Page 16 of The Danger Kiss

The Fighter

The heavy door to the gymnasium groaned on its hinges as it opened, revealing the dimly-lit space within. The air hung thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and rust as I walked in, familiar and strangely reassuring as welcomed yet another uneventful day in the life of a lowly prizefighter.

Dilapidated punching bags swayed from frayed ropes in the dank corners, their once-bright colors stained by years of use. The walls were plastered with peeling posters of past champions, their faces a blur of faded ink and torn paper. Echoes of grunts and the thud of fists against flesh reverberated through the labyrinth of corroded iron beams and cracked concrete.

This is a place where I belonged.

Where champions rise and fall. Where dreams come out of the smoke and go to the Diesel Dome for glory…or death.

The Dome was a place where chaos and danger lurked around every corner, its very air thick with the stench of oil, sweat, and blood. It was an arena where we fought for our lives amidst the jeers and cries of a rabid crowd, each seeking to prove their worth—or simply to survive another day.

Another day.

This time it was the beginning of the annual Tournament Season, the race to the hundredth floor within a hundred days.

Somehow, I could still remember her. A wisp of a girl, a tender but distinct memory that never go of me in all these fifteen years.

Blanca was different from the others in the Dome. I first saw her when she was barely twelve years old. She was both a target and a weapon, her name and her rumored abilities creating an invisible bullseye on her back. She had eyes on her, on and off the ring.

A little girl had been the prey of so many corporations and private cells. She was a study in contrasts: a Zola in name, with one of the deadliest Manifestations in the world; a child with pale skin, trembling hands and a frail appearance, with a shock of wavy dark hair that moved about her like a cloak

My little Blanca.

Her name conjured memories of her striking violet eyes that seemed to pierce straight through to my soul. I had found her on the docks, barely alive. She had pleaded for ice cream.

For her, I would have done anything; for her, I would have faced any challenge, any enemy.

All she had to do was ask.

But she was a Zola, above anything else. On the day I was certain she was fully healed, I left her. It was a decision that filled me with longing, regret, and a gaping chasm of emptiness. These are emotions I am all too familiar, as a disgraced Spinel disciple.

I am all about a life that meant nothing, was headed nowhere. I only belonged in places where fighting skills were paramount, where the ability to draw blood held the highest esteem. It’s only a matter of time before my own blood is fully drained, and I am left with nothing.

It was something I anticipated.

Just then, a shrill chirp pierced through the cacophony of grunts and groans, tearing me from my reverie. My heart raced as I recognized the encoded signal emanating from my port - a message from Chareol, a contact and an old friend from within Asphalt City’s Round Table.

Chareol was a former fighter at Diesel Dome, from my time in the ring. He had been in no way remarkable as a combatant, but he had politicked his way into being a Steward and, now, an Administrator for the syndicate running the city.

I put the talkpiece from the communicator into my ear. “Chareol. Long time.”

“Dalek. As sweet as ever.”

“Come off it, Char. Do you have a job for me?”

There was a self-important chuckle from the other end of the line. “It’s all about work, work, work for you, isn’t it, Dalek? No wonder you’re wasting away.”

“If you’re calling to criticize my lifestyle choices, it’s not a very good time. I have trainees coming in for the day, for a change.”

“Still pinching bronze coins, are we?”

“Fuck you, Chareol.”

He laughed. Our strange friendship did not exempt him from gloating.

“I don’t have a job for you, unfortunately. But I do have news, old friend. Very interesting news, I must say.”

“If it’s about this year’s fight roster, I’m not interested in coaching anyone. You can point them in the direction of the gym but that’s about it.”

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