Chapter 3

Andrew took a seat at the bar as close to the square fighting cage as he could get. Two massive guys were currently hammering it out, their ungloved blows smashing on skin that glistened with sweat and intensely bright lights. A boisterous announcer was eagerly giving all the details, commenting on how Terry, who was apparently the six and a half feet tall fighter in black shorts, had gone undefeated now six matches in a row.

As Andrew watched, Terry suddenly burst out with a flurry of swift attacks, driving straight through his opponent's defenses and shattering his nose with a sharp blow. The next punch threw the other man into the air to land harshly against the ground, blood streaming over his face. It looked incredibly impressive, as the crowd readily testified to with their sudden overzealous screaming. Of course, Andrew's processors had easily worked out that with the power of Terry's punches, along with his apparent muscular build, that there was a chance of greater than eighty percent that the fighter was charged with a heavy dose of steroids. He definitely would not feel guilty about taking the cheater out of the game for a while.

The announcer's voice boomed over the P.A., calling Andrew (number fourteen) to the ring. He quickly complied, weaving through the crowd and climbing in-between the ring's ropes to stand in the opposite corner from Terry. The announcer stepped into another corner of the ring, laughter in his eyes as he stared with amusement at Andrew.

"Well," the announcer began over the voices of an also amused crowd, "it appears we have a new competitor for Terry... who knows, maybe he'll be more impressive than his stature."

The announcer walked over to Andrew, holding the microphone towards him. "So, what's your name?"

Andrew stared the announcer down, taking a menacing step towards the smaller man. "I do not believe my name is all that important to these proceedings. Can we just get this underway already?"

The announcer whistled lightly into the microphone, a slight laugh in his tone as he began speaking. "Well, mystery man here doesn't want to divulge his name to us simple commoners. Oh well, as he said, let's get this show on the road. Fighters, go to the center of the ring!"

As he stepped forward into the center of the ring, Andrew couldn't help at smile from some of the shouts he could hear from the crowd. Most of the people taking bets down on the floor were offering 15 to 1 odds on the "Mystery Man's" victory, or less. Not that he could blame them for their rapid judgments at his chances; he was a good half-foot shorter than his opponent, and a few inches less wide, with less obvious musculature as well. It looked as if an eighteen year old kid that was maybe fresh out of high school was trying to take on a hardened fighter.

Terry seemed to have reached that conclusion as well. "Listen kiddo, if you back out now I won't have to smear you to New York and back."

Andrew simply smiled as he dropped into a wide combat stance that left his head, chest, and abdomen exposed to an attack. "Whatever steroids you are on will not help you out against me. I assure you that I am superior to you in matters of strategy, strength, and intelligence. The odds of you managing to best me in combat are astronomical."

The announcer was trying to stifle a laugh as he moved back into his corner, looking between the two fighters and seeing if they were ready. "Okay... ready? Fight!"

Terry quickly came in with a powerful right hook aimed straight at Andrew's nose. An entirely too predictable move, even assuming Andrew had been a human opponent. Grabbing a hold of the fighter's wrist as he deftly turned his back to his opponent and redistributed his weight, he propelled Terry over his shoulder to land hard on his back against the mat.

To give the man some credit, he was back on his feet and over his shock more quickly than Andrew would have estimated of him. Of course, now he was angry, and anger often led to recklessness... such as coming in at your opponent in an overextended kick towards the face.

It was no difficulty for Andrew to duck the attack and sweep out his leg to catch his opponent behind his ankle, dumping him on his back against the mat once again. This time, he placed his foot on the man's sternum, pressing down hard enough to make breathing difficult for him.

"If you give up now, I'll let you out of this match without any further embarrassment," Andrew whispered towards the man, "and maybe you can keep some of your damaged reputation."

Terry merely growled in response, grabbing Andrew's leg to shove him away. Since Terry could have easily thrown a human of his same size, Andrew decided to make the show a little more convincing by flipping backwards and landing perfectly balanced on his feet.

When Terry picked himself up off the ground, a fire could be seen in his eyes. The last vestiges of his sanity had left him, his desire to hurt this audacious kid who thought himself a real fighter the all-consuming thought that occupied his mind.

This time when Terry came in, it was not with a wild punch or kick. He used his entire body as a weapon, leveling his shoulder towards Andrew and charging with a pace and fierceness that a bull would have been envious of. He launched himself from the ground with every dreg of strength he could issue forth from his legs, right on target for his smaller opponent.