In a futuristic society where people are differentiated and valued based on the purity of their genes, can a person define for themselves who they really are? Or does The Gene Test provide the answer for them?
Depression... Addiction... Criminality...
Sterling clenches his teeth tightly together, muscles in his face twitching, and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they hold a menacing glow, devoid of any of the warmth he looks at me with. He throws his hood over his head without using his hands, and looks the man dead in the eye with a stone-solid expression. "One match."
Marco's grin widens. "Our boy's back."
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***
"Welcome, everyone, to the fifth match of the night!" the announcer blares over the speaker, causing the crowd to roar even louder.
Sterling has a smoothie in one hand, and my wrist in the other. He pulls me tightly to his body, and whispers into my ear, "Stay close to me." The basement is completely packed with people, all surrounding the raised square platform in the middle of the room. It's a fighting ring. I'm starting to feel a bit uneasy about this...
Marco walks ahead of us, to the announcer's box. He talks to the announcer for a while, then looks out and points out Sterling to him. The announcer nods, and makes another announcement over the speaker, "Alright, folks. Looks like it's going to be an interesting fight! Our current reigning champion, known only by his stage name, The Crusher, is going to be entering the ring!"
The crowd goes wild.
"And challenging him tonight is one of our veteran fighters, who hasn't been seen in The Pit for over two years. We wonder if his fighting skills are still what they used to be — he may have gotten rusty during his hiatus. I guess there's only one way to find out... On the other end of the ring, we have Stephan Nite!"
His next words are what sets the people off into complete pandemonium.
"It's going to be... a limit fight!"
People start to hoot and scream, pumping their fists high into the air. But when I look up at Sterling beside me, his reaction is much different from theirs. His eyes are narrowed, mouth fixed into a furious scowl, as he fixes his gaze on his target: Marco.
As soon as Marco exits the announcer's box Sterling charges up to him and mutters through clenched teeth, "I didn't agree to a limit fight."
Marco doesn't look fazed by him at all. In fact, he almost looks amused, with raised eyebrows. "You agreed to a fight. I didn't mention what type."
"What game are you playing, Marco?"
"Come on, Stephan. You're an old friend, you should know me by now. I have faith in you, you should put some trust in me too." Marco leers, and winks. "You've always been light on your feet." With that last word, he pats Sterling on the shoulder, and walks off.
Sterling watches him with resentment in his narrowed eyes, and licks his lips.
I have a bad feeling about this, and I'm really starting to regret this now. I shouldn't have said that I was curious earlier. I mean, I was, but now that I've gotten a little tour around this place, I've realized that it's not somewhere I want to be. Is it too late to back out now? I look to the exits, but Marco's thugs are stationed in front of every door. I gulp. Looks like it is.
