Your Representative Will See You Now

The scanner beeped again.

Zayne didn't flinch. The work had become muscle memory. Bag. Code. Swipe. "Next."

He didn't think about the fights. Not when he was here. Couldn't afford to. Eyes down, hands busy, mouth shut. That's how you survived in the real world.

But survival wasn't enough anymore.

His phone buzzed in his apron pocket.

He checked it between customers, expecting another system update.

It wasn't.

VOID FIST: Your representative is ready to meet.

Location: King Slice, 10:15 PM.

Don't be late. Don't bring anyone. This is mandatory.

His grip tightened around the phone.

"Mandatory."

Later that evening

Zayne drummed his fingers on the chipped red formica table, the aroma of baking crust and melted cheese heavy in the air. A neon OPEN sign buzzed softly in the window beside him, casting a bluish glow across the empty pizza shop. He tugged at his hoodie, scanning the doorway for the third time in five minutes.

His nerves were still running high from the fight last night, and now he was about to meet someone from Void Fist. He wasn't sure who to expect—certainly not the young woman who strode in at that moment, heels clicking against the tiled floor.

She couldn't have been more than nineteen. Beautiful, Black, and sharply dressed, she wore a charcoal blazer and pencil skirt that looked straight out of a boardroom. A slim briefcase was tucked under one arm. When her eyes met Zayne's, she broke into a warm, confident smile as if greeting an old friend. Zayne caught himself staring for half a second—she had a presence that filled the quiet room. He stood up hastily.

"Zayne, right?" she asked, voice bright and melodic. She extended a manicured hand. "I'm Nia. Your Void Fist representative."

Her grip was surprisingly firm. Zayne nodded. "Yeah. Hi." He gestured awkwardly to the seat across from him. "Nice to meet you."

Nia set her briefcase down and slipped gracefully into the booth. "Likewise. I've heard a lot about you." She winked, then picked up the menu. "So, what's good here? I'm starving."

Her easy charm disarmed Zayne a little.

'Not what I expected,' he thought. He sat back down as Nia perused the menu with genuine enthusiasm, as if this were a casual dinner with a friend instead of a business meeting.

"They do a pretty good pepperoni," Zayne offered, voice still holding a hint of wariness.

"Then pepperoni it is," Nia declared. She waved over the waiter and confidently placed the order for a large pepperoni pizza and two sodas. As the waiter left, she leaned on the table with an affable grin. "So, how are you feeling after last night's fight? That was one hell of a show you put on."

Zayne shrugged, reflexively rolling his bruised left shoulder. "I'm alright. A little sore." In truth, every muscle ached, and a purplish bruise spread along his jawline. The fight had been brutal. "You watched it?"

"I wouldn't be doing my job if I hadn't." Nia laughed lightly. "That uppercut you landed in the third round? Damn." She shook her head in admiration. "No wonder people are talking about you today."

Zayne found himself suppressing a smile at the compliment. He hadn't expected the conversation to start like this—so casual, even friendly. "Thanks. I almost thought I was done for in that second round, though."

They chatted easily for a few minutes. Nia told him about how she discovered this little pizza place and made a few jokes about the gaudy sports posters on the walls. Zayne felt the knot in his stomach slowly unwinding. For a moment, he could almost forget this was a Void Fist meeting.

When the pizza arrived, steaming and laden with cheese and curled pepperoni, Nia slid a slice onto Zayne's plate before taking one for herself. "Eat up," she said with a friendly grin. "You've earned it."

Zayne chuckled and took a bite. The cheese burnt the roof of his mouth, but it was good—salty, greasy, perfect. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. Across the table, Nia delicately dabbed at her lips with a napkin after taking a bite of her slice.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, her demeanor shifted.

Nia straightened in her seat, setting the pizza slice down. The friendly sparkle in her eyes cooled into a steady, businesslike gaze. She clasped her hands on the table, the sleeves of her blazer perfectly crisp. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, but it carried a new weight that cut through the cozy din of the pizza shop.

"Alright, Zayne," she said, enunciating each word with calm precision, "let's talk business."

The friendly girl who ordered pizza was gone. In her place sat something colder, sharper.

"I'll get straight to the point," she continued. Her brown eyes locked on Zayne's, allowing no escape from her gaze. "By stepping into that ring last night, you signed on with Void Fist. This isn't a game you can pause or quit. You're officially locked in now."

Zayne swallowed. He could feel his heartbeat picking up again. "Locked in..." he echoed.

"It means exactly what it sounds like," Nia said coolly. "There's no backing out. No quitting, no disappearing. You're one of us, and we take that seriously."

She let the words settle between them.

"Missing a fight is not an option. When you're scheduled, you show up. Period." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but there was an edge underneath that made Zayne believe her completely. "If you're injured, you fight injured. If you're on your deathbed—" She tilted her head slightly, letting him fill in the rest. "Void Fist doesn't do rain checks. Understood?"

Zayne gave a tight nod. "Understood." He realized he had been holding his breath and let it out slowly.

"Good." Nia remained composed, her hands still folded neatly. "From this moment forward, every move you make in that ring is being watched. The system has already begun tracking and rating you. Every punch, every win, every loss—it all goes into the algorithm."

Zayne listened intently. Despite the calm in her voice, he could feel the tension beneath it. This wasn't small talk. This was warning.

"You're currently unranked," Nia went on. "A newbie. But last night..." A faint ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "You got people's attention. You're on the edge of entering Tier One."

Zayne felt a mix of relief and impatience swirl in his gut. He was glad he wasn't thrown to the wolves immediately, but part of him bristled at still being considered nobody. He held his tongue.

Nia studied him for a moment longer. "Tier One might not sound glamorous, but it's where everyone starts. It means you're officially on the books. And it means they will really start watching you."

Zayne's hands tightened under the table. "Who exactly is they?"

Nia's smile didn't return. "You don't want to meet them yet," she said simply. "Your job is to fight, win, and follow the rules. Let them stay names on a file for now."

Zayne nodded slowly.

She tapped the table with her fingernail. "Any questions?"

A dozen swirled in his mind, but he asked only one. "What happens if someone tries to back out?"

Nia's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Let's just say it's permanent," she said. "And messy. But you won't back out, will you?"

Her stare pinned him to the seat. Zayne swallowed. "No. I won't."

She nodded approvingly. "Good."

Nia reached into her blazer and pulled out a slim envelope, sliding it across the table toward him. "Your next match details. Two weeks from now."

Zayne picked up the envelope. It felt heavier than it looked.

"When you pick your fighter handle, let me know," Nia added casually. "Real names come later."

He nodded again, barely hearing her. His mind was already racing ahead to whatever came next.

Nia stood, smoothing her skirt. Her professional smile flickered back into place.

She dropped a crisp fifty-dollar bill onto the table. "Dinner's on me."

Zayne made a move to stand, but she waved him down. "Finish your food," she said. "You'll need it."

He stayed seated, watching as she pulled a small black business card from her pocket and slid it beside his soda. A silver emblem—a fist surrounded by a void ring—was embossed into the surface. No name. Just a number.

"My number," she said. "For real emergencies."

She turned toward the door without another word, pushing it open with a soft jingle of the bell overhead. Before she left, she glanced back through the glass, raising two fingers in a casual salute.

Then she was gone.

Zayne sat there, staring at the half-eaten pizza, the envelope in his hand, the card on the table. Nia's final words echoed in his mind:

'Never let your guard down.'

Outside, the city buzzed and blinked and kept moving, same as it always had.

But for Zayne Ward, everything had already changed.