Dr. Norra was wrapping Brinus’s hands and wrists before his first fight. Brinus was sweaty. His pupils dilated from fear. He sat on the stretching table, frozen in fear. I am so nervous. I hope I don’t get badly injured. Brinus wondered how he got to this point and regretted the fight. At least he got to release some of his aggressive energy.
He wore gym shorts and a high-dry shirt with the sponsor logo on it. The logo was a silhouette of a bird person in a navy uniform. His syndicate tattoo and addiction tattoo were visible.
Dr. Norra sensed Brinus’s anxiety. “Relax; remember what your agent said. You’re not here to win. You’re here to introduce yourself.”
Brinus leaned back and started shaking his legs. “Can I have my vape?”
Dr. Norra rolled his eyes in irritation and snapped, “You don’t need nicotine right before your fight.”
“I need my vape.” He became irritated because of how judgmental Dr. Norra was of his smoking habit.
“You can go a couple of hours without it. In the capacity of a healthcare provider, I am ordering you to abstain from it until after your fight.”
Brinus hated it when Dr. Norra pulled rank. He began biting his nails and was rocking back and forth.
A young man came into the room and approached Brinus, offering a handshake. Brinus shook it with a firm grip. “So you’re my warm-up fighter? Interesting. They gave me a criminal. I take it you robbed a bank or two.” The fighter laughed briefly as though he had told a joke.
Seriously? What the hell is your issue? Brinus thought to himself. He came up from the table. “When do we fight?”
“At nine a.m. They usually do the early and intermediate warm-up fights after lunch through mid-afternoon. The main events are at prime time. That is when the big streamers show up and live stream the events.”
Brinus grew increasingly anxious from nicotine cravings as he watched the other fighter stretch and get his hands and feet wrapped.
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Two and a half hours later, he was pacing around the room and fidgeting with his gym shorts drawstring. The other fighter approached him and slapped his back. “It’s go time.”
The other fighter ran out onto the arena, and Brinus ran after him. There was polite applause as the other fighter lifted his arms above his head. Brinus noticed only a few hundred people were in the stands, mainly stadium workers and the fighters’ families who didn’t have work. He couldn’t hear the announcer as blood rushed into his ears; his pupils dilated even more, and he could hear his heart beating, but that was it. Even Brinus’s mother couldn’t make it because, in her words, “I have a war to manage.” Brinus figured she didn’t want to see him get beat up four times. Suddenly, the bell rang, and the fight started.
Brinus dodged a punch to his face and made a jab at his opponent’s liver. His opponent brushed the punch aside. Brinus then charged at his opponent and screamed while banging his chest like a madman on a street corner. The other fighter grabbed Brinus’s wrist, knocked his foot from under him, and threw Brinus over his knee. He then stomped on his arm, breaking it. A referee came between Brinus and his opponent, declaring the fight over.
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Two and half hours after the fight, he sat in the recovery room on the bed, and four hours later, he played a game on his triquarter. A doctor sutured the back of his head. His arm was wrapped in healing bandages and a splint. He laid on top of the sheet. He had his bones knitted together with an osteoregenerative device four hours ago. The room smelled sterile, like alcohol and soap. There were four old-fashioned hospital beds and a medicine cabinet with a lock and key. A refrigerator was behind the nurse’s station. The bland tile floor was worn and dated, with white walls and a moldy particle board ceiling from the 2040s. The fluorescent lights were unpleasant, like blinding beacons of hell.
The recovery room used to be the press room. Before the collapse, the arena was refurbished from an old college basketball stadium. This campus was now a municipal complex, with most of the dorms refurbished for government housing. The rest of the campus was destroyed during the Crisis of the 21st Century, the 2028 race riots.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
A blogger who was a member of the press walked into the infirmary recovery room and spoke with security a few hours later. Brinus could see the security tag on her shirt. It said all access. She walked up to Brinus and noticed the room smelled like fresh vape juice like someone had been smoking.
“The name’s Terra. I am a writer with the netsite Sports Unlimited. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” She pulled out a recorder and began recording the conversation after flashing her press badge.
Brinus discussed the Navy and how he ended up in the service. Twenty minutes into the interview, he discussed Harper, his first boyfriend, and how he didn’t have any animosity toward the syndicate. However, Terra saw his eyes flash and his fists clench.
She smiled and said, “Are you sure you have no animosity towards the syndicate for killing your first real love?”
Brinus crossed his arms in front of his chest. He knew better than to badmouth the syndicate publicly.
She laughed and smiled. “Come on, I read your public file before coming. They murdered your boyfriend in front of you and threw you in prison for two years because you were gay. You tried to commit suicide by cop to get out of the syndicate. Surely, you do have some hostile feelings.”
Brinus remembered what Archer said about not answering questions he was uncomfortable answering. “No comment.”
She shook her head and adjusted her position. “Very well. What are some of your thoughts on the Orin syndicate?”
“No comment.” Brinus wondered why she was obsessed with the syndicate.
“Long Ho killed your boyfriend, and then was your father; what are your thoughts?”
Brinus tilted his head. “What’re we discussin' here?”
“We’re discussing you. My bad.” She smiled, showing her teeth, and said, “We can change the subject if you want to.”
Brinus nodded.
“What did you think of your first fight?”
“I honestly enjoyed it and learned a lot.” This was mostly true. He did enjoy fighting and the trash talk, but he did not get his arm broken or be deprived of his medical vape for two hours.
A nurse entered the recovery room and photographed his arm with her triquarter. “I am taking an X-ray of your arm and will check your wound on the back of your head now. Depending on what the doctor says, you will be discharged.” She removed the bandage on his head and arm and smiled. “It looks like your head healed nicely. The doctor will see you shortly.”
Terra turned off her recorder. “If you want to discuss the syndicate, you call my receptionist and set up an interview. Here’s my card.” She handed Brinus her card and left.
The doctor came into the recovery room after the nurse took her X-rays. “You can go. Your arm will be sore for a few days, and you’ll have a migraine tonight and tomorrow, but you’ll be ready to fight again on Wednesday. Due to your history of bliss addiction, I am giving you a nonopioid pain medicine. I sent my report to your agent. Since the other fighter violated the rules and illegally broke your arm, he is being charged a 100,000 credit fine and suspended from the professional league for three years. Because he’s done this repeatedly after this suspension, he’ll be on his last chance. See ya Wednesday.” The doctor winked and smiled.
Brinus put on his uniform and steel-toed boots. He then picked up some pain pills from the pharmacy and left.
0Brinus arrived at the hotel by bus an hour later. Everyone was huddled around the TV in the hotel bar. He arrived to see a high-speed chase was in progress. Five cop cars chased a stolen city car. The driver was leaning out of the driver’s side window and shooting a blaster pistol at the cops. Brinus saw the caption under the picture. It said, “O.J. Casso, a famous fighter, commits a terrible crime and is fleeing from police after his neighbor calls 911.”
Brinus was uninterested in what was on the TV. He went to his room and put his room key in the slot. He heard his agent was on his triquarter.
“... Yes, you need to cancel your contract….Yes, all of it. No, but I will refund the money that has been spent. Yes, sir. I am sorry. No, sir, it is just gone. That’s the risk we take. Unfortunately, our agency is also severing ties with him. The kind of crime committed violates his morality clause in the contract. Hey, my rookie just showed up. I’ll call you back.”
Brinus noticed Archer’s fur was dull and reddish-blue.
Brinus lay on the bed. “Well, this was painful.”
“Did you get your pain pills?”
“Yes, sir, I did. The doctor said I needed to rest.”
“It wasn’t a total washout. I would say just go back to the ship, but you still have one more fight on Thursday and one on Wednesday.”
“I spoke with a reporter named Terra. She was with the blog Sports Unlimited.”
Archer sat beside Brinus on his bed and put his arm around his shoulder. “Sports Unlimited? Interesting. They normally cover the prime-time fights.”
Brinus looked around the room. He noticed it had two queen-sized beds, a bathroom with a water-based shower, a water-based sink, and a toilet. It also had blue carpet and tile at the front of the door. Being a duke, he probably could afford much better accommodation. However, he wasn’t going to complain because he had also spent time in hoarder’s homes, been in prison, and even been homeless. This room was paradise compared to some of the places he stayed. At least it had air conditioning and running water. He smiled to himself at the comfort he could afford.
“Hey, I’m gonna go to my room to make a few phone calls. I will check on you in a few hours, and I’m sure you know why.”
“I saw a little bit of the chase. He is going to get canceled, isn’t he?”
Archer nodded. “What he did was unforgivable. If he said something naughty online, we could just make him apologize sincerely and have him disappear for several months after deleting his social media. People love remediation stories.”
“From what I understand, it involves children.”
Archer’s fur flashed bright red. “Disgusting if you ask me.” He left the hotel room.
Brinus lay on the bed and fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow on top of his sheets, in his boots and uniform.