Warning Shots

Dragon

Saturday May 15th 2088

Terror Dome

New Detroit

11:12 PM

I entered the steel cage as I always did, taking in the scent of blood spilled by every fighter who ever set foot inside. Hand to hand combat is what I lived for and my augments were proof of that. My cybernetic limbs pushed me beyond my limits. And the Terror Dome was no place for amateurs. Many jobbers who thought they could make an easy paycheck ended up paying for their hubris with their lives. I was no jobber. I knew the rules. Fights were always done until the person either gave up or stopped moving. My opponent stood tall and proud, flaunting his musculature augments as if they meant something. My cyber eyes scanned him to see what kind of tech he had chipped in. The augments in his arms were top shelf, Tyson Mk III cyber arms being all the rage with up and coming fighters. The stats of those arms were off the charts, but I was sure his skills were second rate. He was a larger man of slavic descent. And to him, I was a smaller Chinese man.

"Hey, gonk!" He said, taunting me, "Ready to get creased?"

"No," I replied. "You're the one who's getting flatlined, asshole."

He was not pleased with my reply, and I liked that. I had gotten into his head and caused him to lose his temper. He ran at me, swinging wildly with his fists. The trajectory of his swings told me everything I needed to know. He was exactly the amateur I took him for. I decided to give this newbie a typical Terror Dome welcome. I dodged his every swing effortlessly, moving like the wind.

"Hold still!!" He shouted.

I had no intention of letting this new blood hit me at all. I lost count of how many swings he missed after about twenty or so, though I could tell he was tiring himself out trying to hit me. My chance had arrived. I activated my trademark augment, letting the berserker implant fuel my next strikes. I took a single swing at his jaw with a right hook. The entire area around the cage could hear his jaw snap out of place, but my assault was far from over. The fear in his eyes only served to fuel my rage. I took my next strike at his head with a fierce kick. The impact produced a loud snap that the arena could hear, resulting in the newbie collapsing to the ground without the ability to move. Or breathe. He was stone dead after two strikes.

"The winner is," The announcer said, "Dragon!"

I walked out triumphantly, though unimpressed. I thought back to the first time I killed someone in the ring, remembering the guilt in my heart at what I had done. But I was now a mercenary with a decent kill count. That man was just another kill on my belt. His lifeless body lay there for a moment before it was carried out of the ring. The bloodthirsty crowd cheered me on despite me ignoring them. Maybe they liked the stoicism. Or perhaps they hated my opponent. But none of that mattered to me as I was only here to make a quick buck.

Yata was a hacker. Ray was a soldier. Quince was a marksman. I was a brawler. Yata obsessed over coding and data havens. His whole life was the cyberspace he explored every time he jacked in, the daemons he uploaded onto his deck, and the systems and implants he hacked into. Ray never forgot his training, which made him an excellent leader. He had contacts and he had the brains to rival his brawn. Meaning he was as smart as he was strong. Quince was naturally talented with firearms, and she never let her gifts go to waste. What she lacked in augments, she made up for with pure skill. She was what most people called a natural as she used minimal cybernetics. However, I was different from the others. I was a fighter through and through. I loved the thrill of going fisticuffs with some real bruisers. There were fights where I was challenged. Fights I lost but survived. Fights that pushed me to become better than I ever was. However, tonight's brawl was not one of them. A spectator approached me, looking very excited to meet me.

"Dragon!" She said, "You totally gotta meet my friend. She's into you."

"I'll pass."

I wasn't going to fall for this trick again. Last time a woman tried to set me up on a date at the Terror Dome, it led to an encounter with a vengeful hacker and ended with Yata trying to zap malware from my augments. Though he was very good at that, he would taunt me about trusting random people. Then installed an old program from almost a century ago as a joke. The last thing I wanted to do was deal with troublesome encounters. Or deal with Yata being a snarky asshole. So I simply tried to walk away.

"Well fuck you, asshole!" She shouted as I turned my back to her.

I learned my lesson from the last encounter like this. Besides, all I cared about was a good fight. If I wanted to meet a women, I'd approach her first. Because the other way around never worked out well for me. At just the right time, I got a call from Yata.

"Hey, Dragon," He said via comms, "You're not gonna believe this shit."

"What is it, Yata?"

"I just got my hands on a Tsukuyomi."

"Hey, Bird brain. I ain't got a clue what that is."

"To explain an uninitiated wilson like you, it's a daemon that causes surveillance blackouts across camera networks. But the beauty of it is that it also attacks the optics of users connected to the same network. Think of it as gouging out the eyes of big brother and his followers."

"And who would be stupid enough to connect their brains to any networks?"

"Dude, it's standard protocol for corporate security guards to connect to surveillance networks so that the system can have better eyes on the area the guards are protecting. What kind of dumbass question is that?"

"I dunno. I learned a few things from talking to you. Mostly jargon."

Yata let out a laugh. He knew I was trying to give an underhanded compliment, but it came out sounding like an actual endearing comment. Despite his arrogance, he'd be the person I trusted with cyber security concerns. Or the guy I'd ask to hack a smoothie machine for free drinks. He was kind of a dick, but he was far from useless. He and I got along for Ray's sake.

I saw the balance for my fight wired to my account. Without a moment to spare, I walked out of the Terror Dome like it was just an average Saturday night. And for me, it was. We were getting ready for a big gig, and the Terror Dome was my idea of relieving tension beforehand.