The Bloody Tree

You're fast. You're strong. You obey your skin. That had been enough to win every fight.

You throw an illogical punch unconcerned about its nonsensical target. It's met with a block that seems to make it worse.

The hardest part had been forgetting your training. The suit you're wearing has dozens of shallow eyes, subtle wires to nudge your movements, and a distributed AI that's so far ahead of any human fighting style as humans are behind in chess.

Your arm gets moved - so something breaks - your knee hits an organ. You don't know the balance of the exchange.

The trick was not to trust your new skin but to surrender to it. Knife and gun and fist - the skin is your most dangerous weapon, and you're its least dangerous tool. At the end of every fight you've been the one alive.

You're thrown to the ground and your opponent follows, or it's the other way around.

This fight has not yet ended. You're both wearing suits.

Your opponent starts gouging your eyes. Your suit lets them, calculating the sacrifice worth taking out one of their hips.

He looks as scared as you are. And then you can't see anything, but the suit has the eyes that matter.