Code Zulu Alpha: Nerd in the Apocalypse!

Everyone's eyes were glued to my cage as I casually let him go. Tears are flowing through his eyes while his dangling arm is bleeding profusely due to the jagged bone that is jutting out. He's trying to hold his arm together but all it's doing is making the ripped flesh larger. I tried to wipe his blood off of my arm but all I managed to do is stain my other hand.

Curses and death threats were shouted towards me from who I assume were his buddies. I turned around and remembered their faces while smiling devilishly. Their shouting stopped for a short moment after we locked eyes. I turned back to my opponent and he's screaming in pain. His face is a mess from the pain he's experiencing and the thought of losing an arm permanently.

The referee didn't stop the match since what I did to him is still allowed by the rules. As long as I didn't kill him, everything is fine. I'll admit that I went a little too far but don't try to threaten someone if you don't have the skills to back it up.

I took a single step forward and he started to scurry away. The path he left behind reeks of ammonia and iron. He's hobbling away from me and fear is stricken in his eyes. He's trying to open his mouth to speak some words but all that's coming out were gibberish. I think I've already done enough so I reminded him of the rules.

"Tap out." I calmly said.

He immediately tapped his only useful arm before the referee snapped back to reality and declared my win. I simply crouched down to wipe my arm again with my pants and it did the trick in some places.

"That was longer than I thought." I muttered.

I looked at the guy being dragged out the cage and what seems to be Mr. Cuervo's medical staff is applying a tourniquet on his arm. That guy's buddies approached him but they can't seem to look at me like they did earlier. The onlookers aside from them are also giving me wary gazes but it's too late to explain myself. It seemed that I intimidated more than my fellow participants.

From my display, the rest of the participants gave up right to #16. I had a few minutes of rest time since calling for the next player to come up and announcing that they're giving up still took some time. I glanced at Ilya's cage and he's still doing fine though his bandages were already bloody. I just don't know if the cuts that he has got bigger or it's from his opponents. There were no deaths yet and everyone seemed to be following the rules this time.

My opponent finally appeared and it seemed that he's ex-military. He's middle-aged but his body is still toned and maintained. His hair is all short and gray and he's sporting a little goatee. He has a few scars on his body and the look on his face tells me that he has seen a lot of things. He slowly made his way towards the center of this cage and he's slowly stretching his body. We were briefly introduced and we're only waiting for the signal.

"FIGHT!" the ref gave the signal but no one acted immediately.

I was calmly observing him and his stance as he slowly inched closer. He's also watching me closely but I bet he's just trying to measure the correct distance between us.

He started with a crisp jab that landed on my guard. I clenched my left fist slightly and he quickly stepped back. No amount of taunting works on this guy and he's careful like Marvin from back home. He started to throw a few more jabs my way and I avoided most of them with head slips. One crisp jab came for my face at the right moment and I felt how solid his punches are. He quickly followed up with a right straight but I met it with a right low kick. I dodged by a hair's breadth and I landed my hit cleanly. Low kicks would slowly pile up and I need a lot more to connect for it to bear fruit.

"All right, here we go." I thought to myself.

He started a small rush while I kited him around. A well-timed back-step is my solution to his simple rush. I'm making full use of the space to make him tire out for a bit before I start my own attacks. He's wary for my grab because of my earlier match so a little feint when he's too close goes a long way in the right direction. I landed another low kick after a quick jab and he's slowly starting to feel the burn. Add to that there's no time limit in our fight and he's been chasing me for five minutes already.

I opened with a crisp jab myself and I followed with another low kick. He guarded the jab but he failed to guard against my kick since I moved my right shoulder slightly. Watching someone too close has disadvantages and it's slowly showing. He started to incorporate kicks to his attacks to mix it up but his forte is really boxing. His rhythm staggers when he tries to combine his punches with kicks and it makes it easier for me to dump low kick after low kick. He managed to avoid a few but his face suffers when he does.

His left leg is starting to get swollen from the constant hits and he only managed to score a decent counter when I got greedy. A small cut appeared on my left cheek when he successfully baited me. I avoided his right straight at the last moment but that little cut still appeared. However, I managed to pile seven more kicks right after the other and right as he was starting to get the timing for each one, an improbable kick came from an irregular stance.

He didn't notice how I shifted my weight to the right foot at the back as I kicked upwards with my left. The hit was clean and he almost stumbled backwards. He's still disoriented and I applaud him for staying conscious. He tried his best to fight while still groggy but I only need a few seconds to finish off someone with a status ailment.

Another solid low kick tripped him down and he lost his footing. He tried his best to stand up but my arms are already wrapped around his neck. He has no choice left but to tap out and I quickly let go.

"What was that?" he said while sitting down.

"Good game. Don't get up yet." I replied while smiling, not bothering to answer his question.

The other participants next to him lost by default except for #20. It was a drunk guy making his way towards the gate but it was too anticlimactic. I thought I was gonna face-off with someone that knows drunk-boxing but all he managed to knock out is himself. I don't know how he managed to trip on a flat surface but he did. He fell head-first and blood started spurting out from the wound on his head.

"..." everyone else.

"Umm, did I win? I'm done now, right?" I asked the announcer just to make sure.

"Unfortunately, yes… I wish that drunk fucker went first." he replied, dejectedly.

"Do the winners on each cage get to fight each other?" I asked.

"Soon, we're just waiting for the others to finish but it would be settled with a different event and before that is the ladies' turn first." he replied.

The cheers for the other participants resounded, drowning out the rest of our conversation.

I made my way back to the truck and Kaley quickly sat me down. Kaley tried to stop the bleeding from my cheek and she looked for other injuries. There seems to be none except for minor cuts that don't need any stitches. Even the cut on my cheek just needed the bleeding to be stopped and she just placed some cream to help with the process.

Irene and her group are still trying to adjust to the consensual violence that is happening. They're enjoying the fights but their expressions would change each time an arm or a leg is getting snapped or blood is flowing out from a huge cut. Jerry's trying his best to calm them down when that happens but Irene seems to be thinking of something else entirely.

"I should've joined this division. I could take down a few of them easily." Tatiana muttered.

"Most of them didn't even have formal training. There's a select few in the other cages but they mostly rely on raw power. It's something a few techniques couldn't stop." I replied.

The fights from the other cages continued and Ilya dominated in his cage.

"He's gonna be pissed when he discovers it later." I thought to myself.