by Chad Leito
“I just wanted to kill him,” the hologram of Baggs said, looking straight at the camera.
Then, the HoloVision box showed Baggs punching the police officer in the Outlive office that morning. An unrealistic amount of blood sprayed from the officer’s nose as Baggs hit him. The hologram shifted to show Vinny Tartuga. He spoke in his nasally voice: “He came into the Outlive office of the Media Tower and got into a fight with the cop. It seems as though he was unprovoked. His name is James Baggers, he’s on the Boxers, and he’s completely insane.”
“I lost it,” Baggs’s voice said, and then the HoloVision Box showed a close up of Baggs and the cop. Baggs reared back, drove his fist into the police officer’s face, and the officer’s eyes rolled into his head after the impact. The crowd absolutely loved it, and the cheering became loud enough to injure eardrums.
The real Baggs’s face burned with embarrassment. He saw his teammates stealing glances at him out of the corner of his eyes. It was worth it, though, he thought to himself. I’m glad that I did the commercial. The CreditCoins will really help Tessa out.
Then, Vinny Tartuga’s face came on the HoloVision Box again. His skin looked sallow and sickly under the harsh light. “Who do I think the most formidable competitor will be in this episode?” his resounding voice asked, as though the hologram was speaking to an interviewer. “That’d have to be Chobb Lowe on the Pirates.”
Vinny’s face was now replaced with a man standing in his underwear. Baggs was glad that he hadn’t been asked to strip down for his commercial.
Vinny’s voice played as Chobb Lowe’s figure turned in the hologram displays. “He’s six feet three inches, and built like a bull. He’s a powerlifter. If he wouldn’t have gotten into trouble with the law, he would have been the world champion.”
Chobb Lowe’s figure was impressive. He had a small amount of fat lining his belly, but not much. Vinny hadn’t been exaggerating much when describing the man as looking like a bull. The hologram’s back bulged with muscles. Chobb had no neck; his enormous trapezius muscles were threatening to pass his chin. His forearms were as thick as some peoples’ thighs, and covered in hard vascularity.
“Wow,” Larry murmured.
The presentation went on like that, going through fifteen players with descriptions of why they were formidable from Vinny Tartuga (“This girl won’t be afraid to gouge eyes out”) and different contestants either standing in front of a camera, or reciting lines. None of the displays got nearly the response that Baggs’s did, which embarrassed him more.
The last competitor to be introduced to the audience surprised Baggs; it was the piercing-covered face of the woman sitting two places to Baggs’s left; it was the woman that he had noticed while the room was being elevated.
“Tonya Wolf,” Vinny Tartuga said over an image of the woman scowling. “She has killed fifteen people. She liked to kidnap them and cut their stomachs open. The court was lenient in granting her a chance to compete in Outlive; we lobbied hard for the opportunity to have her. We felt that her aggression would do well in the arena.”
The hologram of the woman spoke; her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “My name is Tonya Wolf.” Her eyes were flat, almost bored. “I like to watch people bleed. That’s why I cut open their stomachs. I like to watch people die, and I like for it to take a long time.”
This disturbing speech got as much applause as the shot of Baggs punching the police officer.
Then, the HoloVision Boxes went dark, and the blue light came back on in the room. An announcer’s voice came over the speakers: “Ladies, gentlemen, and competitors: Feel free to eat and drink what is set out on your tables. If you wave your hand, a drone will come over and assist you by retrieving more food or drink. Please note: While you are allowed to take pictures with the Outlive competitors, it is encouraged that you not get too close to the bars. Thank you.”
The announcer stopped speaking and the dining hall was quiet for a moment. After a short time, the sounds of conversations and the tinkling of silverware began to permeate over the space. Men and women were pouring glasses of wine and serving themselves from covered trays in the middle of tables.
Spinks uncovered the Boxers’ trays, revealing roasted herb chicken, crab macaroni and cheese, butter and garlic mashed potatoes, a cabbage salad with fruits and nuts, dinner rolls, and rolls of sushi atop an ice cold sheet of metal. Baggs began to eat with a mixture of delight and guilt. The food was even better than what he had had in Tartuga’s office. But it probably costs enough to feed a starving London family for a whole month.
Baggs listened to the English conversations taking place around him. When Emperor Daman’s predecessor, Pat Blue, took office forty years ago, he ordered that English be made the official language of New Rome. Citizens who were caught speaking another language in public were fined. As Baggs understood it, people used to speak French in Paris; now, this was a dying language. I bet that no one under the age of thirty-five can speak it fluently anymore. German and other languages were dying in the same manner. To Baggs, this was a tragedy. Possibilities for thought were expressed in language, and Baggs couldn’t help but think that each language must have its strengths.
He also thought that other cultures must have strengths, too, but Pat Blue had unified New Rome’s culture as much as possible. For example, he had brought all of the best baseball leagues oversea and completely done away with cricket. Pat Blue was from the United States, and when his forces began to take over New Rome, he didn’t want to learn new systems or customs. As another example, Pat Blue grew frustrated when he would go to purchase something in New Rome and the measurements were in the metric system, so he ordered that all New Rome measurements be changed to what was known as the U.S. Customary System. Pat Blue wanted people measured in pounds, and feet, and inches, and long distances expressed in miles instead of kilometers.
There was a jazz band playing music on a stage in the corner. Larry drank several cups of wine and started ranting about the government and how corrupt it was. This made Baggs uncomfortable, as there were council members present. Stairs were erected around the cages that held the contestants, and people came and stood in front of the bars to have their pictures taken in front of the Outlive participants. The Boxers cage was an especially popular place for people to take photographs. Looking around, Baggs noticed some more celebrities. The most famous was probably Nikki Wild, a musician who Maggie loved. Baggs spotted Bob Winters, the councilman who had bought Hailey Vixen as a prostitute. He was enjoying the evening with his wife and kids while Hailey was being gawked at behind bars.
Hailey Vixen attracted attention for two reasons; the first was that she was a celebrity, and the second was because she was unusually attractive. She kept her head down most of the night and did not smile, but she was unable to make herself blend in with the others. Her porcelain skin and golden hair were angelic. She was not able to cover up her eye-catching body because of the skimpy, tight black dress they forced her to wear.
Men whistled at her, and cat called; “Eyy, Bob told me you were easy!” “I’m a lawyer, not as good as a councilman, but you’ll do it for money, right?” Some even reached inside the bars, trying to touch her, but she was seated too far away for them to reach.
As it got later, more and more people got drunk. Baggs didn’t drink. He wasn’t especially opposed to drinking, but he didn’t want to muddy up his thinking process at a time like this.
One of the people who drank the most, though, was Modd Harvey, the best heavyweight boxer in the world. The man had a shaved head, diamond earrings, and shoulders that couldn’t be hidden beneath a suit jacket. He was known for his loud mouth and his aggression, both inside and outside of the ring.
He made it apparent what he wanted Hailey Vixen to do.
“Hey, honey, I know you’re locked up in there, but come over to the bars, sweetie.” That was the kind of thing he said at the beginning of the night, as he was still relatively sober. As the night wore on, h
e drank glass after glass of clear alcohol that was brought by a drone. The wine was free, but other drinks were not. Each time the drone came by, Mobb Harvey had to place his thumbprint on a pad to pay CreditCoins.
At first, Hailey Vixen ignored his calls, as anyone would do. But the calling became incessant. “You opened your legs to the Councilman, why not to me? Is it ‘cause of these bars. C’mere, we can get around them.” The call that made Hailey respond to Mobb was perhaps his thousandth that night. He was swaying on his feet, as though only one punch away from being knocked out. “Come here, you whore.” Mobb saw something on Hailey’s face and continued on. “Oh, what, you don’t like being called that?” A silent tear fell down Hailey’s face. She had been bombarded with comments all night while Bob Winters had a pleasant night out. “What? You don’t think you’re a whore? You think he loved you or something? You think he loved you more than that pretty wife of his. Sugar, let me tell you something, a lady like Michelle Winters is worthy of a man like that, okay? I mean, she’s got a personality, you hear? She’s able to talk to Bob, entertain Bob, and he needs that, okay, baby? She’s there for him. Then there’s you, and you’ve got a nice body and I’m sure he loved being with you, but he doesn’t want to be with you, you get what I’m saying? No one’s going to ever love you, sugar.” Tears were falling harder down Hailey Vixen’s face. Baggs wondered why Mobb’s current words were having such a strong effect. Maybe she has feelings for Bob Winters. Maybe she fell in love with him. Mobb began to call through the bars at her again. “So c’mon over here, sugar. He doesn’t love you. He won’t mind sharing. I ain’t gonna love you either, but you’re pretty. That’s all you were to him, don’t you get that?”
Hailey finally lost it. Her hands were trembling and she turned to Mobb and screamed: “SHUT UP!” A string of saliva ran from her bottom lip to her upper lip. Her scream was throaty and primitive, full of rage.
The smile dropped off of Mobb’s face. “Oh, sugar. Oh, sugar.” His voice was low. People at tables all around were watching him. If Mobb Harvey hated anything, it was being embarrassed. “I’m going to knock your pretty teeth out of your bitch ass mouth. C’mere!” He reached for her. His arms were longer than other peoples’, which was one of the reasons for his tremendous success in the boxing ring. Harvey almost reached the back of Hailey’s hair, but she leaned forward just in time. He grabbed the back of her chair and yanked it toward the bars, but she leapt out of it and onto the table, crying and spilling water, wine and food. She tried to pull her skirt down; down on her knees, it was very revealing.
“Stupid bitch,” Mobb said, and people gasped as he began to climb up the rods of the gate that enclosed the Boxers. For a man of his size, Mobb’s agility was counter-intuitive. He climbed with the ease of a chimpanzee, using only his arms. People shouted for him to get down. The rods swayed beneath his weight of two hundred and thirty pounds; not only was he bigger than Baggs, but he was leaner, too. Word spread among the crowd, and soon everyone in both the stadium seating and at the dinner tables were looking up at Mobb; some faces wore bored expressions, some were excited, some seemed apprehensive, but none of them went to get help.
They’ll let him beat her, Baggs realized. He looked at Hailey Vixen, still sobbing on the table. She appeared to weigh no more than one hundred twenty pounds. Mobb might even be allowed to kill her. Byron Turner probably wouldn’t mind having her replaced with someone bigger.
Mobb Harvey got to the top and began to roll over the bars into the Boxer’s cage. Please fall, please fall and break your cocky back, Baggs thought. But Harvey didn’t fall. Even drunk, he was extremely graceful. He made it over the top and then began to slide down on the inside with ease. Instinctually, all of the Boxers stood up and huddled in one corner to get away from the man; Hailey Vixen scooted off the table and filed in with her teammates. Harvey’s eyes were alight with a mixture of anger and pleasure.
Harvey made it to the ground. “Give me the whore and no one gets hurt,” he said. He was smiling. I don’t think he wants us to give up so easily. I think that he wants a fight.
People began to chant around the room, “Harvey, Harvey, Harvey!”
He waved at the crowd and they whistled and cheered some more.
Baggs thought, would it be worth it to try to defend her? Baggs was certainly no match for an athlete like Harvey, but maybe he could fight him off long enough for help to arrive. Baggs looked around. It didn’t look like anyone would help.
“Give me the whore,” Harvey said again. He took a fighter’s stance and began to step towards the huddled Outlive contestants. His eyes were red; his words were slurred. He was drunk with alcohol and in intolerable rage at being talked back to by a whore!
“Back off!” Hailey Vixen yelled, and Harvey zeroed in on her. He took four steps, pushed through the crowd of Boxers, and grabbed her by the hair. He threw her onto the table, back first, and began to climb on top of her, still smiling. The crowd loved this course of events. Harvey grabbed Hailey’s top, despite her screaming protests, and ripped it in half so that she was now partly exposed. He was laughing. She kept screaming and the crowd kept cheering.
Baggs felt sick.
Hailey’s eyes rolled in her head, looking around at the crowd. With the big man on top of her, pinning her down, she looked like a caged animal. Sweat glistened on her forehead. Tears ran down her cheeks. “HELP! HE-ELP!” she cried.
Without thinking about the consequences, or the Choke that was tightly wrapped around his neck, Baggs acted. He picked up one of the upholstered wooden chairs, held it high above his head, and brought it crashing down atop Mobb Harvey. A leg struck the back of the man’s head and cracked in half. Baggs thought that the blow would knock Harvey out. He was wrong. Harvey turned and sneered at him.
“Really, bitch?” Harvey said to Baggs. His diamond earrings sparkled in the light. So did his eyes.
Baggs thought about his Choke, and wondered why the security guards hadn’t used it to subdue him yet. They probably think that Harvey can handle me. Baggs tended to agree.
Someone in one of the tables below shouted, “Kill ‘im, Harvey!” Someone else shouted: “Teach him a lesson!”
The drunken athlete sprang off the table and was on his feet in front of Baggs. Harvey’s hands were as big as Baggs’s; Baggs had never encountered anyone else with such big hands. Harvey’s hands were lean and heavy with tight skin running over hard bone and muscle.
Harvey shifted his weight to punch Baggs in the face, but Baggs was ready for it. Adrenaline ran through him. Everything was in slow motion. Harvey’s left hand came soaring up towards Baggs’s chin, and Baggs put up his forearm to block the punch. Harvey’s left was an inch from connecting with Baggs’s forearm when something unexpected happened. The fist stopped in midair. Baggs had one slow moment of confusion and then realized, It was a fake punch. The realization came too late. The world-class right hook was a quick blur in his peripheries before slamming into his face with the force of a train. Baggs’s head snapped backward, and for a moment, everything was a blur.
I’m fighting a heavyweight-boxing champion, Baggs thought. And he’s going to make me pay for antagonizing him.
Three punches came up to Baggs’s stomach as fast as bullets from a machine gun. Baggs flexed his abdominal muscles, but it did little good. The wind was knocked out of him, and a searing pain radiated all the way to his back.
This is bad, this is bad.
If he’s this quick when he’s drunk, what must it be like to fight him when he’s sober?
Then came an uppercut to Baggs’s face. Again, his head snapped back. His nose ran with blood like it was a faucet. Harvey laughed and took a few steps backwards, readying himself for another flurry of punches.
Baggs had never fought someone so formidable. He looked over at his teammates, huddled in the corner by the bars. Hailey was in the middle of them, holding her ripped dress up so that it covered her body. Larry had his hand over his mouth and looked sick.
Maybe he doesn’t like blood, Baggs thought. Baggs’s nose was leaking substantially, and a small puddle was forming on the floor. It’s broken, he thought. Tonya Wolf, the murderer, still held an impassive look on her face, except there was now a twinkle of something different in her eyes—excitement, maybe? She did say that she liked blood. At the tables below, men, women and children alike were enthralled in the unexpected entertainment. They thought they wouldn’t get to see me injured for an entire week. It’s sick, but they probably feel lucky. Baggs scanned the perimeter of the bottom floor. There was a group of police officers in the corner, their eyes hidden by dark visors. They did not move. They leaned against the back wall, enjoying the entertainment like everyone else.
Baggs felt the surge of adrenaline wearing off. He was only able to utilize his peculiar, hormone-fueled strength for a short time, and then his body was tired. His arms felt heavy; his knees wobbled. He looked at Harvey, wondering what he could possibly do to avoid serious injury. How long will they let him punch me? Baggs wondered. Until I’m dead? Until my brain is bleeding? Will Tessa still get to keep the money if I die here instead of on the sand in the Colosseum?
Harvey took a step forward. He had a classic boxer’s-stance—elbows cocked, shoulders back, knees slightly bent and one foot in front of the other. That’s it, Baggs thought. He’s a boxer. He’s not a fighter, he’s a boxer. That was all he had time to think before the punches began to come fast and hard.
Baggs’s plan was to assail Harvey with attacks that would be considered illegal in a boxing ring. He hoped that Harvey would be taken off-guard and not know how to respond. He feared that Harvey would respond with cheap shots of his own, perhaps stomping on Baggs’s head until it burst open in a spray of blood and brains.
Harvey faked left again and then punched right. Baggs took a shot to the nose and the pain was incredible, unthinkable. He couldn’t stand it. His eyes filled with tears and his body surged with hate and rage. Stop hitting me! You started this! You were going to rape the girl!