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Tournament of Warlords

        

The beast drew back his arm, clenching his broad, blood-encrusted fist so tightly, it shook like a centenarian with a bad case of the tremors.  Sharp, bony protrusions appearing to serve as knuckles popped audibly, and I braced myself for the next blow.

The crowd roared as I raised my arms in a defensive move, activating a plasma shield that ran between ceramic nodes permanently implanted in my forearms.  With my fists balled, and my arms in close enough proximity to one another, the nodes filled the gap with a near-impenetrable energy field that would last as long as I maintained my position.

I braced myself.  The view through the energy field was like wearing blue aviator sunglasses.  Light filtered through in a cool haze.  The beast swung, striking the makeshift shield with the force of a freight train.  Bone chips and sparks flew in all directions.  A shockwave rippled across the energy field, causing parts of its surface to change momentarily from blue to a shade of violet, a clear sign the barrier had almost been compromised.  I winced as the impact jarred the nodes, resonating all the way down to the anchor points in my bones.  Immediately, thousands of nanops went to work on the resulting hairline fractures.  Within mere seconds, the anchor points were as good as new.

A second blow came just as the nanops finished their task, almost dislodging one of the nodes completely, sending the tiny medical technicians back to work.  It appeared their day was just getting started.

The shield’s surface became darker.  My pain threshold was exploring a new definition for the word ‘excruciating’, but I held my ground like a retiree with coupons at the cash register.

A third, well-placed strike changed that.

I cried out involuntarily as the powerful fist finally crashed through the barrier, ripping most of the nodes from my bones, leaving them dangling loosely from the flesh of my already battered forearms.  The fist connected with my face, smashing my nose and shredding my lips.  Teeth flew to the back of my throat, making me gag as the beast’s other hand wrapped tightly around my throat, cutting off my air supply.

The beast, known on his home planet as L’OthruC’ant, was an arthrolopithicus.  Like many desert-dwelling predatory species, he wore his skeleton on the outside.  Virtually covered in bioresponsive armor and possessing unparalleled strength, he was insanely difficult to kill.  Yet, with a face resembling a spoiled package of ground beef, and my primary defenses equally disposed, I still wasn’t ready to throw in the towel.

L’OthruC’ant noticed as I brought my right knee up between us.  I half expected him to react, but his arrogant expression said everything.  In his eyes, he had already won.  He would let me suffer the pain of a broken knee as a final indignity.

I knew I had precious little time before the arthrolopithicoid ended the fight.  All fights in the Multiversal Tournament of Warlords ended with at least one fatality.

“Finish it!  Finish it!  Finish it!”  The chant had become the crowd’s mantra, and L’OthruC’ant drank it like grape Kool-Aid from a golden chalice.  Intoxicated by it and the smell of my blood, he thrust a gore-covered celebratory fist into the air.  The crowd stood and showed its approval with a unified roar.

L’OthruC’ant’s moment of self-indulgent glory became my window of opportunity.  I brought my knee up to my adversary's groin and clenched my foot and toes tightly.  A tiny laser implanted in my patella, with a beam like a surgeon's scalpel, bored a needle-sized hole through my flesh and began to work on my opponent’s exoskeleton.

Before L’OthruC’ant understood what was happening, the lasers simultaneously bisected and cauterized his internal organs.  He pulled back slightly, his expression betrayed both surprise and pain.  In that moment of confusion, I raised my arms into my trademark defensive position.  The nanops were fast, but I was by no means healed.  I could only hope they'd done enough as I positioned my forearms on either side of L’OthruC’ant’s head and clenched my fists tightly.

The field flickered for a moment, but the nanops were responsive and practical in their repair patterns.  I was in battle mode, so weapons ops took priority over all else.  One final adjustment to the last node in the firing order, and the shield sparked to life.

The top of L’OthruC’ant’s head slid along the thin layer of energy and landed with a wet thud in the dirt behind me.

The shield sputtered and failed, peppering me with the charred remains of my foe’s blood and brains.  L’OthruC’ant’s body quivered slightly before collapsing on me.

The crowd fell silent as their champion dropped, burying me under his massive frame.

The audience cheered once again as L’OthruC’ant began to move, pleased to see the fight continue on.  They paused for the briefest of moments, though, as L’OthruC’ant rolled off to the side, and I staggered to my feet.  The roar resumed, however, when I boldly raised one bloody fist victoriously into the air.

They had a new champion to cheer for.

Packard Campbell.  Remember that name, folks.