Within the wooded backend of Starr Park's massive conglomerate sat a host of colorful and stunning foliage and fauna. Bringing forth this verdure of vines and Pitcher Plants was the trio known as the biology bunch. A large ebony boxer by the name of Rosa, her sweet auburn assistant Bea, and their tiny creation Sprout. A plant given life through botany and technology.

It was their job to not only ensure the growth of extravagant greenery but maintain its splendor through day or night. So if it was their duty to monitor the plants, whose role was it to take care of the animals.

That responsibility lay in the hands of the tribal trio. It was the job of The Almighty Nita, Trickster Leon, and Chieftain Bo to watch over the wildlife. If a visitor was to interact with an animal they first had to be accompanied by one of these three Brawlers.

Without the tribal trio, the forests had gone wild. Barricades and roadblocks ran along the forest's edge locking off access from the general public. The greenhouse that the scientists called home was now a dreary copy of its formerly lively glory. Every day Rosa had to rescue one of her weaker companions from the jaws of massive beasts or a voracious swarm of bloodthirsty critters.

Chester was barely able to navigate the now unhinged expanse of non-native wildebeests and tigers. Snakes lapped at his ankles and he swore a spider the size of a pomeranian landed on his back once. He'd finally made it to the cleared-out bit of grass that housed Bo's abode. All the lights were off inside the shack. Even the lantern that once burned through the midnight was snuffed.

Chester made his way to the back windows. He slipped in over the kitchen sink and silently touched down behind the dining table. His eyes had grown accustomed to darkness. Irises now capable of discerning the dim differences in this dilapidated domain.

There was a pot with weeks-old soup now souring the air with its stink. A table set that had never been used. The living room's couch had a depression in the far left cushion. Signs of continued use over the years. He quickly slinked down a hallway to his objective.

The wild child must be lost. She never pursued the academics like her younger brother. She spent all her time in the woods. She was likely too scared and confused to even leave her room now that both Leon and Bo had disappeared.

He found a door with a shabby wooden sign. It stated, "OUR ROOM" and was carved with a shoddy razor. Chester placed a hand against the divider and it gave way with minimal force. Its eerie creak only added to this unnerving scene.

The two beds were colored after the teens that slept in them. Nita's toys included bones and blunt clubs that were strewed across the floor. Leon's were marked by comics he'd bought from town and action figures. The cold air from an open window pushed around the leaves resting within a dead flower pot and an open cage signified the release of a family pet.

Chester noticed the bulge in Nita's sheets and moved towards her. Her breaths were heavy as she pushed the woven fabric around her up and down. Chester could feel her body heat radiating off the cloth. When he finally pulled it away he expected to see her maroon bear pelt. Instead, he caught a gray and black mask.

The trash panda hissed at him and swung at the air in defense. Its face was smeared with the same nasty moldy goop that was permeating from the previous pot. Chester quickly ducked back, allowing the intruder to rush out the window it snuck in through.

With the unwanted squatter gone, Chester took a second to wander the empty home. All the rooms were empty. Signs of former occupation are now replaced by a barren ghost house.

Chester wondered what he had misunderstood. Nita's animalistic instincts must have sent her out of her home when Bo went missing. The only question was, "Where is Nita?"

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Furthest East of Starr Park, on the edge of entertainment and food, resting within a stone's throw of security, there is a hospital. Its doors remain open twenty-four-seven. There is a separate visiting area for intensive care patients and those resting after surgery. It has six floors with twenty rooms on each. Each landing is dedicated to a different type of emergency. General checkups on the first. Fatal injuries at the top. All are accessible by the public free of charge.

Its exterior was carpenter's bricks painted red and white. The doctor's scrubs were soft blues and pastel pinks. There were lollipops and gumdrops for the children. Licensed physicians for the elderly. Personal trainers for the broken. Any ailment had a cure. If it was damaged they could fix it. It was the dreamer's vision of Medicare.

This was not that hospital. Those bubbly workers could not be found in our offices. Our point of interest is not within the public's eye. It hides deeper within the Starr Pines. Far beneath the undergrowth lies an old steel box of a building. The grass that grew on the walls hid it from any curious eyes flying overhead. The road that led to this building was covered by trees that reached overhead to lovingly lock arms.

Inside were only twenty rooms. It was a single floor spanning a wide stretch of land. The employees were not there to smile and laugh. The beds were soft as a pillow but the atmosphere was stricter than the meanest homeroom teacher's class after the substitute's next day report.

This was a Brawler-only physician. It was inaccessible to the outsiders who found themselves residing within Starr Park's walls. Only Brawlers could schedule appointments within this clinic. When a Brawler sustained a serious injury, this is where they were carried off too.

Never showing the public the recovery process of the Brawlers was a tactic to further enhance the legendary status of these artificial superheroes. When a Brawler was found damaged from an impromptu fight they would disappear for a week. It was assumed by the public that they were busy training for their next encounter despite the near-fatal injuries.

The reality was that no matter the augmentations they were still flesh and bones. Save for those few and rapidly increasing robotic Brawlers, after a match they need time to recover. So they would come here to speed up the process.

Inside a particular room, an IV and heart monitor worked tirelessly to analyze the vitals of its patient. This was the day's only shut-in. He'd come in a week ago now and was still showing no signs of getting back on his feet. Though they were certain with time he'd recover.

Brawlers always do.

For now, a small girl rested her head on his lap. She couldn't help but softly snore with her arms resting on his legs. He peacefully rubbed the back of her head with his weak left arm. His thick black locks were matted from his previously equipped hat.

The eagle cap sat on a nearby chair with its beak facing the nearby window. Bo stared out at the trees through the vines that shielded the building from the outside. They had tightly shut the windows despite his request to leave them open. Though in hindsight it didn't really matter. All the visitors he was expecting today had already arrived.

Rosa and Bea were the first to stop by with their proximity. They didn't have much to say besides their best wishes for his recovery. After them was surprisingly Penny and Darryl who decided to have some fun at his expense. They laughed asking if he'd gotten blindsided by a cheeky shot from a sudden brawl. If only they knew the truth.

After them came Byron. He was much less jokey. He asked seriously about Bo's involvement in the reported attacks. He knew all too well that Bo had been attacked just like all the other Brawlers. Yet for some reason, he was spared. Bo kept his mouth shut though. After the information he had shared with him, he quickly realized something.

He shut his eyes tight as he remembered the countless Brawlers that visited him. Gale, Stu and his girls. Fang and Maise, Buster, and even Pam. No matter what they asked he kept his mouth shut. There was one thing certain amidst all this uncertainty. He can't trust anyone.

He felt a troubled spirit enter the room. Its muddled aura was wildly unbalanced like a child alone on a seesaw. Bo's eyes cracked open. A figure had entered his supposedly safe room. Its body was blacker than the night sky yet blue like a sea shore. A bright white haze rested on its eyes with jagged teeth like glass shards.

Bo finally felt a bit of ease. It took so long, but finally, someone he can trust. "I don't like that-" Bo's hoarse voice managed to breathe some life into the dreary room. He pointed a shaky finger with his right hand and gave a sideways smile, "You need your hat back. I don't like you sneaking up on me."

Chester's sudden arrival was a welcome surprise no matter how alarming he looked. He approached from the opposite side of Nita's sleeping form. He hid himself partially behind the bed frame, "You're alive?"

Bo nodded his head, "I'm just as surprised as you."

Chester's stuttered huffs started to dwarf Nita's powerful snores, "Y-You're alive..."

Bo stared at the shut door, "Would you wish otherwise?"

"No! No. It's just..." The dark clown took a deep breath, "I'm just happy you're alright." The chieftain could feel his hastily sewed wound itch. If this was alright then he could only imagine the state of the missing Brawlers.

They sat in silence for a bit. The ambient ringing of the blood monitors and fuzzy TV static mixed with the soft coos of owls outside. Bo's fingers brushed away a bit of exposed purple hair from beneath Nita's pelt. She grumbled a bit as she snatched up his massive thumb. The child must have been dreaming of a delicious feast as she started knawing gently on her father's thimble.

The chieftain felt a bit of strength well up. Memories of how he was placed here were brought back by Chester's presence, "Would you know who put me here?"

Chester nodded along from the side. He sat against the mobile mattress, "One of the missing Brawlers."

Needless to say, he trusts Chester's insane ramblings now. "Which one..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Bo didn't bother pressing any further. The silence was all the answer he needed. He absently whispered another question, "Crow?"

He hissed at the mention of the bird, "He's... gone."

Bo already knew the answer to this query. When Bull visited last week he was the first to grill Bo. "And yet..." Bo managed to lift his other palm. Just moving about in his sheets was a labor, "I'm still here." Bull's visit was a surprise for them both. Bull heard word from Crow that he'd been going out on patrol with a partner recently. It gave Bull a bit of relief when he realized that Brawler must have been Bo. However, seeing Bo's unfortunate state only further crushed the massive monster's squishy heart.

Bo turned to stare at the back of Chester's blue head, "Why am I still here?"

The jester shivered. A shock of frigid air rushed down his spine. Deathly dismay rolled along his tongue, "I don't know."

"I feel you've said this quite often." Again there was a heavy fog of uncertainty filling the room. The overcast was quickly broken by a surprisingly vocal clown.

"I know who it is."

Chester quickly got to his feet. He was at the window once more faster than Bo's groggy eyes could follow. "Who?" The chieftain was given an inaudible response. Broken eyes that didn't want to believe their own truth, "The girl?"

Again Chester didn't bother with speaking. He just stared at his toes as he perched himself once more on the sill. Bo's voice was the closest to a yell he could manage, "Pam?!"

Chester's white film shined under the light breaking through the weeds. He masterfully fit between the glass and wood, "I'm going to pay the Junkertons a visit."

Bo could feel the force of Chester's thighs clenching. Before he took off Bo reprimanded him, "Fool! You'd willingly rush into the tiger's den?" Bo sat up, "You'd kill yourself after all your efforts?"

Bo's sudden movements stirred Nita's slumber. The child rubbed the sleep from her eyes, "BoBo. What's wrong?"

The chief hissed as she accidentally applied pressure to his stomach. She quickly apologized though he only pulled her closer, "I'm sorry, little one." Nita's instincts kicked in. Her nostrils were quickly filled with her father's scent and she found herself unintentionally curling up in his arms. Bo took this opportunity to look at Chester, but the visitor had disappeared during the mishap.

Bo regretted being stuck in such a feeble state. If only he had stayed calm on that night. Perhaps it would be different. His son would be in his arms and they'd be resting on the couch with a silly film from Fang's action library. Instead, he was getting benched while a gazelle rushed headlong into the open fields. All he could do now was pray. Not only for Chester's safety...

...but Pam's defeat.