Super Bad (Completed 2013)

‡ Chapter 21.3 ‡

"Dammit," I hissed.

Annoyed it wasn't that simple, my legs continued moving through the deeper parts of this town.

Besides the louder shouts, growing profanity and increase in bad hygiene, I spotted nothing important. Stumped to what was next, I surveyed the area and noted a few trees.

I climbed up the closest, getting higher closer to the midnight sky. I was almost as high as the old water tower that wasn't far. I peeked out from the top, glancing at the action below. A small arena where men seemed to fight was ahead. Observing, I noticed the other man would surrender or was beaten up pretty bad. There was a payment to participate or you could be a spectator or even make a bet.

Feeling for the gold pouch dangling by my pants, I made the connection and scaled down the tree.

"Hey young boy, watch it!" hollered a buff looking man. He was short and tough, an odd breed in these parts. I staggered and kept walking, not wanting to start a fight. The arena was in the middle of the busiest streets I've witnessed, the road filled with more than the normal physical action.

All the men chanted as two fighters were in the midst of their battle. Both gripped a long spear that was twice the size of them, making it humorous.

Well. I found it funny as hell. I wasn't sure about them though.

One wore a white bandana tied to his arm and the other had a dragon tattoo down his back. They keep on taking turns, taunting each other with the sharp objects. I snaked through, trying not to stir any attention. But Romane had other plans.

"Hey, looks whose back," says one of the sweaty men. He had one black eye and a scar across his cheek. All the heads directed to me, like a trail of dominoes. Cheers and hollers echo off of the store walls, all noticing I had entered. The oily hands of men patted against my back as I broke into the welcoming circle.

Whose back? Maybe I was to play a role of someone. A hidden someone.

I couldn't fail at that. I've been hidden all my life.

Yet no matter how familiar I was to staying hidden, the downside of this situation was that it was quite warm inside the cloak, and that sixty sweaty men crowded over me like a swarm of bees.

An authorative voice captured my attention and I saw a man walking up and down the crowds, collecting money. As crazy as it sounds, he seemed to be the organizer of these events. It was just a guess since this was anything but organized.

His Jamaican hat bobbed up and down as he walked over. "The Hooded, my man! It's been a while since I last saw you," he said. As he talked I stared at his gold tooth.

Man? Hooded?

"This is basically a stimulation," Romane described. "You will be taking up an identity and you have to play out that role until your mission is complete."

I put my hand in the air, waving it as I lingered a pause for his response. "So...do I get a profile ID or something like in the movies?"

"No. I want to see how well you can adapt."

"You call this adapting?"

"Of course. Don't you know the best survivors are those who can quickly adapt to new environments? Know where life is aiming before they send you the curve ball."

"How much are you betting today?" Johnny said. His brown hungry eyes searched for the money. I unhooked the pouch and tossed him the bag, keeping mute. There was no way in hell I'd replicate a man's voice. His big hands took the cash, placing the coins on his palm. As he counts, I gazed back at the arena. The two fighters were still playing, both not even scratched. There was no life in this battle, it needed more excitement.