Another day, another fight.

I walked into the bar with Willem at my side. It was a medium size space. A large sign above the door said “Rudy’s bar and grill!” in rainbow colored letters, but we knew better than to believe this was just a regular queer bar in Amsterdam.

Rudy hosted cage fights in his basement.

The interior was quite… how should I put it? Flamboyant, would be a way to describe it. There were purple neon lights on the walls and ceiling, dousing the place in a violet aura. Several rainbow flags hung on the walls.

If they wanted to hide the fighting, they sure did a great job.

Willem spoke to Rudy as I looked around the bar. I saw same sex couples – both male and female – going on dates. They were dressed like normal people, not flamboyant like the bar was. Most dressed in formal suits and dresses. I looked over to Rudy who stood behind the bar. He was a short and slightly set man with dyed pink hair and thick rimmed glasses.

A funky song about queer empowerment played in the background. I had to admit it was quite catchy. The entire presentation made me – as a straight man – feel welcomed.

This would have been impossible in the culture I grew up in. Everyone here would be sent to conversion therapy. I remember seeing a public stoning when I was a teenager. I might have been younger than Hans back then. They tied a man up to a tree. They started with just a few rocks, but when the tied up man screamed, they showered him. After a lot of crunching, there was not much left of his face. It was just a big gory, bony mess. Later I heard his own family did it to him for being homosexual.

Weirdly enough that wasn’t the most disturbing thing I have ever seen, but it was a nice taste of what was to crash into me down the road.

“Nazril is a great fighter. You should’ve seen how he beat that Pole.” Willem boasted to Rudy. He crossed his arms and listened to my godson.

“Ah, I heard of Mr. Fabri.” He scratched his chin and briefly stared at me.

“Georgia’s been raving about you. Follow me.” He said and he called another flamboyant bartender to take over for him. I followed them and stepped behind the bar. Rudy opened a door leading to a storage room for the kitchen. There he opened a large hidden folding door on the floor. It opened and I got greeted by a tall staircase leading to a deep basement.

“Wow. That is not hidden well at all. What if someone raids the place?”

“Then we sue them for targeting gays,” Rudy said sarcastically. “But really, Nazril. The police doesn’t raid gay bars. They never suspect us of anything, except if there is concrete proof of underage people entering or something like that.”

“Heh, you don’t do that, right?” Willem said.

“Of course not.” Rudy walked down. We followed behind him. The stairs were illuminated by lamps on both walls beside us. We could hear people talking louder and louder the deeper down we went. There was a large steel door with a padlock. Rudy inserted the combination and opened it. It creaked.

The light blinded me, I raised my hand above my eyes. My eyes adjusted to the bright lights and I saw an octagon shaped cage in the middle of the room. It looked very professional, probably used for fights but got too old to continue functioning in professional bouts. The bright lights came from three huge construction lamps illuminating the area. A group of colorful individuals grouped around the cage. Both male female, and probably whatever was in between those two nowadays.

One stood out in particular; a tall person with shoulder length straw colored hair. She wore makeup and may have looked feminine if it wasn’t for her length and muscles. She towered above me. She was dressed in a tactical vest. The vest was black, but thick pieces of dye were slapped onto the chest, creating a rainbow. It looked messy, but it was clear to see what the militant stood for. Another flag was painted on her back, but it was a different flag. I didn’t recognize it, you’d be surprised how much flags not representing nations mean to youngsters these days. Blue, pink, white, pink, and blue again was pasted on her back.

I had never seen it in my life.

She turned her head at me and rasped her throat, it made a rough noise. Then a feminine voice greeted me. “Nazril!” She said amusingly. “I have heard so many great things about you. My name is Georgia, I run this place.” She said in a thick southern state accent.

We shook hands. “Nice to meet you… ma’am?”

“An outsider calling me ma’am, that is a first.” She smiled.

“It’s always a gamble saying something like that in a place like this,” I said honestly. “I see your makeup and hairstyle and just assume you’re female, or are you one of those ‘in between’ types? You don’t exactly dress feminine.”

She got flustered, covering her face. “No, I am a girl,” She said happily. “I love dresses but alas, they don’t look good on this God given hunk body.” She turned her body around to show her masculine physique.

Georgia was taller than me and looked like she belonged in some sort of anarchist or socialist militia. I believed she could take me down. I could see the patches and buttons on her vest – they had texts like “Boycott the USA!” and “Smash fascists!”. Every button had exclamation marks and screamed in capitalization.

“You don’t sound like you’re from here.” I said while reading out the texts on the buttons and patches. I grinned when I saw the “FUCK JAPAN!” button she had.

“No, I’m an American refugee. I went here because where I live it is not safe for people like me. I’m sure you heard the rumors. I was not born a woman. I was actually raised as a farm boy.”

I looked closer at her face. Yeah she had a sharp jawline for a woman and a flat chest, Her hair looked the most girly out of her entire body. “Doesn’t matter to me.” I said.

She shot me a soft smile. “The American government sure cares. We get brainwashed in re-education camps because it’s the will of God and such. I came here on a shitty propeller plane to get away. The resistance in Kentucky arranged it for me-”

“Resistance?” I blurted out. America is a big place, with plenty of people, but they kept silent on almost everything. This was some juicy information.

“Yeah there is a huge resistance all across the land, but the government is cracking down on them hard. They took over California though. Frankly, it gives me hope for a better America one day,”

“Hhmp,” I mouthed. It was better not to pry her about the shit she had seen even further. “I love the outfit by the way, especially that fuck Japan sticker. I’m Indonesian so you have my respect.”

“Hell yeah,” She grabbed her phone. “I could give you my number, we’d love to have you come back for more fights.”

“Why not?” I said. She showed me her number and I typed it in my own phone. “Now where is my opponent?” I asked.

She pointed towards the octagon. There was a short, yet muscular girl in there punching the air. She had short brown hair and wore a blue sports bra. Willem looked at her as well.

He grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me to the side. “Naz, you get along weirdly well with these queer folks. I thought you didn’t swing like that.”

“I don’t.”

“I just thought you were all about that perfect family thing.”

“You were a teenager then Willem, that was fifty years back. I found out a perfect family doesn’t exist anymore. Not in these fucked up times,” I stared at the girl in the cage. “So fucked up that I need to fight a girl.”

“She gives you permission, just pretend she’s is a man.”

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“I can’t beat a woman, that is morally unjust.”

“According to my father you ripped your way through mobsters, neo nazis, punk rockers, and Japanese soldiers. What is fighting a girl, then?”

“I didn’t have a natural advantage over the men I killed.”

He peeked at my opponent’s muscular frame. “Doesn’t look like she cares.”

“It still feels wrong.”

Willem smirked. “Nazril Fabri, so chivalrous, yet single since 1956.”

“Shut up, brat.” I spat.

“Calling your sixty-two year old godson a brat?”

“Fellers, stop,” Georgia called out to us. “People are waiting on you.”

I patted my godson on his shoulder and gave him a fist bump. I then took off my shirt, I saw Georgia staring, she gave me a wink that I certainly noticed.

Now I’m not into giant masculine bodies, but I appreciated the admiration nonetheless.

I smiled at her and showed off my physique. She waved me away with her hand while blushing.

“Okay Nazril they’ll make fun of you for this” Willem said, grabbing my arm.

“Who is? Nothing wrong with showing off a bit.” I snickered. “I just like the attention.” I stopped fooling around and stepped into the cage. A large man closed it for me.

“Making me fight a girl? This may be some scheme just so they can tear me down for beating women.” I said to my opponent from across the ring.

The smaller girl looked at me with one eye. “Oh, Nazril. I saw your fight against that Polish Viking guy. Are you always so sexist against female opponents?”

I grinned at her. “Well, I’m not telling you to go back to the kitchen or anything.”

“Still, you don’t treat me as an equal.”

“They made divisions based on sex for a reason.”

“Yes, but this isn’t official. Try your best. I will allow it.”

Just put her in a submission and wait for her to tap for minimum damage. I thought. I felt bad about hurting her. She was smaller and lighter than me, but those arms looked like they packed a punch. She had a light tan from the sun, the kind I would never be able to get.

“What is your name?”

“Arson.” That was probably not her real name.

“You’re going to light me on fire?”

“Nah,” She said. “Would be too easy. Good old fisticuffs should do it.”

“You’re a quirky little girl, I’ll give you that.”

The referee entered the cage as well. He actually had on a white and black striped shirt. That didn’t mean there were actual rules this time around.

He went through the usual “are you ready?” talk and asked us to bump hands. We did and I took a good look at Arson’s face. She had a fiery look in her eyes. She wanted to beat me and prove herself. We went to our corners, eyes still locked on each other.

The ref chopped down in the air and yelled, “Fight.”

I took up a fighting stance and the crowd started cheering on Arson. They never cheered for me, I had a hard time generating a fanbase.

I wanted to take it easy, try her out first, see how she moves. She did not want to do that with me. Her small frame shot towards me and a few feet in front of me jumped. She smacked her right foot onto the left side of my chest. I barely had enough time to flex my chest muscles to muffle a bit of the blow. My back knocked against the cage and I bounced back. The skin of my chest burned and had the small print of a foot on it.

Jesus, she did pack a punch. I rubbed the print on my chest and regained my footing. I coughed, my lung did not like the hit it took. I coughed briefly, then raised my hands again.

I walked up to her with raised hands covering my face and my elbows protecting my chest. I bobbed and weaved while she threw small jabs at me. I waited for an opening to try something nasty. I got close enough and I bent through my knees. I grabbed Arson’s ankles and yanked them from underneath her.

She was light as a feather.

She yelped and fell onto her back. She rolled back and got onto her feet. She smirked at me and threw a kick to my thigh. I raised my knee to block it, but the kick never hit me there. She pulled the leg back during the kick and snapped it against my side instead.

Classic question mark kick, right on my liver. I gasped and tried to remain on my feet, it was hard because she now took shots to my face too. I felt my eyebrow split open. The urge to heal started, but I had to resist.

It felt like holding my pee. Weird, I know.

I looked down at the top of her head and realized I had the perfect opening. I raised my arms and slammed my pointy elbow onto her head.

Remember what I said about them being hammers? Yeah, she noticed it. Her hands went to her head and she screamed briefly. I jumped back and my hand went to my liver. Arson sneered at me while holding her head. That was going to leave a nasty bump on her head.

My liver swelled up and I struggled to breathe for around twenty seconds, but I kept my eyes on Arson at all times.

Inhale through nose, exhale through mouth. I did what my mind told me.

The pain faded and I felt a huge relief. In the moments we stood in silence, the audience died down too. I saw Georgia behind Arson. She raised her fist and cheered Arson on. “Come on, you can beat him!” She yelled.

Then I skipped forward a few paces and closed in on Arson. That little bitch would pay for what happened to my liver. I jumped towards her with my knee aimed at her face. She dodged it and my knee bashed against the cage. The wire bounced it back and I stumbled off balance. That is when Arson struck. She hit me with a flurry of fast punches to the side of my torso and directly to my abdomen.

Both of us were drenched in sweat by now, her muscles glistened and stood out even more now. Mine probably did too. Blood dripped onto my chest from the cut above my eyebrow. Some of her punches slipped off my wet stomach.

I managed to grasp the smaller fighter by the throat when she took a small break from the flurry. I gave a hard headbutt to her nose. I heard it crunch against my stubborn forehead. She let out a high pitched yelp and stepped back. She felt her nose and looked at the blood staining her fingers. She wiped her fingers against her blue sports bra, staining it with a deep red. The amount of blood shook me to my core. A little girl like that shouldn’t have that much blood.

I had just hurt a girl badly, and I felt bad about it.

“Fuck.” She muttered under her breath.

“Are you okay?” I quivered. The blood wouldn’t stop pouring from her nose.

“Shut up, this is like Tuesday for me.” She said, She licked blood from her upper lip.

The floor around Arson endured a blood rain.

I briefly looked into the crowd. I saw Willem yelling at me, the sound drowned out in the rest of the crowds cheering. I saw Georgia and she met my gaze. She smiled and gave me a thumbs up.

Then Arson went for my leg.

She grabbed my shin and threw herself behind me, my leg went with her and I face planted against the mat with a large thud. I barely had time to recover from the hit my face took before I felt a tenuous pain in my ankle. I looked back and Arson wrapped her legs around my shin, she pushed my ankle against her knee. I tried wiggling my leg out of it, but it was helpless.

“Tap out!” She yelled at me.

I had no such plans. I used my other leg to kick at her, but I could not find the right angle. When she noticed I was not planning on tapping out she frowned and applied more pressure. I let out a loud shriek as my ankle felt like burning up.

Then it snapped. A piece of broken sharp bone tore its way through the skin, a loud crunch was audible. My sight went white with pain and the referee hauled Arson off me.

“Fucking Idiot!” Arson screamed. “Let’s hear if being crippled for the next few weeks is worth your pride next time you return?” She said before raising her arms and letting out a loud battlecry. If only she knew I could heal the bone right up and hunt her down tomorrow. I would never do that of course, that would be evil. I am not like that vampire who tried to kill Hans.

Arson got humbled by the crowd with open arms. She was handed a towel to dry her nose. I lay back, the throbbing pain stung my ankle. The urge to heal myself became really strong, but I had to resist, these people couldn’t see me heal.

I was put on a stretcher by people I couldn’t see. “No, I'll take him.” Willem said. He picked me up and I leaned on his shoulder. He hauled me to the elevator. Oh yeah, there was an elevator here leading to another building. Going all the way up those steps with a broken leg would be impossible. I started healing as soon as the door closed.

I aligned my leg and the bone knitted close against each other. I let out a sigh of relief as the pain left my body.

“Well, your reputation is ruined forever,” Willem snarled. “Asking if she was okay? Like you were going to rent a room and fuck her directly after. Nazril, you really need to stop treating women like babies.”

“Couple of weeks and I am back in the game. I needed a break anyway. My winning streak had to end one day.” I said, now standing up on my own. The cut in my eyebrow healed up.

“You should’ve kicked her in the head when her nose started bleeding. You would’ve had her right there, but noooo Nazril doesn’t do that. He asks if his opponent is okay.”

“Listen, brat-”

“Calling me a brat again?”

I pretended like I didn’t hear him, “If she died-”

“Fighters don’t die that easily, fool!”

“Don’t talk to your godfather like that!”

Until the elevator got to the top, we just yelled over each other without going anywhere. I know calling him a brat is weird, he is sixty-two already after all. Sometimes I just wished to travel back in time. To a time where Willem was a child and Jan was still physically able to do fun stuff. Going to a pub with my best friend, I’m sure those days were over.

Jan’s time was almost over in general.

Shit.

We fell silent when the elevator dinged upon reaching its destination. We walked out and went to Willem’s car. He demanded that I sit in the back, which I did. He drove to his father’s house to tell him the bad news.