mr. Wagner wanted me to give this to you,” he said with pleasure.
“Thank you. You know, everyone left here to watch you two go at it,” the bandicoot informed him.
“Everyone?” Basil said, a little bouncy. “I knew it was a lot, but I didn’t think it was everyone.”
The bartender nodded. “It’s not every day people see two size-shifters fight. If it happens before their eyes, they’re going to watch it. This doesn’t surprise you.”
“No, I guess not.”
“I even watched, from the door. I saw all I needed to see.”
“Yeah? What’d you think of it?”
“It left me breathless, in a scared way.”
Basil moved around on the stool with a chuckle. “Well, that happens for a lot of people. You’re not afraid of me, though, are you?”
“No, sir,” the bartender answered calmly.
“I appreciate that,” the wolverine said sincerely.
“If I may ask, how long have you been doing this?”
“Four months if we’re counting the very first one, before I was arrested for city damage.”
“The law is letting you do this instead of time.”
“I don’t have much of a choice,” Basil said. “This may be my job, but it’s the only one I’m allowed to have. If I don’t do this, I immediately end up where Mr. Wagner’s going.”
“I see. Did you ever think your life would be this way?” the bartender asked.
Basil lightly gave a nonthreatening growl and replied, “When I was a young kit, I loved playing this trilogy of games about a heroic bandicoot. I don’t recall ever thinking that I wanted to be him, but the concept has always fascinated me. There is something adventurous about what I do, and I can’t say that I don’t like helping people. So I guess in some way this sort of life was coming one way or another. There is danger, yes, and I worry about lives at stake, but to be a hero, I love it. Truth be told, I’m not sure what else I’d be doing if I didn’t have this.”
With great joy in his eyes, Basil tipped the bartender and shook his hand and wished him a good night, and with a smile he left the bar and beheld the bright, attractive white moon and the countless blinking stars. It was a nice night for a walk, he thought, and once he was out by the black road he undressed and grew to a hundred feet with his clothes in his closed hand, and in nothing but the shorts he sauntered his way to the direction of the hotel, glad that all had gone as expected today; the normal same old stuff.
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