By Rick Griffin
Copyright 2019 Rick Griffin
The arena comprised a rectangular concrete room with only three features of note. The spectator box in the back, which even with darkened glass appeared empty. The scoreboard, a giant single-screen LCD monitor with several dead pixels displaying a blank white screen. And the ring proper, a weathered yellow ring painted on the center of the floor with two red, equally weathered circles in its middle spaced evenly apart. The ring left plenty of space to sit around the front and back walls, but the edges of the ring neared the left and right walls with only a four-foot gap at the widest.
Paris surveyed the rest of the fighters of his class, sitting around the room’s front floor. He counted twenty-four (not counting himself or Logan) of various sizes, colors and species, up to and including an enormous white sleepy-looking capybara who snoozed in the far corner. The Green fighters clustered into small groups of their own as they sat on the floor of the training room, like this was a PE class presentation.
A consideration which gave Paris flashbacks to elementary school dodgeball. He shuddered, and sat beside Logan. Although he still wasn’t sure if he liked the handsy green deer, Logan had been kind enough to him these past two hours. Everyone else here was a stranger.