I steadily approached the man guarding the doors which obviously alerted him.
"What do you want brat?"
"To get inside, duh."
"Where's your ID pass?"
"That man just walked through without showing anything though."
"Its...None of your business"
"Oh but it is. That man is one of the fighters isn't he? And I'm guessing he's famous too"
"Where did you hear that kid!?"
I saw the guard clutching something from behind him so I answered quickly.
"Chill out big guy. I'm no snitch. Just tell me how do I register as a fighter."
The man stared, sneered, and glared at me all at the same time. But fortunately though, he eventually decided.
"..... Ozzy! Come over here for a sec will ya!"
The man shouted from outside, and after a few seconds a tall, bald, and skinny man showed up from the inside.
"What is it mate? Who's the kid?"
"He say's he wants to be a fighter. Escort him in the backroom. And don't!.. take your eyes off of him."
"Sure thing. Follow me kiddo"
I nodded and followed the man inside with glee.
-------
Walking around a dimly lit corridor, the man took me inside some sort of a locker room where I saw a bunch of topless men with bulging muscles.
Every single one of them redirected their attention towards me and gave the vibe of a predator that just found its prey.
"Sit down there for awhile kid. And fill out this form before I proceed with the initiation."
He took out a paper from a table and handed it to me, but before I could take it, he quickly retracted his hands and said
"Remember kid, this place is not a playground, or a cafe, or a bar, or whatever it is you blokes go to fuck around."
The man, who I'm assuming to be named Ozzy, paused mid sentence and looked at me seriously. But moments later, his looks softened up, albeit very subtly.
He continued "So if you're doing this for the sake of money alone, then I advise you to get the hell outta here and find other ways, I won't even give a shit if you steal, just leave this place..... I'll handle the bastard outside for you."
I thought 'well would you look at that. This guy's an angel in disguise'
"No worries buddy. I know what I'm doing" I said as I snatched the paper out of his hands which disturbed and made him sigh.
The paper form was not too complex. I just need to write my name, gender, address, age, contact info, and some sort of consent agreement.
'Name huh. Guess I'll go with that.'
I wrote Ocho as my name, homeless for address, 17 for age, and none for contact information.
After I'm done with the form. Ozzy the big guy went back and was now holding a metal stick with a glowing red tip. He approached me and told me to take off my shirt.
"The last requirement to be a registered fighter in here is to be marked with our symbol. Now chew on this and don't scream so much. This is gonna hurt a lot kid, so don't move too much."
He gave me a rubber mouthpiece which I then put on my mouth and chewed.
"One last question....Are you sure you want this?"
In my defense, I'm someone who lived with many restraints and never really knew my needs and wants all these years.
But I do know most of what is happening outside the base.
So yeah sure, I want these. Not the pain of course, but the experiences and everything that will entail.
Maybe then, after experiencing many things, I get to decide what I genuinely want other than completing my missions.
So I nodded with a determined look.
After that is the best part.
Ozzy reheated the metal stick and dipped it in some type of ink before sticking it in the lower part my back.
I was more than accustomed to being in pain so this type of pain is nothing to me, of course I pretended like I was suffering and squealed and shouted from time to time, just so I could lower my credibility.
The lower it is, the more fighters will approach and set a fight with me for easy bucks.
------
Finishing the whole initiation thing, Ozzy reminded me to come back next time when my back is better before setting up a fight.
"How soon can I fight Ozzy?"
"Depends on you, even tonight you may enter the tournament. But one look at your back will dictate the outcome of your fight. Come back next time fresh meat." He said with a hint of concern.
"I'll go tonight. Could you assist me, how do I enter a tournament?"
Ozzy was looking at me with a look that says 'didn't you just hear what I said!?'
After a few debate and lecture from Ozzy, he conceded and took me towards the arena where a middle-aged blonde lady processed my entrance.
"That'll be 200 dollars kid"
I was stunned and looked at her silently.
'That's almost all my money right now!'
I gritted my teeth and hesitatingly gave my entrance fee.
-------
At 9am in the evening. I'm currently idling at the locker room and only wearing a groin guard and boxers which Ozzy gave me as part of the fee for the registration.
At first I thought that the audience in the arena will slowly diminish, but night came and it is now more crowded than in the afternoon. I don't mind it though.
There are two fighter currently battling it out with each other right now in the arena, and I can hear, even from here, the audiences shouting and cheering.
My fight is scheduled after the current one, so I'm readying myself up by stretching and sweating myself out.
Earlier, when the lady took my entrance fee, she told me that I would only get paid if my fight lasted inside the arena for at least 5 minutes. And the winner would get 40% of the bets from the audience.
I'm done with my stretching and is now standing in front of a large wall mirror.
Black and long curly hair, 6'1 height, light-brown complexion, double eye-lid that made me always look sleepy, dark-green eye color, a chiseled jawline, a muscular but lean body with abs. Not to brag but I'm a real eye catcher.
To top my appearance off, on the lower part of my nape the roman numeral "VIII" is tatted. There's also a fresh scar tattoo on my lower back which can be seen as a koi fish swimming in circle, the symbol of the fighters of this cockpit arena.
A few more moments and Ozzy appeared and called me from outside.
"Ocho is it? Proceed to the arena now. Its your turn"
"A'ight, watch me work buddy"