August 21st, 2030, 7:15 am

"Two minutes!"

Craig Larsson tugs his shirt collar and slips the top off, tossing it into a heap where he just stood on the grass, beside Mai Rea. He twirls his neck, exposing his Adam's apple and the curvature of his chin. His arms rise straight over his head, giving way for his shoulders to move with them. He curls his fingers under each other to increase and prepare for mobility. Prepare for me.

If there is anyone in this ranking who is a mystery to me, it's him. With everyone else around here, their true personality shines through upon the first encounter or so. But I've seen Craig a couple of times now and I don't know what to think about him. There is something hidden deep inside of him that he refuses to surface and display to the world. I don't even know what his voice sounds like; that's how little I can tell about him from his outer appearance alone.

The ticklish breeze sweeps in through field and curls up his fluffy hair, that of rich honey. He's hopping on and off his toes now, giving me a sneak peek of his stance. He and Hal have the same hand positions, which I guess also means him and I have the same positions, too. I'm curious to see how he'll deal with the similarity.

How is he going to go about this fight? Is he going to go for the crowd pleaser and knock me out with a sucker punch, or will he take my approach? He saw how I was able to defeat Hal, the one he was expecting to fight in the final round. I am anticipating a bold, strategic attempt from him, something that he devised within the five minutes of observing me. His mind works like that.

"Sixty seconds, you two."

My fingers find the bottom of my shirt and I pull it over my head. I drop it at my feet as I stroll to the center of the square. My nerves bothered me more before Hal's fight than now. If I can beat Hal, nothing is stopping me from taking down Craig Larsson too. My fear is lifted, and all of a sudden, the ranking isn't so frightening. I have found my cool.

The future of the Imperial Guard rides in the balance. If I come out victorious, the rankers cannot resist the fact that the OLC kid, Slater, defeated the top two recruits in the class. They'll have to face the music and consider me for immediate duty, at that point. If Craig is the winner, Hal's rank as the number one grows less and less stable. His rival is gaining steam, and there is no sign of stopping. I have to win this, for Hal's sake.

And mine, I guess.

Craig and I meet in the middle of the square. We only stand a few feet apart, but I start taking notes of everything I can see. His nose is level with mine, so I'm predicting that we are around the same height. If that's true, then we must have alike wingspans. That's his punch and swinging range. I need to stay out of that line, but only move in when I go to the offensive. I'm not sure when I'll get that window of opportunity, but I'll improvise.

There are specks of green in the water of his irises, like a swamp. The alligator he is fits right in; vicious and looming, waiting for the kill. He regards me like I'm his heron, studying my every move. Nothing is going to get past him.

Sergeant Lee strides over to the two of us with the whistle in his hand. "You two should know the drill by now. Everything above the belt, no stepping out of bounds, no kicking. Do what it takes to keep yourself off the floor. You may forfeit whenever you like; we will not make the determination for you. Last man standing wins. Shake hands, let's do this."

He backs away and I'm stuck with Craig at the center. In a mutual, momentary understanding, my opponent and I take each other's hands in the last feeling of purity between the both of us. His glare rips right through me, and the corners of his full lips twitch. The alligator is ready to jump in and tear me to shreds.

We distance ourselves and throw our hands up in front of our chins. He stays mobile, hopping up and down at such a pace that I couldn't match. He might try to use that kind of speed to dominate this fight, but I have to keep up with him if I want to succeed.

Lee's whistle is drowned out by the clamor from the heavy crowd, but the shift in the air motivates me to move in to defend. My gaze switches around to all the people watching this instead of my opponent who reduces the distance between us. They don't know the magnitude of this fight; not to the degree that Craig and I understand. Although we have different reasons for wanting to win this battle, it means the whole world to us right now.

He knows my stomach shot and replicates it to perfection. I've felt it before, so it doesn't affect me as much, but it sends me faltering back. He then adds an element that I don't expect initially, and it comes right for my face. It connects and shatters my focus. The punch didn't pack all that much power, but damn, was it quick. He knows how to create a combination off of opportunity, so there isn't much room for a counter if I get one. That kind of speed eliminates any possibility of being able to throw something back.

My left fist charges for his diaphragm, and he deflects it into space. His free hand shoots straight for my face, which I do expect, so I sway out of the way. My right hand swings wide and I hit his cheek, which does nothing but jostles him a bit. It's going to need more than that to have an effect. This fight could last all day.

What is it going to take? I know the rules, and we're only restricted to our hands and throwing punches. But there is nothing in the rules that says I can't hold him and sweep him to the floor. I don't know if I have the power to knock him down; I used most of my energy in the fight against Hal. I have to be ambitious and creative if I'm going to take down Craig. Right now, he's unshakeable.

I release myself from my uniform stance and reach forward for his shoulders. He recognizes my move and his hands grip around mine. Our palms press against each other, and we use all our might to budge each other from our roots in the concrete. I am digging my knees into the ground, doing everything I can to stay stagnant. When I get the chance, I'll pull him in and throw him to the floor. It will have to work.

I pick my head up and stare right into the marsh of his eyes. His teeth are gritting against each other, spit protruding through the crevices between them. Is this getting difficult for him? I'm hardly breaking a sweat, except for that one hit to the jaw. What's going through his mind right now?

That's when something in the swamp loses me. The volume of the crowd dies until I hear shrill screaming.

"Please, no! I haven't done anything to you!"

"Get the fuck away from her! You hurt her, I'll kill you!"

Craig's eyes join mine in gaze. The trees of the marsh are burning to the ground. His sharp fangs scrunch against each other, but only one thing escapes his lips that I can recognize.

"I'll kill you!"

His hands detach from mine and latch onto my wrists like chains. He charges forward, having me backtracking to the edge of the square. The kids are giving my body space for when I am thrown out to the ring.

My legs bend and I push myself against him. I don't know what happened just now. One second, I hear two voices yelling at me, and now Craig has me in a finishing move. All he has to do is take advantage of my resistance to give up, and he wins. I won't let him defeat me like this; because I wasn't ready for his outburst. I won't let this end so easily.

I whisk my left wrist out of his grasp and shove his chest away. My unbound hand balls up and shoots for his chin, sending his face skyward. He releases my other wrist, and I step away from the perimeter of the arena. The butt end of his hand is massaging where I just got him as he turns my way. His rage seems to have died down, but he could be cooling it down for now before coming back at me.

"You want to kill me?" I shout, jabbing a finger into my ribs. "Come get me."

He sprints my way, and I plant my sneakers into the concrete. He's coming for me with a vengeance and I have to be ready to defend it. If I can outlast his frenzy, I can get a step on him and take him down. I need to play this smart.

Craig draws his arm back and collides his fist with the center of my face. I wasn't ready for such a swift punch, and there was no way I could have prepared for it. My teeth still seem to be in place, but I can taste blood. I spit it out momentarily and turn back to face him. He doesn't seem as focused as he was when he first started fighting. It seems to me that whatever emotions are controlling him are dictating his every move. My role is to maneuver out of the emotions and see the bigger picture of this fight.

His punches are slowing down, just like Hal's not too long ago. That was the sign that he was dying out and was in need of energy. I outlasted Hal's final press, but I don't know if I can do the same for Craig. Hal's outburst was out of frustration, but there is something different fueling Craig's animosity toward me. I may never know what it is.

My hits are aiming for the side of the face because anything trying for the nose or lips is blocked in a quick movement of the hands. Some of my punches make it through, and some actually break the skin. The lines in his face trace down to his jaw and chin, where he pays no mind to the interference. Some lead to his mouth and leave scarlet trails over his teeth.

After a minute of successfully defending on my part, Craig lands a brutal fist along my nose. The blow shoots a wave of irritation through my face, and I turn my head away for a moment to catch the blood seeping from my nostrils. I can still breathe, but the buildup of all that liquid is making it difficult. My hands are drenched.

When I don't expect any kind of attack, he swings one of his arms around my neck and another under my armpit and in my hair. My body is locked upright, and I am immobilized like this. Is this the end? Has the fight come to an end? Do I tap out now and leave the suffering behind?

No. Not until I hit the concrete.

Craig holds me, facing the crowd, whose jaws are to the floor, staring at us. I feel the hairs above his lips against my ear. "Look at them, Slater. Fools. They thought for a moment that you had the capacity to defeat me just because you took down Hal. They didn't know what they were expecting, but I did." He roughs my body once, squeezing my neck with the crease of his elbow. "Fact is, you're just lucky. You aren't talented or gifted like the rest of us. You're just lucky. And for as long as I'm here in the Imperial Guard, I will never let you see the light of immediate duty. That's just how it is."

My right hand, not guarded by one of his, swings over my shoulder and cracks against his cheek. In the same motion, my elbow finds the curve of his waist behind me. He pushes himself off of me, holding where my blows connected to him. The blood from his face has flowed down his neck and reached his collarbone. I can feel the hot batter from my nose tickling the small hairs on my upper lip.

"Well, as long as I'm here, I won't let you become Sergeant."

He growls, revealing his red teeth. He ducks, charging toward me with muscular legs and outstretched arms. The alligator is coming in for the kill. But the heron stands firm, awaiting his death with a smile.

As Craig's furious attack approaches, I twist my body out of the way and let him continue through his path. His arms clamp together too late, and his legs are still moving forward as if he were going to tackle me to end it. With his folded back a foot in front of me, I put two hands on his spine and press him forward to move faster like a raging bull. He saunters, and his feet fall out from underneath him. The first thing that hits the concrete is his knees, followed by his bloody chin contacting with the grass, beyond the boundary of the square.

I strut to where he lays, groaning. "And that's how it is."

My body levitates off the ground, followed by cheering all around me. A mob of recruits, kids I have never seen before, surround me and tousle my hair, patting me on the back. Kids shove me against one another, yelling to rile up the crowd. I'm not a stranger to the center of attention.

One person who presses through the group around me is Sergeant Lee, shooting air into his whistle. The kids back off, awaiting the official result.

"Winner: Tross!" Lee exclaims. That was the most positive thing I've heard the Sergeant say since I've been here.

The next one who attacks me with adoration is Hal. He wraps his arms around me and holds me up into the air. "Holy shit, Slater! You're a fucking maniac!" We embrace each other.

Hal knows how much this means to the both of us. This is the biggest determinant of our rank, and I think those rankers might be considering immediate duty. Or, they should be. It would be a crime if they didn't. Life is good; if I do say so myself. And I don't say such nonsensical things very often.