<strong>Susan Cochrane<br/>At the Illegal Pitfights</strong><br/>Damian acknowledged her presence with a nod, just as small holes are opened in the cage, and two young boys throw an implement of destruction into the ring.<em>The young one dives after the nunchako - the black goes for the stick that's nearby, than looks at it with some doubts. It's a rattan stick.<br/>His opponent, on the other hand, looks fully familiar with his nunchako.</em><br/>"Yeah, one of my students is fightin' tonight. In the catfight! You take good care of her, doctora... and I take good care of you, and watch your glass for you".<br/>He sounds proud. And indeed, there are probably enough people around that wouldn't be above spiking a glass of whatever she drank.<br/>Although, Susan realises, there are a few other lone women around here... sweaters seem popular among them. And they've got the Stare. The one that says "mess with me, and I'm gonna mess with you".<br/>One of them even seems to be guarding a guy that looks every bit a Southern gentleman - although she's wearing an impeccable formal attire, which nonetheless allows her free movement. His armcandy sometimes looks at her in bewilderment.<br/><em>In the ring, the fight now resonates with the clash of wood, and the crowd is hooting. The ends of the nunchaku are glinting, and you know it's been weighted to crush bones like watermelons.<br/>The black man closes in, and wards the first attack without effort-then he hits towards the head. His opponent dives below the sweep, and hits back. Too short, too predictable - a single step is enough to avoid. Then the man reaches forward, and hits under the arc of the nunchaku, in the exposed ribs.<br/>The white guy looks like he's going to fall, and the winner starts raising from his crouch, swinging for the finishing strike.<br/>But guts and sheer tenacity carry the day, as the bloodied boy raises, and almost everybody loses the glinting end of the nunchaku from sight. Including his opponent, although he tries to side-step. Too slow, too late.<br/>The end of the weapon crashes in the side of his head, almost inaudible over the hooting. But Susan thinks she's heard a crack.<br/>Oh shit...</em><br/>The almost-assured winner is down in one strike. A referee counts to 10, unnecessarily, then the "staff" (young latinos, mostly -maybe prospective members of the gang?) runs to drag the man out.<br/>The winner stumbles, covered in bruises, and almost falls in the hands of his girlfriend.<br/>John nods at you and goes on to pay him.<br/>"Ladies and Gentlemen, and all of you in here!", announces the big black man in white suit that just got in the cage. "You can put your bets for the next fight. Take a drink, or something up your noses, while you prepare for Cherry... versus Lightning!"<br/>The first name is met with hooting. The latter, with wild hooting. People look with respect.<br/>And Damian is smiling.