*Rumble*
The apartment creaked and groaned; bits of powdered debris fell off the flaky cream-colored walls. A man stared into a dust-covered mirror in front of him, his deadpan gaze locked in on his own lifeless jet-black eyes. He had thick onyx locks reaching more than halfway to his shoulders. He stood in front of a gray three-seater sofa that was covered in rubble, calmly getting dressed. His tanned chiseled face seemingly oblivious to the very present devastation unfolding around him.
"I'm going to be late," he said aloud in a shockingly neutral tone.
While putting his shirt on, he began to admire his body in the mirror.
'I just can't get used to seeing how ripped I am... How strange...' he thought, almost matter of fact.
His physique was so muscular and defined and his body so tanned, that he looked like a Mr. Olympia candidate, each movement causing his clothes to strain against his rippling muscles.
Out of nowhere, hazy music drifted through the room. The source? A severely cracked TV that was sitting on a cabinet to the left of mirror he was facing, now slanting destitute against the wall. It unexpectedly flickered back to life.
"Breaking news," a strained feminine voice announced.
"Peace deals between the 'The United Countries', and the vertex seem to be up in the air at the moment. They claim that due to 'the human resistance' groups' nefarious intentions and the vast amount of lives lost on July 30th and August 5th by ''Satan's incarnation', they cannot go forward with the proposed deal. Until however, they have eliminated all of the extremists. They have stated to the UC 'The Vertex have every right to defend themselves'," she calmly conveyed.
The lines of the man's blank face soured minutely.
'Are you serious? Why are they bombing in the first place if their goal is to just eliminate extremists? By bombing, you're also killing civilians, and even a small number of your own kind for crying out loud,' the man pointed out incredulously.
'And even if you miraculously wiped them all out, guess what? The people affected might not be too happy, and you will probably end up creating more extremists, It's a vicious cycle,'
'But even more ridiculous is the fact that they're still bringing up 'Satan's incarnation' that they subdued and supposedly tried in court... how can they even think of collectively punishing humans because of what that monster did?' he continued venting, his face a stark contrast to the supposed frustration resounding in his mind.
The monotone voice of the news anchor cut through.
"Also on the news, the 5 known black holes still appear to be expanding, and as previously predicted, may engulf the earth in as little as a year and experts say this is a conservative estimate... and could be as little as a few months."
A surprising sense of urgency spiked within the previously emotionless man, his eyes widening and his breath hitching.
'Damn... I NEED to win the bets I've made so I can get off of this deathtrap.'
'Although…' he pondered, inhaling deeply to calm his rising panic.
'I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I don't even remember anything... All I have is my name…'
The man's expression twisted slightly in discomfort and mental exertion.
'Theodore?'
'Which just... doesn't sound right?'
'I'm probably Greek? Since I can understand the language and I kind of look it.... Apparently I had an accident while working for the vertex company… "Bhavataḥ Sukhāśā"? A Sanskrit named company, which I can't even find.... But even more strange than that is the meaning...'
'"Hoping for your happiness."'
'Who would name their company that? A saint?.... So soppy.'
'And so I was "compensated generously"... but not enough to afford a vertex doctor to restore my lost memories—'.
The anchor interrupted again.
"The UC urges people to join the fight in subduing the false realities, as that will stop the black holes once and for all."
The man rolled his eyes.
'This again?'
'There's no way I'm believing a word that comes from the vertex's puppet, AKA the United Countries' mouth.'
'They don't even let us form groups to fight since it's supposedly 'dangerous' for them—despite their renowned "hyper-advanced technology." They want us to go in with small groups?
For what? To be slaughtered?
No way will I do something as moronic as that... I don't even have someone that I can trust enough to go with me.'
'What could I accomplish by myself?' he questioned internally with a hint of scorn.
'I can't believe news outlets are trying to draft us for so called 'war for humanity'... and with the support of the UC no less?'
Theodore snorted slightly in derision and disbelief, 'So much for 'establishing world peace'—'
*Bzzt*
*Bzzt*
An unassuming thin black phone vibrated incessantly on the left arm of the sofa beside him.
"Must be the driver." he mused aloud for once, his voice so devoid of emotion that it sounded almost soulless.
As he finished dressing himself, his eyes caught onto two unlikely metal objects that were placed on the sofa. A sizable and thick pipe, and a sturdy trash-can lid—the handle of which glinted expectantly.
"I almost forgot to take these," he muttered nonchalantly.
*********************************************************************************************************
An hour later
A tremendously large TV display, spanning a sizable portion of the arena, viewed the physical stats of the two fighters.
"Harland is 37 years old, but Atkarsh is 50!" an amplified boisterous voice remarked, his lack of head hair staggeringly enough not dampening his child-like excitement.
"Unlike a human's miserably deteriorating body—for a vertex, age is a thing of pride. Atkarsh's mental age is far more developed than that," the grating voice of the alien but perplexingly humanoid vertex commentator scoffed, the dull black carapace stressing his cold expression.
"…Right..." the bald man accepted in a subdued conciliatory manner before an intense spark of curiosity lit up in his dark brown eyes.
The vertex commentator continued with some annoyance, as he folded his four arms and jutted out his chin, exuding undisguised arrogance and contempt
"Atkarsh has fought for whole lifetimes... refining his sea of knowledge and experience with relentless passion and will, unmatched by his fellow vertex. That is why he is undisputed... Even if he were just any vertex fighter you humans would have no chance in beating him,"
The ball man stiffened momentarily, though a spark of burning curiosity lit up in the depths of his brown eyes before he thought better of it.
"Harland is a whole 6 inches taller than Atkarsh, at 6 foot 4 inches with a 3 inch reach difference."
The screen's display changed to an old man wearing a stylish gray suit in the octagon fighting cage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the match you have been waiting for! In the blue corner, wearing the blue trunks, weighing 254 Ibs and standing 6 foot 4 inches tall, the current KFC heavyweight champion of the woorl—... humans—The 'PHANTOMSNIPER'—HARLAND CORRNDERS!!!" the elderly announcer boomed grandiosely with invigorating fervor.
On the right side of the Octagon was a lean but muscular, platinum-haired, fair-skinned man. A well-groomed silvery short beard and mustache clothed his face with innate primal aggression. He stood tall with infectious resolve, a deathly sharp look brewing in his eyes. His unkempt hair motionless.
A polarizing mixture of cheering and booing clashed in the arena. The booing clearly coming from one very alien side of the venue.
"I guess the people don't care for any more meaningless details regarding the human champion," the vortex commentator decided with smug satisfaction.
'Sure. If 'the people' only include the vertex,' Theodore commented dryly in his mind.
The elderly announcer caught his breath.
"In the black corner, wearing the black trunks from the planet of Verticia, weighing 264 lbs and standing six foot two inches tall—THE 'UNSTOPPABLE ANIHILATOR'—ATKARSH!!!"
A robust four-armed figure stood on the left side of the octagon cage with his many spider-like jointed legs, two connected in the front of his torso and two in the back. Sporting a thick and raven black exoskeleton—off of which even the light did not gleam. Numerous tiny dot-like indentations lined his body. The air around him seemed menacingly still.
*Thunderous applause from the vertex side of the venue*
Theodore's hands gripped his arms unconsciously, his stoic face becoming faintly aghast and his heart palpitating in response to Atkarsh's malevolent aura.
'Come on Harland... I know you have what it takes to win this round. All you have to do is survive one round.... Just one... Then I can leave this hell hole of a planet and maybe get my memories back.'
The referee, an aged dark-skinned man with dreadlocks, stood between the fighters. His black-and-white striped shirt the only remaining sense of familiarity.
"I hope for a clean fight... Good luck Harland—you're going to need it," the referee uttered conspicuously loud.
Theodore's eyes widened in disbelief.
'Wow…. even the referee is trash talking—'
"FIGHT!"
The bald man straightened in anticipation, his eyes laser focused on the fighters in front of him as he detailed, "This is going to be a very tough fight for Harland, even with the reach advantage. Atkarsh is a vertex and as you know, they are very well known for their ridiculous strength and their tough exoskeleton. So he's going to have to aim for the joints since they are much softer than the rest of the exoskeleton. And he definitely can't grapple him—since you can't choke someone that 'breathes through their skin',"
The two fighters stepped forth. Harland having adopted his signature side on karate-like stance. His right arm held against himself. protecting his body and chin. His left hand hovering in front of him fluidly. He shuffled towards Atkarsh with careful measured steps. Maintaining the position of his lead left leg, his face etched with grim determination. Meanwhile Atkarsh looked at Harland, his compound eyes having mockingly become two slits and his lips adopting an evil sneer.
*Ptoo*
Atkarsh spat out his equally black gum shield—sending it flying to the colorless floor. Then he raised his chin and spreads his four arms in provocation.
The human commentator's eyes narrowed in complete disbelief.
"No way... this is just plain disrespectful... His arms are down, chin up, and no mouth-guard? Right now, he is defenseless,"
"Ha! Defenseless you say? He needs to make it a fair fight for the human, doesn't he?" the vertex commentator sneered, his tone dripping with ridicule.
"Well… The question is—will Harland take it?"
The human commentator elaborated, "If he does decide to accept, what looks like a free attack. He can either target the leg joints or the head since the body is too well armored to even be considered... This is a very tricky situation. Even if he goes for a leg kick, then he'll be in range of Atkarsh's counterattack, as Atkarsh can take a strike to give one back by pushing off with his back legs and you don't need me to tell you that being hit by a vertex—even once—can easily end a career,"
"If by career—you mean life, then I agree!" the vertex commentator cackled.
"..."
Harland continued his ginger advance, when as his front leg was about to touch the canvas about a few feet from Atkarsh—his feet executed a short rapid shuffle, his back leg muscles contracting explosively as he pushed off of the ground, sending him leaping to Atkarsh. The world stood still for Harland as he arrived in front of Atkarsh. His hips turned clockwise violently and his back heaved in synchrony.
"Haa!" he exclaimed, his face morphing into a hateful scowl.
*Whoosh*
And his right arm flexed maliciously—bending into a hook that soared over his shoulders and whistled with the wind.
*Crunch!*
That landed squarely on Atkarsh's chin. His eyes went wide with shock. Visible cracks appeared on Atkarsh's chin, which had been tilted slightly due to the punch. Small exoskeleton shards flew into the air. Harland winced, immediately retracting his hand and back-stepping out of Atkarsh's attack range. While crimson liquid seeped from the cracks.
The bald man recoiled with surprise and sheer investment.
"Oooh~!! So daring! He actually went for a hook of all things! The shortest punch, and it landed flush! That definitely hurt him. He must not have realized how much the padding would protect Harland's hands. I'm sure that if he wasn't wearing gloves, then he would have definitely broken his hand but still, it seems to have really hurt his fist," he blurted, his voice strained with fervent excitement.
The vertex commentator seethed, "That's unbelievable! How dare that human? If he didn't have those gloves—this fight would be over!"
The human commentator's eyebrow raised
"But the majority of combat sports use padded gloves and if you compare them to the KFC gloves, then I would say the 'King Fighting Championship' gloves are on the smaller side."
The incensed vertex commentator gripped the table, turning his head enough to glare at the bald human commentator.
"Unlike you weak humans, we vertex do not need any sort of pathetic protection for our hands."
Theodore's back straightened.
'Nice! I was counting on your cockiness Atkarsh... That's one bet won. Now Mr. Sanders, you just need to cook well enough to survive round one,' he mused jovially with a ghost of a smile at the end of his lips, contrasting his ever-present deadpan expression.
Atkarsh looking stunned, traced his left hand's fingers over the novel formation of cracks—the fingers picking up traces of blood. Snapped out of his surreal daze, his anger surged like a wildfire. His compound eyes gleamed ferociously at Harland, his eyelids shuddering. Atkarsh bent his double-jointed legs and arms in unison—soliciting a slight stir from Harland in response.
'Is he going to jump from there? There's no way such a 'refined' fighter with a 'sea of knowledge and experience' would do something so stupid and obvious, right?' Arthur assured himself with disbelief and surprising hint of uncertainty.
Without warning, Atkarsh's legs released the built-up force, sending him hurtling to Harland at shocking speeds. His arms crossed before him in a X shaped block, as the duo were now face to face in a blink of an eye.
Harland's body violently twitched—throwing a left hook whilst attempting to side step to the left in response. Hoping to avoid the deadly retaliation.
*Crash!*
Despite reacting relatively quickly, he was not ready for the speed of the lunge. Atkarsh's arms crashed against Harland's chest. The impact rattling his body and crushing the air out of his lungs.
*Thud*
Harland's left hook landed lightly afterward. His body flew backwards a few steps—barely managing to remain standing.
*Strangled inhale!*
Harland looked partially dazed, his stance worryingly feeble, as he took sharp breaths with great difficulty to try restore air to his bruised lungs,
"HA! HA! HA!" meanwhile Atkarsh's body released visible bursts of misty air in mirth. His many hands clutching the back of his head in glee as his body shook and his lips formed a euphoric sneer.
The human commentator braced himself against the white table in front him
"INCREDIBLE!! Atkarsh jumped, crashing into Harland from such an unprecedented distance. And Harland, stepping to the side, threw a check left hook in response, but Atkarsh was just flying through the air too fast and with too much force. He couldn't land it properly and the force threw him back, nearly sweeping him off his feet! This is just unbelievable!" he gushed.
What do you think Samir?" the human commentator asked, sounding restlessly giddy.
A small contemptuous smirk spread across the vertex commentator's face in response, before replying with undisguised gloating, "Well Joe. The human champion should of—as they say on your planet—just let the sleeping dragon lie... His ignorance was his downfall. He should have understood his worth and place sooner."
"W—…" Joe stopped himself from responding.