had he seen in me?
“Tell them,” TL prompted Mystic, “what you saw with Zandra?”
“I saw fighting. But fighting like I’ve never seen before. It was organized, but not like boxing. There was an octagon, but no cage, and no gloves. Just raw fighting. I heard different languages being spoken. There was a medium sized crowd of people sitting around the octagon.
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I’d say about fifty people. And the men, the fighters, they were very bloody. I heard the snap of a bone . . .” Mystic closed his eyes. “That’s a sound I never want to hear again.”
He took a breath and opened his eyes. “I also got the sense that this fighting is rooted in one place here in the States and has been for years. That people come from all around for this gruesome fighting where money is exchanged.”
Mystic looked across the table at Bruiser. “I also got the distinct feeling that many men have died during these fights. That it’s almost preferred for a man to perish. It’s why people bet such big money. In hopes that someone will die . . .” Mystic’s voice trailed off as he slowly shook his head.
“I don’t have anything else,” he continued a few seconds later. “But I know without a doubt in my mind that I need to be around these fights if I’m going to locate Zandra.”
“Okay, Bruiser,” David cut in. “Tell us what your thoughts are after hearing this description.”
For the first time ever, I saw Bruiser in a serious mode. Gone was her perpetual grin and silliness. She was focused as she began speaking. “The type of fighting that Mystic is describing is found more commonly overseas in less regulated countries. You can, however, find underground clubs throughout America. But death of a fighter most certainly is not part of the equation, unless, of course, an accident occurs.”
She scooted up in her seat. “But here in America there is one very exclusive, underground club where fighters get paid bonuses if they kill their competition. I’ve never been to this club, but I’ve heard all about it. The club is called Demise Chain, and it’s located in the Pacific Northwest in the little town of Teacup, Washington.”
Teacup ? What an innocent sounding city for such a horrible thing going on.
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“The worst part of this,” Bruiser continued, “is that less skilled fighters are brought over from other countries with a promise of American citizenship if they compete in Demise Chain.
Little do they know that they are the ones that will die during the match.”
“Die?” I gasped, and Bruiser nodded.
It was amazing to me how just a year and a half ago I was in my own little world, completely oblivious to this world. Since joining The Specialists I’d found out way too many disturbing things about the human race.
Bruiser nodded. “Like I said, I’ve never seen one of these fights. But the man who raised me competed in one. He barely made it out alive.” She paused for a second. “We’re talking MMA, here. Everything goes.”
“MMA?”
Mystic
asked.
Good question. I had no clue either.
“Mixed martial arts,” she answered. “It was made popular by UFC in the early nineties.
But it’s been going on a lot longer than that.”
I raised my hand. “UFC?”
“Ultimate Fighting Championship,” Bruiser answered. “You can see it on T.V. now, it’s so popular. MMA. A combination of karate, judo, Wing Chun, and whatever else, all in one fight. Striking, grappling. Basically whatever it takes to win.”
“You all should know,” TL inputted, “that Bruiser was raised and trained by one of the world’s elite fighters. She knows more about martial arts than anybody I’ve ever met, and I’ve been in this business a long time. She is, hands down, the most talented fighter I have ever seen.
Her input into this mission is imperative.”
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I glanced over at Bruiser to see her shyly look down. Her embarrasement was very out of character for her. TL’s kudos had brought a side out in her