by Lan Chan
With Daisy’s assistance, Naveen was now sitting up. “He can’t,” she said to me as though I didn’t already know that. Even if he hadn’t been knocked out, he would be if they went another round.
“This is insane,” I repeated. “Why don’t we just forfeit and go home? You’re not going to be any good to your family if you get permanently injured.”
“What’s it going to be, contestants?” Jacko asked. In my periphery, I saw the Big Guy nod. Conveniently, his knife was nowhere to be seen. “Well?” Jacko directed towards us. In the reflection of his sunglasses, I was scowling.
“This is a joke,” I said. “There’s no way he’s going to be able to fight again.”
That’s when Jacko smiled. “Well, the way I see it, we have two choices: either he forfeits, or someone substitutes and fights in his place.”
This was an even better option to the crowd. They roared their approval. In the midst of their elation, their thoughts lifted from their minds as easily as radio waves. I caught the edge of some of them. If I had time, I’d pinpoint the sicko hoping that Daisy might have to take her Dad’s place and put them out of their misery.
“I’ll fight,” Naveen said. There was no need to peer at Daisy’s face because she was so distressed her shields were completely down. In her mind, I saw the forgone conclusion. She expected her Dad to die tonight. She expected to have to continue stealing even though it wouldn’t matter because they were already late on rent. She didn’t have much hope for her mum or her baby brother or sister without her dad.
It wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. It didn’t take much for someone to get caught in the trap of the Slums. Sooner or later, one of the brothel madams would find her. There was just no way I could let that happen. If Mum was here, she would hang her head in shame. “I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll fight for him.”
Half of the crowd jeered. The other half clapped and stamped their feet.
“Excellent,” Jacko said. “Now we’re going to have some fun.”
9
“You can’t,” Naveen gasped. The two guards lifted him up and shoved him forward. Daisy caught him under the arm as he slumped back down.
“I don’t have a choice,” I said.
“They’ll hurt you.” He gripped my arm and wouldn’t allow Daisy to take him away. “These men, they don’t care about hurting women.”
“I know the type,” I said. “Just concentrate on not passing out.”
A nod signalled to Daisy to take her dad away. In my mind, I registered her fear for me. But there was also something else lurking in there. She wasn’t stupid. Her memory of my fight with her attackers was still fresh.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee said, stepping back into the ring. “Put your hands together for our new contestant. Do you have a name, little girl?” He pushed the microphone in front of my face while I braided my hair and pinned it back. Someone should tell him his handlebar moustache did nothing to downplay his buck teeth.
Was it against the rules to knock out the emcee? The crowd waited expectantly for me to answer. For a moment, I considered giving them my real name like most of the other contestants had. But unlike them, I had something at stake. If Dad or Gabe caught wind of me being here, that was the end of me ever being allowed outside on my own. So there was no choice but to choose a name. Once I’d settled on the decision, it came to me almost instantly.
“Raven,” I said.
Code name: Raven. That was the only thing written on my mum’s dog tag from the years she’d spent as an agent in the Scottish Esper Containment Agency. I remember playing with the tag as a child. As I got older, my parents pretended she was never part of Scotland’s answer to the Psi-Ops. And that the reason she needed to learn resistance to telepathy wasn’t because if she didn’t, they’d blow her brains out without a second thought.
“Let’s get to it then,” the emcee said. “First one to knock out their opponent moves through to the next round.”
The bell sounded. The emcee moved to the edges of the ring before disappearing through the rope. Unlike in the League, the referee was also off-ring. Not that there was much use for him considering they allowed weapons and generally didn’t even care what was going on. The Big Guy circled around me warily. He wasn’t as stupid as he looked. If I didn’t think I had a relatively good chance of winning, there was no way I would have agreed to do this. Self-preservation might not be my ultimate goal, but it was still a goal nonetheless. I wasn’t going to just throw myself to the sharks.
It surprised me when the probe touched the edge of my shield. The Big Guy moved behind my back. Normally, with any other opponent, I would have kept him in my eyeline. They already knew I was an esper. There was no point in pretending that I couldn’t trace him wherever he went.
The other mind tried to scout the thoughts I let past my shield. As an alpha, I had total control over what I shared. But displaying my designation wasn’t something I was in the habit of doing. If there was one thing my mum tried to ram down my throat, it was that knowledge was power.
So I allowed the probe past the first few layers of my shields. Just enough so that the other mind could sense my physiological responses. I let them read a few of the more mundane thoughts plaguing me at the moment. Like my sudden need to pee. Or how I was going to get home if this competition dragged on later than the train schedule ran.
Big Guy reappeared on my other side. The crowd was growing impatient. My jaw set as I remembered why I hated spectator fighting so much. People became animals. Both in and out of the ring. There was nothing that incensed me more than a crowd jeering while I fought for my life. More often than not, I was angrier at the people watching than at my opponent. It occurred to me then that almost everyone I beat today would be like Naveen and Daisy. Illegals trying to make a better life for themselves. And who was I? Just a privileged kid with her own agenda.
My self-flagellation didn’t last long. The other mind struck at the same time that Big Guy charged. If I hadn’t known they were working together from the start, I might have lost my footing. As soon as I felt the itch in the back of my neck my shields went up. The psychic blow bounced off like water on a duck’s back. If I wanted to, I could return the favour. It would be easy enough to pinpoint the esper by their thought signature. My sympathy for Big Guy disintegrated when the other mind retreated. If that was how he was going to win this game, then so be it.
The clumsiness he showed with Naveen wasn’t a mistake. He took several jabs at me when he was in range. It was an issue because he was a foot taller. The next time his right arm came in for another jab, I blocked it and rushed forward, closing the distance between us. I had seconds to strike out before he could swing again. One good hit was all I needed. When does the universe ever give you what you need?
He blocked my blow. I kept coming, changing tactics. Gabe called me relentless as though it was a bad thing. Maybe it was when it came to my incessant questions about Mum. In the ring, it was my one saving grace.
I pushed him back against the structural pole on the ring. We grappled with each other. He struck me in the side of my ribs. I sucked in a breath, feeling my lungs constrict. This had to be done quickly if I was going to maintain any advantage. Rearing back, I surged forward and kneed him right in the gut. As he tried to inhale, I pressed my left forearm against his throat and wrapped my right arm around the back of his neck locking him in a guillotine position.
He bucked. I kicked at him whilst my arms cut off his circulation. He was big, but most of the weight didn’t appear to be muscle. Not long after, his right arm went limp and dangled down at his side. His eyes rolled back into his head and he crashed to the ring.
The referee counted to five, but Big Guy wasn’t getting up.
It’s over, I told the other mind. I’m sorry.
Why the apology, Willow? I didn’t even know. She didn’t respond. Her shock and disappointment were evident through the mental link. I didn’t bother to identify her. It w
as a good plan. They were just unlucky. The crowd didn’t expect that I’d win. They cheered nonetheless because it meant yet another contestant down. Jacko met my gaze and motioned for me to follow him.
Daisy, I called out mentally. In the stands her head snapped up. How is he?
Dazed, she thought back. But he’s okay I think. A pause. Dad wants to know if you think you can make it to the next round. Her hope was like a torch that lit a section of her mind. I swallowed as I followed Jacko past the waving crowd.
Tell him to bet on me up until the third, I thought back.
I walked past the tunnels to the dressing rooms. The anti-psi technology blurred the connection. I could force it, but it would mean using energy I wanted to conserve. As we entered, the next two contestants stalked by in the opposite direction. One was a girl not that much older than me. Her hair was braided in cornrows to keep it off her face. She stared at me with grim determination. The other was a guy with a heavy beard trimmed close to his face. His torso was bare and heavily muscled. An eagle tattoo covered most of his chest. Both of them moved exactly the way they looked: like seasoned fighters. Good thing one of them would be taking the other out in this round.
What was Naveen thinking? There was no way he could win against half of these contestants. If I’d seen who else he was up against, I wouldn’t have even bet he could get through the first round. Sure, half of them were struggling on the edges of the Slums, but the other half were hardened fighters. They were the kind of people who couldn’t care less about the money. These people wanted to work for the Shadowman. That made them dangerous.
Jacko led me back to one of the two change rooms. The door opened to reveal the remaining twenty-something contestants.
“Who’s that?” a huge black man asked.
“New contestant. A sub.” Jacko said. The ones who were clearly here to win glared at me. I tried to make myself as small as I could. That wasn’t hard. I was half the size of most of them.
“When do we get to meet him?” a woman said. She had the same hairstyle as the one I’d passed in the hallway.
Jacko turned to them. Under his scrutiny, they cowered. “Are you questioning me?” Jacko said. Suddenly everyone became interested in the floor. Some resumed the crunches they had stopped doing when we walked in.
Sitting glumly on the long bench at the left of the room were the ones like Naveen. They were here for the little money they could salvage. None of them had shown me any interest. It was very telling of their circumstances.
Jacko went to a locker against the back wall and yanked it open. From inside he handed me a blue disc the size of my palm. “It’ll flash the next time you’re up,” he said. Before he could leave, I whipped the photo of mum out from my pocket.
“Have you ever seen this woman before?” I said. “She’s my mum. She went missing almost a year ago. I have reason to believe she was last spotted here.”
He regarded the picture for a minute. Nothing registered on his weathered face. Taking a chance, I reached out to his mind. Nothing. Void. Dammit.
“Not everyone who comes in here makes it out,” Jacko said. He left me standing amongst the other contestants as he made his way back out into the stadium. I refused to give in to his negativity. My mum fought against rogue espers. There was no way she walked into this illegal bare-knuckle fighting ring and got taken down.
I was busy showing her picture to everyone in the room when the crowd outside roared. All eyes in the room focused on the lone figure that walked back into the change room. It was the man. Two beepers lit up in red against the blue. One of the men sitting with the Slums’ citizens got to his feet wearily. He wanted to be here about as much as I did. The other man was one of the seasoned fighters. No guesses who would come back.
I took the seat the Slums man vacated. The woman sitting to my right glanced over at me. “You looking for someone?”
“My mum,” I said.
“Why do you think she’s here of all places?” She reached out to take the picture. Purple bruises decorated her wrist. She hadn’t fought yet, but the left side of her face was already sporting a pretty impressive shiner. It made her otherwise delicate face look bulbous. She actually smiled when she caught me staring.
“Courtesy of my pimp.”
I swallowed before the wrong thing came out of my mouth. Was there ever a right thing to say? It wasn’t easy to form polite words. “Why does he make you fight?” I said. “Why not have you doing...other work?”
“This is the other work,” she said. My left eye twitched. It was a triumph my whole face hadn’t twisted into a grimace.
“You mean he enters you in these competitions for money?”
She nodded, not thinking anything of it. I lifted the impression of his face from the forefront of her mind. Down the other end of the row were another five women. Each one had the same hollow look about them. I could only guess what their stories were.
What are you going to do, Willow? A voice chided in my head. My inner critic sounded too similar to my mum. Are you going to beat this guy up? Then what?
As she went to hand Mum’s picture back, someone snatched it from her grasp. I looked up into the face of one of the professional fighters. A woman with a flat nose and eyes set widely apart, giving her an off-kilter stare. She was fair-skinned with a thick torso. Her blonde hair was braided close to her head. She scanned the picture. “Who’s this?”
She would have heard me asking others by now. Classic intimidation technique. It should have worked too considering her thighs were the width of my hips.
“It’s my mum,” I said. I pushed the next words out through gritted teeth. “May I please have it back?”
“You looking for your mummy, little girl?” she said. “This isn’t a day care centre. She’s probably long gone by now. Same as you’ll be.”
She flipped the picture back at me. It landed a few feet away. She stepped on it as she walked off. Before I could reach for it, the picture lifted into the air in front of me. It wafted as though dancing in the wind until it landed back in my hand. I turned to the woman beside me where I’d felt the telepathy emanate.
“TK?” I asked.
“A little bit.”
“You don’t need him,” I said. But when I looked closer, the bruising wasn’t the only thing on her arm. There were needle marks too. As creatures made of mind over matter, anything that messed with our cognitive reasoning also messed with our telepathy. Drugs weren’t a good idea at any time. For espers, it was a muzzle.
I sat back, mute. Suddenly, I really wanted to go home. The professional woman had been right: I wanted my mum. She might be certifiably insane but her presence in the world made the rest of it redundant. As long as she was the thing I most feared, everything else was secondary. There were no monsters she couldn’t contain. Without her, none of this made sense. It was too big for me. I was just a kid playing at being in control.
As I sat there staring at her picture, three more sets of contestants left. One out of each pair returned. The woman beside me was up next. She got lucky. Her opponent was another Slums contestant. No one was surprised when she returned.
Hers was the last fight of the qualifying round. Now there were only sixteen contestants left, most of whom had some fighting experience. This was going to end up being a long night.
10
After the last fight, there was a ten-minute intermission. Thinking it would be a good opportunity to check on Naveen, I tried to leave the dressing room. The guards had other ideas.
“Back inside,” the bald guy with no neck said.
“I’m going to talk to my friends.”
“Nobody leaves the dressing room until the next fight.”
“Why?”
“Because those are the rules.”
“Yeah, but why? What are you afraid I’ll do? Run away?”
When it seemed like I was going to be more trouble than I was worth, the guard rounded on me. “You got a problem with the way we
run things here?”
In fact, I did. But pointing it out to him wasn’t going to change anything. It seemed that the rumours were true. The Shadowman was a tyrant. He ran his sector through fear and intimidation.
Defeated, I trudged back to the change room. My opponents were either stretching for the next fight or sitting mute on the benches. There were only three Slums contestants left. The rest were all professionals. I would have to fight two more people to win Naveen some money. Even though the Slums woman was a TK, it was weak. Barely gamma level. She wouldn’t last long against someone who had superior physical strength. At the moment, that was everyone in this room.
If I were preparing for a proper fight, I would be studying my opponent. They’d deliberately cut that avenue off from us by not installing cameras in the change room. Aside from what we saw of our opponents in here, we were completely blindsided.
This was why I spent the time before the next siren watching the people around me. Thankfully, none of them had seen the reason why I switched places with Naveen. My EK secret was safe. I wanted to keep that card close to my chest. Most of the others weren’t so shy. Besides the TK woman, there was also one Reader whose probe glided across my mind.
I traced it back to the man who had won the fight directly after mine: the guy with the eagle tattoo on his torso. It was a lethal combination. He had both physical strength and a telepathic mind. At age four, Mum forced me to learn how to mask my own telepathic signature. I haven’t met enough EK espers to compare notes. EK and TK espers are amongst the rarest individuals because our telepathy has a physical manifestation.
This usually meant we got picked on and picked off early in our lives. I’ve always been able to roughly gauge the strength of someone else’s telepathy based on comparison to my own. When the Reader’s beta-level probe touched me, I allowed it to sync with the natural electrical currents within my body.
