The Underground (Cyberpunk Au)

First Blood

Returning his attention back to the present, he takes in the yellow industrial lighting illuminated the stairwell and Connor made his way down. With each step, he could feel the stronger thrum of the beat of music reverberating through the building. It made his heart rate pick up, the reality of his situation slowly sinking in. He didn't have the luxury to panic, there was too much at stake and he needed to pull this off. One last deep breath and he pushed open the door on the left.

"Well, look who decided to be a man," Barstow grinned sharply at him.

"I stand by my word," Connor replied easily and dropped his duffel bag to the floor. "Who is on the menu tonight?"

It was a fairly straightforward matter of snide put downs throughout the so called orientation talk. He wasn't to speak to anyone about the place, wasn't to invite friends, couldn't sue for any damages and the winnings were strictly bolts in hand. Nodding along to everything, Connor looked around the room. It seemed to be the office where most of the money and betting slips were kept. Once he had agreed to Barstow's terms with a bored nod he was led back out of the room to what he guessed to be the changing room.

It was bustling with activity, fighters already covered in blood and heaving after a fight, others practiced with punching bags while being jeered. Connor looked around but avoided eye contact with most people. A few noticed his arrival and whistles went up around the place for the "new pretty boy". There were some lewd offers from some of the fighters but Connor shrugged them off with a coy finger wave that ended with him flipping them off.

"You won't be so pretty and cocky when I'm done with you," someone growled as he walked past.

"It's cute you think you'll still be talking after a round with me," he retorted.

"Now now ladies," his escort said, "save the flirting for the ring."

Connor was pointed to an empty patch on a bench where he dumped his bag and looked around. A quieter corner of the room, fewer prying eyes. He approved.

"Your debut is at 22:30. Be at the red door by 22:15."

Connor nodded at the instructions and he was left to it.

"Hey, Little Boss," someone called after the guy, "who's pretty boy going up against?"

"Boss wanted to pitch him against the Lotus."

A low whistle and a few murmurs passed through those nearby. The guy asking looked over at Gavin with a look of pity and contemplation.

"What did you do to piss the boss off like that?" he asked.

Connor shrugged with a cheery smile and set about getting ready. It was easy enough to slip into his new gear that were slender for his agility but durable to take a punch. The fighting was no holds barred and he was under no assumption that some of the fighters played dirty. After a moment of self-doubt, he pulled his hoodie over his head and slipped into a white sleeveless shirt. If the crowd needed a show then it was the best color for any blood splatters, no matter whether it was his or the other's. As Connor prepares his arm gear around his hands he wondered what kind of name Lotus was. To his ears, it sounded more like he was going to be hypnotized into submission rather than knocked about a bit. There wasn't time to ponder for a lot longer though, he stretched and bounced around on the balls of his feet to warm up. Before he knew it, it was time to stand by the red door.

Behind the thick steel he could hear the thumping of music, a crowd chanting and a thrum of excitement pounded through him. A shrill bell rang and the door swung open to blinding, colorful lights and music that made his entire chest echo the beat. From all around the depths of the warehouse stomping and chanting beat down on him.

"Tonight a new challenger rises against the formidable Lotus," a commentator boomed and screams erupted. Connor stumbled a little against the bright lights as he squinted and finally they dimmed a little, sweeping over the spectators. It gave him a chance to eye up his opponent. He should have known, really should have known the Lotus was going to be a slender android with small elfin features, limbs long and spindly. She was taller than him and somehow looked almost disjointed in her moves.

"Let's see how our newcomer fares against her. Will the ground be red or blue tonight?"

A hush fell over the entire room. The rustle of bodies packed close together as they craned to get a better look, the lights dimmed and a low beat picked up. Soon the entire room was stomping and clapping to it. The lights strobed, a bell gonged and shuts erupted as the fight finally began.

If Connor ever felt at a disadvantage against an android, it felt multiple-fold in the ring. Lotus weaved around him in a scuttle, long limbs easily keeping him at bay. The crowds howled, each near miss of blows, the times Connor jumped back or rolled under an attack. He was biding his time, trying to figure out where Lotus's weaknesses were. It was hopeless to try and rush her in an ambush, just because she looked slender didn't mean she was fragile. Connor at least knew that much about androids. So he weaved, watched and patiently began to calculate.

Soon the crow began to boo, bored by their dancing around. He didn't have much time left. Lotus feinted to his left before sharp claw like fingers reached for his other side moments later. It was an opening, one that Connor felt pressured to take. He dodged under the arm and grabbed it while delivering a blow to the elbow joint. It buckled under the pressure and Connor felt relief. It was short lived though, the limb he'd thought he'd broken whirred to life, the joint separating at the break and the arm crawled towards him on the ground like a horror prop. He stumbled back with a sharp cry and the warehouse erupted in gleeful laughter.

"It seems our intrepid challenger was not expecting that!" the commentator laughed along with the crowd.

Anger made Connor grit his teeth, he drew in a sharp breath of air as Lotus' leg whistled through the air towards him. He rolled to the side on instinct and the loose hand grabbed at his clothes.

"He's caught in her trap!"

Like hell Connor was going to let such a dirty trick let him fail. He grabbed at the end of the arm and yanked, causing tears in his shirt in the process. The arm wriggled in his hands but he held tight. With a manic gleam in his eyes he advanced on Lotus.

"I don't believe it!" the commentator shrieked in excitement. "He is actually using Lotus against herself. Look at the violence in each blow. Ouch, I bet Lotus wasn't expecting her own hand to be the one to blind her like that."

The noise, the lights, everything faded into the background as Connor raised his arm against with a grunt. Blue blood splattered across his shirt, his face, it dripped off his chin but he kept going. When he thought he'd done enough, Lotus had gripped his arm and sunk her fingers through his gear and into his flesh. She'd quickly let go when he stomped on her chest and her loose hand battered against his head.

"Is he going to go for the kill?"

The crowd screamed around him. The chant of "kill" echoed throughout and Connor knew what he had to do. Quickly, he dropped a knee on either side of Lotus' hips, the hand he clutched grasped at Lotus' one, pinned her into place. With one hand he reached for her chest, felt the circular indent of her power pump. A push and twist later it clicked and Connor yanked it out, held it aloft above his head. The spectators howled in delight as blue blood pooled around his knees.

"Do you submit?" Connor rasped, chest heaving. Under him Lotus nodded, eerily still. Without another word, Connor jammed the pump back roughly and pushed away. He stood and turned in the ring, fists up in victory as the crowd went wild.

"It looks like we have a new contender. A real crowd pleaser. Maybe we'll see you again soon, fighter."

Connor left the ring without a backward glance at Lotus who dragged herself back through the blue door. A few hands thumped him on the shoulder, murmurs of appreciation from other fighters but Connor barely heard them. The adrenaline high thundered through his veins, the small taste of glory drummed a shaking high in an echo of stamping feet and screaming crowds. He may not have been keen on the assignment, but part of him enjoyed the thrill of the fight.