It had been months since Coop set foot on Belzhur, the home base of Intergalactic Deathmatch. The dwarf planet sat on the fringes of zondian space and was wholly owned and operated by the ID Syndicate, which was a fancy name for Tuup's shell company that operated outside of the Galactic Council's jurisdiction on virtually everything, other than on Belzhur. The fight being there meant it was within the council's reach and the fight would be mostly aboveboard, unlike the last one with the stunt involving the two sacrificial humans fed to Kriger. ID Syndicate always put on a big show about safety protocols and working with the council, the exception being the events on remote moons outside of anyone's reach.

Belzhur was a shithole, though. There was no way around that.

The sprawling city of Balzta served as ID Syndicate's home base, the largest settlement encased in fogged domes to protect from the vicious sandstorms and the bitter cold of being so far from the zondian sun. His uncle licked his lips upon their descent toward the heart of Balzta. While other parts of the planet remained remote, either home to farming or mining settlements, Balzta was filled to the brim with every vice legal within council space known to exist. Regis loved that damned city, considering it a place they could settle down in and lap up the fame that came with Coop's hard work. They piled into a tube that traveled from the docking area at the crest of the dome down into the city; the company ferrying their bags for them, although Coop kept a firm grip on the titanium case he kept Guy in, knowing better than to let anyone else handle his beloved bat.

"Can't believe this place, still. It's been how many visits?"

"Twelve, Regis." Even with Coop expecting the awe, it was still obnoxious and unwelcome. "Every time you do the same thing."

"What're you riding me about now?"

"This. Every time we come to Belzhur, you gush over this place and try to convince me to move here."

"Look, kid, it's got everything we need. The company is right here, too. It's better than holing up in that dump back home."

"Home is the key word, uncle." After breaching the docking levels, they got a breathtaking view of the city. There it was, laid out before them in all of its overbearing neon splendor, every last billboard and sign screaming out at them while they descended into madness. "Home ain't great, but it's sure better than this."

"What are you talking about? We can get anything we need here! Anything, Cooper! This is the place, I'm telling you. Where else you gonna be treated like a king, huh?"

"If I lose tomorrow, it won't matter." Most fights didn't get to him like this, but that display from Kriger had gotten to him more than he was willing to admit. Kriger was desperate to hold on to his status as champion and everything that came with it. His people were proud but never saw much luck as conquerors or traders, leaving their glory in the hands of Kriger, a brute in the ring. The other races saw humanity as lessors, even compared to the gurgians, and they didn't want to lose their place in the galaxy to puny, four-limbed people like them.

"Then don't lose, right?" His uncle smacked him across the back.

"Right."

After what felt like an eternity, they came to a stop on the ground level, the blocky promoter, Tuup, pacing around the dingy lobby, lined with a garish red-and-gold carpet and the walls plastered with screens that provided a soft artificial glow that was already giving Coop a headache. Never mind his clothes; the promoter wearing a green tunic with neon purple embellishments that made him look like a minor noble that couldn't buy taste. Still, this was Tuup, the zondian behind the scenes that made Intergalactic Deathmatch tick, and he was an insufferable scumbag on the best of days.

"You're late," he grumbled.

"Nice to see you, too, Tuup," Regis said. "I'm happy to be back here. In fact, we were just talking about moving here, you know? Getting closer to the action and everything?"

"Oh?" Tuup perked up. "That would be a great story, and if you were to win, it would make things a lot more interesting."

"Why not let me stay at one of your palatial estates, then?" This was all bullshit, a part of the dance. Tuup owned half of that city and everyone knew it, considering he proudly wore it on his sleeve that it was his town. The fight town.

"Well, there're matters of professionalism and—"

"How about we head to our suite then and get ready?" Regis butted in before things got uncomfortable.

"How about I don't ask you about your estates anymore and you pay me better?" This was always a sore spot between them. His uncle grew finicky and interceded before either man could start up the same old argument they'd had dozens of times before.

"He's just tired, we should go get ready now." Regis placed his hand on Coop's back and pushed him forward, grinning his big, dumb smile back at Tuup while the promoter huffed to himself. "Kid, you're gonna get us killed, you know that?"

"I'm his main event, he ain't touching me as long as I can make him money." This is at least what he wanted to believe. The stunt with the humans and Kriger was meant to send an obvious message at how expendable all of their fighters were.

"You better hope that's true. Don't blow this, kid. Not when we're this close to glory."

It pained Coop to admit it, but his uncle was right, even if his use of "we" bristled him. This was the closest any human had ever gotten to greatness on the intergalactic stage. Humans were the fragile, infantile race in the galaxy, their inclusion in the fights was a formality and none ever climbed the ranks like Coop had. The city of Balzta breathed them in the deeper they got, Coop's grip on his case tightening and nerves frayed. His uncle shot him a knowing smile while they passed by a brothel, featuring twenty-five races on call, including humans. Shadows of alluring, nude figures danced over flashing lights, Coop having to urge Regis on.

"Not now, uncle."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe for the big victory party, eh?"

"You presume too much," Coop said.

"And you don't dream big enough, kid."

Just before their hotel, a giant moving billboard for the fight stood before them. A projected Coop with Guy in his hand, beckoning the hulking Kriger to attack before the figures converged in an explosion. He couldn't help but stare up at it, pausing in the middle of the bustling sidewalk with his jaw agape. Kriger was massive. This was starting to feel like a bad idea.