Capítulo 452: The Bank Vault Brawler
The Bank Vault Brawler
Heading through the Atm, they carried on walking down the hallway where a bright light could be seen.
The fact that they knew the combination to the Atm to allow themselves in was a clear and indisputable sign that they had received a legitimate invitation. They weren’t just showing up; they were expected.
When the three of them finally headed out to the other side, the noise could be heard which was immense. The sound of the underground world hit them like a physical wave.
The entire venue was striking. There were bars set up around the edges, designed for the wealthy clientele. An elevated seating area circled the spectacle below, showcasing what was clearly the cage in the middle. Everything was dimly lit, creating a dramatic, dangerous atmosphere, and there was a man with a question mark masked on his face—the host—waiting for their arrival.
Aron was immediately on high alert. He had noticed that the set up was almost the same as last time, the familiarity ringing alarm bells in his mind. The only difference was that the fighting arena for this one was a reinforced cage rather than that of a traditional ring. It signaled a harsher, more brutal kind of engagement.
“Miss Curts is that correct?” The host with the mask said smoothly as he came over. “I believe it’s your first time here, so I would like to explain to you how things work. While doing so, why don’t we head on over to the bar, where you can order any drink of your liking and I will go through everything.”
This was the protocol. This was the show.
Na didn’t wait. He immediately walked off to the side, going off to where the contestants would be. He made it look like he wasn’t with them, distancing himself from the high-stakes bettors. Meanwhile, Aron made sure to stay next to Sherievery step of the way, his shadow, his protector.
Originally Max had just wanted to use Sheri’s name and have the group send a representative, keeping her safe from the immediate threat. But the Black Hounds had insisted. They said that wasn’t possible.
The reason was specific: the person making the bet, that was clearing the funds of where it was coming from, they needed to be present. This was why Sheri had gotten involved in the whole thing in the first place—to validate the wealth. Max knew though it was more so they knew who they had dirt on, and who to chase up when need be. They wanted her visible, exposed.
While walking over, the host expertly explained everything to Sheri: When she could make bets, how to make bets and how payment worked after the event. There was already a table with her name on it, marked for a VIP, and with a screen display allowing her to make bets on the go however she wished. It was well run to say the least, meticulously organized, and even the service seemed top notch.
The host finished his briefing. “Alright I will leave you be to enjoy your drink, in an hour’s time head to you private table and I hope you enjoy your first event here, and we see you again.” The host claimed as he walked off, but not before keeping an unnerving eye on Aron as well.
When Sheri’s drink finally arrived, a vibrant, sophisticated cocktail, she looked at it for a moment, the complexity of the glass echoing the complexity of the world she had just stepped into, and then placed her hand on her head.
“Do you want this?” Sheri commented, looking at Aron. “I only recently just graduated, and I never did like the taste of alcohol that much.”
Aron’s response was immediate and focused on security. “Unfortunately miss, if I am to do my job properly it would be wise for me to not drink this beverage.” He was her shield. “If you feel uncomfortable feel free to just drink water, and I am happy to test any drinks that come your way.”
He knew the danger was real. If anything, Aron wanted to insist on testing the drinks for any substances. He would be able to discern certain taste and figure out if they did try anything insidious. The issue was alcohol was quite strong at covering things up as well, masking unwanted flavors and chemicals, so it was better for them to just avoid drinks altogether.
Although Sheri didn’t drink the drink, she stayed at the bar for a while and looked around at the other guests, taking in the scene. She was just window shopping the high-stakes underworld. That’s when she could see quite a few people she recognized, those that she had met before in completely different, legitimate circles.
Although many had worn masks and such to cover their faces, the same with Sheri and Aron, some didn’t care at all. As if they were almost proud to be in a place like this, exposing their true nature to the darkness.
“I never thought so many people would be involved or enjoy something like this,” Sheri whispered, the disappointment heavy in her voice.
“Seeing more of the world, is not always a good thing,” Aron said, his gaze hard. “It’s more dangerous than people think which is why it’s best if you stay by my side.”
Aron offered his hand, a solid anchor in the dangerous chaos, and then led her away from the bar and the prying eyes, toward their private table together.
Meanwhile, with Na he had gone into a back room, a separate, more spartan area. This was where the contestants were getting ready before they were allowed out into a particular area on the ground floor, waiting for their turn to fight.
Since the venue was in Notting Hill, the location lent itself to a mix of low- and high-tier fighters. Looking around the tense space, there were people that even Na recognized. He saw Fighters from street gangs, those with big names in the combat circuit, and there were even a couple of professional fighters who had resorted to the underground ring after their careers had crashed in the legitimate world.
He scanned the room, his eyes sharp. ‘Wait that person, who is he, have I seen him before?’ Na wondered, a flicker of memory trying to surface as he couldn’t clearly remember the name or the context immediately.
The individual he was looking at, who was preparing for the coming battles, was Evon, a notorious member of the Guild Rat’s. A familiar face. A dangerous face.