The perception attack me with a violent brutality. I hear loud, bestial cheering. Alongside a surge of heat, I smell mustiness, sweat and several other hard-to-describe smells. I'm afraid to step inside, but I do it anyway. Within a second, the cheering stops and the dwellers look at us.
There are both Castaways and Healthy, usually in pair. Probably Champions and their partners. They mostly look rough and somehow... street. Messy hair, ripped clothes, extravagant styles. The Castaways are armed with various proths, usually customized and personalized to somehow match their style.
I can fit in fairly easily, with a black cropped top, unzipped hoodie and gray capri sweatpants. But I feel bad for Ryan. His formal clothing is as fitting as bikini in a theatre. The dwellers look at us with a variety of emotions - amusement, disbelief, curiosity.
Then, the inevitable happens. They start to laugh.
One of the Healthy, a young man in a baseball cap, steps forward with a grin. "God, you have to be the most pathetic Champion-partner pair I've ever seen."
I feel an embarassed blush taking over my face, but in this place, it seems that I have to play hardball. I approach him, looking dead in his eyes. "That's why I came here," I say with a voice as firm as possible. "I don't want to be pathetic anymore."
The laughter changes to amused "Oooh!"
"A newb, huh?" the man's Champion approaches me. It's a lean Castaway with spiky, dark purple hair in unzipped leather jacket and ripped pants decorated with chains. He pokes me in the chest with his black-and-red mechanical arm. I have no choice but stumble backwards. "What's ya name?"
"Zoya," I reply.
"Nobody gives a fuck about your real name. We use Champion names here."
"I don't have one yet," I admit. "I'm just getting started. I came here to train, get some skills and ask you for some tips and strategies. I hope I came to a right place."
"What makes you feel we'd help you?" the punk Champion smirks.
"The solidarity," I reply without hesitation. "We've all been through the Dead Zone."
"That's true, but why would we raise a competition?"
I keep silent. There is no answer for this.
"Come on, Blackbolt," says one of the female Castaways, a lean, muscular woman with a black ponytail, mechanical legs and a scar over her left eye. "There's no way this tiny something can become a competition, don't you think? I guess it's okay if we teach her a trick or two, so she can survive in the arena for at least a minute. Or thirty seconds - let's be realistic."
"Don't be so mean, Swiftwind," another Castaway, this time chunky and older, scolds her. "We all remember you when you came here for the first time. You looked almost identical to her and you'd be nobody if Scarlet Sparrow didn't teach you how to fight."
Swiftwind lowers her eyes. "You're probably right. Sorry."
Blackbolt pats me on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Zoya. We were all beginners at some point. Some had a better starting position, some had worse. You look like a child who got proths by some mistake, but we can still do something with it if you work hard enough."
"Valkyries," Swiftwind remarks. "Those are some good proths."
I look at Ryan standing aside, observing my socialization. Blackbolt also looks at him, letting out a snicker. "Hey, Doc," he calls him. "A pro tip. If you want to infiltrate a Neoclash community, maybe try to... look less like a phony university motherfucker? Seriously, dude. You look pretty awkward here."
"I'll keep it in mind," Ryan replies prissily.
"So... are you going to train me or not?" I ask.
"First, I should decide if you're worthy," a mighty voice resonates through the room. The crowd parts and makes a way for the Champion that slowly approaches me.
...
I hope that the dim lights can hide how pale my face went. I can judge that the Champion is something like a boss here. When he spoke, everyone went silent. Other Champions look at him with respect. Maybe it will change with time, but right now, I feel only fear.
The Champion is huge, probably about two meters tall. His figure is rather lean, yet muscular. He's dressed in a simple white T-shirt, black jacket and jeans, like he didn't need to flaunt an eccentric style. His artifical part is a right arm, almost twice as thick as his left arm which is mighty enough by itself. The proth is toned into gold and silver. There is a crest engraved on his hand, big enough to fully embrace a football with ease. It looks like three interocked triangles.
It's surprising for me to see his face. That Castaway is old, in his late fifties at least. His sharp, weather-beaten face already has wrinkles and both his full beard and long, fair hair are getting grizzly. However, it would be a grave mistake to consider his advanced age a weakness. His gray eyes under bushy eyebrows radiate strength and willpower.
I think about whether I should continue playing hard or show some respect. I decide to go halfway. "And who are you to decide about my fate?" I ask, but I don't make it sound like a challenge. I look him in the eyes, but temper my body language.
The Champion smiles - and it looks surprisingly warm. The wrinkles around his eyes give away he actually smiles a lot, even though he doesn't look like it. "You can call me Odin," he replies. I'm the Champion of Champions of the years 106, 107, 110 and 115. Nice to meet you, greenie."
"Odin?!" Ryan exclaims and rushes to the elderly Champion. "Odin!" he cheers. "You are... my hero! When I started watching Neoclash as a child, you were my favorite. I was always rooting for you, I have all your trading cards... and now, I get to see you in person! Incredible!"
A few people from the crowd laugh, but Odin's roar is the loudest. "It's great to see a fan," he says. "If your Champion passes my test, I'll consider giving you an autograph."
"Test? What test?" I wonder with a strange gut feeling.
"Fight me," Odin says in blunt terms.
I leave my mouth open for a while. "F...fight?" I voice. "A quadruple Champions of Champions who's three times as big as me and had years to train...?"
"Calm down," he tries to soothe me. "You don't need to defeat me. And I'll go easy on you. I just need to know if you have what it takes to be a Champion. During my life, I've come across more Champions than you can imagine. And I think I can tell someone's worth pretty easily. So just do your best and I'll tell you whether you have future in Neoclash or you should seek a different job."
"Okay," I say. Then, I take the first look around the room. It probably really used to be a warehouse, but now, it's used as a hideout of Champions and their partners. In the back corner, there is some gear used for training, but the main feature of the room is a large, enclosed arena in the centre.
"This is an illegal arena, right?" I say.
"No," the Healthy with a baseball cap speaks. "This is only a training club. The Champions train here. And we have no responsibility if they decide to have a spar match from time to time." His tone clearly says it's something he would tell the police if this place was discovered. This is an illegal Neoclash arena.
"So, Zoya," Odin smiles as he barges his way through the crowd and enters the arena. "Let's see what you've got. Your eyes tell me you are a good material. Can you prove it?"
I take off my hoodie and throw it at Ryan who mumbles something under his breath, looking terrified. The crowd's cheering intensifies. I also cross the ropes, step into the arena and face Odin. My knees are wobbly and fear paralyzes me, but I try to not let it show.
"And we have a fight!" one of the Healthy announces as the crow goes wild. I feel hundreds of eyes on me, curious about the performance of this tiny, fragile Castaway. "Odin versus Zoya. Beginner versus Champion. There are no bets on this fight! Okay, ready? Begin!"
...
Odin lets out a battle cry and rushes at me, with his artifical hand raised. He intends to grab me. That would end the fight before it could even begin.
Fueled solely by instincts, I wait until he's only a few meters away from me. I crouch. The mechanism in my legs activates and hurls me into the air. Odin sweeps below me; I'm out of his reach. He halts and turns around. I land with a squat, fluently chaining into a low kick while still half on the floor.
I don't expect the attack to succeed. However, my heel connects with Odin's shin. His leg doesn't move an inch, but I hear his groan. The crowd cheers even louder and claps.
The applause is for me. They didn't expect me to even touch Odin.
The Champion gives me a satisfied smirk. "Very good, Zoya."
"I'm just getting started," I return the smirk and while he's distracted, I launch myself towards him shoulder-first. I aim at his belly, expecting him to double over and stumble backwards. However, he raises his artifical arm and sets it in my way. I didn't expect him to react so fast. Instead of burying my shoulder into his flesh, I encounter a semi-firm metal of the prosthesis.
Ouch.
Odin is unharmed. I land on the floor with my head spinning. Odin approaches me and raises his open palm. Before it can pin me to the floor, I roll to the side and let it hit the empty floor. I blindly kick up with my left foot, not expecting to hit something. However, another grunt sounds as the tip of my foot connects with his chin.
The crowd cheers again, some of the people even laugh.
It was all pure luck. Luck, instincts and reflexes. I actually amaze myself.
My opponent sweeps his hand low above the floor. I try to avoid it, but I'm too dizzy for that. I prepare for the impact. It comes soon, hitting my shoulder and tossing me away. I let out a short, painful shriek. I try to do something, but my body refuses to cooperate.
I have pins and needles in my shoulder. The shock prevents me from thinking straight. That way, I'm not able to do anything as Odin approaches me and grabs me. His hand is big enough to fully grasp my waist. He lifts me up and the audience bursts into laughter.
Great. Now he holds me like Ryan holds his chocolate bars.
I struggle. I try to loosen the grip of his mechanical fingers, but his strength is no match for me. He lifts me above his head as the crowd's cheering goes even louder. This is so embarassing. Odin just walks around the arena with me in his hand, laughing. I know there's nothing malicious about it, he just wants to put a good show. But he should think about the fact I'll carry the stigma of "the girl carried by Odin".
I have to let him. I'm helpless. I can't even use the Ace in my legs.
Or can I...?
I stop struggling and put more focus in my effort. Fortunately, my legs are free to move. I bend my left knee, then stretch out the right leg. I twist it so I can rest its tip on Odin's arm and bend it. It's uncomfortable, but I feel satisfaction as the hidden mechanism in the legs activates.
Odin looks at me with a frown. He probably realized I'm up to something.
I give him a sweet smirk before I release the legs.
The Counter-gravity engine in my heels launches me so powerfully Odin has no choice but to release me from his grip. For a split second, I fly above the arena as Odin, genuinely shocked, tries to comprehend what just happened. This is my chance to strike.
As I land on the ground, I try to repeat the trick I tried a moment ago. I activate the mechanism again and launch myself towards Odin. This time, he doesn't raise the arm since I probably damaged it somehow with my escape maneuver. My attack is successful. My shoulder connect with his stone-hard stomach.
Just as I expected, Odin gasps in pain and surprise. He makes a step backwards to keep balance. That's where I decide to spin kick the hell out of him while his defense is broken.
But this is also where my inexperience with combat moves proves itself.
...
I spin on my heel and raise my leg, aiming at Odin's face. But the move is way too sloppy and slow to work. For Odin, it's enough to bend a little backwards. My foot harmlessly misses his neck (I can't even aim for face properly, he's just too tall) and moreover, the attack throws me off balance.
The old times come back at me as I struggle to keep standing. Unsuccessfully. I stagger backwards and land on my back. Odin takes the opportunity to end our little exhibition. He rushes forward and uses the mechanical arm to pin me to the floor.
This time, I have no chance to escape. Odin's fingers enclose my waist like an impentrable cage. One of the Healthy jumps into the arena and starts counting down from ten to zero. "...three, two, one, FINISHED! We have a winner!" He points at Odin who finally lets me go.
Odin offers me his healthy hand, calloused and scarred. I accept it and the Champion helps me up.
I feel horrible. The fight was over before it could even begin. Maybe I had several bright moments, but that doesn't change the fact he obliterated me in an embarassingly short time.
The crowd starts to cheer and clap again. I blush and lower my eyes - I was only a fodder for Odin't next great victory. But then, to my surprise, I recognize a word in the crowd's roar. A word chanted over and over again. I raise my chin again, staring at them with open mouth.
ZO-YA! ZO-YA! ZO-YA!
Odin joins the chant and sets the pace by pumping his artifical fist. I manage to give a shy smile.
"But... I lost," I object as the roar ceases a little. "Lost within a few minutes."
Odin looks at me. "Listen up, little girl. I've fought countless professional Champions in all possible arenas. Some of them weren't even able to touch me. But you... whew, I'm still seeing double. You're fast like a tempest and just as furious. I admit... you still have a lot to work on. That last mistake was pretty awkward and the fight could last longer if you didn't try such an advanced technique. But we'll get to that soon."
"That means... I was good?" I voice.
The huge Champion laughs. "No, you weren't good! You expect too much of yourself considering you just made the first step in the world of Champions. But you aren't completely hopeless."
"That means you'll train me?"
"Yes, I will. And I think some of the Champions present here today will help me."
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and leave the arena. First, I see Ryan's face with raised eyebrows. He gives me back my hoodie. "I expected it to last a little longer," he says. "But you were alright, I guess. It's probably pardonable since this was your first fight ever."
His reaction let me down, but I don't let it show.
Odin approaches him with a smile and pokes his chest, making Ryan stumble backwards. "Do you want to try it too, you nerd?" he smirks. "If you think you'd be able to do better than Zoya..."
"I didn't say that!" Ryan bursts out. "Okay, okay. She was good."
Blackbolt approaches me. "I have to admit, you were somehow... less tragic than I expected. You still have much to learn, but kicking Odin's facade is an achievement on its own," he smirks.
"And he used about thirty percent of his power," Swiftwind adds. "He usually uses, like, ten percent when he fights beginners."
Even though she probably meant it like a harsh compliment, my self-esteem drops again. If Odin wanted to, he could end the fight in a few seconds. I know I'm probably being petty and I expect too much from myself, but I'm also aware there will be opponents who won't go easy on me.
When the time comes, I have to become stronger. Much stronger.
The Healthy who refereed the match steps forward and offers me his hand. It's a man in his early thirties with a dark butch cut, tanned skin and warm blue eyes dressed in dark army jacket and jeans. "Welcome into our community, Zoya," he says. "My name is Blake Lawrence and me and Odin kinda run this place."
"You are Odin's partner?" I ask.
"Yeah, that's right. My partner, my best friend and partially a fatherly figure."
I look at Ryan. "Why can't our relationship be this awesome?"
Blake laughs. "You'll get there soon. However, there are some rules I'd love if you followed."
...
"Rule number one, no cops," Blake says. "Don't worry, we have some ways how to keep this place running even if some cop finds it, but we prefer to not use them. First, we try to play dumb and use the version with a training centre. Second, if it doesn't succeed, we try to make an agreement. Third, we try to bribe. And fourth... well, believe me we resort to violence only when completely necessary."
"No police," I nod. "I understand."
It's understandable since this whole place is illegal.
"Second rule, fight like a decent human being," Blake lectures. "We don't have the INF system active, so it means you're vulnerable in fights. We don't want any serious injuries, the less deaths, here. You are encouraged to kick asses of your opponents, but only to a certain extent. Don't get too carried away. A single death or a serious injury can send this place to shit because it's always investigated like crazy."
"I thought the illegal arenas are savage places where survival is not ensured," I smirk.
Blackbolt joins the conversation. "We'd love to have it this way, but as you heard the Boss, it would put the whole community into danger. So we have to behave like good, well-mannered Champions."
I nod. "Any more rules?"
"Maybe it doesn't seem so," Blake replies, "but we don't tolerate bullying. Jibing and mocking, that's okay. But if you pick on any of us to make their life miserable, you're out. I'm not saying it because I'd expect you to bully someone. It's pretty much the opposite. If someone treated you like shit, don't be afraid to tell me."
"I don't need any protection!" I say. "I can take care of myself."
Blake raises his eyebrows and smiles. "I know. Just in case."
Blackbolt points to the back of the room where the training gear is. "This is all yours now," he says. "Use it as much as you need. You have to work on your shape, if you understand."
"Yeah. I do."
Odin approaches me and puts his organic hand on my shoulder. "Would you mind if I take Zoya aside for a while?" he asks. "Just a short talk between two Champions."
I look at Ryan. His face clearly shouts Don't leave me alone with these savages. I just smile at him. Then, I look towards Odin. "Okay. Let's go."
Odin opens the door and we step outside. Wind tickles my skin, still sweaty after the fight. There is an old, rusty bench in front of the building. Odin sits on it, I sit next to him. I don't feel insecure or threatened. Odin is huge and scary, but not dangerous. Something about him is surprisingly meek and friendly.
"So, how do you like your new life so far?" he asks, like he was trying to start a casual conversation.
"It's amazing, but also overwhelming," I reply. "When I came from the Dead Zone, I wasn't larger than a child and had only one leg. And now... I can do things I didn't even dream about earlier. Walk. Run. Eat and sleep in unlimited amounts. But it's also a great responsibility. Every time I see a large city, I feel so small, inexperienced, unbecoming. Like I don't even belong here."
Odin patiently listens.
"Don't you feel like being used?" he says. His deep voice is surprisingly soothing. "You were bought at the market like a slave. You basically work for that Ryan dude. Don't you feel like something inferior?"
His question surprises me. "No," I reply after a while. "Me and Ryan are equals. I help him reach his goal and in return, he gives me home I've never had before. I don't feel like his slave. And he's not using me. I also want to fight. For myself. I want to feel like I achieved something."
Odin nods. "That's good. I had to make sure."
"Make sure about what?"
The man gazes at the darkening sky. "Some Castaways who are brought here think otherwise," he says. "They feel like their dignity is being smothered. That they are just some trained monkeys who fight for the Healthy's entertainment. They want to break free. Regain their pride which was, in fact, never lost. And such rebellious feelings often lead to their downfall."
"I can see why someone thinks like this, but it's not my case."
"Do you want my honest opinion? They are idiots. Do you have a while to listen to old man's babbling? I can tell you a thing or two about Champion life."
...
After I nod in agreement, Odin continues. "If you think about it with a common sense, you realize the Champion life is actually great. You don't have to care about anything except your own improvement. As you said, there's no fighting for survival, a roof above your head, as much food as you can eat.
I'm a part of the very first generation of Champions. My very first tournamment was in the year 94, that one which got cancelled after one of the contestant lost his temper and killed his opponent. I saw it with these two eyes. It was a tragedy and it cancelled Neoclash for five years. After the INF system has been invented, I returned. And in 106, I became the Champion of Champions for the first time.
And guess what? I've never felt like my freedom or my pride is being smothered. It's actually the opposite. In Neoclash, we fight for honor. Because we want to. If someone feels like a trained monkey while fighting, they are destined to fail. Too bad they often end up as Outlaws, pain in the society's ass."
"Have you met many of such Castaways?"
"More than you can imagine. Their rebellious intentions, their fake wounded pride. Some of them went as far as killing their partners. During my carreer, I had three partners. None of them ever tried to enslave or degrade me. They all became my friends, with all equality and respect. If you see your partner as a slaver, there's no hope that your relationship can work. But I see that's not your problem. You have already adapted to your new life and after you become a better fighter, you have a bright future ahead."
"Thank you. If you don't mind... what's your real name? I understand you prefer calling each other with these... nicknames. But it seems too impersonal to me."
"Konstantin," he replies. "From the Northern territories. When I was drafted, I was young, inexperienced. But I immediately realized that this new life is a new chance. Fighting only for money and honor, not for survival. Horst, my first partner, taught me everything I needed to know. I spent over twenty years in Switzerland and we went through some brilliant victories together.
However, he died way too soon. An accident. I spent several years as a Ronin, a Champion without a partner. I ended in Visegradia where I joined forces with a woman named Šárka. We fell in love with each other and went through a short love story. She was carrying my child. But then... everything went wrong."
I can feel sadness in Konstantin's voice and eyes. A romantic bond between a Healthy and a Castaway seems strange to me, but it's clear he loved that woman. I don't want to pry anymore, but Konstantin continues by himself.
"Miscarriage," he says. "Both Šárka and our baby died. I had no idea what to do. I quit Neoclash for several years, travelling the whole Europe. I even briefly started drinking. I was broken, lost all reasons to live, but refused to give up for some reason. Then, in Britain, I finally met Blake who pulled me back together. I spent a few more years in the arena, then I retired. After that, we created this place. We knew it's illegal, but we thought the Champions need some safe haven, a place to fight just for the love of the game. And also, the beginners like you needed some place to train, where the veterans can share their experience with the young generation."
I lower my eyes. "I'm sorry about your loss."
"You don't need to be. Every end is a beginning to something new. This is, more or less, a motto of all Castaways. Our whole life revolves around ends and beginnings."
"Just a question. Do you tell this story to every new member of your community?"
Konstantin shakes his head. "I usually keep it to myself. You are an exception, Zoya. Something in your eyes tells me you can understand. Behind all the determination in them, I see sadness. Is that so?"
"You are observant," I admit. In return, I tell him everything about my past life. How I lost my parents, how my Tribe left me for dead, how I found and lost Isaiah. Odin patiently listens, just like I did when he spoke. Even though we're opposites in every possible way, we understand each other.
When I finish, Odin nods slowly. "You also had your share of pain. But now, as a Champion, you have to push it aside. You don't have to forget it completely. It's impossible, after all. But you mustn't let it define you. That's the difference between the strong and the weak, who took the wrong path." He stands up and smiles. "I think we had enough talking for now. Come again tomorrow. Your training will begin."