The signal to start the fight rang out. The crowd roared like wild beasts, chanting the favorite's name.
"Rip him apart, Sanward!"
"Spill his guts out!"
"Rip his damn head off!"
The shouts varied, but most were cheering for the longtime champion of the pit. Fueled by their support, Sanward lunged at the ex-soldier. Thanks to his implants, his strikes were beyond human faster, stronger. But his opponent was no pushover; he skillfully dodged every blow.
Sanward tried to grab him, but the man ducked low, then sprang up and slammed a knee into the champion's jaw. Sanward didn't even flinch. In return, he spun and kicked the soldier, sending him sprawling to the edge of the arena. Sanward jumped high, boosted by his implants, clasped his hands together and brought them down in a crushing blow. The soldier rolled aside just in time the ground cracked where he'd just been. A quick jab to Sanward's torso barely fazed him. All that chrome let him shrug off weak hits like that.
Agility was the only thing keeping Victor in the fight. A sweep knocked Sanward off balance, followed by a flurry of strikes to the torso, probing for a weak spot but none showed. The counterattack came fast and brutal. An elbow caught Victor in the temple, throwing him off. A quick grab and suddenly, Sanward had him by the throat. No more dodging. Victor was trapped. The champion's powerful grip gave him no way out. His other hand started pounding away, each hit turning Victor's face into a bloody mess.
The outcome seemed inevitable. The fool who challenged the champ would be forgotten soon. But then, along Victor's spine, a blue light flickered to life. His limp arm suddenly shot up and caught the next punch. Muscles bulged, veins pulsed beneath the skin. Sanward tried to pull his hand free, but couldn't.
Unknown implant activation.
Slowly, Victor pried the champion's fingers off his neck, holding both arms tight. He struck with a brutal kick Sanward's metal-plated leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Another snap his other arm broke.
Then Victor vanished gone in the blink of an eye only to reappear behind Sanward. A blow to the head. Vanish. Reappear. He was moving so fast, my eyes couldn't track him. It wasn't human. It wasn't natural. It shouldn't be possible but it was happening.
The beating ended with a punch to the chest Victor's hand pierced through flesh like a stake, ripping out the heart. The champion of the arena collapsed.
"Well damn, nobody saw that coming! Sanward is dead long live the new champion, the deadly Victor!" the announcer yelled.
Victor stood there with blood-soaked hands, staring at the ground. His head twitched, limbs trembling. Huh. Side effects from the implant no power like that comes without a price. He reached behind his back and pulled out an inhaler. After a few deep hits, he turned and walked off.
My scanner quickly identified the substance: a stabilizer for high-implant users suppresses neural overload and helps delay cyberpsychosis. Looks like the guy's not doing so hot.
The list of suspects was now down to ten, but I still couldn't confirm which one he was. Time to see if I could get into these fights myself. If I build a name here, maybe some important people will notice and that's when the real info starts flowing.
I found the guy taking registrations a Valentino in a leather jacket, stylish pants, and a cowboy hat.
"I'm here to sign up," I said.
"Amigo, borgs don't usually show up around here. Lookin' to loosen up those knuckles?" Diego smirked. "You last two minutes, you get 500 eddies. You win without dyin', it's a thousand. Win five times and you fight the champions for that, ten thousand's on the line."
"I accept," I said.
"Alright, name?"
"Sleuth," I replied.
"Sure, why not," he shrugged.
I didn't want to take unnecessary risks. I'd win five matches carefully, then play it by ear. If I couldn't dig up anything on the top brass, I'd try another route. These champions were too unpredictable just look at that brute and the ex-soldier. Even as a robot, I couldn't guarantee a win. But fights were a fast way to get noticed. Big crowds. The kind of people I needed watching would be watching.
I kept studying the fighters analyzing their tactics, implants, skill levels. My odds looked decent.
It took nearly an hour before they finally called my name. My opponent was a member of some small-time street gang. He only had a few implants his chest skin replaced with reinforced synthetic armor, cybernetic arms from the elbows down, and a few enhancements for strength. One neural chip at the base of his neck boosted reflexes for faster reactions.
"Let the fight begin!" the announcer yelled.
Using his implants, he dashed in with precision, closing the gap instantly. A right hook slammed into my block, the impact softened. At the same time, my own hand slipped past his guard and cracked him across the face. My mechanical frame let me shift motion axes instantly. What followed was a beatdown. He couldn't keep up. I focused on knocking him out fast, aiming for weak points to trigger unconsciousness. A clean strike to his unarmored side made him clutch his ribs then he dropped like a sack of bricks.
My victory was announced immediately. Someone from the organization approached and handed me a shard with 1,000 eddies. A solid first match. I was given a short break while the next fight took place then they called my name again.
My next opponent was a massive bruiser, packed with muscle and reinforced with implants. One glance was enough I couldn't afford to take a direct hit. A quick scan confirmed it: his physical strength could crush my armor like paper.
Relying on speed, I closed the distance fast and started circling him, landing hit after hit. He was slow, but each swing tore through the air with terrifying force. One mistake and I made it. He caught me. His powerful arms wrapped around me, and he started to squeeze.
Structural damage: 5%.
The red warning flashed he could crush me into scrap. One arm was still free. I jabbed my fingers into his eyes and started to push.
"AAGHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed in pain, his grip loosening. Clutching his face, he was wide open. I leapt up and came down hard, heel-first into his skull, knocking him out cold.
I stepped off the platform and waited.
"Not bad," Diego said, walking up to me.
"Thanks," I replied.
"Look, no offense but you're too damn strong for the rookie league. We can't keep throwing amateurs at you. Here's your thousand eddies. You ready to face the champions?" he asked.
"I am. But I've got conditions," I said.
"Ten thousand's already a fat payday. You're good, sure but don't expect more unless you seriously impress," Diego warned.
"I'm not asking for more. Instead of eddies, I want a meeting," I said.
"Ah, got it. Can't promise anything, but I'll let the man know you want a word. If he agrees, you get your meeting. If not tough luck. Deal?" he offered.
"You didn't even ask who I want to meet. I'm looking to go solo. I'm not interested in bottom-feeder gigs. I want high-value contracts," I said, playing the part of a merc too proud to start small chasing profit, not fame.
"I figured as much. So, we have a deal?" he asked, extending his hand.
"Deal," I said, shaking it.
"Good. Then get ready. This next fight's not gonna be easy," Diego said.
Still, I had no choice. If I wanted what I came for, I had to take risks. I thought about it for a while what exactly was I risking? My life? Hardly. I already died. And this? This isn't really living. I have nothing left. No one waiting for me. Maybe it's time to stop looking back and start moving.
I used to be just a guy. I feared pain. Feared death. Now? My emotions feel... muffled. I no longer feel the instincts that protect and hold people back. Pushing those thoughts aside, I focused on analyzing the champions. I had already observed most of them.
Half an hour passed before my name was called.
"Ladies and gents, tonight's full of surprises! I've never seen anything like this two rookies facing off in a deathmatch! On one side, Victor the blood-soaked warrior! A fearless berserker, savage and relentless! On the other, Sleuth don't laugh at the name, folks, he's torn through his opponents like paper! Let's see who comes out on top!"
Well, that wasn't part of the plan.
I was supposed to face someone else. Victor's implants clearly outclassed mine. The thing is, he can't use them freely they have a cooldown period. That means I've only got two options: either take him out before he activates them, or survive until they burn out.
Easier said than done. Odds are, he'll rip me apart first.
Name: Viktor Smolov
Age: 35
Occupation: None (Discharged military, NUSA Army)
Criminal Record: Armed conflict, extreme brutality, war crimes
Marital Status: Single
Recommendation: Do Not Engage
I ran a scan on his implants but the data feed glitched out, spiking with interference and crashing the analysis.
Anti-scan shielding? Most likely. He must've noticed I was scanning him judging by that look he gave me and locked it down. My mistake. Guess I'll have to play this one on instinct.
"You should surrender. I don't want to... hurt you," he said, his words strained and uneven. His hand kept twitching. One look at him and I recognized the signs. Classic PTSD. He'd been through hell. Maybe he did something in the war he couldn't live with. Now it haunted him awake or asleep.
"I don't want to hurt you either," I said. "But I'm not backing down."
"Then you've only got yourself to blame," he muttered through gritted teeth. His gaze turned cold, violent. That mood swing wasn't random his mind was fractured. The moment he stopped talking, he charged.
Bruises and cuts from past fights still covered his body. I focused on the weak spots I had to end this fast.
I caught his jabs with a forearm block, ducked the next combo, and landed a couple of hits to his chest. He didn't even flinch. Kept coming at me like he couldn't feel a damn thing. Probably on some kind of combat stim. I've read about them numbs pain, slows bleeding, floods the system with adrenaline.
He got faster. His blows rained down on me like a hailstorm. I tried to absorb what I could trusting my armor to hold but each punch left a dent. My own strikes tore his skin, added fresh bruises and scrapes. But the guy was a berserker unstoppable, like pain didn't even register.
Only one option left: choke him out. Cut the oxygen to his brain either he goes down, or I die trying. I had to create an opening.
I let him land a few more hits, then tackled him to the ground with the full weight of my body. Before he could react, I locked in a chokehold. He grabbed my arms, trying to pry them off, but he didn't have the strength. Come on he should be out by now.
Unidentified implant activity detected.
A familiar blue spark flared along his spine and suddenly, he wasn't under me anymore. He was above me, and his boot was coming down on my head.
My vision cracked like shattered glass.
Optical module damage: 30%.
I tried to get up but another blow slammed me back down, embedding me into the concrete. Before I could react, he hoisted me up and threw me again. I rolled, managed to regain my footing just in time to catch a fist to the face.
Armor integrity: 34%.
Optical module damage: 68%.
Everything went dark. Vision flickered like a dying screen. I could barely make out shapes. If this kept up, he was going to tear me apart.
I had to buy time.
The rules said no weapons. But a shocker? Not exactly a weapon. My hand snapped open, exposing the electrodes. I managed to grab his arm just long enough to deliver a high-voltage jolt. It slowed him. One more surge. I shocked him again.
For a moment, I thought it worked.
Then he vanished.
The shocker was ripped from my arm torn out at the root.
I swung, hit nothing but air.
Then his fist punched through my armor right where my gut used to be.
Critical damage: 56%.
Recommendation: Repair immediately.
Power drain doubled.
I thought that was it. He was going to finish me.
But he froze.
Started coughing blood. Then came the bleeding from his eyes. His limbs convulsed, twitching violently. And then he collapsed.
"WHAT a fight, folks! Who could've predicted that? Luck is on Sleuth's side he takes the win!" the announcer screamed.
Luck, huh? Maybe. But I was hanging by a thread. I checked the gaping hole in my chest torn metal, sparking circuits. No way I'd survive another round like that. If I kept pushing this hard, I'd just end up dead. Again. Not that I wasn't used to it.
A couple of medtechs came to drag Viktor away. Blood trailed behind his limp body.
I watched until Diego stepped in front of me.
"Come on. Someone wants to meet you," he said.
I followed, patching up the damage with a repair kit as I walked. It wasn't much just sealed the breach temporarily. My vision was still flickering, barely holding together.
We stopped in front of a parked car. A couple of armed guards stood watch.
The door opened.
An old man stepped out.
A heavy gold cross hung around his neck, glowing against the tattoos covering his arms.
Name: Sebastián Ibarra
Age: 67
Occupation: Priest (Padre)
Criminal Record: None
Marital Status: Unknown
Recommendation: Do Not Engage
[image]
One of the unknowns. No real data on him. And yet, he doesn't even try to hide just walks around in plain sight like it's nothing.
"I saw your fight. Not bad," he said. "Got a name?"
"Just a sleuth. No names," I replied. "I just want to go solo."
"Just want to go solo?" He chuckled. "Funny. I've seen how that usually ends. One guy's solo career lasted two minutes took his first job, told one lie too many, and got a bullet in the head for it." His tone shifted, eyes locked on mine there was a message buried in those words.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said carefully. Did they already dig something up on me?
"I'll take your word for now," Sebastián said. "Here's my contact. You'll get a trial job soon something to test your skills. Complete it, and you work with me. Fail... and don't bother looking for me again."
With that, he got back into the car.
I stared at the contact info, weighing my options. Maybe he had found something, and this job was just a way to get rid of me send me on a death run. But if that were true, I wouldn't have made it out of that parking lot. Too many armed men around. One word from him, and I'd be full of holes. No he suspects something, but he's not sure yet. Or maybe… he's just bluffing like a pro.
Guys like him are the worst you never know what they're thinking, and they never show their cards. Always two steps ahead.
Still I got what I wanted. Found a fixer. Not the cleanest way, but it worked.
"Hey, here's your ten thousand. Padre said you earned it," Diego said, handing me a shard before walking off without another word.
Twelve grand total. Not bad at all.
Time to find a ripper and patch myself up.