Interested to gauge her reaction, he says, “Oro1 and I are going to watch some illegal boxing.”
Her eyes narrow.
“Guys’ night,” he says.
She shrugs, turning her attention to the screen. “Have fun.”
She doesn’t seem angry or disapproving. Excitement trickles over him as he slips out the door.
A SAT takes James and Oro1 to a small arena built out in a warehouse in Y Quadrant, which is home to unregulated gaming. It’s on the same floor as the fitness center in Kate’s tower in C Quadrant, making him think it used to host a fully legal fitness facility before it became afighting ring. They take a seat in the stands to watch as two gloved women enter the center ring. The two rings that flank it are empty.
Oro1 leans over. “As the night goes on and more people sign up, those two will have fights too. All the betting is in Blackmarks that can be washed into unicoin. I have an account.”
James watches with interest as Oro1 opens a betting session, wagering on a woman with stark white spiky hair.God, that is a lot of zeros.“How is that possible if NHOS monitors the financial systems so closely?”
Oro1 grins. “Government officials still take bribes to look the other way. Sometimes a coin washer has to shut down and wipe out all their records, but they just open up again under a new name with a different BLACKOUT address.”
“So I guess a fake identity is similarly easy to manage?” James asks, thinking this might be a good time to broach the next item on his list.
“Oh no. They monitor IDs much more stringently. Blackmarks turning to uncoin just means people can spend more. Fictitious identities can be used for far more nefarious purposes.”
James is about to ask him how he might get around the identification issue when the ringmaster steps onto the floor, drawing their attention back to the center ring. The crowd is electric as the bell sounds. Then the white-haired woman throws the first punch. The red-haired woman narrowly dodges.
“Once you’ve registered an initial bet, you can just start calling them out. The organizers do it for the frenzy it creates,” Oro1 explains, before getting to his feet along with the crowd.
As the fighters circle each other, the crowd starts calling out bets. Oro1 shouts what sounds like an obscene number. Above the ring, a screen displays the odds and appears to be recording the wagers as they’re entered. He glances around for whomight be doing this when he realizes the betting system must recognize their voices and somehow connect it to their account. Fascinating.
James senses his own adrenaline rising to match the energy of the room. In the ring, the red-haired woman cries out. Her blood sprays across the mat as the other contestant’s left fist connects with her jaw. The displayed prize money figure doubles. As he scans the crowd, he can pick out the signature of wealth. If he had to guess, the majority of these people live in A or B Quadrant.
A thud draws his attention back to the ring. The red-haired woman apparently rallied. She stands over the other unconscious woman with her fists raised high. Once the white-haired woman comes to, they are escorted out of the ring.
James pats Oro1 on the shoulder. “You’ll win the next one.”
Up next is a man wearing a minuscule pair of lime green shorts and a full body tattoo that makes him resemble a giant gray lizard. When the close-up of his face appears on a particle pane, James can make out little slitted pupils. Another man steps into the ring and with the asinine way he’s grinning, James is certain he’s a manupartner. Once the announcer finishes, the fight begins.
“I have an idea,” he says to Oro1. “Just go with it.”
“Wait, where are you going?” Oro1 asks.
“I took boxing lessons as a teenager.” When Oro1’s brow quirks incredulously, he says, “It’s excellent exercise and, unfortunately for me, it’s the only transferable skill I’ve discovered. I’ve got to start making money somehow.”
Oro1 groans. “You sure you want to do this?” When James continues making his way down the aisle, he hears the other man grumble, “Kate is going to kill me.”
James makes his way down to the pit, where the ringmaster has taken a seat to watch the fight. As he approaches, the man’s attention moves from his tablet, which displays a ledger of participants, to James.The man’s gaze sweeps over his physique, then his dumb manupartner expression. He rewards James with a huge, greedy grin. “May I help you?”
James leans in. “My owner wants to watch me fight. That’s him right there.” He points to Oro1 and blows him a kiss. In response, Oro1 catches it out of the air and brings it to his chest. James bites back a laugh. “How do I sign up?”
The ringmaster gives a knowing chuckle as he taps at his screen. “Let me see what I can do to move you up the list.”
Half an hour later, a club escort kindly helps James sign up for an Off-the-Books Boxing account, and even shows him several reputable platforms for a Blackmarks account and how to link it when he asks. Thankfully, they’re not paying enough attention to know or care if he’s a manupartner.
Once official, James changes into an outfit from the costume closet, which amounts to a pair of traditional silk black shorts that almost hang to his knees and a pair of matching lace-up boxing boots. He assesses himself in the mirror. It is so surreal he considers backing out for a moment. But he can’t let himself. Focusing on the money he’s earning, he steps into the ring. The overhead cameras zoom in on his face, focusing on his nose. He gives the crowd a winning smile before turning to assess his opponent. If only his old coach, Jimmy, could see him now.
Across the ring, a man with long blond hair tied at his neck sits, seeming to have raided the costume closet in favor of a fitted leopard-printed wrestling-style singlet. He’s got whiskers either drawn or tattooed on his cheeks. If James can’t beat this guy, he deserves to lose.
The ringmaster calls them to step to the center of the ring. When the bell for round one rings, James springs into action, assessing his opponent with a quick jab-jab-cross combination. The man dodges the first punch, but James’s fist catches his jaw.
They break apart for a second, but this time the man comes back with a combo of his own, landing a hit that splits the corner of James’s lip. As the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth, his adrenaline spikes. For the first time since being in this world, he feels like he has a little control. Like he stepped into a boardroom where he knows the outcome before he opens his mouth. The deal is already sealed. He only needs to execute his plan.
