After everything Coop had been through, all roads again led to Skidz. His time in the regen tank was short, but long enough for Skidz to dispatch his flaxian opponent in brutal fashion. When Coop emerged, Sam was deep in a conversation, pacing around the room.

Toweling himself off, Coop threw his arms around her, Sam laughing and elbowing him in the ribs to get him off. It hurt, but he played it up more than he needed to, doing his best to stay in a positive mindset.

“I’m talking to your uncle,” she said. “So chill.”

“Regis jealous now that I’m doing well again?” Although a joke, nothing would surprise Coop anymore.

The Coop of a few weeks ago would simmer over any involvement with his uncle, but it was a momentary glimmer of dread that dissipated into the aether. His fight clothes were stained and torn at, but not in a major way. They slid on, soiled and sweaty, a contrast to his freshly tanked body. Whatever Sam’s conversation was about ended, leaving her staring at him and shaking her head.

“What?” he asked.

“You went easy on him,” she said.

“Look, it’s his first time out there.” Having a soft spot wasn’t a bad thing. “It wasn’t too bad. We both got out alive and I’m fine to fight again.”

“As long as you think so. Skidz, on the other hand, looked unstoppable tonight. After your last fight—”

“I’m not worried about it, Sam. Please.” Her concern was touching, but unnecessary. “I’ve beaten him before and I’ll beat him again.”

“You’re tired, Coop. I can see it in your eyes.” Sam moved in closer, Coop wrapping his hands around her waist. “Things are... good now. You’re doing better now, we’re doing better. I’m just afraid of what another loss to this creep would mean.”

“Sam, I... Shit, I know things have been going well and I don’t want that to change.” She had a point. Losses before had crushed Coop, leaving his mind an existential puddle of goop. “If I’m gonna keep doing this, I’ve gotta find a way to keep it together, win or lose.”

“That’s great. I don’t want you doing it for me, though,” she said.

“Trust me, I understand.” He planted a kiss on her cheek, leaning back to stare into her eyes. “I’m keeping myself together because it’s the right thing to do, Sam. For us.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“What did Regis want, anyway?” The thought of his uncle’s invisible hand gripping him again sent a shiver down his spine.

“He wanted to wish you luck, and to remind you about the eye,” she said.

“Fucking Skidz,” he said. “You fuck a guy’s eye up and he never lets it go. Of course I know he’s aiming for my eye. He always does.”

“I’m not sure I can save you this time.”

“Yeah, I know. Trust me, Regis pounded it into my head that regen tanks can’t repair complex things like eyes, heart, brain and some of the other major organs.”

“You never told me about the major organ thing,” Sam said.

“Didn’t want you to worry, is all. There're risks that come with what I do and they’re real.”

“That’s certainly a risk.”

“Just...don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

***

Skidz wasted no time, barreling forward the nanosecond the bell rang, smashing one of his massive six arms across the neck of Coop that batted him to the ground before Coop could prepare. The night’s previous two fights fogged him over worse than he assumed it had. Skidz’s lowermost arms wrapped around Coop’s waist, dead lifting him off the dust-clouded ground, sending him flying and crashing down onto his neck and shoulders.

In a heartbeat, the spear stabbed downward at his head, Coop rolling out of the way. With the spear’s head stuck in the ground, Coop summoned up his strength and their conjoined history, rolling back to his feet while his neck burned from where the brandian’s flesh touched his own.

Coop swung the bat in a haphazard arc toward Skidz, the brandian having learned his lesson and relented his grip on the spear, backing up so the bat smacked against the spear. The speed of the blow and elasticity of the pole slapped the bat back where it came from, almost toppling Coop over, Skidz pouncing, grabbing his legs with his bottom arms, tackling him to the ground with his legs bound tight together. Next came the rain of blows, a vicious rain of hardened fists onto Coop’s face. His sheer weight and strength made it impossible to spring back up, Coop arcing the bat towards him but Skidz catching it in the soft flesh of his palm, screaming out for the briefest of moments without losing focus on turning Coop’s face into meat.

With nothing else to lose, Coop swung the bat again, Skidz not expecting its toothy barbs digging into his soft belly. The alien let out another scream, swatting it away, giving Coop another opening, this time bringing his left fist up and connecting flush on the alien’s jaw.

“Fuck you!” Skidz shouted."I’m getting my payback on you, human."

Before Coop could retort, he squeezed harder, four of his six arms enshrouding him in a makeshift, brandian cocoon. Only Coop’s right hand, with the bat, was free, but the pressure from Skidz paralyzed him, making movement all-but impossible.

Skidz gripped onto the top of Coop’s skull with his left claw, holding it like a vice, leaving Coop’s right eye, the bad one, staring up at the incoming free hand. The thumb and forefinger had long, pointed nails, incoming and occluding everything else in the arena. All Coop could see was the impending doom of Skidz’s hand, attempting to tear the eye out of its socket.

All Coop could do was scream out when the nails sunk into his flesh, an immediate pressure that threatened to take his consciousness. He cried out but couldn’t make out his own words, hand still gripping the bat with all his might. The claws ground into his face deeper, sharp, piercing pain unlike he’d ever felt before, while all he could see was blurred and scattered. His thumb rested on the explosive switch of the bat, powering it off, knowing there was only one hope of getting out of this. Survival was all he could think of, not winning or losing, just getting this brute off of him. Skidz’s grip on his body had loosened, the top arms pressed against his head leaving an opening. Coop took his shot, jamming the barbed wire bat between their two bodies, feeling the kiss of the barbs while they ground the two of them.

When Skidz let out a cry, his grip loosened just enough, Coop flicking the switch on the bat to full power, a wave of heat and a boom engrossing them in their deadly embrace.

Skidz relented, falling back and screaming out, the pressure relieved from Coop’s body, allowing him to breathe. Everything burned, blood everywhere; on his body, streaming down his face and Skidz was himself a disgusting heap on the ground. This was who Coop was, though. Coop was a deathmatch wrestler, his body battered, bruised and burned to a crisp. Using the bat as a guide, he stumbled to his feet, Skidz sitting up, rasping out something in his native tongue and reaching his claws toward Coop, Coop summoning the last vestiges of his strength with the bat set to full blast and smacked him across the face, sending his gooey alien blood flying and his body limp on the ground.

Stumbling to one knee, kept up only by his bat, the crowd flummoxed at how to react, exploding into applause. Coop’s entire face was numb, blood streaming down into his mouth, the taste of iron and dirt accentuated by the pain. Raising his hand high in the air, the crowd cheered, Coop collapsing and blacking out from the pain.

“Coop?” A voice assailed his subconscious. “Coop, get up. Please.”