The concrete floor was stained with old blood that never quite washed away. The cage walls pressed in, trapping you with opponents who were just as desperate, just as terrified, just as willing to kill to survive.
She rembered, no, Lin Shuyin rembered, the last ti. A few days ago. The woman they’d put her against, soone twice her size with nothing left to lose. The feel of knuckles cracking against her ribs. The taste of blood in her mouth.
The crowd who were screaming for more, always more. Then the guards, who were watching with bored expressions, were placing bets on which one of the inmates would fall first.
That’s how she’d gotten these injuries. That’s how she had ended up dying in this cell.
The footsteps stopped directly outside their cell door.
A key scraped in the lock, the sound harsh and tallic in the heavy silence. The door swung open with a groan of protesting hinges, and three guards stood silhouetted in the doorway, backlit by the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor beyond.
The one in the middle was tall and broad-shouldered, with a face that looked like it had been carved from granite and possessed twice the compassion. Guard Chen. Shuyin’s borrowed mories supplied his na along with a flash of him standing ringside, laughing as an inmate begged for rcy.
To his left stood Guard Wu, shorter but stockier, with small, an eyes that glead with anticipation. He was the worst of them, the one who enjoyed the fights a little too much, who sotis placed bets on how long it would take for bones to break.
The third guard, Guard Zhang, was younger than the others, perhaps late twenties, with a face that might have been handso if not for the hardness around his mouth and eyes. He was the one who handled the logistics, who collected the money from the spectators, and kept the records that would never see the official light.
"Well, well," Guard Chen’s voice was like gravel grinding against stone. "Look who’s all healed up. That was so fast, Princess. Real fast. Truly magical..."
His eyes narrowed as he noticed Shuyin sitting upright, no longer the broken, dying thing they’d thrown in here days ago. Suspicion flickered across his face, but before he could voice it, Guard Wu stepped forward with a bundle of black cloth in his arms.
"No ti for questions," Wu said, his voice carrying that edge of excitent that made Blade’s stomach turn. "We’ve got a special event tonight. High-profile guests. Premium rates. The boss wants premium entertainnt."
He threw the bundle at Tank, who caught it reflexively. Black hoods. Four of them.
Tank stared down at the cloth in her hands, her face carefully blank, but Shuyin could see the white-knuckle tension in her grip, the way her breathing had gone shallow and controlled. She’d worn this hood before. They all had.
"All four of you," Guard Zhang said, pulling out a clipboard and checking sothing off with clinical efficiency. "The boss wants a special variety tonight. The brawler, the blade specialist, the quick one, and..." his eyes lingered on Shuyin with sothing between curiosity and cruel amusent, "the Princess. Again."
"She nearly died last ti," Blade said, trying to keep her voice level even though they all knew it was pointless. "A few days ago she was..."
"And look at her now," Guard Chen cut her off, gesturing toward Shuyin with mock amazent. "Sitting up. Looking healthy. Almost like magic." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "The crowd loved her last ti. Loved watching the rich girl get her face beaten in. Tonight they want a rematch."
Razor’s hands were trembling as Tank passed her one of the hoods. The youngest among them had only been to the ring twice, but twice was enough. The screaming. The blood. The way the guards would let the fights go on long past any reasonable stopping point, milking every mont of violence for the crowd’s entertainnt.
"Move it!" Guard Wu barked, slamming his baton against the cell bars with a tallic clang that made them all flinch. "We’re on a schedule. Guests are already arriving."
Tank began distributing the remaining hoods, her eyes eting each of her companions in turn. When she reached Shuyin, she hesitated, searching that glowing jade eye for, what? Recognition of their shared nightmare? Understanding of what they were about to face?
What she saw there made her pause.
There was no fear in those reptilian eyes. No dread or resignation.
Instead, there was sothing cold and analytical, sothing that assessed the three guards with the detachnt of a predator calculating odds. It was there for just a mont before Shuyin took the hood with steady hands.
But in that mont before the hood covered her face, sothing else happened.
Shuyin blinked, and her vision suddenly shifted.
The world exploded into layers of translucent depth. The concrete walls of the cell beca semi-transparent, revealing the rebar and electrical conduits hidden within. She could see through them, her jade eye piercing matter itself as if it were made of water.
Beyond their cell, she saw the corridor. Every detail is razor-sharp despite the solid wall between them. The scuff marks on the floor. The flickering fluorescent light needed replacing. And further, she could see into other cells. Inmates huddled in corners. Guards making their rounds.
The entire prison layout spreads out before her like a three-dinsional map made of ghostly, transparent layers.
Her vision extended forward, following the path the guards would take them. Through walls and doors and barriers that should have blocked her sight. Down corridors. Through checkpoints. And there, deep in the prison’s belly, she saw it.
The fighting ring.
A large circular space, concrete floor surrounded by chain-link fencing that curved up and over to form a cage. The crowd was already gathering, shapes and shadows that her penetrating vision rendered in eerie clarity. Rich n in expensive suits. Corrupt officials. Even so won had faces twisted with anticipation of violence. The guards are positioned around the periter. The betting tables were set up in the corners.
And in the center, already stained dark with old blood, the floor where they would fight.
Shuyin’s jade eyes took it all in, morizing every detail, every exit, every potential advantage.
The vision was overwhelming, too much information flooding her consciousness at once, but she forced herself to focus, to catalog what she saw.
Then she blinked again, and the vision collapsed back to normal. The walls beca solid once more. The distant ring disappeared from view.
But she rembered. Every detail burned into her mory.
"Put them on," Guard Chen ordered, his voice sharp with impatience. "And no funny business. You know the rules. You know what happens to anyone who causes trouble."
They knew. Shuyin’s borrowed mories supplied the knowledge, inmates who resisted never made it to the ring. They "fell" in the corridors. Tragic accidents. No witnesses except the guards who all told the sa story.
One by one, they pulled the hoods over their heads.
The black cloth settled over Shuyin’s face, blocking out the jade glow of her eye. The fabric was rough and slled of fear, hundreds of inmates before them had worn these sa hoods, walked this sa path.
It was thick enough to block out most light but thin enough to breathe through, leaving them in claustrophobic darkness.
But Shuyin discovered sothing.
Even through the hood, even with her eyes covered, she could still feel it. That strange penetrating vision, like a sixth sense hovering at the edge of her consciousness. Not as clear as before, but present. A vague awareness of the space around her, of the walls and the guards and her three companions.
It was disorienting, this double perception, the darkness of the hood layered over that phantom sense of sight.
She filed the knowledge away. Another ability in this strange new body. Another tool she could use.
"Line up," Guard Zhang commanded. "Single file. Princess in front, then Razor, then Blade, Tank at the back. Hands where we can see them. Mouths shut. If anyone makes a sound, everyone pays for it."
They shuffled into position, blind and vulnerable to anyone who couldn’t see through solid matter.
Shuyin felt a rough hand grab her upper arm, Guard Chen, his grip deliberately tight enough to hurt. He pulled her forward, and she let herself stumble slightly, playing the part of the disoriented prisoner.
User Comments
0 comments from readers