The concrete room containing the cage for the night’s fight pulsed with energy. The walls throbbed in rhythm to the screams of the crowd. People climbed the cage walls from outside the ring, clutching the metal links with their hands just to see over the heads of people in front of them. It was the last fight of the night and the largest crowd Chance had ever seen crammed into the basement room. Garvan had even set up platforms along the walls at the back to allow spectators to stand up higher, looking down into the ring where the fight would take place.

Chance stood in the center of it all, shirtless with his heart racing. He was the first to enter the ring and the screams greeting him were deafening. He raised his hands in the air, circling so everyone could get a good view of him.

Veteran fighters and fans knew his reputation, some had even seen him in the ring before. They were the ones making the sure bets. Chance had never lost a fight, not one since he started. At first, he’d come here to take out his self-hate and anger after Rayanne’s death on someone else, but after he’d accidentally killed another cyborg in the ring, Garvan covered it up for him. And recruited him to use his temper to make some high value credits.

It was the young bloods, the new fighters, and spectators, the ones who were still hungry for violence whose screams chilled his soul. Someone chanted ‘killer,’ and soon it was all he could hear.

But he knew the game. Half the fight was won by having the crowd on his side. The audience often chose the winner long before punches were thrown. His performance wasn’t just about knocking someone out. It was about winning the crowd, so they didn’t just forgive him, but cheered when he took his opponent’s life. They had to see him kill and love him for it.

4AM and the bloodlust was strong. The mat had been cleaned by the vacubots, but Chance’s feet still squelched in spots where blood and oil had soaked into the fabric.

When the referee stepped into the ring, Chance retreated to his corner. He grabbed his hand wrap from the floor and mechanically began winding it around the wrist and knuckles of his human hand. The cybernetics on his left side were strong enough that any reinforcement he added would be useless.

He took a swig of water and bounced on his toes. He warmed up, throwing shadow punches and trying to block everything out of his mind. Every now and then though a break in the crowd would part like Moses and the Red Sea, and he could see Verity sitting at the bar, Hollywood next to her. Was the kid there to protect his friend’s woman, or his employer’s investment?

Verity looked completely out of her element, shoulders hunched up to her ears, knees locked together, as she sat on the high stool staring at him with worry in her eyes. Even so, she was beautiful. So perfectly made for him, body and soul. And now she had to watch him do the one thing he wished she never had to know about.

The referee raised his hands and the room quieted. The low hum of excitement still buzzed in Chance’s ear. He punched at the air, as the referee explained the rules before announcing his opponent. Up until then, Chance had expected Jabbar. But when the referee called out Markus’ name, his head snapped toward the cage door.

Markus walked into the ring like a bull ready to charge with puffs of fire coming from his nose. The man had a family, a daughter, and had won every fight he’d ever entered. The only real contender in the circuit who had a shot at taking him down.

Chance’s eyes shot towards Garvan who had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. This wasn’t a hit on Jabbar. It was a hit on Chance.

Markus had a reputation for going hard and fast as soon as the bell rang. He didn’t leave any time to warm up the crowd or feel out his opponent. He came in throwing punches like his life depended on it.

Markus came to the center and raised both his human and cybernetic hands in front of him. The referee called Chance forward, and the two cyborgs knocked knuckles before retreating to their corners.

Markus didn’t even look like he recognized Chance. The man probably blocked out all sound, all sense, all thought. It was a smart way to fight, especially when the stakes were so high. If he was smart, Chance would follow his example. But his eyes kept shooting toward Verity and a sinking sense of dread settled into his stomach.

He’d agreed to fight Jabbar. Someone he barely knew and who everything he’d ever heard led him to believe was a real son-of-a-bitch. A woman beater, a thug, a drunk. But Markus was another story. Could he do this to someone he’d known for years? Could he kill someone he considered a good man? They were all here for the same reason, desperation, debt, and credits. Some cyborgs fought out of lack of options, some for the thrill and short-term high that came with the adrenaline rush of being in the ring. But at the end of the day, they were all trying to scrape together a little bit of a life for themselves. Could he take that away from Markus?

If it was just his life on the line, he’d lay down his neck and let Markus take him out with one solid snap. What the fuck was his life worth anyway? But now he had Verity to think of.

When the referee left the ring, Chance’s mind went blank. Instinct kicked in, and as he bounced from foot to foot, his fists came up ready to strike like a coiled viper.

A shrill bell rang overhead, and Markus came in swinging. Just as predicted.

Chance got in a few solid counter punches and showy kicks to keep the crowd entertained, but he mostly coasted and watched how Markus moved. He let the other man get in a few hits for show, then SNAP landed a kick square in the man’s chest sending him back a few feet.

Markus charged again and his wrapped knuckles connected with Chance’s jaw just hard enough he could make a show of spitting blood into the crowd.

They screamed in revulsion and glee.

He held both hands in the air and turned his back on Markus. A calculated move. It would piss him off for sure, and with an opponent so much larger, Chance could easily out maneuver him. At Markus’ size it didn’t always matter how good of a fighter he was, he’d never catch Chance.

The larger cyborg growled and rushed forward, intending to body slam him against the wall of the cage.

The crowd roared as Chance ducked, dancing out of the way. His smaller frame and lightning feet making it an easy dodge.

He danced around Markus for a few more minutes, and soon saw the man start to flag. All that muscle took a lot of fuel, easy to wear down. Underground circuit fights didn’t have timed rounds, just one long bout until someone hit the ground and tapped out. None-the-less, Markus came in with a takedown that landed Chance flat on his back. He rained powerful punches down on Chance’s face, and all he could do was hold his forearms up and hope his metal appendage took the brunt of the damage.

Chance wrapped his legs around Markus, slamming an elbow into the man’s ribs to catch him off guard, and flipped them on to their side. He sprang free, pulling out from beneath the goliath’s weight enough to scramble away and back to his feet.

When Markus stood, Chance came in like a wrecking ball. He threw his fists so fast even he couldn’t tell whether it was knuckles or titanium that drew blood from the other man’s nose.

Markus blocked one punch only to be unprepared as Chance threw his weight and came around with a hard kick to the hip. Markus shifted off balance, and Chance followed up continuing to pound fast, hard punches into the man’s face.

Markus limped to the left.

Chance swept a kick at his feet and slammed his elbow into the joint of Markus’ plesh. His cybernetics cracked and sparked as the larger cyborg fell to the ground, letting off a plume of dust and God only knew what from the mat below them.

The referee screamed into the microphone he held just outside the cage door, counting down from five.

Chance kept his eyes on Markus though. The man wasn’t going to give up that quickly. Even if this was all about the credits, he’d seen him fight enough times to know he had more in him than he’d shown yet.

Groaning, Markus curled onto his side and lifted onto his hands and knees.

If Chance were smart, he’d kick him in the gut or face and finish this now. But he just couldn’t make himself take the final shot.

The referee slowed his count painfully extending the time Markus had to try to stand.

When Markus finally pulled to his feet, the two men caught each other’s eyes. Markus didn’t seem to even recognize him. Chance wondered if he was drugged or just that hell-bent on winning. Sometimes that’s what a fighter had to do to get through the night. Separate the self from the violence.

Markus shifted his weight and lunged forward in attack.

Chance dropped into a crouch, so the incoming punch swished over his head. Then he shot upward and jabbed his cybernetic fist up into the man’s gut. Chance pulled back quickly, as Markus’ head dropped forward and then jerked his knee up into the man’s face. He grabbed the cybernetic arm hanging at Markus’ side, twisting it and wrenching it from the plesh cover and joint connecting it to his body.

Markus screamed as the nerve sensors severed.

The crowd roared, seeing a cyborg have his arm ripped off was exactly the kind of brute violence they had come here for, and Chance intended to give them one fuck of a show.

He took the cybernetic arm and gripped it like a baseball bat, swinging the exposed shoulder joints and gears directly into Markus’ face. Skin ripped from the man’s cheek, but Markus didn’t have a cybernetic face implant, not even a titanium mandible. So as the flesh ripped so did the muscle and bone beneath.

Markus spit teeth on the ground and the crowd rushed forward arms reaching through the metal holes to try and grab one, a macabre souvenir from the bloody sport.

Still Markus remained on his feet. He swayed, and if Chance took another swing at him, he would certainly go down. But would it be enough to satisfy Garvan? Chance looked around the cage and spotted Enver standing at the side farthest from the door, his slimmer frame hidden behind the exuberant crowd up front.

Chance moved his way around Markus and swung his body into a roundhouse kick throwing Markus directly against the cage wall.

Enver moved so fast Chance wasn’t sure he’d been able to inject the suspended nanites they’d arranged to use to revive Jabbar after the fight. But he couldn’t put it off any longer.

He came forward, and before Markus could let out a groan or the referee begin counting, he lifted him by the neck using his cybernetic hand and jerked it to the side, leaving Markus’ heavy body dangling limp from his hold.

Chance dropped the no longer breathing Markus to the mat and raised his hands dancing in a circle, as the crowd cheered, throwing bottles of beer at the cage. Glass smashed, and fights broke out among the spectators as bets were collected. Some of the crowd booed, and when Chance looked to see Garvan’s reaction, the man was nowhere to be found.