The Underground (Cyberpunk Au)

Hush Now Baby

People usually avoided Connor; he wasn't popular amongst the fighters, kept himself to himself mostly. But that evening nobody even dared look his way. It set his teeth on edge and his lungs itched for a deep breath. He could only wait with mild trepidation as fighters either walked out of the ring or were pulled out. The lucky ones usually had a benefactor by their side, berating them for losing the fight. Tough love, that's what the others called it.

"That will be you next," a voice drew Connor's gaze from the door where a fighter was curled on their side and gasping short painful breaths.

"Oh yeah? And why is that?" he drawled in response.

"Nobody escapes Baby unscathed. She'll obliterate you."

"Huh, how about that? Maybe it's time someone bucked the trend then." Connor tried to sound overconfident and sure of himself but it was difficult. What kind of fucked up idiot called their android Baby? He didn't have time to mull it over or ask the other fighter about his opponent. The light around the door lit up red and it was his time.

The chanting in the arena was different. More subdued, the light blinding no matter how he turned. As soon as the brightness flashed into life with muted cheering it all went out just as quick. The whole warehouse was plunged into darkness and silence. Two lights came on, one on Connor and the other on his opponent, Baby.

"Oh hell no," Connor shook his head.

He was not doing that. Standing opposite him in a pure white nightgown was a child android with pigtails. She even clutched a stuffed rabbit in her hand and stared at him with baleful eyes. 

"Tonight," the commentator boomed, "will we have Baby obliterate another foe? Or will Little Fury be the David to our favorite Goliath?" it wasn't a title he would have picked for himself but then again, he wasn't going to be sticking around for long. 

The klaxon went off and it was like something from a horror movie.

Baby's features twisted into a gurning grimace as she launched herself at him. Connor was unprepared for the attack, so caught up in his own moral quandary of fighting what was essentially a child. She slammed into him; sharp, claw-like nails tore at his arm and drew blood. There was no mercy, she kicked, hit and scratched, aimed for his weak spots, whacked him in the ribs.

Connor was on the ground before he knew what was going on, the crows screeched in laughter and jeered as he was getting schooled by a little girl. Pain began to override his shock. The next blow he blocked and pushed her away. She was heavier than anticipated, no doubt reinforced but more skilfully than other models.

They separated and Connor clambered to his feet, circling and shielding his ribs from a further attack. She rushed at him, limbs flailed in wild fury and so much like a child throwing a tantrum. Connor couldn't retaliate; he dodged instead and kept his distance.

As much as he wanted to get out of the fight, he knew the rules. Once in the ring, nobody came out until there was a clear winner. Around him the crowd was getting restless, even the commentator was drawling on about Little Fury maybe was more Little Annoyance than anything else. Connor was getting tired while Baby continued her un-co-ordinated attacks. It couldn't last, Connor was going to exhaust himself and make a mistake. He couldn't let that happen, couldn't let the case he'd worked so hard on fall apart just because he developed a sudden case of ethics.

Taking as deep a breath as his ribs and bandages allowed, Connor shifted his stance and waited. Baby charged at him again and he stepped aside, an arm caught around her neck as he pulled her body towards his, her back to him. There was no time to think. No time to hesitate. As quick as he could, he adjusted his grip on her neck and the other one came to the side of her face. One quick clean jerk. Her head snapped off and rolled, sparking at the exposed joints to a stop.

Connor couldn't hear the screaming and stomping of the crowd, the commentator replaying a blow by blow account in slow-mo on the screens. He stumbled, blind and deaf for the darkness of the door. One hand found the frame and he clutched is as he heaved and retched, barely staying upright.

He couldn't have said how he got home. There were maybe snippets of a bus ride in his memory but mostly it was a blank and the image of Baby's head rolling away from him. Her eyes went blank after it had come to a still. If he had wanted to, he could have said her eyes radiated forgiveness and relief in her last few moments. But Connor couldn't give himself that absolution.

The next thing he knew, he was curled up in his bed, heaving shallow, dry sobs while his ribs radiated agony.