Ethereal

The Martian Mauler

   It was late. The Professor had gotten me settled into his place which was actually a time machine. Yeah, that should come in really handy, only apparently it was not working now. We were both stranded here in the thirty-first century. He because of a malfunctioning time machine that had brought him from the future and I because of a malfunctioning cryopod that had brought me from the past. But apparently, we were both here for the same reason.

Our mission was clear. We had to stop New Life Labs from unleashing a zombie apocalypse. What was not clear was how to do this. We had no idea who or how many people at the lab were actually behind this or how to stop them. We only had one clue. Someone in the future had given The Professor a name. A name of someone who 'might' be able to help. You'd think the future could be more specific. Anyway, our first step was to find this person called the Martian Mauler.

We left the dysfunctional time machine and using the map I had been given, we found our way to the heart of South Lake Tahoe. It was now a crowded megacity combining what in my day were the two separate towns of South Lake and Stateline.

Things had certainly changed. All the buildings were more futuristic, yet the streets were dirtier and even the modern buildings looked old and in disrepair. The street was lined with towering multi-story casinos connected about every ten stories up by overhead moving walkways.

"How are we going to find this person?" I asked.

"How else, Ethereal? We simply start asking people." He laughed.

To my surprise, the first person we asked explained to us that in fact, the Martian Mauler was a well-known underground fighting champion. All we had to do was find out where the fights were being held and The Mauler would no doubt be there. Finding the fight location proved a bit more difficult, but as it turned out, the fight found us.

After several hours of futile searching, a guy you'd expect to find pissing on a city street approached us like a drunken cat about to pounce on a butterfly. "Hey, earthling. I hear you're looking for a fight."

"Actually, we're looking for the Martian Mauler." The Professor informed him.

The drunk looked me up and down and said, "Honey, you aren't ready for The Mauler. She'd chew you up and spit you out in the first round."

"I don't want to fight her. We just need to talk with her."

"Pfft," the drunk exhaled an alcoholic breath that could knockout an elephant. "You're an earthling. She ain't gonna talk to you."

"Why is that?" The Professor asked.

"You're kind o' stupid even for an earthling." The drunk remarked. Then he explained, "Man, she's a Martian. Martians got no use for earthlings. To them Earthlings are the villains. They're the reason Mars is not as popular as Earth. The only way The Mauler will talk to you is if you beat her in the ring. Even then make sure she agrees to it before you fight. If she agrees to it, she will do it. Unlike an earthling, she always keeps her word."

"That's good enough for me. Can you set the fight up for us?" I asked.

"Are you serious? She'll kill you," The drunk replied shaking his head.

"Can you, do it?" I repeated.

"Yeah, I can do it. I was sent to find a couple of rookies for the opening fight. Coming back with an opponent for The Mauler will get me a bonus. Everyone loves a good massacre!" He looked at me again and just shook his head. He handed us a card with the address. "Just be at this address tomorrow night at 10 p.m." As he left, he added, "And don't be late. You don't want to be late for your own funeral," he laughed.