The GravEdge Gym wasn't a place. It was a scar.
Sunlight didn't touch it. The whole structure sat buried beneath a decommissioned power plant, accessed only through a half-collapsed subway tunnel marked by scorched walls and anti-corp graffiti that bled red like warnings. Zay stood at the threshold, sweat still steaming from his skin, blood drying in thick, tacky smears across his hoodie. Every breath tasted like ozone and ash. Ahead, a rusted freight elevator opened its maw, humming faintly like it remembered being alive.
He stepped inside.
The platform shook on its descent, groaning under the weight of time and defiance. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting him in a strobe of light and shadow as the elevator plunged into the gym's underground belly. When the doors clanged open, Zay's eyes narrowed.
The ring wasn't a ring—it was a pit. Caged on all sides, a filthy square of ancient rubber and rusted mesh surrounded by bleachers salvaged from a hundred different worlds. The air was thick with sweat, blood, and the low rumble of tension. Half-mechanical fighters slammed gloves into punching bags strung from chains. Others threw kicks, elbows, headbutts—GravEdge wasn't pure boxing. It was survival. And everyone here looked like they had something to prove.
"New meat?" a voice called from above.
Zay looked up and saw a woman perched on a broken railing. Early twenties, skin bronze and glistening with heat, braids tied back tight, and a mechanical leg humming softly beneath worn cargo pants. She hopped down with the grace of a jungle cat and approached him. "You got a name, blood-stain?"
"Zay," he said, raising his chin. "Zay Calderón. Bronx."
She smirked. "You look like the Bronx. Smell like it too." She extended a gloved hand. "I'm Vega. Coach here—by default. Everyone else too scared or too dead."
Before Zay could reply, a thunderous cheer erupted behind them. Someone had entered the pit. A wall of muscle with a face like cracked concrete. His nose was flat, eyes yellow from bio-stims, teeth filed sharp. He pounded his chest and roared at the crowd.
"That's Mantis," Vega said. "Ranked #1 in GravEdge. Doesn't talk much. Eats people like you for breakfast."
Zay's eyes lit up, one still crusted with dried blood. "Loud for someone who can't talk."
"You think you can hang?" Vega said, raising an eyebrow.
Zay dropped his bag. "Put me in the cage."
Mantis didn't wait for a bell.
He came at Zay like a meat grinder, arms windmilling, hooks aimed at Zay's head and torso with animalistic ferocity. His first swing cracked Zay across the cheekbone, drawing fresh blood. The crowd howled. But Zay, eyes gleaming like molten glass, smiled through the crimson.
"C'mon, you ugly bastard," he spat, ducking under a hammerfist. "That all you got? I've been hit harder by my deadbeat nightmares."
Mantis growled and lunged, but Zay slipped the punch with surgical grace. He rammed an uppercut into Mantis's gut so deep it lifted the man off his feet. The crowd went silent for a moment, stunned. Zay didn't stop. He pivoted, slammed two jabs into Mantis's ear, then crushed his temple with a haymaker that made the cage wall rattle. Blood sprayed like ink from a broken pen.
Mantis stumbled. Zay grabbed his head, yanked it down, and drove his knee into the man's face again and again. The sound was wet. Vile. Bones snapped like brittle twigs. Mantis collapsed, teeth scattered across the mat like shattered code.
Zay leaned over him, panting. "Next time, bring a weapon, bitch."
The room stayed quiet long enough for Zay's heartbeat to sound like a war drum.
Vega climbed into the pit. "That was… grotesque."
"Boxing," Zay said, spitting a tooth. "Pure."
She handed him a towel and gestured toward the edge of the pit. "Meet the crew."
A lanky teen with bright blue dreads and chromed-out arms nodded. "I'm Silas. Used to box in Sector R until they turned the gym into a drone-breeding plant. You fight like a ghost with a grudge."
Next was a short, jacked girl with a scar slicing through her lip and cybernetic eyes that flickered blue-red-blue. "Lena. Ex-gang enforcer. You got good footwork. Messy combos though."
Zay laughed. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind next time I'm painting the mat with someone's brain."
Silas grinned. "We're gonna get along."
Vega folded her arms. "Welcome to GravEdge. You survive the week, maybe you'll earn a locker."
Zay's voice dropped to a growl. "I'm not here for a locker. I'm here to make you all better. 'Cause if I'm not the best in this city, I'm nobody."
The lights buzzed overhead. Sweat dripped from the cage walls. Zay Calderón, blood on his fists and venom on his tongue, was just getting started.