Renegade Reborn

Part 5

The same two men in suits were still waiting for Ren, and they all started down another hall. The agents didn't talk to Ren, and Ren didn't attempt to engage them in conversation. Everything was eerily silent, even to Ren's ears, as they approached a pair of plain metal double doors. The agent in front pushed open one door and sound roared out to meet Ren as he strode through the opening.

A firing range occupied one corner of a football field-sized room, and a fully optioned combat training gym filled the next corner. Exercise equipment rested in the third quarter, and Ren didn't even look at the fourth corner or the MMA ring in the middle. He was heading for the administrative-looking man waiting in front of the firearms course. "Try to keep up," he said to the agents over his shoulder, hurrying away. Okay, Ren thought. This I could actually enjoy.

He skirted the cage and approached the waiting man, studying him. Not too tall and pretty skinny, his skin was tanned and his frizzy hair grey, and a pair of spectacles perched on his nose. The suit, of course, was obligatory. He stuck out one hand when he saw Ren and the agents tailing him. "I assume you are Drakos-"

"Malachai, yeah. Call me Ren. Nice to meet you, Mr. Alexander."

The man seemed unsurprised to be addressed by his name, and he waved to Ren. "For most immortals, this is a formality, but combat and physical testing is still a requirement. Are you acquainted with firearms?"

Ren grinned wickedly. "Oh, I'm acquainted."

"Good." Mr. Alexander put a handgun and two magazines on the table in front of Ren. "This is a-"

"Standard SIG Sauer P226R calibered in .40 Smith and Wesson. I know. I own a few."

Ren had already brass-checked it and loaded a twelve-round clip in a flash of motion before he finished speaking, and Mr. Alexander nodded in satisfaction at seeing the loaded weapon. "Then if you would be so kind as to shoot twenty times at that target?" He gestured cheerfully to a steel body-shaped target seventy-five meters downrange. Ren clicked the safety off, pointed the muzzle at the target, picked up the second magazine, and began. His shots rang out one after another; a few moments later, he released the empty clip and put in the fresh one, continuing until twenty bullets had cracked downrange.

He put the safety back on and lay the gun down as Mr. Alexander pressed a switch and the target rolled towards them. "I don't believe it," muttered one agent as it stopped in front of them. His partner was equally astonished. Mr. Alexander, however, only shook his head and smiled as he examined the ragged edges of the lone hole in the target's head. "Twenty shots through a single bullethole. Not bad," he murmured, writing at the same time.

Ren grinned. "What's next? I'm having fun here."

Alexander led them to the cage in the middle of the vast room, then turned and said, "Wait here."

Ren watched as he hurried into the hand-to hand combat section, neatly dodging punches and flying bodies. Alexander approached a man sitting in the shadowed corner and briefly engaged him in conversation. Ren didn't bother tuning in; he figured he'd find out soon enough. The man looked towards Ren and then nodded, getting up and following Mr. Alexander as he wound his way back. When the twosome passed, fighters gave each other knowing grins and broke off, joining the group growing around the cage. Soon enough everyone in the complex had left off what they were doing and gathered around the ring, waiting eagerly. The crowd split for Alexander and the man behind him, and they stopped in front of Ren.

"Ren," Mr. Alexander said, a tad nervously, "Given what we know of you, we have decided that your combat evaluation should be a match with our best fighter."

Ren shrugged and stripped off his leather jacket. "Sure. But I have to warn you, it won't be pretty."

The unknown man snorted. "Cocky, aren't you?"

Mr. Alexander stepped aside. "Ren, this is Ethan Thorne. Our champion."

A hoot went up at that, nearly deafening Ren, but he went on unconcernedly unlacing his boots. When he finished and slipped out of the black leather and socks, he calmly removed his shirt and changed his jeans into loose red shorts. Mutters went up at the casual use of power and his scarred back, and Ren stepped up into the ring, then turned back to Ethan, who was shucking his own clothing. "I may be cocky, kid," he said slowly. "But trust me, I have a right to be."

Ren circled around the cage, restless. A minute later, Ethan joined him. Ren could sense demon in him, knew he was a halfling. But he wasn't quite sure what the other half was. Unknown factor. Known factor, on the other hand: Ethan didn't have the sense of age other immortals got. He couldn't be more than a hundred, two at the most. His body was tanned, leanly muscled, a fighter's body. Unmarked, which meant that he hadn't been hurt severely yet. He held himself loosely, like Ren did. Dark eyes were sharp, examining Ren's own body and movements, calculating. Smart boy.

Mr. Alexander stepped to the edge. "This is not a dirty bout. No crotch shots, no eye gouging. Keep it legal. You fight until one of you taps the mat to signal his defeat. Ready?"

Both nodded.

"Begin!"