"Put down what you got now, put down what you got!"
"Nobody move but the goods ladies and gentlemen, nobody move but the goods!"
"Step and make those marks folks, let's get this all underway!"
Malachi stared blankly at the crowd of people with their back turned away from him as they devolved into a buzzing mass.
Members from the base were all gathered around a white folding table and dropping an array of goods onto the table.
These were things that were considered 'valuable' in a post apocalyptic world.
Good canned foods, some baked goods and cooked dishes, cigarettes, un-opened alcohol, preferred weapons, fancier soaps, candles, and things of that nature.
Ali, Rowan, and Aisha's father Trevor, affectionately dubbed 'The Oldhead Brigade'; were organizing this entire gambling exercise along with the supervision of their newest ghostly member; Marcus.
The end of the world can be hard on a man in ways that no one ever could have anticipated.
There's no more sports on tv, it's nearly impossible to get a good haircut, none of the crappy foods your wife tells you to stop eating are available anymore, and every porn site has already been taken down.
The only thing keeping the spirit of the oldheads bright was their close-knitted companionship; consisting of conversations about fatherhood, barbecue, and the like.
Usually one can find the old men in the cafeteria playing cards, but today they came up with a whole new way to relieve their boredom.
Upon sensing a bit of tension between Mal and Apophis; Rowan followed them through the base like an old bloodhound and the rest of the brigade trailed behind him.
Joanne and Belloc noticed, but both unanimously decided not to say anything at all.
When the elders noticed the two men make a beeline for one of the training rooms without stopping, they finally intervened.
Malachi wasn't sure what they thought was happening, but he heard a whole lot of 'This isn't how we settle things boys' and 'There's too much at stake to be fighting over women'.
...He had no idea if they thought that he wanted Serana or that Apophis wanted Jo, but he considered either assumption to be horribly insulting.
So much so that he wanted to put all of them into the graves that they already had one foot in.
Once the old men heard what was really going on, their attitudes did an almost complete 180.
Then, they practically started the god damned instigating olympics.
Rowan: 'Remember how he made you look like a bitch on his first day here? I do.'
Ali: 'You can let that slide if you want... Couldn't be me tho.'
Trevor: 'About 60% of the girls say he's prettier than you... I just thought you should know that.'
Marcus: 'Just make me proud, son! I didn't raise a wuss! ...Well actually I did for a while, but Big Mama tells me you've gotten a lot more courageous.'
As if Malachi wasn't sufficiently motivated enough, the old men called over just about every free member in the base and jammed them into training hall six.
They set up a white folding table to collect bets on the two fighters.
Plastered on the wall behind them were two photographs taped on a whiteboard, and the betters were able to write their names under the photos of those who they believed would win.
But instead of running at Apophis immediately, Mal relished the feeling of having his speed back for the first time in over a year.
He bounced off the walls, the ceiling, and the floor gaining more and more velocity every time that he launched himself across the room.
By now, he was little more than a blur of energy that only three within the room could follow perfectly.
Apophis stuck his hands in his pockets like he was seemingly waiting for him to finish.
"Yea... lightning is cool. It has a lot of practical uses and applications that make it really viable. But my mother and sister are storm goddesses, so I've pretty much got all of it's weaknesses figured out already. Like for instance..."
Apophis suddenly appeared on the ceiling at the same time as Malachi and grabbed him by the neck.
"If your movements are predictable, there is no point to making yourself faster."
It seemed like things were going to go just like their first meeting when Malachi suddenly smiled and revealed the four pointed fangs siting in his mouth.
Before Apophis knew what was happening, Mal had grabbed him by the wrist and successfully dug hs claws into the dragon's flesh; drawing blood.
As if that weren't surprising enough, Mal opened his mouth even wider and stretched his neck so that he could bite the dragon prince on the arm.
"What the hell...?"
Apophis' surprise manifested itself as a lapse of spacial awareness.
From the ground bellow; Ajani used her tail to grab him firmly by the neck and pulled him from his perch on the ceiling like she was plucking an apple from a tree.
She slammed him head first into the ground as if she were implanting a nail, and the crowd winced at the sound of a spine snapping out of place.
Malachi flipped safely to the side of Ajani and petted her head as thanks for the save.
"I knew I was right to pick you, girl."
"Indeed, but he's not-"
"I know. It'd take away some of the fun he was."
Malachi suddenly endured a familiar and necessary growth spurt.
His body went from being 6'5 to a significantly larger 7'2.
The muscles that were already struggling against his shirt finally won the battle as they tore through the restrictive fabric and continued to grow.
A mild itching sensation took his body by storm as fine, fluffy hairs sprang up all across his skin.
After a moment, he had a full coat of orange fur lined with bold black stripes.
His entire skull cracked open and twisted itself into a new shape; complete with a short muzzle with long whiskers and two rows of impossibly sharp teeth.
The claws along his fingers had practically tripled in size and now almost resembled large bowie knives.
He let out a roar so loud that everyone in the hall was forced to cover their ears or risk early deafness.
The only one who seemed unfazed by the roaring, was the one who was already starting to get back up...