City of Fire and Ink

Ready the Bath Bombs

Maisie missed the cue. 

The plan was for her to sneak up and hold a knife against one of the gaengdanjang and drag him into the pit after I finished setting up. Instead, she was deep in conversation with a tattooed person wearing more knives then I had ever seen in someone. They had brown skin and curly hair pulled back into a topknot with the undersides shaved. As much as I appreciated that, I was too busy trying to frantically signal Maisie, without looking like I was trying to signal Maisie. What is going on?

I couldn't shout to get her attention. The sounds of the drinking and yelling and fighting would drown me out if I tried. Plus, it would blow the entire plan up in smoke. 

I made eye contact with Rowan on the ground floor. He looked just as confused as I did, gesturing at Maisie then shaking his head when he realized she wasn't even looking at us. I fought the urge to drop my head into my hands. Think Seojun, think. 

Incoming ping from Orion. I opened up my messages. Data is downloaded and slideshow is ready. How far away are we?

Why don't you ask Maisie?

She missed the cue didn't she?

Yeah, she missed the cue. She's talking to this person who's wearing more knives then I've ever seen on a person. 

Don't wait for Maisie. She's probably doing this just to spite you. 

I sighed. Fine, I'll just get this thing started myself. I moved myself away from the crowded table and into a crowded corner. I pulled up the group chat. Alright people, I'm set up. Slideshow is primed. Ayofemi, you good?

His message was as dry and humorless as he usually was. Aisha said he was actually funny, but I had yet to see anything to back her up. Bath bombs are a go. And for the record, I expect all the credit after this. 

In your dreams I fired back. Rowan, can you take over since Maisie is currently being incompetent?

You got it. I need ten minutes. I waited anxiously as Rowan made his way up the sheer walkway towards Maisie. The club was designed like a twisting snake, hence the name.  Elevating fighting platforms in the middle, with comfortable booths around the sides. The center platform was already drawing the most attention, two people who had been grappling it out for the last fifteen minutes. They looked like seasoned fighters, especially if they had already amassed fans in the audience who were holding up signs with their names on them. 

I kept my eye on the throne. The very back of the room was one large slab of river stone with water pouring down both sides of a massive throne. It was a hodgepodge of precious metals, gold, silver, jade. But the most eye-catching part wasn't the throne itself, it was the person on the throne. 

I couldn't see much. Their floor length green veil made it difficult to make out any facial features. Aside from that, they wore Guerrilla castoffs, baggy black clothing reinforced with protective padding. The logo on the right wrist marked them as official. Knockoff Guerrilla uniforms were pretty trendy, but the actual ex-uniform of the Pardahnan military had the five partitioned circle branded on the wrist. It was a subtle, but effective display of power. 

What kind of leader would lord over a fighting ring and not even deign to show their own face? One who was either very devout, or pretending to be. I knew that the Cobras and Nostras were rumored to be the most religious gangs, but if the head himself was wearing a full-length veil, than clearly it was a big deal. 

A beep on my implant reminded me that I was currently occupied. Aisha: You better have a plan if the person sitting on that throne is Park Nazir himself.