Lynn in particular enjoyed Lucas’s final solution for Mohammed Nejem, Amara’s Father. “I wonder what he thought would be accomplished by this fight. He knows John won’t be the only one he has to contend with. His demands for a challenge smack of stupidity so deep as to be laughable. I’m thinking there must be more to this – a diversion maybe.”
“Case? You take sniping duties,” Clint said. “Lynn’s right. Nejem would know we’d all be at the fight in anticipation. I’ll stay at the house with Dannie, Amara, and Clint Jr. Lynn needs to be at the fight. Achmed? I want video of Lynn stirring the Farrakhan dupes into a rage.”
“Will do,” Jafar agreed.
“I’ll handle the sniping,” Casey added. “I should have been spelling Lucas in the nest anyway. Do you want the minions to back you at the house, Clint?”
“Did you just insult me, Case?”
Hilarity ensued.
*
Oh yeah! I smelled the perfume of desperation, excitement, and fear. When politicos and rich celebrity types mix with gamblers, street goons, and mobsters, they create an ambrosia of anticipation which permeates the cage battleground. UFC fights in the spotlight of giant video screens, howling thousands, and filtered air conditioning acted as a tame entertaining background; but this sheet-metal warehouse surrounding still awakened my origins with a splash of violence unattainable anywhere else. I was home.
Our entry into the fight night building went without incident. Although a large crowd filled the upgraded cage facility, security from Earl and ‘Rique, along with Alexi’s force, provided enough presence to keep interactions at a quiet drone of gambling exchanges and fight talk. Jack Korlos, Alexi’s right hand man now, led my corner crew to the cage with my Monsters in the background, assessing the crowd. Out of nowhere, a phalanx of bowtied dupes blocked our way to the cage with some weirdo in front, featuring some inner rage he must have been whipping into life on the sidelines. He spiked a fist at me, I imagine as a gesture. Unfortunately for him, Jess planted the idiot with a right that probably broke his jaw.
Jack Korlos stepped out right away. “Don’t know what you assholes have in mind, but it won’t work. Get out of the way or the crew with John Harding will make this your last night on earth.”
Devon Constantine waited three seconds before wading into the small mob, throwing posers to the side as if they were bowling pins with forearm blows and elbows to maim and kill. “Back the fuck off. We’re the non-lethal warning. The people following take lives. What the hell are you posers doing blocking our way?”
“We…we’re showing solidarity with Reverend Knowly,” one of the posers said, holding his arm where one of Dev’s elbows probably fractured a bone. “Allahu Akbar! We-”
Lucas streaked forward and smashed the speaker’s face in, propelling him to his back out cold. “Anyone else with a catchphrase best keep it to themselves. When I hear that particular one I get violent. Get the hell out of the way pussies!”
That was the end of an entertaining distraction. The small mob, already in fearful disarray, moved back with my Monsters searching visually for hands reaching, or out of sight. Lynn in particular wanted to arrange some pre-fight entertainment. Any Knowly goon who didn’t move back far enough in Lynn’s perspective received a bitch slap to increase the spacing. One recipient reached to grab her blouse. She cut him in a downward slash nearly impossible to follow. He gripped his wrist in horror, fleeing the building. I didn’t get involved. My Monsters lived for this stuff. In a moment more I stepped into the cage with my corner crew, anticipation building with every step. I smiled across at my opponent, who had been following my progress from the entrance. Knowly stupidly thought the usual intimidation tactics would chill my confederates. He knew better now. Knowly smashed his gloved hands together.
Korlos checked his watch a few moments later. He signaled us to the cage center. Knowly and I waited for Jack’s usual pat-down for unseen weapons or chemicals on gloves. Jack had added on his own an inspection for chemicals after Marko Hristov, The Assassin, tried to blind me in the cage. I killed him, but Jack never forgot the added check now. Knowly endured the inspection without looking away from my face. I smiled. I never did get into the gnarly stares of death. Time enough for intimidation when the blows start landing. Jack recited his pre-fight warnings and rules.
“That’s it, gentlemen. I expect you two will at some point put me in a position to do a final calling of the fight. Don’t force me to use my sap. No one dies in the cage tonight. Am I clear, John?”
“Yeah, Jack.” I tried to show some outrage at being singled out for my prior transgressions but I simply shrugged in compliance. Knowly apparently didn’t know about that part of my cage past. His features showed it.