He had been there for hours. Waiting. Today, he and Koran were supposed to head to the arena. But Raven had arrived early. He needed to keep an eye on the bar. If anything happened inside, he couldn’t be far.
He was lost in thought when ION’s alert startled him.
“Koran is coming.”
ION’s voice, as always, was cold and precise.
Raven raised his head. His eyes quickly picked out three silhouettes emerging from a narrow alley. The one in front—with broad shoulders and a relaxed stride—was unmistakable.
“Hey! Koran, I’m over here!”
Raven’s voice echoed, bouncing off the rusted walls of the street. Koran turned his head and changed direction when he spotted Raven. Two men were walking beside him.
Raven and Koran shook hands firmly.
“I thought we were meeting at the bar, man.” Koran said, eyeing Raven carefully.
Raven scratched the back of his neck and looked away.
“Had a fight with my girl, bro. So I’m waiting here instead. Also… would be better if your guys stayed clear of the place for a bit. I can pay the missing protection fee and the fee for the following week now.”
Koran let out a short laugh, then threw an arm around Raven’s shoulder.
“Forget the fee, man! We’re gonna make bank tonight anyway! And come on, it’s not like there’s a shortage of girls for you! Beat up two or three guys in the arena, and they’ll be all over you!”
Raven nodded and smiled. Thanks to ION’s Psycho-Social Analysis Module, this guy now saw Raven as a friend. Together, they set off.
The arena was smaller than Black Pit, but its crowd gave off a different kind of energy. The walls were covered in graffiti, and spectators shouted from behind steel cages, occasionally spitting at the screens. It was chaotic, but alive. The air itself buzzed with electricity; the scents of blood and adrenaline mingled.
“How much are you betting?” Raven asked, pulling out his digital wallet.
Koran puffed out his chest.
“A solid ten grand!”
Without a word, Raven brought his wallet close to Koran’s device and silently transferred forty thousand credits. Koran’s eyes widened. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
“I had to borrow some from Kornath.” Raven said indifferently.
The name belonged to the leader of the RustJaw gang. When Koran heard the name Kornath ‘Jaws’ Vos, he nearly dropped his wallet. Raven had made up the lie to stop Koran from stealing his money.
“Do you know who I’m up against?”
Koran quickly pulled himself together.
“Hell yeah I do! I lined up the biggest bastard I could find! Odds are looking sweet!”
Raven nodded and walked over to the waiting area for fighters. His eyes briefly scanned the crowd. Shouting fans, puffing e-cigs, people placing bets and praying… All of them were waiting for the next match.
Before long, the names appeared on the screens.
“REX vs ORSON”
Raven had been called to the stage as “Rex.” That was the name he used around the city and he introduced himself to the Koran by that name.
The man across from him was as large as a mountain. Orson… Over two meters tall, with wide shoulders and a thick mat of hair covering his chest—he looked like a bear. He wore nothing on his upper body, but an outsider might’ve thought he was wearing a heavy sweater. His beard reached down to his chest, and his eyes resembled bottomless pits.
Inside the cracked-floor cage, they faced each other. The crowd had gone wild.
“Close-Combat mode is active, Raven.”
ION’s voice came just as Raven’s body was overwhelmed by a strange sensation. His pupils shrank, veins swelled, heart rate spiked—his heart now beat like an engine.
The fight began.
Orson lunged suddenly, arms wide open, trying to grab Raven. But he was slow… very slow. With ION’s help, this felt like child’s play to Raven. But still, he waited. At the last moment, he slipped aside. He fell to the ground, skidding. The crowd thought he wouldn’t even get up. His face looked terrified—but his eyes were cold, focused.
This little play continued for minutes. At every move, he dodged at the last second, fell, stumbled, and got back up. After a while, the crowd grew impatient.
“Fight like a fucking man!”
“Orson, rip that little shit apart!”
The time had come. ION made its move. Sparks of electricity danced at the joints of the Super Punchinator.
Orson lunged again. This time, Raven didn’t dodge. He loosened his body and let himself fall into Orson’s arms. From the outside, he looked like a man too beaten to continue. Orson roared.
“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD!”
As he grabbed Raven’s waist with both hands, Raven lashed out his right hand like a bolt of lightning. His palm slammed into Orson’s face.
With a burst of electricity, Orson’s body started to tremble. His muscles locked up, foam spewed from his mouth, his eyes rolled back. He tried to stay upright, but his knees buckled. The giant crashed to the ground.
Raven remained standing. His breathing was steady. A murmur rose from the crowd. Then came the outrage.
“HE CHEATED!”
“THAT THING SHOULD BE FUCKING BANNED!”
“LET’S SEE YOU FIGHT WITHOUT THE DAMN GLOVE, LITTLE PRICK!”
Most of the bets had gone on Orson. Tens of thousands of credits lost—this crazed crowd was no longer an audience, but a potential lynch mob.
Raven didn’t listen. On the contrary, he walked to the center of the arena. Raised both arms. Eight fingers were curled into fists. Only his middle fingers stood tall.
The metal door of the waiting room had just closed, but the furious shouting from outside still seeped in. The steel walls vibrated, and the faint tremors traveled across the floor to Raven’s feet. His chest was calm. His breath, measured. Not a single drop of sweat.
Koran burst into the room like a spring, his face lit up with the manic grin of a madman.
“One hundred twenty-five fucking grand, man!” he shouted.
“We pulled in a full hundred twenty-five K!”
Raven didn’t say anything—he just smiled. He had already checked the pre-fight odds. He knew the crowd had written him off.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“When’s the next fight?” he asked, as if the credits didn’t matter to him at all.
Koran let out a loud laugh, then grinned with his hands on his hips.
“Normally you’d have to wait a bit—since it’s an armed match. But let’s be real, Rex… half the goddamn district wants to kill you! Someone’ll show up real soon!”
And sure enough, it happened. The announcement echoed off the steel walls:
“REX vs MATIAS”
As the names appeared on the screens, a murmur swept through the crowd. This opponent wasn’t some random brawler. Matias was a seasoned regular of the arena. His right arm was bionic. On the other hand, he wielded a terrifying knuckle duster. Matias was short, but quick—nimble yet brutal.
Raven slid the Super Punchinator onto his right hand. The crowd erupted at the sight.
“Close-Combat mode active.”
ION’s cold voice echoed in his head again.
With a whistle, the fight began.
Matias moved like a shadow. His opening kick seemed straightforward, but it was just a probe. Raven sidestepped effortlessly.
“Incoming from the left.”
Raven tilted his head. The knuckled punch grazed his face and slammed into the cage with a resonant clang.
“Left punch is a feint. A kick will follow.”
Raven leaned into the fake punch, arms guarding tightly—just enough to dodge the real kick. He treated the blow seriously, exaggeratedly rolling across the ground a few times while clutching his shoulder. The crowd roared, jumping from their seats, kicking the iron bars. But there was almost no force behind the feint.
Soon, sweat trickled down Matias’s brow. He realized something was wrong. The man in front of him evaded every strike with precision, and when he did take hits, they were the lightest possible ones.
Then it came—a hard right hook hurled Raven across the cage. His body bounced and slid across the metal floor. The crowd shrieked in excitement. When Raven hit the ground, the metallic echo fueled their rage even more.
Matias didn’t waste a second. He lunged forward with clenched teeth, launching a rapid flurry of punches. Each one missed Raven’s head by mere centimeters, crashing into the floor, sending sparks flying and thudding heavily against the metal.
But Raven’s eyes remained calm. As if everything was going exactly as planned.
In a brief opening, Raven reached up and touched Matias’s bionic arm with his right hand. A focused surge of electricity pulsed from the Super Punchinator, wrapping around the limb. Something cracked inside the metal. A small spark popped, and the micro-motors seized with a sizzle.
Matias flinched—but couldn’t escape.
In the same moment, Raven twisted his body upward, sliding his right arm under Matias’s chin and locking his left hand around his wrist. He bent his torso, dragging Matias down onto himself, and fell back. The neck settled neatly between his forearm and chest.
The choke was sealed.
Matias’s face tensed immediately. Raven lay on his back, Matias hunched over him. But for Matias, this was a death trap. Raven squeezed with all his might—veins bulging, muscles rigid. Matias’s throat was crushed between his chest and his stone-hard forearm. The loop grew tighter with every second.
“They call that move the Guillotine…” Raven whispered, coldly, into his ear.
Matias tried to struggle, but the electricity still lingered in his body. His bionic arm was frozen, and the other wasn’t strong enough. Raven’s grip was so fierce that even at full strength, he wouldn’t have escaped.
His vision blurred. Knees gave out. His body twitched once, twice—then went limp. He had lost consciousness.
Raven rolled Matias off to the side with his knees and stood up. He was out of breath, but his face glowed with pride. The crowd was in chaos. They were kicking the barriers, hurling curses—once again, they’d lost a fortune.
Raven turned and met the eyes of the spectators around the cage. He smiled. It was as if he enjoyed their hatred.
He spread his arms, tilted his head slightly, and gave a mocking bow.
This time, he didn’t head straight back to the waiting room. He’d had enough blood and glory for one day. Koran was waiting at the arena door, eyes gleaming. When he tapped his electronic wallet against Raven’s, the digital numbers shot up:
150,734 Credits.
Koran gave Raven less credit than he should have. Because Raven had asked him not to take tribute from Diana for a few weeks. But still 150,734 credits was a hefty sum.
In another city—especially in Delta-7’s Black Pit—a fighter who pocketed that much wouldn’t see the morning. His head would already be decorating a scrapyard. But this was Delta-6. The dump of B12. And Koran was one of its top dogs.
As they left the arena, Koran excitedly suggested a celebration. Raven just shook his head and declined.
He changed direction and silently walked toward Bottom Bottle Bar.
He peeked in around the corner of the door. No sign of Diana. Only part-timers were behind the counter. Raven walked slowly to the bar and sat on a stool.
“I want a lemonade.”
The barmaid paused for a moment, then headed to the fridge without asking anything. She reached for a glass to pour it, but Raven raised his hand to stop her.
He took the can directly. Pulled out his wallet. His tab was 50 Credits. A few taps, and it was paid.
When Raven left the bar, only 100,000 Credits remained in his account.
The rest? Left as a tip for Diana.
ION // SYSTEM FEEDBACK — [Session: 018 | Operator: Raven Karr]
Interface: ION_v4.6.1_β // Connection Stable [?]
[?] [CCM-01] Close Combat Mode
- Operational Efficiency: Dynamic (Redistributes efficiency across active modules)
- Primary Function:
→ Activates full-spectrum coordination between installed modules for optimized close-quarters performance
→ Prioritizes neural impulse timing, kinetic feedback loops, and reactive energy distribution
→ Dynamically allocates computational resources based on threat proximity and movement patterns
- Core Behavior:
→ Does not add new capabilities; enhances existing ones through strategic synchronization
- Critical Limitation:
→ Extended use may cause thermal buildup and system latency due to over-saturation
→ Optimization quality is directly affected by compatibility and calibration of selected modules
- Active Module Set:
→ NRC-15 – Neurochemical Regulator
→ BEC-07 – Bio-Energy Converter
→ CQC-11 – Close Quarters Combat Support Module
Raven // BODYCHECK
→ Gear:
? Street style clothes (Even though the clothes are a bit baggy, they are cooler this way.)
? Active Defense Surface [Model: AS929] (ION did something. It works now!)
? Emoji Mask (Why wear a mask if you want to show your facial expressions?)
→ Weapon:
? Left Hook of God? (Seriously? This ancient wrist-slam still here? Next to the Super Punchinator? No tech, no spark—just bruises and delusions of divine relevance.)
? Combat Knife [Model: M-12] (The only thing left of Rex.)
? Super Punchinator [Left] (Boom! It can punch now! Is Raven slowly turning into Thor? Still penetrating the Active Defense Surfaces!)
→ Additions:
? Sad vibes (Pov: Trauma)
? Stolen e-Wallet – Balance: 100,000 [49,266↑] (Why on earth would you give 50 grand to someone who kicked you out? We're rich btw.)
? VX-21 Commlink (There's a missed call! Even Commlink is surprised.)
? Stylish Black Bag (Used to be cool. Now it’s just “Raven’s personal hell-pocket.” Still cursed. Still smells weird. It's a little lighter now.)
? Sustenance & Regret – Contents: Bottled Rations, Bottles labeled “Water” (Technically drinkable. Emotionally scarring. One hissed and called him “mom.”)
? (6) VX-21 Commlink (He's not gonna do anything with these.)