"Kayli, you did great." Mark Gore was in a good mood. He'd made a lot of money in the tournament - the side betting had been thick and furious - and Kayli was in fine spirits. Now it was lunchtime and New York pizza had no rivals, with the exception of Chicago. He and Kayli were eating together, and he listened to Kayli's recounting of her conquests. She had a casual manner - she boasted without sounding braggadocios - but for now, Mark was quite happy to listen to her talk. Hearing Kayli's version would make it easier when it came to give his report to Carlos. Besides, Cool Papa Bell had said it best: 'It's ain't braggin' if you can do it'.

It was during one of these sessions when Mark Gore's shoulder began to hurt. It hurt because there was a very large hand pressing on it, squeezing it hard enough to test the bone. Gore felt himself being jerked up, and turned around to find himself facing one of the largest pieces of muscle he'd ever seen, a blond haired, blue eyed 'roid toy of the first magnitude.

"Hi. Take a walk." Mark Battle told him, letting him go.

Gore's face flushed, and he straightened himself. "Where I come from, a man asks if he’s wanted first before he enters the company of a lady." He knew he was going to get creamed, even if Kayli chose to come to his aid. But he couldn't afford to back away from this fight, and he'd watched the way Battle and Kayli looked at each other throughout the tournament with increasing irritation.

"She ain't a lady. Ladies don't kick butt that good." Mark sat down.

Kayli's brows narrowed for a moment. She didn't mind Battle's presence, was looking forward to it in fact, but she doubted Carlos would be pleased if Battle decided to damage Mark Gore. "Leave him alone, Battle." Kayli smiled and gestured to a seat. "I was telling Mark how I beat you." She looked at Gore. "Sit down."

Gore sighed and sat down next to Battle, who was deliberately taking up as much of the bench as possible, and had his fingers deep into Gore's pizza. "The one thing I like about New York. Pizza."

Kayli shrugged, "It's not bad." She finished off the slice she held in her hands and took a deep drink of soda. "So you're Mark Battle. Brother Mark here was telling me a little about you."

"Oh?" Battle said, eyes focused in wicked humor on Kayli’s companion. "What’s it to you, Texas?"

"This is a fighting tournament." Gore said a cold, matter of fact tone at the brute who was crowding him off his bench and stealing his food. "We talk about fights and fighters here."

Battle burst into laughter. "Yeah, we do that here, don’t we?" He slapped him on the back - not particularly hard, just enough to make him wince - and then turned back to Kayli, whose brow was crinkled with slight annoyance. "I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but I figured it’d be better if we waited until after the fight. It cuts down on the bravado. A pleasure to meet you."

Kayli scrutinized her opponent as close range. Carlos had plenty of big, well-muscled men in his employ, and they bored her to tears. Carlos also had plenty of people who claimed they could fight, none of whom impressed her. This one, though, was not just bigger than the others, there was something else. Something that reminded her of certain fellow Saiyans. Someone she could respect.

At first, she had taken him for a veteran, but his face wasn't quite so battle scarred. No, this one was still a journeyman, but a journeyman with a veteran's confidence and bearing. And he was very physically imposing and showed as much spirit as anyone else she had met on this planet. Was he the best of a bad lot? Or perhaps something more?

"Interesting name you have... Battle. Is it deliberate?" Kayli asked idly, watching the muscles of his arm ripple as Battle picked up the pizza tray.

"Not intentionally." Battle said, grabbing a second piece and wolfing it down. "But it fits. People remember it when it comes time to make important phone calls. Kayli, is that Chinese? Kay Lee?"

"No. It's Saiyan."

"Where's that? Someplace around 'Nam?"

"No. It's... ummm." Kayli looked up at the ceiling and pointed up towards the sky. "That way... I think. It doesn't exist anymore, ever since the Klendathu decided the only way to deal with us was to vaporize the planet."

Mark's half-chewed pizza spit out of his mouth. Mark Gore began to roll his eyes, then locked them straight before Kayli could look at him. He didn't know if he needed to give an excuse for her claim, or whether he should just keep his mouth shut and let the conversation evolve.

"Sorry…" Battle apologized for spitting the pizza. "That's a good one. Especially with the Jedi Knight routine you pull with that sword."

Kayli realized that Battle did not believe her. Irritating, but then no one else seemed to either, and besides, this was a interdicted world. Contact was forbidden. If she were Battle, she might have interpreted her remark as a joke. Kayli shrugged under her armor.

"I didn't need it to defeat you," she stated.

"No, you didn't." Mark smiled, shaking his head. She found it interesting that he wasn't taking his defeat very seriously. The best fighters never betrayed any lack of confidence. Of course, if that had been a *real* fight, she'd have left him dead.

"I was surprised your lost to that swordsman." Kayli added.

"So was I." Mark nodded. He took a deep breath. "But that Greye guy was better than me. I'm just starting to fill out my potential. In a year, I ain't gonna be easy for anyone to take."

"That will be impressive." Kayli said, almost unconsciously. She had been disappointed in Zander's victory. She liked the spirit in this man, the wildness in his eyes. He had given her the most physical match in the tournament. "What do you do for money?" she asked, thinking back to a conversation she'd had in a small diner in Texas.

"I'm a bounty hunter."

"I've done that" Kayli nodded, "Is there good money to be made in it?"

Mark Gore definitely did not like this part of the conversation.

"Depends on the quarry. I do a lot of normals for chump change and to keep my mind sharp. It’s a lot more of a mental challenge to hunt someone who’s trying to get away from you than someone who’ll stand and fight, even though the fight’s more fun."

Kayli nodded. Battle continued, encouraged by her interest. "Then there are the supers. I made a bundle on Skein. Mastiff's worth a fortune, though he's proving to be a problem to collect on. He really kicked my ass on our first encounter, but he didn't kill me. Big mistake. And Apocalypse Now's price is really skyrocketing, but I think the Guardians will get them. I hope they kill them. Gassing women and children for fun-" Mark's face turned angry.

Kayli shook her head, "There's no glory in that. Although..." Kayli paused, looking at the expression on Battle's face. She'd done worse, she'd do what ever her contract asked her to do, as long as the money was right. Still, there was no need to anger Battle right when things were getting interesting. Instead, she turned the conversation to more interesting matters. "I've noticed the tendency for personal dueling among this world's warriors," Kayli continued. "Who's this Mastiff? A superhero?"

Mark Gore gripped the bench tightly, but said nothing. He'd have to explain later that the people who paid Battle's bounties probably wouldn't pay her for the same service.

"He's a raging psychotic. An out of control genetic engineering experiment. Bigger than me, huge claws and fangs." Mark held out his arms to accentuate his size. "We pretty much tore apart the Omegacorp parking lot a few weeks back. We tore each other apart pretty good too. If I had won, I would have said it was a truckload of fun, but he beat me."

He sounds like a good warrior, Kayli thought. But she decided not to share the opinion. Best not to compliment this man's adversaries, he might take it as an insult. Instead, she decided to recount an old story. "I've fought similar. Kizin, taller than you, wider, probably twice your weight. On Namek one nearly took off my leg before I killed him."

"Sounds like fun. Namek? South America?"

"No. It's a long ways away," Kayli grinned. "So who do you hunt for? Do they pay well?"

"You know Kayli, maybe we should get going-" Mark Gore said. The conversation had taken a decidedly uncomfortable turn.

"I work out of a number of bail bondsman's departments," Battle explained. "Though big cities like New York or Lost Angles have a paranormal affairs division, and they usually like me working out of them and not bothering the other departments."

"So you hire yourself to local governments?" Kayli asked, looking surprised. "In my experience, that can be more trouble than it's worth. Governments shift so easily, and show loyalty to no one. The best thing to do is to find a powerful leader without political affiliations, and hire yourself to them. If you find a generous one, it can be quite lucrative."

"But Kayli, that's why you're a criminal, and I'm not." Battle said.

Kayli paused for a moment one eyebrow raised. She wondered if Battle's remark had any relevance. Mark Gore seemed very unhappy that he had said it, probably because he thought it would embarrass her. Sometimes Gore was far too sensitive. Kayli just shrugged.

"I'm a mercenary, I sell my services to who ever can pay my price." Kayli drank deeply from her glass of soda. "I'm a Saiyan as well, which means that even the weakest of us are in great demand. I can pick and choose who I wish to serve and to the Dark with the rest of them. People like me collect enemies like scars, it's part of the business. The higher the quality of one's enemies, the greater one's worth."

"Does it bother you that we're probably enemies?" Battle asked. "Your bounty is starting to climb into serious territory."

Kayli paused again. and then grinned. "Meaning that people are starting to notice me? That they fear me? I like that."

Mark Gore breathed a sigh of relief. This was working better than he had expected. He had serious doubts about what would happen if Kayli made contact with the outside world, with other authorities and loyalties. But she was holding steady.

Battle shook his head slightly, turning the motion into a roll of his neck, and finished his pizza. A lot of the bounty hunter’s cockiness had suddenly vanished, and he hesitated before speaking. His tone was low and serious. "Well, if it ever goes down between us," he said. "It’s going to be one heckuva fight."

"You got that right." Kayli nodded. "By the way, I'm glad you wanted to forget the rules in our fight. The previous matches were - boring."

"Yeah, they were, weren't they?" Battle laughed again, and his mood changed. His eyes focused intensely on Kayli. "Everything I read about you -- everything I saw -- indicated that you'd hate that rules crap as much as I do. I was just glad they allowed it."

"Your combat style is interesting. You don't use your legs much."

"I'm pretty much bulk and size, and while I can move good, I prefer more of a power stance."

"I'm not sure that's smart." Kayli's eyes narrowed. "Can you fly?"

"A bit. I’ve been trying to incorporate some Air Jordan into my moves, especially when I’m at range with someone. But I was trained in the manly art of boxing." Battle answered.

"Never heard of it." Kayli shrugged. "Saiyans are trained to use their whole body in combat. Makes one more flexible... less predictable."

"I boxed for years. It gave me about the only focus I had when I was growing up. Focus and fun. I loved taking some big, cocky smart-ass opponent and watching him crumble one punch at a time, one piece at a time. But when I was 14, I accidentally killed a kid in the ring. That's when they found out I was superhuman, and wouldn't let me fight anymore."

"What? They threw you out because someone died in a match? Who would do such a stupid thing?" Kayli scoffed. "I've killed opponents in matches before, it's expected, part of the danger and thrill."

"The Florida amateur athletic commission."

"Did you challenge them?" Kayli asked.

Battle laughed, and Kayli wondered if he was taking her remark seriously. The tendency for the people on this world to make jests out of certain matters disturbed her. It reminded her of the mahendo-stat who laughed at every little thing, including death. "Man, I wanted to. Instead, they sent me down to Chariot for training."

"Chariot?" Kayli wondered. "Where's that?"

"You never heard of Chariot?" Battle's gaze narrowed. "The Miami Amigo? The Florida Flashfire? The Cuban Cruiser? Capitane of the Keys? El Cherry Rotto? The Pin-up Boy of South Beach? Sebastian's Ass-kicker? Skein’s Pin Cushion?"

"These names mean nothing to me." Kayli said flatly.

Battle looked at her with a very odd stare. "You were telling a story," Mark Gore thought it best to keep the conversation going.

Battle smiled, put his arm around Gore's shoulder, and yanked playfully on his neck, almost hard enough to dislocate it. Kayli glared at him, her eyes narrowing as her brows pulled together.

He had Gore in a quarter-headlock, and even that hurt. So much for any further interruptions - "Well, Chariot trained me as a superhero, but there wasn't any money in it, so I became a bounty hunter instead."

"Hmmm... " Kayli nodded around a mouthful of pizza. Battle noticed that she'd calmly devoured one whole pie by herself. "I’d say that was a wise choice. There doesn't look to be any money in being a superhero."

"Not without becoming a marketing whore. I do a lot of the same work without losing my freedom. I like things the way they are." Battle answered.

"So do I." Kayli smiled. "Was this Chariot a good trainer?"

"He tried, but I've had a lot better." Mark said. "Too many of his own interests got in the way."

"Feh..." Kayli muttered, "then your time was wasted. Some "commission" barred you from fighting and then sent you to a poor trainer. I'd consider retribution."

"Ain't worth it."

"If you say so." Kayli looked up into Battle's face. "I think I like you Mr. Battle. You're like me." She paused and stretched, muscles rippling under the black fabric of her bodysuit. "What next Mr. Battle?"

This was the moment they had avoided, the moment they had both wanted from the instant they laid eyes on each other. Their eyes locked, and mouths opened slightly. Muscles tensed and breathing stopped. Everything they had said before this moment meant nothing. And every eye on the room was on them, especially Gore's bulging ones.

"I'd rather show you." Mark said.

Kayli's eyes surveyed Battle's body. "I see."

Mark's head jerked in the direction of a back room.

Kayli rose from the table and began to walk toward the room. "Kayli!" Gore wanted to shout, but Battle was constricting his neck so tightly that it came out as an inaudible squeak. Kayli opened the door and closed it behind her.

"So what's she to you?" Mark laughed as he let Gore go.

Mark Gore staggered and considered pulling out his gun. He knew the bullets would have as little effect on Battle as they would have on Kayli. Even so, Mark was both a Texan and a mobster, neither of which had any tolerance for being on the wrong end of a humiliation. "You son of a -" Mark Gore swallowed a large wad of spit and the impulse to duke it out with his namesake. Just because he was pissed didn't make him stupid.

"Bitch? Yeah, You pegged me there. Score one for the Texas ‘made man’." The bounty hunter smiled and then his eyes narrowed and his voice suddenly lost any trace of humor or swagger. "Maybe you think you're her friend?" Battle was now examining Gore closely, watching his every twitch with the keenness of a jeweler. It was really unnerving, but Gore didn’t turn his head. Battle continued. "You think your friendship's gonna end up doing better than getting her in prison? Or dead?" Battle shook his head. "She's better off screwin' me. Right now she's wasting her talents, working as hired muscle for a greedy little two-bit Southwestern parasite. She ain't stupid. She's a little weird, but she's sharp. One day, she's gonna wake up and see how much better she can do than you. If you’re lucky, she won’t kill you."

"We do alright for her." Gore replied, coldly.

"If you really care about her, you do better for her." Battle said. "I got something to do."

The two Marks, Battle and Gore, glared at each other for one last moment. There was something whirling in the pit of Gore's stomach, a homicidal impulse, stronger than any that he had ever felt. There had been a few times in Gore’s life when he had pulled the trigger on someone and watched them die. Mark Gore was not a complete sociopath, and he knew what he experienced when he killed, a gut twist: a little pity and guilt, a lot of concern about getting caught, and a healthy amount of professional satisfaction. It was rare when he actually wanted to kill his victims, rare for the emotion to match the deed. But now, he really, really felt like killing someone and it was frustrating as hell to know he couldn’t do it.

Mark Battle saw this look and nodded without smiling. Was that a gesture of respect, or a slightly more subtle version of the middle finger? Gore’s response didn’t make it passed his clenched teeth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, beyond his anger and wounded pride, he wondered what Carlos’s reaction was going to be regarding this… incident.