“Nobody does this shit to me, you hear me?” Regis’s voice echoed through the sterile walls of the locker room. A dejected Richard Burns stumbled back in with the aid of the red-faced coach, both doing their best to avoid eye contact with either Coop or Regis. “Sorry your new boy got embarrassed out there,” Coop retorted.

“No, you’re not! That’s the problem. You knew this was important to me and you fucked me. You fucked me hard.”

“You put your best man against me and he couldn’t take it. Admit it, none of these overblown bundles of flesh can cut it in the league.” There was an audience now, not that Coop cared. His time training there had been miserable, and he did a pitiful job of hiding it. “If that’s the best you have, then you’re starting over. None of these assholes are league ready.”

"So you think I wanted this fight?” Regis asked. “You think I said ‘gimme my stimmed out nephew, who’s pissed at me for looking out for myself for once and—‘“

“For once?! The balls on you, man.” Regis always had some nerve, but claiming he was looking out for himself after a lifetime of it was the final straw. “Everything you’ve done, every part of my career I have involved you in, has been for your own benefit only. Not mine!”

“Get outta here with that shit. You’re blinded by the stims.”

“Do I look like I’m jacked in right now? No. You know I’m right.”

“No, I don’t,” Regis said. “Before I came along, you were some lump fighting at Ushinatta Station. You were fighting those bums up there and had no hope of doing anything but that. I gave you guidance and helped you land better fights. Real fights.”

“Now Sam’s doing it, in case you didn’t notice. She’s getting me out of this mess.”

“I’m not saying shit about her, kid. Do you see me mentioning her?”

“That’s my point,” Coop said. “If you had it your way, she wouldn’t even be in my life. As soon as she takes a more active role in my life and career, you slink away like the snake you are.”

“Is that what you think of me? You think so low of me that I don’t want to see you happy? This conversation isn’t worth my time. Go jack into the stimnet and zone out or something.”

“Yeah, you go train a bunch of dead enders who’ll never get off of this rock and into an actual fight.”

“Maybe they will, maybe they won’t,” he said. “I don’t know if it matters, kid. We hold events here every week, place is jam-packed. My best guy losing to a living legend won’t kill this off. This is sustainable, can’t you see that? I’m not traveling all over, waiting on some snot-nosed brat every second of my life.”

“Snot-nosed?” He scoffed. “You’re a selfish, lecherous old bastard that had no one, anything or any ambition. I’m different from you and it eats you up alive. You can stay here with your parade of pathetic punks. This isn’t for me.”

“Yeah, go back to Ushinatta and get scarred up some more,” Regis said. “That’ll teach me.”

“I left them the regen tank, you know that?” Coop pressed. “I gave them a gift, because that’s the kind of guy I am.”

“Great, maybe they can get sanctioned and make something of themselves.”

“You... you think that’s all there is to this life, huh?” Coop balled his fists up, trying to suppress his anger after catching a glimpse at his beaten down uncle. “You pathetic little runt of a man. They don’t fight just for the money or the fame there. They fight because it matters to them. I don’t expect you to understand this, just like you never understood me.”

“I... I only wanted what was best for you, kid,” Regis admitted. “Look, I’m sorry if it seemed like I was out for myself or whatever. I’m not getting any younger, and watching you spiral down wasn’t great. There has to be something more for me than life on the road. I don’t expect you to get that just yet. I just hope someday you forgive me is all.”

“Forgive you?” Coop paused, glaring down at the case for his bat, remembering the awful attempt of a gift from the coach and his uncle when he trained here and the look of disappointment on his uncle’s face when he hated it. Trying to wrap his head around everything that was happening between the two overwhelmed him. Although admitting it out loud would be difficult, there was a genuine chance he was blowing this all out of proportion. “What’s there to forgive if all this was to you was just a paycheck?”

Coop grabbed the case and stormed off, his uncle protesting behind him, but the words drowned out by the rest of the locker room and his own internal thoughts. Just like everyone else had, his uncle chose to leave, no matter how he candy-coated it. In the end, it was him looking out for himself, not for Coop, like he’d promised.

Emotions echoed and swelled inside of him, from anger to sorrow to everything else in between. His uncle was the only family he had left and things never seemed to click since the Kriger fight. It was almost like he’d gotten too close to the sun, and this was his punishment.

“Coop? Coop?” A voice smashed through his defenses. “Coop!”

“Huh, what?” he looked around, dazed, only to see Sam standing there with a smirk on her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Just... shit with my uncle, is all. Why?”

“You don’t look so great,” she said. “You need to hit the regen tank?”

“Yeah, I was heading to do that now, I guess. Although, I kinda want to leave.”

“You know the regen tank needs to happen sooner rather than later. You took a nasty hit to the shoulder. Can you at least give me a few hours in there?”

“Fuck it,” he said. “Fine. Then we’re off of this rock and not coming back. Regis can have his loser brigade.”

“Okay, good.”

“Was that all?” he asked.

“No, so... look, something came through after that fight and...”

“And what?” Her smile only grew, while Coop, never one for surprises and already irritated, wasn’t in the mood for guessing games, although he didn’t dare tell her and burst her bubble.

“Tuup proposed something big,” she said. “Something real big. The winner gets a shot at Kriger.”

“What?” His heart soared. “Are you fucking kidding me? You got me a contender’s fight off of that shitty little fight?”

“Sort of! Hear me out,” she said. “It’s a tournament.”

“A tournament?” Great, just what he needed. “How many fucking fights?”

“Four,” she said.

“Four fights? Ugh, well, it’s not a contender’s fight, but it’s close enough, just gotta win four fights. Right?”

“In a night,” she said.

“In a fucking night?!” A one-night tournament, that was madness. “Are you kidding me?”

“Take it or leave it, Coop. Winner gets Kriger.”

“Then I’m taking it,” he said. “Fuck it.”