Just like Coop expected, Sam was happy to see him, if not colder than usual. She didn’t need to say anything; it was abundantly clear he was an absolute mess and perhaps needed time to dry out. That wouldn’t be an option, considering the fight loomed ominously on the immediate horizon. If he’d prepared better, the trip would’ve come sooner, allowing him to adjust to Luna’s artificial gravity and hype himself up. Instead, he’d have to go in blind, wearing the clothes off his back and hope for the best.

“You know,” Sam said, the first words she’d muttered since he showed up, “Robert Burns looks ready.”

“Who the hell is Robert Burns?” Coop asked.

“Your opponent, you asshole. The one you’re going to fight in just a few minutes.”

“Then why don’t you go manage him if he’s so ready,” Coop said.

“Stop speaking nonsense and just do whatever it is you need to do to get ready.” There was clear disdain in her voice. “This was a mistake.”

“Of course it was a fucking mistake,” he said. “You never go to fucking Luna. Luna is for losers.”

“I want you to get this through your numb skull right now, Cooper Sabre.” She hovered over him, an intense look on her face. “Cut the shit. You’re here, on fucking Luna. Got that? You’re here, and you’re here for a reason. I know this shit with your uncle has you worked up, but the reality we face is this: if you want to get back into the league’s good graces, you’re gonna have to show them you can play by their rules.”

“It’s a stupid game they want me to play.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said. “That’s why you’re going to go out there and smash this asshole’s face in and get us off of this rock.”

“It won’t get me back to Kriger.” He was whining now. That’s great.

“Not right away, no. Do you think, in your current shape, you deserve Kriger?”

“I...”

“No, you don’t. He’d obliterate you. So go out there and show them that Robert Burns is beneath you already. Then maybe we can see what else they’ll give us.”

Coop gave her a nod, not feeling up to going any further than that. It pained him to admit it, but she was right. There was very little incentive to toss him to Kriger again, and a stimmed-out version of himself wasn’t good for much beyond the Robert Whateverhisnameis’s of the galaxy. Everything about Luna was pristine and sanitized, a stark contrast from Ushinatta’s weathered and battle-worn walls that spoke to a revolution and countless fights in those pits. If his uncle knew he left the regen tank behind for those outcasts, he’d flip his lid, which made him smile. Who said Coop Sabre never gave back?

“The countdown is on,” Sam called to him. “You ready?”

“Suppose so.” Coop popped open the case and pulled out his new bat, checking to ensure he’d left some charge in the pack, which he had. Even when he was at his worst, his weapon was always ready for battle. That made one of them. While it wasn’t Guy, it was his bat and one he’d had a hand in crafting.

Overhead, the ready light to the massive steel door pulsed, giving him a warning. Sam and he locked eyes, Coop gripping onto the bat and understanding there was more to this game than just his strained relationship with his family. He dropped the bat to the ground with a clang and threw his arms around her, squeezing tight. After a few moments, her arms returned the embrace, a few sniffles resonating in his ear.

“You can do this,” she said, “you bastard.”

“I got this,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

From red to green, the light shifted, the door cracking open and giving way to the artificial light of the Luna Dome. He’d been there in training, but never during an actual fight. The crowd roared, getting their first glimpse of a real, live league fighter beyond the trainees. All were human, unsurprisingly. Luna wasn’t a place for the actual competition. It was the place where humans could get their start, or, in Coop’s situation, another crack at the big time. Head still pounding and swimming from his coming down off the stimnet, he stepped out onto the tightly packed dirt of the arena, imported from back on Earth, and couldn’t help but laugh.

Pumping the bat into the air, the wave of cheers undulated through the arena, penetrating his subconscious and reminding him of why he was here, doing what he did. This was that feeling, the same one he got when he stepped into those fighting pits; the excitement and anxiety bubbling together to create a miasma in his gut that fueled his aggression. Standing across the arena from him was a blonde man, body cut from stone, with a square jaw and a tight, shimmering bodysuit built to make him look like a superhero. He leaned against a massive hammer, the head stuck into the ground, like something torn from Earth’s old mythologies.

Coop didn’t bother with the pleasantries. Not that he could remember this guy’s name, anyhow. The announcer barked their names out again, but the crowd’s roar made it just a murmur in the breeze. The start buzzer was loud and clear, though. Coop swung the bat and stepped forward, feet crunching against the imported dirt while the blonde man hefted the hammer onto his shoulder and dashed forward like a dart. Coop laughed at the aggression. This was his world, not some rube Luna loser’s.

The man was upon him in a heartbeat. Coop stepped away from his shoulder block, although he wasn’t expecting the massive hammer to come swinging around in an arc at his shoulder, expecting the dodge. With a flash of pain, Coop screamed out, tumbling to the ground at the weight of the blow. Turns out a massive hammer, even with a quick blow, hurts. Whoever this guy was, he was going for broke, seeing the opportunity of putting Coop Sabre away for good, something even the great Kriger couldn’t do. Hammer held up high over his head. He brought it down like a heavy wrecking ball toward Coop’s head. Coop rolled out of the way just in time, the breeze from the hammer whisking against his cheek. This created the opening he needed, though, Coop jamming his heel into the knee of the blonde adonis and staggering him long enough to get back up.

Refusing to let go of one’s weapon was a rookie mistake for fighters in the league, one that this poor, sad sap was making at that moment. Relying not on his own abilities, but the girth of his weapon and the power it bestowed upon him. Bat in hand, Coop slashed it across the man’s arm, the shock reverberating through his body and down through the steel hammer on the ground. Poor Robert Whateverhisname stumbled to one knee, gripping at his bloody and electrified wrist, not expecting the shin that crashed into his chest, sending him to the ground. Prior, this would’ve been it for the poor bastard, Cooper would smash him in the face and call it a day, but his stint on Ushinatta reminded him that longevity wasn’t about quick wins, it was about becoming an undeniable force people wanted to see. He played to the crowd instead, getting them excited and allowing his opponent to stagger back to his feet.

There were no expectations of the same level of courtesy, of course, him dashing back to his hammer and hoisting it from its resting place. Another blow came, this one more wild and less in control, Coop ducking under the hammer’s head and following up with a shot of his own from the bat, smacking across the faux-Thor’s chest with a splat. He attempted to bring the hammer back up for another blow, but Coop was ready for it, driving his elbow into the shaft, stopping it dead in its tracks. Taking the opportunity, Coop spun around, smashing his fist against the temple of the man’s head. The hammer slapped across the ground, Coop kicking with the toe of his boot into the chest and flattening him to the ground.

Coop tugged at the hammer, the weight almost overpowering. It was no surprise this bastard was so slow, this hammer was slowing him down, no matter how big the muscles on him were. Only hovering above the massive hammer above the ground a few inches, Coop brought it up and slapped the head down onto his opponent’s chest, taking the breath out of him. The man struggled to remove the hammer, but didn’t have the remaining strength to get up. Coop kneeled down next to him, shaking his head and laughing.

“Do you give up?” Coop asked. “This hammer is too heavy to fight with, you’ll get nowhere with it.”

“What’s... wrong with you?” the man sputtered.

“The fight’s over,” Coop spat next to him, wandering off with the bat by his side.

Entering back into the backstage area while the crowd remained confused, Regis stood there, arms crossed and face redder than usual. Regis opened his mouth, Coop glaring up at him and pointing the bat at his face. His uncle fell silent, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

“Your boy needs work,” Coop said.