Hard Rock Stadium, Miami, Florida, New American Republic, December, 2036

“What a fine day for action!” Chip looked into the camera. “We’re coming to you live from the Hard Rock! The weather is Florida perfect! Right, Lanny!”

“You said it, partner! Nothing quite like a comfortably sunny Saturday in December! Christmas is just around the corner and our king’s got several great early presents for the tens of thousands in attendance and the million watching at home!” Lanny said.

“Third round action in our Gold Division one versus one tournament! Or as Lanny and I like to call it, the Sweet Sixteen!” Chip said.

“Our older viewers will remember the good old days. You might even remember Chip here, calling those games. The New Year’s bowl games were my thing. Called a few of those myself…” a faraway look crossed over Lanny’s face.

“The good old days,” Chip agreed. “But, that’s long gone and buried. We are here to bring you the great new today and hopefully for many tomorrow’s to come!”

“That’s right, Chip. Today we’ve got two awesome matches to determine who advances into the next round. In our first match it’s the street fighter from sunny Southern California, Shrewed versus our own homegrown Blood-soaked Assassin! What do you think, Chip!” Lanny said.

“We’re supposed to be impartial, so I should say that I just want to watch a good, hard fought match with exciting action. Not like yesterday’s matches where The Magus of the Ten Eyes dismantled Gearlok and the Emerald Bomber took down Steel Hammer going the distance. Not to take anything away from the winners, but those weren’t enjoyable matches to watch for two reasons. One was too quick and one was too long. But… I have to support our hometown competitor.”

“I’m looking forward to finding out the Blood-soaked Assassin’s identity. He or she promised to remove the hood and mask if he or she makes it to the Final Four.”

“Did you bet on the identity pool?”

“I sure did!”

“Good luck with that! And for last match of the day. It’s the man with the glowing balls, Orb versus the brutal, bestial, Rou!” Chip said.

“Would you consider Rou a hometown fighter? Lanny said.

“Yeah, I’d say so. He lives out in the Everglades, but that is part of our territory.”

“I don’t know, Chip, word behind the scenes is that he isn’t great to be around and I’m putting that lightly.”

“Well, Lanny… these are fighters. They’re not supposed to be nice. I want them as mean as possible when they’re out there killing monsters and defending us from the bad guys. So, I’m backing Rou… is what I’d say if I wasn’t being impartial,” Chip winked to the camera.

“I don’t have have any problems saying it. Hey, Rou, if you’re watching this… kick ass out there today!” Lanny laughed.

“Alright, folks. That’s all from me and Lanny for now. We’ll be back to call the action in an hour,” Chip said.

“Remember to tune in for all the post-match analysis from our panel of experts after each match today. Later tonight we’ll have even more in-depth coverage brought to you by Kandis Crawford and Trent R. Thompson along with expert guest analysts on our comprehensive coverage show, The Four.”

“We’ve got extra special treats courtesy of the king for the people in attendance and watching at home. An opening concert by the Tempertones… and that’s not all. Stick around after the first match for another mini-concert staring one of the hottest rising singer-songwriters out there, Tyler Hasty!”

“She’s good,” Lanny added, “same with the Tempertones.”

“I hope she sings Walk It Off.”

The camera faded to black transition to the view from a drone camera down on the field.

Loud smoke and fireworks filled the stadium.

A band rose up from beneath the temporary stage and began to rock!

In a locker room three rangers huddled together for some last minute preparation.

“This is straight from the boss. He said to strongly consider stripping the skinny fucker,” Mouthy said.

“I’m gonna need an elaboration,” Shrewed said.

“He didn’t give one,” Hardhat sighed, “the message just said to tell you to expose the Blood-soaked Assassin’s skin to the sunlight.”

“Are you kidding me? So, he’s a he and a vampire? Or is it vampire?” Shrewed said.

“Woke up to the note stuck to my forehead and let me fucking tell you that didn’t put me in a good mood,” Mouthy said.

“Right through all the wards and magitech alarms,” Shrewed whistled.

“Yeah, so, you’re fighting a vampire,” Hardhat said. “No big deal, sun’s out even though it’s almost Christmas.”

“It’s Florida, weird shit down here in America’s dangling turd,” Shrewed shrugged. “I knew a few guys from here back in the old days… smacked them around, come to think of it.”

“Floridaman shit,” Mouthy nodded. “Had to explain what that meant to the kids. Hey, Hardhat, since when did we get old?”

“Since it’s 2036 or 16… P.S.,” Hardhat said.

“Don’t start with that P.S. bullshit,” Shrewed laughed.

“What’s the matter? It’s one thing too many for your Neanderthal brain to process?” Hardhat snorted.

“I can deal with all the monsters and magic, but don’t change the year system on me,” he chuckled.

“Fuck it, I might go with the new way… easier to write two numbers instead of four on all my taint- cutting reports. Shrewed, do yourself a favor… if they offer to promote you, turn it down,” Mouthy said.

“Oh, I made it clear I wasn’t interested in any sort of command. I’m a weapon. Point me at something you want busted up or dead,” he replied. “So, all I got to do is get this guy naked? Sounds easy enough. Though, I got my doubts about that. Just wearing black shouldn’t protect him from the sun. It’s not like he’s in an astronaut suit.”

“Could be magical thread or Skills,” Hardhat said. “Blood Assassin dude isn’t wearing goggles or anything. Eyes and a thin strip of his face is exposed and he isn’t bursting into flame.”

“Shit, can’t believe everything you see in the movies. Maybe it ain’t about catching on fire. Might be more like a really bad sunburn. Like a few minutes for him is like a whole day out in the sun for someone with your pale, pasty ass, Hardhat.”

“Been using a ton of sunscreen the last few months. Again, in December,” Hardhat said.

“I’ll give it a shot. I have to grapple him anyways to stand a chance. He’s too quick otherwise,” Shrewed shrugged.

“That’s right. Don’t let him slice you to ribbons like the last guy he fought. Clinch, takedown, work him over on the ground, like you did that creepy, fat taint smear last week,” Mouthy said.

A knock on the door.

The stadium attendant ushered them down long, twisting corridors down to the tunnel leading up to the field.

The roaring crowd’s singular voice echoed down into the tunnel even as their stomping feet simulated an earthquake.

“Bloodthirsty animals,” Hardhat said.

“Ain’t much different from cheering an old boxing fight,” Shrewed said.

“I don’t know, man, but it seems a little different to me,” Hardhat said.

“Nah, he’s right, the crowd wants to see some pain dished out, same way it’s always been,” Mouthy said.

“Might actually be better nowadays with all the healing magic and Skills. Don’t think I have to worry about CTE,” Shrewed said.

The gate slowly slid open.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Mouthy slapped Shrewed’s butt.

“Thought they talked to us about that sort of thing,” he shook his head.

“We ain’t on official ranger business. You’re about to go one on one with a maybe-vampire. You need all the motherfucking help you can get,” Mouthy said.

“Aye, aye, Sergeant,” Shrewed threw a passable salute to the two sergeants before jogging out of the tunnel and into the sunlight.

“I Share Their Pain,” Mouthy whispered.

“Really?” Hardhat said. She lowered her voice. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I had Molds and Babyapple go over the rules. They didn’t say shit about this,” Mouthy shrugged.

“Might get awkward if you pass out and start bleeding all over the place,” Hardhat said.

“That’s why I’m wearing red and long sleeves.”

“Huh? Thought it was because you were getting into the Christmas spirit.”

“I want a pile of motherfucking dead slavers for Christmas, but since that isn’t looking too likely until late January, then I’ll settle for Shrewed getting the fucking ‘W’.”

Shrewed threw a cloud of dirt in front of him before the black-clad ninja assassin crossed where the fifty yard line used to be.

The maybe-vampire had displayed impossible speed.

Like a 1 second 40.

The dirt was enough to confuse and slow Shrewed’s opponent.

Shrewed laid a cut with his heavy cutting blade across the chest.

Black cloth parted to reveal thin steel.

The Blood-soaked Assassin’s red eyes seemed to flash.

Shrewed flinched, turning his head to the side to take the return slash of a long knife on the side of his helmet’s cheek guard.

He activated Automatic Block with a thought.

His free arm shot up to his face to catch the second long knife on his thick, steel bracer.

He snaked his arm around his opponent’s wrist and pulled, trapping it and the blade between his own arm and body.

Dirty Fighting.

A knee to the groin.

The sound the Blood-soaked Assassin made suggest that his junk worked fine, which was weird for a vampire then again that was for fictional ones. Real, class-based ones where probably different. Those flesheaters were cannibal monsters but he was pretty sure that they still fucked.

A second knee shot was followed by jabbing the pommel of his short chopping blade into one of those red eyes.

“Dirty fucker!” the Blood-soaked Assassin growled.

Talking in the middle of a fight?

Rookie move.

Shrewed brought his blade down into the crook of his opponent’s elbow. He pushed and cut.

Cloth parted to reveal chainmail.

The Blood-soaked Assassin pulled him off-balance and into a stab aimed for the chainmail-protected gap at his armpit.

The poke hurt, but didn’t penetrate.

He responded with a steel-clad headbutt to the face.

The crunch of a smashed nose was music to his ears.

His opponent cursed instead of fighting for a better position.

Another mistake.

Shrewed landed knee strikes, elbows and continued to cut and stab searching for a weak spot with his blade.

So far all he found was more thin plates of steel and chainmail.

His opponent was wrapped like a mummy aside from the thin slit for the eyes.

Time to go with the boss’ suggestion.

He grabbed his opponent’s hood and pulled.

It didn’t go.

Is it a onesie? he thought.

The Blood-soaked Assassin’s eyes widened surging with impossible strength, he ripped free of Shrewed’s hold and punched.

The air left Shrewed’s lungs and he was suddenly weightless.

Confusion was followed by the realization knocked into him by the ground as he slammed into it a dozen feet away.

He rolled and came up desperately, blade held wardingly toward the Blood-soaked Assassin.

Even through the steel plate and thick, padded clothing he had felt the hit..

Still… flying that distance should’ve hurt a lot more.

At a minimum it should’ve resulted in broken ribs and organ damage.

Instead, he had just gotten the wind knocked out of him.

His grip on his blade felt off as he tried to shift and fix it, but couldn’t.

A quick glance down revealed black cloth twisted in his fingers.

He looked to his opponent.

“And so, I am revealed,” the Blood-soaked Assassin spread his arms wide to the crowd.

The man sounded like a man, but he was a pretty man.

Pale skin like he spent his days indoors.

Black hair that had been messed up by the rough handling, but looked to Shrewed like those fancy styles the younger people got.

Those weird red eyes.

And yeah, some sharp fangs in that perfect, red mouth.

Fuck, he thought, vampire. Then why isn’t he on fire?

“Yes, the Blood-soaked Assassin is none other than Lord Alain de la Sangre,” he basked in the crowd’s cheers.

“Didn’t ask, don’t care,” Shrewed pulled a trench knife from his belt.

What a poser, he thought as he charged. Play to crowd, lower your guard. You aren’t looking too comfortable with your head in the sun. Let’s see how long you can stay out here.

When he got within a few strides, he threw his heavy blade.

The lord was caught off guard. He tried to parry but his long knife was thin and light.

Shrewed’s blade powered right through the heavy pommel striking the lord right on the forehead.

The lord’s face reddened with anger.

No… it looked more like a sunburn.

The boss was right.

Shrewed brought his charge up short. He backed away.

Let the sun do its work.

De la Sangre bent down and picked Shrewed’s sword up before tossing it at Shrewed’s boots. “A brutish weapon for a brutish man. I know what you’re thinking. Let that hateful orb in the sky win the fight for you. It won’t. You don’t have the time,” he blurred forward.

What followed was a one-side beatdown.

Slashing knives carved Shrewed up finding gaps in his armor.

He felt the kisses from dozens of stinging wounds.

And yet, he felt like he could still keep going.

The pain was there, but muted beyond what he was accustomed to when the adrenaline flowed.

Dirty Fighting couldn’t keep up.

Oh, he landed the occasional hit, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

Teeth and a sharp fang went flying from a collision with the spiked knuckle guard of a trench knife only to grow back whole in a second.

The lord gave him a bloody-fanged smile before lifting him up like small child and slamming him into the ground.

Shrewed kicked at the lord’s ankle only for the lithe vampire to simply lift his foot up and bring it down with a crunch on Shrewed’s lower leg.

Pain flared, but again, it became muted. Not as bad as it should’ve been.

The lord lifted Shrewed up by the front of his chest plate.

Shrewed stabbed and punched to no avail.

“You’ve lost and you’ve been a terrible opponent. No grace at all. Worst of all, you’ve revealed me before I was ready. My revelation was meant to be in the finals and now my future opponents know who I am.”

“Just shut up!” Shrewed snapped.

The lord backhanded him sending teeth flying.

“The crowd expects a show,” the lord held a hand out to the side with his thumb pointed horizontally.

“This ain’t no Roman death match,” Shrewed laughed. “Killing’s against the rules.”

“I don’t intend to kill you.”

The crowd continued to cheer.

Whether or not more people held their thumbs up or down didn’t matter.

The lord intended to put on a show.

Intimidate his future opponents and make sure that the crowd and those watching at home had something to talk about.

He knew that his name would be on their lips in the days to come.

Perhaps he would gain fans, a following, groupies.

His thumb turned to the ground.

The cheers erupted like a volcano.

The sound in the arena became deafening.

“The crowd has spoken.”

Shrewed threw one last punch.

The lord blocked it. A look of pain crossed his fine features a split-second later.

Shrewed had stabbed him in the side of the neck.

The lord pulled the blade out. “You’re lucky that’s not fatal for me.”

“I was pretty sure it wasn’t,” Shrewed spat a glob of blood into the lord’s face.

“You really are an annoying bastard, you know that?” the lord sighed as he ripped Shrewed’s collar to expose the neck.

“What the fuck! You can’t—”

“I need to heal all these wounds.”

The lord hissed, baring fangs before sinking them into Shrewed.

Later in the stadium’s bowels, Mouthy and Hardhat waited outside the medic’s station.

The former sat heavily in a chair. Her clothing looked damp in spots.

“You think he’s going to get vampire now?” Hardhat said.

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Mouthy scowled.

“The vampire guy bit him,” Hardhat said.

“You can ask him when he wakes up—”

“He won’t—”

The rangers jolted at the voice.

Lord Alain de la Sangre stood a short distance away.

They hadn’t sensed him coming at all.

Mouthy bared her teeth in a snarl as she stood.

“At least not for some time,”Alain continued, sniffing the air. “You’ve been in a fight?”

“You ain’t the bloodfucker that can ask the questions here,” Mouthy spat. “We’ll be the ones asking.”

“Did you give Shrewed a vampire class?” Hardhat said.

“No. It takes more than a bite. It needs a willing embrace from both the giver and the taker. I would never grant your friend the blood kiss. He is too brutish, inelegant.”

“Okay, lucky for you then. You can take your leeching ass out of here,” Mouthy waved dismissively. “Pucker-faced freakshow,” she muttered.

“I heard that,” Alain bristled.

“That was the point,” Hardhat said.

“I came to tell your friend that despite his dirty style and underhandedness… I hold no ill will. I recognize that not all competitors in this tournament holds to the same standards as I do. It is sad, but those are the rules that I agreed to follow. Pass my message along. And ladies,” his red eyes narrowed, “it’d behoove you to remember that you speak to a lord.”

“We don’t do lords. None of that stupid divine right bullshit,” Mouthy smirked.

Alain returned a toothy smile. “What your kind does is irrelevant to mine. I suggest that you don’t stick around too long after the championships end or you might find out the truth of my words.”

“Fuck around and find out, yeah, yeah. Been threatened by lots worse than you,” Mouthy snorted.

“Alain,” Hardhat said. “I, too, have a thinly-veiled threat couched in substandard words of wisdom,” she cleared her throat, “something, something big fishes in small ponds… so on and so forth.”

“Hmm… I’ll surely spend agonizing hours pondering that pearl,” Alain snorted before turning and walking away.

“Notice how he doesn’t make any sounds,” Hardhat said.

“That’s them vampire Skills… maybe Shrewed should get the class,” Mouthy mused.

Three women and one man stood in the tunnel watching and listening to the musical act perform.

“All these guys have been great,” Jake bobbed his head along with the music. “It’s all live too, you can tell! No stupid auto tune. No lip syncing. You think it’s Skills? It’s got to be Skills, right?”

“Where the hell have you been?” Rino frowned. “We’ve got the same back home.”

“Yeah, there’s the Saturday concert in the park at the Capital. There’s open mic nights at a few clubs. There’s musicals at the theater. There’s random musicians on the street,” Kare ticked off each one with a finger.

“Huh?” Jake blinked. “Okay… I guess I just never noticed…”

“They’re talking about weaponizing it, cause if the singer or musician is high enough level or has the right set of Skills it gives you tangible beneficial effects,” Rino said.

“That actually makes sense,” Jake nodded like he had just realized that the sky was blue, “it could probably also have negative effects on enemies, like a bard buffing his party and debuffing his enemies. Why haven’t I thought about this before?”

“You should turn in your nerd card,” Kare said.

“I don’t understand,” Ginessa said.

“It’s probably better that way,” Kare patted the short young woman on the head.

“Shit! Is that why I’m feeling pumped right now?” Jake said.

“Yeah,” Rino shrugged, “or you just haven’t listened to live music in over fifteen years.”

“True that… don’t have space on my devices for music, man… I can’t believe this never occurred to me,” Jake sighed.

They listened to the concert wind down.

The crowd cheered the band and dancers off the field.

The stadium’s enslaved ground crew quickly and efficiently disassembled the temporary stage.

“They look so happy,” Ginessa said.

“It’s all fake. The collars make them do that,” Rino growled.

“I know, that’s why it’s so sad and terrible. I just think about what if it was me. I wouldn’t even know that what they were doing to me was wrong,” Ginessa said.

“Yes, yes, slavery bad,” Kare said. “That’s our problem for later. Right now we need to focus on Rino’s fight.”

“Yeah, let’s head back to the locker room,” Jake said.

“Nah… I’m good here,” Rino stared with laser focus on the enslaved out on the field with the disturbingly uniform smiles on their faces. Men, women, young, old. It made no difference.

“Okay,” Jake shrugged.

“Remember, you don’t have to win,” Kare said.

“Good pep talk, glad we had it,” Rino snorted.

“I’m serious!” Kare pouted.

“Yeah… we do have more important goals… but, I’ve gotten more Universal Points in the two fights I won than I have all year doing the normal shit back home. Also got bonuses,” she shrugged.

Jake let out a squeal that didn’t fit such a big man. “Really? What are they? Tell me… we need to optimi—”

“Too late, spent them.”

Jake let out a breath. “What’d you get?” he said flatly.

“A secret for now. I got one with an eye toward future possible opponents… in the arena or outside of it.”

“True Patriot wears a blindfold, but she doesn’t move like a woman that can’t see,” Ginessa said.

“Her eyes or whatever’s in the sockets glow,” Rino nodded.

“Just don’t get hit with her glowy stick and maybe take away her blind—” Kare said.

“She could have a petrification gaze, like Medusa, or something lethal, which is why she keeps them covered up. Big no no for the tournament,” Jake said.

“So, don’t take away her blindfold,” Kare added.

“Doesn’t matter too much, I guess. You’re right, winning isn’t the priority. I’m gonna hold back and if I can’t win, then so be it.”

“Well… don’t get hurt too badly, either,” Kare chided.

The gate slowly slid open.

“It’s going to be a quick fight, one way or another,” Rino jogged out onto the field to the roars of the crowd.

True Patriot emerged from the tunnel on the opposite side of the field with her American flag blindfold.

Rino’s opponent was clad in a mixture of plate, chain and the combat harness of a 21st century soldier. Just like every competitor representing the supposed true U.S. Government. With one exception. The True Patriot’s gear was in pure white.

Well… not so white after two matches.

The pistol and knife on her hips didn’t concern Rino.

The faintly glowing stick did.

She had seen highlights of True Patriot’s previous matches.

The stick looked like it had been picked up off the ground. It was thin, gnarled and still had bark. It had smacked a huge, grotesquely muscled man into the arena wall. It had cratered the arena floor forcing a slight delay in the next match while the ground crew frantically rushed to fix it.

The announcer did his thing.

The countdown began.

True Patriot wasn’t wearing a helmet. She had her brunette hair tied in a ponytail.

She regarded Rino impassively. Blindfold-covered eyes shined with faint, white light as Rino felt hackles rise.

Not so blind.

True Patriot inclined her head slightly.

Rino shot back with a curt head nod.

She called on her beastly class.

Muscles grew.

A thin layer of black hair sprouted across her body.

The pixie-styled hair on her head grew longer, wild and thick.

Nails thickened, lengthened and sharpened.

She flexed her bare toes, digging into the dirt.

A feral grin split her mouth to reveal sharp canines as she crouched into a sprinter’s stance.

Halfway between woman and weredog.

She didn’t need to win, but she wasn’t going to just roll over and show her belly.

The siren blared.

She shot forward with a cloud of dirt and dust.

The white light behind True Patriot’s blindfold flared simultaneously with the light around her stick.

She leapt forward with great bounding strides.

The two powerful women met where the fifty yard line once sat with a crash that silenced the roaring crowd.