The first fight was laughable. Dust understands afterwords that the fight's only purpose was to pair him with an obviously weaker opponent so that way Dust wouldn't look as strong for winning. There's a bruise on his face, and an ache where a blow landed on his ribs, but Dust is otherwise unharmed. The other guys has a broken harm and bloody bruises where Dust's skeletal hands broke skin.

The hour between fights is frustrating to Dust. He's come to hate idleness. Being left alone with his own thoughts is maddening. Giving in to his bloody impulses would be so much easier. There's a small knife under the sole of one of his worn sneakers. It would be so easy to pull it out and stab that cat monster a few benches away in the neck. Then Dust could use his magic and make of a massacre of the entire place. Monster dust is easy to hide, but the human bodies might be more of a problem. Violence is the only thing that has made sense to Dust for a long time. Lost in thought, Dust doesn't hear it the first time when someone called for him. He only notices as a human snaps their fingers in front of his face. Dust's eyes focus and he looks over at them.

"Finally," the human girl huffs in frustration, "You're up now. Boss wants you in the cage first." She turns an walks away, but mumbles underneath her breath, "Fuck'in weirdo."

Dust bites back a nasty retort. It's not worth it. He sits up and walks towards the locker room's exit. He shrugs out of his jacket and drops it on a bench as he walks past. The thin, plane white tang top he's wearing underneath leaves his arms bare. Scars littler the bone and cross over one another. The owners have asked Dust before to fight without wearing his jacket. Humans seem to like showing off skin and muscle. Dust doesn't care either way. Without his jacket, he looks thin and fragile with the skeletal features. Dust is anything but fragile. Every time his bones have beet cut, cracked, or crushed, they only heal back stronger. Dust is proud of every little rough scar.

The crowd cheers as Dust's steps into the room. The cage door is open just long enough for him to slip through before it's locked behind him. The loud yells and screams of the crowd annoy Dust. He's not looking to make other people excited. All that matters is temporarily satiating his bloodlust.

The other side of the cage has its own door, and a human is let through, causing another wave of cheers from the audience. Dust smirks. The male human towers over Dust. They're shirtless, and Dust is a little grossed out by their sweaty body. The human sizes Dust up. The human doesn't seem to recognize Dust, and their confidence skyrockets with Dust's rail thin frame. The owners tend to pair Dust up with people that won't recognize him yet. Humans always seem to assume if a monster isn't physically big, they're weak. Dust loves watching their confident grin turn into a horrified scream.

There is no countdown. A loud bell sounds out, and Dust launches himself forward. The human halfway expected Dust's aggressive start. The man lunges to the side to avoid the initial attack. What they didn't account for is how light Dust is on his feet. The monster twists one foot to skid and slow his moment while twisting around. Dust is able to change his direction almost instantly and lunge again. His open hand connects in a forceful swipe against the man's arm. Dust's fingers aren't sharp enough to truly split skin like Horror's, but they're enough to leave stinging scratches and bruises. Dust likes to play with his opponents for a while before getting serious.

The man retaliates quickly. Dust isn't quite fast enough to avoid the heavy blow to his chest. The air is knocked out of him, but even so, he starts giggling a breathy laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. This will be fun. Dust holds his ground as the human goes for another blow. The monster dodges to the side at the last moment and spins around on one foot to create some distance between them. It takes the human a few seconds to be able to turn. In that time, Dust ducks down low and charges forward before ramming himself into the man's waist. The human staggers, but it's not enough to knock them over.

Dust has purposefully put himself into a vulnerable positions just to see what would happen next. The human tries to slam both their fists down onto the skeleton. Dust jerks his head away before savagely biting down on the other fighter's wrist. They howl in pain and surprise. Dust smiles wide and makes a point of staring his opponent down while licking his bloody teeth. The crowd goes wild at the display.

The two of them continue to exchange blows back and forth. Dust does little damage, trying to keep the fight going for as long as possible. His soul seems to sing in glee at each little act of violence. This is the beast that he was molded into. He craves bloodshed and the wild dance with death. Consumed in battle and adrenaline, Dust can imagine that nothing's changed. The precisian and fluidity of his movements increase as Dust fights. His high LOVE begins to make an appearance. Dust's reflexes and senses switch into overdrive as they recognize a true fight. It feels almost as if he's on human drugs.

Covered in forming bruises, scratches, and a sheen of sweat, the human fighter has also noticed a change. He barely keeps up as Dust flies at him again and again. Dust backs off momentarily after landing a solid punch. He's laughing loudly to himself now, half crouched with his arms raised. There's something wild and primal in his stance and expression. A chill runs down the man's back. As he looks at Dust, the human sees true insanity. Malicious intent and high LOVE permeate through the air. The building pressure is suffocating. It's too much. The human fighter raises up their arms and surrenders.

Dust's manic smile drops instantly. "You-you can't do that," he hisses out, but his voice is drowned out by the roaring of the crowd. He takes a step forward to try and continue he fight. The door on other side of the cage is already being opened. The human darts out of the arena and actually slams the door shut behind him. Dust begins to shake in rage. He sees red, and for a moment, Dust feels his magic gearing up to blast the cage around the arena into piece so that he can continue the fight. The only think keeping him back is the knowledge that he won't be able to fight in the club anymore if he murders everyone in the building.

Still shaking with barely contained rage, Dust finally whips around and storms out of the arena. A few people from the crowd try to congratulate him. Dust ignores them all and pulls away from anyone trying to touch him. He feels if he he might break the next set of fingers that come close. Dust is so filled with fury that he doesn't even register where he is going. He looks up to find himself somewhere else in the labyrinth of the abandoned building. The voices of the crowd is only a dull roar now. Finally alone, Dust's rage gets the batter of him. He slams a fist though a rotting section of wood. He proceeds to rip up walls and smash anything in sight. The anger is all consuming. By the time he's done, Dust is shaking from exhaustion rather than emotion. Two walls are completely destroyed. Dust's hands are cracked and drip blood onto the floor. He stands in the dark room, alone, for a very long time.