Wisps of smoke clouded the inside of my car. Coach Freddie huffed and puffed about ten cigarettes so far in the road trip. He had his feet kicked up on the dashboard with the seatbelt tucked under his arm to make it look like he had it on all the way. He was prattling on about how he coached my father to win a championship and that he also tried to get him to go where we were going. My father declined, but I agreed. I needed the money.
After making sure there were no other cars in the road, I slammed on the breaks. Tires screeched, echoing in the surrounding forest. Freddie was hurled out of his seat. His body folded over itself for a second and his forehead banged on the windshield.
“What the fuck!” Freddie said, massaging his temple and checking for blood.
“I saw a cat,” I said, looking out into the night.
“A cat? A fucking cat? Run it over for all I care!”
He adjusted himself back in the seat. This time he made sure the seat belt was fastened. I pressed on the accelerator, lining the car back in the right lane.
“What does the GPS say?”
“I haven’t talked to GP in a while, son. After he retired, we lost touch,” Freddie said, looking in the sun visor mirror for any cuts or bruises.
“GPS, old man. The G-P-S.”
“Oh.” He pulled out his android and checked Google Maps. “We’re three minutes away.”
I looked out into the maze that was the forest. Trees loomed overhead, clustered leaves blocking the moonlight. We were to meet these people in the most cliche horror movie setting, the forest. Freddie told me there was nothing to worry about. These people were “distinguished fellas,” in his words.
Coach Freddie was one of the biggest liars I knew—a pathological liar. He would lie about having waffles for breakfast when his breath smelled of bacon. He would invent a new life story to everyone he met and he somehow knew who he told what story to.
Lying about a fighting tournament with a huge cash prize would be easy for him. Yet, here I was, driving down some random backroads in a random forest with Freddie hyping himself up as the world’s greatest coach.
“…your father. One helluva man he was. Partly due to the fact I was at his side. Put any other coach by his side, Floyd Mayweather Senior or even Cus, they wouldn’t have gotten as far as I did with the boy. I tell ya,” he somehow leaned closer than he already was, “you’re just as good, if not better than your father, son. We’re gonna win that tournament and— ” He pointed at a turn up ahead as if I hadn’t seen it. “—and we’re gonna split that cash prize.”
I turned right onto a gravel road, it was lit up like an airplane landing strip. Rocks drummed beneath the tires, rumbling the whole car. The road meandered up to a hill with a mansion nestled on it. It was a modern-looking mansion with floor to ceiling windows and hidden lights making the exterior glimmer with a dreamy feel.
Next to the mansion there was a dome shaped building with its own parking lot like an arena. The parking lot was packed and had its own little parking booth.
“You didn’t tell me it was this big,” I said, my fingers fidgeting uncomfortably.
“I mean, it is a big cash prize,” he said.
We pulled beside the ticket booth. The person inside wore a pink ski mask. Their eyes were unblinking and their lips chapped to the point they looked like scales.
“H-Hey can we get a tick—”
“He’s a fighter,” Freddie cut me off.
The person nodded and pressed a button to raise the barrier. They pointed to the left where there was a sign that said ‘VIP Parking’. I thanked them and we drove past the booth to the VIP parking. I parked Freddie’s 2002 Honda Accord between two foreign cars and killed the engine.
“Look, son,” said Freddie, “when we get inside I won’t be with you. I can’t. Your fight starts in—” He looked at his watch. “—in about 20 minutes.”
“Woah, wait, why? I need to warm up with the mits.”
“They never told me why.” He pointed up at a sign in front of us which said ‘Fighters only!’ Below the sign there were stairs leading underground. “But I know better than to break rules. Especially with a cash prize this fucking big, ya hear me?”
“Yeah… Got it.”
I stepped out and walked to the stairs. Freddie waved at me with watery eyes, looking like a father who just saw his son take his first steps. Standing at the mouth of the stairs and looking down at dimly lit steps, my stomach was turning in knots. It always happened before my fights, but this was worse. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. There was no information and Freddie wouldn’t be there. Though a huge liar, Freddie was great company after my dad died.
With a shuddering sigh, I walked down the stairs. It seemed to go on for miles until I entered a brightly lit locker room. Looking around, there were a few other people in towels, minding their own business. Each locker seemed to have names of fighters. I glanced around for mine.
‘Zuri’s Locker’, I found it. I peeled off my hoodie and opened the locker. There were boxing shoes, MMA gloves, and black boxing shorts with my name in glitter words. Why MMA gloves? I thought as I threw on the gear.
After I was changed I did a few stretches to get my body loosened up. The people I saw earlier were walking like sheep to a door in the corner of the room. There was yet another sign which said, ‘Fighters Meet Here’.
I got up off the floor and went inside. Though it was dark there, I could feel the presence of others. Breathing could be heard and, after my eyes adjusted, I could see the silhouette of a crowd. Suddenly, the lights flickered on.
There was a man in the middle of the crowd, wearing a red leather jacket with spiked hair. A thick crowd of shirtless people surrounded him. They moved around impatiently, some bouncing on their heels, others cracking their knuckles.
“Good, that’s the last of y’all,” he said, waving his arms around like a conductor. “I’ll make this little chat quick, I know y’all are itching for a fight. There are thousands of spectators out there. Some of them are a long, long way from home. So, what I want you guys to do is put on a show!”
The crowd cheered. I stayed with my arms crossed, heart pounding in my chest. Thousands? I thought, That’s way too much.
“Now, the lot of y’all are monsters. Rapists, Pedophiles, Murderers, whatever the fuck else you sick fucks did. No one else will give you a chance to win one hundred thousand dollars, I guarantee y’all. I want you to fight like your life depends on it because it fucking does!”
The crowd was hesitant to cheer, but after a second, they shouted in joy. My eyes were widened because I fit in one of those categories. I was a murderer. I accidentally killed someone in the ring, but there was no way anyone could’ve known that. Anyone but… Freddie. Fuck, fuck, I thought, I knew this was wrong. I should’ve declined.
The man in the center cleared his throat and everyone went silent. “You all will be fighting at the same time in cages separated by concrete walls. The spectators will be able to see anyone of y’all, looking down at y’all like the rats you are.” He pointed at the wall behind him which had twenty or so doors, each labeled. “Go to your assigned door. The fights begin in three minutes.”
The crowd bustled to their doors. I stayed paralyzed, still processing what the hell just happened. I turned around to see the door we came from was shut. The man with the red leather jacket sauntered over to me.
“Instructions weren’t clear enough?” He said.
“Ca-Can I leave?”
He chuckled. “Leave? Oh, buddy, it’s too late for that.” He put a hand over my shoulder and forced me to walk with him. “You know, I too was once in your shoes. Trembling in fear like a pussy. But when I realized that I was up against a pedophile, all the fear vanished, replaced with anger.” He pushed me through my door. “Good luck.”
The door shut and I turned around. There was an octagon surrounded by four thick concrete walls. Inside the ring, there was a referee and my opponent. He was a chubby man with thick sausage fingers. His hairline was receding and his neck was invisible, covered with three chins.
I looked up above the walls. There were thousands of spectators watching from behind glass walls. Large screens were mounted on top, granting them a better view. Fear paralyzed me as my eyes darted around.
After a while, the referee marched up to me and dragged me inside the octagon. The chubby man in front of me smirked and raised his guard up. Relax, I thought, it’s just like any other fight, relax. I got into my fighting stance, lowering my center of gravity and keeping my body loose.
The referee called us to the center of the ring. “Anything goes. There are no rules, understood?”
“Whoa! Wait, what—”
I got cut off by the referee grabbing our gloves and touching them together. He then gave the signal for the fight to begin after moving out of the way.
Anything goes? I thought, trembling in fear.
The man marched at me with thundering footsteps that seemed to shake the arena. I bounced around him like a rabbit. It looked like he struggled to keep his hands up to his chin. His guard would be easy to break.
He threw a haymaker. I leaned back, feeling the air of the punch. It was strong. I couldn’t let that hit me.
I circled around him. He kept up the pace as best as he could, spinning like a fat ballerina. The crowd booed, chanting to see action. In that small second I was distracted, he bear-hugged me and squeezed my body like a vice grip. The air rushed out of my lungs and I struggled to breathe. The veins on my face bulged out. I could feel my skin turning purple.
I squirmed around in his grip, but it was no use. His face… His face had a child-like smirk. I thought back to what the leather-jacketed man said. This guy fell in one of those categories and it didn’t look like he landed in one by accident. My blood began to boil in my veins. After more squirming, my right arm managed to slip through his grip. I shoved two fingers into his eyes. It felt wet and disgusting, but he staggered back, letting go of me.
I fell to the ground, refilling my lungs before standing back up. The man had his hands over his eyes, screeching like a cat. I darted over to him, grabbed his fat head, and kneed him. There was a crack as my knee bashed his skull. He fell down on his back. I jumped on top of him and rained down punches. I cracked him with a hook to the side of the head and a straight cross to the nose. His bloodshot eyes watered up, arms waving frantically to intercept my punches.
I threw a cross to his face, but he managed to catch it. His hand clasped around my forearm. The grip tightened, cutting blood circulation to my hand. I let out a groan and tried pulling back, but it was no use.
The man tried to get me off of him, moving me by the arm as if I were a puppet. Before he could, I threw a hook to his third chin, using my free hand, with all the strength I could muster. His eyes rolled back momentarily. But his grip clamped down harder.
When his eyes rolled to face me, there was pure animosity. He looked like a rabid bear. He shoved me off of him. I flew back, hitting the octagon fencing. The strength was… otherworldly.
He placed a hand on his knee to get up, standing in the center of the octagon. He raised his arms to the ceiling and yelled like Goku during a power up. It looked pathetic, the way his fat body was jiggling as he yelled. Part of me wanted to laugh until I realized why his skin was jiggling.
The crowd above the octagon fell silent, their cheers now replaced by a collective gasp. I must’ve gasped as well. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. His skin… it was melting. His skin was literally melting. Layers of fat and flesh liquefied like candle wax. It dripped down onto the mat in clumped masses, sizzling on the canvas. The whole octagon smelt of roadkill that had been left in the sun for far too long. Vomit crawled up my throat, but I pushed back the urge and scrambled to my feet. This was still a fight after all.
I laid my eyes on the creature that shed this skin. Slender, scaly limbs twisted out into place with cracks. The thing stood on all fours with long limbs like a daddy-long-leg spider. Its face… Its face was a scaly skull with bare teeth exposed. I wanted nothing else but to run all the way back home to my comforting apartment.
It crawled to me, joints popping and limbs wobbling like a fawn. I just stood there, arms up guarding my chin, frozen solid with fear. The crowd let out a cheer as the monstrosity inched towards me.
Fuck it, I thought, If I’m gonna die, I might as well go out with a bang.
I darted towards it, letting out a warrior’s cry. With one of its legs, it grabbed me by the throat and hurdled me to the fence. My head slammed against the metal, making me see stars for a moment. Through a hazy vision, I saw that creature inch closer.
I shook my head, trying my best to stand. Slimy fingers wrapped around my neck. It picked me up off the ground, glaring at me as I clawed at the grip. Its smile twisted up, nearly touching his glowing green eyes. Shit, this is the part where he gives a monologue, I thought, still wriggling in his grip.
“Poor thing,” it said, sounding as if it were exhaling while talking. “There’s no hope.”
It raised me up higher, then swung me down. Air rushed past my face, tousling my hair, and drowning out the sound of the crowd. It felt as though I was on a rollercoaster, heading down to my death.
It slammed me onto the mat, my head bouncing off it like a basketball. My entire body ached. It felt as though the weight of a black hole was holding me down. The creature let go, turning around to the crowd with its arms raised as if showboating.
Son of a bitch, I thought. At that moment there was no more fear or pain in me. All I felt was anger with adrenaline adding fuel to it. I somehow scrambled to my feet, swaying back and forth unsteadily. There was an opening. Its legs were so far apart.
Mustering up all my energy, I slid in between its legs. I exploded up with an uppercut to its chin. The creature stumbled back, shaking its head as if its vision got watered up. I took the opportunity to kick one of its slimy, scaly legs. It lost balance and collapsed on the mat face down in its own shed skin. I threw a flurry of punches to its other leg and the other and the other until all of its legs were bruised.
I marched right up to its face, careful not to step in the sloshing skin, and gauged one of its eyes out. All five of my fingers wrapped around the slippery eyeball. I squeezed as tight as I could then yanked it out. The creature let out its final yelp and its body went limp. I tossed its eye into the skin pile and stumbled back, falling down on my ass and sighing with relief.
Faces in the crowd looked flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe it myself, but there was a dead creature to prove it. The crowd let out a cheer louder than any prior. Confetti drifted down onto the octagon, sticking in the flesh piles. The vomit I was holding back came rushing out.
This must’ve been a dream, I thought, glancing around. I realized the referee was nowhere in sight during the whole fight. That’s when I heard the door open. I turned around, seeing the man in a red leather jacket and the referee. They sauntered to the octagon, slow clapping.
“Congratu-fucking-lations!” The man said, “Follow me, Zuri.”
I struggled to stand up. The referee rushed over to help me on my feet. With my hand over his shoulder, we walked through the door. When the door shut, I could still hear muffled cheering. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Happy, now, aren’t we?” I heard Freddie’s voice say. I turned around seeing Freddie standing next to the leather-jacketed man. As I opened my mouth to talk, he continued. “I know, I know. I’m an asshole for not telling you what you were up against. I’ll tell ya what, son. I knew you had it in ya.”
“Fuck you,” I spat. “Fuck both of you. I’m leaving.”
“Like I said, buddy, it’s too late for that now.” He placed his palm on my chest, preventing me from going forward. “Fred here said he’s found the best human fighter in the world and, after seeing you fight, I believe him.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You-You had all of us fight monsters you sick fucks?!”
“You and one other human really fought, buddy,” said the man. “All the humans died within a few minutes. And, if you ask me, those monsters deserved it.” He nudged me and chuckled. “We need someone like you to join our inter-species Fight Club.”
Freddie looked at me with a smirk and said, “Endless money, son.”
“Money? You think I want money?” I said, disgusted. “I want my fucking life back!”
The man scratched his spiked hair. “Uhh… about that.” He looked at Freddie. “Fred sort of signed a life-time contract for a million dollars. You’re our property now, buddy.”
“I’m sorry, Zuri,” said Freddie. “We need the money.”
“Freddie, for the first time in your pathetic life, be honest with me. What do you really want?” I said.
His eyes darted back and forth. “Zuri, the money. Think about that shitty apartment we live in—”
“I’m gonna fucking lose it if you say one more lie, Freddie, I swear.”
The leather-jacketed man spoke up, “Listen, y’all, we’re all just a little riled up. Let’s cool down—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I spat.
He shoved me, I hit the concrete wall, raising my hands up into a fighting stance. “You should be thanking me for this opportunity, buddy,” he said.
When he got close enough, I threw a right cross at his face. He managed to turn, but not in time for me to graze his ear. I quickly followed it with a left hook, cracking him square in the chin. He staggered back.
Freddie put himself between us, arms extending out. “Relax, son, you proved your point.”
“What’s your point?” I demanded an answer.
He faced the floor like a sad puppy. “Glory, son,” he said. “Glory.”
Part of me knew it all along. He enjoyed being by my father’s side in his big fights, smiling at the camera and taking all the interviews he could. I had a million questions I wanted to ask. Everything he did for me, was it all for this goal? Were all the times he was a father to me fake? Did he ever genuinely care? But not a single word could come out of my mouth.
“…What about your point, buddy? I want you to start training for your next fight,” said the leather-jacketed man with a smirk. He patted my shoulder and walked away with the referee, leaving me struggling to stay upright. Freddie looked up at me with a sad little smile, then walked away himself.
The muffled cheers dwindled away. I was in complete isolation. I hopped on one leg to a nearby bench and sank down, facing the tile floor. Was I really being manipulated my entire life by a man I saw as a father figure? I shuddered at the thought.
“He’s wrong,” said a woman’s voice from above. I looked up, seeing a woman sitting on top of a row of lockers, her legs dangling and swinging. She had thick eyebrows with a radiating smile that made everything else in the world disappear for a second. She hopped down, balancing herself on the benches as she walked, and handed me a liquor bottle she held. I chugged nearly half of it, hoping my thoughts would subside.
“Wrong about what?” I asked.
“It’s not too late.” She sat down next to me, snatching the bottle from my hand and drinking.
“How so?”
“You could leave if you become the inter-species champion.”
I looked at her and burst out laughing. “We’re humans.”
“Humans with one hell of a punch.” She chuckled, drinking a swig of liquor. “Why do you think you and I won if we’re humans?” She asked.
I looked her up and down, a little surprised she won. “Because we got lucky.”
“No, it’s because we’re special.” She handed me back the liquor as if I needed to drink for what she was about to say. “Well, they’re special as well. Some, as you saw, can power up mid-fight. I’ve only heard stories about the others, but there’s still hope. What we have that most of them don’t have is intellect, strategy, adaptability, need I say more?”
I looked down at the sloshing liquor, wishing what she said wasn’t true and that I’d wake up to my fathers cooking. For a second, I saw my dad’s face in the bottle, with rippling memories of us training. I shut my eyes down hard and looked back at her.
“Wer-Were you sitting up there the whole time?” I asked, desperate to change the topic.
“Yup,” she said, helping me up off the bench. “You’re lucky he didn’t get to retaliate.”
“Yeah right, my ass,” I laughed, my entire body aching as I did so.
“Your ‘ass’ needs to get patched up,” she said. “We got a lot of training ahead of us—you especially.”