“I knew you’d do this but why do you gotta keep antagonizing me?”

“Oh, c'mon Slava you can’t always be cooped up in your own world. There’s so much to explore!” said Sasha sarcastically.

In the middle of the room stood three giant spheres. Like giant three-dimensional screens, they depicted different scenes. The one on the left showed two people punching and kicking at each other in a middle eastern setting, while the one on the left showed two people grappling and tossing each other around a small arena.

As they approached the middle one which was completely black, Slava exclaimed:

“You bitch!” Despite his cruel words, he was smiling.

“Haha! Are you gonna chicken out?” Not waiting for his response, Sasha walked over.

“I’m gonna crush you!” he said with pure excitement in his voice.

“Then I’ll be waiting for you inside,” winking, she walked through an opening that had just formed on the sphere as her suit morphed to cover her face, emitting a slight purple glow.

With the odd look of some of the training bystanders, he rushed to the other side to do the same. He never liked to come here, especially because of these gazes, but at that moment, he couldn't care less. His blood was boiling, his heart was pumping. The thought of finally fighting a worthy opponent inside a training chamber made him ecstatic.

Entering the chamber he was faced with a familiar black silhouette. Soon enough, the whole scenery changed to that of a huge medieval arena.

“It’s my setting… so…” said the dark figure in front of him.

Slava stared on as it shifted into something more familiar. In front of him now stood Sasha wearing a qipao. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and her outfit was split down the sides of her legs revealing her thighs and calves.

His stare couldn't help but linger as he spoke:

“Are you purposely trying to piss me off? Or are you trying to distract me from the fight?” To be honest, she was probably trying to do both.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

Rolling his eyes, he snapped his fingers. His previously black appearance morphed into one of himself wearing simple pants with bandages wrapped around his knuckles. His upper body was bare, leaving his well-defined muscles exposed.

Taking a deep breath, he signaled for her to approach. Not hesitating, Sasha pounced on him. Before she could reach him, Slava took a few steps back. Expecting this, she landed on her hands. Following inertia, her feet left the ground, and using that momentum she spun her whole body. Seeing that he was trapped, Slava grit his teeth. When her foot was about to strike his temple, he followed its movements. Stepping to the side, he braced for impact and once it hit, he tried using his usual technique of redirecting the blow but as he tried to grab onto the leg to divert its trajectory, he noticed too late the other leg passing over his head. The leg that he was about to grab suddenly pivoted and before he knew it, she was grabbing onto his arm, choking him with her legs.

“You’re so predicta…” Knowing he was stuck, Slava threw himself onto the ground. As they hit the floor, a loud “crack” was heard.

Rolling to the side, Sasha recovered. “You’re crazy!”

Slowly standing back up, Slava chuckled. “Haha! Look who’s talking,” saying this, he held his arm and with a grunt swiftly locked it back into place. Taking a deep breath he stared at her signaling for her to approach once more.

“You…” she said, a mix of emotions tangled up in her throat. Frowning slightly, she dashed towards him. She seemed faster this time, and when she reached him, she started throwing kicks at incredible speeds, but somehow Slava seemed to have no issues dodging and deflecting her moves.

She was agitated, her moves were fast yet predictable. He knew that she was physically superior to him. He wasn’t American after all. The only way he could win would be through his technique.

They were both genetically modified humans. Ever since he came to this country he had been going through genetic modification procedures. In the beginning, they were only targeted at small things like physical appearance, but as he decided to enter the military, they started to include modifications targeting his muscles, bones, and organs.

Every now and then, Slava would throw targeted punches and kicks at specific areas. Sasha was starting to feel the weight of the hits. Her reactions were visibly getting sluggish.

The modifications were made through bone marrow injections. Genetically modified stem cells would be injected and over time these new cells would overtake the original ones. This process had to be done slowly and the older the patient was the higher the chances were for there to be complications later on. The beauty of it was that the modifications were extremely subtle yet impactful. For example, the muscle modifications wouldn’t increase the volume, but the density of the muscles, creating a greater opportunity for self-improvement. All of these small modifications made them more durable, resistant, and resilient.

Grunting with sweat dripping down her forehead, Sasha spun herself around, preparing herself to kick her opponent in the liver. He could see it now, as the foot was about to hit him, he moved to the side, grabbing onto it and using the momentum from her second foot that was about to hit his face, he threw her whole body to the edge of the arena, narrowly escaping.

The only problem with gene modification was that Sasha had gone through way more of them. She was the niece of the richest man in the country, she was also probably not a purely natural child.

“Goddammit Slava my insides are burning, my joints are stinging. Are you trying to kill me?” she said panting, wiping some blood from her lips.

“You already know that Sasha, I always fight to kill and I suggest you do the same.” He wasn’t joking, that was why he had accepted their spar. That was why he had been so excited. He could go all out. Now that the warmup was over, he would have to take a beating.

Soon enough his grin was wiped off by Sasha’s knee. He was pushed a few steps back and as some blood started running down his nose a familiar robotic voice rang in his ears.

“Suit integrity damaged, recommended…” Not letting the voice finish, Slava retorted; “Disable all notifications!”; “Are you sure? This…”; “Yes!”

Bracing for impact, he received a kick to the liver that he was able to absorb by releasing his breath. The next few minutes were hellish. He was almost unable to evade. Left with no openings, he was stuck constantly redirecting blows. Oddly enough he was smiling. And as one of Sasha’s kicks drove him to the ground, he was able to push her away into one of the walls.

“It’s over,” he thought. Not for her but for him, she was royally pissed. Jumping back up to his feet, not bothering to look back at his opponent, he grinned, knowing what was about to happen. As he tried to lean forward, his bleeding face was grabbed and he was thrown into the wall. Feeling the wall crack behind him, he glanced at his opponent. The last thing he saw was Sasha’s anger-filled face slowly morphing into a smile spiked with a tinge of sadness.