The feeling was electric. Even as small as the
arena was the sound of the crowd was overwhelming.
Carson stepped into the ring and sized up his
opponent, trying not to be distracted by the crowd
around him. This was nothing like that amateur
tournament, what was coming was a real battle. His
opponent moved with a grace and control that those
poseurs couldn't dream of possessing. Carson felt that
he was a little overmatched, probably not uncommon for
a first fight, but not fatally so. There was always
opportunity for a little creativity.
The announcer stepped into the ring and glanced at
Carson. He was wearing a variation of the standard FBI
regulation business suits. Carson was amused that what
was considered inconspicuous in everyday society was
actually somewhat flashy here in the ring. His
opponent was much more average for an athlete, he was
wearing a pair of sweat pants and some double toed
slippers.
"Now, ladies and gentleman," the announcer yelled
into his microphone. "We are pleased to present the
first fight of Jacob Carson. Rarely do we have the
opportunity to view a new entrant into the world of
streetfighting." Carson commented to himself that it
might be because of the level of competition. The
announcer continued with his somewhat less than
creative introductions. "Trained by our very own
government, Jacob Carson will face off against one of
your local favorites. The Kung-Fu King himself, Johnny
Regal!"
Johnny Regal was a showboat, that much was obvious
to Carson when he first saw the man. The fact that he
was a showboat did not lessen the man's skill,
however, it did indicate the possibility for
manipulation. A gloryhound would make mistakes.
The crowd went totally wild as the lean form of
Johnny Regal soaked in the applause. Carson did his
best not to be distracted by it. The announcer left
the ring after explaining the rules, no weapons seemed
to be the only one, then the match began.
Carson's opponent came forward with a quick batch
of punches that he blocked easily. The ease of the
defense didn't alter Carson's caution, the attacks had
been tests, he wanted to know what Carson could do. He
blocked one more time and dropped into a sweeping
motion across the ground as Regal launched a
roundhouse. The kick sailed over Carson's head as his
sweep connected and dropped to the ground.
Regal took it in stride, performing something out
of a breakdancing routine. Carson was pounding by the
more experienced fighter's feet twice as he rose from
his crouch. Regal landed on his feet and moved forward
as Carson rolled to a stand.
Regal had been testing Carson, but he had gleaned
his own information from the exchange as well. When
the strike came in Carson was prepared. The fist was
diverted wide, and then the two fighters went down in
a pile, Regal on bottom.
Carson released the suplex and rolled away from
Regal before the man could send another flurry of
kicks his way. The two fighters took their feet and
each regarded the other with a little more respect.
Regal probably had something of a sore neck, and
Carson could feel a few bruises forming. They began
circling each other. About them both the crowd was
roaring approval of the first exchange. In some cases
the audience's actions were almost less restrained
than the fighter's in the ring. Security guards were
already breaking a pair of fights, and money was
rapidly changing hands as side bets were made and
antes were upped.
Carson was certain that his opponent was likewise
forming new strategies and patterns. Regal was faster
than Carson, and he suspected that the man knew a
larger variety of techniques. Carson needed him to
make the first move, off the block, Carson could act
quicker.
Unfortunately, Regal appeared to understand that as
well. He was holding off. When the attack came, Carson
intercepted the incoming hand as before. He
immediately regretted the decision as the fighter
wrapped his arm around Carson's and rolled backwards,
using gravity and his legs to throw the agent across
the ring.
Carson knew Regal was coming in with a follow up,
but he could barely more than stand up. He was still
clearing his head when Regal finally landed a punch.
Carson intercepted the next strike and drew off its
momentum to give his roundhouse a little speed. The
kick connected with Regal's head and the fighter
landed roughly on the ground, without a graceful
recovery this time.
Carson staggered backwards, as Regal lurched to his
feet. Neither fighter was feeling especially fit at
the moment. They didn't have time to catch their
breaths, somewhere in the back of their head they knew
time was running short on the round. Neither one could
remember who, if anyone, was ahead on points.
Carson recovered quicker than Regal, and he used
that to press the attack. The warriors seemed to have
switch positions. Suddenly Regal was doing all the
blocking and Carson was the attacker.
The end came within moments of the latest flurry of
attacks. Instead of blocking, as Carson was expecting,
Regal launched an attack of his own. The fist came in
under Carson's own, somewhat deflecting it away from
the other fighter. Regal's fist opened wide and his
palm clapped into Carson's chest. The fighter's hand
then folded forward with a force the knocked the Agent
back several feet.
Carson lay on the ground, by the time he was
cognizant enough to stand up, the round was declared
over. Regal did his best to gracefully limp over to
his opponent. Without the adrenaline, both were
feeling the full extent of their respective beatings.
The two fighters amicably shook hands and Carson left,
to be checked over by the arena's physcians. As he
walked out of the ring, Carson thought he noted a
shadowy figure standing near the back of a narrow
passage between the stands. There was a predatorial
air about the figure that made him uncomfortable, but
he couldn't quite place it.
"This isn't your first streetfight," Regal
commented, later in the locker room. He was dressed in
common clothes now. Then his voice changed tone to
something less sure. "Is it?"
"First streetfight, yes," Carson confirmed. "First
battle, no."
"This won't be the last time I hear your name
then," Regal commented. Regal was about five years
older than Carson, that put him in his mid thirties.
"Don't worry about this, most of us lose our first
fights. Do better research next time."
"Actually," Carson noted. "I was looking for a
third ranked arena. A good test of skill."
"Ah," Regal's respect for the man grew slightly at
Carson's admission. "Well, I wish you good luck with
your career." The man left the room jingling his keys.
Fifteen minutes later Regal stepped out of his car
into the parking lot of his apartment complex. It
didn't take long for him to realize something was
wrong. He'd been fighting the circuits since he was
eighteen, he'd been attacked before, he'd learned to
feel it coming.
"You fight well, streetfighter," the voice said.
The owner of the voice approached Regal, remaining
always in shadow.
"I've worked hard at it," Regal fell into stance.
"So let's get this over with." Regal didn't even
register his opponent's motion, but he suspected where
it was going to come from. His block did him very
little good, he felt the arm snap under the blow. He
didn't have time to respond with an attack of his own.
There was a sudden flash of light and Regal caught
sight of a dark tan face, framed in a daemonic light.
"Perhaps I should have waited a little while
longer," the figure said. "You weren't as strong as
you seemed." The moonlight glinted off of a long
knife.
Carson didn't bother to explain the small bruise on
the side of his face. He wasn't going to be around
much longer as it was, and he didn't particularly care
much what his colleagues thought. Most of them were
too stunned at the thought of Jacob Carson in the
entertainment industry. For five years now he had been
the closest thing to the urban myth of the
man-in-black, a company man through and through.
He walked through the cubicle maze seeming to pay
no attention to the people staring at him from every
direction. He had a destination in mind and that was
what he cared about. The office was small and out of
the way, most people had forgotten him by the time he
reached it.
Hardly anybody even realized that it was indeed an
office and not a broom closet. The man he was looking
for usually received reports via confederates, but
while Carson still had the excuse to be in the office,
this was no less obvious, and more available.
"Well," Hurn asked, as he entered the door. "How
was your first streetfight?"
"Educational," Carson affirmed. "I think I'll have
to stick to the lowest levels of the circuit for now.
I won't acquire much of a reputation if I lose all the
time, and a reputation is something I'll need in any
case."
"Was there any indication of Shadoloo activity?"
Hurn asked eagerly. Carson frowned inwardly, the man
had Shadoloo on the brain.
"No, no indication of Shadoloo activity," he said.
"I doubt there's more than a small percentile of
streetfighters are directly connected. Most seem to
have it in for Shadoloo, actually."
"That is what they'd have us believe," Hurn
insisted. "Remember�"
"Remember that I have resigned," Carson
interrupted. "This is my money, my company, and my
decision to freelance for you."
"Just as long as you remember who's in charge
here," he whimpered. Hurn had thought that Carson
would fall in line like most of the other agents he
spoke to.
"You don't need to worry about that," Carson smiled
slightly as he stood up and left the puny office. He
scanned the plasterboard labyrinth as he left the
small room. At least five people turned to face him as
he left the room. He noted their names and filed them
away, it would be good to know who could have seen him
leaving the room.
It wasn't much later that Carson met with the first
employee of Gen-X productions. Dr. Danielle Guadian
was just beginning to gray at her temples, she had
taken early retirement only recently. That move wasn't
as obvious as Carson's sudden choice, but it was
connected.
They sat across from each other at a small round
table in the patio of a lightly populated restaurant.
The roof of the patio only partially shielded the
light from the two diners, and the contrast made it
difficult to identify them from a distance.
The doctor was carving a slice from the small steak
in front of her.
"How was Hurn," she asked. Carson smiled, as usual
it was more of a smirk.
"I can see why they chose him as a decoy," Carson
responded. "He's a paranoid, spineless, little man."
"Well," Guadian laughed. "Don't ignore him too
much, he's supposed to at least seem competent."
"Of course, but that's what we're for, isn't it.
Now, I think I may have found another match."
"Perhaps something closer to your own level of
ability this time. Until we actually get a freelancing
job, or win a few tournaments, it would be cheaper not
to get beat into a pulp again."
"A newcomer's tournament," Carson told her. "This
should be produce a few more results than last night's
match."
The Mediterranean heat showered the audience and
the small collection of fighters that had gathered for
this tournament. The audience was mostly Greek, but
there was a small sprinkling of Americans and a few
other nationalities. That was to be expected, and he
was more interested in the fighters. The first match
was starting then, and Carson turned his attention
there.
"The first match of the tournament has been
decided. Wittaya Runrot, Thai Kickboxing," the
announcer began from a box outside the ring for once.
"And Heatwave, Western Kickboxing." Carson watched as
a large man with long hair and decked out in a heavy
metal accessaries. His opponent wore the traditional
kickboxer's costume, and had shaved his head in
imitation of the World Warrior Sagat. Carson estimated
that the fight wouldn't last long, the metal head
didn't appear to be taking his opponent seriously.
The round started and the fighters charged each
other. The metal head, launched a quick punch at his
opponent. Carson didn't believe it would cause much
damage until the metal head's arm suddenly was
surrounded by a nimbus of flame.
=====
"Caffeinated Kender? What's that, a berserk spell?" -
Tribble, Kender Warrior of the Celestial Kingdom
Signed
He of Too Many Names (Thrythlind/Thryth/Luke/Hyperbole/Pika/Pooka)
http://members.aol.com/thrythlind/snake.html
__________________________________________________
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