Chapter 7: Tenderized

“Bransen?” a voice called out to him. “Bransen?”

It had been the next day. The arena floor was set once again. Both Bransen and Saburo were walking down the route that led to the center stage. Everything was ready, but the nearby voices were so distant. The outside darkness of the audience made him feel isolated and alone. Yet, his mind was everywhere but there.

“Bransen!” Saburo slapped his back. “Are you there?”

“Yeah ... yeah,” Bransen replied, snapping out of it. They arrived by the stage.

“You doing alright?”

Bransen shook his head. “Just ... I’ll be fine.”

“I hope you are. Farien’shar is beyond dangerous,” Saburo told him. “She has some of the highest kill counts in the tournaments. If you’re scared, it’s alright to be.”

“Yeah...” He took a deep breath.

“Hey ... you can do this,” Saburo consoled him. “You took on a Shal’rein, and you can take on another. Besides, maybe you can take advantage of that newfound discovery of yours. Use that to your advantage.”

“It’s just a matter of getting in and doing it.”

“Remember, it’s her unpredictability that allows her to win the fights. It’s why they call her the ‘Fin of Chaos.’”

Bransen nodded as he passed the doctor, who was already seated next to the table. He climbed up onto the stage. Once again, he put his mind at ease, but this time, a lot was in the way. Too many things were distracting him, and those distractions were two names.

“Our fighter has returned back to the stage, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said. His voice filled out into the stage. “Bransen is going to have another tough one for today. From his coach, Bransen had to take a break for a day to prepare for the next set of fights, and from what I can tell, he will need it. For he’s going to take on ... oh, there she is.”

Bransen could see her enter the other entrance. A Shal’rein emerged, but she was nothing as the man had ever seen. She was a subspecies of Shal’rein that couldn’t be compared with the rounded or pointed noses that so many Shal’rein had. This one was different. She could be described as a goblin shark that walked on two legs. Her skin was light blue. She was a little bit shorter than most Shal’rein at about 7 feet in height. She had fin-like ears but a long top pointed nose. It protruded like a horn that faced directly forward. She was in no way hideous. Her breasts were nearly flat, with the hint of a light bulge between her legs. She wore a single-piece purple sports dress with a set of unfamiliar Itreans words on it. However, there was a series of unsettling things about her. Around her neck was a collar device of some sort. It was dark blue and big enough that it almost made it look like a neck brace of some sort. She was also somewhat skinny, much like Nir’vina was. She walked and sauntered to the stage. However, Bransen was well aware of the dangers that he faced. This Shal’rein almost seemed possessed in how she moved. At times, she was like a zombie; other times, it was with purpose.

The other Itrean that walked beside her was a Yutilian. She was short, even for a Yutilian. Her large feathers and wide white clothes almost seemed to symbolize status. However, unlike the creepiness of the Shal’rein, the Yutilian was nonchalant. In her hands was a set of open tilons. She was easily walking and reading at the same time. Bransen already knew her as the “caretaker,” but there didn’t seem to be any indication that she was one at all. Even in the very beginning of seeing her, a look of disgust filled the man’s face. This Yutilian never spoke to the other. She didn’t even bother to look at her. It reminded Bransen of a person back at home that was busy looking at their tablet. If they weren’t careful, they would literally run into something, where they would shake it off, keep walking, and then repeat the incident all over again.

“Golarren!” One of the audience members screamed.

“Golarren Click Fija...” Another said.

The word ... Golarren. Bransen didn’t know what it meant. That couldn’t have matched what Saburo told him.

“Saburo?” Bransen questioned him. “What does that mean?”

“I ... think it’s a bad word. Slang for ‘Freak,’ I think.”

That couldn’t match where this Shal’rein was supposed to come from. What Saburo had briefed to Bransen showed Farien’shar as an Incindian. They were known as the ice-sharks, a possible descendant of the Goblin Sharks of former Earth. Her family must have moved to T’rintar space where she was born, but the words that the audience was spouting were sickening. They weren’t cheering her. They were calling her names and yelling obscenities.

“What the hell?” Bransen said.

“And here comes Farien’shar,” the announcer explained. “Oh ... and from where I can hear, it seems that the audience is spouting words that might push the censor boards to a whole new level.”

“Bransen, remember what I told you,” Saburo said. “Farien’shar’s strength is her speed and unpredictability. Try to take your time, and don’t let her overwhelm you.”

“He ... ng ... he...,” an unknown mumbling of grunted words came from Farien’shar. A little bit of drool fell from her mouth as the other Itreans continued to degrade her. However, Farien’shar seemed to ignore it. In fact, if anything, she might not have even been aware of it. Finally, she reached the edge of the arena. Her body would contort as if she were possessed. Her caretaker bared no care as she sat down near another table. She paid no attention to the Shal’rein.

“What is this?” Bransen asked under his breath. Farien’shar looked at the edge of the arena. She was breathing heavily before she slapped the edge and did a jump roll before standing to face the man on the other side of the stage. Her eyes weren’t looking at him but at the floor. Her pointy nose was directed away from him. The man felt his adrenaline pick up more and more as he swallowed hard. Farien’shar was nothing in the raw strength of Girsha’lar. However, she had a more frightening appearance, almost as if she were a monster ready to pounce on her prey.

“Bransen!” the Kop’ak called out from her table. Bransen looked up to face her. “You face Farien’shar. Are you ready?”

It was now or never. He summoned the courage. “Yes,” he replied to her. “I am.”

The Kop’ak’s face turned to look at Farien’shar before it turned to look at the caretaker. She began to say several words in the Itrean language. However, Bransen noticed that Farien’shar said nothing in response. The caretaker simply looked up from her tilon for a brief few seconds. Then, she gave a quick nod before looking back at her tilon.

“They didn’t even ask her...,” Bransen said to himself. “They always ask the fighter if they’re ready.”

“I don’t know what to say, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said. “I don’t know too much about Farien’shar except that a few reports of her danger. She has led to the highest level of fatalities in the arena. It seems that Bransen is ready, as Farien’shar’s caretaker has given the thumbs up that the fight is good to go. I don’t know if I have the stomach to watch this fight, folks, but I know that if Bransen could beat Girsha’lar in the fight a couple of days ago, then he could win this one.”

The lasers on the stage posts activated. The boundary had been established. Bransen hadn’t assumed a fighting stance yet. However, he could sense that somebody else was watching. He lightly turned his head and thought that he saw a gray and orange Shal’rein were observing him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to trigger where exactly they were watching from.

“He ... ng ... Hehhh...,” Farien’shar grunted again. Her breathing froze for a moment. Her head remained still with only her eyes that moved to look at Bransen. It was as if the man was looking into the eyes of a psychopath. It was devoid of happiness or any emotion. The blue Shal’rein’s finned arms twitched and furled a little bit as she kept her staggered stance. Her finned tail moved and switched to the other side while keeping her statuesque form. It only made the man more unsettled. At least Girsha’lar was just rage. This time, it was like looking into a void of madness.

And perhaps, that was exactly what it was...

A flash erupted from the Kop’ak’s gloved hand. Then, everything fell into silence as Bransen assumed a fighting stance.

“And the fight has begun!” the announcer said. “And ... looks like both fighters are just standing there staring at each other ... uh ... I think Farien’shar is staring at him. I can’t tell from...”

Farien’shar remained still. Her eyes continued to look from her cocked head. Finally, one foot went forward. Bransen was watching for anything that she was preparing to do.

Her webbed foot was placed forward as she took a step toward the man. However, she remained exactly in the same stance. Her arms were down, and her head was looking in the same direction. She was continuing the zombie-like movements. Her breathing was picking up.

“Come on...,” Bransen said to her. “Fight me.”

Her charging at him would have made things easier than having to stand the creepiness of the Shal’rein before him. But, again, she took a step forward. Nothing else in her body had moved but her legs. Her breathing and mild grunts in her voice were the only sounds being given off.

“Looks like Farien’shar is just inching her way to Bransen,” the announcer said. “I’ve ... never seen anything like this before in a fight. Is she trying to scare him?”

“He ... ng ... heh ... heh,” Farien’shar grunted. A hint of a smile appeared on her face. She took another step towards him. The man was on an all-time alert for any action that she may take. However, even in this, he wasn’t prepared for it.

“She’s just trying to scare you,” Saburo told Bransen. “But don’t let her try to get the upper hand.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Bransen said under his breath. Farien’shar made another step. Her stance remained the same.

He did his best to read her movements, but it was difficult. Her actions seemed all but inhuman. Finally, her head turned and cocked back to normal. The pointed top nose was directed at him. Her eyes showed a look of happiness and, ultimately, rage.

“He ... heh ... heh, heh, heh, heh ... errgh...” Her breathing got louder to the point that it became voiced grunts. Her chest would heave as her lungs rapidly expanded and deflated from the air that entered and exited her. For a brief moment, the man thought that she was going to hyperventilate. However, all it did was show him that Farien’shar was nothing but a sample of derangement. Finally, she stopped, and her body remained calm. This was her dance, and now she was going to carry it out. It was at this moment that Bransen knew he was in grave danger. He had seen his share of fights. But each was different.

Farien’shar took another step forward, and yet, she still never raised her arms. Her movement was slowly bringing him closer and closer. She finally said one word: “Menf’to’ka...” Bransen had just enough knowledge of the Itrean language that he recognized it. It meant “To play...”

“Come on!” He said. “Let’s get this over with.” Bransen had his right arm held back. However, at this moment, the deranged woman quickened her movements. She was now a mere five feet from him before she stopped. Her breathing had slowed. Her eyes peered into his very soul.

“He ... he ... heh...,” a mild silent laughter came from under her breath.

“Fuck...” Bransen said to himself. Her body was still as she continued to look at him. It was said that the body was the intent, but the eyes were the windows of the soul. The man felt like her shark-like eyes were nothing but bottomless pits. Farien’shar was there, but she wasn’t there. Her mind didn’t know what law and order was. Perhaps she was a victim of her birth or the society that made her this way. But there was no room for pity. The man’s heart was pounding as she remained still. However, there was still movement from her body despite how much she tried to stay still. Her head returned to the odd angle. Her eyes even veered and looked at the floor.

“Looks like ... she’s just standing there,” Hudson said. “Both sides still haven’t thrown a fist at one another. This might just be another ploy to get Bransen to lower his guard.”

What do I do? Bransen was thinking hard as his adrenaline was in full swing. A thrown fist or attack would do wonders instead of this attempt at scare tactics. The man had to act. She could wait in this position, but eventually, somebody would have to attack first. His response time was already short enough as it was.

“I don’t know what to say, Bransen,” Saburo told him. “I think she’s waiting for you to attack.”

“I ... can’t just stand here,” he replied back.

“I know ... but ... I’ve never seen this from the reports. She’s just...”

Unpredictable ... Saburo didn’t have to finish it. Bransen already knew. He had to deliver the first strike. Maybe it would catch her off guard in that empty head of hers. His eyes briefly saw the caretaker that was still looking at her tilon. Not a single act on her part. Finally, Bransen knew he had to act. This was a fight, and eventually, the Kop’ak would grow impatient. It would end in a draw if nothing happened, and nobody would get a point. The desire to win and end it sooner was finally present.

Bransen said nothing as he ran forward. He closed the gap as quickly as possible. He swung his left hand in a quick jab toward her neck.

Grab ... Farien’shar had managed to grab Bransen’s left fist in the air. However, the man threw his right arm. The more powerful arm would close into the face faster and faster. The glowing blue luminescence was present. Suddenly, Bransen saw the light blue whirl. Farien’shar’s left arm had quickly encircled, grabbed, and misdirected the shot. Before the man knew it, the Shal’rein had both of his arms.

Her eyes turned to look at him. The man watched in horror that he was almost helpless to the point that he forgot to throw a kick. However, Farien’shar also held back. Bransen was pulling his arms away, but they weren’t moving.

Her head turned so that her pointed nose was above his head. Her mouth and eyes could be clearly seen. Finally, she slowly opened her mouth.

“nnnnnghhhahhhhhhhhHHHHHH!” She screamed at his face for six seconds. It started as a low grunt before it turned into a long, deepening roar before reaching the highest-level pitch. It was deafening as the man could smell the sour breath from her mouth. She resumed the scream until her lungs ran out of air. In all that moment, she never did anything else but held him.

She had him, and Bransen was well aware of this after her banshee-like scream. Her breathing picked up. For a second, the man thought she would raise, open her mouth, and bite into him. However, she did nothing of that at all. He was preparing to do a right kick into her before she shoved and let go of him. He was flung and staggered back into the pole of the arena stage.

And once Bransen’s back hit the pole, did the man know that the fight had truly begun.

“Fight her, Bransen!” Saburo yelled out. “Throw everything you got!”

The man knew that Farien’shar was insane. In the briefest of moments, she could have bit him, struck him, or something else, but she simply grabbed and shoved him away without utilizing her clear advantage. But Bransen couldn’t give up.

Suddenly, he saw the movements. Farien’shar lifted her left arm back and into the air, closed the gap, and swung in a wide arc toward the man’s face. It was clearly avoidable as the man leaped to the left and threw his right arm to deflect some of the blow. She did nothing to lift her right arm to block him as the man threw a left jab into her chest. Instead, the punch did nothing. Flesh impacted against the flesh, causing no damage.

Bransen recoiled back to gather his senses and prepare to throw his offense.

“Heh ... heh ... he, he, he,” she laughed. Her movements were increasing. Sometimes she would saunter or wiggle at a quickened pace. She was clearly faster than Girsha’lar, which made her even more dangerous. She was the right combination of speed and power.

“I can’t believe it,” the announcer said. “Farien’shar stopped Bransen’s attacks and shoved him. She’s trying to press her attack ... She’s like a madwoman out there.”

Bransen tried to strafe to the left, but Farien’shar simply closed in on him. Her arms would be held down as she quickened her pace. The same look of delusion was on her face. Instead, Bransen reversed course and went into her, hoping to catch her off guard. He had the idea of preparing a kick. Instead, when she got close enough, she raised both her hands into the air and drove the fists toward his abdomen in an attempt to deliver a crushing blow at his hips.

The man did his best. He used both arms outward to block the shots. While his left arm would barely resist the hit, Bransen took his left leg and threw everything he had into a kick. The right arm held perfectly, but her right fist pushed into his waist as the human kicked. His foot felt flesh. There was enough force to inflict a minor amount of hurt on her, but it was barely noticeable. Instead, Bransen only saw the incoming right leg from her. It came in fast, straight towards his left hip.

BAM! The kick slammed into Bransen’s hip. While the left arm buckled, it actually managed to absorb some of the kick. His elbow helped save him, but the force of the impact was incredible. He felt himself being shoved hard to the right. The man quickly held out his arms and caught the pole to swing himself from flying over the stage.

“Ack ... She’s too fucking fast,” Bransen said to himself. He briefly looked back at Farien’shar.

“aaahhHHH!” She made another scream at him, but it was shorter. A maniacal laughter could be heard in her voice.

“Oh, I don’t know how Bransen is still standing after that one,” the announcer said. “Farien’shar is ... I can’t get a gauge on her. She’s fast and using it to her advantage to kick Bransen almost out of the arena stage.”

What was the man to do? Bransen didn’t know. Even if his elbow saved him, he could still feel pain from that region. Farien’shar was the perfect adversary. By now, Bransen saw that she was equally as fast as Yutilians and Aksren could achieve. However, it was the combination of her extra strength that made her beyond dangerous. The only hope that Bransen could hope was to simply meet power with power. Close in and engage in a slugging match. She was already capable of kicking him. Another one like that, and he would be in the medical ward. He had to prevent that from happening again. There was only one way that he could win this fight...

He watched as Farien’shar closed in near the laser fence. The man waited till she got close enough and then swung around the pole directly into her. Again, she lowered her arms as if she were utterly helpless. It was Bransen’s goal to be as close as possible. The threat of being caught in a bear hug was likely, but it would at least mitigate the possibility of those kicks. He did a quick jab at her face. However, she did something that the man wasn’t hoping she would do. Her mouth opened, and she bit into the man’s fist. Razor sharp teeth cut into his flesh. As pain screamed in Bransen’s mind, his right arm glowed. It was thrust straight towards the Shal’rein’s left finned ear.

However, she almost anticipated this. Bransen’s determination was met with sheer pain as the augmented arm was getting closer and closer to her head. It never even got close.

“AHH!” Bransen screamed. Farien’shar had used her speed to grab and shove the man’s hand away from her ear. It scrapped the top of her pointed top nose before she neatly wrapped the augmented arm. She let go of her bite, spun, and used her tail to sweep the man up into the air. Using her strength, she took quick hold of the man’s arm and swung hard. Bransen was sent airborne. He felt like he was on her back for a second, but his world had gone upside down. Suddenly, he was flung onto his back onto the arena stage floor.

WHAM! Bransen’s body smashed into the floor with a hardened slam. The pain was everywhere. Nerves took a direct stun as the force was sent about. Then, in Farien’shar’s madness, she let go of the man, and he was sent tumbling near the stage edge.

“Ah! AHH!” Bransen screamed. So much was happening at once. In the briefest of seconds, he saw blood coming from his left hand. His augmented right arm was almost torn from its socket. His back and spine took a direct hit. However, he still had enough motor function to crawl and work past the laser fence. He saw the edge and tumbled over, almost in a mad rush to escape Farien’shar.

“Oh! In Gabatrix’s mercy!” Hudson said. “Farien’shar bit and threw Bransen almost off the stage. He’s just fallen off!”

THUMP! Bransen felt his body impact the ground. He looked up to see that the caretaker was still seated. She hadn’t even as much as glanced at the man. The lack of attention from her eyes was beyond reprieve. Pain echoed through his body, and it was becoming evident that the fight was becoming a lost cause. Should he give up?

No ... Bransen had to stand up to this. Even if this was a fight that he was destined to lose, he had to do one thing and one thing only. He summoned the strength, pushed himself up, and approached the table.

With his augmented arm, Bransen swung down upon the table. The caretaker moved her hands and tilon closer to her chest before the impact. She still didn’t glance at him.

CRASH! Bransen’s augmented arm smashed into the edge and supports of the table. The odd polymer was quick to fracture. He lifted his arm and brought it down again. Finally, the table snapped into pieces as the caretaker stood up and walked away, continuing to read her tilon.

“I ... need this,” Bransen said. “You don’t mind, do you!?”

She ignored him. The man plucked the metal table leg and used his augmented arm to quickly fashion it into a metal pipe. However, by the time he succeeded, he heard the stomping crash of Farien’shar. She had finally hopped down to face him. Bransen switched the pipe to his left hand.

“Looks like Bransen is making use of the table leg to give him a leg-up in the fight, no pun intended,” the announcer said. “Let’s hope that it’s enough.”

It probably wasn’t, but for Bransen, it was the only hope of winning. Raw adrenaline was keeping his body afloat and operational. However, the pain was still clouding the man’s judgment. More blood was falling from the man’s left hand, dripping upon the floor. He quickly withdrew to the other side of the arena and leaped back up to the arena stage. Farien’shar was slow and methodical in her approach. She knew that she could win this fight. Her eyes saw the man as he worked his way back upon the stage.

This would be the man’s last stand. Bransen stood in the center stage, pipe in his left hand and a flickering augmented right arm. He watched as the Shal’rein woman climbed and rolled back up onto the stage.

“Bransen,” Saburo told him. “You have the right to give up. There’s no shame in that.”

It wasn’t vanity or ego that stood in the way of Bransen’s desire not to give up. It was something else. Deep down, a part of him had to fight to the bitter end. Too many times had the humans had to give up against the Itreans. He knew that he was able to beat a Shal’rein in a fight. Maybe he could overcome Farien’shar. However, the Itreans were combative people, adept and resourceful in overcoming any obstacle in their way. There was the principle in winning this fight. A message had to be delivered to the UWA that humans could win against the opposition. There had to be hope.

Unfortunately, even his mind had to make up and tell him that the fights wouldn’t always be in his favor. It was about winning the war and not trying to win every battle. In his peripheral vision, he could see Girsha’lar and Nir’vina staring at him. He beat Girsha’lar. He couldn’t surrender. He had to impress her, even more so than ever before. Why did he feel that way? Because he knew that he was attracted to her.

Here, Bransen’s heart told him that he had to press forward. Logic would lose the match in his mind.

“Looks like Bransen’s coach is encouraging, Bransen to give up,” the announcer explained. “I can’t say that I blame him. I can see the injuries from here. Bransen is bleeding and having a hard time remaining still. Looks like his augmented arm is barely working. Farien’shar is just an absolute terror on the arena floor. Remind me never to get on her bad side, ladies and gentlemen.”

The Kop’ak had her hands pressed together. She remained nonchalant as the fight continued. Finally, however, she seemed a little bit ready to call any action that was needed. Bransen readied himself and made one last attempt to fight her.

“He ... he ... he, heh,” Farien’shar chuckled to herself. With metal pipe in hand, Bransen swung hard from his left. The Shal’rein’s right arm blocked the blow, although the metal did smack flesh and bone. Bransen swung with an augmented arm towards her chest. However, she blocked and deflected the shot. She seemed to remain on standby as blow after blow was tossed at her. Bransen was throwing everything that he had in this last-ditch effort to win. It was almost as if the pain had never existed in her world.

“Bransen is wailing on Farien’shar!” the announcer explained. “She’s almost acting like the makeshift weapon is doing nothing to her. Is she just toying with him? Is she even taking any damage at all? She’s not even fighting back!”

She was just taking the hits. The crazed smile remained. Her right arm showed signs of bleeding and heavy bruising from the multiple impacts. Her left arm continued to block the blows. Bransen knew he had to take advantage of her intention not to fight back. However, it was evident that he was wearing out. Maybe that was her plan all along. Perhaps her deformity or whatever she had made her immune to pain. Maybe she was simply disconnected from reality to the point that she couldn’t tell the difference. The man had no choice. He pulled his metal rod back and tried to stab into her.

“No, Bransen!” Saburo yelled out. He saw it immediately.

Grab! ... Farein’shar snatched the rod and yanked it towards her. It sent Bransen forward and into her. The rod completely missed her side. Staggered, Farien’shar grabbed the augmented arm and twisted it hard to and back. The light faded from the arm as the servos disconnected. Bransen was powerless once again. His body contorted up a little bit as Farien’shar twisted his body so that he was on his toes. She laughed maniacally as she stepped to his right. She lifted her right leg high to her left and brought it down straight into the man’s right leg.

CRUNCH! Bransen’s world could only register one thing and one thing only: pain.

“AHHH!” Bransen screamed. He could not look down. He dared not look down. Farien’shar’s foot had practically snapped the man’s leg, tearing the knee bone. All that Bransen could register was raw agony. Nothing else mattered at that moment. The metal pipe landed on the floor with a hard metal thunk.

Why? Why did it have to be this way? Bransen was doing his best to fight back, but there was nothing there. All resistance was gone. All that the man could remember next was that a large, heavy kick slammed into his back. He was sent flying forward. His body crashed head and chest first into the floor.

Nothing worked. The maniacal laughter of Farien’shar echoed in Bransen’s head. Yet, the pain was everywhere. However, one person’s words were still trying to seep through. The words of the announcer had gone blank. The audience was non-existent. But his coach tried to get through.

“Call it, Bransen!” Saburo yelled. “Kop’ak! He surrenders! For God’s sake!”

“He has to say it!” Kop’ak replied.

Pain ... so much pain. His body was not functioning. Yet, he could feel the back of his head raised. Farien’shar had grabbed the man’s hair and forehead in one hand and broken augmented arm in the other. She was dancing around the broken appendage by his side hip. The same sign of madness was present. She was playing with her prey. Finally, the man said it. He only had one chance before Farien’shar could do any more damage.

“I give ... I give up!” Bransen yelled. He didn’t know if it ever got out. He was still screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Farien’shar!” the unknown voice called out. From the man’s eyes, the caretaker waved her hand and called out her name. She was still looking at her tilon, ignoring the battle. There was hesitation in Farein’shar’s eyes. Then, finally, she let go of the man and released him. There was a flash. Bransen knew that the battle was over.

Yet, the pain remained. He was breathing heavily as his body shook and convulsed. Almost all motor function was gone. His right leg was broken, and blood pooled from his left hand onto the arena stage.

“He ... help...,” Bransen tried to say.

“Hold on, Bransen!” the coach yelled out. “Help’s coming!”

“I’m coming!” Abril added.

The man couldn’t see anything. He was hyperventilating as his lungs and body were in complete shock. He was convulsing. For a moment, he could see the two familiar Shal’rein shapes staring at him. The orange and gray silhouettes were there. They were the last things that he saw before he lost consciousness...