FIGHT NIGHT…
The closer they followed the stream of prisoners, the louder the world became. L had stayed back, as a guard escorted her to show her the cell she would be in.
It wasn't cheering, it was something far more primal. A sea of screams. A roar that shook the walls themselves.
Brilliant white lights flashed endlessly somewhere below, illuminating the corridor every few seconds like distant lightning.
Shirley frowned. "…What is this place?"
Nobody answered.
The prisoners hurried faster.
They poured down a narrow concrete staircase boxed in by cold white brick walls stained with age and grime. The air became warmer with every step.
At the bottom…the hallway split.
To the left stretched a massive open room filled with shouting voices.
Straight ahead…another staircase descended even deeper.
The walls here changed.
Dark gray concrete. Covered almost entirely with faded posters. Half of them advertised previous Fight Nights.
The others…pinned-up photographs of naked women.
Some were ripped in half. Some had dried blood smeared across them.
At the bottom waited an enormous steel door. Its surface was dented inward near the handle.
As though hundreds of desperate people had kicked it over the years.
"…Okay…" Tucker muttered.
"I don't like this." EBS whispered.
Shirley swallowed. Then pushed the heavy door open.
Immediately, sound exploded. The newcomers physically recoiled.
The music alone felt like someone had punched them in the chest.
Bass shook the floor beneath their feet.
Bright stadium lights spun wildly through complete darkness, revealing the room only in violent flashes.
Each flash showed something different.
Hundreds… No. Thousands of prisoners packed shoulder to shoulder.
Guards drinking beside inmates. Tables where prisoners gambled away cigarettes, food, even bullets. Others traded knives. Homemade weapons. Medicine.
One man casually exchanged a revolver for three loaves of stale bread.
Women laughed beside armed guards as if none of this was unusual.
Smoke drifted through the ceiling. Blood stained parts of the floor.
This wasn't the prison. This was its heartbeat.
"…It's another world." Shirley whispered.
High above everything sat a colossal fighting ring. Raised nearly twelve feet above the crowd. Steel fencing surrounded it.
Fresh blood dripped through the gaps.
On the opposite side…two enormous tunnels.
One marked, "CHALLENGER."
The other, "SURVIVOR."
Nobody needed to explain what that meant.
"IT'S SO LOUD!" Shirley shouted.
"I CAN BARELY HEAR MYSELF!" EBS yelled back.
They were shoved from every direction. Someone laughed directly into Tucker's ear. Another prisoner nearly knocked him over.
"THAT'S WHY IT'S FUN!" Tongue grinned.
She grabbed Michonne's wrist. "C'MON!"
Before anyone could stop them, they vanished into the crowd.
"…SERIOUSLY?!" Michonne yelled.
Tucker spun around helplessly. "WHERE DID THEY GO?!"
"I DON'T KNOW!" EBS shouted.
Shirley sighed. "…We'll find them later."
Suddenly…everything stopped.
The music died. The lights dimmed. The roaring crowd gradually fell silent.
Thousands of prisoners looked toward the ring.
Using the opportunity, Shirley forced his way closer.
Elbows, shoulders.
People cursed at him. Someone threatened to bite him.
Eventually…the three reached the very front. The ring towered above them.
Two silhouettes stood beneath a single spotlight.
A voice echoed throughout the arena. "Ladies…" A pause. "…and Gentlemen…"
The arena erupted. "OF MYNISTRIA!!"
The cheering became deafening.
The announcer spread both arms dramatically.
"WELCOME…TO FIGHT NIGHT!!"
The lights exploded into life. Fire erupted from both tunnels.
The crowd screamed. "Here…" The announcer smiled. "…there are no prisoners. No guards. No kings. No slaves. Only flesh."
He pointed toward the ring. "In this ring…you earn respect, you earn fear…or you earn a grave."
The crowd laughed. "You may surrender." A pause. "…If your opponent allows it." Another pause. "…If WE allow it."
Thousands immediately began chanting.
"DEATH!"
"DEATH!"
"DEATH!"
The announcer laughed.
"If this crowd decides surrender isn't enough…" He pointed toward the audience. "…then the fight continues."
"Until. Someone. DIES."
The arena exploded again. "You may choose ONE weapon! No rounds! No mercy! No excuses!"
He grinned wider.
"There is only ONE RULE!" He slammed his fist against the railing. "SURVIVE!!"
The crowd roared so loudly the ring itself vibrated.
The three all stared in a mix of fear and dread for what was to come.
"Ladies and gentlemen…OUR FIRST FIGHTERS!"
The left tunnel burst open.
A massive bald prisoner stepped into the light.
His body looked carved from stone. Scars covered his chest.
In one hand…a brutal iron mace.
"CH17!"
The audience screamed.
The opposite tunnel opened. A lean older man emerged.
Missing two fingers.
Holding only, a spear.
"RN205!"
The bell rang.
Neither man moved, five seconds. Then ten.
Then, CH17 charged. The mace whistled through the air.
RN205 ducked.
The weapon smashed into the ring hard enough to splinter wood.
The old man countered instantly. His spear pierced CH17's shoulder.
Blood sprayed.
The audience roared.
CH17 didn't even flinch. He grabbed the spear…and yanked.
RN205 flew across the ring.
Before he landed, the mace crashed into his ribs. The sound of ribs breaking echoed. Several newcomers winced.
RN205 coughed blood. Still, he smiled.
He suddenly kicked sand from the ring floor into CH17's eyes. The giant staggered.
Blind. RN205 spun behind him.
The spear stabbed once. Twice, three times. Leg. Back. Neck.
The crowd was losing its mind.
CH17 finally caught him. One hand wrapped completely around the old man's throat.
He lifted him.
RN205 desperately stabbed the spear into CH17's stomach. Again, and again, and again.
Too late.
The giant slammed him into the ring three times with powerful blows.
The spear snapped.
RN205 couldn't stand. Blood pooled beneath him.
The announcer stepped forward. "DO YOU SURRENDER?!"
The old man looked toward the audience.
Then…slowly nodded. "…I surrender."
Silence.
The announcer raised one arm. "CROWD?!"
Tucker and EBs held their breaths. Shirley scanned the crowd frantically, awaiting the answer.
Thousands answered instantly.
"KILL HIM!"
"KILL HIM!"
"KILL HIM!"
Shirley's eyes widened.
RN205 closed his eyes. "…I understand."
CH17 lifted the mace. One swing. Darkness.
The arena erupted into thunderous applause.
"…NEXT!!"
The tunnels opened again, a young woman entered.
Barely older than Shirley. She carried two short daggers.
Across from her…an enormous man wearing chains around both fists.
No weapon. Just fists wrapped in steel.
The bell rang. Unlike before, neither waited. The girl sprinted first.
Sliding beneath his punch. One dagger sliced his thigh. The other buried into his side.
He roared. His fist crashed downward.
She rolled.
The chains shattered the wooden floor.
She used the broken boards. Running up them. Leaping.
One dagger slashed across his forehead. Blood blinded one eye.
The crowd chanted louder.
The giant laughed. "You've got spirit."
He grabbed one of the hanging ropes. Ripped it completely free.
Then swung it like a whip. The rope wrapped around her ankle.
She hit the ground violently.
Before she could recover, he dragged her across the ring. She stabbed the rope repeatedly.
It snapped.
She landed beneath him.
Without hesitation…she drove both dagers upward. One pierced his arm.
The other…his throat.
The arena froze. The giant stumbled backward. Blood poured between his fingers.
He looked at her. Smiled. Then collapsed.
Dead.
Silence.
For one heartbeat.
Then the arena exploded louder than before.
The young woman stood alone. Covered in blood that wasn't hers, breathing heavily.
The announcer laughed hysterically. "NOW THAT…"
He pointed at her. "…IS FIGHT NIGHT!"
The audience roared.
Shirley couldn't move.
EBS stared at the blood slowly dripping off the edge of the ring.
Nobody around them looked disturbed.
They looked…excited. Like they couldn't wait for the next match.
And somewhere inside that crowd, opponents were waiting.
The announcer's voice boomed through the stadium once more.
"AND NOW… A QUICK INTERMISSION FOR OUR FIGHTERS!"
The crowd answered with thunderous cheers.
Beer bottles clinked together. Cards were thrown across gambling tables. Music immediately roared back to life.
"USE THIS TIME TO DRINK, GAMBLE, FIGHT, KISS, STEAL, WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT!"
The arena exploded into chaos again.
Shirley remained frozen.
The fights still replayed inside his head. The sound of bones breaking. The cheering. The smile on the victor's face.
A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
He nearly jumped. "SHIRLEY!"
EBS was practically screaming to be heard over the music. "SHIRLEY! TUCKER'S GONE!"
His eyes snapped toward her. "WHAT?!"
"I TURNED AROUND FOR TWO SECONDS!" EBS replied.
"WHERE?!" Shirley asked.
"I DON'T KNOW!" EBS shouted.
Shirley's heart dropped.
Without another word, the two shoved themselves into the crowd.
Bodies slammed into them from every direction.
Someone spilled alcohol over Shirley's shoulder.
Another prisoner laughed hysterically as two guards arm-wrestled on top of a gambling table.
Women danced beside armed soldiers as if this were some twisted celebration instead of a prison.
"TUCKER!"
No response.
"EBS, CHECK OVER THERE!"
"I'm trying!"
Minutes passed.
The music only became louder. Then Shirley spotted something familiar.
A table surrounded by drunken prisoners and guards.
Tongue stood on top of it. "…She's dancing."
EBS blinked. "…Why is she dancing?"
Shirley rubbed his forehead. "…I don't even want to know."
They forced their way toward the table.
Michonne noticed them first. She looked completely exhausted. "There you two are."
Shirley stared. "…This is where you disappeared?"
Michonne pointed toward Tongue. "I didn't disappear. She grabbed me."
Tongue raised an empty glass into the air. "ANOTHER!"
A nearby guard happily refilled it.
Tongue immediately downed the entire thing. "…WOOOOOO!!"
She slammed the glass onto the table.
"The fights…" She pointed toward the arena. "…ARE AMAZING!"
"…She's drunk." Shirley muttered.
Michonne sighed. "Very."
Shirley looked around frantically."Forget that. Have either of you seen Tucker?!"
Michonne's expression immediately changed. "…No."
Tongue blinked several times.
Then let out an enormous burp. "…He's a…" Another hiccup. "…Fight Night…"
Silence.
Shirley stared. "…What?"
Tongue nodded confidently. "…Yep." Another pause. "…He's definitely…"
She pointed somewhere into the distance. "…One of those."
Everyone looked where she pointed.
"…Those what?" EBS asked.
Tongue frowned.
"…The…"
"…Fight…"
"…Night."
Michonne pinched the bridge of her nose. "I cannot believe I'm translating this."
She looked at Shirley. "She's saying Tucker's probably in the fighters' changing rooms."
"…Changing rooms?" Shirley asked.
"He was challenged. He has to report before the match." Michonne pointed toward one of the two enormous tunnels opposite the arena. "See that tunnel marked SURVIVOR?"
Shirley followed her finger.
Above one entrance hung a massive steel sign.
"SURVIVOR."
Shirley felt cold. "…Why…"
Michonne answered before he finished. "One tunnel is for those who were challenged, the other for the challengers."
Silence.
EBS swallowed. "…That's messed up."
Michonne didn't disagree.
"If Tucker's anywhere…he's in Survivor."
The moment Shirley heard enough…
He ran.
"WAIT!" EBS shouted.
But she'd already lost him in the ocean of bodies.
"…Great." She sighed.
Shirley pushed through the sea of prisoners.
Past gambling tables. Past roaring crowds. Past guards exchanging stacks of money over betting slips.
One conversation caught his ear.
"I'm putting everything on Long-Brow CH2. Sixteen million. He won't lose. I heard doesn't even struggle."
Another man laughed. "Poor kid."
Shirley clenched his fists. "…Tucker…"
He ran faster.
Eventually…he reached the entrance.
Two guards stood outside the Survivor tunnel.
Neither was paying attention.
Both were flirting with two women leaning against the wall.
One of the guards laughed. "You seriously think he survives tonight?"
The woman shrugged. "Crazier things have happened."
While they laughed…
Shirley slipped inside.
The music disappeared almost instantly.
Every step deeper into the tunnel made the cheering outside sound farther away.
Until…there was only silence.
Heavy silence.
The smell hit first. Blood. Old blood. Fresh blood. Disinfectant desperately trying to hide it. Rust, sweat.
The walls were concrete. Dark stains covered portions of them. Some looked years old.
Others, still glistened.
Metal lockers lined both sides. Benches. Discarded bandages. Broken weapons tossed carelessly into bins.
Someone had written names into the walls. Some were crossed out. Some ended with dates. Others ended with one word.
"DEAD"
Shirley slowed. "…What is this place…"
Somewhere ahead…a faint light spilled into the hallway.
He took another step.
Then, a powerful arm wrapped around his neck. Cold steel pressed against his throat.
His heart stopped. "…Don't." A woman's voice.
Cold. Steady. "…Move." The dagger dug slightly into his skin.
Shirley slowly raised both hands. "Woah…easy…"
"I said…" Her grip tightened. "…Who are you?"
Shirley winced. "Didn't you say 'Don't move?'"
Silence.
Then, "…Cute."
Her voice became even calmer. "…Your family will be asking the same question after I castrate you and stitch it to your forehead."
The blade pressed harder.
"…Last chance. Who…are…you?"
A bead of sweat rolled down Shirley's neck. "…Okay, …okay! My name's Shirley."
A pause. "…Shirley Beaupre. Still getting used to saying it."
The pressure eased.
"…Beaupre…" The woman whispered. "Thats your real name?"
Something about the question caught Shirley off guard.
But he didn't hesitate. The instant the knife loosened, he moved. His shoulder twisted underneath her arm. His hips dropped.
One hand trapped her wrist. The other struck her elbow. The dagger flew from her grasp.
It clattered across the floor. Before she could react, Shirley spun behind her.
He was slightly taller than her. Then, he pinned both wrists above her head against the concrete wall.
Breathing heavily. "…There." He exhaled. "…Now we're even."
Silence.
The woman didn't struggle. Instead…she smiled.
Only her teeth were visible in the darkness. "…Fast." She chuckled quietly. "…I like fast."
Shirley's grip tightened. "…Who are you?"
The woman slowly lifted her head.
Her blue eyes finally caught the light. And she smiled wider.
"…Now…"
she whispered,
"…that's a much better first question."