Ushinatta wasn’t the most hospitable of locations. Conceived originally as a prison colony in the belt, a revolt left it lawless for a few years until a settlement blossomed from the seeds of chaos. Of course, Earth was displeased, but their hands were tied when the Intergalactic League of Planets got involved and declared it under their protection, making them the first independent Earth colony because of ILoP intervention. So, it existed far enough away from Earth and the inside colonies to be forgotten most of the time, serving as a destination for the wayward.

Like Coop.

Although he’d pressured Sam to stay behind and wait for him, she insisted on tagging along on his trip into the heart of darkness. He’d done his best to dissuade her from joining him on the trip, but didn’t blame her for the insistence after how wrong everything had been since the Kriger fight. It was her stopping the fight against Skidz that saved his eye, even if it earned him the ire and disdain of anyone still attuned to Coop Sabre, a fallen hero. Fuck ‘em.

“Is that really it?” she asked upon their approach.

“That’s Ushinatta.” His uncle usually drove the ship, but Coop didn’t even bother telling him where he was headed. Regis despised Ushinatta, calling it a den of heathens and depravity. Perhaps it was, but it was also home to some of the most extreme fighters humanity had to offer; the ones that didn’t care about fame or glory certainly didn’t care about the Intergalactic Championship. Instead, they fought for themselves, what they considered their art and their brutality. Etched across the side of the station above the docking bay was a giant skull and crossbones, Coop letting a smile crack through while Sam clutched onto his shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s all for show.”

“It better be,” she said. “What was wrong with the training facilities you had back home? You had everything there.”

“I had everything, but I still lost to Kriger.” When he said it out loud, it tasted more bitter than he intended it to be, but it sealed off the conversation for another time, at least.

Clearance came through on the board, Coop letting the station take over the landing process. Training at some sterile gym would not help him out, not when he was like this. Ushinatta was going to be different, it would be raw and painful. Sam didn’t know what to expect and there were very few words Coop had to soothe those fears. In part, because those fears were founded in reality. This was punishment for getting too soft and forgetting who he was. The recycled air onboard Ushinatta was stale and metallic, just like he remembered, and he was getting excited.

“Is anyone going to meet us?” Sam asked.

“Here? Nah,” he said. “Nobody knows we’re coming. We’ll get ourselves a room for a few weeks and just take it all in.”

“So where’s this training, then?” He could hear the apprehension in her voice. “I thought you had some sort of plan.”

“Ushinatta doesn’t work like that. You just show up to the pit, toss your name into the lot and fight. After a few fights, you can ask for someone,” he said.

“Don’t tell me, you already have someone in mind?” she asked.

“How’d you know?” There was that smile again. Just the thought of fighting the legendary TAKASHI got his blood pumping.

“If you think this’ll work, then I’m all for it,” she said. “Just... be careful, you know?”

“I can’t promise that,” he said. “All I can promise is I’m gonna be ready for whatever happens.”

Like all things, the station was not resistant to change. The halls were overflowing with ads and bright lights assaulting the senses without mercy. Street vendors cawed and clawed for business, Coop with his bag of clothes slung over his shoulder and the case carrying his newfound, still-unnamed bat with him. The idea of testing out his blank canvas excited him more than anything else. Ushinatta’s fighting pits were a place of legend, notorious for brutality and showmanship. Those rafters were filled with fans who loved blood and violence, but wanted a spectacle on top of the brutality. Going out there and one-shotting someone was a show of strength, sure, but those fans would prefer a knock-down, drag-out brawl between two competitors. Sam secured them a room nearby, but Coop was too amped up to not hit the pit first, descending into the underbelly of the already seedy station while she trailed behind him. They headed down a flight of metal stairs, into a room lit by a lone red light bulb, stickers and posters lining the walls. Ahead was a small booth, with a larger, disheveled woman behind a set of metal bars.

“Name?” she asked, pushing a clipboard between the bars to him.

“Coop Sabre.” He snatched the board and jotted down his name.

“Um, Coop?” Sam elbowed him from behind. “Shouldn’t we use an alias here?”

“Nah,” he said, returning the clipboard.

“Uh huh,” the woman said. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

“At least a few years, yeah,” he replied.

“Whatever. Down the hall here to the locker room. You remember how this works? Your name will be called and you fight.”

“Aye, I got it.” Her droll description immediately pumped him up. “I’m ready.”

“Good, and you, sweetheart?” she asked Sam. “Are you fighting?”

“Um, no, I’m his manager,” Sam replied.

“Managers, girlfriends, spouses and everyone else has to wait in the stands. Come back here after his fight and I’ll let you back there if anything happens.”

“If anything happens?” Sam turned to him.

“Don’t worry, babe, I got this.” Coop leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Just wait for me, okay?”

“Coop...”

“What?” he asked.

“Be careful, okay? They’re all gonna be gunning for you when they figure out who you are.”

“This is Ushinatta,” he said. “Nobody gives a shit who I am here. I’m just another fighter.”

“I’m not sure it works that way anymore,” Sam said. “When was the last time you were here? Years ago? Before you became, well... you?”

“Okay, right? Yeah.” She had a point. Things weren’t static. Even Ushinatta Station had changed since he was last there. Coop Sabre may be persona non grata to the media, but they’d be gunning for him for sure. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

He could tell by the look on her face she wasn’t comfortable with it, but this was why he wanted her to stay behind. This wasn’t for the weak of heart, nor was it something most fighters would do. But this is what Coop needed. Coop saw her off to the stands, then went down the dark hallway into the crowded locker room, straddling over the worn wooden bench and sitting himself down before an open locker with his bag and case laid out before him. A hush came over the locker room, while the group of rough and battle-tested combatants glared at him.

“Is that really him?” a younger man asked another.

“That can’t be,” another voice chimed in.

“Get a good look,” Coop said, eyes scanning the room. “Because I’m gonna kick one of your asses out there tonight.”

“Where’s your cameras, pretty boy?” A rough-looking man, older, although hard to discern how much older from the scars and pock-marks on his face, placed his boot on the bench in front of Coop. “An enormous star like you would only slum it for a reason, huh? You here to make some big comeback, tell some story and take off?”

“Fuck outta here,” Coop said.

“Big stars like you don’t come here unless they got a reason. Want to feel better about yourself by smashing some poor sop’s face in or something?” He kicked Coop’s bag aside and straddled the bench, getting in his face. “I eat pretty boys like you for a snack. I don’t give a shit what happens under those bright lights in that fancy arena. Down here? This is real deathmatches.”

A chorus of voices agreed.

“So get your fancy ass outta here. We don’t want your kind,” he said.

“Sorry, pal, no can do.” Coop unfastened the case and pulled the new bat out. “I’m here to fight.”

“Oh, you hear that? He’s here to fight.” He turned to the crowd of fighters. “This asshole thinks he’s gonna have a fun little time with one of us.”

“Suppose I will.” Coop took a swing with the bat. “Break this bad boy in. Maybe it’ll be your skull it cracks against?”

“The fuck you say? Fuck this. Hey, Marta!” He bellowed toward the rotund woman from the booth, clipboard in one hand and marker in the other, standing by a large whiteboard.

“What now, Ramirez?” she asked.

“Put me down against good old boy Coop Sabre here. I want to give him a warm Ushinatta welcome.”

“That ain’t how this place works,” Coop said.

“Maybe before, but that was before Ruthless Ramirez showed up. You hear me, Marta?” he called.

“I heard you, Ramirez. Sabre vs. Ramirez is up next.”

“See? Simple.” Ramirez picked himself up, his long, stringy hair cascading over his brown leather vest. “See you out there, Sabre.”

“Whatever,” Coop said.

Ramirez stood to encouragement and a few slaps on the back from the other fighters, pulling a giant cluster of old fluorescent light tubes taped together from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder, someone passing him a coil of chains that he strung up over his other shoulder, turning back and nodding at Coop.

“See you out there, pretty boy.”