Forever Anvil, it was the shirt he'd had made special for Jonathan. It was the only one of its kind, but it was the point of everything that was trying to say to everyone. From the shirt to the song Centuries which he'd modified to speak more about what he really wanted. To be remembered, fondly by some and in as many ways as could be by everyone else. He'd lost the fight, but it was never about the win for The Anvil. All he needed was to be so outrageously charismatic that no one could talk about the event without mentioning him.
He'd spotted Jonathan and Mataya, even gone to talk with them. To those observing, those that knew him in this particular theater it likely seemed business as usual as he posed for a picture, and he made a show of posing as usual. A few of those closest to him knew that something was wrong. They knew him well enough to see that his act was a little more forced, had even questioned if he was alright. What could he say really' That he knew he wasn't going to win, that he understood it the moment he knew where the fight was to happen" Was he supposed to tell them that the ring was all wrong, and that without the screaming crowd he knew he couldn't perform the way he should" He'd gone in blind, not knowing who he was to fight, not that he hadn't done so before and won. Bile was in his head that night, knew what he was going to do before he started. That wasn't particularly unusual either. Kruger wasn't afraid of Bile, the man was a well accomplished fighter in his own right. Then again everyone he'd faced this season stood well above him in rankings and most of them had gone down. Likely they'd underestimated him. He'd still stand toe to toe with anyone, and had even with legends in the ring.
It was never the win that was important, Kruger had written what was important in his note to Mataya. "Everyone should see at least one Anvil fight." Why say it exactly that way' Because it was his show, the melding of a ridiculous song to the moves and strikes. The superfluous grin and pose had taken a long time to become, if not respected, at least hoped for. The show, pyrotechnics blazing Disturbed's Want blasting out of speakers as images of The Anvil came to life on the Jumbotron, no other fighter in the venue dared to be so outlandish. It hadn't been received well when it started. Now there were ninety thousand that came out wanting nothing more than to be present when The Anvil stepped through the flames. They reached to touch him and he let them do just that on his slow walk to the ring. They weren't there, he'd tried to go bigger spending more on the fireworks that exploded from every corner of Hydra Corps rooftop than ever he had for any fight including through the Iron Fist League. They would know he was fighting, perhaps they even cheered, but from down there on the streets he just couldn't hear them. Did anyone understand how much that crippled The Anvil" Sure the ring had no ropes, no turnbuckles for him to do high risk aerial moves. Yes, the mingling of the three disciplines of fists, swords, and magic was difficult to wrap his head around. These things mattered so much less than the fact that without the crowd they'd ripped out his heart.
He wasn't alone, not by a long shot. Amazingly enough there were fans on the other teams as well. For all he knew Bile might have been one himself. He'd done his best to compensate bringing Mataya and Jonathan and several others from the Shanachie group. He still performed, still acted as audacious in the ring as he ever had. He had to just to show those few who'd shown up that it was true, The Anvil was forever.
He'd managed to be able to focus on specific parties when the stands were filled and the roars deafening. Tonight he hadn't been able to, the fight was too intense. He kept wishing to see how they were taking his performance. Had Jonathan loosened up a little" Had Mataya managed to forget who she was, how she was supposed to act and cut loose" This was always what he wanted to give people when he was up there in the ring. An hour, maybe more where they could be part of something wild and crazy. Want was his theme song, and there were many reasons that was so. There were personal reasons for choosing, it but high among those was his own want for those who looked on. His want for them to leave behind, even if for just a little while, everything that weighed them down. For that small space of time, The Anvil would shoulder those burdens and turn them into something to scream for. Maybe that was why, to Kruger even when he lost' he always won.
Mataya had worn the shoes, never questioning him on how he knew her size. He had, of course, asked the girls down in the costumes department, but would never reveal that secret. He'd done so without considering that rumors might start. Rumors were something he ever cared about. If they'd wanted to know the truth they'd have asked him' right' Regardless he was glad to see her with them and the purse. Mataya was shrewd, he was fairly certain about that. She'd certainly be able to quash any kind of wrong thoughts if they came about. Perhaps she was even astute enough to understand after watching Kruger perform in the ring what had brought him to audition at the theater in the first place.
Jonathan understood it as a man plays many roles in life. Kruger had spoken to him many times of those roles but hadn't, until tonight, managed to get the man to come out and watch. He knew it wasn't really something that interested Jon Granger and could respect that. Maybe now that he had seen it once he could understand all the things that Kruger couldn't really explain well enough. That was his hope anyway. It wasn't Kruger who'd posed with them, or left the ring and went over to thank them for coming. It wasn't Kruger who apologized for not being victorious that night. Kruger would have gotten tongue tied standing that close to Mataya. He would have accidentally ignored her and focused all his attention on Jonathan. It was The Anvil, the role that he wouldn't drop until he'd removed the outrageous outfit and left the venue far behind. He had no doubt that The Anvil would become legend, but Kruger was just a man. He walked the midnight streets of Rhy"Din wondering and worrying like any other man. A smile tugged at his lips as he passed a couple strangers as he overheard bits of their conversation.
"Did you see the fireworks on the Hydra Corp building?" The first one, a teenaged boy dressed in gang colors said. He was too young to be out at this time, or at least he seemed to be. The person he was with was a bit older, and taller but they shared some of the same facial features. Kruger suspected it was an older brother.
The older boy nodded and simply said two words. "Anvil fight."
"Really"! Did he win?" The younger boy's tone had gone from Rhy"Dinian thug to jubilant youth.
Shrugging the older boy's deeper voice cut across the quiet. "Does it matter?"
"Nope," The younger kid shook his head. "Cuz I'm sure he was all like. P"Chow!" He did a fair imitation of Kruger posing and flexing.
Distance obscured the rest of the conversation. Hearing it had given him a little hope. If two boys from the streets got it, then those he chose to reveal it to might get it as well. The venue may have ripped out his heart, but it was still down here and beating" forever.
