All he had to show for it was a busted lip and a busted ego, both of which hurt pretty bad.

Adding insult to the injury, he would have to serve under greenbean Chuck Tannis, who couldn't throw a punch without breaking his thumb – and Rowan knew this because he had seen it happen, twice. Tannis wasn't a threat, or so he had thought before the kid had nailed him in the head with a fist like a brick.

Khan, his previous mentor, was leaning against the doorframe and picking his at his nails with a hunting knife, like he did when he tried to look intimidating. It might have worked if Rowan didn't know his tricks. You train with someone long enough, you get to know the guy, and Rowan had trained with Khan for a long time.

"That'll be your second loss won't it, after me, of course. How did that greenbean kick you in the pants, I thought I taught you better? He was feinting on that one where he got you in the gut, but I liked the drop-kick, I thought you had him there. But that final punch, the uproar! Betcha there'll be a lot of money switching around, you've lost me a good bit of cash."

"Go tell it to Chuck Tannis." Rowan grumbled, changing the TV channel with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"And you're not off the hook, either. You know how many of my intermediates I'm going to have to promote because of you? Once you're won back there's a huge group waiting to snatch a good fighter up for their team, but I'm going to cream you, punk."

Rowan just shrugged. If he beat Tannis he'd be able to start his own competing group, but even if he tried he'd be beat in two seconds. Primaries almost never fought, leaving the real dirty work to their secondaries. While Rowan liked being a secondary for Khan, he hated being intermediate. Always biding his time, getting into dirty scuffles for Khan's sake. He doubted Khan had been a fight for months, judging by how his eyes weren't blacked. Most brawlers looked like raccoons after a good fight. He couldn't hate Khan for it, but sometimes it seemed like secondaries took the brunt of the damage. Rowan was Khan's lead secondary, with Jasper and Hal as his backups whenever he was occupied. Both were quick and smart under pressure, but they couldn't pack a punch like Rowan could – and like he would when he socked Tannis in the jaw.

"That makes Tannis primary, you see? You won't have to fight his primary battles, at least, but there are good secondaries out there. Watch your back, kid, especially with Tannis. He's new – give him any lip and he'll bust your face again. And if he does bust it I want to be there to watch, okay?"

Khan didn't seem caring, but Rowan again knew better. "Thanks for the pep talk, Doc."

"Least I could do." Khan shrugged. "And I'm sending Hal in against Yuri Arkenian, so get back here soon, okay? I could use you when he's beat. And don't start thinking independence!"

And then he was gone, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Brawling was the most followed sport in the city, all over the world, set on a basic system. Once you start out you're clean, and whoever you beat in a fight they have to work under you. You can send them in for battles if you don't want to fight or fight yourself. If you lose, though, you have to work under whoever beat you. Hierarchies weren't used so much, since only a few brawlers had the remaining brain cells to understand them, but they fell simply. Leader of the gang was a primary, and the people he sent in to fight were his secondaries, intermediate brawlers. Under secondaries things started to get more confusing, with the unused fighters simply training for when they could possibly fight again, or just lazing around. Another things about brawling – when you're in, you're in for good. There's never any escaping the ring, and you can't just drop out.

Rowan had decided that was the life for him, but Tannis? He had a family in the city, a nice big home he could return to and regale the household help with his glorious victories. Real brawlers lived at the ring, and real brawlers only had slums to return to.

He was supposed to meet Tannis later that night in the Vicarious Vixen's bar a few miles away, but wanted to be way late, a way of showing Tannis he wasn't satisfied with his unfair victory. He might be put in a few more fights for it, but Tannis was new and wouldn't have too many challengers. After the high of winning a fight, too, he might want to go in for more.

Only when it had been dark for hours did Rowan finally venture from the apartment and set off for the bar. It wasn't a long jog, and when he arrived he saw the place was full to bursting with rookie brawlers, a few of which he'd had the pleasure of teaching a lesson. In fact, he saw two kids with black eyes he had personally delivered himself. The mood of superiority faded, though, when he saw Chuck Tannis himself standing on top of a pool table, regaling anyone who would listen about his victory. A huge group of people were gathered around him, watching as he reenacted the fight.

"And then he dodged, and I punched like this –" Tannis mimed a violent punching motion – "And he fell straight down. Boom! I got 'im good."

"Fantastic. Tell me, when are you signing autographs later?" Rowan asked as he walked through the door, and Tannis squinted at him in the dim light of the bar, then laughed.

"The man of the hour himself. Welcome, Rowan! Nice to see you finally arrived."

According to the brawling rules he couldn't deny a summons from his superior, and he raged silently for a moment before trusting himself to respond civilly.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He jumped onto a barstool and took a warm beer from the bartender. "Drink to your victory, Tannis. A toast!"

Tannis paled under his freckles, and Rowan knew he had probably never drank before. One strong shot might knock him out. Winking at the bartender, who winked back before pouring a shot of something into Tannis' beer, Rowan hoisted up his glass.

"To Chuck Tannis! Who can hold both his position and his alcohol."

"To Tannis!" The rookies cheered back, and Tannis took a sip of his drink. His complexion changed like a stoplight – from red to yellow to green, then ashen gray as he tumbled to the ground. All the cheers died as the rookies stared at Tannis' prone figure.

"I take it back..." Rowan joked, taking a drought from his bottle and passing the bartender a tip. A few guys grabbed Tannis and dragged him to the back of the bar, so stuff like that must happen a lot. The rookies now clustered around Rowan, sitting on the ground like students playing school, and begged him to tell them about his finest fighting moment. Feeling a little reckless from the spirit, Rowan obliged.

"This is something all brawlers will never cease to brag about for the rest of their days. You're lucky I keep my trap shut. Anyways, I was in the ring against a secondary, and I was tertiary back then, but Khan's secondaries had been spent that day in their own battles. He had nothing to lose, so he figured, hey, why not send this loser kid out to fight?" Even the rookies knew who Khan was – primaries were like gods in the brawling world.

"So I go up to the ring, about to pee my pants scared, and this huge hulking secondary comes up, and I tell you, this guy's massive. Must've been twenty pounds when he was born, monster-huge. And then I thought, okay, better write my will now, this dude is going to punch my brain out of my skull. I'm done for."

"But you got 'im good, didn't ya?" One of the rookies shouted, banging their beer bottle against the ground in excitement.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to that. So anyways, I go and get ready to fight, no boxing gloves or anything like that, and he cracks his knuckles, and those knuckles were like nuclear bomb blasts, they were so loud. But I look this guy in the face, and I tell him he's going to lose. Nice enough guy, just said 'Okay, kid.' and got on with the fighting, didn't gloat. Always be respectful when you fight." I point my bottle at the crowd of rookies and they nod eagerly.

"Did ya give him the old one-two?"

"I'm getting to that, shut up. So we dance around each other for a little bit, and I can take some hits, which he wasn't counting on, and I got some good ones in on him. But the crowd was getting mad, fighting isn't ballet, so I came in on the guy full-force. He wasn't expecting me to, and I got two swipes to his head before he threw me across the ring, but I was up again and hooked his feet in mine, tangled them and he was down, at my mercy. Paralyzed with a choice kick and I pulled him apart."

"That's not a good story at all." Someone groaned. "You didn't even brag about it."

"But it's a true story, kid. And I'd best be off before featherweight Tannis wakes up again."

If there's one thing rookies were good at it was spreading gossip, and news of Rowan's revenge match against Tannis even reached Khan's ears.

"Fight smart, okay? In the ring and out of it. Tannis can't touch you there, but watch your back."

Rowan nodded, but wasn't worried. Tannis was a rich kid, and Rowan lived in a slum apartment. High-and-mighty folk wouldn't step foot near where he lived.

The next day Tannis had recovered from his drinking, although it was evident from his frequently taking pain meds that he had a bad hangover. 'Practice,' or his wimpy equivalent of it, was giving a two-hour pep talk to his gang, Rowan and another kid so small and wispy if a good wind came by he might get blown away. Easily tertiary, and definitely not a real brawler.

Rowan fell asleep twice during the talk, and after the kid woke him up for the second time Tannis' face had turned fire-engine red. Khan would have beaten him hard if he had been insubordinate during his practice, but Tannis knew he couldn't win against Rowan again and didn't want to pick that fight. Maybe it was due to Tannis' sheer stupidity that Rowan was spared from more time in his presence, because after the second practice he whispered. "Tomorrow. You're going down."

Rowan happily relayed this news to Khan, who smiled encouragingly. "Way to go, kid. Don't forget, I'm going to win you back in a second. Don't get used to your freedom."

They laughed and joked, but an inkling of a plan was forming in Rowan's mind, one Khan would never know about.

As the fight approached, Rowan trained on his own. His apartment was already a mini-gym already, and his neighbors either didn't care about the noise or had moved away because of it. Dangling punching bags creaked under the force of his fists and feet, and he darted between them, aiming blows, imagining sending them into Tannis' frame. By the time he finished he was soaked in sweat and exhausted. Not exactly Rocky, but not too bad, he thought.

All the brawlers knew about the battle, and as Rowan walked to the arena he heard the jingling of coins follow him the entire way. Even ordinary citizens were coming to watch the showdown, which was pretty impressive, since most citizens only came to watch primary battles, which were few and far between. A little boy was waving a flag that read 'Go Tannis,' and Rowan took it from his hand and snapped it in two, letting the pieces fall to the ground. The boy looked at him in shock.

"You'll be spared the embarrassment later." Rowan called over his shoulder, jogging the rest of the way to the arena's wide open doors.

The arena was built in a warehouse, with only one ring and the rest of the room taken up with seats. Even so, the stairs and walking areas were always packed with people coming in to watch, and today was no exception. The line for tickets wrapped all the way around the warehouse, but Rowan slipped into the fighter's door in the back and hurried to his locker, changing out of his street clothes into his fighting gear, which was essentially just a pair of worn boxing shorts, since boxing gloves and shoes weren't allowed. Khan was waiting for him in the locker room, and Rowan groaned when he saw him.

"You're not going to give me a pep talk, are you?"

"No, simply alert you that Tannis leaves his right flank wide open when he hits left."

"I know that."

Khan shook his head. "Why do I even bother talking to you? Go out there and prove your worth."

"Why do you care?" Rowan asked, eyeing Khan curiously.

"Because I'm going to try to tackle Pace, and I could use my strongest secondary back."

Rowan's jaw dropped to the floor. Pace was another famous primary who hadn't seen much action in a while, much like Khan. And primary battles were enormous news, even bigger than revenge battles.

"Have you told anyone else?"

"You're the first. And don't go spilling my secret after the battle."

Rowan shook his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "I won't, I swear."

"Good. Now get out there, kid. Show greenbean what you're made of."

The crowd was enormous, the biggest he'd ever seen for a secondary battle – or rather, a primary versus a secondary. Tannis stood in his corner of the ring, blowing on his knuckles and waving at the girls who shouted his name and blew him kisses. His stance was lax and Rowan knew he wasn't ready for the fight. He didn't know what was coming.

Everyone rose to their feet as Rowan stepped into the ring, with Khan standing behind him, water bottle ready, although Rowan doubted he would need it. Tannis' aide was a tall, lanky man who looked to be his father, and Rowan almost laughed at how pathetic they looked standing there – even the secondaries had their most impressive men stand in as their aides, and Tannis' father was still dressed in a work suit and pastel slacks, looking uncomfortable in the arena. Rowan could understand that – at least half the crowd was shirtless and roaring for blood, probably a different scene than what Mr. Tannis was used to. Most brawlers treated non-brawlers with contempt, though, so Rowan could laugh at the clear discomfort written across the man's face.

"All right, lads, you know the rules." The ref said. Referees were almost a joke in the arena, since close-quarters fighting was encouraged, as was foul play. This would be a dirty fight, Rowan knew Tannis wanted to win and wouldn't play clean. He was ready, though, and he rolled his shoulders back, feeling the oppressive heat of the arena pushing down on him, and the roar of the crowd shake the ground at his feet. "Are we ready to begin?"

"Ready." Rowan muttered, lowering himself into a fighting stance. Tannis did also, his eyes gleaming with anger. Rowan had done everything he could to rankle him, and he knew Tannis wanted blood almost as much as the crowd did. But it won't be yours.

"Begin!" The announcer shouted, and Tannis launched himself at Rowan, arms extended, all pretenses abandoned. Diving to the side, Rowan spun onto his back and planted his heel in Tannis' stomach, pushing him to the other side of the ring, where he landed hard against the barrier ropes. Rowan was up on his feet in an instant, but it took Tannis longer, crawling to his knees and glaring at Rowan with boiling hatred.

"You want some?" Rowan opened his arms and grinned. Tannis looked positively murderous as he stood gingerly, but Rowan didn't falter, edging towards his primary with raised fists.

The punch came like a truck, but Tannis was letting his anger get to his head and it was far wide, letting Rowan get in a good jab to the chin. To his credit, Tannis stumbled but didn't fall, then swung his arm again as he stood, so lamely it was comical, and Rowan spun around, pulling his knee in, and then lashed out with elastic energy, planting his heel into Tannis' ribs with crushing force. All color drained from the primary's face and he collapsed backwards, gagging and gasping. Rowan advanced, but before he could strike at Tannis again the whistle blew and he retreated to his corner, where Khan stood, looking angry.

"Stop playing around. You could have finished him already."

"I know, I know. I just want him to taste it."

"I don't think he can taste anything after that jab of yours."

"I'm honored."

Khan huffed. "Just get this over with. Don't get too cocky, too, or you may find yourself second-rate back here."

"You just wounded your best secondary's feelings."

"The whistle blew, go get 'im."

Rowan wheeled and faced Tannis again, who looked slightly refreshed from the break, but he gave him no respite sending two quick jabs at the primary's face. The first hit was sound, and Tannis weakly batted the second away, then aimed a glancing blow at Rowan's shins. The strike made contact, but Rowan hardly felt it, dropping and striking at Tannis' inner knee. The pressure point forced the primary down and Rowan hit him across the face so hard he could see Tannis' eyeballs rattling in their sockets. He wouldn't last another strike like that.

The crowd was frenzied, jumping up and down, screaming for a finishing hit, when Tannis leaped up with remarkable speed and tackled Rowan, full-out tackled him, and the two went crashing to the ground. Tannis dug his knuckles into Rowan's sides, but the secondary whipped his head back and cracked his head against Tannis', and despite the throbbing pain in his skull he knew it was worth it. Tannis groaned and spat, running back to retreat and regroup. His father shouted a word of encouragement at him, but it was lost in the cacophony in the arena.

The second whistle blew and Khan looked even more frustrated.

"You're toying with him, and he's injuring you. Finish this!"

"I didn't know you cared."

Rowan wasn't sure if he really truly liked Khan. He was an experienced mentor and skilled teacher, but Rowan was nearing if not surpassing his skill level, and he had never experienced a revenge battle. He wanted to make Tannis hurt for as long as he could, make him suffer for the embarrassment Rowan had faced. Every punch meant something. Khan couldn't understand that. Maybe Rowan appreciated Khan, but perhaps their bond only extended to there.

And that would end tonight.

Tannis looked like a zombie when the whistle blew again, his limbs hanging weakly, jaw slack and bloodied. Rowan narrowed his eyes and smirked at his primary, who was too tired to retaliate in a way other than scowling. When Tannis ran at him he raised his arms, ready for the swipe, but before the primary could even make contact he had looped his ankle through Tannis' and yanked his feet out from under him. The primary fell to the ground with a dead sense of finality, and the fight was over.

The announcer crowed the victory to the crowd, but Rowan simply turned to Khan, who had entered the ring, smiling ever so slightly.

"Congratulations, Rowan. Shall we begin?"

And Khan was going to win him back, just like that. According to the rules of brawling, now that they were both in the arena the rules of the fight would still apply. But Rowan was ready, and before Khan could even ready himself he struck.

Rowan doubted he had ever hit someone so hard in his life. His fist smarted with pain, but he let out a holler of triumph when he saw Khan stagger to the side, then crumple to the arena floor, eyes glazed and unseeing.

"Don't worry, Khan. You'll be my favorite secondary." He whispered to the fallen body, then turned to the crowd as they showered him with their praises, barely believing their eyes. Two birds with one stone – that's not bad going.