EIGHT: SHOWTIME!

Making her way to the stoned dock she had crashed into was probably a stupid decision to make, especially with the remaining hours of daylight she had left. She didn't have any idea how bad the boat was when she left it - either it had sunk or it was there surrounded by hordes of zombies.

So Jack was putting the bets out: hoping that one, the damage wasn't that severe and two, she could be out on the water once the sun was down and away from the shoreline. Right now, the pet project was on hold. That discovery and encounter with a talking zombie? Didn't happen, she just imagined it. The orders from the Ravs? Nope, she heard nothing over the radio.

Until she'd make it to the Slums and see just how empty the Tower really was, she wouldn't be able to focus. Until she knew that everyone was alive, even Harris, Lena, Champ and Rahim.

And there was the other matter of something lurking in the waters but she hoped that maybe it was long gone.

"C'mon, please be there."

And she exited out of the broken quarantine wall.

"OH, bloody-!" she held in her strongest curses.

The damaged boat wasn't there. At all. Nothing. Just only the clear saltwater and the buoys in the distance.

"That's just great... Lenny's gonna kill me." She tapped her foot, rethinking the situation. "Ok… Maybe I should take up Mahir's offer." But that meant heading to the Outskirts, not the Slums. And the way between them was closed off. She could get the climbing gear and look for a vantage point across the mountains-

Then her pocket vibrated. She pulled back out her earpiece. Any news would be better than wandering around aimlessly for a missing boat.

"'Ello~?"

"Jack?"

"What's up, Siv. Bit late to be getting another drop, don't cha think?"

"Um, not today. I…just wanted to check on ya."

Uh-oh. Jack knew that tone. "Something happened?"

"Um." She had no idea what the teenager was doing, but could only imagine. Biting down on her lip because she either couldn't talk about the matter or she'd feel ashamed to speak. "Nothing, really. Just wanted to talk."

"Ok, I'm listening. What do you wanna talk?" She probed - try and get the Kid to drop her guard down.

"Uh…" Hesitation. Like she was trying to search for a topic on the radio station's desk. "Oh! How are things so far? Found that Hunter yet?"

Seriously. Why on Earth did kids these days want to change the topics on a dime? Still, Jack continued with the conversation. "Oh, yes. Got more than what I bargained for."

In more ways than one. But she refrained from saying that.

"Okkk. Sounds bad. Should we be hunting down this thing if it's smart or something?"

"Hunt down the Hunter… Naaaah. It'll be fine," she reassured. "He's not much of a threat anyway."

"He?"

"Oh, pay no heed." Jack laughed. Now it was her turn to switch topics. "There are more pressing matters to worry about. Surviving, avoiding the GRE, getting Antizin, so on."

"Antizin. Right."

"You don't sound confident there," she pointed. "It's not like you guys are low on it, right? So it'd be fine."

"Y-Yeah. We've got loads. Loaaaaads of Antizin. Can survive even the Ice Age if it'd ever hit us."

"Hm-hm. Running zombies down with snowmobiles. That's actually not a bad pastime."

"Throw in some skates. You could literally slice them down when they slip on the ice." Siv giggled at that thought, her tension slightly loosening over the line.

But Jack didn't share her girth. The little hint the teenager had been hiding this entire conversation was so obvious. No way could Jack not notice.

"...Siv, there's one thing I hate in this world. It's liars." There was a pause on the other end. But Jack pressed on. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

The hesitation spoke volumes. "Nothing's wrong... And, and... If you're gonna accuse me of lying, then… Don't even come back here."

"You're lying again," Jack pushed. "You might as well tell me to drop dead. You need someone to talk to. Nobody at the Junction listens."

"...Fuck you," she groaned as a last-ditch effort to push her away. "Forget I even called-"

"No, I won't. Siv, tell me the truth. What's up with the Junction? I can't do my job if you're not being honest with me," Jack stated calmly and swiftly before Siv could have a chance to end the call right there.

Nothing but silence. Though it sounded like Siv was staying. Ok, that was something.

"...I'm not allowed to say anything. Everyone will freak."

"And that is when?" she asked. "Three days? A week later? Everyone will find out about this white lie you guys are telling yourself."

"It's not me who lied. It's…" Siv fell silent.

"Mahir told you not to say anything, did he?"

"...He and the Doc. They don't want to scare the others off." Siv held in a heavy sigh for a few seconds, until she finally let it out, as if she had been holding it in since this morning. "...Everyone's on edge here. We've not gotten any drops for days now."

"I thought you were all well-stocked on Antizin."

A groan from the other end. "That's what Doc says so we won't panic. But lately, we've been running dry. Some are even using Antizin more often than most." Jack hunched down her eyebrows. That little bit of information was a concern to her that Jack muttered, "More?" softly. But she turned her attention back to the conversation after hearing another deep sigh. "It's not looking good, Jack. Some are thinking of leaving and Mahir's trying to reason with them but… Even he's getting frustrated."

"That bad, huh?"

"Totally. Everyone's complaining and I'm getting sick and tired of it. If these GRE fucks and prisoners weren't around, things would be a little easy…" Jack heard a small knock, the mic shrieking a bit from the sudden movement. "I just…dunno what we can do now."

Ah. This was the urgent dilemma Siv was worrying after Jack had left the Junction. A shortage on the suppressor drug was really bad news and it didn't sound good if people were using more and frequent. Another matter Jack took as a concern was how rare drops were here compared to over in the Outskirts. Wasn't this a recent outbreak in Scanderoon? Or did the world quickly decide not to give a shit like they did with Harran?

Then Jack spotted the bay in the distance.

It was there and then she remembered something from Mahir and was struck with an idea. Probably a stupid one.

Yet, she grinned widely at the idea.

"I'll get some Antizin."

"What?"

"That's why you called me, right?"

"Not really. I just wanted to talk to another grown-up that isn't a whiner like everyone here."

"Aww, I've grown on you."

She heard a scoff. "Be serious, Jack," Siv said, trying to brush it off. "I don't have any idea where we can find Antizin."

"But I do. I might know how to get some."

"Wait… How?" There was a wary tone in Siv's voice. "You're not gonna raid into a GRE's pantry or something, are you?"

"Now that sounds like my kind of party. But no," she chided as she fished out an Antizin bottle from her sling bag. "I can get the Antizin. No worries. And I need you to do me a favor in return."

"Anything," Siv said with a bit of hopeful emphasis.

"I'm looking for my boat. It's gone missing and I was hoping your runners could find it."

"...You're leaving us?" There was a thick vibe of disappointment in the teenager's voice. A bit of anger.

Jack could understand why. "The Coast wasn't my final destination, Siv."

"Is it really that important?"

"...Would you leave the Junction if you've heard your family's gone missing? Or do nothing?" she asked. It was best to come out clean rather than just say nothing. She wasn't gonna do that ole cliche in drama shows - basically, never tell the reason why.

"...This about your cousin?" Now her little fit was gone. Just a tiny bit.

"Yup," she answered. "Even if we don't see eye to eye, I can't help but worry about him."

"...Yeah. I can sympathize." Not entirely, that was what Jack could read. She really couldn't forgive her mom that much but she did worry about her

Choosing blood over water was a simple and expected answer unless those family ties were easily severed for reasons. Some families have strong ties, some didn't. It was close to strong ties between Jack and her cousin.

"I'll come back. If he's alive, then good. I'll be back before you know it. And...if he's not… Guess it'll take a little while longer."

"Why?"

The answer was simple. "Well. I'd need to make preparations… He's my cous. No one deserves a half-assed burial..."

Silence. It was an honest answer Siv never expected. There was a pause over the radio as if she was a bit guilty for her earlier angry remark.

"...Hey, Jack," Siv suddenly called out, stopping Jack from taking off her earpiece. "Your cousin is alive. I'm sure of it."

"Yeah… I hope so." That was all Jack could say. Just a bit of deceitful hope until she saw it for herself. But it was making her hate herself even more, a simple means to delude herself and stay focus. She was about to put her comm away when she remembered something. "Oh. One more thing. Can you ask Hubert what's the recent duration between shots? How long before each survivor ask for their next Antizin dosage."

"Recent duration?" Siv repeated. "Sure, I guess. That sounds rather specific."

"I'm just curious," she said a half-truth. "Catch you later then."

"Um, ok?"

Jack hung up. Ok, now the next hassle. Oh boy. She ran a thumb on the fragile Antizin bottle the professor gave her. Would she be able to pull this off?

Well, she's gotta try. She had already committed to the task for Siv. For the Junction.

"Now...where can I find that fighting ring?" she asked herself and got no answer. Only silence and the dull wails. "Damn. Kinda wished Freakoid didn't part ways with me."

He was like a giant hunting dog, right? Most night zombies had horrifying tremendous ways of finding and tracking down humans before tearing them up. Maybe he could have easily looked up likely places humans held themselves up for a wrestle-

"Help! Someone!"

The holler was over the broken wall. She hurried back into the city, spotting a man struggling against a zombie on top of him. With a quick pitch of her weapon, she took two stragglers nearby and then shoved the Biter with a kick. One more swing and off went his head. Once the man had his personal space freed of terror and death, he slowly regained his composure. Jack then noticed the tall-tale full-body suit on him, with the arms tied around his waist.

"Thanks, man. Thought I was a goner… Geezus, these fucking freaks. Day in and day out." He swallowed, catching his breath.

Her grin stretched. Well, talk about coincidence.

"I'm getting out of here-"

"What?" Jack droned, the playful tone stopping him from bolting off. "Just a thanks for saving your life? That's pretty harsh, mate."

"What? Oh, sure." There was a moment of hesitation, the prisoner's eyes darting back and forth. "Yeah. I've got something." He drew his hand down to his pocket. "It's not much."

Then out came a shiv at her.

She anticipated that three moves ago. A duck and a skip were enough to take the prisoner by surprise. Jack was swift - with his unbalanced momentum moving forth, she grabbed hold of his arm and together with force, gave a hard knee into his abdomen.

"Uogh!" Down he went, all the wind out of him. "P-Please! Please! Wait!"

"Nuh-uh, you played your card too early. Now, I don't have all day. I want information," she sang, digging her melee into his throat. "I've heard you boys are having a boxing ring in town. Against some infected, right?"

"What?" the prisoner grunted. "That's just Prince's stupid crew being fucking idiots, man."

"Prince? That's a very cocky self-proclaimed kind of name."

"He's the one running the prison. Ever since the guards left. I want no part in their craziness."

"But I do. So what's it about?"

"Are you mad?" Nope, she wasn't as she neared closer into his space. "...You'll have to through six consecutive rounds and come out alive. Winner walks away with all the bets."

"Does that include Antizin?"

"Of course! It's a faster way of getting a bunch rather than heading for those drops. But you'd have to be dense to try it. They toss you against big brutes."

"Hm," she hummed. "Sounds like my cup of tea."

"Are you fucking crazy?!" he hissed. "You're fighting against zombies!"

"Where is the latest ring match?"

The thug glimpsed at her, baffled. But she was dead set on taking this tournament head on, her catty grin staying unbroken. "...At the shipyard, near the cruise station. B-But you need admission anyway. Or a pass from the boss."

Jack's calm smile grew wider. "Let me figure that one out for myself." She purposely gave two pats to his cheek, like praising a dog for a good job. She then stepped back, twirling her weapon like a baton. "Now scat."

He didn't have to be told twice. The man galloped up on his feet and ran as far away as his legs could possibly take him. This woman was insane.

Yes, she was. And she was crazy enough to go to a criminal-filled dockyard.

"Alright, Jackie. Let's see how this goes."


OH, where the fucking hell was the way to the Slums?!

Crane had been searching for an hour but just as that woman explained, Scanderoon's exits were all blocked or difficult to walk through. Even from the clock tower, right center of the city, all he could see was mountains and the ocean for miles. No familiar trail to follow, or an easy path to cross over the rocky borders or a manhole for him to crawl under the stone roads. And like hell was he going to risk a swim with this new body.

Now he wished he hadn't left that kickboxer. When he heard the word 'boat', he thought it'd be a faster and easier means to get to the Slums. He even had the idea to take it from her.

No. He had made his decision. Because his gut was telling him she was going to get him killed for sure. By accident, arrogance or sheer stupidity.

"Ok," he assured himself. He had no compass so all he could do was figure out which orientation the Slums could be. "Scanderoon is, um, Southeast from Harren. Sooo...Northwest?" He directed himself to where he believed was the right way. "I think Slums'...that way."

To be honest, he was relying on dumb luck to find the way.

Up ahead near the coastline's edge was a hydroelectric power plant - the city's source of power still running on its own. There didn't seem to be any humans stationed there. Nothing that he could see highlighted brightly - he wasn't sure friend or enemy but he wasn't going to test it in case his zombie vision was limited by distance.

However, he was going to check to see if there were any bypasses near there.

"Where there's water, there's the sewage system." Crane shot himself clean across five streets. The faster he'd leave this city, the quicker he'd be in Harren.

The only problem was his surroundings, scraping at his guilt. Throughout his trips, he was pointing out the similarities. It was no different than in Harran - from afar, he spotted behind walls someone on the ground being mugged by two individuals. Off at a building were a large group of people, big and small. Not the one he spotted near the overpass.

He honestly wanted to help. But not like this. If he could, he would. Just not as a freak.

Crane shook his head. Try to forget about this city, the Tower was more important. Sunlight was burning out-

Suddenly, the infected version of Jade launched at him. Screaming.

"Gargh!" He shrieked, finding himself back on top of a roof. Not in the past. The sudden flash made him grip his head as he fell on his knees. Shit, what was that? It was like something took the wheel in his body and turned a sharp right for a crash.

Something was snaking its way back into him. He could feel it stronger and his own consciousness was fading. This felt different from the previous night he went out looking for supplies. In fact, it felt like the first time.

When he was turned. At the playground. Being told to stalk and kill on unfortunate souls.

"N-No." Was he reverting back? Why now? He didn't understand any of this.

He had to keep going. If he'd lose his grip now, Crane would never get back to Old Town. He had to push this other side back as long as possible until he was sure everyone was alright. From a distance.

But his world was swimming again. The whispers were getting louder. Let them take over again.

"Fuck off, you!" he snarled at himself. If he must, he'd gladly slam his head on the ground again.

Then Crane's vision steadied enough for him to take note something fifteen feet away.

An open manhole. A way down to the undergrounds. Where it would lead, he wasn't sure. But the underground would be the best place for him - best for everyone from him when he'd turn savage. Desperately, Crane clawed his way towards it. He had to try, hurry and duck in before the night would take him in again.

Then Crane heard it. The sound of something fired and the whistling of something big.

Suddenly, thick ropes covered him, his arms and legs. He was thrown back, his footing lost as he fell down two stories. "Oomph! Gaaaah..."

And out of the blues, four men in brown suits came from behind. Where did they come from? When he started to lose it?

"Got it! Got a big one!" one yelled.

"Call in the Director. Tonight's show's going to be one heck of a killer."

Show? Killer?

What the fuck were these people planning to do with him? Even more alarming was the fact they purposely captured him. With ropes. For what, he wasn't going to find out! Crane quickly sunk his teeth down into the trap, sawing off the threads. Fine! He'd let his other self help him this one time-

"Shit! It's cutting through the ropes! Shoot it!"

Pif!

"Gak!" Crane felt a needle prick at his neck. He pulled the thing off to find a dart. A tranquilizer dart.

Oh shit. No, no, no!

His body instantly went numb. The whispers were getting softer. The drug was enough to knock out an elephant, even an infected-turned Crane. It became harder for him to see the four prisoners towering over the weak Hunter, their smiles distorting and warping.

No. Let me go. He needed to get back.

"Alright, big guy," one of them said. "You're gonna be our main attraction tonight. Make us filthy rich."

Crane really wished he had never left the woman. She was sounding like a better choice than these bastards.

The crook then whacked his pipe onto Crane's head.

And he was down and out again, into the darkness.


Jack managed to reach the dockyard before the sun was close to a line, the dim rays seething behind a small cruise ship parked near the station. She could hear the cheers and hollers over the giant containers - used as reinforced walls for a man-made outpost. And not too far from where she entered the shipyard was the entrance, heavily guarded.

There were other things she should be taking into consideration - she was dealing with men doing the time for petty or dangerous crimes, free from the strict clutches of authority - but she put them at the far back of her mind. Jack would have to work her way around the problems when she got inside.

"Evening, mates." The guards immediately drew out their weapons at a warning level. But Jack wasn't fazed. "I'm here for that fighting ring you got at the back."

At first, there was no budging. Only waves of laughter and sneers from the muscular men. Yeah, yeah, let it all out. She's been through this in the past.

One thug strode out from the entrance. The first problem.

"Really? A woman?" he taunted. "C'mon. Why throw your life away? You should be giving us some sugar instead."

Jack rolled her eyes as the men laughed with him. Of course, there'd be those kinds of sickos.

"Why don't you come to the back with me? I can protect you from the Biters. Give you a roof, food, Antizin. Just a nice night together with us. What do you say-?"

"Pssh." The thug frowned at the sudden chuckle Jack tried to keep it. Then she let it all out. She just couldn't take this bloke seriously. "Protect me? You need to protect yourself from me, boy. Don't you know who you're dealing with?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

Now she frowned. "What is with people today? Did my name fall off the map or something? Look, mate. I don't have the bloody time to be keeping you comfort because you can't sleep without bailing your eyes out," she droned. "And..." Her eyes trailed up and down. "You're not even my type. So step off. I don't have all day to be dealing with a brat like you."

The insult clearly took him back. Then he sized himself up with an angry glare. "Listen here, you fucking bitch." He stepped in front of her, grabbing for her collar. She could see it in his eyes he wanted more than respect. He hadn't seen a woman for days too. "You better listen to me if you don't want to get hurt. All you're good for is staying in the kitchen and the bed. Not pissing me off. So why don't we start again without your fucking attitude-"

Without warning, she lashed out with a swift elbow to his side. The thug dropped down, realizing too late what had happened to him. Jack was already on top, seizing his arm behind his back. The guards pointed up their guns, unsure how to assert the situation.

"Get her off me! Argh!" The pull on his arm tightened. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"I'm not here to be your little toy, twat. I'm here for the tournament," she demanded calmly. "So unless you're the boss of this place, I strongly suggest you shut up and let me through."

He said nothing. Just a bypasser trying to make a quick buck on the side.

"Good. Oh, and one more thing."

She shoved down hard.

Crack!

"Aargh!" he screamed, feeling like a hot iron rod pierced through his shoulder. His arm went completely limp. "AAAAH! AAAAGH!"

"I can do a lot more than just cooking, boy." She shot up, leaving the prisoner to his pain. And like a simple switch in her character, Jack shone a wide grin to the guards. Like a hyena having doubled down on her prey before turning back with a cackling smile. "Now. I want to take part in your boxing ring."

The men obviously looked at her like she was crazy, preparing for a death wish. One scoffed loudly, "...Even if we did, there's no way a woman like you is going to survive."

"A woman like me?" There was an odd tone to her droning. She was a hungry predator ready to play with her live food before the sinking of teeth. She neared close to the talkative guard, whose stiff body visibly showed that he had a hint of fear. It didn't matter the gun in his hands was leveled at her chest - he clearly understood this woman knew her game. No way was he going down with a broken shoulder like that other thug. "Mate. I've been kicking zombies and humans' arses for the longest time. And you've seen my demonstration with your friend. Do I need to show more of my skills?"

Oh, he definitely didn't need more to see. "You were on TV, weren't you?"

"Finally. Someone recognized me. I don't need to go through the trouble of introducing myself and going through some trial by fire. Now. Are you gonna let me pass?"

Again, no budging. "You have to pay admission-"

Jack lifted up the Antizin bottle like a gambler with her chips. "Would this be enough?"

The expression in the man's stern face told her, yes it was, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Finally, with passing whispers from one man to another, the guards gave her access as she tossed the bottle to one of them. "Take care of your friend too. Or leave him out for the zombies. I don't care."

The bottle was a small loss the moment she gave her admission fee. A terrible stunt she had to do. It could have helped some other soul, anyone. But if all would go well, then that one tiny waste could make a big difference.

At least, that was what she was gunning for. Now she had to be extremely careful - she was inside their territory.

"You've gotta be looney to be coming here."

Beyond the gates was one person that looked like he ran the place. Not the boss, probably the supervisor. Maybe a quartermaster.

"And? What does that say about you lot pitching yourself against the infected?"

"Hmph. Don't put me in with these numbskulls," the man added. "I'm just here to make sure everything runs smoothly. They can bet their lives away." He took a hard glance at her. "And I'm not gonna convince you to think otherwise, am I, miss?"

"Miss? Ugh," she choked. "All I want is more Antizin. That's the honest truth."

"By betting away your only bottle?"

She simply shrugged. "You gotta break an egg to make an omelette, right?"

No chuckle out of him. "Your funeral. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Then how about the rules? Nothing below the belt, mister-?"

"Duman. Don't call me mister. Rules are fists only. No weapons. You can do whatever you want with the undead. Just beat all six rounds and you got yourself the trophy."

"No breaks in between fights?"

"Hmph. You can get a break when you're dead or after the fight. Like I said, your funeral," he pushed.

A clanking sound caught her attention to an opened container, the strong whiff of iron coming thickly from it. She peeked in, spotting a big guy wearing a black apron and holding a large cleaver. A real-life butcher from some horror movie. On the floor laid chopped up Biters and buckets full of red blobs, flesh, and piss. She wondered if some of those limbs were once unlucky criminals who bit more than they could chew in the ring.

"What's that for?" Jack asked, watching the butcher fill the blood up in sealed packets before placing them into a crate and slipping them outside with his boot.

"Something to entice our feral contestants to stay inside the ring. We've had a couple try to climb over the fence. Gets them into a blood frenzy during the nighttime."

"It's blood. They're not vampires," she pointed.

"None of my business how they work. Head over to the checkpoint for your turn. Five minutes before the first round. Give these idiots a good time, would you?"

Meaning a good fight or a good death? Because that smirk from him was pointing at the latter. "But of course."

Duman went off to his business, writing down Jack's name on the clipboard. Everyone else was distracted with their own things, unaware that she strolled closely to the crate. The blood bag felt disgustingly warm in her hands. "Ew."

"OOOH! And down he goes! That's gonna leave a mark. That is if he gets out alive, gents!" cried out a booming voice through the speaker. Sounded like the person before her wasn't having a swell time.

"Don't stall for too long, Jackie," she said quietly to herself. "Finish it quick and get out."

Easy said than done. Jack was already examining her surroundings as she headed towards the checkpoint. Tops were covered up and sides were barricaded that not even a mouse could get out. More importantly, she didn't see any place for all the food, water, meds and Antizin to be stored away.

But she heard the sound of the ocean under the cheers. So this little outpost had a side right into the waters.

"Hold on." A guard at the checkpoint held out his palm with a nod to a basket beside him. "Weapons out, lady."

And here was another hassle - a dangerous decision to go weaponless surrounded by thick-headed crooks. But rules were rules. Jack chunked away her melee and all the valuable items she carried for survival but that wasn't enough. The guard then went to check out her sling bag and her little belt pouch.

"Heh. A little speed?" He held out a small brown pill bottle. "Mind sharing it with us?"

She shook her head. "You do know that's not even opium or whatever you guys like to smoke these days. But go ahead. Don't know how a woman's pill's gonna affect you."

The thug's one eye widened and his voice got stuck in his throat.

"Actually, I'd like to see it for myself. How does a man handle the side-effects? Less sex drive-"

"Stop. Enough," he demanded, almost unable to compose himself. He gave her back the bottle. "Ahem. Go on right in."

"Much obliged," Jack pledged and strolled into the tunnel. Once she was a good distance from being heard, she held in a chuckle. "Men. Always overthinking. And these aren't even contraceptive pills."

She did spin the truth. That was what she liked to do. As long as it wasn't the full truth, she could get away with pretty much anything. And this time, she was lucky. If that thug had managed to take this bottle away, then she was going find herself in some serious trouble. Well, maybe break a few bones in the process.

"Gotta make sure I don't lose this," she said to herself, slipping the bottle back in her bag. Because she was halfway done with the bottle. If she could pace her taking out a bit longer until she could get a stash, then it'd be ok.

She put her focus on the upcoming match, first stopped by another thug guard at the end. Out in the center of a ring was a fallen prisoner, stomach ripped open and head mashed to mush. There were the sounds of a big bastard being tasered down nearby, maybe being put back into its cage. And presenting on top of the unlucky fellow's corpse was what she believed to be the referee. Just another criminal but wearing a black vest.

"Aw, looks like Sabir's demise came too quickly. But don't worry. The night is still young. Let's get this baaall rolling," he droned over the mic before heading towards Jack's direction, shining a rather pearly-white grin. "Oh. Hello, there, Miss Celebrity," he ushered with the kind of tone you'd hear on shows or the supermarket. Had to make the show interesting to get the crowds going.

He then held out his hand dramatically as if to take hers like a gentleman and kiss it. "I'm the show director of this git, Aslan. After the mighty lion. But call me Director instead. You must be the famous Mad Jack."

She didn't accept the gesture, hands in her pockets. "So you've heard about my reputation?"

"Who doesn't? You're one fire of a woman." And now she wanted to gag. End her misery, quick. "And a good opportunity to do business with. We should strike a deal together, you and I. Once you manage to survive this, of course. What do you say about doing this full time?"

"Thanks, but I've already done deals in the past."

"Ah. Of course, your retirement. Such a shame."

"I'd disagree with you there. I'm doing a lot better these days," she chided. "The pay is promising."

"Right, right." That seemed to go over his head. Alsan, or 'Director', roped his arm around her shoulders. "Y'know. We're stuck here with this outbreak. And as people have been fighting in this city for days now, crowds need something for entertainment. Relief from our predicament. But these competitors just die too easily. Can't even last for a minute before they're sobbing for their mummies and daddies. But you can stand longer than them."

"Uh huh," Jack muttered and unhinged herself from the clingy guy. She knew where this was going - she had been there before. "I'm just here for one night. That's all."

"Alright." Director held up his hands. "I respect a woman's decision. But remember, the offer still stays." He turned back, listening to the impatient yells. "Well. Time to give them a good show, Jackie."

"Please don't call me that," she grumbled, feeling an unwanted tinge across her spine. But the Director didn't hear her and simply stepped forward into the ring.

"Gents and more gents, we've got a very interesting guest tonight! Three years with the world championship title-"

"Four," she groaned, holding out four fingers. "Four years."

"And the most terrifying female kickboxer of the 21st century. The Wild Dog herself is going to blow you right off your feet with more than her teeth. So put out all the bets, people and give it a round of applause foooor Mad Jack!"

Out into the ring, she stepped out as Aslan hurried inside the entrance. Behind her, the gate shut tight and the men behind the barred fences roared loudly. Some hooligans tossed in some catcalling. And oh, they were lucky to have the fence blocking her because she'd do some serious damage on them.

Though, frankly, it felt like she was back in her glorious days. Just a bit. People back then were shouting her name. The difference was some wanted her dead inside this ring.

That feeling, however, was short lived when she heard groans from the other side of the circle. Just like the exit she came out, something was ramming its arms at a second closed gate.

From the sounds of it, it was a shrimp. The first easy one for newcomers like herself.

Jack readied up her fists as the gate opened.

"It'sssss SHOWTIME!" the Director's voice buzzed loud through the speakers and the crowd's joy rammed it higher.

Yup, this was definitely a stupid idea, Jackie.


A/N: Hello, people! Sorry for taking a while longer than expected, because I was more focused on doing Dying Light art stuff and well, life. And this chapter was a tiny bit difficult, mostly because I've been trying to figure out the locations these two nitwits are going their separate ways XD Ah yes. When you have two characters who don't agree at the start to create drama only for them to know they have the same goals later.

Moreover, the ring location is actually one of many small outposts for an objective idea. There's a story reason why drops are so few (besides the GRE and prisoners are getting them) so as a side quest objection like in Dying Light, you can find huge stashes of them in places like these. It's a bit like Far Cry's seizing outposts. Another thing is there are still future ring side quests Jack can take even after this one. So yeah, there are many other ways to get more supplies than just the drops. Though you'll still have to deal with zombies, GRE or crooks. Pick your poison.

Anyhow, you can check out my art dump over at my tumblr (le siiiigh, take out the spaces in this link:

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vickie-believe .tumblr post / 172370686186 / dying-light-art-dump-phew-d-it-took-me-a-while)

If you can't access because FFN is being horrid to this link, my link will be in my profile. :l

I'll try to post the next chapter asap (after some checking). Enjoy!