I sit waiting for the text, eating at a noodle stand, as the owner once called it “a restaurant that had been in the family since 1992” a high claim to make considering it was 2552, and that there had been two previous world wars and the city demolished then rebuilt 200 years ago.
Neo Tokyo was a dump I thought as I glanced around at the streets. The building stood tall and the sky was filled with speeders and similar aircraft of all descriptions. One thing everyone knows about Neo Tokyo was that the lower you went the poorer and desperate you were. I nodded; in my case this was true. I do like a drink (or ten) and considering how often I get pulled over by the police I’m also apparently a rather disreputable looking individual. This wasn’t always the case; I once had both a lovely wife and an eight year old daughter both of which were taken from me in 2544, when there was an uprising of robots demanding equal rights. I had a loving family and within an hour they were all gone. Taken from me by those metal tin cans. I lost my job a month later, my ex-boss said it was because of the alcohol but I knew he was a robot sympathiser and wanted to give jobs to those soulless hunks of metal.
Suddenly there was a sharp dinging sound, I jump and hastily looked down. The message had arrived about my next cage fight which was according to the text at 8pm Earth standard time on the lower Sarcara Ward; an alley located in the Deshi District. I raised my eyebrow, perhaps there was a reason why people thought I was a disreputable man, that particular area wasn’t exactly an area noted for its high standing, class nor well anything of not. Except crime, prostitutes and lots of bars.
I took a look at the time, 6pm standard. I had two hours to get to the fight, if I left now; I thought I might be able to grab a drink on the way. I stood up, paid the old man and headed off in the general direction of the fight.
7:50pm Earth Standard.
I arrived at Sarcara with 10 minutes to spare, perhaps that stop for the drink might not have been the greatest of ideas. Nah, I made it, so no issues there.
“Feonix” I heard yelled from up ahead, “Feonix that you?”
I quickened my pace, “what?” I grunted, not particularly in the mood to make some small talk.
It was Boris. Boris the bouncer. No, not his real name – apparently that one is unpronounceable to human vocal cords. So someone called him Boris and well, it stuck.
“Time for your fight Feonix, go on in” Boris nodded towards the door. One thing I like about Boris, he’s definitely not one for small talk.
I entered the door and made my way down stairs to the fighting ring. I wasn’t even down to the bottom when the stench hit me, ahh the life of an underground cage fighter, the smell of dried blood, dirt, sweat and well, other gross stuff that I rather not contemplate.
