• Woahhh
    I never give in
    Woahhh
    I never give up
    Woahhh
    I never give in
    I just wanna be, wanna be loved.
    --Wanna Be Loved    , Papa Roach

    Stay? Wait? The hell if I was going to do either. The trouble was I didn't know where they'd gone. I started down the street toward the bright cityscape of lights.

    People were moving up and down the streets, most in suits and veiled hats and dresses. I saw one guy dressed in normal clothes, sitting on a moped type thing. I went up to him.

    "Hey, do you know where the fight rings are?" He looked me up and down slowly.

    " I didn't take you for the fighting type." A moment later he had a sizable bump on his forehead.

    "Now?!"

    "Okay! Okay, sheesh, I'll drive you there."


    I pushed through the doors. A stadium's worth of sweats formed a square around where a ring would have been. Instead of a ring, a rail went around the edge of a pit. I moved forward, only to be filed into a ringside seat.

    The pit had a sandy bottom. The walls were sheer. Suddenly, a voice sounded over some com system: "Please take your seats. Bets are to be completed."

    Doors, unseen before, slid upward in the walls, leaving pitch sections. The crowd held its breath. Two shapes hurtled from the balckness, clashing and hurtling apart again. A scrawny, scarred boy was on the left, Gypsy on the right. Both were naked, except for Gypsy's tags. They circled each other, hands clawed, teeth bared, bent and snarling.

    The boy lunged forward. Gypsy twisted to the side, catching him by the hip and shoulder and yanking him up off his feet into the sand. Her teeth were on the back of his neck just as quickly. The crowd boo'd.

    Gypsy released the boy. He scrambled back through his door. A second door opened. Gypsy crouched down on her hands and feet. A large shape pounded through the opening. Gypsy tumpled in the sand with a huge, muscular male Dog. She snarled, clawing at his gut and snapping at either side of his face.

    He sat up, straddling her as he punched her in the face until she jerked up, slamming her palm into his nose. He jumped off, holding his face as blood oozed through the gaps between his fingers.

    She stood. Her left eye was beginning to swell. The male let out a yell, charging. She kicked at his side. He grabbed her leg, turning and throwing her across the ring. She rolled, digging into the sand and skidding to her hands and feet.

    The male towered over her, grasping her by the throat and slamming her into th wall twice. She hung there limply. I shuddered. Gypsy snapped her eyes open, raking her claws up the man's face. She landed in a crouch as he dropped her, pummeling him with punches and kicks.

    He moved back, then shifted his footing, avoiding the next punch and slamming his elbow into the back of her head. She stumbled, righting herself as he surged forward, plowing his massive shoulder into her back. She flew down into the sand, sliding a few inches and lying still, facedown. The man moved over to her side, turning her over with his foot. He leaned down and pulled Gypsy up by her hair.

    The voice came on again: "Let's listen in on the brutality." A huge screen on a long arm came down from the ceiling and turned on. Teh screen had a close up of Gypsy, as if the man had on a hidden camera--where to hide a camera on bare flesh I couldn't know. She was seated on his leg--he was kneeling--body leaned back--the camera view switched for a second to show his arms crossed over her back, fists clenched--panting raggedly, eyes half-lidded.

    The male's voice came over the speaker: "You really that weak? Can't do any better?" She let out a weak, breathy growl. "Let's take the last of that fight out of you then."

    He stood, pressing her tightly against his chest. She struggled, punching and grasping at his neck, kicking with her legs. The squeeze constricted, his arms parallel bars across her back--the camera mostly only showed the back view now. He sank his teeth into her breasts. She screamed, but it died into pained gasps as the vice of his arms tightened further. The kicking grew to taps, then stopped. She shuddered. He gave a final squeeze.

    "Oooohhhh..." The gasp came over the speaker. "I...I..." She rocked forward slightly. "I..." She slumped backward, her arms sliding off him, dangling in the air. "Ughhh..." The camera focused on her hands, trailing up her arms and hair before zooming out slightly to take in her face--eyes closed, mouth barely open--and breasts--crescent marks letting slip lines of blood like runny, red avalanches on mountains.

    The camera zoomed out, taking in Gypsy's limp form and the man's triumphant smirk.

    "It's a pity..." He bent his head, licking the blood off one of the bites. "...that someone so--" Gypsy had whipped her head up, slamming it into his. He jerked back, releasing her. She panted, a thin line of blood sliding down her face.

    "Gypsy!" I'd jumped out of my seat and slid under the rail. "Gypsy!" She turned to look at me and stared. Her eyes were wide and full of fear.