Chapter 10: The Underground

Rick lived in a bad part of town, but as they headed away from the suburbs of Branton, he realized that there were very different kinds of bad. In his neighborhood everyone knew the meth dealers and cops always traveled with lucrim weapons. But the one he was entering was where he suspected the meth came from, and he doubted the police came by very often.

As he got further in, he regularly saw demolished houses. A few of them might have been formally taken down, but more looked as though they had been burned or smashed apart. Arson, fights, accidents? There was no way to tell, though he suspected some of all three.

Beyond that, the people were different. There was some violence in his part of town, but everyone generally kept to themselves, casting suspicious looks at most. If people had looked at him with the sort of predatory cruelty he saw now, he would never have let Melissa live there.

"Don't look nervous. If you look nervous, they'll target you," Henry said. This was not helpful.

"You think that's going to make me less nervous?"

"You shouldn't be, man. We might not be hotshot fighters carrying a lot of lucrim, but that actually works in our favor. We're dangerous enough that nobody is going to bother us, not for what we'd be worth to them. I mean, don't carry anything too valuable through here, but you'll be fine."

Trying to settle into that mindset, Rick pretended to ignore the others as they walked through the dingy streets. "Nobody recognizes you from the fights?"

"Nah, man, I haven't been fighting long enough for anyone to have a clue I exist. You've gotta understand, way more people try out the fights than stick around. Either they survive and get the money they need, or they get seriously injured, or they just realize they aren't as strong as they thought they were and run off."

"Huh. Does that mean that most of the people in the lowest tiers aren't very experienced?"

"You got it. Seriously, man, you'll be fine."

They finally left the street, entering what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were several men and women loitering around the entrance who looked dangerous, but when Henry nodded to them, they just nodded back. Inside... it turned out to be an abandoned warehouse.

Henry chuckled at his expression. "The arena is underneath. This way."

Several more guards emerged from the shadows, this time getting in their way. Henry nudged Rick to step forward, so he cleared his throat and didn't back down. "I'm... here to sign up for the fights."

"Fine." A huge man in a biker's jacket gestured for them to follow. "We'll take you to Alger."

They headed to what appeared to be a random dusty spot in the warehouse, but their guide stepped onto a piece of metal and passed lucrim to it. The floor began to move, the apparent dust remaining fixed in place. Fake dust. They were a bit too serious about security, given that these fights were supposed to be quasi-legal.

The secret entrance led to a narrow set of stairs lit by only a single flickering light bulb. As they left the sky entirely behind Rick felt tenser, but he saw that Henry was still taking everything in stride and told himself that this was what he needed to do.

Once they left the stairs, they entered a surprisingly nice room. Despite being in a hidden underground location, it had a carpet and several old but comfortable-looking couches. Unlike the flickering light bulb from before, the entire room was lit with soft lights that gave the place a pleasant look. Though the biker nodded for them to sit, they didn't get a chance before a man walked in through another door.

"Do we have another volunteer? Just in time!" The new arrival wore a dark purple suit and a red hat, just on the line between stylish and absurd. He entered smiling, but when he saw them his expression flattened. "Hmm, this one looks a bit desperate. Too many like that these days."

Apparently this was the "Alger" he was supposed to meet? Henry had mentioned that the owner handled a surprising amount of business personally, so this must be him. Wanting to make a good impression, Rick nodded politely. "Good evening, sir. I was hoping to-"

"Get him signed up." Alger ignored him entirely and waved at the biker. "Hurry with it. I want to get two melees in early."

As the man left, Rick watched him carefully. The most troubling thing was that he seemed to have no lucrima at all, which would have meant he was dead. Eventually he realized that Alger simply had the ability to suppress his aura beyond anyone he'd ever met before. A strange man and a strange meeting. Rick looked to Henry, who shrugged.

"Alger is the owner, and he's weird. He forms opinions about people really quickly. Didn't seem to like you, but that's just as well."

"Enough talking." The biker gestured for them to follow through another door. "Let's get you signed up."

They entered another comfortable room, this one with a desk and several sheets of paper. The form was extremely simple, however, just giving his name, lucrim generation rate, and desired types of matches. Except the bottom section for matches was already filled in.

"New scrubs have to start with the general melees," the biker explained. "That's even below the bottom tier. To get into fights proper, you've gotta buy in."

"Buy in?" Rick stopped signing his name and looked up skeptically. Risking a few injuries was one thing, but if he needed to bet money, or worse, lucrim...

"Nah, not like that. With points." The biker didn't seem inclined to say more, so Henry sat down on the desk beside him and explained.

"The Underground has a points system to group fighters into different brackets. You'll still usually be against people with similar lucrim generation, it's just a question of if you're important. You can't get into any of the more lucrative matches until you've earned points in the general melees."

That wasn't so different than he'd been expecting, then. Rick finished filling out the form, which the biker only glanced at briefly before nodding. "Alright, let's go. You fighting too?"

Henry shook his head. "Nah, I don't have a brawl tonight and I wouldn't be fighting against you anyway. Knock em dead, Rick."

"It's just a phrase, but..." The biker gave Rick a hard look, then turned to go. "Don't actually knock anyone dead. Accidents happen, but they cause problems. You hurt anybody too bad in a normal match, you'll be docked points. Just focus on keeping yourself standing for the first few matches."

With that, he was shuffled out through another door. Rick had expected some more time to talk to Henry, find out what he could expect for his first fight, but he was already out of time. As he was pushed onward into a less pleasant room with chain link fences on either side, he hoped he wouldn't regret this decision.

After the surprisingly pleasant back rooms, the main arena was more like what he expected. It was a massive room lit only by harsh white lights suspended overhead. A large part of the filthy floor was fenced off entirely, with barbed wire overhead. Outside the fences there were cheap bleachers on all sides except for the entrance paths.

His eyes were first drawn to all the people already in the ring. Plenty of suspicious-looking types and several who were clearly suffering from withdrawal. Rick winced as he saw how many of them had generation rates of 20,000 lucrim or more. If this turned into a brawl, it could be ugly.

But since the match hadn't started yet, he made sure to check the stands as well. Right now there were only a few people watching, including Henry. He assumed that other matches would be better attended. Just before he looked back down, he saw that Alger was present as well, though he sat with a bored expression, barely seeming to look at the arena at all.

They all waited in the center awkwardly, not talking to one another. Rick just focused on breathing evenly, gathering his strength internally. He could do this, though it would be wise to immediately get his back to one of the fences and avoid getting involved in the main melee.

"Is that everyone?" Alger finally looked up, though his expression suggested that he didn't hope for much. "Alright, then... fight!"

He snapped his fingers, somehow producing a ringing sound. A few of the tougher-looking fighters immediately launched themselves at the people nearest them and suddenly the arena became an ugly brawl.

Rick started to back up, only to have an old man throw himself at him with a knife. They were allowed weapons in this match? Desperately reacting on instinct, he dodged the knife, grabbed the man's arm, and threw him to the floor.

Considering the man's age and feeble frame, he crashed down and didn't rise. Rick felt a bit guilty even though he'd been attacked with a knife, but he didn't have time for guilt, because a much more muscular man was charging at his back. He whirled, starting with a testing jab to the face.

His blow connected. Rick was almost as surprised as the other fighter, but recovered faster and hit him with an elbow to the side of the head, knocking him to the floor.

What startled him so much was that his opponent had nearly 20,000 lucrim. Yet it was completely disorganized, even before taking the blow to the head. Rick realized that his opponent was just some young gangster looking for a fight, not someone who had trained properly. He'd probably just earned his lucrim at work, not solidified it via training.

Though he tried not to get overconfident, Rick couldn't help but begin to move more surely. Opponents came at him from different angles, never in an organized formation, and so he took them down one at a time. They weren't warriors, just desperate for money or too naive to know their own limits.

One man in a cut-off leather jacket obviously knew what he was doing, but Rick had no intention of playing fairly. He slammed an elbow into the back of the man's head, knocking him forward. Since his lucrima was actually organized, the man only stumbled a bit before whirling on him, fists flying.

Rick backed away, deflecting or dodging the blows. This opponent obviously had experience and he was no slouch, so it took him a while to find an opening. Eventually his opponent overextended his leg, so Rick lashed out, kicking him in the shin, then slammed an elbow into his chest.

Except the man caught the blow. Though Rick was surprised, he didn't hesitate for a moment and headbutted the other man directly in the face.

That finally dropped him. Rick took a step back, breathing heavily and looking for more contestants. Too late he felt someone jump onto his back, trying to stab with a rusty knife, but Rick elbowed him in the throat before he could connect. The man dropped and Rick automatically turned to kick him in the side and make sure he stayed down.

Now he was the only one left standing. Though Rick should have been happy, he found himself considering his own performance. He'd been sparring for a long time, but he hadn't expected it would translate into a brawl like this. Since all his martial arts focused on discipline, he had expected it to be difficult to harm other human beings, but it had come surprisingly easily to him. Was that normal, or did it say something about him?

"Oh, bravo! Bravo!" Alger stood up, clapping. His face had completely transformed from the boredom earlier, instead overflowing with cheerfulness. "Well done, lad! I didn't think you had the spirit of a fighter, but I see I was wrong! One point for participating, one for making it through, and one for being the last person standing!"

"Uh..." Rick looked around for other officials, but there was no one. "Do I need to record my points somewhere?"

"Never fear, that's all handled by computers these days. Someone really must have you download the program for it. You can't get it in the app store, you'll understand." Alger flowed down the bleachers to the edge of the fence, watching him with bright eyes. "I must say, lad, I think I like you. In return for showing me such spirit, how about I give you a little gift, hmm?"

Rick had no idea how to take that, so his gaze wandered to Henry. To his surprise, his coworker made a hasty cutting sign across his neck, but when Rick turned back, it was already too late. Alger fixed him with a beaming smile, a perfect picture of contentment and satisfaction.

"Normally you would have to wait until the next introductory melee, but I'll waive the rules in your case. Oh, this is exciting... you get a chance to earn more points right now! Send everybody in!"

He opened his mouth to object, but it didn't matter. Staff rushed into the arena, dragging out the fallen fighters. More importantly, they brought with them new fighters, and these were not desperate novices off the streets.

All of them had lucrim generation rates between 15,000 and 30,000, but that wasn't the worst of it. Every single one of them had hardened their lucrim into combat cores and they clearly had experience fighting. There was another biker, a young woman carrying a spiked club, an old man in combat leathers, a man who had to be over seven feet tall and 300 pounds of muscle... there was a lot of diversity, but they all looked like they had been through multiple melees.

"I do hope you enjoy the match!" Alger gave him another bright smile, then sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and laced his fingers over his knee. "Oh, this will be such fun. Fight!"

He snapped his fingers, the room rang with another clear tone, and then everyone attacked at once.