Rory stared at the dressing room door and swallowed nervously. The arena rocked and shook as the entrance music of his opponent began to play. The whole crowd was stomping and howling a graxian war chant, which Rory could hear clear as day through the walls and floors of the arena.

Rory wondered how different this fight would feel like from inside the ring than the ones he had on earth. He remembered how frightening fighting in front of 20,000 at the QB Arena back home was. And this crowd dwarfed that. It was giving Rory goosebumps, and he hadn’t even seen it yet.

Plus, the broadcast… The promoter said this would have around twenty or thirty billion people watching. My biggest fight had only a hundred twenty thousand buys…

Rory snapped back into the here and now as his father, Bill, shook his son’s shoulders. “RORY! Now’s not the time to be away with the pixies. Go piss before we get your gloves on.”

“I’m good.”

Bill sighed. “Just try, will you.”

Rory growled, “I’m not a child anymore; I can tell when I need to piss for myself, thank you.”

Bill shrugged. “Your funeral mate.”

Bill strapped the gloves to Rory’s hands and secured them with tape. “Remember, son, one-twos and leg kicks. This Grax cunt may have four arms, but you have 6 inches of reach on him. And for Christ’s sake, stay off the ground, you can’t sto-”

Rory snapped at his father. “I know! I can’t stop a choke; he has four arms, I have two. You’ve told me a hundred times already!”

His father gave him a stern yet apologetic look. “Sorry, son. I’m just trying to pound it through that thick head of yours and undo everything I’ve taught you.”

Rory’s face flushed with anger. “Thick head?! That’s fucking rich from the dumb cunt that got us here!”

Bill’s eyebrow twitched. He was sick of his son’s chippy attitude. Rory was acting half his age, but Bill kept his frustration under control. After all, the kid had a point. It was his fault.

“I’m sorry, son. I just didn’t want to see you end up like me.”

Rory roared, “AND THAT’S WORTH DYING FOR!?”

He had more to say, but the appearance of a squat, toad-like alien shut him up.

The alien, a bunello, asked, “Am I interrupting something?”

Bill quickly said, “No. What is it.”

The greenish-blue toad in a three-piece suit said, “It's time. Follow me.”

Rory stood up and took a deep breath. “Just give me the fucking flag.”

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Quiet activity filled the back of the studio while the broadcast commentators, Gallox and Klack, detailed Shaq’ta’s storied career.

Gallox, a yellow-green bunello in a white suit, said, “Shaq’ta is looking to improve his record to 58-7 with this fight and build on the deep run he made in the last Galactic Cup.”

Klack, a scarred and bespectacled grax wearing a blue suit, shuffled some papers on the desk and added, “We can expect Shaq’ta to come out swinging today. His coach told me that Shaq’ta spent the offseason training his boxing hard, sparring with a top 100 fighter almost daily.”

The producer leaned out from behind the camera and started to count down the commentators with two of his four twelve-fingered hands.

Gallox asked, “Whose this mysterious top 100 fighter? Is he one of your students?”

Klack laughed, “No, no, no. It’s a secret.”

At one, the human's walkout song, The Joker and the Thief, began to play, and the ring camera cut from Shaq’ta dancing in the ring to the opposite tunnel, showing the human fighter jogging out of the dressing room with a starry blue Australian flag draped across his back. The muscles in the human's chest bounced as he ran, and his blonde hair gleamed gold in the spotlight. At the halfway point, the human fighter slowed and started to shadowbox. The camera zoomed in on the jellyfish tattoos that coiled around the human's thickly muscled forearms.

Klack said, “And now for the challenger, a human named Rory Caldwell. Coming in all the way from the planet Earth in the Orion arm at 6’2 and 185lbs, this 23-year-old human is looking to make his species proud in humanity's first foray into interplanetary competition.”

Gallox chimed in, “If you folks at home haven’t heard of Earth or humans before, it's because they joined the confederation only two years ago.”

Klack added, “While this fight may seem to be no challenge to the great Shaq’ta, we cannot ignore the wildcard factor here. Humans are high category deathworlders, and the gravity on Earth is a bit higher than it is here.” The commentators and Rory were shrunk to the corners of the screen as a highlight reel of human fighters played. Klack continued as a clip of two blood-soaked human boxers exchanging a flurry of punches played. “These humans aren’t the quickest or strongest, but they have some otherworldly elusiveness, accuracy, and endurance.”

Gallox said, “That’s some nonsense, Klack. Can someone check if humans are deathworlders at all? Anyways, I think you’re taking this kid too seriously. Just because you were an underdog who proved the galaxy wrong doesn’t mean every underdog can, too. This human has never fought off-world, and on top of that, he only had four professional fights on Earth.”

The producer got on the mic. “Gallox, I ran a search, and it turns out Klack’s right, humans are category five deathworlders.” Everyone in the room except Klack paled. The producer continued. “Could be an error, but anyways, get this, he wasn’t even a champion on Earth! He finished third in wrestling at the Olympic games on Earth! AND he isn’t officially representing humans either.”

Klack began to say something, but the yellow-hued toad raised a webbed hand and said, “Klack, Shaq’ta is ranked 423rd IN THE GALAXY! THE GALAXY! And this human isn’t even acknowledged by his own planet! You can’t seriously believe this earthling is going to give a veteran like Shaq’ta a run for his money.”

Klack raised two of his arms in exasperation, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Stranger things have happened, Gallox. I think we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

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Rory regretted ignoring his dad’s advice. He had to piss the moment he stepped out of the dressing room. He could barely hear his song over the boos of the crowd. There has to be at least a million people in here…

Rory handed the flag to his father and slipped through the ropes, entering the ring. It was double the size of the rings he was used to. Seeing how much space he had gave Rory confidence. If he ever got in trouble, he could backpedal and use his jab to keep the grax at bay.

Rory walked to the center of the ring and stared down his grax opponent. Shaq’ta bounced on his feet, shifting side to side. Rory stood still and took deep breaths as he studied Shaq’ta, following the Grax with his eyes, counting four seconds for each inhale and exhale. The crowd started to filter out of his senses.

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His foe stood on two legs, had beady black eyes and scaley gray skin, was a little taller than Rory, and had opted for knuckle tape instead of gloves on his four hands.

Rory sorely wished he could have at least gotten a spar with a grax in the three days he had to prepare for the fight.

The ref, a yellow-orange toad, shuffled over and switched on the translator box on his belt.

“No eye gouging, no strikes to the windpipe, no biting, and no low blows. If you do it once, you forfeit the round. Twice, and you forfeit the match. Understood?”

Rory answered, “Yes.”

Shaq’ta grumbled the same in graxian.

The ref continued, “There will be three five-minute rounds, and in the event of a point draw, the fight will continue in overtime rounds until one of the combatants is unable to continue or withdraws. Understand?”

Rory again answered, “Yes.”

Shaq’ta just nodded.

The ref patted both fighters on the shoulder and said, “Good. Return to your corners until the bell rings. Best of luck to both of you.”

Rory turned and walked to his corner. Bill set the stool down in the ring and gave Rory a sip from a water bottle before sticking his mouthguard in. Rory's father would have to act as a cut man, cornerman, and coach tonight.

The ref signaled that the fight was about to start while Bill rubbed Vaseline over Rory’s face. “Remember, son, one-twos and leg kicks. One twos and leg kicks.”

Bill slipped back through the ropes with the stool and shouted, “Show these cunts what a human can do!”

The bell rang.

Rory stalked out of his corner in a semi-crouch and met the gray grax in the middle of the canvas. He studied the creature’s guard. Shaq’ta had all four of his hands up, covering his head. Two at his jaw and two just below his eyes.

Rory stepped forward and snapped a jab into the alien’s face. While Shaq’ta checked his jab, Rory pivoted in, throwing a vicious shovel hook into the grax’s ribs. Shaq’ta grunted in pain and lunged for Rory’s arm while simultaneously throwing a right hook and left uppercut. Rory slipped his wrist out of the grax’s twelve-fingered grip and pivoted on his back foot, leaning out of the path of both punches while slamming his left leg into Shaq’ta’s thigh.

Shaq’ta grunted and tried to throw an overhand right in response. Rory slipped it and slammed his left fist through the gap in the alien's guard, connecting with Shaq’ta’s chin. Shaq’ta reeled slightly, but the grax went on the assault, landing two big body shots before the human danced out of reach, all while successfully blocking Rory's counterpunches.

Rory circled the grax with a little more caution.

The grax suddenly picked up the pace and started to chase after Rory. The human backpedaled, covering his retreat with jabs from his back foot.

Shaq’ta checked a jab and feinted an overhand, baiting a counterpunch from the human.

Rory stepped in and snapped off a right hand but found nothing but air. Shaq’ta ducked the punch and rocked Rory with a cross from his upper right arm while he shot forward and grabbed Rory’s right leg with his bottom arms.

Rory jerked out of Shaq’ta’s grasp in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding a single-leg takedown. He jabbed at the grax’s guard from his back foot as he retreated.

There were red marks on Rory’s leg where Shaq’ta had briefly grasped.

During his escape, Rory noted that the grax opened his guard when he went for a takedown, leaving his chin wide open. If I can bait him in…

Bill had seen the gap and knew that his son did too. He shouted, “TEST THE DISTANCE!” from the corner.

The two fighters circled each other. Rory stepped in and out of the grax’s reach while snapping off punches into Shaq’ta’s ribs before the grax could get a hand down to block. Slowly, Rory edged closer and closer, retreating less and less after his strikes.

The body shots were starting to add up.

Shaq’ta started to cheat one of his hands down when Rory jabbed at his body.

Rory stepped in and feinted a jab.

The grax dropped his bottom left hand a little too far. Rory punished the gap and rocked Shaq’ta in the corner of the jaw with a right cross.

Shaq’ta wobbled. The human followed it up with an onslaught of powerful body shots and rapid combinations, but the grax managed to check and weave away from most of Rory’s blows in an impressive display of defense and head movement.

Rory winced as Shaq’ta landed a big hook to his ribs. Rory tried to catch the gap the punch left in the alien’s guard with an overhand right, but Shaq’ta slipped his head to the side and landed a straight left over Rory’s eye, cutting his brow. Shaq’ta pressed the attack, throwing a big right hook and a simultaneous left uppercut.

Rory sidestepped the uppercut and leaned out of the hook, landing a shot to Shaq’ta’s ribs in the process. Rory stepped back out of the grax’s reach and went for a low leg kick. The grax leaped over the kick and diverted Rory’s fast right hand as he tackled the human to the ground.

The grax straddled Rory and pinned the human’s hands with his top arms while he pummeled him with his bottom arms. Rory slipped one of his arms out and rocketed his elbow into the top of Shaq’ta’s head. The grax’s grip faltered, and Rory reversed the alien.

Bill screamed for him to get out of there, but Rory saw a path to victory. He tried to get his arm around Shaq’ta’s neck, but the alien jammed two hands between the human’s arm and his throat. Shaq’ta pushed up onto his hands and knees with his free arms and violently jerked down, slipping his body out to the side of the human’s grip.

Rory saw something moving in the corner of his eye.

Oh fuck, that’s an elbow.

Light flashed in Rory’s eyes, and his ears rang. Pain washed over Rory’s face, and he felt blood running down his nose. His hold on Shaq’ta slipped. The grax scrambled to his feet. Rory growled and lunged into the back of the grax’s legs, tackling the alien back down.

The bell rang, and the ref hurried to pull the fighters apart.

Rory blinked tears out of his eyes and gingerly probed at his nose as he walked to his corner.

He plopped down on the stool and spat blood into a bucket hoisted by his father. His brow was cut, his eye swollen, and his nose broken.

Bill asked, “Can you breathe through it?” as he gave Rory a sip of water.

Rory shook his head.

His father set the bucket down and chided, “I told you not to fucking wrestle.”

Rory spat blood onto the canvas as his father held the cold press over his eye. The one-man corner was already showing its weaknesses. “Did you see anything?” Rory asked.

Rory’s father pointed his chin to the cold press. “Yes. Hold this for a sec.”

Rory traded hands with his father and held the cold press to his brow.

Bill grabbed a towel and wiped blood off his son’s face as he said, “Once you get close he sets up for a takedown. If you don’t back out of it, he’ll commit, and you can go in low and land a clean shot on his chin.”

Bill set down the towel and apologetically said, “This is going to hurt.”

Rory groaned as his father jammed gauze-covered rods into his nostrils. The flow of blood from Rory’s nose slowed.

Bill continued as he pulled the rods out, “Watch his knee; as soon as he drops it, go.”

The bell rang.

Bill cursed. He didn’t have enough time to reapply Vaseline. He took the cold press, put Rory’s mouthpiece back in, and hurried out of the ring.

As Rory left the corner, his father shouted, “Watch the knee!”

Rory came out in full crouch with his hands low. Rory eyed his gray-skinned opponent warily. He knew exactly what he needed to do; he just had to figure out how to do it.

As Rory circled his grax opponent, he remembered an old, old fight he had watched with his father. Rocky Marciano vs Jersey Joe Walcott.

Rory smiled. I’m going to knock this cunt out with a Suzie Q.

Rory leapt into action with an uppercut into the grax’s stomach.

Shaq’ta stepped into the punch and threw a jab, uppercut, and a hook in response. Rory dropped his head and sidestepped, slipping the jab, ducking the hook, and taking the uppercut in the shoulder. He stepped forward and landed a rapid one-two before Shaq’ta could get his guard up.

Watch the knee.

Shaq’ta was caught off guard by the human’s advance, but he welcomed it. The grax dropped a knee and launched forward, shooting his head towards Rory while reaching his bottom two arms for Rory’s legs. The alien threw a straight left as he came in, leaving only one hand to guard his head.

This is it.

Everything went into slow motion for the human. At that moment, Rory remembered the day his father had taught him how to punch for the very first time with remarkable clarity. He heard his dad telling him, “Punch through the bag, not at it.” as he swung. He even remembered the song that was in the background of the gym.

‘Cause I’m T.N.T, I’m dynamite!

T.N.T, and I’ll win the fight!

T.N.T, I’m a power load!

T.N.T, watch me explode!

The grax’s punch glanced off Rory’s head as the human took a step in and threw a lightning fast jab into Shaq’ta’s hand, knocking it completely clear of his face. Rory’s back hip shot forward as the human swung his whole body into a massive right hand. Rory’s fist whipped forward with all 185lbs of his bodyweight and every ounce of power his muscles could generate behind it.

Rory heard a sound like a gunshot as his fist connected with the side of Shaq’ta’s chin. Shaq’ta’s head snapped to the side, and the veteran grax fighter dropped to the canvas like a sack of bricks.

The arena erupted.

The fight was over.

Rory screamed and flexed as he stepped over his downed opponent. He walked towards his corner, wanting to see his father's reaction.

But the greying old man was looking past him, concern in his eyes. Rory turned and looked back to Shaq’ta’s motionless form.

Rory’s eyes widened in horror.

Shaq’ta’s head rested on the canvas at an unnatural angle. Blood pooled underneath the grax’s head as it seeped from his eyes, nose, and ears.

The crowd went quiet as the ref knelt beside the downed fighter to check his pulse. The ref looked to the judges and shook his head, confirming what everyone already knew. Shaq’ta was dead.

The crowd went wild.