Wintrow

A roar of patrons burst into cheers as a gunshot rang out. Leaf’s squinted to gain a lay of the room. A crowd of interstellar races mixed among a fighting arena. A line formed from a wall of barred windows taking bets to the raised stands surrounding the fighting arena. Televisions beside the gambling wall showed a man being dragged from the arena pit below. A betting line showed +800, the underdog won and seemed to please the crowd. A sign above read, BET HERE.

Leaf moved toward an empty table in the far corner of the room. He pulled out a warrant note. A photo showed a Tarnathian: greenish of skin, large in size, and rigged in brow. Written in black - Tarnathian – 87. His hulking form likely towered over humans. The Tarnathian people lived to approximately 250 years in comparison to humans 125. To see one on Navalen was rare. This particular one was wanted for trafficking.

He placed the note away and scanned the immediate vicinity. Even though the darkness blanketed most of the area. The Biococktail that ran through Leaf’s eyes, enhanced his ability to see. Patrons returned from the gambling wall and a series of waitresses walked out of the back room doors as if on que with another round of betting. A group of humans gathered after their win of the previous fight.

“Calvin had no chance. I knew we made the right bet,” one said to the others.

“No doubt from the curved blade he used. Last I saw him, he used a straight sword and won easily.”

“Either way, he’s dead now for it.”

“Stupid to change a winning strategy.”

Leaf silently agreed and observed a waitress dressed to impress walk over and asked the patrons for their drink orders. Two ordered biococktails and the other feeling lucky from the win ordered a double. Seen from between the lucky winners, two Makidians and a Ventaluian discussed in a foreign language. They appeared to have lost the most recent match as the Ventaluian drowned his sorrows over a drink.

“Completing the Champion Round Fighting tonight, Carical the Blood Carver!” The announcer said over the loudspeaker. “Versus, Tar the Tarnathian!” The crowd roared as they shook the fence around the cage.

“Hello Tar the Tarnathian…” Leaf said to himself with a grin. He moved closer to the fighting arena. The trio of Offlanders moved in close behind.

From the view above, the Wolves Den was apt to it’s name. A hole in the ground for animals to tear each other apart. Carical, a short and nimble male Ventaluian poised to attack, walked out the bay door swinging two short axes. Each axe etched with black marks that descended down to his forearms as tattoos. Opposing the Ventaluian, his mark, Tar the Tarnathian. His bulking statue-like frame blundered from the bay. He ducked as a he walked out dragging a meter long spiked club.

Crack! A gunshot sent the crowd into a wild roar. “Fight!” the announcer said.

The fight commenced. The Tarnathian raised his club high into the air and with a massive whoosh, he swung the spiked weapon down towards his prey. The short male dived to the side. He rolled and swung both axes upward in a strike. Tar heaved his weight back as Carical leaped upward with momentum. Tar balanced. Placed his right leg back and with a swinging side attack spun toward his target. The weight of the club gaining speed with each turn as he approached the nimble Ventaluian. Tar reached the outer ring of the Den. Carical ducked and swung at the instant of contact with the wall and cut deep into Tar’s shin. Blood sprayed and he collapsed with a limp. The club struck the fence sending his momentum to a halt.

The crowd erupted in applause. The patrons who were nearest the blow Tar landed upon the fence jeered back.

Tar swung his club haphazardly to distance the Ventaluian from his compromised position. Carical jumped back and swung in defense leaving his torso exposed. Tar heaved himself up and roared at his enemy. He charged and tackled his opponent. Sand plumed upward. Carical swung both axes in a bear hug like manner into Tar’s back. Blood spewed exposing muscle to the bone. Tar heaved backward and shouted in pain.

Tar raised his arms and landed a heavy deafening blow to his the Ventaluian’s skull. Blood drained from Tar’s back and yet the animalist rage that overtook his being continued to fuel his aggression. Again and again, the imposing Tarnathian inflicted heavy blows to Carical’s skull.

He fell limp and unconscious. The fight had lasted less than a minute. The announcer ended the fight over the speaker, to quite to be heard over the chaotic roar and jeers of the audience.

Tar reached behind his shoulder and removed both axes that dug deep into his trapezius. Blood poured down in heavy deep red streaks. Tar wiped his face with his palm and roared again.

“Collect your winnings at the caged windows, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said.

Leaf had never seen such a bloody occurrence. He’d collected many bounties and ended more than a handful of lives, yet he’d never witnessed such inhuman action occur between two beings. He remained silent as the cacophony of the audience died down. He observed his target exit the arena and peering through the closing gate saw a medic waiting to begin surgery.

Tar existed the arena and Leaf moved with him toward the opposing side. From around the side of the Wolves Den, Leaf waited, and watched the door with the word COMBATANTS written overhead. Winners waited in line to collect their winnings.

“Thanks for gambling at the Wolves Den, the blood of the Nexus,” the announcer said.

Time passed. Patrons entered and left. The combatant’s door did not open.

“No Tar…” Leaf said growing impatient. He calculated the odds of back exit and decided to enter and seek Tar before he left. Even with the darkness of the Den, Leaf could easily see with his biococktail still enhancing his vision. He reached the combatants door and entered.

A combatants locker room emerged. Immediately to Leaf’s right, a counter with a balding gentleman with a stocky frame leaned forward.

“Combatants are welcome to enter at the own free will. If any force of another is place upon you, that will violate all rules and prevent competition. Entry is free. Gambling on yourself is allowed. Bar fisted brawls go to unconsciousness, weapon go to death. Any questions?”

Leaf peered around the locker room. The red neon glowed. There was no sign of Tar.

“Barebrawl,” Leaf said. He wasn’t particularly interested in fighting. His code did not agree entirely with combating to the death either. Besides, the information he sought was greater than any concussion.

“Sign here,” he said sliding a computerized display around on a gimbal.