Owen made his way to the dance floor and tossed his jacket aside. A couple citizens patted him on the back and for a minute he felt like he might puke. His nerves wore off fast. Since his defeat of Daddy Spider he spent ten hours a day training. It was two months straight of training. That was a combined six hundred hours of Hardknuckle.

  “We have our next fighters!” a woman declared over the loudspeaker. “Give a big Red Triangle welcome to first timer Owen!” Drunks in the crowd screamed his name. A woman grabbed him by the cheeks and planted a kiss on him. He tasted the alcohol on her breath and before he could say anything someone shoved him toward the floor. “His opponent needs no introduction. Give it up for Marvin the Mauler!”

  Marvin the Mauler pushed his way through the crowd like a rhino. He was wider than Owen and head taller. Veiny muscles rippled across his chest and his tank top and shorts were nearly bursting off. Dark tattoos of knives and lions decorated his arms. He howled like a beast and flexed his muscles for the crowd. Colorful lights danced across his scalp.

  “You can take him,” Sensei Dan said before disappearing.

  “Fighters,” the announcer said. “Ready, set, brawl!”

  The Mauler charged Owen. He was big, wild, slow. Owen slipped a nasty hook and got behind the Mauler. He threw a low kick, hit the Mauler’s thigh like a sledge hammer. Thwack! He heard the pop over the club’s music. Owen ducked a back fist and weaved through a mad rush of punches. Compared to Sensei Dan the Mauler moved in slow motion.

  Owen struck the Mauler’s thigh again and again. Twhack! Twhack! Thwack! Owen hammered the same spot, weakening the muscle below with each solid kick. Sensei Dan it called it chopping the tree.

  When Marvin started limping Owen switched tactics. Hardknuckle mandated hit and run tactics against bigger opponents. If he stayed in one spot too long one of those massive fists would make him pay for it. He worked Marvin’s ribs with solid punches and snap kicks. Pop, pop, thwack! The rhythm of pulsing music harmonized with the rhythm of Owen’s attack. The Mauler growled, spit leaking from his clenched teeth. He groaned with every step.

  Marvin glanced at Mr. Graft. His biggest mistake. Sensei Dan said a martial artist’s eyes stayed on the enemy. Owen zipped in and hit him with another low kick. Marvin’s leg buckled and he fell just as Owen’s knee rose to meet his chin. Crack! That was it. Marvin went down like a bag of rocks and the crowd went silent. Rock music pounded in Owen’s ear louder than his heartbeat. It was over too quick.

  “Twenty seconds!” Dan shouted. “Good work, Owen! Excellent work!”

  The music died down and Mr. Graft leaned on the railing of his perch. He was laughing, but he didn’t look happy. He looked like someone shit on his steak.

  “I thought you were a beginner,” he said to Owen as the music died down.. “That’s eight thousand. You still owe me two. Get the twins out here!”

  “That wasn’t the deal,” Owen said.

  “The deal is you get me my credits. Place your bets everyone. We’re looking at a bloodbath!” Mr. Graft pointed at a pair of identical twins emerging from the crowd. Both were smaller than Owen, but they were made of chiseled muscle and moved as one as they flanked him.

  “Stay on the defensive,” Sensei Dan said. “Crab stance!” Dan squatted low and flexed his biceps.

  Crab Stance was something Sensei Dan claimed he invented specifically to fight two opponents at once. Owen lowered his stance, squatting until his ass almost touched the ground, and raised his arms. If he looked like an asshole he didn’t care. Everything Dan taught him worked. He moved with wide steps that Dan called scuttling and went for the twin to his left. When in range he struck, leaping toward the twin with a powerful hook, the claw of the crab. He whiffed and took a kick to his chest.

  “Supine defense!” Dan shouted as Owen went to his back.

  The twins swarmed him with punches and kicks. Owen protected his head and kicked up. A lucky strike popped one of the twins in the chin and gave Owen an opening. He sprung to his feet and unleashed a flurry of relentless strikes against his attacker. Solid, powerful, bone breaking Hardknuckle strikes. The twin felt each and every hit. Owen saw in his eyes and then he saw the opening.

  Owen threw a snap kick right at the twin’s nose. Bam! Cartilage snapped and the twin dropped with his hands on his face. Blood spurted between his fingers. The crowd roared. Owen spun to face the remaining twin who recovered from his kick and blocked a punch meant for his neck.

  Owen countered with a jab and cross. The one-two punch drove the twin backward and a low kick swept him off his feet. The twin covered his face in surrender and Owen backed off. They were defeated and again Owen felt the addictive substance of victory flooding his veins.

  “Are we done?” Owen asked Graft. The boss squeezed the railing he leaned against and gritted his teeth. “That’s sixteen thousand. Ten for what you’re owed, the rest for the trouble Tom and those assholes put you through.”

  “Get your people and get out,” Mr. Graft said. Owen did. He wouldn’t stay to piss Graft off more. They needed to get far away from the club before Graft decided that Owen wasn’t respecting him anymore.

  “That was fuckin’ insane,” Tom said as they fled the club. He patted Owen on the back. “Where’d you learn that shit?” Tom shadowboxed as they walked. “You didn’t do none of that when you fought the demons. You’re like a fucking specter.”

  “My sensei,” Owen said with a grin. He wasn’t anywhere near a specter’s level. They were an elite security agency within city seven working for the rich and famous. Owen pulled his jacket on and patted his pocket where his weapon was safely hidden.

  “I don’t know what the fuck that means, but you saved our asses. Holy shit, Owen. I thought you’d buy us free somehow. I didn’t know you could fight like that.”

  “Can you keep it between us?” Owen asked. He didn’t want to explain where he’d learn to fight. He still felt a little insane even though he’d long grown used to Dan’s presence. Though it wasn’t any crazier than anything else in his life.

  “Sure, if you keep this thing quiet.” Tom gestured to the high lifers. “I don’t want Tuck knowing about this little side venture I got going on.” Tom scratched the back of his head. “He’d kill me if he knew.”

  “You do this a lot?”

  “A little.” Tom shrugged. “I’m like a tour guide. I take the high life kids down to see the low city for a fee. We mostly see shows and some games, but they wanted a little action this time. It was going okay until baby Mulligan pulled that shit.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “I’m sure he’s sorry,” one of the two women in the group said. She walked with a self assured confidence that only came with a giant bank account and good schooling. She didn’t go to a public education center to prepare for a life of menial labor. She was private education all the way and destined for greater things. High heels clicked as she walked and Owen’s eyes moved up and down her body, admiring the way her leather crop top and matching pants hugged her figure. “What are you staring at?” She flashed Owen a beautiful smile. He tried to look away but he was lost in her green eyes.

  “Sorry,” Owen said. He forced a smile. “I didn’t mean to stare. Do I know you?” Something in her face was painfully familiar but Owen couldn’t place it. “I feel like we’ve met before.”

  “I don’t think so.” She brushed red hair away from her eyes. “It’s okay to look. I don’t spend all that time at the gym to get mad when citizens look. I’d go crazy.” She took Owen by the arm and got so close he could feel her body heat and he swallowed. “Do you have a contract?” He smelled a hint of alcohol on her breath and a mixture of vanilla scented shampoo and delightful perfume.

  “A contract? With who? My tube rental ended a while ago.” More like he stopped paying the rent.

  “That’s not what I mean. Do you have a league contract? You’re a fighter right?” She squeezed his arm. “You feel like one.” She giggled and Owen didn’t know if she was messing with him. What was her game?

  “Not really.” Despite his physical and mental improvement under Sensei Dan’s tutelage, Owen still didn’t feel like a fighter. He could hold his own, that was true enough, but something was missing. He still felt like Owen Lamb. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “That’s bullshit,” she said with a smile. Owen knew he recognized her but he couldn’t quite remember where he knew her from and it made his brain itch. He studied her soft features, the way she smiled, the way her pants hugged her hips, and the sound of her voice. He knew this woman but his brain couldn’t figure it out. “You knocked out three guys and barely took a hit. You’re a fighter through and through. I’ve grown up around fighters so I know what I’m talking about.” She let go of his arm and put her hands on her hips. “You should let me sponsor you in the league. I’d treat you well. I own a really good gym.”

  “I’ll pass,” Owen said, though if he really thought about it hard the idea of fighting in the league excited him. He briefly imagined stepping into the hex pit with those spotlights on him and the crowd chanting his name. But that wasn’t for a low life like him. “You own a gym?”

  “A good one.” She smiled wide and kept her eyes on Owen’s, like she was looking into his soul.

  “Owen,” Dan whispered. Owen didn’t know why Dan was whispering. No one else could hear him. “She’s making the googly eyes at you.” He nudged Owen. “Get her number. Do you guys still do numbers?” He nudged Owen again. “Hardknuckle isn’t just about combat. It’s a way of life.” Dan put a hand over his heart. “Come on!”

  Owen ignored his sensei’s prodding. Men and women from different social spheres didn’t mix. High lifers and low lives stayed where they belonged for a reason. He just needed to get the group to the train and back home.

  “You should reconsider,” the woman said. “My brother is in the league and my dad was too, so I’m not offering this with nothing to back it up. I know you’d do well. We can make some real money together.”

  “That’s not a good idea.” Owen couldn’t help but look her over again. Her heels clicked against the asphalt and her hips swayed seductively. Another man might’ve taken a shot at her but Owen knew his limits. She wasn’t real, she was a fantasy in black lipstick and tight leather pants.

  “Hey, Owen.” Tom tapped his shoulder. “They following us?” Owen looked back for a second. A group of ten men stalked them like animals in the dark only revealed by a flickering streetlight. Experience taught Owen that groups of men stalking them from the shadows was never a good thing.

  “Let me talk to you for a second,” one of the men said.

  “We need to get to the station,” Owen said. He couldn’t win a fight ten to one, not even with Tom backing him up. “Now. Go!” The group ran and their pursuers followed. Rubber soles slapped asphalt as they fled up the neglected streets. Running away from overwhelming odds was something Owen learned at the Care Facility long before Hardknuckle. “Get to the platform.” Owen stayed in the rear as Tom and the tourists climbed the station stairs. “Ah fuck.” Owen looked at the station clock. There were two minutes left until the next train. Their pursuers stepped onto the platform, blocking the station exit.

  Commuters gave the two groups a wide berth. Peacekeepers didn’t patrol the low low-city transit station. Mind your own business was an unspoken rule in City Seven and that rule held strong amongst the citizens.

  “All that runnin’ and the bullet ain’t even here,” the leader of the group said. He pulled a wood club out of his jacket. “I thought you put on a good show, but Mr. Graft didn’t appreciate you doing what you did to his fighters. It made him look bad. So we gotta do what we gotta do.” He shrugged. “You get it, right?”

  “Hell no!” Owen said. He won fair and square. Mr. Graft wasn’t holding up to his end of the bargain. He couldn’t trust anyone in this whole damn city.

  “Just know it isn’t personal. Grab him.”

  “They want to play,” Sensei Dan said. “Bring out your new toy.”

  Owen nodded and yanked the nunchucks from his jacket. The mob backed off as Owen flourished the weapon, passing it from hand to the way Sensei Hardknuckle taught him. His eyes moved from man to man, wondering which would be the first to come at him. Dirt packed in the hollow pipes gave it weight and it made a haunting whistle as he demonstrated his newly acquired skill.

  “No takers?” Owen asked. It wasn’t a taunt. He genuinely didn’t understand why they weren’t swarming him. Ten on one they’d win every time. They didn’t attack. The leader swallowed and looked around. Sweat dripped from the brow of another and weapons shook as they awaited the order. What were they doing?

  “They saw what you did to those fighters with your bare hands,” Sensei Dan said with a chuckle. “They’re imagining what you’ll do to them with those nunchucks and none of it looks fun. Fear is contagious in the heart of a coward. You beat them without throwing a punch.”

  Owen held his ground in silence as the station clock ticked away. Two minutes went by in dead silence as the bullet train screeched into the station. Owen was last on as the gang let him leave and he breathed a sigh of relief when the train doors slid shut.

  It wasn’t until after the adrenaline rush wore off that Owen realized how bad that situation was. He could’ve died on three separate occasions and for what? Tom? He barely knew Tom. But Tom saved him from the Demons so Owen owed him. What about the high lifers? He didn’t know them either. He loved the way winning fights felt, but the rational part of his mind told him it was deranged to keep seeking them out.

  “You did good,” Sensei Dan said. He sat on one of the plastic benches beside Owen. “Look at all these people.” He glanced around the train car at the commuters. “No one stepped up to help. Not one. They saw ten men ready to beat you to death and didn’t do a thing, but you stood your ground and that is courageous.”

  “Something’s wrong with me,” Owen said. He took a deep breath as he stowed his nunchucks. “I’m not like this. That fight at the food court, and now this. It’s like something is taking over my body. Is this you? Are you doing this to me?” Owen hadn’t considered the CTD altering his mind.

  “It’s all you, Owen.” Dan playfully punched him in the shoulder. “That drive to fight and right wrongs you’ve suddenly acquired, that’s your warrior spirit waking up. You didn’t know you had one because it’s been asleep your whole life. It’s awake now and it won’t ever go back to sleep. Look at them.” Dan nodded at Tom and the high lifers. “They’re alive and well because of you. Because you’re a Hardknuckle practitioner.” Dan grabbed Owen’s hands and held them up. “These right here are life takers and life givers. These are your swords. Don’t draw them without cause, and don’t let them get rusty.”

  Owen rode the bullet train in silent contemplation as the high lifers gossiped about how crazy the night’s events were, like they saw it on screen and weren’t a part of it. At the next station Tom led the high lifers away. But not before the woman who offered Owen a sponsorship kissed him on the cheek and flashed him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

  “You have nice eyes,” she said. “A shame you didn’t take my offer.” She waved goodbye and then she was gone. Perfection was within reach and he let her walk away.

  “Maybe I should’ve got her info,” Owen said as the train pulled away. “Too late.”

  “Maybe.” Sensei Dan patted Owen on the shoulder. “There are plenty of fish in the sea. You’ll get a number next time.”

  Owen wondered if Sensei Dan was right. He wasn’t afraid to fight anymore but the thought of being rejected still pulled at his heart. Deep down he feared he wasn’t as brave as he pretended to be. At the end of the day he was still Owen Lamb.