Animal

Break

A harsh stream of water shots up through the floor and towards the ceiling. I flip backwards to avoid it. The flow had enough pressure behind it to take off skin and break bones. I land in a crouch. I pant and stare ahead of me cautiously at the three spouts of violent water shooting upwards and disappearing into holes in the ceiling. I curse all of these people who find this enjoyable to hell.

As soon as I stand fully, the flow of water stops and a fist comes flying at my face. I twist to avoid and twist again to avoid the next stream of water I was sure was coming. Right on time, another rushing stream of water shoots horizontally into the opposite wall. My opponent barely stumbles back, but he does.

We stare at each other from opposite sides of the water. My opponent is a tall man with almond shaped eyes and sand colored skin. He's thin in a muscular way. But I don't give him too much thought, after all, I will have to kill him.

I comb my wet hair out of my face, managing not to scalp myself. I had gotten better at handling my claws lately.

"You have ten seconds to finish this, Scrappy." Ms. Adams voice fills my head over the sound of the rushing water. "Stop playing with him."

I grunt.

When the water stops flowing, I drop, and use my foot to sweep his legs from under him. As he goes down, I step forward and swipe my right hand across his neck. He's dead before he hits the ground.

"Excellent," Ms. Adams congratulates.

I wipe his blood from my face with a shaky, wet hand.

* * *

"So we're not doing the Victory Interview?" I ask her as we exit the arena, removing the now damp towel I had on my head. Outside there's a crowd of people being kept behind thick black iron barricades who shout, take pictures, squeal out questions at me.

I swallow my scowl of disgust, I ignore them. The faster I kill, the more brutal I am, the more blood there is, equals the amount of fans I have.

There are a few people further back on the crowds who weren't hurling gushed questions and asking for autographs, but were instead chanting out anti-Fight rhymes through microphones and holding up anti-Fight signs that read:

FIGTING IS DYING!

FIGTERS ARE HUMAN TOO! and

BETTING IS DESTROYING THIS NATION!

I ignore the Anti-Fighters too, I always do when they show up outside the Fights I do. I don't understand what they're trying to do, but I certainly agree with some of the things on their signs. Ms. Adams says to ignore them. Protesting wasn't exactly legal, but the authorities usually don't pay any mind to them until what they're doing causes a scene.

Ms. Adams' cane clicks across the pavement as we move to the awaiting car. The woman smiles. I frown. "No...No... I got some good news I must show Mr. Anderson right away, we're going to his office."

I don't say anything. We climb into the car and it pulls off towards the training center.

Thirty-minutes later we reach the training center, and head toward Mr. Anderson's office, Ms. Adams leading, me trailing behind. I say anything else, I don't talk much anymore.

"Mr. Anderson," the woman says as soon as we step into the room. She has a huge smile on her face, honestly, its a little alarming. I stand back as she approaches his desk. "You're going to want to look at this email, sir."

Mr. Anderson looks up (he hadn't acknowledged us when we walked in) and removes his glasses from his nose and looks up from a couple of papers on his desk. Ms. Adams slides her tablet across his desk to him. His dark gaze flickers over the screen before he looks up, smiles big, and he and Ms. Adams stare at each other. They stare at each other for so long, that for a second, I get the ridiculous idea that they are going to kiss flits across my mind. But then Mr. Anderson looks away and towards me.

"How did your fight go, Scrappy?"

I stiffen and glance nervously at the smiling Ms. Adams. My stomach churns with unease. "I...won..." I answer.

"Good...Good." He says.

Silence.

"When was the last time you had a break?" Break? What? I stare at him. He glances at Ms. Adams.

"She hasn't had one since the season started." She answers.

He nods and turns to me again. "Tell me, Scrappy, have you had a chance to explore the city yet?"

What?

"A week off?" He turns to Ms. Adams. She nods. "Give her money and let her explore, she's earned a week off. Now don't take my kindness for granted, Scrappy, I am still able to track your every move with the collar."

What?