Chapter 2: The Branton Chamber of Combat

For all the times in his life that Rick had heard people talk about the local Chamber of Combat, he didn't really know what to expect. Some people thought it was important, but it had never once been relevant to his life. Even his job interview with them had been at some adjunct branch, so this was his first time going to the actual office. Basically all he had was an address.

He found it in the older part of downtown Branton, one of the areas without any tall buildings. It was a blocky old structure with narrow rectangular windows in a style he felt like he should recognize. Across the front, large brass letters clearly stated Branton Chamber of... Commerce.

Rick muttered under his breath and looked around, trying to find the Chamber of Combat instead. They were related institutions, so surely it had to be somewhere nearby. Since he was running out of time, he swallowed his pride and just asked a suited man by the entrance, who informed him that the Chamber of Combat was actually a branch in the basement, not a separate building.

Though heading down the concrete stairs to the basement door wasn't exactly fancy, the doors opened into a nicely furnished hallway. Not as nice as the law offices he'd been in, but everything was in good condition. That was better than a lot of local institutions could say.

There was a secretary at the front desk, so he walked up to her. "Hello? I was told the deputy director wanted to talk to me about a position?"

"Hmm? Just a moment, he needs to finish another meeting first." The secretary's voice wasn't the same as the woman on the phone and she didn't seem to know anything about it. Though Rick briefly considered if it was some sort of cruel prank, after a while he stepped back and sat down in one of the chairs along the wall.

Being forced to wait after being ordered to come immediately was irritating, but he could tolerate it, so long as they didn't make him miss Melissa's ceremony. Rick found himself checking his phone repeatedly and tried to cut down on the impulse, instead glancing around the chamber.

The furnishings were as nice as he'd thought at first, but there were a few details he'd missed. Several paintings adorned recessed portions of the walls, most portraying clan heads or sect leaders who were members of the Chamber. There was a silver seal over one wall that had an elaborate engraving that he eventually figured out was the founding of Branton. Serious-looking European pioneers shook hands with serious-looking local elders. He'd been forced to learn about it in local history classes in school... more than once, because the public education system wasn't very well organized.

His thoughts wandered to the potential job itself, despite his best efforts. Working for the Chamber of Combat could actually be a satisfying job, so part of him believed there was no way he could actually get the position. He'd start on the bottom step at first, but he could potentially end up making the city a better place, maybe even stop unfair fights like the one Mike had forced on him.

Though he tried not to be superstitious, part of Rick worried that if he thought about the job positively, that would jinx it. So he checked the time again, stared at the paintings, and tapped his feet until the door behind the secretary finally opened.

"Hey, is that Rick? I'm done now, get in here!" A middle-aged man in a cheap suit popped out the door and grinned at him. There didn't seem to be anyone else in his office, so his meeting must have been by phone or spiritual connection. "Come on in, I've been wanting to talk to you!"

Still in job interview mode, Rick grinned back and shook the older man's hand as he entered. The deputy director's office was a bit cramped, but as nice as the rest of the offices. Rick glanced at the name plaque on his desk automatically a second before the man introduced himself anyway.

"I'm Jeremy Thompson, deputy director of the Branton Chamber of Combat. And boy do I have an opportunity for you!" He sat down and immediately leaned forward eagerly. "You see, the director and I have always disagreed about how to approach local fighting rings that live in a legal gray area. We know that some of the major organizers of the big tournament have a few shady practices."

"Right." Rick answered automatically while his mind flew to the Slayer match where weaker fighters had been maimed and nearly killed. That was one of many reasons he hadn't gone back to the Underground.

"Apparently the Chamber's connections to them are a bit inside baseball, lots of hush hush stuff. But what matters is that we need them to respect us as an institution. Our showing in the big tournament was downright shameful!"

Though Rick kept the smile on his face, he was afraid of where this was going. He'd done well in the tournament, but so far his accomplishment hadn't earned him what he'd hoped.

"Anyway, long story short..." Jeremy leaned even further forward. "The new budget has more funds to improve our team, and I'm in charge of those funds! Given how well you fought in the featherweight division, we wanted to snap you up before someone else did."

"I see." Somehow he managed to get the disappointment out of his voice. Though he didn't want to keep doing fights like that, even for the Chamber, he forced himself not to dismiss the offer too quickly. "You know I'm not a featherweight anymore, right? I'd be on the weak end of the welterweight class."

"Oh, but we have the budget to help you with that! We can put you up against some serious fighters and give you all the support you need to grow fast. By the next major tournament the Chamber wants to participate in, you could be at the peak of the welterweight class, I'm sure of it."

"That's certainly a generous offer... would those fights be working for the city?"

"No, we couldn't use you for that. You'd be an independent contractor." Jeremy Thompson shot him another smile and pushed a sheet of paper to Rick's side of the desk. "I had this whipped up before you came. It's all boilerplate stuff, really. The important part is that if you fight for us, we'll give you what you need to succeed."

Rick smiled and thanked him, trying to make just the right amount of eye contact, but that was all just habit. He was already starting to suspect that this wasn't the job he wanted, and scanning the sheet of paper confirmed it. The "salary" was paid mostly in philosopher's elixir and combat supplements - those were potentially valuable, but they were just using him to fight. But most importantly... "I don't see anything about health insurance here?"

"Well, as a contractor you're going to get fewer benefits." The deputy director kept the smile on his face, but it was hollow now. "You're a durable lad, though, you shouldn't be getting injured. And if it goes well enough, who knows? You could end up with a major position in the Chamber!"

"This is really flattering, but it'd be a big decision. Can I get back to you on it?"

Jeremy's smile got even less convincing. "Come on now, someone in your position should jump at a job like this. It's the chance of a lifetime!"

"You're saying I can't have time to think about it?" Rick frowned at him skeptically, wondering if this was somehow worse than past combat offers. "You rushed me here, too... is this actually above board?"

"Look... the funding to get you into this position isn't as concrete as I'd like. If you take the job, it's solid. But if we don't strike while the iron is hot, the budget could change and the whole initiative to improve our fight standing could get called off. That's why I wanted to clear this up right now."

Though Rick looked down at the sheet of terms again, he thought he already knew his answer. Yes, it was tempting to get a bunch of direct help to increase his strength. But looking at it realistically, he thought he was being temporarily hired to improve the Chamber's standing, then he'd be thrown away once he wasn't useful.

Maybe he could do what they wanted at welterweight, but after that was the middleweight class. That was Emily's class, and he'd seen what she could do. There was no way that the Chamber would invest enough for him to be competitive there, so they'd simply end his contract. Then he'd be back where he started, a little stronger but not having truly advanced anywhere in life.

"I'm flattered," Rick said, standing up, "but I don't think I can make a decision this quickly. Sorry."

"That's fine, that's fine." The deputy director stood up too and shook his hand, a little too firmly this time. He turned his smile up several more notches. "I think you're making a mistake and you'll see that soon, but it's up to you. The offer is open for another 24 hours, then I can't promise anything. Call me when you change your mind."

Though he nodded, Rick was certain that he wouldn't change his mind. He took the paper to be polite and checked his phone again - now he was seriously risking being late. As he headed out of the deputy director's office he-

"You've really disappointed me, Rick."

The cold voice made him flinch and he whirled to look toward it, even though he hadn't felt anyone at all there. But instead of some sinister assassin, Rick found himself staring at Alger: the owner of the Underground arena looked positively ridiculous in a purple suit with red highlights. He leaned on a strange crystalline cane that seemed a bit too short for him, forcing him to tilt at a dangerous angle.

"You showed such fighting spirit in the tournament!" Alger shook a fist in melodramatic outrage, his voice now more absurd than sinister. "Yet now you simply walk away from a chance like this? Working for the Chamber of Combat is exactly what you need to drive yourself forward instead of stagnating."

Rick blinked a few times as his brain got back into gear. "You work directly with the Chamber? Wouldn't they be trying to shut your operation down?"

"It's all in good fun." Alger tapped his cane against the floor idly. "They try sometimes, and I fight back. That is the nature of our world now. But enough senseless talk - are you sure I can't convince you to return and take the job offer?"

"Even if that didn't make me suspicious something was wrong with it... no. I'm done with that kind of fighting."

Alger clicked his tongue disapprovingly and turned away, coattails flying. "Pity. I believed you had the spark of a true warrior..."

Rick stared after him, wondering exactly what he had been doing there. The way he spoke about the job suggested that he had known everything about it, perhaps even been involved. Surely Alger couldn't be directly related to an official body like the Chamber of Combat when he ran an illegal fighting ring, could he? Then again, perhaps he got away with everything due to his relationships with officials.

Shaking it off, Rick rushed out the door and up the stairs. Thanks to the additional delay, he was now definitely going to be late to Melissa's ceremony. Trying to run under his own power, he'd miss the entire thing. If he used his newly improved status to take the bus, he'd only be a little late, but he absolutely wanted to be there when she walked across the combat ring.

Realizing that this wasn't the time to be stingy, Rick raised a hand and focused enough aura to hail one of the more expensive taxis. He didn't have permission to hail the highest quality ones that flew directly over the city, but now that he was in the 15^th ether tier he wasn't restricted from most of the normal options.

In a surprisingly short time, a taxi zipped up to stop at the curb beside him. It was a squat white vehicle, but it was made of lucrim and moved at the top permitted speed. He never spent money on such travel normally, but he was no longer squabbling to save every lucrim: he could afford this. Rick hopped into the back and gave the driver the address before they sped away.

He wasn't going to be too late unless they hit traffic, so Rick breathed a sigh of relief. Yet as the Chamber of Combat retreated behind him, he found himself looking back toward it repeatedly, wondering.