Orin and Alton convinced Rhea to accompany them to the Pit: the city's biggest fight club. On the south edge of the island, where no buildings stood, wildlife flourishing, and massive rock structures scaled the border towards the ocean. Vertical mines tunneled into the earth to form a massive pit dropping seventy feet. Ropes trailed down the slope, and metal rods and wooden planks were hammered into the rock along the edges of The Pit that spiraled down to the bottom. The round space at the bottom was over four hundred feet in diameter and had been formed after the discovery of rare earth elements residing beneath the ground. Aggressive mining removed the zircon and xenotime within three years. With the land now barren of riches, it developed other uses. The homeless had been the first to occupy it and had been the ones to hammer steps into the walls. They were also responsible for the corroded furniture and candle lanterns that now strung across the diameter of the hole.
The Pit held three rings, each fifty feet wide, messy barbwire creating a dome around the ring to trap the fighters. Doors woven into the wire were only opened once one of the opponents was incapacitated or dead. There were supposed to be no weapons, but people sometimes snuck in things like small knives or brass knuckles. People on the outside of the cages screamed and stomped their feet, grabbing and shaking the iron net that separated them from the fighters, ignoring the tearing skin on their hands as they coated the jagged wire with their blood. The place was gloomy and dirty and reeked of body odor and alcohol. It was swarming with raw, blinding rage that overwhelmed Rhea when she first climbed down the steps.
Alton and Orin dragged her through the crowd as she tried to keep from rubbing bodies with filthy violence-lovers. There were ugly lounging chairs, shopping carts, folding chairs, uneven tables, small step ladders, and anything else that could give a view of the cages.
Alton, Orin, and Rhea found a spot by a disgusting couch Rhea did not want to touch and placed herself on the edge of the arm.
Large posts resembling lifeguard chairs stood beside each ring eight feet above the nets with people in striped shirts watching the fight and the crowd, each armed with AK-74s.
"Who are they?" Rhea asked Orin as she looked up at the stripped overseers.
"The only glimpse of order within this madness. Any fights start outside the ring, and they take them out. They are employed by the triad, who had gained control of The Pit after years of shifting use."
Rhea sat with her eyes half-closed while Orin and Alton cheered with enjoyment. They watched one man who looked like a lumberjack with arms like logs and a long beard braided with shards of glass that he used to try to hit his opponent: a man with noticeably black eyebrows and spiky orange hair. For a while, the fight went on until Lumberjack stomped on Orange Hair's neck, making him pass out.
Looking across the cage after the other fighters, Rhea saw Mirek talking to a large tan man with blond hair slicked back with too much product.
"Who's that man Mirek's talking to?" she asked, tapping Orin's shoulder.
He looked over. "Shon Hammer. He's the deputy of the triad."
"The Pisac triad? That the one with the young boss?"
Orin nodded. "Tai Kamon. He's new to the game but quite a bel-esprit, according to rumors. He's also supposedly a legendary gunfighter. I heard he once hit a guy between the eyes with a CZ75 from over fifty meters away."
"They buy from Rusakov?"
"Everyone buys from him. Cartel too."
"So then, does the triad or the cartel handle drug sales in Samadoya? They both have trade routes and territory here from what I've come to understand."
"One thing about Samadoya: power shifts rapidly and constantly. Currently, both the triad and cartel occupy districts, though the cartel owns more territory since Silas Menendez took over the position in the city solely to drive the triad out. Samadoya is a huge spot for drug trafficking, not just as imports for the thousands of addicts, but as a port of exchange where no one will look twice at crates of opioids and heroin being loaded. The triad runs other businesses besides drug trafficking and is in no way anchored to Samadoya, but I think this is more a matter of spite than anything else that keeps them here now. Mendez and Kamon hate each other."
"Everyone here hates each other." Rhea glanced behind Orin, where Alton was talking with a dark-haired woman with vibrant lipstick and pigtails. "And who is she?"
"A cleaner. Works for Cesar Bernard."
"He the one who runs the hospital?"
Orin nodded again. "International organ trafficker. He and his doctors are some of the richest in the city, given Bernard's business has taken off internationally. They charge a fortune for their services and getting on his bad side will likely result in you being an unwilling donor."
"Is he a real doctor?"
"No idea. Some think so. Others think he taught himself the map of the human body through books and illegal dissections. Either way, he seems to know what he's doing."
There was a wave of shouting as Mirek walked into the cage, shirtless and barefoot, a sinister smile curving his face. His scar and tattoo-littered body was a canvas of abuse that became obvious under the bright lights. Both Alton and Orin cheered. His opponent—a man twice his width but two-thirds his height—stepped into the cage. The man stomped his feet, and Mirek stuck out his long snake-like tongue. A bell went off, and they charged at each other.
Mirek was much quicker than the other man, and though he didn't look it, he was stronger. He let the fight go on for a while, toying with the man with his swift punches and kicks. Rhea was amazed at how many hits Mirek took. All pain he welcomed despite his bones beginning to break. The man had Mirek on his back, beating his face in with a tired arm when a pause came in his muscles, giving room for Mirek to laugh and spit up blood.
With one swift kick, he had his opponent beneath him, snapping both his arms behind him. He pinned the man's head to the ground and plunged his fist through the skull repeatedly till his fist hit the floor. Alton and Orin cheered while Rhea stared through her hands; nausea and awe pulsing as she saw pieces of skull and brain splitting beneath a fist. The body ceased movement and Mirek finally got to his feet, flicking the human matter from his body.
The three climbed up the metal stairs for some air after a few more fights, the musky stench getting too much for their noses. The crowd started getting more and more hectic, and the peacekeepers atop the chairs cocked their firearms.
Orin lit a cigarette while they stood by a lone streetlamp when Mirek walked up from the Pit. In the light of the lamppost, his body glowed with sweat and blood. Rhea's eyes were drawn to his tattoos. Sanskrit ran down the center of his spine, and a trail of heart-shaped bodhi leaves floated along his ribs. Between his shoulder blades was the growling face of a sun bear, and the bloody head of a spider-haired woman wept down the base of his back.
"Enjoy the show?" he smiled, a broken nose leaking red.
"You know it," Alton said.
"For a minute, I thought that guy had you back there," Orin shook his head. "Thought he was gonna break your skull."
"Yeah, right," Mirek rolled his eye, "I just wanted to have a little fun first. But I'm finished here." He turned and headed down the street, barefoot and shirtless with a wad of cash in his pocket.
"Where's he going?" Rhea asked as they headed back down.
Orin shrugged. "Probably going to waste the money he made on dope, brothels, alcohol, all those sinful actions. There are times I've seen him burn bills he's earned."
"He should be using it to fix his face," she said.
Alton and Orin laughed.
Though Rhea's nerves felt static beneath her skin, there was a rush that blew through her at witnessing such extreme violence. The next fight consisted of two leaner men whose moves displayed skill and practice. There was a short man against another man with tattoos all over his face and body; a man with sumo-wrestler-build against a muscle-bulging weightlifter; a scar-faced Indonesian against a black-beard Russian; and a few army-build women who demonstrated speed and strength that suggested they could bring down any of the men in the cages beside them.
"Has he ever lost?" Rhea asked Orin while they sat in the back. "Mirek, I mean."
Orin shook his head. "Not that I've seen. Always kills them too."
The Pit exploded into unmanageable violence at around three in the morning. It was challenging to depict when things began to get out of control. Before Rhea could detect the rise of aggressive energy, the peacekeepers were firing their rifles, and people were screaming and scattering. Bullets tore through bodies as some people fled and others tried to put up a fight against the triad.
Orin and Alton pulled Rhea through the trampling crowd. When they reached the surface, they viewed the sun as it began to cast gold across the streets. They stopped at a bakery that had just opened and bought fresh bread before early risers cleared out the freshly baked food, each taking turns picking it apart as they made it to where the city dropped off into the water. The bay glowed in warm shades, and the boat's reflections in the water created a mirror of the world above it. They sat on the cement sidewalk, feet hanging over the edge of the market concrete, the ocean crashing six feet beneath them. On either side, rigged docks stretched out into the soothing water.
"You guys ever fight in The Pit?" Rhea asked as she pulled off a piece of bread.
"Never," Orin shook his head.
"Why not? You're strong."
"I can throw hits, but I'm not so good at taking them."
"Wiss," Alton laughed as he pinched Orin's ear. "I saw him get into a fight with a pirate who knocked him out with one punch. Mirek had to come to save his unconscious ass."
"Shut up, Alton," Orin growled as he flicked the man. "Like you're one to uptake physical conflict."
"Not much of a hands-on guy?" Rhea said to Alton.
"Definitely not," he said, putting a piece of bread in his mouth. "I don't do physical contact of any kind."
"You hear Kerem is off the market?" asked Orin.
"Is he?" Alton asked in awe.
"Got skinned alive by the Alsini. Word is Kamon ordered it." There was always hearsay at places like The Pit.
"Who's Kerem?" asked Rhea. "And who are these Alsini I keep hearing about?"
"Santos Kerem was a hitman for the triad. Apparently, he went after a bounty without Kamon's knowledge and killed the Taring underboss. He left enough of a trace they could track it back to him. Given he is named under the triad, the Taring's attacked one of the Pisac's opium-producing warehouses. When Kamon found out, he listed Kerem. And the Alsini are the ones that go for the hitmen."
"They hit the hitmen," laughed Alton. "The best killers in the world. No one knows what they really look like. Their name surfaced a few years ago, and since then, their work has catapulted their name throughout the globe. It's suspected it's a guild of four or five men given the vastness of their targets that take them all over the world. Everyone who they target doesn't live to give details. I've heard they're demons. Creatures made of smoke, servants of the god Yama, taking the lives of those judged to be sent to Narakas."
"Well, that's not true," Orin snorted.
"Yes, but it does make for a good story where facts are so few. And here, you can see strange things. It makes me think the rest of the world may have caught some of this city's disease."
"The only reliable fact about them is their teeth-snatching signature."
"Their what?" Rhea looked at him.
"They remove their victims' teeth. Not sure if that's before or after they kill them, but around many parts of the underworld, they are also known as the Denture Collectors."
"What the hell do they do with a bunch of teeth?" Rhea asked.
"Like we would know," said Orin. "I've heard every rumor about it. Some think they make stuff out of them. Like crowns or nice jewelry."
"That sounds creepy," said Rhea.
"I'd wear a nice necklace made out of canines," smiled Alton, tongue lapping over his own teeth. Rhea made a narrow shift towards her left.
"Some say they work with Rusakov," said Orin. "But he denies any cooperation with them."
"Why would they work with Rusakov?" Rhea asked.
Orin shrugged. "All I know is he's been targeted by dozens of hitmen over the years. None of them have made it to him."
"They probably buy stuff from him," said Alton. "He trades guns and ammo in return for protection. They have a similar arrangement with Bernard. They help with organ sales and production, and he, in turn, provides medical care."
"I didn't know they worked with Bernard," said Orin.
"He is the most widespread organ trafficker in the world. He has his doctors in hospitals across almost every continent, and to get that many organs means finding donors. They participate in the kidnapping business—rumor has it—and in return, they are given medical care by any of his people across the globe. Seems a good deal given they are international hunters."
"Any rumors of them working with the cartel?" asked Rhea.
Alton shook his head. "I don't think Mendez dares to seek them out."
"My guess, they're not all they're talked up to be," said Orin. "Samadoya tends to amplify rumors and stories beyond their real extent."
"I hope you're right," sighed Alton. "Because if any of the rumors are true, the Alsini could conquer this city in a day and leave the aftermath behind without a second thought."
"Let's pray this place can't get even worse."