by M. T. Miller
“Not suspended in any way,” the sheriff interrupted. “But it is discouraged.”
“Which means…?”
“Nothing much,” the sheriff said. “Just that whenever you go down, someone reports it to me. Just so I know who to blame if dead bodies keep popping up.”
“Do dead bodies not pop up down there very frequently?”
“Yes, Bones. They do. So I guess you should avoid going down there, least until this mission is done with. I don’t want them to be on their guard, understand?”
“I do,” the Nameless said, just when the elevator had reached the second floor. “I understand perfectly.”
“Of course you do,” the sheriff said as the door opened and the guards’ stares intercepted both of them. He turned his attention toward them immediately. “Men, this one is good. Doesn’t need a frisk or a check.”
“Yes, sir!” the guards cried out as they moved to the side.
“Keep up the good work. I’ll be back shortly,” the sheriff said, stepping out of the lift, and the Nameless followed. They descended the stairway to the right, and immersed themselves into the current.
“You did not have to do this, you know,” the Nameless said.
“Nonsense,” the sheriff said. “I brought you up there, I’m seeing you down. Besides, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“Such as?”
“Not out here, Bones. I’ll tell you when we get to your place.”
“Fine,” the Nameless said as he shoved someone in an attempt to shorten their travel time. If it even worked, the effect was negligible at best.
Having lost another half-hour to the endless rows and lines of the second floor, they both found themselves within the apartment. After closing the door behind them, the Nameless proceeded to lock it.
“There’ll be no need for that,” the sheriff interrupted him. “I won’t be long.”
“As you wish,” the Nameless said, turning toward him, not too keen for his company anyway. He needed to find a solution to his recent hunting problem, and it would most certainly not come from socializing. “I am all ears.”
“I understand that you have yourself a big event coming up.”
“I have several,” the Nameless said. “You will have to be more specific.”
“The Endurance match, Bones,” the sheriff said. “The thing where you fight a whole lot of people.”
“Ah. Yes, I expect to make a lot of money from it.”
“Expectations are nice,” the sheriff said, pulling a cigar from the inside of his coat. “They keep you from slipping into lethargy. Know what else expectations can do, Bones?”
“I am certain that you will enlighten me.”
“Get you to do stupid shit, and then break you when said shit doesn’t work out the way you want it to.” The sheriff pulled his lighter out.
“What exactly are you getting at?” the Nameless asked. “Also, I would appreciate it if you did not smoke in here. I sleep in this room.”
“For now,” the sheriff said. “But I see your point. And I’d like you to see mine. I sure would expect you not to get maimed before our operation, Bones.” He put his lighter back into his coat, and did the same with the cigar afterward. “You follow me?”
“I do,” the Nameless said. He thought about his fighting career. His former friends. David and his daughter.
If I call off the Endurance match, it would be as if it was all for nothing. He had to do it, if not for the money, then to show what he was made of. It would be the culmination of everything he fought for in Babylon. Not to go through with it would be disrespectful.
“But I cannot cancel it,” he said, right when the sheriff was about to speak. “There is simply too much at stake.”
“Too much at stake? Am I hearing this right?”
“As rightly as I am speaking it.”
“What could possibly be so important that you’d risk what I’m offering to you?”
“I am afraid that I cannot put it into words,” the Nameless said. “It simply must be done.”
“Then, Bones—” the sheriff moved toward the door, his expression much less optimistic “—I wish you all the luck you can get. Just make sure you’re fit in time for your assignment, or I’ll have your ass jailed. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” the Nameless said as he let the old man out. “Goodbye, Sheriff. It has been enlightening.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the sheriff grumbled as he disappeared into the crowd. He might have said something more, but it was not intelligible.
Good riddance, the Nameless thought. Ponderously, he approached the bed, sat down, and pressed his fingers against his temples. Now… how do I go about this?
Chapter Thirteen
“En-dur-ance! En-dur-ance! En-dur-ance!”
The words echoed across the amphitheater.
Wrestling with grim thoughts, the Nameless stepped out of the changing booth, already in his singlet. His step was still as certain as before, but lethargy had already settled in. It was only a matter of time before his strength left him as well.
To hell with the sheriff and his guards! he thought as he proceeded toward the ring. Throughout the day, the Nameless had searched the floor left and right, all in hope of finding someone, anyone, to reap. However, the men left in charge of him were as thorough as they were numerous, and the task turned out to be impossible. There was not a place that did not have an overt pair of prying eyes.
In the end, all I have managed to do was miss out on precious sleep. He approached cage number one, surrounded by more people than he could count. Al was there, as was Andrea, along with other familiar faces. Some contestants, however, were altogether unfamiliar. Are they new? Or merely experienced fighters I have not seen before?
“Don’t waste time!” Someone hurried him along. “You’ll get more than enough time to eyeball them right and proper in the cage!”
“Right,” the Nameless said, stepping inside. As he did, the crowd let out a savage roar. Is this hatred, or something else? he wondered.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer shouted. The crowd cheered in response, in a significantly more cheerful manner then they had a moment ago.
I reckon that answers my question, the Nameless thought.
“It’s been a while, has it?” the announcer continued. Once again, a cacophony of noises followed. “I know! I know you’ve all missed it! Hell, I’ve missed it myself! Few gentlemen of the fighting cages have the stones to attempt an… Endurance match!” Another cheer.
Can we get on with it already?
“I’d like to give you all a rousing speech,” the announced went on. “Get you in the mood! But it doesn’t seem like I need to now, do I?”
Predictably, the people roared incomprehensibly.
“Of course,” the announcer said, nodding. “Then, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s get it on!” Several massive lights lit up, turning toward the Nameless instantly. In his weakened condition, he had to cover his eyes. “Give it up for Horace Bones… versus… everyone!”
The Nameless did not think it possible, but somehow, the roars got even louder than before. For an indeterminate amount of time he stood like that, covering his eyes with his hands. By the time the lights went away from him, his initial opponent was already in the cage.
“Challenger number one!” the announcer shouted. “Jack Fanning!”
Jack struck his knuckles together, and approached the center of the cage. The Nameless did the same.
I have seen him around, he thought, although they hadn’t fought before. Apparently, that was about to change.
“Ready?” the referee shouted, and the two men took on their fighting stances.
My apologies, the Nameless thought while waiting for the real signal. I cannot die here.
“Go!” the referee exclaimed, and both men exploded into action.
At least that’s what the Nameless would have liked to do. The mild lethargy he had been exp
eriencing while moving about was annoying. In the midst of battle, though, it was outright crippling. The jab he directed toward Jack’s jaw hit its mark, but not before the Nameless himself took a staggering blow to the face.
I… I am not fast enough!
He stumbled to the side in an attempt to regain his balance. His opponent would have none of that. A lightning-fast punch followed, decking the Nameless in the left rib.
No! Not now! Not like this!
Giving him all the mercy he would have been shown in kind, Jack proceeded with his elbow, eager to down his opponent and end the fight. Perhaps unintentionally, however, the Nameless started falling backward all on his own.
What followed, though, was by no means accidental. While on his way down, the Nameless used what was left of his strength to grab on to his advancing opponent. Along with a strategically placed foot, this led to the best result it possibly could: both men collapsing on top of each other.
And now to—
The Nameless was just about to proceed with his plan, but another sharp and disorienting hit to the face shattered his thoughts. Surprised and enraged at the same time, Jack kept elbowing him in the face, all while using the weight of his body to keep him in place. Blow by blow, consciousness was leaving the Nameless. Then, at one point, everything slowed down.
Just barely, he opened one eye. The lights were up above, as was the elbow that was about to erase him from the land of the living. His limbs barely had any feeling in them, and his teeth, if they were even still in place, were covered in blood.
No way to… yes! Of course!
Right as Jack’s arm was about to come down, the Nameless’ face (or what was left of it) flew up. Baring his broken teeth, he pressed his face to the side of his opponent’s neck, and buried them as deeply as they would go. As his elbow harmlessly thudded against the floor, Jack panicked, and tried to push the Nameless away from himself—a mistake he would pay for in blood.
Disoriented and numb, the Nameless fell flat on the floor. Still intent on giving him the beating of his life, Jack moved to continue his onslaught. But then, a geyser of red erupted from the side of his neck, and the Nameless spat out the sizeable chunk of flesh he had in his mouth.
Still not completely sure of what was going on, Jack landed one more punch, bathing both of them in crimson. By the time the realization came down upon him, it was already too late.
Using his opponent’s shock, the Nameless turned the tables around. He barely had any strength left, but with both of Jack’s hands wrapped around his own wound, not much was needed. Not unlike a desperate animal, he used his now-free hand to strike the other side of his opponent’s neck, causing more red to seep between Jack’s fingers. Enraged, Jack got back to hitting him, only managing to lose more blood in the process.
Cackling with joy that he would get to live another day, the Nameless kept struggling. And his opponent, too stubborn to forfeit his match, played right into his hands. For about half a minute they fought like that, before the cage door opened and security charged in.
“Break!” the referee shouted from behind three large men.
“No!” Jack shouted back, in the process of feebly hitting a barely resisting Nameless.
“We don’t get you to a doc, you’re gonna die!” one of the guards said, pointing to the still-expanding pool of blood surrounding the two fighters.
“No! I’ve fought for this!” Jack shouted, still hammering away. “It’s mine!”
“Jack!” A guard grabbed him by the forearm. Another one approached, stepping into the sticky red. “Look,” he said, forcing him to turn to his side. The way Jack’s expression changed at the sight of the floor spoke more than words ever could.
Stumbling, he tried to rise. Despite the help he had, he slipped, plummeting back downward and barely missing the Nameless. Bathed in scarlet, the men’s eyes met, and Jack was treated to the battered yet smiling face of his opponent.
“Sorry,” the Nameless mumbled out as he shakily rose. “This was necessary.”
Inhaling weakly, Jack tried to say something, but simply lacked the strength.
“You sick fuck!” one of the guards said, just as a medic was about to start sewing the wound shut. “Do you want to win that much?”
Sadly, I do, the Nameless thought, but did not reply. Instead, he turned to the one doing the stitching. “I would not bother with that,” he said. “The man is dead.”
The precious life energy he had just reaped was already seeping into him; an infallible proof of his opponent’s demise. He snapped his knuckles, and the blood stuck to his fingers. Letting his gaze fall downward, he realized that he was completely drenched.
“Oh, you’re asking for it,” the guard said, clutching his baton. The crowd, which had been booing for a while, once again became chaotic.
“Asking for it or not, sir,” the medic interceded, “he’s right. No pulse to speak of. Bled himself dry during the struggle.”
“All the more reason I—“ the guard said, about to make a move toward the Nameless, when the announcer’s overpowering baritone again took charge of the situation.
“A moment of silence for our fallen friend, folks. Many times we have seen Mr. Fanning fight within these walls.”
The guard blinked, looked at the Nameless once more, and took a step back. The aforementioned moment of silence was perhaps the least comfortable one he’d ever had to endure.
“But the show must go on!” the announcer shouted, probably too early. “We have a lot more contestants lining up, all waiting to have a crack at our unscrupulous challenger!” This time, the crowd roared in elation. “Is there no depth that Horace Bones won’t sink to in his pursuit of victory? Find out tonight, in just a few minutes!”
“You’re lucky I can’t touch you in here,” the guard said after the announcer was done.
“Then why did you not apply?” the Nameless said dismissively. Someone from the side gestured for him to hurry to the shower cabins, as his next opponent was already waiting in another cage. “I am certain that there is room for one more,” he added. Indeed, a few contestants had moved from their spots after the first fight, likely because they’d forfeited.
“You know what? Fuck you!” the guard said.
Already as fucked as I can be, the Nameless thought as he stepped out.
***
Four down.
Still fresh, the Nameless circled the center of the cage. Revitalized by the life he had taken, his opponents posed no challenge at all.
Sorry, Jack, he thought as the cage doors opened. If you had any family, a part of my winnings will go to them.
Suddenly, the crowd cheered, louder than they had for any other challenger. Taken by surprise, the Nameless turned his gaze toward the new arrival. This cannot be serious.
A lean yet wiry woman graced the arena. Adorned in a pair of stretch pants and covering her chest with bandages, she strode toward the Nameless without a hint of hesitation. She was quite pretty, but in a distinctly unnatural way: her skin was far paler than would ever be normal, and her eyebrows and hair, shaved at the sides, could only be described as violet.
“A bit too much paint on your face,” the Nameless said as he extended his hand.
“Sorry, dude,” she said, hitting his palm instead of squeezing it. “This ain’t make-up!”
Facial tattoos? the Nameless wondered as they stepped back. Another member of the Rainbows, maybe? That slap was rather strong.
“Be careful of her!” David shouted from the side, strangely unnerved. “That’s Rush! As far as I know, she moved upward about half a year ago!”
“What is she doing here, then?” the Nameless asked.
“Beats me!” David said. “She’s tough! Don’t take this lightly!”
“Are you done?” Rush said, just as the Nameless was about to reply. “Can we get to the good part, or do you ladies need to get yourselves a room?”
Impressive hearing, the Nameless thought as he turned back
toward her. I would rather get a room with you. Regardless of how ridiculous she looked, in a way it was alluring.
“Ready,” he said.
“Go!” the referee shouted, in an obvious attempt to cut away the needless chatter. Welcoming the signal, Rush darted forward, and the Nameless did the same.
It matters not how skilled you are, he thought a moment before the collision. Head on, I win.
He could not have been more wrong.
The force of impact exceeded anything a sane man would have expected. Pushed back, the Nameless lost his footing and hit the floor flat on. What the…?
He tried jumping to his feet, but the sharp pain that originated from his side significantly slowed him. Is… is my rib broken?
Standing right in front of him, arms up in the air, Rush was more than ready to keep going.
How? The Nameless wanted to shout, instead only managing to cough. The woman’s response came in the form of her namesake. Like a bolt of lightning, her fist flew toward his face. Just barely, he managed to avoid it.
I need a trick, he concluded as he dodged another swing, this time with even greater difficulty. If nothing changed, the next one would hit him head-on.
Think! Panic started taking over. It cannot end!
In slow motion, he saw Rush’s smiling face, a moment before her fist eclipsed it. Not at the hands of a—
A lot of pain followed, but only for a moment. After that, everything went black.
Chapter Fourteen
“Well now, if it isn’t everyone’s favorite jackass?”
Just barely aware of his surroundings, the Nameless tried opening his eyes. Sadly, the room turned out to be too bright, and he had to close them immediately.
“I know you’re awake, stupid!” The voice spoke again. “How about saving us all some time and speaking up?”
“Sh—Sheriff?” the Nameless just barely managed to slur out. Every single letter stung as if it had to cut its way out of his throat. While flicking his tongue, he painfully noticed that he was missing a good number of his front teeth.
“A hole in one!” the sheriff said. “Not quite as deep as the one you’ve dug for yourself, but impressive nonetheless.” He sounded strange, as if he spoke from behind a very thin wall.