Something about being in the gym again—his gym—and getting lost in his training helped to take the edge off from recent events. There were no easy fixes to any of Coop’s actual problems, but understanding other people doing what’s best for their own wellbeing and the world not revolving around him was a crucial step, or at least that’s what he thought. Although Sam claimed everything was okay between the two of them, there was still a hesitance in her he couldn’t shake. An artificial barrier she had erected, waiting to see if this was another of Coop’s big promises he wouldn’t deliver on.

Not that he blamed her.

The programmable mech was giving him one hell of a workout. Ever since he’d returned to his own gym and his own training, the mech never left the Kriger program. A few losses couldn’t erase the fact that Coop was one of the best fighters in the galaxy and the only thing to stand in his way was that giant bastard Kriger. Somewhere, lurking in the shadows, was Skidz, but the man that fought him last wasn’t the same one and those conditions were far from optimal. If he had to fight that poor asshole for a fourth time, it would be quick and painless. A one-night tournament and Skidz having a win over Coop meant he’d be in the conversation, meaning getting a shot at Kriger or seeded in the tournament. Coop leaned against the powered down mech, a silent menace that, unlike the real thing, he could turn off when he needed a break. Sweat soaked his shirt and his breathing was heavy while Sam was engaged in a call in the corner, turning to face him.

“Good news?” he asked, attempting to sound chipper and engaged, fighting through the exhaustion.

“They are sticking to the live draw,” she said. “So no, not really. We won’t know who you’re fighting until the day before. That won’t give us a ton of time to prepare. It’s supposedly random, but I don’t trust Tuup as far as I can throw his zondian ass.”

“Know what you mean,” he said. “Tuup’s a genuine piece of work. Him and my uncle are a match made in heaven sometimes.”

“Anyway, I uh...”

“What?” Dramatic pauses were never a good thing, especially from Sam.

“I got some of the names and it’s pretty much what you expected.”

“Fucking Skidz again?” he groaned.

“Of course Skidz is involved. Beating you was a step forward for him. I doubt they want you two to fight again so soon,” she said. “Although, even if you’re on opposite sides of the tournament, there’s a chance it could happen again.”

“I can handle Skidz. Don’t worry about that.”

“It’s not Skidz I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” he asked.

“There’s another human in the tournament,” she said.

The words hung thick in the air before it hit Coop. There weren’t many humans who could hang in the arenas. In fact, there weren’t any outside of Coop that were established. Unless...

“Is it that Robert Butch guy?” he asked.

“You mean Robert Burns?”

“Oh, right. The guy I beat up?”

“No, it’s not him,” she said. “I’m not sure how to break this one to you.”

“Just tell me already.”

“Remember that guy you fought on Ushinatta?” she asked.

“TAKASHI?” A laugh burst from somewhere deep inside. “Bullshit to that. TAKASHI is an old dog full of cybernetic implants. They wouldn’t take him, not that he’d ever offer himself up like that.”

“No, the other guy.”

“Ohhh shit,” Coop said. “Ramirez?”

“Yeah,” she said. “They announced Ruthless Ramirez today on top of Skidz and a few others.”

“Nobody from Ushinatta has ever gotten the call before,” he said. “What changed?”

“You know what changed, Coop. You were there. It made galactic news.”

“It did?” Ever since his fall from grace, he didn’t pay any mind to current affairs. They trashed him from all angles. The entertainment people thought he was a joke, the sports people urged someone “better” to emerge and take his spot, like somehow he hadn’t earned it, and the politicians spoke about finding a suitable replacement considering clout in the arena meant clout for a race. Not that he ever listened to them when they met with him to discuss how important his role was within humanity’s interests. Fuck them.

“Uh yeah, Coop. Video of you and Ramirez beating the shit out of each other made the rounds.”

“You didn’t tell me about it.”

“If you were me, and you saw a bunch of headlines about you having a ‘crisis of identity’ on an outlaw station getting beaten up by a no-name, would you have said anything?”

“He’s not a no-name,” Coop argued, almost missing the point. “But no, I wouldn’t have.”

“We know he’s for real,” she said.

“Now everyone else is going to find out as well.”

“How do you... feel about this?” She was trying to be sensitive about it. It was kinda cute, although it made him feel bad to understand how off he’d been that she needed to worry about his moods like this. How long had that been going on?

“Good for him. Really.” Ramirez was a powerful fighter, foolish, but just as good as anyone else he’d fought.

“You aren’t upset that another human is going to be sharing your spotlight?”

“Me? No,” he said. “This makes my life easier. By contrast, I’m not some wild renegade anymore. I’m just Coop Sabre.”

“You won’t be humanity’s lone representative on this level anymore if he can cobble together a few wins in the arena,” she said.

“That’s great,” he said. “If anyone can do it, it’s him. Shit, I guess it makes sense. He didn’t seem to have any major implants or anything yet. Having another human around would take the pressure off of me.”

“You’re... taking this a lot better than I thought you would.” Surprise was laced with respect, making Coop smile at her reaction.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this tournament now.”