Halak sat in his room, leaning back in the old office chair he had taken off the streets years ago. He had considered it a lucky find, but it no longer held its spring and it canted slightly to the right.
In his fingers he held a card. Tarot. It depicted a man wearing a flowing red robe and standing atop a building in the throws of some dance. The bottom of the card read The Fool. It was something his brother had given him long ago and it had no meaning, an insult more than anything. Halak flipped it over and examined the pentagram on the back. It was a simple depiction, painted with rough white lines; a five pointed star framed with a circle. Halak had eventually determined that the paint had been a bone mixture of some kind and the card was hand painted by an authentic diviner. The symbol had meant nothing to him as a child, but that had since changed. He dropped the card onto the desk and picked up his phone, flipping through the pictures he had taken of the body in Larry’s bar. The expression on the man’s face was eerie. He stared, expression lax, in a way that made Halak feel like he was looking at something. There was a knock at the door and it creaked open a moment later. Arlo stood in the doorway.
“He said nine-thirty, but don’t be late.”
“He says that every time.” Kaleb said. “And am I ever late?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t know why he thinks repeating it is going to change anything.” Kaleb stood from the chair.
“Are you taking Azu?”
“Self-proclaimed Kingpin’s like Clyde only respect muscle. Of course I’m bringing Azu.”
Two hours later Halak stepped into Clyde’s Club, a loud and bustling place on the north end of Baker’s street. He pushed past the sweaty patrons as they jeered on the fight in the center of the room. Azu followed closely behind, dwarfed by the men and women around them.
Clyde always sponsored a fight, but these weren’t the kind with rules and they were a long shot from being anything gentlemanly. The people in the cage weren’t the kind that would hit you on a good day and kill you on a bad one. Halak didn’t glance in the direction of the blood sport, instead making his way to the back where a small group sat near a bar. The most prominent of them was Clyde himself, straining the poor seat beneath him. He was plump man and stunk. Halak could almost smell it from where he stood and wasn’t eager to get any closer, only to leave sooner. He stepped up to the group.
Clyde kept his eyes on the fight and shouted with the rest of the crowd. He left Halak to wait with Azu standing next to him, looking around at the strangers and flashing light of the clutters nightclub. Someone sniffed him as they passed but Azu didn’t so much as flinch. Despite his small size, he wasn’t one to cower from others. The shouting grew suddenly louder all at once, filling the room. Clyde threw his hands into the air along with his henchmen and the women that were their dates for the night. The match had finished but Halak didn’t care to see who had won. As the cheers died, he glanced back only to see an unconscious and bloody faced man being dragged from the cage, another stumbling out behind him almost as bloody but still concious. Kaleb grabbed a chair and dragged in front of Clyde and sitting down.
“What do you want, Halak?” Clyde asked, taking a swig from something in a fat glass in front of him.
“It’s been two weeks since your deadline, Clyde.”
“My deadline?” Clyde laughed. “Your just a kid, what makes you think you can go around giving people deadlines.”
“I can. Let’s leave it at that. Did you find out what I needed you to?”
“I’ll call you when I do.”
“That’s not good enough.”
Clyde sat forward, pointing a chubby finger at Halak. “I’ll tell you what’s good enough, kid. We made a deal but you don’t make the rules. The only thing keeping me in this is money, you keep paying and I’ll keep searching.”
“The payment was a courtesy, not a necessity.” Halak said. “I prefer to be civil, Mr. Clyde, but I’m open to changing my policy.”
“Is that a threat?” Clyde asked, narrowing his eyes at Halak.
“It seemed like a pretty clear one to me.”
Clyde’s mouth hung open. He stared at Halak through the hazy smoke that wafted between them, illuminated by the pale plasma blue lights glowing over the bar nearby. Clyde pulled his lip back in a sneer.
“Get out.” He said.
“Tell me what you’ve found.”
“Get. Out.” He said, enunciating both words. Halak leaned forward as well.
“Tell. Me.”
Clyde’s eyes bulged, an unpleasant look on his already unpleasant face. He waved his hand to the side. A few seconds passed between them before he broke their gaze and turned back.
“Joey!” He shouted. A man in a suit turned away from the drink he’s been nursing, looking at Clyde. He noticed Halak for the first time, and the subtle wave Clyde was giving him. The thug set down his glass and stood, rising to a full six-foot-something of taught muscle. He looked out of place in the tailored suit he was sporting. It threatened to rip along the seems with each step he took closer.
“You want another chance?” Halak asked, not looking away from the club owner. Clyde turned back to him.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” He said. Joey drew closer, tapping a few others of formidable size as he passed. They stood with him, imposing in their full height. For most at least.
“If you do I’m giving it to you right now.”
“I’ve got muscle, Halak. That’s what makes someone like me in charge. That’s what makes it so someone like you can’t spout off empty threats and think it will get anywhere. Where’s your muscle?”
“Why do you think I brought him along?” Halak asked, nodding toward Azu who looked down from the spot on the ceiling that he had been gazing at.
“Your funny. That’s about it.” Clyde said.
“You’re stubborn. And sometimes it’s the wrong thing to be. Because you strike me as an idiot, I’ll give you that chance whether you want it or not.” Joey reached them stepped up to Halak, neck bulging with as much fury as he could muster. Halak stood from his chair, not caring to look the brute in the eyes. Joey stopped short.
“Your man fights mine in the ring.”
“Who?” Clyde asked. Azu stepped up next to him.
“You’re joking, and I’m not asking if you are. I’m telling you.”
“Yeah, but you won’t know the punchline until the fight begins.”
“Look at what he’s up against.” Clyde said, turned to Azu. “You don’t have to do this. Don’t let Halak embarrass you just to save his own pride. You can walk away.” Azu didn’t respond, he didn’t move either, neither did he try to give any kind of threatening stare like Joey hadn’t stopped doing since being called over. Clyde put his hand to his forehead and dragged it down his face, pulling his cheeks into an even more unpleasant expression and sighed.
“You couldn’t just leave. You have to make a show of it and embarrass your friend too.” Clyde shook his head. “Joey, get in the ring.” The meat-head grunted and smiled, shouldering past Azu as inconsiderately as possible. He lost his footing as he tried to shove past him and stumbled a few feet. Azu childlike smile remained as turned and followed Joey to the ring.
Halak grabbed his seat and pulled it next to Clyde, making himself comfortable, something that was more than difficult in a place like this. Still, he feigned comfort, and crossed his legs. Clyde offered him a drink but Halak put his hand up to deny it.
“It’s not for you.” Clyde said. “It’s to numb that kids pain when this is all over.” Still, Halak didn’t accept the liquor. Clyde shrugged and set the drink down on the table next to him anyway.
Joey and Azu entered the ring. Cheers filled the club again in anticipation for the next fight, but those tapers off as the audience caught site of the two contenders. At barely five feet, Azu didn’t look like much to be excited about.
Joey began making a show as soon as he entered the ring. He jumped up and down, bouncing on the balls of his feet and circling the ring. Cheers rose again in groups, recovering from there initial surprise at seeing Azu and in response to Joey’s confident summons.
Bets were being called out from the crowd. Some said Joey by name, others just simply referred to him as the tall one or the big guy. The bet takers had no question who they were referring to. One man, hoping to be clever, bet on the child, a comment which was followed by raucous laughter from his friend. It was the kind of laughter that made you want to hit someone, but Azu payed no attention. Instead, looking around at the crowd in curiosity, as if their taunts were nothing more than strange music. Clyde made tsk sounds nearby.
Joey finished his circling and turned to face Azu putting his fists up and framing his animalistic growls. The crowd grew quiet as they waited for the bell to ring. Azu smiled at Joey without any sign of malice. Halak doubted Azu even realized when he was being a good sport.
“Joey is nearly undefeated. He has been doing MMA since he was a child. He’s got two blackbelts in Jiu-Jitsu and another in Maui-Thai and he’s completed a few combat tours in Afghanistan. What’s your guy got?” Clyde asked.
“Supernatural talent.” Halak whispered, a smile tugging at his lips.
The bell sounded. Azu stepped forward and kicked, leaning back against the force of it. Joey braced in time to not have his ribs shatters. The thug was launched across the small arena and into the chain links that surrounded them. It bent with the force of his weight and momentum before throwing Joey back to the floor where he bounce slightly before falling still. An imprint was left in the fence where he had impacted. The crowd went silent.
Clyde turned slowly, eyes wide, the drink he had just began sipping dribbled down his shirt. Azu stood where he had when the fight had started, smiling absent-mindedly.
“He’s one of them.” Clyde said.
“Tell me what you know unless you want to figure out what I can do.” Halak growled. Clyde nodded, but he made it look difficult.
Gasps echoed through the room. Halak turned from Clyde, following the muttered and stunned looks of those standing around them. In the cage, Joey’s body began to move. He didn’t stand up like Halak was suspecting, but instead he shuddered in place. His body fell still again and Azu turned to Halak, his generally curious and bemused expression was replaced by something different. Surprise.
Joey shuddered again, like the ground beneath him had began to rumble. He canted left before rumbling back into place. Azu backed up a few feet and Halak stood from his chair.
All eyes were on the bodyguards shaking form as it rose from the ground as if strings had dragged him into the air like some marionette. His body was upright and his head lulled back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. His skin took on a red-white glow that shows his veins and arteries twisting throughout his body. His skull and bones, which remained dark masses underneath the skin, grew redder, deeper, hotter, until the energy burst like a solar flare from his eyes. The light filled the room and Halak turned away. A sound like a flamethrower drowned all other noise before vanishing a moment later. The room dimmed as well, falling back to the muted glow it had before which seemed closer to pitch black than it had before.
Halak turned back to the ring. Joey’s body lay on the ground, unmoving, as it had been before but Azu sat against the fence, pushing himself back and slapping at the fire that now covered half of his body, eyes wide and mouth drawn in terror.
Halak sprinted forward, shoving passed and leaping over stunned guests that stared at the cage or around them, looking for some cause of what had just happened. Halak slammed into the cage door. It rattled but didn’t open. He fumbled for the latch which remained fastened with a padlock. Bending closer, he grabbed it between his teeth and ripping it free from the latch. The door swung wide and he lunged inside, throwing himself down next to Azu. They worked together, desperately beating at the fire that licked him with every painful flick of its tongue. Eventually, the fire died, leaving tattered clothing and red and blistering skin. Halak grabbed Azu by the face and looked him in the eyes. Azu met his gaze, tears lining his and nodded. Either he would live or he was in shock. Still, the burns didn’t seem too deep and fire didn’t scar Demonic.
Halak turned and scrambled to Joey’s body, pressing his fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse he knew wasn’t there. Whatever happened it was beyond natural and most pure human’s weren’t equipped to handle that sort of thing, except Arlo. But even this…
Halak removed his fingers from Joey’s neck and fell back into a sitting position, wresting his arms on his knees and breathing between them. Noise began to flow among the patrons, unfinished sentences and mutterings that showed just how confused they all were. As his breaths began to come and go more easily, Halak raised his head to look at the body one more time.
Joey’s corpse lay face down as he had after Arlo had knocked him out. Now though, a bloody smear marred his right hand. Halak leaned forward and lifted it from the floor, examining it closer. There was too much blood to find the actually injury, so he pulled up Joey’s suit sleeve and rubbed it away. Beneath, blood began to spill out and cover the hand again, pouring from a deep, circular, incision.