Anisa Stepped out of the beating sun into what she had been told was the gym she was after but just looked like it was somebody’s house. The walls had been made of cinder blocks and painted plaster. The floor was covered with glazed tiles that were hand painted, but rested at imperfect angles and had breaks that were clearly covered with plaster to make it safe to walk on. She looked around and saw a woman her mother’s age with brushed but messy hair tinged with grey sitting at a table with a bowl of cereal. She looked directly at Anisa and smiled softly, “You must be the Nina that Raun told my darling about.” Anisa was thrown by her name being wrong, but nodded, “Excellent. Go down the hallway. It is in the second door after the bathroom.” She followed her instructions and was expecting some kind of office or bedroom at this rate only to enter an almost arena-like gymnasium. When she looked around she saw all the things she expected to see at a typical gym. Where she expected used and weathered equipment from decades past she saw somewhat new model equipment, but there was still something in the air. Something that felt antique about this place. When she looked at the boxing ring, she had expected to see someone waiting dramatically for her in its center, but it was empty. As she approached it, she heard a voice echoing through the room, “He told me that you were hesitant, Nina. Scared. Why would he tell me that?” She tried to respond but a firm shush echoed from the voice. He said firmly, “I shall see myself.” Suddenly, a figure fell into a stunt mattress that she had not yet noticed. Moments later, like he was walking down a hallway, the man stepped through. He was a little over four feet tall but his presence made him feel much larger. His intense eyes silenced her as they locked onto her own. He approached her, grabbing her chin with one oddly large hand and he turned it from side to side much to her annoyance before he nodded, “You are haunted.”
She snarked, “Haunted? Like ghosts?”
He snapped back, “Not haunted... Haughnted.” It was here that she understood what he meant. Hunted. He stated firmly, “And it is gosts, but naught real ones. Your mind is being gripped by them. You are scared.” Her mind slowly adjusted to his words and as it did, she was shaken by his accuracy. He shook his head, “That will not do. Leave.” She glared at him, about ready to yell at him when he cut her off, “You cannot get in my ring. We will fix that. Go.”
Even more confused by the mixed messaging, the woman said from the doorway, “He means come eat lunch with me while he gets things together. But I would just sit on a bench. He won’t be long. He is just rudely considerate.” Anisa was completely confused and felt out of place, but she was used to having orders barked at her by older people at this point.
Sitting down, she saw him sift through various boxes and drawers before eventually producing a piece of fabric. Rolling it in his hand for a moment, he put it back and then pulled out another one. Turning it in his hand he gave it an experimental sniff and then nodded before bringing it over to Anisa. He offered it out to her and as she took it he explained, “There is one thing that ghosts hate and that is to be ignored. It makes them furious, but one cannot fight while being hunted.” She went to put it on and he held her back before speaking firmly, “You need to KNOW what I’m telling you. Not just hear or listen. Not consider. You must know just as air is what we breathe the thing I am about to tell you or you cannot succeed.” She listened to him carefully, “When you put on this mask, you are not Nina. You are not miss Saucy. You are a warrior. A fighter. From the moment that mask comes on, there is no one and nothing but the warrior. From the first time you wear that mask to the last time you take it off, it is someone else. And everything you do wearing it will be attached to it.” She looked at the mask, hesitating for a moment before trying to hand it back. But he refused.
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She grumbled under her breath and he snapped his fingers, motioning to his ears as if to say he is deaf and for her to speak up, “I don’t want to pretend to be-”
He cut her off, “You will not be pretending. You are always you. The mask is for the ghosts. For everyone else. You are the one who gives meaning to the mask. It is nothing but a new face.” She hesitated again, remembering feeling trapped behind glass when she was taken by the parasite. Her face just another mask for the monster that had taken her on an unwilling joyride. He said firmly, “You cannot get into my ring until you wear that mask. You may use any other equipment until then.” He walked towards the ring, his height making it seem impossible for him to get in, but he simply dove under the ropes mid run. Standing up once he entered, he started to run the ropes as if testing them. He then began to do what looked like a gymnastic routine at first, but she began to realize was him testing the mat itself. Eventually she even watched in surprise as he landed on the turnbuckles from a flip and started to bounce on them to test their integrity.
As she watched she eventually asked, “Does it ever get any better?”
He spoke in a tone of absolute expertise, “At best, the ghosts will cheer you on. At the worst, they will eat you alive. They never go away.”
She stared at the blank and unadorned mask. Putting it on, she could feel a barrier form between her and the world around her. Again, she felt she was hiding behind something. When she got into the ring, she stood ready for him. Full of uncertainty. How would this even work. As she considered this, he had tackled her around the gut in a moment, grabbing her by her mask and lifting her head off the mat. “This is not a helmet! Now is out here, not in there!” She was still struggling to catch her breath from the sudden attack when he threw it back down and jumped into the air, landing a leg drop across her gut that made it harder to catch her breath. He rolled off of her, leaping into the air for an elbow drop that she rolled out of the ring to avoid. He landed hard and clearly hurt his elbow some but he sprang back to his feet quickly, “Get back here! Do you want that mask to show me a coward?!” He was crazy, but weirdly, agile. Focusing on the fight, she rolled back in and readied herself to fight him. He smiled, “That’s right. Retreat but never run. Cowards cannot win a fight. They can only be hunted.”
The man’s real name never mattered. He made that clear over and over again. His name when he wore the mask mattered less than what he did while wearing it. But he was known by the name Magnifico. Anisa trained with him for the next two years before the world changed. Before the day she saw her heroes die for the second time.
