The Berserker
By mrmonster
He and I were locked in combat, eyes staring at each other like two wolves fighting for dominance of the pack. He threw a round kick at me, hoping it would land and knock me down, but I stepped backwards in time to evade it. I then threw two punches at him, a jab and a cross. He raised his arms to block both, but I was expecting that. I then threw another jab, which once again caused him to raise his arms to block, but I then quickly used the momentum from my punch to turn all the way into a spinning side kick, one that landed right in the center of his stomach. The impact folded him like a cheap beach chair.
About two seconds later, the bell rang, and our sensei shouted “TIME!” The match was over, and even though there were officially no winners and losers in classroom free sparring, it was clear that I had come out on top in the match.
“Sparring gear, off!” Our sensei ordered.
As we went to the dojo’s shelves to put away our protective gear, my opponent, Patrick, came up to me and said “Wow, you’ve got one Hell of a turning side kick?”
“Thank you.” I said. “That’s my signature combo, the jab-cross followed up by a jab-turning side kick. No one ever sees it coming.”
“Is that so?” He asked. “You know, do you wanna get a drink sometime? First rounds on me.”
I said “You know, that sounds great.”
_____
The next day we went to a local bar to get a beer. Patrick was a fairly new student at our school, but one who’d already gotten a black belt at a different location, so he was placed immediately in the advanced class.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what got you into taekwondo?” He asked.
“Just needed something to keep me in shape after the Army.” I answered. “To be honest, my life lost a lot of purpose after I left. I went from doing something that felt fulfilling, to sitting at a desk processing Amazon orders. But the dojo helped me regain that warrior spirit, you know?”
“Oh, I fully understand.” Patrick said. “You’re very good, it’s no wonder they made you the assistant instructor.”
“Thank you.” I said as I took another sip of beer.
“So, tell me a little bit about yourself.” Patrick said, and it was the start of a long conversation.
_____
I didn’t think much of our conversation at the bar, just figured I’d made a new friend. But a few nights later, while I was fast asleep, I heard Patrick say “Good morning.” as I found him staring at me over my bed, fully dressed in a business suit. Beside him were two men in thick padded armor, each having weapons strapped to their utility belt.
Of course, I tried to fight back. I punched one and kicked the other, but against their armor, my strikes just bounced off. They quickly overpowered and subdued me. They gagged me, hooded me, cuffed me, then stuck a syringe in my arm that made me feel very tired all of a sudden. They then dragged me to my garage, where I was loaded into the back of a van they had parked there.
“Don’t worry, we’ll explain later.” Patrick said as I drifted off to sleep.
______
When the hood and gag were taken off, I was in some sort of gym. Patrick was standing there, still in his suit.
“Good morning.” He said.
I then grabbed him by his shirt collar and said “Dude, you have about two seconds to tell me where I am before I…”
“Ugh ugh, I wouldn’t be so feisty if I were you.” He said as he pointed to one of the windows in the gym. Behind it were four guards, dressed the same as the armed, armored thugs who kidnapped me. “They’re under orders to control you nonlethally, but they’re free to make things very painful for you.”
I let go of him.
“But, since it is important you know, the truth is that I’m not who I say I am. You see, I’m a bit of a talent scout for my boss. I won’t give you his name, but we normally refer to him simply as The Berserker, I suggest the two of us do the same. The Berserker is a very, very wealthy man with a very, very particular hobby.”
“What hobby?” I asked.
“Fighting, to the death.” He answered. “He gave boxing and MMA a try in his younger years, and even made amateur leagues in both, but having to stop at knockout just never satisfied him. So, he has scouts such as myself, who find gifted fighters & martial artists like you, drawn from gyms and dojos all over the country. We bring them here, and hope to give him a real challenge.”
“Here, if you’ll turn your attention to the monitor, you’ll see what you’re up against.”
He used a remote to play a video on a TV in a corner of the gym. A video showed two men stepping into the ring. One was wearing nothing but athletic shorts, and a dark mask that concealed his face. The other wore only sweatpants & boxing gloves.
“The one in the mask is The Berserker.” He explained. “The man you see him up against, was a two time Golden Gloves boxer.”
The boxer began throwing punches, but nothing landed. The Berserker moved with the speed and finesse of a cat, never staying in one spot for more than a moment or two. After the boxer began wearing himself out, The Berserker threw a roundhouse kick that took out his leg, forcing the boxer to then start hobbling in pain as he tried to continue the fight.
The Berserker then dashed behind him and threw another round kick, this one that landed right at the base of his spine. The boxer’s scream of pain was nothing short of blood curdling.
The Berserker then wrapped his arm around his neck, and put him in stranglehold, and did not stop until the boxer finally just lost life.
“This can’t be real.” I said. “There’s no way you can actually get away with this.”
“That’s why we’re careful.” Patrick continued. “That’s why we have scouts all over the country. His last fight was against a college wrestler we picked up at a college campus in Mississippi. Before then, a Brazilian jiu-jitsu prodigy from a gym in Idaho. I can go on, but I think you get the point.”
“He’s won all of his past 118 fights.” Patrick explained. “And in three days, you will most likely be his 119th.”
“Between now and then, you have free reign of this gym, and the living quarters in the room behind that door. If you want food, any food, our 24 hour kitchen staff can whip up anything you want. The Berserker wants you to be fully prepared for your duel.”
_______
I ordered lobster tail just to see if Patrick was serious. To my shock, it was delivered to the gym in about twenty minutes. It even came with a glass of white wine (that I hadn’t even asked for), along with a note signed by the chef that read “I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I served this lobster tail without this perfect wine pairing.” Patrick wasn’t kidding when he said they’d bring me whatever food I wanted, although it felt less of a kindness and more of them just trying to fatten up the pig they were about to slaughter. I wouldn’t be much of a show for the crowd if I was weak when I entered the cage.
But I intended to be at full strength during my fight. I knew I was playing into what they wanted, but I also didn’t care. If I was gonna die, I was going to die fighting. So I spent those three days working out just hard enough to not injure myself. I would pound the heavy bags, lift weights, and run on the treadmill for as much as I could take, for hours on end, for all three of my training days. It was all I had to do; the only things I could get to play on the gym’s TV were exercise videos. I didn’t have any books, any magazines, and the only people I had to talk to were the guards (and to put it mildly, they weren’t very conversational).
By the end of it, I was in the best shape of my life. Even when I was in the Army, I was never in such great shape. I felt ready to take on the world. But was I ready to take on him?
_______
“Are you ready?” Patrick asked me, as it was time to step out and faced why lay ahead of me.
“Yeah.” I said, coldly.
“I do hope you know that this isn’t personal. If anything I kind of liked you. But we all have a place in this world, I’m sure an ex soldier of all people understands that.”
I wanted to kill him right then and there, for having the gall to compare his crimes to my service. But there were two guards hovering over me, both with their palms resting on the handles of his firearms, ready to draw & fire the moment I stepped out of line. So I held my anger, and walked to the arena like a man.
“Ladies and gentlemen” a disembodied voice boomed over the intercoms, as the crowd went wild. I have no idea how or why The Berserker got an audience for these fights, or what kind of sociopath would actually pay to be there, but whatever the reason, the stands had dozens of people there to see me die.
I stepped into the ring, and the announcer said “Today’s challenger stands 6’3, weighing in at 185 pounds. He has eleven years of taekwondo under his belt, but will that be enough? He’s about to find out.”
And then, The Berserker entered the ring. He was at least two inches taller and much more jacked than I ever was, I could tell that this alone was gonna make it a difficult fight.
“On three!” The announcer shouted. “1…2…3!”
The Berserker then came at me with a flying round kick that would have shattered my rib cage if it had landed. Thankfully, I evaded just in time, and his foot flew through the air.
But before I could even counter, he continued the turn and threw a spinning elbow strike that landed right on the side of my face. I then spit out one of my own teeth.
He followed up a flurry of punches, but I stepped backwards to keep his fists away from me, until I felt the cold metal of the cage.
He thought he had me cornered and helpless, and he went on the offensive, hoping to land a knockout punch. This was a mistake; as he came charging in, I lifted my front leg and shot a lightning fast sidekick directly to his liver.
He stumbled backwards in pain & shock. For the first time in the fight, I had a moment of advantage, and I didn’t intend to waste it. I followed up with a spinning wheel kick that made his jawline meet my heel.
Before he could recover, I threw a body punch that landed right in his stomach. I then tried to throw another, but he blocked it in time. And then, before I could throw anything else, he stepped in close, grabbed my arm, and threw me to the ground, judo style.
He then began making it rain hammerfists all over me. I tried to cover myself as best as I could, but he was constantly moving over me, finding new spots to slam his hands into.
If I didn’t stop this, I’d be a goner. So I crawled out from underneath him, and then used bicycle kicks to create some distance. Once I put a few feet between us, I hopped back on my feet.
I then went on the offensive. I stepped forward and threw a punch, but he stepped back. This gave me an idea; my signature combo had never failed me before, why wouldn’t it help me now?
I threw two punches at him, a rapid jab-cross combo. He raised his hands to block, and stepped back. After resetting, I threw another jab; he once again put his hands up to his face to block, but this time, I twisted my hips, and nailed him right in his exposed, unprotected stomach.
He collapsed in pain, and spat out a mouthful of blood. Back in the dojo, my kicks were usually softened by foot pads, chest protectors, and my inclination to not hurt my friends. But in this arena, none of those things were there to stop my sidekick from devastating him. All I had to do was decide how to finish him off, and I figured stomping on his neck would be as easy as anything.
I had never killed anyone before, not even during my time in the Army. I wasn’t sure if I could even follow through with it; but I won’t lie, I enjoyed the feeling of crushing his windpipe a lot more than I thought I would. Watching him try to breathe only to suffocate was the icing on the cake.
______
After the fight, the guards escorted me out.
“PATRICK!” I shouted as my former opponent’s lackey came out.
“Yes, sir.” He said.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t do to you what I just did to your boss.” I said.
“Sir, please calm down.” Patrick said.
“I could’ve died in there. I…”
“Sir, please, sit.” Patrick said.
I took a deep breath, and then took a seat. I decided to at least hear him out before killing him.
“Don’t lie, I saw the look on your face. You enjoyed the feeling of taking the life out of him, didn’t you?”
I did not care about Patrick enough to bother lying to him. “Yes, I did.” I answered, bluntly.
“Sir, these fights make more money than you’ve ever dreamed of. Tickets to be in the audience cost $50,000 each. Our dark web live streams cost $2,000 per view.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Completely. The only other places on Earth that provide an experience even close to this are in third world shitholes where you’d take him a deadly disease as a souvenir. For those wanting a bit of luxury with their show of blood, this is truly a one of a kind experience.”
“And our headliner, the one they all come to see, is now dead. Do you get what I’m saying?”
_____
A month later…
“Are you ready, sir?” Patrick asked me.
“100%.” I said as I finished my stretch kicks.
Patrick then turned to a guard and said “Let the announcer know it’s time to open the fight.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please introduce our returning champion!” the announcer boomed as I entered the ring.
“And in this corner, we have the challenger. A Muay Thai fighter, handpicked from one of the toughest gyms in Louisiana.”
It was time to start my first real day at my new job.
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