"Play it again." He ordered, taking a sip of his drink. The grunt pressed a button, and the video played back again. The video of the battle royale that occurred yesterday in the arena. The battle royale that would determine the fate of the Tyger Claws.
Specifically, the footage of the camera that was focused on the apprentice of Adam Smasher, David Martinez. A streetkid of no particular note before becoming a rising star in the local edgerunning scene and then being recruited by one of the most dangerous men in the world. He rolled a vintage coin along his knuckles as he watched the footage again, eyes narrowed in thought.
Of the sixteen participants backed by the various executives and factions of the Tyger Claws, only eight had managed to secure a position in the finals through a combination of begrudging teamwork and the absence of their greatest enemies. Exactly half of the finalists were not members of the Tyger Claws, half of them had no affiliation to them. It was not ideal, but the situation was still salvageable.
Their greatest foes, Maelstrom, had refrained from sending a single fighter to the event. That was a cause of great suspicion, and members had already been redistributed to watch the borders of their territory and holdings just in case a plot was brewing. It was almost fortunate that Maelstrom did not participate, for it was likely that their chosen fighter would have gotten a finalist position as well.
Maelstrom was many things, crass, mongrels, ill-bred, psychotic, and superstitious. One thing they absolutely were not was weak.
The other gangs had only sent token fighters to the event, only three such warriors made it into the finals. One from the jumped-up prostitutes, one from the wannabe cartel, and the last from the infantry rejects. They were unlikely to be a threat, given that Tyger Claws put more emphasis into melee combat than any other gang in Night City.
Three of the finalists were probably corporate plants. One definitely was, the wrestler from central america openly announced his affiliations for Mexican Metals along with his loud advertisements for their various products, the other two were likely but with no direct evidence. One, a hapa woman from the NUSA, and the other being a male chinese immigrant. He was willing to bet a thousand eurodollars that they were plants for Militech and Kang-Tao.
One finalist was an independent, a frequent arena-goer who went by the name of 'Rat'. A former champion, but ultimately tied to no greater party except his own survival and the thrill of the violence. In essence, a non-threat, he had probably only joined for the fun of it.
And the last…
He focused on the movements that David Martinez made, a sort of spinning strike that bisected a fighter that leapt at him in a clumsy kick. He noted the degree of acceleration at the bottom of the screen corner. It was faster than any sandevistan commercially available that he knew of. He frowned.
…Was the apprentice of Adam Smasher. That was all that truly needed to be said.
Among all the finalists of this event, he was the biggest threat by far. Roughly two-thirds of his body was chrome, top-of-the-line chrome from the private facilities of Arasaka itself. That was in addition to a demonstrated immense talent for combat and an iron jaw.
The iron jaw was a rather legendary trait that few fighters had. It was first coined by pre-datakrash boxers, but the trait had always existed among humanity. Most fights end when one of the fighters goes unconscious from pain or shock or whatever mechanism dictated such. Very rarely, a fighter will have an iron jaw, and become a vastly greater threat because of it.
It was, in simple terms, a fighter that could not be knocked out. While a fight was on, and adrenaline was going through their system, they were impossible to suppress with physical trauma. Death or chemical suppressants were required to put them down, pain would do nothing.
He pursed his lips as the footage cut to a massive warrior delivering a devastating right hook to Martinez while he was distracted. The footage slowed. He saw a spray of red paint the ground in an arc behind him, he saw several cuts explode open on Martinez's face…
Martinez stomped a foot, using the force of the punch that just tore a hole in his cheek to deliver a spin-kick that turned his attacker's head into an explosion of pulp. Martinez immediately recovered his balance, and jumped at another fighter. The counter-attack took less than a second.
Theoretically speaking, assuming Adam Smasher kept his word, his apprentice would not become leader of the Tyger Claws if he won. The dishonor would be great, but not impossible to recover from.
The glass of synth-wine cracked in his hand.
Not impossible to recover from, but he would do everything he could to prevent it. The thought infuriated him like little else. His fury was cold as his blood, which was fortunate for the matters of preserving face.
If things went well, he would pull out or be eliminated before fighting any members of the Tyger Claws. That was highly unlikely however.
In his own estimation, there were perhaps three finalists among the Tyger Claws who might defeat Martinez. The first was the commoner-boy, Kusanagi Jun, backed by executive Fujimura. He had a sandevistan, cybernetic limbs, and a monoblade. In addition, he was perhaps the most experienced when it came to fights in that arena, seeing as it was his primary profession.
The second was that torture-toy, Ranko, backed by vice-executive Jotaro Shobo. Backed was something of a strong word, that broken thing was little more than his favorite plaything. She was violent, caustic, and used an array of combat stims that he provided for her. She wasn't especially experienced, but she had killed stronger enemies than herself before, it was certainly possible here.
The third was, of course, himself. He had the speed, the wits, and the reflexes required to make the kill. That, and the neurotoxins provided for him by his own backer, Taki Kazo. If he could land a single blow on Martinez, then the neurotoxin would probably secure a kill…
Ho-Hum… He probably shouldn't aim to permanently kill the apprentice of Adam Smasher. He would have to downgrade to a lesser venom to make sure that the medical professionals were capable of reviving him. Against Martinez that was, all other participants were more than fair to target.
He was capable of killing everyone else there without issue. All he needed was one cut. Of course… it wouldn't hurt to have some of the more threatening competition suffer unfortunate accidents beforehand…
"Play it again." he commanded, and the lackey was quick to obey. In the dimly lit room of a smokey chamber, Yamada Oto prepared for the fights to come. His yellow optics, narrow in consideration, drank in the footage yet again.
—
"EL TIGRE! EL TIGRE! EL TIGRE!" The crowd of his home city cried as he stepped out of the plane. He pumped his arms, puffed out his chest, and crouched.
"YES I AM!" He yelled with all his might as he extended from his crouch, leaping through the air and spinning. In the air, he activated his sandevistan to give him time to calculate his landing. Once determined, he let it deactivate and fell two stories in a perfect roll and bounced to stand before the cheering people of Mexico City. He let his cybernetic legs and arms absorb the impact and diffuse it throughout his body.
It hurt, but disappointing his people would hurt more.
Throwing his mighty fists into the air, his arm-mounted cannons extended and shot forth two colorful rockets that flew up a great distance, and then exploded out into two faces. One of a roaring masked man, one of a roaring tiger. "EL TIGRE GRANDE!" He roared over the crowd, letting his mighty voice fill the air.
Necklaces of beads and flowers were thrown at him as he walked, fists raised into the air. One young woman threw herself at him, and catching her, he placed her up upon his mighty bicep. She waved and cheered in exuberation as he strode down the red walkway leading to the vehicle Senor Martinez had waiting for him.
A woman threw her child at him and he carefully caught the boy with his other hand. Throwing the boy up by the back of his little vest, he caught the child in the air with his mighty hand and held him above the adoring crowd. The little boy with the El Tigre mask looked ecstatic and cheered as he did.
He was El Tigre Grande, world-champion luchador, symbol of the Mexican people, and hero to his nation. His mighty body would bear the weight of their dreams until it killed him.
His skin was bronze, his flesh was iron, his bones were steel. His mustache was grand and finely combed, his eyes were bright and sparkled, his grin was wide and infectious.
The people of Mexico needed a symbol of hope. He was all too glad to be that symbol.
Finally at the end of the long carpet, he lowered the boy down, ruffled his dark brown hair with a grin, and patted him on the shoulders. One of his agents nodded and took the boy's hand, walking off to escort the boy back to his mother.
Flexing his bicep to bounce the woman off his arm, he caught her and spun. Lowering her deeply to the floor, he caught her in a burning kiss for several long seconds. Breaking free, he quickly raised her and spun her around. Dazed, she stumbled for a moment, only supported by his strong hand. Once she had regained her composure, he let her go.
He turned, and with a final flex and roar, left the people of Mexico to enter the long black car.
He had to squeeze through the door, a deliberate choice on the part of vehicles chosen for him to make him seem even grander than he was. All to give them hope, all to improve the standing of his country. There were many polite fictions surrounding him, and he strived to uphold them all as best he could. A man who was larger than life. A man who represented the heights that their people could achieve through great effort.
On the other side of the limo seating was his sponsor, a terrifically old man in a fine black suit, resting his head on an ornate cane. His skin was tanned and weathered, his hair was gray and thin, his eyes were heavily-lidded. Dalton Martinez, long-time CEO of Mexican Metals, and the man who raised him from poverty and into his current status.
"Senor Martinez." He respectfully greeted, nodding his head at the much older man. Martinez nodded back at him, saying "Daniel. It's good to see you well. How was your trip to the Ring of Night City?"
"My flight was just as comfortable as they always are. My only complaint was that I nearly nodded off, it was too comfortable!" He joked back. Martinez gave a small grin at this.
"I shall make sure to make the next flight less comfortable, for you then."
Daniel raised his hands quickly. "Ah, rather than that, please shorten the skirts of all the hostesses, that is sure to keep me awake!"
A chuckle was had by both men at their brief bantering.
Dalton Martinez had raised him out of poverty with a specific condition attached. To become a symbol of the fine craftsmanship of Mexican Metals. He would fight in the ring to become champion, backed by the finest cybernetics that Mexican Metals could source and produce. To become, as others might call it, an advertisement.
Over time, Daniel had accumulated victory after victory. He had become a hero to his fans, a rising star and eventually, champion. Dalton Martinez, always seeing value in good publicity, had decided to partner with the government of Mexico. Mexican Metals would receive federal support on all levels, and El Tigre would become El Tigre Grande, the representative of his nation as a whole.
He had no reason to reject this offer. He loved his people, imperfections and all. Why would he refuse a task to help them? His mighty arms had supported their dreams for ten years since. He would continue to shoulder their hopes for as long his shoulders could bear the weight.
The event in Night City was good publicity, both for marketing and to expand the legend of El Tigre Grande. He didn't necessarily have to win, but he couldn't lose disgracefully. He would either achieve victory or lose to incredible circumstances, anything less would shatter the hopes of his people.
Eventually, their chuckling died down, and both men looked somewhat more seriously at one another.
Eventually, Martinez spoke. "So, what have you learned of the matter?"
Nodding, he pulled a chip from his neck, and inserted it into a console to the side. A holographic image expanded outwards revealing a handsome youth with cybernetic limbs holding a helmet in his hands, grinning to an unseen target.
Martinez studied for a long moment, taking in all features of the face he was presented with.
"He has his grandmother's eyes…" He spoke softly. "I'm sure of it."
"The agents were unable to gain a dna sample." Daniel replied equally soft.
"No need, I know the result." Martinez replied firmly, still staring at the holographic image. "My runaway went off and got a girl pregnant after all. The boy is the spitting image of his father."
He shook his head. "...Boy didn't even have the courtesy of telling me…"
Daniel didn't speak, letting the old man slowly come to terms with such. They weren't sure if the images before were edited or not, so he had been given the mission to go and observe the boy in person, coming back with a memory chip. Just to make sure it was unaltered evidence, and to get a dna sample as well. The second mission was a failure, but the first was an easy success.
"...And now, my grandson is under the thumb of Arasaka…" He frowned deeply, staring at nothing. "I could have protected the boy, even if my son wanted to run from his responsibilities."
He sighed, looking very old. "I could have protected him. Given him an education, taken care of his financial needs… He's family, and that matters."
"He was given a strong name, at the very least. He seems to be well and happy as well." Daniel replied, attempting to cheer up his sponsor a tad.
His sponsor nodded at that. "David is a good name." He spoke in agreement.
It was quiet in the vehicle for a time.
—
-ACT OF UNMATCHED TERRORISM IN INDIA AS MAJOR DAMS ARE DESTROYED WITH NUCLEAR WEAPONS. CASUALTIES EXPECTED TO SURPASS ONE-MILLION BY SUBJECT MATTER EXPERTS.-
-FLOODING IN INDIA CONTINUES TO RAGE, WATERS NOT EXPECTED TO LOWER FOR DAYS IF NOT WEEKS TO COME. INDIAN GOVERNMENT HAS YET TO MAKE AN OFFICIAL STATEMENT ON THE MATTER.-
-EMERGENCY COMMITTEE FORMED TO ADDRESS THE MATTER OF AID TO BE GRANTED TO HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF INDIANS CAUGHT IN THE RAGING DISASTER.-
-NON-GOVERNMENT ORGANIZATION, THE ECOLOGICAL EMERGENCY GRANT, OFFERS ONE-BILLION EURODOLLARS WORTH OF IMMEDIATE RELIEF IN TOTAL IN THE FORM OF EMERGENCY PERSONNEL, FOOD AND MEDICAL SUPPLIES, AND EMERGENCY SHELTERS.-
-THOUSANDS OF HINDU GURUS CALL FOR THEIR FOLLOWERS TO PROVIDE WHATEVER AID THEY CAN TO INDIA. CONTROVERSIAL GURUS DECLARE THE TERRORIST ACTION 'A PUNISHMENT FROM THE HEAVENS'-