Azazel leaned over the desk and came so close to Krychek’s face that their noses nearly touched. His tone remained low and collected as he spoke. “You aren’t paid to think, Mayor. You’re paid to keep up appearances.” He tapped on the computer on the mayor’s desk. “So, are you going to see that the appropriate amount of lottery tickets is purchased, or am I going to have to break more than just your hand?” Azazel cocked his bald head to the side. “I’d hate to have to pay a visit to your family as well. Your son has band practice this afternoon, doesn’t he? It would be pretty difficult for him to continue to play with only one arm.” He allowed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Your wife is quite lovely. Perhaps she should come stay in my tower for a few days. I’m sure she would have an amazing time and I know my guys would love to meet her.”

  “No!” Krychek shouted. “No, please! Leave my family out of this! I’ll do it!” The mayor lowered his head, closed his eyes, and whispered, “I’ll do anything you want.”

  Azazel lifted his finger from the man’s hand and sat down in a cushioned chair in front of Krychek’s desk. “I thought you might say something like that. It’s really the best choice for you and all involved.”

  Krychek shook his head as he cradled his broken hand. “My family shouldn’t be a part of this, Mr. Black. That was never part of our deal.”

  “They became part of the deal when you took this office,” Azazel replied. “That’s how this kind of business works. As long as you do what you’re told and what is expected of you, they’ll never even meet me. Currently, they’re the most protected citizens in Estorine City.” He leaned his head to the side. “However, if you ever make me ask you twice again, they’ll be the least alive people in the city.” He narrowed his eyes as he continued. “I don’t like to ask twice, Mr. Mayor. Normally, I would have just killed you for the inconvenience, but the elections are two years away and I don’t particularly care for your assistant mayor. So, I’ve allowed you this one discrepancy. It will be your only one.”

  Krychek nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand. I won’t disappoint you again. I’ll have the appropriate funds transferred from the AraCorp accounts by the end of the business day.”

  Azazel allowed a real smile to form and spread his arms. “You see how easy that was, Mr. Mayor? It’s much better for both of us when things run smoothly. There’s no reason we can’t be friendly and forgo all these nasty threats. It’s only business, after all. Don’t you agree?”

  “I do, sir,” Krychek croaked.

  “Wonderful.” Azazel stood and straightened the collar of his navy-blue business coat. He held out his right hand to the mayor then immediately swapped it for his left. “My apologies, Mr. Mayor. Wouldn’t want to further injure that hand of yours.”

  Krychek stood and shook Azazel’s hand with his uninjured left hand. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Black.”

  Azazel looked at the pathetic man’s hand and shook his head. “That will need to be looked at. Take a long lunch and swing by the tower. Have Dr. Truul take a look at it. He’ll get you fixed up. I’ll let him know you’ll be by.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Azazel turned and exited the mayor’s office. As he shut the door, he looked to the right and smiled at the pretty blonde secretary. “I feel I must apologize for the noise, Ms. Delaware. Business can get heated at times and I’m sure you’d prefer to do your work in peace and quiet.”

  Denise Delaware positively beamed at him. “Mr. Black, how many times do I have to ask you to call me DD? And don’t worry about the noise. I understand the nature of business. I also understand that it’s none of my business.”

  Azazel winked at her. “Astute as always, Ms. Delaware. Perhaps we could have dinner this Friday night. Say, eight o’clock at the tower?”

  DD blushed and looked down at her desk, then back up to him. “I would love to, Mr. Black.”

  “You’ve made my day, Ms. Delaware,” he said with a smile. “I’ll send a car to pick you up. See you Friday.” He crossed the small room and entered the elevator. DD was still grinning as the doors slid shut.

  Azazel stepped out the front door of city hall and looked around with a smile. City hall was centrally located within Estorine City and had a magnificent view. Skyscrapers, markets, storefronts, and residential areas peppered the land all the way to the horizon. He controlled nearly every illegal endeavor in most of the area. These endeavors included everything from money laundering and blackmail to underground cage fighting and drug trafficking. Occasionally, he would also take contracts that made particular individuals disappear. Permanently.

  Pretty much the whole city was under his control in one way or another, except the south side. That part was controlled by a bright green Thrynn named N’thr T’Lathll. Most simply called him Noth, for short. The little pest had, unfortunately, already laid claim to that area before Azazel could establish ties with the locals and their businesses. Thrynn were a scaled reptilian species of carnivores that cohabitated the planet with Elowan, Humans, and Velox. They were around a meter and a half tall, with thick muscular legs, and a muscular tail. The males were usually a brighter color than the female.

  “What’s next on today’s agenda?” Azazel asked Mark Towman as he reached the bottom of the steps.

  Mark was Azazel’s second in command and one of the few people he actually trusted. He was in his mid-thirties, six feet tall, and in good shape with short, light brown hair and blue eyes. He had also been slightly enhanced. He had additional speed and strength. Mark wasn’t anywhere near Azazel’s level, but could more than hold his own in a fight.

  “I think there’s only one thing left, Boss,” Mark replied. “I don’t think you’re going to like it very much, though.”

  Azazel raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

  Mark sighed. “It’s Chico. He says he won’t be able to fight this Saturday night. His ribs haven’t healed yet from his last fight and he says he can’t move or breathe the way he needs to.” Chico was Azazel’s best underground fighter. He’d barely won his last fight and nearly lost his perfect record.

  “Hmm.” Azazel stuck his hands into his pants pockets and turned to face the city again as he thought. After a moment, he asked, “Is Chico saying he can’t fight, or that he won’t fight?”

  Mark shook his head. “I don’t think he’s saying he won’t. He’s never once tried to get out of a fight before. I really think the guy’s hurt and he’s being honest with us. Jones really worked him over the other week. I was honestly surprised. I’ve never seen anyone work Chico like that. Ever. The man’s an absolute beast in the cage.”

  “I agree,” Azazel said. “Let’s go pay him a visit.”

  The door to Chico’s high-rise condo opened up and the man stood there for a moment with wide eyes. Chico was six feet eight inches tall and at least three hundred and fifty pounds of pure rage and muscle. His ebony skin was as dark as could be, and his hair hung to his shoulders in tight braids. Numerous scars ran down his massive arms, chest, and some on his back from his time spent in the underground fighting world.

  “Mr. Black,” he said, and stepped back to open the door all the way. He made a welcoming gesture with his free arm. “Please, come in and make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink? Mark? How about you?”

  Azazel smiled at the man and entered the condo. It was a nice home, adorned with art, lavish furniture, and the best electronics money could buy. At first glance, one would never have guessed a rough and tough cage fighter lived there. Azazel paid his fighters well. Better than any of the other bosses from other cities did. Especially Chico.

  “A glass of ice water sounds wonderful, Mr. Chico. Thank you,” Azazel answered.

  “I’ll take a beer,” Mark added as he followed Azazel in.

  Chico closed the door and engaged the lock. “Coming right up, gentlemen.” He went to the refrigerator and opened the freezer side. He pulled out a frosted, medium sized glass and filled it with ice cubes. From the refrigerator he grabbed a plastic bottle of expensive mineral water and a beer. He carefully poured the water into the frosted glass and set it on a napkin on the bar in front of Azazel, then popped the beer top and did the same for Mark.

  Azazel took a small sip from the glass and grinned. “A frosted glass. Mr. Chico, you spoil me, sir. Thank you.” Mark saluted with his beer and took a pull.

  “It’s my pleasure, Mr. Black,” Chico replied. “You take good care of me. So, I’ll always try to do my best for you.”

  “And so, you have,” Azazel said. He raised an eyebrow at Chico. “Which brings me to the point of my visit. I understand you don’t want to fight this Saturday night. Something about your ribs still being hurt and you can’t move and breathe like you should?”

  Chico raised his hands in defense. “Sir, let me be very clear. If you tell me to fight on Saturday, I will. No questions asked. I didn’t send Mark that message to get out of a fight. I sent it to let you know that I’m not in peak performing condition. Ranger is a beast and I’m not sure I can beat him the way I am. I know you don’t like to lose, so I was just informing you what my physical status was.”

  Azazel studied him for a long moment, then pointed to Chico’s side. “May I see?”

  “Yes, sir,” Chico answered and lifted his shirt.

  He winced as he did so, and Azazel could see the pain was real. All along his rib cage was heavy bruising and clear swelling. His ribs hadn’t just been hurt. They had been broken. Azazel was surprised the man hadn’t spoken up sooner, much less be up and about instead of bedridden.

  “I see what you mean, Mr. Chico.” Azazel took another sip of his water as he pondered. “You’ve fought Mr. Jones previously, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Chico replied. “But he’s never fought like that before. He was different.”

  Azazel nodded. He hadn’t actually watched the fight, but his men had said it had been one for the ages. Chico had reportedly gotten lucky with a kick to Jones’s chin and knocked him out cold. If not for that, Chico would have most likely had his first loss. “Different…how?”

  Chico leaned against the wall. “In every way, sir. He was faster, stronger, and more adaptive to my fighting style than he had ever been in the past. When he hit me, it was like being slugged with a steel bar. And I’ve been hit with those, so I know what it feels like. When I hit him, it felt like punching a wall. I don’t know what kind of new workout and diet he’s on, but I need to get on it too.”

  Azazel and Mark both shared a look with each other. Jones’s new set of skills sounded very familiar to them. It was something that would have to be dealt with, and soon. Azazel drank the rest of his water and walked around the bar to rinse the glass out in the sink. He dried it off with a kitchen towel and placed it upside down in the dishrack next to the sink. He turned to face his fighter again.

  “Mr. Chico, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I believe Jones and his boss, Mr. Taggart tried to pull a fast one on us. It will be dealt with. In the meantime, I want you to get over to the tower and have the doctor take a look at those ribs. Bless your soul, you’re probably in more pain than you’re willing to show. Maybe there’s something he can give you to aid in the healing process. A steroid shot or something. He can definitely help you with the pain, though.”

  A confused look crossed Chico’s face. “Do you think he can have me ready to go by Saturday?”

  Azazel shook his head. “Don’t worry about Saturday. You and Ranger can fight next month.” He held up a hand to stall Chico from responding. “I’ll not argue the point with you, Mr. Chico. You’re on vacation for the next four weeks. Enjoy the time off and prepare yourself. I’m also going to pay you as if you fought this coming Saturday. This isn’t your fault. I don’t think you could have done any better than what you did against Jones. I’m quite impressed, to tell you the truth.”

  “You know something, don’t you, sir,” Chico said.

  “I believe so,” Azazel replied. “I think Jones had a body upgrade prior to the fight so he could finally beat you and give you your first loss. Probably not a full treatment, but enough to give him the clear edge in the fight. If he’d won, he and his boss would have collected millions.”

  Chico narrowed his eyes. “They cheated.”

  Azazel chuckled. “They tried to. But you were better than him even with his upgraded body.” He pointed a finger at Chico. “I want you to let it go, Mr. Chico. I fully understand that you must be angry and want to get even with the man. Leave it to me. You have my word that it will be dealt with in a manner sufficient to the discretion. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Chico answered without a second’s hesitation. “If you say you’ll handle it, you’ll handle it.” He rubbed his hands together as if he was dusting them off. “I wash my hands of it, right here and now.”

  “Excellent.” Azazel walked over to rest a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “Now, go see the good doctor and get fixed up. Mark and I will tend to the rest.” He turned to walk towards the door but stopped and turned to face Chico again. “And thank you for the hospitality, Mr. Chico.” He waved his hand in a general manner at the condo. “You have a lovely home. I need to make it a point to come visit you more often.”

  “You’re always welcome here, Mr. Black,” Chico replied. “And you know that if you ever need me for anything, all you have to do is call. You pulled me off the streets and got me clean. You gave me a real chance to be someone. I went from being homeless, to making more in one fight than most sanctioned fighters make in a year. You have my eternal gratitude and loyalty.”

  Azazel gave Chico a respectful nod. “It has been my pleasure, Mr. Chico. I thought I saw something special in you. I wasn’t wrong.”

  Mark walked over to the trash receptacle and tossed his empty beer bottle into it. “Thanks for the beer, Chico. And the boss is right. You’re something special. You took on an enhanced and beat them. Damnedest thing I ever saw. I was too wrapped up in watching the fight to realize that guy had been altered or I’d have stopped it. You have my apologies for that. I swear I’ll make it up to you.” He held his hand out to the man, and it was quickly accepted.

  “No apologies necessary, Mark. Thank you, though,” Chico responded. He followed the two men to the door, unlocked it, and opened it for them. “Stop by any time, gentlemen.”

  Azazel tapped Chico on the chest with a finger as he walked out and said, “Go…see…the…doctor.” He and Mark stepped out into the hallway.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll go get ready, now.” With that, he closed the door.

  Azazel looked Mark in the eyes. “Are you ready for a quick road trip?”

  Mark smiled. “Should I get some of the guys together? I can have thirty men ready in an hour.”

  “No.” Azazel grinned. “I think this is one of those occasions where less is more.”

  Azazel stood in the shadows outside the home of Bontovias Jones, the enhanced man who’d injured Chico. He’d traded in his business suit for black fatigue bottoms, combat boots, and a bullet proof vest, under which he wore a simple, black t-shirt. He watched patiently until the last light in the home went dark. Still, he waited another half hour. His earpiece chimed and Mark’s voice came through.

  “I’m in position, Boss. He sleeps with the balcony doors open, and I’ve got a clear shot. Looks like he needs a haircut, though. Say the word, and I’ll take a little off the top.” He was on a rooftop two blocks away with a perfect view of the home.

  Azazel stifled a laugh. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mark, but I would like to have a few words with Mr. Jones before his hair appointment, if you don’t mind.”

  “Don’t mind at all, sir. Just offering my services.”

  “Duly noted. I’m moving in.”

  “Understood.”

  Without making a sound, Azazel slinked from the shadows and up to the side of the house. He crept along until he was directly under the open window.

  “That’s it,” Mark confirmed over the comm. “You’re right under his room. The railing looks like iron. It should hold you. No movement. You’re clear.”

  Azazel bent his knees, then leapt straight up and grabbed the iron railing of the third story balcony. It held as Mark said it would. Luckily, it hadn’t made any squeaking sounds when Azazel’s weight pulled down on it. He quietly lifted himself up over the railing and stood on the balcony. Through the open French doors, he could see Jones lying in bed, fast asleep. He could hear him too. The man snored worse than anyone Azazel had ever heard in his life.

  He stalked through the open doors and into the bedroom. The light switch was all the way across the room, so he walked over and flipped it on. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The light hit Jones’s closed eyes, causing him to squeeze them closed even tighter. Then he opened them with a confused look on his face. He sat up and looked around the room until his eyes landed on Azazel. He immediately shot up out of bed.

  “Black!” he roared. “What, in the unholy dreggs, are you doing in my house?”

  Azazel gave him a bored half smile. “I think it would be quite obvious, Mr. Jones. I’m paying you a visit.”

  “I don’t recall extending you an invitation,” Jones spat. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming to this city, much less my fracking house. Taggart owns Tridenia City and everything in it.” He sneered at Azazel. “And currently, that means you too.”

  “Yes, yes,” Azazel said with a dismissive wave. “I’m aware of Mr. Taggart’s position in Tridenia.” He gave Jones a deviant smile. “I’m also aware of a few other things.”

  “Is that so?” Jones asked. “Well, by all means, Black, share with the rest of the class what it is you know so much about.”