On the tenth belt, there was a saying among men: if there isn’t much going on in your life, and things are quiet where you have been living, and entertainment is a bit hard to come by, then come to the twelfth deck.

After all, one could see ravening cats in action, not just inside the cat ring but outside, too. One could often witness cats preying upon not just rats but also spiders, snakes, and scorpions in the streets. For the onlookers, their hunts were satisfying at many levels. Cats were rarely looked down upon by hollows because the felines made the deck a safer place, except for causing people to step on concealed cat crap all the time.

However, in recent times, the perceptions of hollows on the twelfth deck were exceedingly altered, for the worse, due to the wicked works of a particular cat—Bruiser. Cats in the cat home came in all sizes and strengths. None, though, were bigger or better than this meter-and-odd long enormity who became infamous for bringing down bigger prey and breaking them into digestible bits with his much-feared teeth and claws.

From the day he arrived at the cat home, no cat could let his fur fly, even after numerous attempts of ganging up on him. His savageness helped his superiority sink into the souls of other cats with but a swing of his paw.

When food supply was in shortage, some of the cats in the cat home were usually let out to unobstructedly roam throughout the deck, which helped in containing the number of petty animals. Bruiser, unlike any other cat in the recent past, took full use of this system during his initial days on the deck and brought terror to hollows and entries by mercilessly attacking them for no reason. He was nothing similar to other cats, which usually begged for bread and milk at whichever booth they would come across. In Bruiser’s case, however, if booth owners didn’t provide him with food at sight, he didn’t think twice to sculpt their skin with his claws and leave scars, seemingly sliced by the swords. There were times when he also led clowders of cats and took revenge on certain humans. In a short time, in many eyes, he had become the brander of bruises, or much worse the human equivalent of a king who held every right to do whatever he pleased to his subjects as far as the twelfth deck was concerned.

Many men on the twelfth deck saw people go down than go up, not wanting to face the claws of cruel cats that formed clowders, which Bruiser almost always presided over.

In time, Bruiser’s bruising tales and winning streak spread throughout the deck, and from thereon, he really took pleasure in his freedom, for whenever he wanted, he could wander off to wherever his nose pulled him and legs took him. The referee and the assistant referee gave Bruiser such a luxury as they were given back both victories and profits. As time passed, more and more people disrelished Bruiser and any news that regarded him. During the deck tests, most people who hated him had always bet against him, thereby resulting in substantial profits for the management and the referee. Although in recent times, the gains have significantly reduced because of Bruiser’s rare appearance inside the ring, the mere utterance of his name still prickled many an ear, and claws many a bruise.

Currently, in the test hall on the twelfth deck, as many hollows and entries witnessed Bruiser conducting his routine ritual on Lirzod, their bruises ached all over again and drained whatever color left on their faces. Resultantly, they looked like they were on a ship drifting through rough waters and high winds. Each weighty wave swashed chilling water aboard, and each change in the air currents instilled forbidding fear in their hearts and brought back all the terrible memories of Bruiser, which had scarred their souls. As perturbing memories surfaced out, the audience couldn’t even root for Lirzod and fill his heart with enough spirit for a fightback.

When almost every mouth except that of Bruiser went silent in the hall, “C’mon!” a feminine voice reached many ears. “You can do better than this! Show that Bruiser some of the morning stars!”

Everyone turned to the source, and what they saw was Sariyu taking the job of getting the contestant’s juices running.

Her words reached not only many ears but also some hearts. A few men then began to back Lirzod with their voices, too. Their combined voices entered Lirzod’s ears amidst all the screaming of the cat, and his eyes opened.

“Have this grass!” Lirzod thrust his hand at Bruiser’s face, and a couple of grasses entered Bruiser’s nose, causing him to back away in startlement. Lirzod stood and shook his head to lose the detached hairs and the dribbling blood. Though not a drop of blood dripped down his face, stains of blood blemished his cloth, especially at the collar and shoulder regions. If not for his dense hairs, more fresh bruises would have been evident other than just the one on the neck. “It seems like that wasn’t enough.” Lirzod eyed the cat with a sharp gaze, “Worry not. I have more grasses for you to guzzle on.” He dashed toward the cat, and suddenly, the offensive ineptitude that had reflected in his movements for much of the time during the test was now replaced with a passable panache made somewhat evident through his fleet-footed steps.

Bruiser, although initially turned his back to Lirzod, his eyes still flared with renewed fury, and he eventually circled Lirzod and attacked from behind.

Lirzod swiveled back at the last moment with a swing of his arm at Bruiser’s face. Bruiser curled into a ball in midair, and seemingly dodged Lirzod’s attack by flipping over his hand, set feet on his biceps and landed a paw strike on the back of his ear. Though Bruiser’s claws didn’t thoroughly dig into Lirzod’s skin, he got sufficient grip to climb to the top of the boy’s head and resume the ritual from where he left off.

Lirzod, who was in mid-motion, got forced to fall to his side. Everyone thought that it was the end this time; howbeit, Lirzod didn’t succumb to the cat’s ways. Before Lirzod hit the ground, he randomly endeavored to grab Bruiser and ended up holding him by the tail. He recklessly pulled the cat off his head and spitefully twisted his wrist, popping the veins in his arm while spinning the cat by its tail. “You like being on top so much, huh, then let me launch you to the heavens!” Putting aside all the pain in the nagging neck and head injuries, he hurled the cat straight up, “One blast for all bruises!”

Bruiser’s body whizzed through the air akin to a stone flung by a sling and would compete a cork blasted off a champagne bottle in terms of speed. Before Bruiser could stop his eyes from rolling, his head got bashed against the ceiling, followed by the inevitable crash down right back in the ring, definitely not on feet, in a fall as if from the heavens to the level of Lirzod’s feet. All of it happened rather quickly, and the blast had disbelief cross the features of the crowd and also helped cancel out even the few trifling boos. Some rubbed their eyes and looked twice or maybe thrice to ensure their eyes weren’t gulling them with guileful games. Though Bruiser wasn’t moving, many people hesitated to come to any conclusion. A few, however, still teetered between dubiety and daydream.

“Oh, I forgot about the ceiling,” Lirzod said, and his lips set into a thin line as he crumpled up the remaining grasses in his hand.

Upon hearing Lirzod’s words, the audiences sucked in breaths that put all the stagnant air in their mouths into motion. As the air molecules revitalized the living cells of men, and as their eyes took in the view of Bruiser lying on the sod like a cold corpse ready to be buried, splendid daydreams abounded, but at the same time, sweat fought for places on their faces.

“D-Did he win?”

“Looks like it, but he should get his hands on the cat if not the headband before the clock runs out.”

“He still has about a minute, so there’s no real hurry, right?” Tension thrived in the hall through the vacillating tones of men.

“Not if Lord Bruiser gets up and going, for things will get back to square one. He should hurry.”

“Get the headband, boy!” Many men shouted at the top of their lungs. “Do it quick! Finish the test!”

As with any test, it was one thing to position oneself for a great finish, but it was an entirely different thing to close the door shut. Many audiences, especially those who often involved themselves in bettings, knew it better than most as to how even seemingly simple tests could end up becoming inevitable tribulations that required one’s all. Though the thought of such a thing happening right now seemed as inconceivable as beholding a bolt of lightning coming down from clear skies, their feelings told them to expect otherwise.

Lirzod, meanwhile, was staring at the cat with narrowed eyes, and when his gaze focused on the tail, it moved just a bit, only scarcely, but Lirzod’s eye caught it. “This cat…” He grinned like a Cheshire cat and stepped ahead. Acting like a dead serpent, are you? You must have killed quite many of them, but maybe to your lack of formidable opposition, you seem to have not fully mastered the art yet.

As Lirzod approached the cat and bent his spine to pluck the headband, the cat suddenly leaped at his face, startling the audiences; however, Bruiser’s claws didn’t reach Lirzod’s face, for the human held the feline’s tail tightly. Still, Bruiser didn’t give up and continued to resist subjugation through verbose screams. A lot may have had transpired in the ring by then, but Bruiser didn’t want his victory run to end. He wished to continue rewriting the history books on the twelfth deck. Though he was made to look a bit stupid when he got sent packing to the ceiling, he still wanted to shine brighter yet by the end of the test, not just for the sake of his record but also for the sake of his pride. All of it reflected through his attacking mindset and crafty claw movements which would have been far too much for many onlookers to handle, but having kindled the acids in his stomach, Lirzod rode the momentum and kept the scratching and clawing at bay and appeared to be on his way to a momentous—if not picturesque—victory.

Lirzod’s actions alone took the stage to rile up the crowd into backing him, for they were shown a tantalizing potential they’d probably remember for the rest of their lives. Before long, ‘Bruiser be gone!” chant broke out in the hall. Jehez was inimitably surprised at the fact that people have omitted the honorifics when mentioning Bruiser, slightingly proving that it was the first time that ever happened before his eyes.

Under such circumstances, winning over Bruiser seemed a trial far more realistic to overcome for some elastic hearts in the hall while some with loose, crass tongues didn’t hesitate to bring them into play.

“Take the headband, and piss on that sable pussy!”

“Nah, spank him hard enough he meows for his mama!”

“Screw all your spineless curses. He must skin the nine lives out of that impudent puss!”

Many more men continued with cursing the cat through expressive imprecations.

Even though Sariyu’s ears had acquainted themselves with a fair share of profanity over the years, they now wished to briefly shut and spare themselves from bleeding out the surviving sensitiveness. Following that, two of her fingers helped her accomplish just that.

Less than thirty seconds were remaining, and though most people wanted Lirzod to win, they were too absorbed in asking Lirzod to beat Bruiser, they forgot to tell him to get the headband first. Lirzod, however, was fixed on pulling out the headband, but it was tied in messy knots and didn't slide along the tail even after numerous tries. “Why is this so tight?”

Jehez, seeing Lirzod struggle, silently smiled. Fool, that knot hasn’t been touched by any hand in weeks. You’d be lucky if you can undo it in three full minutes. You lost this game before you even started it. Thanks for deepening my pockets, though.

“Lirzod, time is running out,” Sariyu shouted in a hurry, “do something.”

“I know, but this, ngh…” Lirzod couldn’t concentrate while his arms were continually being blemished by Bruiser’s efforts. The action of holding the cat firmly came at a cost, but he was more worried about the test than the pain. “Ah, screw this.” He put the tail in his mouth and harshly bit it.

Bruiser squealed out a horrified howl, which turned out to be a piece of orgasmic music to many ears.

As all the audience's eyes were ring-gazing, a reddened headband rose high into the air.