Thousands of years after Earth became uninhabitable, humanity colonized other planets and moons around the solar system. Amid rising crime rate, the Galactic Space Force (GSF) set up a legal contract where registered bounty hunters (known as Coyotes...
Beltan News:The annual Miss Asteroid Belt will start soon. The top five competitors from each asteroid colony will compete in the final show in Goldhand for three nights with the winner announced at the end. Who will win? Place your bets folks, as we're about to crown the most beautiful woman in the asteroid belt.
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Everything moved in slow motion: the heavy breaths, the racing hearts, then things returned to normal with exploding cheers. Patrick never thought he'd love this sort of thing, but once he experienced it, he never wanted to let go.
Holding his clenched hands forward, Patrick waited for his opponent to strike first. He had all the time on the asteroid—the ring was his oyster.
It was only round one, and there were over two minutes left. He had let his opponent go at him for the last three minutes while he evaded the punches with ease—even dancing at some point, which made the crowd roar with delight. This was his system now. It was what they built him to do. He hated it took a dysfunctional emotion-chip for him to realize it.
"Finish him! Finish him! Finish him!" the crowd chanted from the stands.
He was an entertainer now, and he'd do what his fans asked. He hadn't earned the nickname "P-Dizzle" for nothing.
Dicklaus, his opponent, charged at him, anger spewed on his face as he used to be a fan favorite until when Patrick arrived. He advanced with quick speed, but it didn't intimidate Patrick. He had fought better-skilled boxers, stronger boxers, more intimidating boxers—and he had won.
Dicklaus was nothing but a nuisance Patrick wanted to put behind him. The synth had been talking shit behind his back, saying he could beat "P-Dizzle" with his eyes closed. And yet, there they were, in the ring together, and he had his eyes wide open.
Patrick evaded the first three punches by leaning sideways, then dodged the next six by leaning back while taking quick backward steps. Dicklaus looked tired and lazy—he was running out of charge. The crowd realized it too and stood, chanting louder than before.
"Let's go, P-Dizzle!" They clapped five times. "Let's go, P-Dizzle!" Hundreds of thousands of fans chanted his nickname, bringing euphoria to Patrick. This was what true happiness was, and he wanted nothing else.
Dicklaus swung an arm. Patrick blocked it. He swung his other arm. Patrick stopped it too. Then Patrick spun, hitting Dicklaus' cheek with the back of his fist.
The crowd oouued, then started stomping their feet on the stadium's floor. They knew it was coming. Electricity ignited in the air, giving Patrick an orgasmic feeling. He moaned, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head for a few seconds. When he focused back on Dicklaus, the synth was dizzy, swaying sideways, unable to maintain his balance.
Patrick stepped back, then dashed forward with incredible speed that none of his opponents had stopped. When he was close to Dicklaus, he drew his arm back, then pummeled his fist on Dicklaus' chest, pulverizing him in half.
