As the weeks progressed, Viktor got better at fighting. The once squeamish guilt in his gut whenever he fought something smaller than him was nonexistent. They were animals, fighting to survive this Hell just as he was. There was no time for pulling his punches and his kicks to something that would not offer the same mercy to him. There was no hesitation when he fought things that towered over him, either. He fought to live, to eat the next day, and to please the ringmaster.

After the beating he had received for something as idiotic as making the fight short, Viktor made sure that there was no reason for the ringmaster to be cross with him and by extension, the rest of the humans. The ways that the other humans had tried to protect him in any way they could did not go unnoticed by the ringmaster.

Once, Ezekiel, who had had enough of fighting for he had fought three times in a row that week, had refused to budge from his cell, no matter the blows and shocks from his collar. He was a large man, and even the aliens could get hurt by an attacking human as big as he. The ringmaster had gotten called in, who had yelled something at Ezekiel. Still, the big man refused to budge.

Ezekiel had said that he'd take a beating over another week of fighting any day. He was stubborn as a mule, even when the rest of the humans had tried telling him to comply. If Ezekiel got himself killed, they would be distraught. Ezekiel had kept quiet, but Viktor suspected that he might prefer death over this. He thought that sometimes, too.

The ringmaster, instead of giving up and slamming the cage shut, had barked out an order, and Viktor's cage had opened. Jumping back from the door in alarm, he scrambled to put distance between himself and the alien approaching him with a hateful gleam in his eye. "No, no, no, please," had fallen from his lips and onto deaf alien ears as he was dragged out of his cell by a large hand on his collar.

It hadn't taken much more than that to convince Ezekiel to exit his cell, yelling obscenities at the aliens, who didn't really care. He had come back from fighting still angry, arms covered in the blood of whatever creature he had fought. After reassuring himself that Viktor had been put back in his cage unharmed, he settled in a corner and stayed silent the whole night.

Nowadays, it only took a glance in Viktor's direction to persuade the humans to cooperate. They didn't want to risk the possibility of another beating. It warmed Viktor's heart to see that they cared so much about him, but it also made him angry that the ringmaster would use him as a bargaining chip.

However, that didn't stop some of the other mean aliens from tormenting Viktor. They found it funny how he flinched and the other humans protested and shouted loudly every time they opened the door to his cage. Notail and Tail were particularly nasty to him. They didn't tend to stop at the doorway, they actually went in. Oftentimes, one of them would come into his cell and shove him around.

It wouldn't have been so bad, had they not been ten feet tall and stronger than they looked. Whenever he got to his feet, they would yell, "Kora, Kohgrash!" and laugh at how he flinched and brought up his arms. They never struck him hard enough to leave considerable lasting damage, especially since the ringmaster had yelled and raged when he had found out Viktor had been unable to fight when they had done it last due to unending dizziness. They had struck his head hard enough to send him sprawling on the floor, and he had only gotten back up because he heard the ringmaster enter.

The humans knew to talk only when there were no aliens in the room, aside from Lilac, with who they had all grown semi-comfortable. She was the only alien who treated them with any kindness, and by that, they meant that she never slammed on their bars and yelled loudly at them. She scooped more gruel into their dishes after a fight and tried to heal everyone she could with the stinging ointment. Some of the humans, the ones that Viktor had rarely spoken to since they were so far away, distrusted her regardless of the help she offered. He couldn't blame them. Viktor hardly trusted her himself.

Still, it was nice to have someone in their corner, even if it was just slightly.

They all spoke quietly in the night, voices carrying well enough in the still air to be heard all the way down to the end of the warehouse. It had been a couple of months since they had been taken from Earth, and they had run out of hope long ago. Their lives consisted of fighting, eating, and sleeping.

Right now, Viktor was sprawled on top of his straw bed, body aching from the recent fight he had. Some big animal with a club-like tail had got him pretty good on the side. Thankfully, no ribs were broken, but it still stung whenever he breathed in too deep. He was listening to Aiko's soft humming, eyes drooping. He was nearly asleep, thinking of nothing and anything. He wondered what his dad was doing. Hopefully, whatever the aliens had wanted them for initially was pleasant and his dad was living it up in some nice comfy bed, with air-conditioning and heating. Maybe they had shoved him into some alien zoo, with soft grass and visible skies. Maybe he wasn't even on this planet. If they were on Earth, they'd have surely taken a trip to the local park to go fishing for...

Oh, shit.

Viktor sat up quickly, wincing as his rubs pulled uncomfortably. He laughed a bit dryly and without humor at the stark unfairness of the situation. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, taking in deep breaths.

He had passed his sixteenth birthday in this hellhole.

He would've taken his driver's license test by now, and he would've passed easily. He'd be the one to drive his friends around in the old beat-up Buick his dad had said that he had driven when he was his age. His dad would've allowed him to drive to the park with their fishing rods in the back of the car, eager to sit by the river bank and talk about nothing. He could've gone to the movies without relying on his dad or a friend to pick him up or drop him off. He would've been independent.

He would've been free.

"What's the matter, Vik?" Pedro said, interrupting the quiet peace that had settled over the warehouse. They had grown pretty friendly with each other considering they shared a wall.

Viktor shook his head, sighing as he dropped his hands into his lap. He fiddled with the drawstrings, or what remained of them, of his hoodie. "I'm sixteen, now," he said sardonically. "My birthday was probably a week ago." He groaned as he stretched his arms above his head, hearing the satisfying pop of his spine. "It doesn't really matter, though. I'm just missing my dad. Hoping he's alright."

After a beat of silence, he started to tell Pedro about their fishing trips. In turn, Pedro told him about his family's own traditions; going out to eat at an uncle's restaurant, going to a state fair every year. It made Viktor realize that everyone here had someone they missed, something they wished they could do one last time.

"I won't let us die in here," Viktor promised, fueled by simmering anger and the desperate need to live for something bigger than this cell. The promise was full of hope, even if the humans had none. He would get them out of here, he would.

Pedro hummed in response. He had been the first one to stop believing in the possibility of getting out. "Well, for what it's worth, happy birthday."

***

Fight after fight. Punch after punch. Viktor had lost count of how many times he's come out of the arena bloodied and aching. Once in a blue moon would he come back to his cage unharmed, suffering only from slight dehydration, exhaustion, and frazzled nerves. Too many times he was forced into the shabby veterinary office attached to the side of the arena. It doubled as an office, for there were boxes stacked high with papers and receipts. Still, they were able to strap the animals down to the semi-sterile examination table while they set bones, stitched up wounds, and rubbed the burning ointment on open cuts.

Viktor was currently in the office, strapped down to the table. He thrashed, snarling fiercely at the alien who was trying to clean up his wounds. He had fought one of those snake creatures again, intent on not making the same mistake of letting the fight end early again. As such, he had let the creature get him a couple of times.

However, those wounds had been superficial. He would've been able to go back to his cell peacefully, had the last move of the fight not happened. The creature had been clearly desperate to win this fight, even though Viktor was thrice its size, much stronger, and had been basically kicking its snake ass the whole time. It had launched at Viktor's face, holding on like it had been glued to his face. He had been caught off guard, used to its previous moves of sticking low to the ground.

He had clawed at the creature, grunting and yelling in effort as he managed to push it away from his face. He smacked it down, but it still got up, struggling. Again, it launched at Viktor's face, but he had been ready that time. He was knocked to the ground with the force of its jump. Grabbing it around the forelegs, Viktor used the only weapon he had on him.

His teeth.

He had bit right into the creature's throat, citrus-tasting blood filling his mouth. He choked as it began to sizzle slightly. He clamped down harder until the creature stopped struggling. He pushed it away, feeling the blood dripping down his front as he staggered to his knees. It had begun to burn, just slightly, and that's when he remembered that the beast had looked venomous.

But no, it had not been the beast that had been venomous.

It had been Viktor.

The bacteria in his mouth had reacted violently to the snake creature's blood. It had sizzled in his mouth and dribbled onto the front of his shirt. Unlike the dead creature lying at his feet, Viktor was relatively unharmed. But the aliens had seen the blood frothing and had forced him into the office.

So now, he was struggling against the straps they had hooked onto the table. It had been a fight and a half to get him to this point, and Viktor wasn't quite sure why they hadn't shot him with a tranq. His body was still in fight or flight mode, and considering he had been fighting almost every day for half a year, he was stuck firmly in fight mode.

The vet alien, though he definitely did not look like he passed vet school, pushed his head down onto the table, extracting a grunt from Viktor as he smacked a bit too hard onto the metal. The alien's hand covered almost his whole face, leaving his nose and mouth free. Viktor was pinned.

Chest heaving as he tried to fight down the swelling panic, Viktor tried his best to calm himself down and cooperate with this alien. Clearly, all he wanted to do was clear the blood from him and take a look at his wounds. Why then was it so difficult for Viktor to allow that? He gritted his teeth in frustration, feeling the alien wipe down his hoodie with a rag.

He felt a large finger prod at his mouth, and Viktor turned as best he could and snapped his teeth dangerously, breathing quickening. He did not want some alien's fingers in his mouth!

Something cold was shoved into his mouth, pressing painfully against his gums until he opened his mouth unwillingly. Whatever it was expanded once inside, and Viktor found himself unable to close his mouth. Letting out a wordless groan, he started his struggle again. Thankfully, it seemed that all the alien did was inspect the inside of his mouth, because its hand and the contraption were quickly removed from his face. He heard it chattering with whoever else was in the room.

A quick shock to his collar had him stilling as the straps were released from his arms, legs, and chest. "Kohgrash," he was beckoned angrily to the floor, which he obeyed quickly, feeling bitter at the action. He had long ago stopped blaming himself for obeying the aliens, especially since he had no choice in the matter. It was life or death here, and Viktor was under no delusions that he'd be killed just as easily if he stopped being useful. That didn't mean he couldn't be pissed about it, though.

He heard the familiar leash click into place at the back of his collar and started walking hurriedly back to the warehouse.

"What took you so long?" Ezekiel asked when he had been placed back into his cell and the alien had left.

"Had to bite one of those snake bastards. Its blood got all foamy so they put me in the vet's." Viktor wrinkled his nose, washing his mouth out with water in between words. "Apparently our bite is pretty toxic to some of these guys. Killed it pretty fast. Too bad I didn't bite the ringmaster harder that one time." Maybe he would've lost his finger.

"Nice," Pedro laughed, reaching out to slap Viktor on the back. Viktor grinned up at him, still crouched over his water trough. "How'd you manage to even bite those things? They are squirrely."

After he gave a play-by-play of his fight with the snake creature, his friends praised his ingenuity. He knew, realistically, that they were simply trying to stay positive in the face of something so cruel, and had Viktor done something like this outside of the arena, he would've been met with scorn for having broken the norms of acting like an animal.

But there were no rules in this place. So he was praised.

Yeah, this whole ring-fighting business was the worst thing that could've happened to Viktor. But, he mused as he sat heavily on his straw pile and listened to the other's fight stories and told his own, trading tips and tricks, he could've been stuck with worse people.

***

Vocabulary:

kora: bad or naughty, a light scolding