The Sphere

Jay stepped into the sphere for his first fight, the boy he was fighting hovered a few inches above the ground, a confident smirk on his face. A flyer. They were damn hard to fight. Jay was no flyer. There was a big debate over whether flyers should be moved up to the Major Power’s division. As yet they hadn’t.
Fighting a flyer presented a lot of challenges that you didn’t face with most abilities. It added a verticality to the fight that you didn’t get with any other fighters. Well other than teleporters; but they were in the majors.
Of course Jay’s ability - accelerated healing - changed fights up quite a bit as well. But usually it only meant they went on for a bit longer because of the increased ability to take a beating.
There was no argument as to whether Jay’s power should be moved up a class. Even here, in the Minor Power division, accelerated healing was seen as a weak ability, and there was actually some argument to put it down to the lowest power class of the three competitive classes - the Gifted division. Where Jay would find himself among such terrifying competitors as the guys with superhuman lung capacity or the ones with adhesive skin - whose only real advantage over a normal human was their ability to climb - slowly - up the side of the sphere.
Jay didn’t really want to fight here, it was his first and would most likely be his last bout. He had to do it, though, and he wasn’t completely sure why. Just that lately it had been irking at him, that he wanted to get into the sphere and feel what it was like. To feel what his father felt.
It wouldn’t be entirely the same feeling of course. Jay’s father, John Lacero, had been a world champion during his fighting days. Quite a stage compared to the college sports hall Jay stood in. But still, he wanted a taste of the feeling. Jay supposed that was a good enough reason to fight.
Him and his father did share one thing, both fought with weak abilities for the league they were in. His father had been a strengther, his ability, enhanced physical strength, had been an underdog power in the majors; the league his father had fought in.
The sphere rippled all around Jay - created by three forcers around the large bubble, using their ability to maintain the impenetrable walls - it distorted the crowd of spectators slightly, as if they were being viewed through a blue hued heatwave.
The boy opposite Jay in the sphere was Jay’s age, eighteen, and Jay knew him from History - a class they shared on a Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. His name was Marek, Jay knew, a student come to London from some European country or another. Marek was here on a fighting scholarship and as far as Jay knew he was the best minor power fighter in the College. He looked more a fighter than Jay as well, they were of a height, both fairly tall, but Marek was lean and well muscled where Jay was more stocky and definitely not displaying the chiseled chest and six pack of his opponent. The difference was very noticeable as they both only wore shorts.
How did I end up here. Jay thought, as he studied the spherical force field circling the ring for the first time from the inside instead of out, out where it was safe. Why would they put my first fight against this guy?
But Jay knew why; another gift from his father. To lay more shame on the already shamed Lacero name that Jay carried. His father’s rise and fall was not forgotten - especially here in the sphere - here it would never be forgotten.
Marek bowed his head to the referee - a telekinetic, like all refs of the sphere - Jay bowed his head as well. The three of them locked in by the powerful force field.
Jay’s heart pounded as he stepped forward to hear the ref’s words. Jay knew he wouldn’t die, definitely wouldn’t die, but he sure felt like he was going to. People had of course - died - but rarely, and not for a while.
About time for another, don’t ya think? A dark voice in his head whispered.
There were knitters - people with the ability to heal those they touched - on hand at the side of the ring, but Jay wouldn’t need them, if he didn’t die in here his body would heal itself better than they could. It had spent a lot more time healing him than they had.
The ref began the regulated and approved words:
‘You both know the rules, keep the fight clean. Anyone falls unconscious, anyone looks to be no longer defending themselves intelligently, anyone taps out or screams stop - and the fight is over. Remember to protect yourself at all times and above all, obey my command at all times. That’s it. Go to war.’
And with that Jay felt the blast of air as the ref brought his own telekinetic shield up, the bell rang, and a moment later Marek was coming at him, flying through the air like a bullet.
All thought of a fight plan went out of his head and Jay leapt to the side out of the flying boy’s way.
What the fuck am I doing? Jay’s mind blasted at him as he rolled over and came back up only to see Marek swerving in mid air and coming at him again. He’s going to kill me.
This time Jay remembered the plan in this extremely predictable scenario.
He bent his knees and jumped straight at Marek. It took the flyer by surprise and, before he could change course or even bring his hands up to guard his face, he slammed into Jay - their heads butting into each other. Jay felt the skin on his forehead tear open and Marek stumbled to the side, his feet touching the ground for the first time. Jay grabbed onto the boy from behind and lifted him up in the air to slam him back down. An old wrestling move his father had taught him - the man always so sure that the old school had its place in modern fighting.
Marek didn’t come slamming down on his head though, as was Jay’s plan. Instead the boy launched himself up into the air on invisible wings - Jay going up with him, strapped to him like a back pack.
They flew up together, Jay impressed at how strong the boy’s flight was, knowing flying was affected by mass. They went up over fifty feet, to what had to be practically the top of the sphere, before Marek stopped flying upwards and started bucking like a bull. Trying to throw Jay from his back.
Jay held on for dear life.
His fingers were slipping though, Marek wore only shorts, like Jay, and there was nothing to grab onto. Jay was slipping and it seemed the crowd knew it, for the college sports hall was filled with screams and cheers. All of them wanting to see Jay plummet back to the ground.
And - Jay realised with a sickening lurch in his stomach - they are going to get what they want.
He couldn’t hold on.
His fingers lost their grip and, with one last shake from Marek, Jay felt himself shoved off of him. Into the open air. He was reminded of his old friend Logan, of a tree in a park, of childish dares.
He began to drop, as he fell he could feel the open cut on his forehead healing itself. You’re going to have a lot more to deal with soon. A sick laugh escaped him as he dropped through the air.
CRASH!
He slammed into the ground, his head whipping back into the matted floor. It would have knocked out a normal human, but Jay was resilient to being knocked out because of his healing factor. He felt his spine fracture under the landing and his whole body tingled sharply as he lost his ability to move any of it. He was pretty sure he’d broke something in his right shoulder, and definitely his left leg had landed at a wrong angle.
People gasped in the audience and Jay couldn’t blame them, he must have looked a mess.
Above, Marek was little more than a speck, but on the screen behind the flying boy Jay could see his face zoomed in on as he shouted to the ref. He seemed to be saying that that should be enough to stop the fight. He was saying it was over. The he won.
‘Not with a healing factor.’ The ref replied. ‘It’s not over until he taps out or is knocked unconscious.’
Jay sighed. Really, this isn’t enough?
He made to reach out his arm to tap out but found that the arm couldn’t move.
Oh yeah, my spine and all that.
Marek came dropping through the air to him. Seemingly reluctant to continue the fight.
Jay realised the referee was right, though. It wasn’t over. He focused everything he had on healing his injuries. With enough focus he could speed up the process considerably. Specifically he focused on his spine, it was the thing stopping him moving after all. He could feel his body stitching itself back together. With a stinging jolt he felt something in his back push itself in place, and then feeling flushed back through his whole body. He sat up just as Marek reached him - the boy had come slowly, sure it was over so in no rush, and Jay was thankful for his lack of urgency, it gave him just enough time to heal. Sitting up now, Jay pushed his dislocated shoulder back into place with his good hand. It popped and began to heal back to normal now that it was in place. His leg was sorting itself out and wouldn’t need any special attention.
‘Hmm.’ Marek said, landing beside Jay and looking his body over. ‘You heal quick.’
He said it with something like awe in his voice. It didn’t stop him from kicking Jay in the face though. Jay was knocked onto his back from the kick. His nose splattering out blood from the blow. Jay used the momentum of his fall to roll all the way over his shoulder backwards and land back up on his feet. His body still feeling battered, but mostly in working order.
Before Marek could regain his composure from the kick, Jay was on him; throwing punch after punch and knowing Marek could not heal from them as Jay could. The boy pushed off the ground to fly up again, to escape the flurry of punches.
But as he rose up into the air Jay saw the opportunity and threw a powerful cross punch into Marek’s exposed solar plexus. The boy was conditioned and fit but even so, the connection was perfect and Marek fell back, dropping out of the air and onto his back, like a bird shot from the sky. He yelped in pain at the clearly intense winding the punch had given him.
Jay saw the opportunity as the boy was overcome with pain and dived on him, Marek went to push him off, all thought of fight etiquette gone, and Jay swung round his outstretched arm and fell back into an arm bar.
It was clear to Jay that Marek was not well trained in ground fighting, which made sense considering the nature of his ability.
Jay straightened the arm to just before the point of breaking so that Marek would tap out. It was technically legal to break the arm in competition, because of the required knitters on the side of ring who were ready to heal any wound once a fight was over, but usually it was seen as poor form to do so, as it was very possible to do permanent damage that the knitters could not completely fix. Their ability to heal others was much weaker than Jay’s own ability to heal himself. It was just the nature of the different abilities.
Jay lent on the arm just enough to cause severe pain and, after a moment of indecision, Marek began tapping the mat. First coy taps, then, when Jay kept hold instead of immediately releasing, he began to slam the mat with his palm - thoughts of embarrassment gone and replaced only with fear of his arm being snapped at the elbow.
Jay felt himself thrown off of the boy by the telekinetic pull of the referee and the realisation of what had just happened struck him.
I won. He thought, sitting on his arse as the ref checked Marek’s arm to see if the knitters were needed. I actually won.
The referee gestured for Jay to stand up and stood between the two of them. Then, placing his hand on Jay’s, he rose it into the air, and the crowd cheered for him. Most of the hall was shouting for him and he could see his mother’s face in the audience, looking at him, and it was sadness he saw there, not happiness, it didn’t shock him.
He enjoyed the fight, enjoyed being inside the sphere, he loved it… and she could tell. She saw his father in him and for the first time Jay felt like he’d inherited something worth having from the old man.
He was a fighter.