Two days later…

Under the dim moonlight shining through the sparse foliage of trees swaying in the night, a rattling sound could be heard, the jiggling of metal steel wire frames frightening the nearby wildlife away. Invasive rabbits scampered away as a soft yet sharp snapping sound could be heard, the blades of a wire cutter shearing through a fence.

A lone teenager crawled through the face, completely decked out in black from head to toe. His face was entirely covered with a balaclava, only his blue eyes slightly visible from the reflection of spotlights far in the distance.

The gravel cracked apart with a crunching sound as he found his footing, not before he almost let out a yelp, nearly tripping over a rail line. Covering his own mouth to prevent anyone else from hearing him, he stealthily crouched and moved over to a nearby shipping container, hiding behind and making sure he minimized his exposure.

With minimal light, he slouched down to the ground, placing his backpack on the ground and sitting carefully on a loose rock while waiting, constantly checking his watch for the time. He glanced up to the night sky, unable to see even a speck of starlight due to the light pollution from the glitz of glamour of the central business district.

As if it wasn’t enough for them to make us poor.

He focused, however. But instead of just sitting down, he got up slowly, finding a flat area to lay down on before doing sit-ups out of the blue. Might as well get a few reps in for the day.

A low but steadily increasing rumbling could be felt on his back, prompting him to get up and prepare himself, wearing his backpack. He snuck around to the other side of the shipping container, trying to get closer to the source.

On the horizon, a single sharp, piercing beam of light broke through the darkness, illuminating the entire train depot incrementally, with Sel’s blue eyes reflected in the glare.

Yet it wasn’t the front headlamps of the train that he was interested in, but the side of the train.

The moment the train began to pull into the depot, Sel slowly and calmly walked up to it, using other stacked containers and parked train carriages and cover, mindful of the various security cameras that were positioned all around the depot. His eyes darted as he watched the walls of each of the incoming containers, looking for something.

Once he got into range, he spotted it – a large container with a company branding plastered on it reading “Galore Foods: Dedicated to Your Abundance”. Yet if someone were to inspect a little closer, they would see a tiny symbol, that looked like natural wind or weather erosion from afar. Many people wouldn’t give it a second glance.

Except Sel.

He kicked into action, quickly moving forward to the slowing down train and hopping onto the interlocking joints between carriages before anyone spotted him.

He bent down to the container marked by the symbol, fiddling with a service access panel to what was a refrigeration unit on the side, meant to allow engineers to easily maintain the ice-cold container for long haul shipments. It was the only hidden nook on the container that didn’t require someone to tamper with the one-time lock on the main hinges, verified by the customs staff on both ends.

“3, 7, 6, 9… got it.” Sel thumbed the numbers into the lock pad, gingerly opening it to reveal the motherlode. Five medium-sized sealed black bags, tucked and stuffed nicely between the intricate wiring and electronic devices.

He hurriedly grabbed the bags, stuffing it into his backpack one by one before zipping up them up. The bags were bulky, feeling like solid components of something else, but Sel knew better than to ask questions. Not with that much demas on the line. Let’s get out now before the train stops.

Sel stepped onto the edge of the train, his masked head peeking out slightly and looking for a good spot to jump off. There should be alrig-

The train jerked suddenly to a stop, the emergency brakes pulled while Sel lost his balance, falling onto the gravel ground with a loud thud.

Before he could recover, a massive spotlight was already moving onto him, illuminating him for the entire world to see. [Hey, what the hell are you doing there?] A guard hollered on the loudspeakers.

Sel immediately scampered, using all four limbs to stumble his way back upright, sprinting as fast as he could down to shake off the spotlight, weaving and erratically snaking through the rows and rows of stacked containers. Already a blaring klaxon and the footsteps of guards on the hunt reached his ears, prompting him to speed up even faster.

Just got to get back to that opening- shit! Another spotlight was already on the hole in the fence, one guard already moving there to cut off his escape route. I got to hide!

Sel could barely hear anything else, only the thrum of his every step skidding against the loose pebbles, the blood pounding in his ears as he raced to find a hiding spot.

“Over here!” One of the guards yelled, but Sel was too quick, darting like a rat around.

“Shit, I lost him. He was just here!”

“Spread out and find him. Check every damn container and carriage!” The guard captain urged, the three guards under him complying.

Each of the containers was opened, one-by-one. Shouts of “Clear!” soon began at regular intervals, the guards sweeping the area.

A guard stepped into an empty passenger carriage, his flashlight scanning each of the chairs and trying to spot anyone hiding within. “Stop hiding! It’s an offense to trespass here! The longer you hide, the worse your charge!”

No reply came, just the soft whistling of the night wind blowing through the half-closed windows. Not that the guard expected any response either.

He stepped slowly through the cabin, checking every nook and cranny for hiding places. Suddenly, he heard a low thump echo through the cabin, realizing that it was coming from a cabinet, whose door was slightly ajar.

“Come out with your hands out! I don’t want to hurt you!” The guard retrieved his taser gun, aiming it right at the ajar door while taking measured steps forward. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he tried to control his breathing, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Just as he reached within three steps of the cabinet, a sudden rattling sound startled him, a rat lunging out of the cabinet and diving straight at the guard’s feet, scampering frantically down the cabin. He nearly pulled the trigger, but his training kept him restrained, grumbling as he wiped the sweat off his face. “Fuck… just a rat. First time I’ve seen one that fat out here. And it looked a bit weird, too.”

The guard heaved a sigh of relief, holding his taser lower while beginning to return to the entrance of the cabin. Just as he was about to step off, yet another loud thump ran through the structure of the carriage, originating once again from the cabinet.

“I got a suspicious one here. Need backup.” He quickly spoke into the radio, calling for another while he once again moved back to the cabinet’s door, taser ready.

The cabinet’s door suddenly swung inwards, a hand sticking out. The guard immediately pulled the trigger, the taser cables shooting straight. However, it missed the hand, the wires falling helplessly onto the floor.

Before the guard could react, Sel lunged out from the door, immediately slamming his hand as hard as he could into the guard’s face, expecting to knock him out just like in the net videos he watched.

However, his punch missed, the guard still taken aback by the sudden attack before attempting to grapple Sel down. Sel quickly backpedaled, before his backpack slammed against the wall, with nowhere else to go.

The guard immediately discharged the spent taser cartridge, about to pull out another one from the handle when Sel suddenly charged straight ahead, slamming his entire body into the guard and knocking him back.

With a tumble, a crunching sound could be heard as the guard’s head smacked against the headrest of a seat, though it failed to concuss him. However, it was long enough for Sel to swing his backpack with as much force as he could muster.

The backpack’s force was dispersed, yet enough to stumble the guard long enough for Sel to follow up with another low kick right to the groin. “Urk!”

The guard collapsed to the floor, unable to bear the jolting bouts of pain arcing through his body now. Sel quickly leaped over his body, running to the edge of the cabin only to run into the backup guard blocking his path.

Sel raised his two fists, ready to fight his way out. However, instead of confronting him, the backup guard stood beside him, clearing the path for Sel. “You got one minute.”

Not asking any questions, Sel took the opportunity, sprinting as hard as he could towards a nearby container parked next to the metal fence. With a leap, he grabbed onto the top of the container, climbing up with a grunt.

The spotlight was already moving towards him, illuminating him as his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. He could see the remaining three guards all running at him, even the one that let him go, the metal clicks of their soles against the pebbles like a countdown timer.

With a deep breath, he took a few steps back, before sprinting as hard as he could into a running jump, summoning every fiber of energy he had in his body to make it over the fence. With a loud thud, he landed on the grass patch beyond, rolling into a bush.

“He’s got out of the yard. Get him-huh? Hey, what the hell is this rat- ARGH!”

Sel didn’t turn around, running with everything he had as far as he could. After a few minutes, he finally slowed down, re-entering the suburbs area proper. He walked up to a discreet bush, removing his outfit and backpack, planning to swap out to another set.

As he opened the backpack to transfer the sealed bags, he caught a small glimpse of what was inside, and his heart paused, recognizing precisely what he was transporting immediately. Shit, guns?

However, Sel knew better than to ask questions. His body did not pause, going through the motions of transferring the goods into an entirely different backpack, before he walked down the street openly, his outfit completely different.

The sound of a police car siren in the distance frightened him, but he kept outwardly calm, walking normally as though he had nothing to be afraid of. The ambient terror clung to his every pore with every step, as he got closer and closer to his destination.

He soon arrived at a dilapidated three-story building, practically unmarked by company signs, unless gang graffiti was considered a company sign. He walked down a tight alleyway to the side entrance of the building, rasping his knuckles on a green metal door.

A sliding eye slot in the door swerved open, eyeing Sel for a moment, before sliding close. The metal door soon swung open, revealing one of the gangsters who had dropped his aunt unceremoniously on the pavement.

“Looks like you got some balls on you, kid. Hey, you! Pay up!” The gangster hollered down the dimly lit room behind him, where a rundown gym with shoddy equipment could be seen, almost no one within save for another gangster polishing a knife.

“Pay up? Pay up for what?”

“Kid’s back! You lost the bet!”

“What?! No fucking way. That kid is a prude! Temple boy! He would never – holy shit.” The other gangster was at a loss for words, not in any part due to Sel’s actions but more of the fact of how much demas he was about to lose.

Sel ignored them, heading straight for the gym manager’s office, where Mason had a wide grin on his face. “See?” Mason’s voice boomed as he opened the door for Sel. “Not so hard, huh?”

“Money first.”

“Oh, smart one. Alright, let me see it first, then. Don’t want you pulling a fast one on me too.” Mason joked though they both knew Sel wouldn’t cheat – not when Mason knew exactly where his family was.

Sel opened the backpack, revealing the five sealed bags that were dumped on the table. “Impressive. I watched the whole thing. Well done, kid, you got a bright future ahead of you.”

“Watched?”

“Hmm? Yea, of course, I watched it. Why do you think the second guard let you go?”

Sel didn’t reply, only holding his palm out.

“Alright, alright. Here you go.” Mason slapped a wad of demas in Sel’s hand. “Now don’t go spending it all on one place. I’m sure you’re smart enough to know why.”

“I know.” Sel pocketed the money, preparing to leave. As much as Mason was a good source of money, Sel wasn’t planning on hanging around him longer than he needed to. Every hour spent in association with him could lead to dire consequences, like the police.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down, kid.” Mason quickly jogged in front of Sel, a gentle smile on his face. “I think you got what it takes. How about some extra money? I saw your fight with the guard. Gutsy, but still rough and inexperienced. With some training, you’ll be a rising star.”

“A rising star where?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Mason motioned with his thumb to a poorly lit poster, advertising a rookie fighting tournament with some prize money. Sel was about to reject it once more until his eyes landed on the top prize money – 50,000 demas.  

The amount boggled his mind, surpassing whatever he had planned for the next four months. 50,000 demas would literally cover everything for a year, maybe even more!

However, he remained suspicious of Mason, wondering what his angle was. Mason caught Sel’s wary glance, sighing. “Kid, I know how you feel. We’re the bad guys. We drink every night, party every night, almost like we never worked a day in our life. Tattooed skin, bad breath, the lot.”

Accurate.

“But think to yourself about how a normal person in today’s society is supposed to live. You slave nine hours a day to a boss for a mediocre sum that barely changes over the years, only to return home to find out that the price of food has gone up by yet another five percent, year on year.”

“Then you pay taxes to an uncaring queen, living in her ivory castle in the capital, ignorant of all the common folk living out here in the streets. Drug addicts, slum dwellers and impoverished people like us have no face to her. No one in the administration knows our name – we’re a number to them. A statistic. Do you know how you will be remembered by them when you die? Add one to the death count in Akama.”

Before Sel could say anything, Mason grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around to face the other gangsters. “All of us here? You think we ended up in this situation by choice? It’s the damn administration and the police who forced us in here. Discriminated, abandoned, waking up outside your tent only to see poorly maintained roads and utilities all around you. And they say we’re the bad guys.”

“Then why are you misleading my aunt?”

“She’s a grown adult, she can make her own choices. She wants to ride with us, that’s on her. I didn’t force her into anything. And I’m not going to force you into anything as well. You’re free to walk out of here, scott-free. I won’t say a word.”

Mason let go of Sel, his arms outstretched towards the door. “But know this. The common people out there? The managers who interviewed you? None of them gives a rat ass about you. Not even after everything you had done for them through the temple’s charity work.”

Sel couldn’t refute that, his subconscious anger at the managers slowly rising to the surface.

“All of them want to make sure you stay down. That’s how the world works now – everybody thinks it’s a zero-sum game. But not us. Here, we help one another. We help the outcasts, the fallen, the discriminated. Just like how I’m willing to help you. You got a good shot at the prize money.”

“Why me? Why not someone else?”

“It’s your drive, son. I see the drive to win, to succeed in you. Win this, and you might be on track to go pro. You know how much a pro fighter earns? Millions a year, from sponsorships to prizes. Or you can just stop there and then. Use the money for something better. Get your aunt some therapy. Find your mum a nursing home.”

Sel gulped, the absurd amount of money being talked about swirling in his mind. He could even go to university himself with that sort of cash, scholarship or not.

“Think on it, alright? No rush, but that tournament is coming up in two months, so if you want to be prepared for it, better get a headstart.”

Sel stood in silence for a moment, contemplating. This… this might actually be a good thing. Especially with the skills available in the Shop… He didn’t even need to ask if the tournament was legal – no amateur or even regional circuits would even think of offering that much.

Yet the money lured him in, Sel willing to do anything to break the cycle. He eyed Mason again, who he had previously pegged as one of the contributing factors to his aunt’s horrible treatment of him.

But Mason got one thing right: He was the only one in town willing to offer this much to him.

“I’m in. When do we start?”