Victor of Tucson

Chapter 12: Crowd Favorite

Yund clapped Victor on the back, put his big, meaty arm over his shoulders, and led him back to their staging area. On the way, he said, “I told you those things are weak. You made minced cutlets of ‘em. Listen, your next fight isn’t in this bracket; we gotta wait for the first bracket fights to wrap up, so you might have twenty minutes or an hour. Go shake out the cobwebs, get some water, and be ready!” Then he propelled him toward the rope, and Victor slipped under, looking for their big water barrel.

Sarl was standing near the barrel, and he handed Victor a cup. Victor drank deeply, sighed, then scooped the cup into the barrel to refill it. While he poured water over his head, shirt, and arms, trying to get some of the blood off, Sarl said, “Hey, Victor, I wanted to say I was sorry to see what happened to Yrella.” Victor looked up sharply, squinting at Sarl’s face, and he saw only sincerity.

“Thanks, man.” He felt guilty inside like he should have a nice thing to say about Yrella whenever she came up, but he just didn’t have those kinds of words. Not right now, in the middle of a Fight Night and covered in blood.

“I take it you won your fight, eh?”

“Yeah, one of ‘em.”

“You have more than one? As far as I know, I only have one today.”

“Yeah, you heard him. They’re short or some bullshit. I have four fights. Well, three now.” Victor shook his arms off, then downed a third cup of water, loudly sighing as he hung the cup back on the peg.

“Four? That seems extreme; I’d be tempted to wonder if Boss was trying to get rid of you.”

“Nah, man. I think he knows about my Core. He saw me fuck that guy up the other night, and I think the guy who helped me make my Core told him about it.” Victor had been thinking about Yund’s change of attitude toward him, and it only made sense that the guy who Yund paid would tell him whether he’d had any success. It seemed like a rage-attuned core was perfect for Victor’s situation. All Yund had to do was drop him in a pit with only enemies and tell him to go nuts. Victor didn’t know how effective something like Berserk would be among high-tier fighters, but it seemed to be borderline overpowered at his current level.

“Your Core?”

“Yeah, he paid some guy to help me figure out what kind of Core to form, then help me with it. Didn’t you get a reward for winning that fight with me?”

“Oh, he offered me a race fruit or extra time off my sentence. I took the time-off.”

“Does that motherfucker ever let us take a shower or something?” Victor asked, looking down at his shirt and jeans.

“Aye, if you win enough fights, he’ll reward you with things like baths, extra meals, prostitutes, even, as you’ve seen, special things like racial upgrades. He’s more generous with fighters with long contracts.” Sarl clapped Victor’s shoulder. “It’s good that you have won your first three fights. It means you’ve got a fighting spirit, and that’s half of what you need to survive the pits, or so Kurl says. He’s been fighting the longest among those in my pen - there are seven of us.”

“What’s the other half?” Victor almost didn’t want to ask.

“Luck! You need to be lucky with who you get matched against, with injuries, with sickness, with your manager; is he poisoning you so he can make you throw a fight? Did he do any of a hundred other things to ruin your chances?”

“Fuck man, I just want to get outta this mess. I wanna win my freedom, then find a wizard or something to figure out how I can get home.”

“Good, keep your goals manageable!” Sarl laughed, and Victor kinda saw the humor in his words, so he chuckled along. Then Ponda’s huge paw was on his shoulder, and the big Vodkin pulled him toward the ropes.

“Hurry up; we’re almost late,” Ponda said, shoving people out of his way as he dragged Victor between the pits toward the center again. What was with him getting the big pits tonight? Victor hustled after him, and when they came to the edge of pit one, he stood on the little fighter’s platform and was relieved to see no swarming monsters waiting for him within.

“Just another fighter, then,” he said softly to himself. Trying to get pumped up, he hopped in place and closed his eyes, thinking of things that got his blood boiling, trying to avoid the most harrowing memories. He remembered how Zan had referred to Vullu as “his daddy.” He was mocking Victor’s relationship with Yrella and Vullu, totally making a mockery of his memories with them! Victor felt red heat start to pour out of his Core, and a cruel smile twisted his lips.

“Fighters are ready!” A booming voice sounded from the left, and Victor opened his eyes, noting the Vodkin judge looming in his red-tinted vision. He looked down into the sandy pit and saw spiked clubs here and there in the sand, three of them. He looked around the perimeter and realized he was one of three fighters standing on the edge, ready to jump in. He stood with his legs partially flexed, listening for the signal, his thighs trembling with anticipation. “Begin!” The judge roared, and Victor launched himself forward and to the left toward a club handle sticking out of the sand.

As he flew through the air, Victor saw that the other two also had jumped toward weapons. When he landed, he grabbed the club's handle in one hand, spinning to face his opponents and preparing to activate Berserk. The other two fighters were both Shadeni - their red faces, snarling in menacing grimaces as they stalked one another and Victor. Both men wore tattered leather clothing, and neither looked particularly graceful in the sand, but Victor didn’t let his guard down, choosing the one on his right to start to circle. The other Shadeni saw what he was doing and flanked Victor’s target, forcing him to split his attention. None of them charged the others, though, and Victor slowly inched closer, keeping his club ready, moving on the balls of his feet, his center low and primed to react. Victor could feel the tension, feel the knife’s edge their inaction was balanced on, and said, “Let’s go, assholes!” as he triggered his Berserk.

Burning rage surged out of his Core into his body, and as before, Victor’s vision went crimson. His body convulsed as his muscles thrashed and swelled, then he was roaring and charging into the Shadeni, swinging his spiked club in an arcing blur. The Shadeni, remarkably, managed to lift his club to block, but Victor smashed into him so hard that their clubs’ spikes married the two wooden weapons. The momentum of Victor’s swing continued forward, ripping the club from the Shadeni’s hand and burying the long nails of both clubs into his chest. He was thrown backward, stumbling into the other Shadeni, and they both scrambled for balance, falling away from Victor.

“Come on!” Victor roared and leaped at the uninjured Shadeni, smoothly stepping inside the arc of his club and scooping him up in a double leg takedown. Victor pressed his chest into the Shadeni, using his mass to hold him down, while he scrambled up his legs to kneel on his arms, then he began to punch his face. He hit him once, twice, three thunderous blows to his face, then Victor’s vision darkened, and stars exploded in front of his eyes. He toppled to the left, his face planting in the sand and grinding for several inches. The other Shadeni had extracted the clubs from his chest and smashed Victor in the back of the head.

Victor didn’t quite understand how, but his vision started to clear, and through the red haze of his vision, he saw the sandy floor and one wooden wall of the pit. Dimly, he was aware of the screaming and shouting and cheering coming from around him, but he just grunted and scooted his knees up under himself and pushed up onto his hands. He glanced to the right, and there were the two Shadeni. Both looked winded and bloodied, circling each other, having dismissed Victor as a goner. Victor didn’t pause to consider his rationality when he got pissed that they’d written him off. Instead, he pushed on that rage, pulling more Energy from his Core. He began to pant heavily, and drool was pouring out of his snarling mouth when he jumped to his feet and slammed into the nearest Shadeni - the one he’d hit in the chest earlier.

He completely body-checked the Shadeni into the wooden wall, and Victor heard ribs crack. He grabbed the guy’s wrist and twisted it with all his strength until the man screamed and dropped the club. As he reached for the fallen weapon, the other Shadeni charged at him and brought his club down for Victor’s skull. Victor grabbed the club’s handle and rolled over his shoulder, away from his enemy’s swing. He smoothly rolled onto his feet, then screamed and charged at the two Shadeni, smashing his club from left to right and right to left, the ferocity of his blows overpowering their attempts at defense. He completely ignored their punches and half-formed club swings. And as his brutal smashes broke through, their defense crumbled, and he hit them again and again until they were still, and golden motes of Energy were streaming into him.

***Congratulations! You’ve achieved level 7 base human. You have 10 attribute points to allocate.***

Victor waited for his vision to clear, but he realized it already had. Sometime while he’d been smashing those two guys, his Berserk had worn off, and he hadn’t even noticed. What did that say about him? What was he becoming? He shook his head and looked at his notification. “Fuck me; I forgot to spend my last five points.” He reached his hand back and felt his skull. It was tender, and his hair was soaked with blood, but he couldn’t find any big lumps or broken bits. Whatever cut had bled was also closed up. Slowly he became aware of the crowd standing up around the pit, screaming and cheering. Several of them held paper slips in the air howling with glee. They were all fixated on him, waiting for him to do something, maybe? He let go of his head and raised his gory, bloody spiked club into the air, over his head. The screaming and cheering began anew, with increased fervor. “Fucking chill out, you psychos," he said under his breath, but he still grinned and shook his club in the air while he walked over to the little platform where Ponda was waiting.

“Kid, I thought you died when he smashed your head!” Ponda said as he hauled him up to the edge.

“No such luck, big guy.” Victor realized he still held his club, and a lot of people had eyes on him, so he dropped it down into the pit. “Fuck, I’m thirsty.”

“Let’s go; you’ll have a little time before you have to fight again. Can you go crazy like that as much as you want?” Ponda started walking back to their section, clearing a path for Victor as long as he stayed near the big man’s back.

“What do you mean ‘go crazy?’”

“You know,” Ponda looked back over his shoulder, “When your eyes get all full of blood, steam rises off you, and you scream and smash people around.”

“Hah, well, today’s the first time I’ve had a skill for it, so I’m still learning its limits. It says it has a long cooldown, but I’ve used it in both fights, so it can’t be that long.”

“‘Long’ can mean anything from a few minutes to a few days. It sounds like your skill is usable after a few minutes. I think the System calls it ‘long’ because, in a fight, twenty minutes is the same as forever.”

“That’s the fucking truth.” Victor had never known how long six minutes could be until he’d started wrestling. They were back at their section, and Victor made a beeline for the water. Ponda clapped him on the shoulder as he went by, and Victor actually felt like the big guy was being friendly. Sarl wasn’t there this time, and Victor figured he probably was off fighting. For a minute, Victor wondered if he’d be back. Would he die in this fight? At that moment, Victor decided he didn’t want to get close to any more fighters. He already felt like he’d be gutted if Sarl died, and he hardly knew the guy. He couldn’t handle any more Yrella’s, that was for sure. He grabbed a cup and began the process of hydrating.

After drinking his fill and washing some of the blood from his hands and arms, he sat back against the wall and contemplated his attributes. It was evident to him that his Berserk ability was the only reason he was alive right now. It allowed him to go all-out offensively while holding his body together against the stabs and pummeling he’d inevitably take. He decided to stick with his strengths for now and spread the points around his physical attributes. When he was done, his strength was up to twenty-five, his vitality was a solid fifteen, and his dexterity and agility were both at twelve. When he applied the ten attribute points he’d banked, the surge of Energy that flooded through him, presumably making the improvements, was intoxicating, and he closed his eyes, just absorbing the good vibes.

Victor’s third fight for the night took a little longer to come around. According to Ponda, a few fights had turned into real brawls, dragging on for a while. He said that some of the tier two and three fighters had abilities that made them very hard to kill. In any case, the time finally came, and Ponda led him back toward pit number two again, right near the center of the warehouse. However, something new happened this time when Victor stepped onto the platform: people started cheering and clapping. A few of the spectators even shouted his name. “Don’t get too excited,” Ponda said, standing next to him. “They cheer for you because they’ve already seen you bleed tonight, and they’re happy you didn’t slink away to the infirmary.”

“Is that an option?” Victor couldn’t stop himself from smiling along when Ponda laughed and shook his head.

“Not unless you can’t walk.”

“Fighters ready?” Victor looked at the familiar judge and nodded along with Ponda. He glanced around the pit and saw he only had to fight one opponent; a tall, striking woman with blue skin and pale green hair and eyes. She wore leather pants and a tight cloth shirt, and she looked like she’d just come out of a beauty salon - she was so clean, her hair so lustrous. She frowned and nodded in Victor’s general direction.

“What the fuck?” was all he had time to ask before the judge shouted for them to fight. Ponda gave him a little shove, and he fell toward the sand and mortal combat with the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“Victor, hmm? I heard the crowd - they like you.” Her green hair bobbed in a high ponytail as she circled him. He licked his lips nervously, not liking the idea of beating up a beautiful girl. So far, there weren’t any weapons in the pit, so he moved in close to grapple; he wanted to test the waters a little. She met his attempts to grab her neck or wrists with easy deflections, and when he tried to slip in for a single-leg takedown, she hopped back and gave him a shove, so he stumbled to one knee. He smiled, kind of enjoying the competition, and when he started to stand, turning to face her, her snap kick caught him on the forehead, and he stumbled back onto his ass, bright stars blooming in his vision.

The kick caught him by surprise, and Victor knew he was being dumb, taking her more lightly as a threat just because she was hot, so when she flashed in with a straight punch aimed at his throat, he pivoted and swept her legs, sending her crashing into the sand. Victor had always had a strong ground game, and he was on her before she’d gotten her hands under her. He slid around behind her, grabbing her head in a chokehold. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was recoiling at the idea of choking this girl to death, but more immediately, he just wanted to immobilize her. That’s when an ear-shattering sound ripped out of her throat, sending a visceral shockwave of piercing needles into Victor. He felt like someone was peeling his skin off as he rolled away from the girl in the sand, thrashing like a man on fire.

This time when his vision went red, it wasn’t from rage but from blood. Blood was sheeting down into his eyes, coating his face, arms, and chest. Had she actually shot him with a thousand needles? Where the fuck did they come from? He groaned, rolling in the sand, and then he felt a thunderous concussion as her foot slammed into his kidney. He gagged, rolling again, trying to get some distance. The deep throbbing pain from his lower back told him he’d taken an injury, unlike anything he’d experienced before. Something inside him was broken. He pulled his knees up to his chest, turtling up while struggling for breath. That’s when he heard her giggles. She was fucking giggling while she stalked around him in the sand. He caught a glimpse of her as she darted in front of him, then she was behind him, and he tried to spin to keep his legs between them, but she didn’t come in for a kick or punch; she screamed again, and thousands of tiny, fiery points of pain ignited along his shins and knees. Blood darkened the denim of his jeans, soaking them through, and Victor inhaled sharply, wanting to let out a scream, but the fiery pain was too intense; his scream choked in his throat.

“Does it hurt, boy? I’ve heard from reliable sources that it does.” Her voice had a lilting quality, light-hearted and teasing. She giggled, and Victor closed his eyes and activated his Berserk ability. Instantly the fiery pain all over his body went silent, and he thrashed onto his back as his body surged with burning rage-attuned Energy. “Dying already, boy? I haven’t finished entertaining the crowd yet.” She screamed again, and Victor felt the tiny needles hitting him all along his stomach, arms, chest, and neck. They didn’t hurt, though; he just knew they’d hit him like you’d notice water running over your hand at the same temperature as your body; it didn’t burn or feel cold; it was just there. He hopped to his feet, his face a terrible visage of steaming blood, baleful red eyes, and snarling blood-flecked teeth.

The beautiful Ardeni woman’s smile fell away, and she took a step back. She raised her hands and screamed again, and once more, Victor felt the pressure of something hitting him, though it didn’t bother him anymore. He roared in a fury and was on her in a heartbeat. She tried to drive him aside with a spinning round kick, but Victor punched her shin as it came at him, cracking the bone. She wailed in pain, but before she could fall, Victor was on her, sliding behind her, one powerful arm around her neck, squeezing her larynx into the crook of his elbow. He roared up at the sky while he crushed the life from her, and the crowd roared back. Her body went limp, and Victor paced around in the sand, still holding her tight in his arm, looking for something more to fight.

When he came back to himself, he noticed the notification in his vision:

***Congratulations! You’ve achieved level 8 base human. You have 5 attribute points to allocate.***

When he reached up to dismiss it, the girl’s corpse fell away, and he realized he’d been holding her this whole time. The crowd was going wild, chanting his name, cheering the blood-soaked monster in the middle of the pit. Victor took two steps away from the body and vomited.