Ravnica 4: The Fighter

Ravnica 4: The Fighter

Enter Daniel Gruul

Gruul spent his day in a much less fun-filled environment than Johnny Boros; his school life consisted of two things: staying out of trouble and attempting to get good grades on a so-called ‘sophisticated’ system. Gruul didn’t have any respect for systems at all, as they just seemed far too structured. For some reason, he just despised things with structure. They went against his nature, it seemed, his nature being complete instinct and going with the flow. His philosophy on life was almost like Shawn Selesnya’s, with the exception being that Shawn saw everybody as the same person, and that everybody was just one piece of a whole. Selesnya didn’t see himself or anybody as anything special, whereas Gruul could see any one person being either special or the opposite of such.
In either case, Gruul had went through his classes on the first day without any real trouble, because he didn’t view the first day as a real ‘school’ day. Teachers went over their structure for the year, with their structured syllabus, with their structured system of grading. Well, at least he wasn’t part of the grade weaving just yet, and that was good enough for one day. If he could get by with Cs, he would.
After class, Gruul decided to go to the weight room next to the gymnasium to lift some weights. Probably by himself, since not many other people would be there to meet him. Johnny might show up to lift a few weights, but the chances of that seemed slim for the first day. Johnny always had things to do, things that prevented him from having a real social life. Things like Malcolm Dimir, he was told.
For three years, Daniel thought, Malcolm Dimir has made life a living hell for Johnny Boros, and by connection, himself and possibly Azorius. Daniel never really respected Johnny’s choice of girlfriend, but he respected her a little more than he respected Azorius, seeing as how he could have spontaneity while remaining in the restrictions of a school system. He wasn’t as bold as that bully of a kid, Andrew Rakdos, but he was definitely not someone who obliged the rules.
In either case, he would walk to the weight room, pick up a bold thirty pounder, and begin to lift it with one arm, back and forth. Seemed easy enough for him, and here he thought he was out of shape. He removed his gray jacket to show the green sweater he was wearing underneath, sat down, and began to lift constantly as he thought of what he would do the next day.
As much as Gruul didn’t want to admit it, the thing that drove him was his instinct and his will to fight. He had played in wrestling matches for Ravnica two years prior, and he had swept quite a few of his matches with the Rebels. There was only one problem: he didn’t really get to do what he wanted to do. He could overpower his opponents out of the ring, pin them without problem, and will his way out of holds the opponents tried to put on him, but never get any satisfaction out of doing any of those things. If he could, he would fight. He would box, or fight mixed martial arts, if he could. He already knew karate, was looking into taking muay thai, possibly jujitsu for grapples and holds. The sky was the limit for him.
This mindset left him thinking someone should teach this Malcolm Dimir kid a lesson. But nobody could find him except for Johnny, who was randomly called to Malcolm during the year. Even Gruul knew that some students debated the very existence of Malcolm on campus, since it was plausible he would be home-schooled and just show up on campus. The security was good, but a visitor’s pass was easy to come by, and especially for Malcolm, someone who (in theory) had an easy way with teachers.
Presently, Gruul noticed a small freshman working his way towards him. He was wearing the universal symbol for one of Dimir’s group: a black top with blue jeans, even though Johnny had told him that Dimir, himself, had wore blue with black jeans. His only giveaway. This wasn’t Dimir; this was a kid sent to do Dimir’s bidding. Gruul stood up to greet the kid after he released the weight he was lifting.
“What do you want, kid?” Gruul asked in his bass voice. “And hurry it up.”
The kid was scared of Gruul; this must be his induction into Dimir.
“Come with me,” the kid said, shakily.
Gruul didn’t feel that this was the kind of thing he wanted to be a part of. Dimir might have had a hold on Johnny, but Danny Gruul didn’t feel that Dimir could put any dirt on him. There was nothing he could do if Gruul didn’t want in on any game. Therefore, no reason to lack spontaneity here.
“I’ve got a message for Malcolm, kid.” Gruul took a step forward to the follower and moved effortlessly into a shove that put the freshman on his back. “Shove it up your ass.” With a flick of his wrist, he shouted. “Take a hike, kid!”
The freshman got the picture; he stood up and walked as quickly as he could out of the weight room. There was no reason to stick around for more abuse. Gruul was about to get back to working out when he saw Shawn Selesnya making his way into the weight room, seconds later, waving a little at the freshman informant as he moved out of the room. Behind Selesnya were a few other guys from his band, stoned as usual. It was after class, in either case.
Daniel sighed.
“Shawn,” he began, “what’s up?”
Shawn didn’t seem that high this time around. Sure, he had rings under his eyes, and his eyes were a little bloodshot, but he seemed to be standing up straight for once.
“I know you don’t like bull shit, Danny. I’ll keep it straight with ya.” Shawn was being serious; one of those rare times. “I think somethin’s eating Johnny boy, again. I’ll tell ya, the guy walked off with two bottles of the juice without thinkin’ twice. That means something’s gonna happen. Someone’s eatin’ Johnny boy, and that’s…that’s for real, Danny.”
Gruul was almost irritated at the simplicity of it all.
“I know that much, Shawn, come on. I know who it is, it’s that guy Dimir. Malcolm Dimir. He’s always giving him shit, all the time.”
“No, I know, but it’s vodka, Danny.” Shawn looked from side to side, slowly, then leaned closer to Gruul, who had to lean down to listen to his quiet conversation. “Look, nobody can find this guy, right? If we wanna run damage control this time, we need…an event for cash, maybe, or we need his motive, or…you know, something to get this guy’s attention. Pitch ‘em something.”
Gruul’s mind was working, just not as quickly as Shawn hoped it would.
“What kind of something?” Daniel asked, not following.
“Something funny.” Shawn began to use his hand gestures to explain. “We get you and…Andrew Rakdos in a fight. Make it exciting, right? Make it secret, charge admission, right? We keep that money just in case we need to play damage control, or maybe make a deal with Dmitry.”
“Dmitry?” Gruul got a firm grip on Shawn’s jacket. His band members noticed, but didn’t want to get any closer to Gruul for fear he might turn on them next. Surprisingly, Gruul still spoke relatively softly, and solely to Selesnya. “Do you know how stupid it is to deal with Dmitry? I’m dumb, but ain’t that dumb, Shawn.”
“Sometimes he’s your only choice.” Shawn looked down at Daniel’s grip as it weakened and released. “The question is if you want the fight. We could deal; I mean…we might be able to get a location off of this guy.”
“The fight will pose no problem.” Gruul stood up tall again, having released Shawn’s shirt. “I’ll win, though, and you’ll be sure of that. There’s an alley behind the school, close to my house, if you want. We can fight there. Tell Andrew that if he backs down, he’s a coward. And a crack whore.”
Shawn smiled and nodded, once.
“Glad y’ still got a fighting spirit, you bastard.” Selesnya reached into his pocket and brought out what looked like a nicely chilled cola and handed it over. “Here, it’s good.” With that, he just rushed off.
And so Daniel Gruul sat inside the weight lifting room. He snapped open his cola, took a sip or two, and savored the sweet taste of the sugary goodness. Dimir wasn’t picking on him, he had scared a little kid off, and he had a winning fight with Andrew Rakdos sometime soon, no holds barred. Life could be better, sure, but for Gruul it didn’t get much better than that.