The crowd erupted into loud cheers mixed with a couple of jeers that reverberated through the small dilapidated arena. In the cage below, the smaller stature contender wrapped a pair of strong legs around the hulking competitor’s neck and gave a sharp twist, causing the opponent’s neck to snap.

The referee hastily jumped in and after a quick glance at the limp body, lifted the winner’s hand up high in declaration of victory. A resounding roar erupted from the crowds as the winner removed the signature mask worn by fighters, revealing the young face of a man, tough and fraught with scars, eyes sharp and toughened by battle.

He smirked slightly, his face flushed from the fight and skin glistening with sweat. Turning away from the crowd, he exited the cage and headed towards the rest area while the masses chanted his name, Zhen, in ever increasing intensity. He was the fastest, deadliest combatant in cage fights, the one that always went for the kill, the one that should never be underestimated.

He was the “Little Crow.”

“Crow, here’s your cut of the winnings.”

Zhen took the wad of bills and counted it, making double sure that the sneaky manager hadn’t pocketed some of his earnings. Satisfied with the amount, he tossed the money to his assistant, a scrawny kid, who quickly stashed it away in the pocket of Zhen’s trusty bag that laid on the table.

“Thanks, boss. When’s the next fight?” he said nonchalantly, draping his arm over the back of his chair as he studied the bald, middle-aged manager.

“Next week, same time. Some young guy who’s gaining lots of attention at the moment specifically demanded to fight you. I say, he’s courting death,” the manager chuckled darkly.

His lips formed a thin line, the thought of having to taking up a challenge didn’t sit well with him. He never liked having to fight that type of men – full of themselves, greedy, and eager to rush to their deaths. They regarded cage fights as a way of proving themselves, getting rich and famous with tons of girls hanging on their arms. He, on the other hand, took it as training and a way of surviving in this rotten world.

He respected the cage fight. It was a place where everyone, man and woman, old and young, were equal. In the cage, nothing mattered. Just you and your opponent. There were no rules – just like in the real world.

Many fighters were rejects from Engineered Society where people were biologically engineered at birth to be prettier, smarter, etc. They were criminals, law-breakers, people who just didn’t fit in. But those who were engineered had an advantage in the ring - their superior genes included powers.

Admittedly, having a power was beneficial, especially when you were up against an opponent that freely wielded theirs. However, he liked the thrill of going into a fight without the need to rely on some power. It made him stronger, better, each time he won a fight.

His manager’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. “He’s got some power, that one. Killed many people in Engineered before being sent down here. So, stay on your toes, Crow.”

He nodded and stood up, snapping his fingers to inform his assistant that they were leaving. The scrawny boy scrambled to his feet and handed Zhen the bag which he slung over his right shoulder. The two of them headed to the door and were about to step out when the manager’s voice rung out.

“Oh and err, Crow, I was thinking this time, I should be getting a bigger cut of the winnings. You know, given the fact that the odds are in his favor,” he said.

The air turned still. Only silence greeted the manager, and he gulped nervously. “I mean I’m sure you’ll win but for him to kill so many others with powers, he’s kinda good, you know.”

Zhen spun around and walked towards him in a deliberately slow manner, his steps echoing through the room. His face was expressionless but the muscles in his body were taut, ready to spring into action.

Sensing that he had probably said the wrong thing, the manager took a step back but in a split second, Zhen shoved him against the wall with a single muscular arm. He choked at the impact and struggled against Zhen. His hands scrabbled frantically at Zhen’s arm as his windpipe threatened to cave in.

Ignoring his attempts, Zhen stared right into his eyes, as if he were regarding a harmless insect. When Zhen spoke, it was barely above a whisper but the cold malice behind his words conveyed it all.

“We’ll be keeping the same ratio. What do you think?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a threat.

The manager opened his mouth to speak but no words could come out. Instead, he moved his head down as much as could, signaling that he agreed. Zhen took a last glance at him and released him from his chokehold. He fell to his knees, sputtering for air and clutching his neck.

Zhen looked at his pathetic figure on the floor with disgust and contempt. With a small click of his tongue, he turned and left with his assistant, leaving the manager kneeling on the floor. But not before he threw a look behind him and hissed, “Piece of advice for you asshole. Don’t be greedy.”