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Darem, Ocam, and SAM watched the screen. Genesis, very carefully, very quietly, watched her friends. She had positioned herself at an angle so that she could see them while still appearing to face their entertainment for the night; always one to manage her appearance and reception, tonight felt a little bit risky.
It had been SAM's idea, of course. Once they had fallen into a certain rhythm as classmates and then as friends, SAM had suggested that they make an effort to learn more about each other and each other's worlds. There had been some push back from certain parties (Caleb being noticeably absent, tonight, for example), but they had still done several of these "cultural presentation" evenings. Jay-Den had set them around a brazier with low, glowing embers and told some of the campfire stories that his family would share - not the high and ancient lore of Kahless but rather whispered tales of spooks and specters that form in all cultures. Ocam had brought in an array of baked treats that he had replicated but also then taught them how to make one of his favorite snacks, a pastry-wrapped fruit with something like chocolate sprinkled on top. He was a little apologetic to SAM, since she couldn't eat any, but she waved this away with her usual cheerfulness. Darem, unwilling to be called out as a poor sport, did a recitation in his native language with SAM translating for the others. The recitation was part of a ceremony of graduation, of advancement for youths toward adulthood.
And tonight?
Tonight it was her turn.
But Genesis hadn't been sure what to bring. Family stuff didn't feel right for her. Tradition and culture were important, but she wanted to share something that, well, she wanted to share. Many years ago, when she was little and they had been stationed briefly on a little satellite with a fairly small population, she had become friends with a man who worked maintenance and always had time for a bored kid looking for something to do. He had taught her some mechanics and systems work, but the real treasure had been the day he made a reference to his favorite source of entertainment.
"So, this man, he assures the aftercare and ceremonies for the deceased, and this...wrestling is his hobby?" SAM asked, brow slightly furrowed. She was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor, leaning forward, eyes shining in the colorful flashing before her.
Ocam, perched on the edge of the bunk, with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting lightly on his hands, smiled, but it was Darem, who had been so calculatedly cool and detached, who replied. "Pretty sure it's just a name, SAM. Something to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies! Q'apla!" He struck his chest with his fist and looked a little sadly at the corner where Jay-Den should have been. At least he had made his apologies about missing the night, whereas Caleb muttered something about menial labor hours and ducked out right after dinner.
"I'm sure it's supposed to intimate that he can handle his opponents no matter what way they meet him - alive or dead." Ocam added.
"There has been a being filling the role of The Undertaker since some of the earliest recordings of the sport. Sometimes there have been assistants and cohorts and changes in their presentation, but it has become a legacy title, with one wrestler selecting and training the next as they come to the point of retirement." Genesis hesitated. "Or had been. There hasn't been a cohesive attempt to return to wrestling as a league or federation for a few hundred years, but there are always pockets of interest."
Darem sniffed, a little disdainfully. "Does it really count as a sport, though? It's clearly scripted." When he saw her eyes narrow, the boy quickly held up his hands, palms out, to mitigate offense. "Not that they aren't skilled athletes, of course, but it's not a real competition, right?"
Partially assuaged, Genesis internally conceded the point. Even when she was little, she could see that it wasn't just beings punching each other to prove themselves the better fighter. It was a show. It was, in a way, a sort of long-running drama featuring love and betrayal and all of the things that made people...people. Just amped up and covered in sequins. She didn't address the statement, though, because SAM was still paying more attention to the screen than to them.
"And why use a collapsible chair as a weapon? It seems ill-suited for the task at hand."
"Probably because it was at hand." Ocam joked. He was rewarded with a sidelong glance and grin from his friend on the floor.
"Prop work is also very traditional part of the...show." Genesis ignored Darem's smug smirk and pressed on. "Like the titles and outfits, the battle expanding beyond the ring adds to the event. In some of the cycles, they actually move beyond the stadium in which they started the bout. Oh! There was once a fighter who was also a chef. He came to the ring wielding dough! He would fold and work the dough and use it as both a distraction tactic and a weapon."
Ocam, Darem, and Genesis slid into conversation about things that they thought would go well in the shows, different backstories that different beings could have, different roles and tools and alliances. They laughed through what they would choose for their name and theme, and regretted, as a group, that Jay-Den was absent for this. Then they began to design character names and concepts for their own imaginary league.
SAM watched on, eyes wide and absorbing everything she saw. She asked questions and got answers and stored up more questions and ideas for later.
--
"Okay! You have all completed the basic - and I mean BASIC - maneuver training. These are good, flexible maneuvers that allow beings of many sizes and shapes to seize the advantage. In today's class, we will be pairing students with one another to practice these forms. Each bout will go until there is a pin or submission. If I tell you to stop, you will STOP IMMEDIATELY. Today's goal is to demonstrate understanding of the fluidity of advantages in close combat." Lura Thok ceased her militant parade in front of SAM, who had a hand raised. "Series Acclimation Mil, you have a question? Or would you like to be excused." The teacher leaned over, her standard glare having no effect on the youth.
"A question. You said we are demonstrating the fluidity of advantages by displaying the forms and maneuvers we have been taught?"
"More of a restatement of my instructions than a question, SAM. Please get to the point."
SAM was unfazed. "Are we allowed to express our advantages by displaying a combination of tactics learned in this class as well as others?"
"You are to express your advantage in whatever way and means you deem accurate to your learning and experience so long as you do as I say and stop immediately upon instruction, pin, or submission. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, CLASS?"
The students chorused the affirmative as their teacher resumed her patrol, only to stop in front of Caleb. "Cadet Mir, you seem particularly unenthusiastic about today's class. Perhaps you are so comfortable with your own advantage that you would like to step tot he mat first?" She sneered at his shrug and motioned him into position. "Who would like to show Cadet Mir that not all advantages are obvious? Cadet Mil? Very well. Step forward and join your classmate. Do not begin until you hear the bell ring.
Caleb looked sheepishly at his friend before him. He was aware that you shouldn't allow size to trick you into over-confidence. He also knew that there was more to SAM than she shared, but he still grinned at her. "Don't think I'll go easy on you, SAM."
"I wouldn't dream of it." She narrowed her eyes and grinned like the Grinch. "Caleb."
Caleb's expression faded to something between confusion and concern. That little pause. What was she planning?
Suddenly, the bell rang. The room was thrown into darkness until the lights over the mat. Caleb was alone, but he could see the shifting crowds around him, whispering in their own confusion. A voice boomed out of the shadows.
"Caleb Mir!" It said, echoing dramatically. "Let's get ready."
"Ready for what?" He asked, looking for his opponent.
"Let's get ready to RUMMMMMMMMMMMMBLLLLLE!"
Led by Genesis, Darem, and Ocam, the students began to cheer, wildly.
Ocam whooped, "Let's hear it for The Light Fantastic!"