Never in his wildest dreams did Coop imagine he’d be standing on a podium alongside another human, never mind one from Ushinatta Station. Ramirez stood like a child that had gotten into somewhere he didn’t belong, looking around with a nervous energy in case someone whisked him away from the lineup. Coop stood next to him, offering a fist bump that Ramirez returned with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted.

Chances were, he didn’t need anyone looking out for him. Still, it felt like Coop’s job considering the circumstances. Without their battle and the attention that came from Coop Sabre, Intergalactic Championship contender, battling it out on some remote renegade human station, it’d all still be a secret. Knowing TAKASHI, he was pissed with the newfound attention, probably with the regen tank, too. The scars they earned were a point of pride and integral to their fighting pits.

“This shit is wild,” Ramirez said.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” What he didn't say was how publicity wore him down more than the fights ever did. That pressure was always the worst part.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, man.”

“I’ve got you.” Coop did his best to assure him, even though it was impossible to know how someone like Ramirez would handle the pressures of the arena. It was different for different audiences and more cutthroat. “Just stick with me. You’ve got this.”

Skidz hissed past the both of them, cackling at the sight of two humans together like that. That last victory over Coop inflated his ego. What caught Coop’s attention was Kriger entering the stage, the Intergalactic Championship title belt slung over his shoulder. Coop had been so close he could feel the weight of that belt over his own shoulder. Instead, he was mashed back down into a paste and discarded like last week’s trash.

“So that’s him?” Ramirez asked.

“Uh huh, that’s the bastard.”

“He doesn’t look that tough.”

“You’d be surprised.” Painful memories flood his nervous system, sending a shudder down his spine. “We gotta get through this first. More than one fight a night is a lot.”

“It’s only what? Three fights?”

“Only is a strong word, Ramirez,” Coop said. “They’re fucking with you putting you in a tournament like this right away.”

“I can handle it,” he said.

“Not saying you can’t.”

All eight of the fighters stood on the podium, a fearsome group with Tuup standing by the lectern alongside his champion, Kriger. The intergalactic press was eating it up, especially both humans side-by-side, motley in comparison. If Coop had to guess, this was Tuup playing hardball with his uncle, who was trying to create a professional training center as a pipeline for humans into the league. Bringing in someone like Ramirez to this stage was some kind of mind game, for sure. Among the aliens were Skidz; a barrel-chested zondian; a female flaxian with her green flesh and slender frame, the closest analogue to humans in the galaxy; an araken warrior; another brandian, giving them two participants alongside Skidz; and finally a dondan, towering, sluglike amorphous, asexual blobs who changed colors to emit different attacks.

Every one of them was dangerous, with their own history fighting inside the arena, or even challenging Kriger. There were no active former champions, Kriger having held it for over a decade, retiring the former champion, a crafty zondian, by gouging both his eyes out. It was a sadistic and brutal end of an era, especially knowing what regen tanks were and weren’t capable of.

The draw started, and a knot appeared in Coop’s stomach. While he was there, trying to assure an exuberant Ramirez everything would be fine, he himself wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. Yes, fighting was in his blood and this was all he ever wanted, but the longer he lived, the more he realized life was much more than fame and glory. There were people in his life he cared about and wanted what’s best for, and life inside the arena was brutal and never ending. Humans didn’t live as long as just about any of the major races involved in the league, so Coop’s time at this level would be comparatively fleeting. That meant it was now or never. Tournaments like this only happened occasionally, never in Coop’s time in the league.

One-by-one, the combatants’ names were called, the brackets filling out. Ramirez pumped his fist when called, drawing the stout zondian for his first draw. The zondian was a formidable opponent, but the weakest of the field, which both made Coop feel better knowing his newfound comrade wouldn’t get smashed right out of the gates, but also jealous he didn’t get such a lucky draw. Coop, of course, drew the fucking dondan. Of course.

Of all the races he’d fought, he’d never touched a dondan before. Just giant, gelatinous blogs who channeled elemental powers and were almost impossible to hit because of how soft their bodies were. Coop and the dondan squared up against each other, forming two bright red protruding limbs from its globular body, its dead eyes glaring at Cooper that made him feel cold inside.

After the pose down, they dispersed, Ramirez slapping Coop on the shoulder. The look in his eyes was one Coop understood all-too-well, having lived that first time fighting jitters. Inside, he was feeling a rush of emotions, most likely. From excitement and confidence to self-doubt and even fear. Having seen both combatants in action, Coop felt better about Ramirez’s chances of getting past the first round, but anything could happen once that bell rang.

“You ready for this?” Coop asked.

“Brother, I was born for this.”

“You gonna bring the chains with you into the arena?” Coop turned to face him, remembering the kiss of those metal links.

“I don’t think light tubes will do me much good out there, so the chain it is.”

“Be ready for anything tomorrow.” He meant the words for Ramirez, but spoke them aloud for himself as well. This tournament was his last chance at the top and he couldn’t show mercy, even if he found himself across the arena from Ramirez again.