Big in Japan Martin Kane An illegal bare-knuckle fighting ring gets a new champion. --- Author's note: Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for Readers & Writers. I invite anyone to send any comments, good or bad, should they wish to. I'm always interested in what others think of my little tales. Copyright is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. --- The Asian introduced him to Jimmy. "This is Jimmy, he’s an associate of Victor Smith." Jimmy was a suited man, the typical cliché of gangster chic. He had learnt his fashion sense from American movies, and learnt badly. He looked exactly like what he was - a dumb thug who had got to where he was today not through brains but through luck, muscle and viciousness. "Jimmy, this is the gentleman I was telling you about, Mr William Old." They shook hands, formally but friendly. "Please, call me Bill." "Nice to meet ya," Jimmy assured him in a rough cockney accent. "Sit down, I’ll get you a drink." A twenty appeared in his palm and he passed it to the Asian with an almost imperceptible motion. "Do the honours son." "Certainly, and for yourself?" "Na, I’m doing OK. Got to watch the booze, me misses has got me on this new diet." He patted the expanse of his belly, stretching the cotton of his shirt. "Think she’s got a point actually." The Asian took the orders from Bill and from the crony besides Jimmy. He disappeared to the bar, leaving Bill alone in the presence of a man who, if the stories were true, had killed with his bare hands. "So Billy," Jimmy began, leaning onto the table between them. "I hear you been doing well with our scheduled fights." "Yes." "Not spreading the word too widely, I hope." "Oh course not. Mainly I deal with foreign businessmen, over here for one reason or another. Part of my brief is to keep them entertained when they’re not working. Some require different entertainment than others." "Man cannot live on bread alone," Jimmy agreed sagely. "Quite. That’s how I met the Asian. It’s been a mutually beneficial relationship." As if summoned, the Asian appeared, putting a whisky in front of Bill, a Coke in front of the crony and a beer in front of the empty place at the table which he now took up. "Billy here’s just telling us about all the business you’ve been doing together," Jimmy announced, smiling, "but that’s the past. Let’s get to the business we’re gonna do now." They talked specifics, Jimmy evidentially having decided already that Bill was good for business. "I’ll provide the venue, we split the entrance take but I’ll use me own bookies," Jimmy surmised. "I hear you got a fighter of your own you want to try out." "Yes, top level." "I don’t normally look outside for the meat." "This one comes with a fan base, I’ve got an audience of Chinamen who want to see a clash of the titans. East verses West. I want to use them for the title match-up." "Are you talking about a straight match?" Jimmy asked, surprised. "Well, that one I was going to leave to your discretion," Bill said. "In truth, my fighter just wants the chance to make a name over here. If needs be, they’ll take the bribe and go down as instructed." "You sure about that? I don’t like unstable elements. I’ve met chop-sueys before and they go in for all this honour bullshit." "They’ll do what I say." Jimmy looked confused. "Why you doing that?" "Doing what?" "All this ‘they’ shit. ‘They’ll do what I say’? Why don’t you say ‘he’?" Bill smiled, he’d been caught. "I didn’t say ‘he’ because my fighter is a woman." Jimmy took a few seconds to digest this. "You want to arrange a legitimate fight, between my best and some slanty-eyed chick?" "Yes." "You’ve seen the fights? You know what goes on?" "I’ve also seen the girl in action. She’s good." Jimmy looked unconvinced. "She’s knows the score and knows the game. What’s important is that I have clients waiting to buy a plane ticket just to see this happen. She’s big in Japan, as they say." Jimmy thought about this some more. "OK," he said finally, "show me numbers and we’ll see what we see." The details were settled, the necessary arrangements made. The venue in question was an underground parking lot, currently closed for renovations. Jimmy himself was in attendance, something he rarely did. But he wanted to see this. He’d met the woman in question, intrigued by the idea of a woman fighter. The meeting had been earlier that evening, in his hotel room. Bill had knocked tentatively on the door and the crony answered. Silently, he let Bill and the Chinese girl into the hotel room. Jimmy was in a silk gown, enjoying a cigar and a glass of cognac. "Hey Billy, come on in. And you must be the little wildcat?" he said. "Jimmy, I want you to meet Su Lin." She was tall for a Chinese woman, maybe five-nine, five-ten. She wore a traditional style kimono, wrapped about her body. Its shape was flat and featureless; its design rich with gold and red. Jimmy was instantly struck but how delicate and pretty she was - an exquisite beauty. It was such a contrast to the pummelled faces of all the fighters he employed. She smiled and nodded, inclining her whole body. Long hair, black as pitch, flowed to cover her face, as smooth and slick as oil. When she straightened, she twisted her head, first one way and then the other, hooking her tresses behind her shoulder with a delicate touch of slender fingers. Jimmy was instantly intoxicated, but he was still a businessman. His intentions for the woman did not change. "You know how we play the game," Jimmy said, his voice low and dangerous. "But tonight, it’s going to be a straight fight. No falls, no bribes, no dives." Her expression remained neutral except for the slight smile that traced across her lips. This woman was subtle. "You want a name in my racket? OK, out of respect for Billy-boy here I’m willing to give you a chance. I’ll offer you a placement as one of my name fighters. You want to work for me? All you have to do is survive tonight." Again, that slight smile. Jimmy turned his attention to Bill. He took an envelope he had hidden somewhere on his person and handed it to him. "And you. This is yours. I appreciate all you’ve done. You and me, we’ll do business again." He wandered over to the television set, picking up the remote on top of it. The set flickered to life at the touch of a button. "But I think you both should know how serious a man I am," he told them. "I don’t want to come on like the heavy thug putting the frighteners on people, but I believe in fair warning." The picture showed a makeshift ring, two fighters circling each other, bare chested and bare knuckled. "This guy on the left was working for me recently. Until we discovered he was an undercover cop. I don’t take kindly to betrayal. We thought up a fitting punishment. He wanted to pose as a fighter so we set him up against Ben. That’s the other guy. He’s the one you’ll be fighting tonight." The fight was short. The cop was a competent fighter but way out of his depth here. He was defensive but Ben broke through it and landed a crushing blow to the side of his head. It was over then, the rest a perfunctorily clean-up. That decisive blow had knocked the cop senseless, sending him dizzy - punch drunk. His movements after that were slow and stupid and Ben took his time, obviously enjoying the easy victory. The mushy object that was left once Ben finally retreated was quite clearly no longer alive. Both Bill and Su Lin were sobered by the sadistic spectacle. Jimmy however seemed unmoved by it. He took a fat lug on his cigar. "So, until tonight then." And that night the audience was wild. They stood behind the ropes shouting and cheering the bloody battles played out for their entertainment. Bets were placed, money swapped hands. A good time was had. When Ben stepped up to one corner of the ring, the baying crowds recognised him and roared. He was the favourite, the strongest and the most lethal. He’d never lost a fight in his career. He always put on a good show. Rumour had it that his victim tonight was to be a woman. All those who had heard and believed the rumour anticipated a short match. Excepting the select few, whose invites had been secured by Bill. Their anticipation was of something else altogether. Ben was stripped to the waist. He wore silk shorts and looked like a boxer, except he had no gloves on his scabbed, bruised fists. He was muscled - hard and powerful. His hair was shaven to the scalp as was common in no-holds-barred fighters. Give away no potential weakness. A woman appeared at the other end and the crowd was stunned. Surely this couldn’t be right. Su Lin was still and silent. She still wore the kimono. It was down to her bare feet, secured about her waist with a broad, silken belt. Her lush hair was secured in a neat ponytail. Ben posed for the audience, flexing, waving fists in the air and jumping in circles. The crowd loved it and he drank down their admiration. He bounced forward into the ring. Su Lin nodded to the audience, to one man specifically and then, she too stepped forward. As she did so, her thumb moved at her waist and the belt unravelled, then dropped. She stepped out of the kimono, letting the floating robe fall away behind her. If the audience were surprised beforehand, they were utterly shocked now. Beneath the concealing robe was a sculptured body, lined with powerful muscles. Her bulk was average for a bodybuilder, but the definition was hard and sharp. Muscles stood out as cleanly and clearly as if her body were carved from marble. She moved with a grace and elegance that sent her muscles tensing and flowing with a thousand harmonious motions beneath her skin. When she took her fighting stance, her body visibly hardened and tensed, like a spring, coiled with concentrated energy. Even Ben looked shocked by this display of feminine power. He’d been told he was fighting a kung-fu chick, but to take it reasonably easy. No showy slaughter unless he deemed it necessary. The woman actually looked like she may put up a good fight. And then he realised why. It wasn’t just her body, phenomenal though it was, it was her eyes. It was the look she had, a look he rarely saw. She truly believed she was going to win. She was certain of the fact. The two fighters approached one another, Ben carefully. Not through fear or caution but simple curiosity. What were the motives of this woman? She knew his reputation, knew what she was up against. Was she really so confident in herself? He punched out first, preferring to start with his own street- fighting style than to match her karate poise. Despite his speed, she blocked him with ease, her other, open palm slamming into the arm as it glanced off her block. He pulled the arm aside, flowing with her momentum. If he were a lesser fighter, she would have just snapped his arm. He had to admit she was good. Her body moved like lightening, a leg suddenly inside his defence frame and crushing his solar plexus. Again he rolled, flowing with the force of the blow. It still winded him however. Those muscles weren’t just for show, she was implausibly strong. She followed after him and caught a fist to the top of his head. The pain was unbearable. Ben cried out, feeling a spray of blood as his scalp split. But his adrenaline was pumping now. He’d always found offence to be his best defence. His punch smashed into her stomach, slamming into the muscular wall of her abdominals. It was like punching brick, the shock slicing down his arm. But it threw her back enough to get a kick in. His leg swept hers from under her and she fell backwards onto the ground. He fell upon her, his elbow to her throat, his knee to her belly. She caught the elbow and twisted. His knee she let fall, trusting her staggering stomach muscles to hold up. Despite the momentum of his full weight, he couldn’t dent her abs and she forced him to the side. Rolling on top, she kept hold of the elbow, her fingers in vice-grip about his upper arm. She kept twisting as she rolled, feeling the joint tear and the arm spasm as she snapped it. She brought her knee up, placing it firmly into his belly. He was strong but nowhere near strong enough. She achieved that which he could not, crushing down through the bundle of nerves below his ribcage. The crunching pop, the sigh of breath forced out of his lungs, told her it was over. She was not however finished. The videotape was still in her head and she wasn’t about to stop until this man resembled his earlier victim. Ben was bucking, trying to shift her but he was completely helpless. He was screaming something, but either it was unintelligible or she was too caught up in her own furious violence to distinguish it. Whichever, it wasn’t about to stop her. Su Lin wasn’t even aware of the frenzied baying of the crowds. Only two things concerned her, the cop as he had been when he was alive, generous and sweet natured but fiercely loyal and determined. A man who would do anything to help those he cared about, who would risk everything if he thought it would do some true good. The other thing was the man beneath her, the man she now knew that she was going to kill. Somewhere at the back of her head she heard the police sirens as Bill gave the word and the raid came down. Her only concern however, was Ben. She squeezed, slowly but unrelentingly. A soft crackling sound and his wrist fragmented in her grip. She moved up to his forearm and began squeezing again. Then his elbow, then his overdeveloped biceps. Her clawed fingers bit down through the bulk of his muscles, actually splitting the flesh open in a bursting pop before her grip was tight enough to crack the bone beneath. He was sobbing softly, blood trickling slowly from his mouth. She ground her knee a little, sending sparks up his spine. With a resounding crack, that too snapped. She placed an open palm on each of his shoulders, her fingers routing around the flesh, searching for a hold on the collarbone. "This one’s gonna hurt," she promised and she began to squeeze. He was screaming but she was unhurried, closing her fingers with incremental care and precision. She felt the hand lay gently on her own shoulder, but finished her task of decimating Ben’s before turning to acknowledge Bill kneeling behind her. To his credit, he waited for her attention rather than attempt to restrain her. "Area’s secure," Bill told her. "The rest of the team are coming in, you’re gonna have to finish up now." "No problem," she hissed. She moved her hands from the mangled shoulders to the face above. She positioned her fingers carefully, delicately almost. "Look at me," she told him. He was beyond coherent thought however. She gave his skull a quick squeeze, applying serious pressure. Both his eyes bulged in their sockets, his mouth forced open. He gurgled and focused on her. "Better," she told him. "I didn’t want you to miss this." And then she really did turn on the pressure. His face began bleeding at the point where her hands cut into the flesh, mangling his features so irrevocably. The eyeballs popped almost simultaneously, jumping from the disfigured sockets. She actually saw intelligent reason in them, even as they lay on his cheeks. And when the skull began to cave it resembled clay, a wet mess of soft modelling mud, no more resilient than papier mâché. At Bill’s prompting, she finally let the man go, leaving him for the clean-up crew to dispose of however they saw fit. Bag it and tag it. "I swear you are going to put us both into Internal Affairs one of these days," Bill muttered to her as he swept the kimono about her shoulders. "You’d rather he lived?" she hissed, still boiling with fury. "I didn’t say that." They headed away from all the activity. Su Lin noticed he was leading her to the bank of ambulances that was lined up outside the car park. "I’m fine," she assured him, "He barely touched me." "I know that, but if we hang out with these guy maybe we can avoid answering some questions for a while. You know it’s going to be a long night. Besides, I’ve noticed how paramedics seem to keep the best coffee." And it was true, the coffee was good. She toasted to fallen comrades and they drank in silence.