If only this damn city wasn't so loud.

Sirens, car horns, people yelling, metal clanking. Any sound you can think of, I could hear. From wailing babies to screaming adults, getting more than half an hour of good quality sleep was more than anyone could ask for. Not that anyone had time for more anyways.

I rolled out of bed, groaning. The metal floor under my feet as cold as always. I folded whatever sad excuse of a blanket I had, trying not to tear it even more. I barely even lived in a house or apartment. Anyone who lived down here in the Graveyard had to make do with whatever abandoned building they could find, and you can bet they killed anyone who tried to take it. 

Fun...

"Riven. Wake up. We need to go."

My younger brother rolled around in his bed, groaning something about a meat sandwich. Yeah, right. Bread was rare enough as it is, but meat? That's reserved for high ranking government officials. Street rats like us would be lucky to get anything edible, let alone something tasty.

I knelt down next to my brother's bed. Riven. He was 4 years younger than me, making him 13. He wasn't my real brother either. Just some kid I helped from some stray dogs a few years ago. Since then he's followed me around like a puppy. I can't lie though, he makes for some pretty good company.

And he gives me purpose. Over the time I've looked after him, he's given me a reason to drag my sorry ass out of bed. If it wasn't for him, I probably would've rotted in that sad, metal frame of a bed.

Yeah. I'd be long dead by now if it wasn't for this guy.

I put my hand on his shoulder, gently rocking him back and forth. "C'mon buddy, it's time to go."

He groaned again, turning around. "Ash, I'm hungry."

I felt my stomach drop, and not from my own hunger. It's been 2 days since I could find something good for Riven to eat. It's been 4 since I've eaten. But hearing Riven say he was hungry hurt more than any hunger pangs I've ever felt. 

"I know bud. I'm sorry." I didn't have anything else to say. What else can I say? My little brother was starving, and there was little I could do.

"You know," he croaked up, smiling. "If we joined the Rebels, they'd give us food."

This time, my heart dropped. The Rebels were the ones fighting against our government. The same government that kidnapped children off the streets and took them away to the Capital. The same government that forced us to live like vermin in the sewers. The same government that took Riven's family, and my memories. 

But joining the Rebels was a suicide mission. They gave their lives to a lost cause, most of them dying meaninglessly. The government's Soldiers had weapons too advanced for the likes of regular technicians, and were trained with far more experience than the average street fighter. What chance would the Rebels have?

None. And it showed.

"Riven. I'm not letting either of us join the Rebels. You know this."

His smile faded, and he turned around again. "I know."

I stood up, slowly pulling him into a sitting position. "Let's go. We need to get down to the Pit and register for the next match."

A few minutes later, Riven was ready to leave. We each carried a small knife on us, in case someone tried to take what little we had. I wrapped my arms and hands in a bandage, making sure my knuckles had extra padding on them. 

The Pit was where Riven and I made any money. An underground arena where people fought, sometimes to the death, sometimes within an inch of it. Those who made good money could buy food, get bigger, and win more. Someone like me couldn't fight too well. But that's where Riven came in. He'd keep an eye on the bets and see who had money. Then, while the fight was happening, he'd use his tiny hands to slip in and out of pockets, grabbing whatever change he could. 

Did it always work? No. It was better than starving, though. Recently, people haven't been bringing more money than they planned on betting with, which made the pool dry. Not to mention, nobody wanted to bet on the scrawny kid, so I rarely had enough riding on me for the officials to put me in the ring. 

"Today will be different, big bro," Riven chirped, walking along next to me. I held his hand, no matter where we went. I've seen and heard too much about children getting picked up and taken, and I didn't trust Riven's knife skills to set him free. 

"Yeah? What makes you say that," I play along.

"You're getting stronger, I can tell."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Buddy, I haven't eaten in days. There's no way I can get stronger without good fuel."

"Mm, yeah, but you're special. You'll get-"

BOOM!

An explosive eruption echoed around us. 

Every once in a while, the Capital would send people to test out new weapons in the Graveyard. These weapons often exploded, killing hundreds of people, be called "Defective" and be shipped back to the Capital for reworking. They never cared about who they killed with their pointless tests. 

The building next to me and Riven shook, dust and concrete shards falling down. I put my arms around Riven and covered him from above. Thankfully, the building didn't collapse. Sometimes, an entire block would be decimated, anyone in the blast radius left as dust and ash. 

"It was closer this time," Riven whispered, his voice shaky.

"Yeah, they must be running out of room."

We walked the rest of the way in silence. We got to the entrance of the Pit, a subway gate with a buff man standing in front. The neon city lights bounced off his black sunglasses, the cigarette in his mouth dangerously close to his scarred lips.

"Identification?" He grunted.

I pulled the sleeve of my t-shirt back to reveal a carved out emblem of a boar's head with an axe cutting through it's neck. The emblem of the Pit. Register as a fighter, and this gives you free entry into the Pit with anyone you're with. Without it, you need to pay.

That's our identification. Scars and cash.

He let us in, and not even two steps down the stairs Riven's hands started shaking again.

"Ash... I don't want you to do this again."

His voice was still shaky, and I don't blame him. In truth, the reason we haven't eaten in days is because the last fight I got into, I got beat up badly. It's a miracle I didn't die, but it's not a miracle I want to happen again. 

Not to mention, Riven was pretty shaken up too. I'd never been that hurt before. They carried me out on a stretcher and threw me into the street. If Riven didn't drag me back home and bandage me up, I would've caught some kind of infection and died on the road. 

"C'mon bud. This is how we make our meals," I said, feigning confidence. In truth, I didn't want to do this either. Why would I? It's terrifying, you never know who you're going up against, and there's barely any money in it.

But I have my reason. I need to keep Riven's belly as full as possible. He's stronger than I am, he just doesn't know it yet.

I tighten my grip on his hand and pull him down the stairs. Sorry, Riven. I wish there was another way.

We make our way down, greeted by flashing lights, men and women spinning around poles, fake bills floating in the air, and creatures of all kinds. People with scaly skin, animal heads and human bodies, human heads on animal bodies, people with crazy skin colours, and people that glow. 

Talk about DEI.

I put my hand on Riven's head. "You remember our game plan, right?"

He nodded, backing into the shadows of the Pit. When I turned around, even I couldn't find him. His ability to disappear was incredible, and saved him from a lot of ass whoopings.

I made my way to the register. The lady at the desk had a long, purple beard, and a familiar wrinkled face.

"Hey Matilda. It's been a while."

She croaked in her rough, smoker's voice. "You really don't learn, do you?" She sighed, looking over her papers. "Alright, Ashura, I have one here against a 7 foot, 3 inch Manbeast, weighing around 350 pounds."

Yeesh. Manbeast meant he'd have fangs, lots of protective fur (making blunt force damage hard), and sharp claws that'll shred me. Not to mention the specs on him. 7'3"? That's insane.

"Shit. What the hell are they feeding these people?"

She shrugged, gesturing over to a behemoth of a man with tiger-like fur and a feline face. "That's him, Cyrus."

"His name is Cyrus?"

"Mhm," she nodded, looking over his record. "281 wins, 32 losses."

"You're joking. C'mon Matilda, gimme someone else, please?"

"Kid, you know what people people wanna watch? A big guy like him tear up a runt like you. It's good money."

"Yeah, but," I said, scrambling. "What about a runt like me winning against someone not-so-big? Wouldn't that be better money?"

"Risk assessment." Her voice was cold and calculated. "Your record is 2 wins, 83 losses. The first win you got because your opponent succumbed to a chronic illness mid-fight, and the second one you won because Soldiers raided the last Pit and killed the other fighter."

Yeah... she's not wrong. My fighting skills are basically null, and my record shows it. People like seeing me get beat up cuz they know I'll never win. 

That's when another fighter, scrawny, like me, came up beside me. They had a slender figure, but covered head to toe in black, with a mask over their face and a hoodie covering their head.

"I need a fight." A girl's voice demanded behind the mask.

"Name?"

"I'm not registered yet."

Matilda looked at me. For all her merciless words, she still had some soft spot for me. She was one of the few at the register that knew about Riven, and how I did my best to take care of him. 

She looked between me and the girl. "You have your mark?" she asked the girl.

The girl nodded, lifting up her hoodie to reveal the same axed boar mark on her left abdomen. 

"Name?"

"Lyra."

"Alright, Lyra. You're gonna be fighting Ash here. He's no fighter, but he ain't a rookie either. Try not to humiliate him too badly."

Lyra turned to look at me, her eyes a spectrum of cyan to purple. She held out her hand, and I shook it. Before I could let go, she squeezed my hand, tightly.

"If you win this fight, I'll kill you."

She let go and walked off. Matilda snickered from behind me. "Good luck with that one."

I rolled my eyes and stood in line for my fight.

I watched men and women beat the shit out each other for a living. At first I got scared. As time went on, my nerves got a little better, even if my fighting never did. I knew I'd lose, but I also knew that by the time I'd be cleared, Riven would've already made our day's worth. 

That's all that matters. Riven'll get the money, and we'll be free for another day or two

Soon enough, it was my turn to step into the ring. I rewrapped my bandages to tightly cover my knuckles and wrist. Routine was simple. I'm not strong, but I can grapple, duck, and evade. Even if I've never won a fight, I've come close.

Maybe Riven was right. Maybe today will be different...

Lyra unzipped her hoodie, revealing a sports bra underneath. She kept the hood up and the mask on, but the glimpse I got from her eyes sent chills down my spine. She hopped in place, throwing a few jabs and practicing some sweeps. 

She's got an assassin build. Quick, surprising attacks. If I got any training, I'd probably fight something like her too. Instead, I'm a weasel. Ducking in and out of attacks for a chance to throw my opponent off guard or wear them out. 

The two of us bumped fists and got into position.

DING!

The bell went off, and without hesitation, Lyra closed the gap with a sweep. 

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