Sages of the Underpass

by Aaron Michael Ritchey

  “You’re here for your percentage, Barton,” Danette said. “As is Andrew. Well, that and the fringe benefits.”

  That stung a bit. So something had gone on between them. Too bad he couldn’t remember. He quieted the fear. They were winning. His agent was leading the charge.

  “No need to get nasty.” Barton’s smug smile was making a much-needed presence on his face. “So, you’ll concede, we’ll announce it, Marjory and Henry can take a victory lap before Andrew’s fight. It’s settled.”

  “One condition,” Danette repeated.

  Niko was silent. Yet, unlike Matthew Gregory, his presence filled the room. Who was this kid? Andrew felt himself awed a bit. At twenty-three, he wouldn’t have had that presence. Maybe it was just because he was young. The young couldn’t see past their own dreams of themselves. That came with experience, because dreams die in the harsh light of reality.

  And Andrew was pretty sure that any traditional contracts were never going to make their way to Niko Black or any of the Sages. Barton was going to go on the warpath.

  It was confirmed by what he said next. “No, Danette, there are no conditions. You either concede, or Sherri disqualifies you. I like your solution. Let’s go with it. If you fight me, I’ll be on the phone tonight, making sure justice is done for you and your Sages.” That last word came out covered in sneer.

  “Fight you?” Danette asked. “Don’t you mean us? Matthew, you are president of the BCBA, right?”

  The tall man stuttered. “Yes, but I agree with Barton and Andrew. We have to have some rules, or this might as well be an Underworld fight.”

  “To the death next time?” Danette asked, laughing. “Unconnected matches? That’ll pull in the crowds, which means more money, which is what this is about in the end.”

  “Let’s hear your one condition.” Barton leaned in.

  “At Fright Night, Andrew fights one of the Sages, in an Unum, one on one.” Danette let that sink in.

  Barton laughed. Andrew did as well. Matthew stood, in disbelief. The Arena Master was forgotten for the moment.

  “It’d be an easy win.” From Niko.

  Was that the first words the kid had said? Maybe. Did he really believe that? Probably not. Then again, he was a self-satisfied idiot.

  The Arena Master crinkled her water bottle. She was staying because it would be impolite to leave, though Andrew knew her input was over.

  What Danette suggested was laughable. “I’m going to fight LJ Crown at Fright Night,” Andrew said. “That’s a big event. Why would I want to fight one of you nobodies?”

  Barton though, had stopped laughing. His face turned thoughtful. “An underdog. I can see the story now—the Sages conceded, but we wanted to give them another chance to prove themselves.” His eyes shifted to Andrew. “LJ Crown was never going to take the deal. He’s the point man on the Vannix House full Zodiac. From all accounts, he’s holding back to save his strength for the Grand Tournament.”

  Andrew wasn’t about to quibble in front of these people. His agent had the inside scoop. Okay, no LJ Crown. It was a blow. But surely, Andrew could find someone in his league to face. He’d tear any of the Sages apart.

  Barton took out his phone and glanced down. “We have nearly five hundred thousand views of this afternoon’s match. Lots of comments, traditional Artists versus the Unrepresented. Lots of talk about Niko Black and how he saved the fight. We all know that’s not true. It was Evelyn Beast, working with the Peacemaker. Interesting. I see a whole thread on disqualifying the Sages due to the Beast’s ill-advised attack.”

  “Nothing on Pax’s Discordant Study, right?” Danette asked. “Of course there isn’t. The single Battle Sign prejudice helps the corporations, not the Artists, and not the fans. We’re going to change that.”

  That Barton ignored. It was all just talk. He was looking at his phone, his thoughts going a mile a minute.

  Andrew felt the whole room shifting. “Barton, you can’t be serious. What would I gain?”

  “An easy win. But not too easy.” The agent nodded at Danette. “You’re going to fight Andrew. If you go up against him, can you give me a good fight? If you go down ten seconds after it starts, this whole thing would become a shit show. You’re all about the fans. You know what they want.”

  “I do,” Danette said. “Andrew can take it easy on the one he fights. Make it look like we have a chance, give us and all the Unrepresented hope, like we can make it. Then? In the second round, near the end, he ends it. Or maybe even right away in the third so we can really milk it.”

  “You don’t want to fight me, Danette?” Andrew didn’t like her reticence. “This could be the pinnacle of your career.”

  “We’ll talk about it.” The old woman smiled, that big smile that he hated. Her eyes were on him now. “Heaven knows, I have my own reasons to put you on your ass. I’d like the poetic justice of it. But unlike you assholes, we talk about things. We’re equals. Regardless who fights, I want to know we have a deal.”

  “Sure,” Barton said.

  “I haven’t said yes, yet, dammit.” Andrew realized how petulant he sounded.

  Sherri the Arena Master sighed. “So, this is what you want the Arts to be, Barton. Backroom deals, where the rules can be debated, then adjusted, then thrown out if the money and the number of views are right.”

  She pushed her bottle into Matthew Gregory’s hand. “This is me, resigning. I’ll not be doing another BCBA match. I haven’t decided yet about making calls of my own, concerning the ethics of your operation and these deals.”

  She marched out of the room.

  All eyes fell on Andrew.

  There was only one thing he could say. “Barton and I will talk. I haven’t agreed. I might not. The fact is, I can win on my own. Stay for the match tonight. You’ll see.” He stepped forward. He was as tall as Danette. The two were eye to eye.

  “I’ve seen you fight before,” Danette said. “I’ve seen most of, if not all, your moves. You haven’t seen mine.” She held his gaze.

  Andrew wanted to hit her.

  Then she turned to Barton. “Do we have a deal?” she asked.

  “You and Niko stay. Matthew will make the announcement. Andrew will fight one of you on Fright Night.” The agent reached out a hand. “Deal?”

  Danette shook hands.

  Andrew left them, going through the doors, shaking with rage. Yes, he’d get his money from the deal Barton had made with him. That didn’t mean much in the end.

  Barton had all the power. The Arena Master knew that. And now, Andrew did too.

  The Hospital

  NIKO WALKED WITH DANETTE through the Bay Central Medical Center, on their way to check on Pax. Niko was tired, terribly so, and he still had to get back to Apricot. He’d stowed his wet Artist robes in his backpack, and wore his jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweater.

  Danette’s speech to the stadium had been full of emotion. She’d worked the crowd, pausing, getting choked up and saying that the victory wasn’t worth the price they’d paid for it. However, she wasn’t exactly clear on whose injury made her more nervous. You could take it that they were as worried about Pax as they were about Timothy. Even the hardcore traditionalists of the BCBA clapped for her. And her fans understood.

  Danette had reiterated what the Arena Master had said—the BCBA was an exhibition match. So, in the end, it didn’t help them qualify for any kind of position in the LBA. End of story. She brought up the traditional versus the Unrepresented issue with a smile, saying, “Who really won? Just keep watching. Time will tell. In a year, you’ll see who is still fighting and winning. And who isn’t.”

  That was for her fans, and they lapped it up. And unexpectedly, the crowd began to chant Niko Black.

  Quick hugs with Teddy and Bonnie, and then Niko and Danette hurried to the hospital.

  In the hall, they asked if they could see Pax, but the nurse said he was still under evaluation. That left them in the waiting room.

  Niko wasn’t s
ure what he was feeling. On the one hand, they’d won, they knew it, and so did most of the people in that stadium. Sure, officially, they conceded the victory. Big deal. Danette had figured out a way to get something huge for the conciliatory gesture.

  What troubled him more was the backroom dealing with Barton and Andrew. He’d kept quiet, watching. Over and over again, he had to let go of his anger, his shock, and how sad it all was. For one, Barton basically threatened the Arena Master. And then watching him use that same power over Andrew J. Coffey was sickening. Lastly, Danette and Andrew knew each other, and from all accounts, Andrew had a bit of a reputation with certain women. Had Danette been one?

  The waiting room had couches, toys for kids, old magazines, and not a lot of people. Through the windows, the sky was graying as the fog crept in.

  “Where do you think Evelyn went?” Niko asked.

  The minute he did, she came walking down the hall, hand on Pax’s back. He was walking, but his face was gray. And he was limping. Both were still in their Artist robes.

  Niko and Danette were on their feet. Pax limped over, hugged Danette, and then shook Niko’s hand. He didn’t say another word but sat down in a chair. He rested his arms on his knees, head low. Again, no jokes. No quips. Not even the whisper of a quip.

  Evelyn was pale. She raised her sleeve and wiped at her eyes.

  They sat there, in silence.

  “I can take Pax home,” Danette said. “I brought my car.”

  “Why...” Pax wheezed. He grimaced.

  “Why did you say we lost?” Evelyn asked. “Was it what I did to Timothy? They released him. He’s going to be okay. Actually, he’s doing better than Pax, here.”

  Pax grunted, but didn’t say more.

  “It wasn’t.” Danette’s jaw muscles tightened. “Barton and Andrew Coffey were pushing for us to be disqualified.” She told them the whole story, including the agreement that one of the Sages would fight Coffey at Fright Night.

  Pax chuckled, then groaned, or was that moaned? He was in pain, weak, spent.

  “How is Pax?” Niko asked. He held his breath.

  Evelyn tried to talk, but her voice came out cracked. She tried not to let the tears fall. She failed. She drew a sleeve across her face. “His core is damaged. And it might be permanent. We’ll have to see. He’ll have to go see an apothecary. It’s not... it’s not good.”

  Pax lifted his head. “Worth it.” He gave Niko a savage grin. Absolutely ferocious. Then he had to drop his head.

  “We can’t keep you,” Danette said. “Pax needs rest. Can we take him to his family?”

  Evelyn answered, struggling to speak. “His family live in Puget City. I was going to stay with him, at least for tonight. Someone is going to come down and take over. Maybe his brother. Or his sister.”

  “Keep... in... your own bed, Evelyn.” Pax was joking. It was a good sign.

  However, Niko didn’t like how weak Pax was. Or how wounded Evelyn seemed.

  She swallowed several times. Her voice was weak and feathery. “I can’t fight any more. I could’ve killed Timothy. I thought he was tougher than he was. I thought he had to be tougher. He was a real Battle Artist.”

  “No,” Danette cut in. “We’re better. Don’t you see that? You went through them, these quote unquote real Battle Artists. You won. Evelyn, it was an accident. You’ll get to the level where there’s not this petty BS, and you’ll fight Artists that can take a punch.”

  “I’m done.” Evelyn raised her chin. “I’m done, Danette. I was never in this for a career. I just wanted...”

  They waited for her to finish. Niko hated seeing her so torn up. Accidents happened in the Arena. He’d seen near death. He’d seen Artists almost paralyzed before. And there had been reports of deaths, especially in the Unconnected underground fights, which were illegal and just a bad idea. With all the cons around, you didn’t need to stoop that low. Niko had heard of rings in Indonesia where the pots were a million dollars. If you managed to walk away.

  What did Evelyn want? She trained hard, cycled harder, and yes, she had some famous mother Artist, and maybe that was it.

  Evelyn closed her eyes. Tears leaked down her cheeks.

  “You wanted to be the best Artist you could be.” Danette finished it for her. “You can’t do that alone. And you can’t do that without fighting.”

  Evelyn grimaced like she’d been hit.

  Danette didn’t let up. “This is just another thing for you to surrender. Can you let this go, Evelyn? Can you let it go to be the best you can be?”

  Niko could’ve quoted The Pranad. The Artist must surrender to their Art, at its deepest level, no matter the nature of the Art.

  But knowing Evelyn, she’d be thinking about that. He’d walked away. He knew what it meant, and how it felt.

  Evelyn stood and reached out a hand for Pax, who took it. “I have to go. I won’t call, Danette. Don’t call me.”

  Niko rose, as did Danette. They helped Pax get into a wheelchair and waited with him while Evelyn pulled around in her car. The big guy was quiet, even as he got in, and Evelyn drove him off.

  Night had fallen, and the lights of the stadium were on. Andrew would be fighting.

  Niko thought about going over and seeing the match.

  Danette wrapped her arms around herself. “Bay City, always so cold. Let’s go back into the waiting room. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Inside, they returned to the couch. Both sat like Pax had, leaning forward, arms on their legs. Until Danette turned her body to face him. “You should fight Andrew J. Coffey at Fright Night.”

  “What?” Niko wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

  Danette’s words came out as hard as iron. “Evelyn isn’t going to come back, not anytime soon. Pax might be crippled. We won’t know, and it’s going to take him some time to heal. You are a rising star. This is another shot to really improve your career. You should take it.”

  “So we’re the last two Sages left?” Niko asked.

  “Yes.” Danette wasn’t smiling. A darkness drifted behind her eyes. It was like her glow had gone out, and it had been replaced with something harder for him to understand.

  Niko wasn’t going to answer right away. This was a side of Danette he hadn’t expected. And the deal she’d made with Barton? It seemed out of the blue.

  He finally spoke because Danette was waiting on him. “We don’t need to decide this tonight.”

  “Why shouldn’t it be you?” she asked.

  “Why aren’t you more upset about losing two of our members? Our best member. Evelyn won that fight tonight. If she hadn’t lost her focus after Timothy went down, Henry wouldn’t have hit her with that fireball.” Niko blew out a breath.

  “You won the fight, Niko. It was you. And Barton said you’re trending. This is the time for you to shine.”

  “What about Evelyn and Pax?” He failed to keep his voice down. How could she be so unfeeling?

  Color rose up her chest. When she talked, her voice wavered. “This isn’t the first group of Sages I’ve lost. It won’t be the last. Most people can’t surrender to the Arts. They can’t sacrifice themselves for it. I gave up... I was... my ex-husband. I gave up everything. Pax did as well tonight. Evelyn can’t it seems.” The more she talked, the more Danette curled herself up on the couch, arms hugging her chest, her legs folded under her, sweat forming a line on her forehead.

  Niko wanted to know more of her past. And yet, that wasn’t the topic of conversation.

  Danette’s eyes were relentless on him. “You gave up the Premiers. You’ve sacrificed time, and sleep, and your family. You know, Niko, you know what it takes.”

  He did. Or thought he did. The self-discipline could be crushing. He thought of the painful tincture he’d cycled, morning after morning, for months. All for the dream, a wonderful, terrible, powerful thing.

  “Why me?” he asked. “Why not you?”

  She grunted in frustration. “For one, I can’t think st
raight around Andrew Coffey. For a variety of reasons. I don’t want to get into that right now. More importantly? He can’t think straight around you.”

  She inhaled and let go of some of her anger, and that darkness left her a bit. Only a bit. “Niko, I’ve spent five years getting a following down south, driving down there. I had to go the slow way, fight by fight, and I know, you could quote The Pranad at me. Don’t. You have talent. That will only get you so far. Your work ethic is more important in the long run. Yet, again, that will only take you so far.”

  She paused. Niko let her. He still wasn’t understanding.

  Danette gazed outside, determination in her eyes. “The Arts aren’t for people who have talent. It’s not for people who want it for fame, money, glory. The Arts might get you laid, but they won’t promise you happiness and marriage and happily ever after. The Arts, in the end, are for people who can’t do much else. The Arts are for fighters. The sacrifices are unfair. I wish they weren’t. I wish we could all win. But very few will. The lucky, maybe. At the very top, it takes dedication, it takes a certain amount of talent and technique, but at the very top are the ones chosen, by whatever reason, by destiny. It’s unknowable. That makes it hard. You can do everything right and still not make it.”

  Niko let her go. She was walking around the issue, but he felt the truth in what she said.

  She returned her eyes to his face. “You can do in six weeks what it took me five years to do. Yes, I might be able to double my fan base, but you could get ten times that many fans. I’m willing to sacrifice this for you. I’m willing to surrender. This is a gift. Will you accept it?”

  The look in her brown eyes, it reminded him of his mother. Mamo would break her back working the business, and she did it, not so much out of love, but out of duty. It was another kind of surrender.

  He couldn’t answer. What she was giving him was invaluable.

  She saw it. “No one helped me. I swore that if I could ever help someone, I would. You want this, Niko. What would Barton say from his book? You have the warrior’s fire.”