It only takes him three rounds for the blond man’s guard to slip enough to get the knockout. He finds Oro1 in the stands, who is cheering loudly along with the rest of the crowd. Oro1 returns the blown kiss from earlier, which the cameras love. When James smiles, his amusement is genuine. The future is fucking weird, but at least he’s having fun.And making money.
After he leaves the ring, he’s escorted to the medical room. While he’s waiting on the physician to treat his opponent, they schedule him for two more fights and tell him he’s welcome back the following week.
Finally, he’s called into the room. A woman wearing an iridescent blue lab coat that looks like it came from the adult section of a Halloween shop directs him to an exam table. “Sit,” she says.
Her face is open, set off with deep, discerning eyes. Her mid-tone olive skin contrasts nicely with her straight, presumably box-dyed blonde hair that is cropped so close to her head it’s almost a buzz cut. Like everyone in the future, the woman paints a striking image.
She pulls out a light from her pocket, then unceremoniously uses her other hand to hold open his eyelid, preventing him from wincing, as she shines the light into his eye. She quickly does the other eye and when she’s finished, he shakes his head, forgetting himself for a moment. “Fuck.”
The word draws her attention. They stare at each other for a moment before he remembers to put on a dumb grin. She goes aboutpatching up the minor cut on his lip, and he tries not to react to the discomfort.
“I’ll fix this and any other cuts you have more permanently after you’re done for the night. Unless your owner prefers you to keep them?” she asks.
“He prefers them mended,” James replies, curious about the technology she’s using.
When she finishes his lip, she taps his nose. “And this? Is it from fighting?”
He represses a wince. Maybe if he kept his cut, his crooked nose would make more sense, but he was concerned about what Kate would think. “Yes,” he says, since it seems like the only reasonable explanation. He figures the less he speaks, the better.
“Funny, because they would have sent you to me for a fracture like this, even if it wasn’t my night. I don’t remember treating you, and if I had, I certainly wouldn’t have done such shoddy work.” She retrieves a tablet and before he can protest, she has it pointed at his face. “I’m just going to take an image to verify it was like that before I treated you.”
“But you already fixed my lip,” he protests.
“There would be residual bruises and swelling for a break like that,” she says matter-of-factly. The way she’s studying him makes his arm hairs prickle.
James scrambles for a way to explain why a manupartner like him has an old injury like his. Maybe the boxing club wasn’t such a good idea.
But then one of the escorts pops her head in the door. “The last fight just ended, and one contestant is bleeding pretty bad.” She inclines her head to James, meaning to clear the room.
The physician stands. “We’re done here.” She motions for him to leave, which he does. Quickly.
James beats his next opponent in four full three-minute rounds with a unanimous decision by Judge Master, a boxing analyzation software which he learns has replaced the human judges. Apparently, the point of the shorter matches is to provide the crowd with plenty of matches to bet on. Plus, it means fighters can enter up to three fights each night. Probably has something to do with the crowd’s limited attention spans, too.
James’s escort helps him under the ropes and to his corner. The crowd goes wild, and he turns to see what the commotion is about right as his opponent steps into the ring.
Fuck, it’s the Lizard Man.
The fight, which he loses, goes by in a blur. At least the Lizard Man didn’t get the knockout.
“Back again so soon?” the physician asks. Her name, he’s overhead, is Sable.
“I fought the Lizard Man,” James replies, remembering to put on a placid grin. His head is still spinning from the loss, and he’s being careless, but he can already feel his eye swelling.
Sable walks over and closes the outside door, which makes his stomach pitch. When she turns back to him, she cocks her head and studies him for a long moment. “You can cut the manupartner shit.”
She holds up the tablet, which displays side-by-side images of him. One is the picture she just took. The other is the shot from an interview he did a few years before he died. It’s like she’s dumped a bucket of ice over his head. His mouth opens, but he can’t seem to find the words.
“Facial recognition software. Plus, I’m one of GROW’s lead technicians. I’m around manupartners all day long, and it is quite obvious you aren’t one,” she calmly explains, as if she hadn’t dropped the most terrifying and threatening piece of information he’s heard since waking up.
James rubs his clammy palms on his shorts. “I’m here because my owner—”
Sable laughs, which cuts him short. When she recovers, she says, “Don’t worry. I have no interest in turning you in. I only caught the whiff of an opportunity when I looked you up and read a little about what you did in your time.”
“An opportunity?” His blood hums.
“You were an entrepreneur.” Her tone is matter of fact and he isn’t sure what level of alarm he should be feeling. James never had to do anything illegal before, but now he’s not even legal, so he has no choice.
“I won’t be manipulated,” he bluffs. But clearly, he’s in no position to haggle with this woman if she decides to extort him. His nerves fire as he eyes the door, briefly considering running. That didn’t go well last time he tried it, so his best bet is to talk his way out of this. Reason with her.
