''CLANG! SKREE...'' The sound of metal clashing against each other echoed through the ring.
''Yeah! come on! ''The crowd roared in excitement, chills running down their spines from the battle, with every clash of the opponents. Those bloodthirsty locals and citizens of this unforgiving and hostile world craved and hungered for more.
''Argh... damn bitch, stand still!'' A towering seven-foot-tall cyborg, steam billowing from his body, charged towards his opponent with the intent to dismember her. His actions and the look on his face didn't betray.
With every move, step, he took came a creaking sound. It could be seen be seen that his body parts were replaced with cheap metal scraps from some junk yard.
''Vince! Vince! Vince!'' The audience chanted relentlessly, their voices rising in a steadily
As his iron-plated fist made contact with his opponent, the impacts echoed through the arena.
''Thud, thud, thud!'' He didn't stop relentlessly assaulting his opponent, punch after punch, each one strong enough to pulverize a building.
Going into a defensive stance, blocking, dodging, the waves of attacks.
With a smile on her face that seemed like she was looking at a desperate prey, trying everything it could to escape it death.
Without flinching.
Her short red hair was swept to one side, a look that matched the fire in her eyes.
She wasn't tall, about five-seven solid and muscular frame. Her shoulders shifted under the weight of the blows.
But the fire in her eyes didn't go out.
Her arms were buried in massive iron gauntlet, oversized, articulated knuckles, plated joints, faint light etching engraved on the surface.
''Is that all you got, come on don't disappoint me like the others'' she said, with a hint of sarcasm in her tone.
''You are underestimating, aren't you'' he said speeding up his attacks.
''Oh, you really are not done'' she said with an annoyed look ''sorry for you, I've gotten bored''.
In one precise and fluid move, she tilted her head slightly, letting him have a clear shot to her face.
'Finally, an opening' he thought to himself.
But just before it could connect, she shifted.
'She dodged, oh crap it a decoy' Vince realized but it was too late.
She dodged, ducking under the blow and in one swift motion, planted her fist into his side ribs.
''KRR-CHK!''
The unmistakable sound of ribs snapping resonated through the ring.
''WHRR THOOM'' the body of Vince was lifted of the ground and landed badly on the other side of ring.
Vince realized that he had fallen for a feint, a petty trick he had succumbed to. But it was too late, the sound of his ribs cracking could be heard.
One of the only parts in his body that wasn't replaced by metal. She had seen it, his weakness.
In a flash his body landed on the other side of the ring, bruised with sparks flying out of his body.
''You weren't even good enough for a warm up'' she said while walking away.
'Bloody bitch' he thought before blacking out.
In a moment of silence, the crowd took it time to absorb what had just happened.
''Ruska!!!, Ruska!'' The crowd erupted in excitement.
A wrinkly old man leaned eagerly toward his friend, eyes wide with excitement ''I told you! Always bet on her, and you'll be ensured to go home filled,''hahaha, that if you have one'' he chuckled while drawing on his pipe.
Without turning back or waving to the audience, Ruska left the ring and headed for the reforge.
Meanwhile, in the stands, a young man in his twenties watched the match with sharp, fixed eyes. Beside him stood a woman with long, violet hair that flowed down her back. She was likely in her twenties, although she looked older and more matured, as though she were in her late twenties.
She gazed at the fighters, then at her notepad, taking down notes, as if she were a scout searching for young talent.
Turns out, they'd been keeping tabs on her for a while now.
''She's good'' the man said, his voice cold and chilling, almost a whisper, yet firm enough to cut through the noise, although he was speaking to the lady, his eyes never leaving the ring.
A faint smile played on her lips, as if she were doing her best to hold back her amusement. ''Exactly what I've been saying. I think it best we recruit her.''
With sharp eyes, the young man kept his gaze fixed on Ruska, watching everyone of her moves, decisions, the look she had in her eyes.
He noticed for some reason she seemed to be fighting on instinct, like she wasn't even present at all.
Then finally she spoke, the light in her eyes returning looking at Vince as he were her prey. 'Is that all you got, come on don't disappoint me like the others.
The young man an in the stands seemed to have heard it, which was quite remarkable given all the noise coming from the crowd.
This clearly showed that he wasn't a normal human.
It was evident that Ruska words had sent Vince into a rage.
'she's also good at destroying her opponents mentally, looks like there is more to her that meets the eyes'. The young man thought.
Vince had entered a state of rage, exactly what she wanted. It made his moves more predictable and easier to read.
He lunged forward, fists tearing through the air desperately for a hit. Like a broken track record, he went on. But no matter how fast or fierce his strikes became, he couldn't touch her.
As though she were a seasoned MMA fighter she avoided his attacks with ease.
The more the young man watched, the more intrigued he became; he found himself drawn into the match.
There was something about her calmness amid the chaos that fascinated him.
Dodging his relentless assaults and deflecting the few blows she couldn't evade, the clash dragged on. Each second resulted in increased tension.
Then for a second it seemed she would get hit, at least that's what everyone thought, but not him.
The crowd held their breath, waiting for the outcome.
But it turned out to be only a feint, which Vince fell for.
Without any wasted motion, she ducked under his fist while planting her mechanical gauntlet into his side, sending him flying to the other side of the ring.
It was clear to him that the fight was over, no coming back.
The next second the crowd erupted, their cheers reverberating through the arena.
Without any formality, Ruska left without so much as batting an eye at Vince.
But something felt off, it was as if her punch didn't just land on his ribs, but directly into his very soul. His eyes, hardened by countless battles, seemed to recognize it all.
He'd seen her strike not once, but six times in a row, each move precise and relentless. It made him wonder why she so ruthless, it didn't matter as that was what he needed.
''Let go'' he signaled to the violet haired lady.
Running through the corridor that led to the reforge.
''Full name: Anya Ruska. Age:24. Height:5'7''. The violet-haired lady quietly recited the info she had gathered. ''Orphaned at just fifteen, she had endured more than most could imagine. ''Proficient in multiple forms of hand-to-hand combat but prefers boxing. Her weapon of choice seems to be a pair of massive gauntlets, powered by microreactors. She listed out what she could get on Ruska.
'' You know something? those gauntlets really suit her; I mean her style of in-your-face fighting'' she said to the young man as they got closer.
In distance not too far sat an old, crumbly, structure. Rust-streaked panels, dented alloy doors and cables that snaked like veins across the soot-stained walls. It was in no way pleasing in the eye, but for those folks who had spent their entire lives down there, it was a sanctuary.
They arrived at the entrance, which was a cracked steel hatch with a partially functional biometric scanner, flickering every time it activated.
Once inside, they only needed to walk for a few minutes before they got to the main chamber.
The main chamber was carved into the bedrock, with walls lined with makeshift reinforcement, salvaged plating from decommissioned mechs and other structures. Reinforced glass, reengineered from old shuttle domes, provided additional protection. Violet-haired lady couldn't help but shiver as pipes jutted from the ceiling like ribs, droplets of steam pattering softly onto her shoulders, the low hum of the power conduits running just beneath their feet told them they weren't alone
Despite it old look, the tech here was cutting edge, most likely stolen from the upper echelons of the city and discarded military grade equipment from wars.
Nanite med-bays hissed, cryo-gel tanks pulsed with dim cyan light and neuro-sync chairs buzzed quietly in shadowed corners. It all seemed to have seen better days, but it still worked. At least mostly.
The air smelled of sweat, metal and a faint hint of ozone filled the air.
Scanning through the room, they found Ruska sitting alone.