Cat and Mau5

“I don’t know, man. I guess I was born in the wrong era or something. I miss when music was made with instruments forged from wood rather than mashing a few buttons on a computer.”

Gerard nodded in agreement, fingering the moisture on the outside of his glass. They’d been sitting together for close to an hour now, talking easily back and forth over topics they seemingly held similar opinions on; music, books, films. The conversation always came to a head on the same point, circling back to how much they preferred these mediums of entertainment before they were technologically up to date.

For example, Gerard was quite a sci-fi movie buff until the things portrayed as being futuristic became staples of his everyday life. There was something wonderful about knowing a great chunk of the film budget went into CGI, where the filmmakers would desperately try and make this otherworldly device look natural and realistic. Nowadays if they wanted to showcase the use of a teleportation device they simply used one. Sci-fi was pretty much a dead genre. If a new piece of tech was dreamt up it was instead worked on by the big companies until it became a reality, rather than used fictitiously in a piece of film.

Frank snorted briefly.
“Listen to us” he smiled, realising the irony. “Bitching about tech and how books used to be all paper and spine. The only reason I know who you are is through an intergalactic robot fighting circuit.”
Gerard laughed loudly, nodding again.
“Good point.”

Apart from the very beginning of their conversation Frank had mostly bypassed the subject of UFC, probably not wanting to seem like the desperate fan Gerard had come here to avoid. Gerard felt a little bad about it, like perhaps he should offer an autograph or something. But then that seemed a little conceited, that he would thrust forth his penmanship when it hadn’t been asked for.

“Have you watched much of T45h before today?” he asked casually, easing into the subject.
“Um, a little” Frank replied. “She seems alright. …I mostly just follow you though.” Frank flushed a little, but didn’t look away.
Gerard felt a little flutter in his stomach but he willed it away, meeting Frank’s eyes steadily.
“It’s okay to talk about it, you know. It’s kind of my life.”

Frank grinned, as if he’d been waiting for permission.

“How did you get into it? Forgive me for saying, but you don’t look like your typical fighter.”
Gerard waved away the comment, knowing it and having accepted it long ago.
“No, I know. I, uhh. I wouldn’t really say my decision to join was all that typical either.”

It was a question that tended to get bypassed in interviews nowadays. He supposed that the circuit was all too used to his presence now and were always more focused on what was coming next rather than where he began. However, this was a story that he always liked to revisit. And there was something about Frank that made him feel particularly forthcoming.

“I guess I always liked it, just like everyone. Me and my brother Mikey were in our teens when UFC started coming into prominence. The whole family used to huddle round the television set for Fight Night and we all got really into it. Mom used to swoon over the fighters, Dad was really into the tech and I guess me and Mikey just liked the action.”

“I used to geek out so bad” Frank grinned.
“Oh man, us too” Gerard laughed. “I mean we were in our teens but when our Grandma Elena bought us our first set of Mini-M1ce it was like the fucking best thing ever.”

He reminisced about that Christmas. He and Mikey had pushed all the furniture back against the wall and spent pretty much the whole day making their mini mau5bots fight each other in the centre of the lounge. It had quickly gotten on their mother’s nerves, but their grandmother had sat by happily all day, cheering on each of her grandkids in turn while she sipped on sherry and made them stop every once in a while for sustenance.

“We used to pile our money together to buy the latest model and Mikey used to hand out cheap business holo-cards to the kids in the neighbourhood, offering to fix their broken m1ce for a fee. It was our escape, you know? School was pretty shitty mostly, but whenever we could get a neighbourhood M1ce tournament going it made everything feel easier.”
“Plus you always won, right?” Frank asked, tongue in his cheek.
“Mostly” Gerard smiled back. “Mikey wasn’t so great at execution, but he got really good at the tech and fixing them up; modifications and stuff. He’s my chief mau5 mechanic now” he grinned with pride.
“That’s really iced. Sibling team. I take it you work together pretty well?”
Gerard nodded.
“Yeah, he’s like my best friend.”

Gerard gave Frank a grateful look as another cigarette was offered, willing to talk as he smoked now that he’d already savoured the initial stick.
“So, how did you get into the big leagues?” Frank asked on his exhale.

Gerard’s smile mellowed out, sadness creeping into his eyes. He took another drag of the expensive cigarette before he continued to speak.
“My grandma always believed that I had a talent for it, that it wasn’t just a bit of fun. She believed I was born for it, and that I could really do it if I had my own mau5; beat the best of the best, travel the world and make people happy.” He inhaled again, pressing the pad of his thumb to the corner of one eye. “When she died, she left her inheritance solely to Mikey and I.” He choked out a short laugh. “Apparently she’d been quite explicit to my parents about how she wanted us to spend the money. She wanted us to buy a mau5 and she wanted us to get me in the big leagues together, as a team.”

Frank shook his head in amazement, curling a hand around Gerard’s forearm in comfort.
“That’s amazing; that she believed in your abilities enough to ensure that you could get started out.” He grinned. “Coolest Granny ever.”

Gerard looked up, once again smiling despite himself. He didn’t shift his arm underneath Frank’s grip.
“Damn straight.” He gestured with the hand he held his cigarette in, continuing his story. “So from there we decided to fucking honour her crackpot wishes, you know? We bought a mau5 – a beat up featherweight to begin with because that’s all we could afford. Mikey fixed it up some and we got my username registered with the bot license. I fought in underground circuits for about a year just trying to make a name for myself. I got picked up by an indie who let me fight friendlies on their tv slot every week until I was big enough to get sponsored. That’s when I met Perry – my manager – and he got us in a featherweight tournament. Didn’t lose a single fight, won the cup and by then I was pretty hot shit.” He smiled, remembering. “Soon there was noise about moving me into the heavies, and my sponsors came together to get us enough money to get a heavyweight mau5.”

That had been a wonderful day – looking through all the basic bots and deciding which to get for Mikey to fix up and make their own. They were all subtly different – in terms of layout and default stats. And then he saw her.
“That’s when I really came into my own” Gerard said. “When I got my heavyweight bot.”
There had been something about her, sitting in the corner grinning at him, collecting dust. Gerard had decided he was gonna rescue her from that warehouse like the sport had rescued him so long ago.
“I call her El – named for my grandmother” he explained. “- and now I’m fighting my way up to the World Championships.”

Frank was grinning with admiration again, and with one last squeeze he removed his hand from Gerard’s arm.
“Seems like a pretty awesome life. Is it?”
Gerard smiled genuinely, as he always did when this question was put to him.
“Pretty fucking much, yeah. I get to travel not only the world, but the galaxy doing what I love. I get to fight, train and mingle with the hottest fighters on the circuit. And above all I get to help people.”

Frank had rested his chin in his palm and was quietly watching Gerard as he spoke, wildly gesturing with his hands to emphasise his words.
“This world is dark. We have stuff, all this stuff, but we don’t have happiness, and trust and fucking decent food. Everything’s mass produced and synthetic because we’ve destroyed everything. Machinery and electronics we don’t need we have aplenty. But naturally grown fruit, vegetables and fucking coffee? We have none of that. Or if we do it comes at a price; a price that not many can afford in this economy.” He took a steadying breath, aware that he’d digressed into one of his rants. “Almost everyone I know is on tranqs or mood stabilisers. Because what do we have? In the past people used to pour their passion into sport, or fiction, or music made with actual heart. Those things are a dying breed now. There’s no escape.”
“Except UFC” Frank smiled softly.
“Except UFC” he agreed. “It’s pretty much the only thing we’ve got left; the only thing that everyone can look to when they need to forget how shitty their life is. We’re here to fight, to entertain, so that people can pour their passion into us; pick their side and cheer us on ‘til the end. Because we’re all going through the same thing. And it’s okay, because we’re just as messed up as you.”

Gerard took another deep breath, feeling better for saying it. When he slid a look over to his companion, Frank’s eyes were a little glassy, even as he kept smiling. Gerard froze, unsure what to do when Frank sniffed loudly and swiped a hand across his face, looking a little embarrassed. Thankfully he saved Gerard from having to make some sort of awkward reply as he declared:
“I’m not on tranqs. I’m not on moods either. And it’s all because of you.”

Gerard could feel his heart clutching at his rib cage. It hadn’t worn off. Every time a fan told him how much he’d helped them the feeling never dulled. Perhaps his responses had become routine over time, but the sincerity was always just as strong.

Frank took a sobering drag on his cigarette, exhaling and blinking away the moisture in his eyes.
“Everything you just said is right on the money. There’s no hope, no happiness that can be easily found. But I found mine in you.” He held out a hand that Gerard took in a stationary handshake. “Thank you.”
Gerard squeezed Frank’s hand and smiled. It was finding people like Frank that made everything seem worthwhile, even if on occasion it left him a little speechless.

Frank took his hand back and finished off the rest of his cigarette happily in silence, signifying to Gerard that he wasn’t in need of a response. Gerard followed suit, inhaling the last of his and stubbing it out in the ashtray Frank pushed his way.
“They’re too fucking good” Gerard said, shaking his head reverently as he blew out his final exhale.

There was a pause between them as Frank stared at Gerard’s face with a considering look upon his face, as if he was weighing up options in his mind. Gerard felt a little flushed under the intense gaze but couldn’t make himself look away. Frank did once, briefly, looking to his lap and smiling to himself. But his features were focused when he looked back up. Slowly and deliberately he slid his gaze from Gerard’s eyes down to his mouth, held, and crept back up again.
“I’ve got some more back at my place.”

Frank’s voice was steady with the suggestion but Gerard’s heartbeat was far from calm. Just in that one gesture Frank had made it perfectly clear what was on offer, and another cigarette was only just touching the surface. What shocked Gerard more than anything was that he wanted it, even more than he’d wanted that first smoke.

Gerard didn’t do this. Gerard was an intergalactically renowned star. He might not have got into this game for the fame but it had clung to him nevertheless. Now it was an everyday presence in his life, one that he couldn’t discount. Gerard was well aware of the emotional investment the fans placed in him and had never wanted to abuse such unconditional affection. Gerard didn’t fuck fans; plain and simple. That had never been what this was about.

But for the first time in months, perhaps even a year, Gerard found himself wanting to bend the parameters of his own rules. In the space of an hour this had gone from being a fan, to being Frank. Frank who wears t-shirts that most would see fit to be binned. Frank who smokes authentic tobacco cigarettes despite the law. Frank who misses the smell of paper and ink cased in the spines of musty old books. Frank who thinks Elena was right.

Gerard hadn’t found anyone he could talk to so easily in a long time and he was damned if he was going to lose that by sticking to a set of rules that thus far had only brought him loneliness. Plus, he won the fucking match.

Casting aspersions to the wind Gerard leant forward before he could talk himself out of it and met Frank on the mouth. Frank’s was soft and malleable under his and opened up easily. When the kiss ended Gerard drew back only slightly, so that when he spoke his breath cooled the saliva that clung to Frank’s bottom lip.

“You live local?”
Frank pushed forward and ravaged Gerard’s mouth once more before he answered, already becoming greedy for the taste.
“I know you have a match in the morning” he replied assuredly. “You’ll get there.”

Gerard hopped off his barstool and took Frank by the hand, hoping they were safe enough in this neighbourhood to escape the paparazzi.
“Lead the way.”