Not just anyone could become one of Burman's enforcers. After negotiating with the others, Jensen decided to assign Dixie to "Madman" Rex.
After training, Dixie would have to fight in Burman's brutal underground fighting pits. If she survived, she'd become an enforcer.
This was how every enforcer started. Wealthy patrons with peculiar tastes would watch the fights, betting stacks of cash on their favored contenders.
Years ago, the most famous fighter was Sherry.
Back then, Burman's red-light district was even more decadent than it is now. People reveled day and night. The fights back then? They were against vicious pit bulls.
The moment young, beautiful Sherry leaped into the pit, the crowd erupted in applause and wild cheers.
Her hands wrapped in bandages, her silver hair tied high but slightly disheveled, Sherry's perfect form and movements instantly captivated everyone.
The pit was littered with corpses. Soft, muddy sludge mixed with blood and rotting flesh. Bones jutted out at chaotic angles.
Three massive, muscular pit bulls bared their teeth, drool dripping as they closed in. The crowd held their breath. Sherry stood motionless.
With a low growl, one of the pit bulls lunged at her. Sherry dropped low, using its momentum to fall, then rolled sideways—sending the dog tumbling over her.
She sprang up, wrenching a thigh bone from a half-buried corpse. As the pit bull turned and charged again, Sherry leaped, her body arching gracefully mid-air.
Her silver hair fanned out like wings as she gripped the splintered bone. For a moment, she looked both fierce and elegant.
Before anyone could admire her lithe figure, Sherry's sharp bone spear pierced the pit bull's throat.
Blood splattered across her face, stark against her pale green eyes.
She yanked the bone free with a sickening squelch.
After taking down the third pit bull, Sherry was drenched in crimson. She lazily wiped blood from her cheek.
Standing in the center of the pit, one foot planted on a dead dog, she dropped the bone, raised her hands, and blew a long, clear whistle.
"Hey! Everybody!"
Three seconds of silence. Then the crowd exploded. People roared, clapped, chanting her name:
"Sherry!! Sherry!! Sherry!!"
Sherry stood in the pit, arms raised, head tilted back with a smirk. Her eyes swept the frenzied crowd as she swayed to their rhythm.
She had a magnetism that ignited madness.
Everybody. Everywhere.
…
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"..." Dixie stood outside the training room, staring up at Sherry.
Lately, the kid had started communicating normally. Sherry felt a flicker of relief. "That's how the fights work. Any other questions, kid?"
"...Why do I have to…" Dixie paused, glancing at the closed door. "…find him?"
"Rex," Sherry leaned against the doorframe, smiling patiently. "He's reliable. Don't be scared."
"..."
Dixie pressed her lips shut again. Sherry hated when she did this—clamming up the moment she didn't get the answer she wanted.
But Sherry couldn't exactly tell her the truth: Because Rex is just as unhinged as you are. That's why we're dumping you on him.
D*mn it.
Sherry arched an eyebrow, straightened up, and cleared her throat. "Alright, kid. I've got things to do. Go on in."
Dixie gave a soft "Mm," her eyes dropping to the doorknob.
"..." Sherry hesitated but said nothing. She watched Dixie for a few seconds, then turned and walked away.
Dixie stood alone outside the training room.
After half a minute, she reached for the knob. Click. The door opened.
It shut behind her. Dixie found herself on a raised platform. She took a few steps forward. The hollow thud-thud of fists hitting a heavy bag echoed through the empty training hall.
Dixie walked to the platform's railing and looked down. A tall man was training below.
Shirtless, skin bronzed, sweat glistening over taut muscles. His short black hair, damp with sweat, whipped back with each punch.
Every strike exploded with power. His body moved like a sleek, dangerous black panther.
Dixie gripped the railing, holding her breath. Her dark eyes fixed on him, shutting out everything else. All she saw were his driving arms, rippling muscles, precise fists.
Her face lit up with a feverish obsession for strength.
Rex landed one final punch. The heavy bag swung violently. He straightened up, glancing sideways at the kid on the platform.
His ice-blue eyes locked onto Dixie's.
Her breath hitched. Her lashes fluttered almost imperceptibly.
Rex studied her through sweat-soaked strands of hair.
Asian. Ill-fitting T-shirt and sweatpants. Bruised ribs. Lean but muscular. Strong core and legs. Hyper-vigilant…
Dixie stared back, tense and guarded. But Rex only glanced at her before turning away. He grabbed a towel and wiped his face.
Dixie's muscles relaxed slightly. She didn't notice Rex's next move until it was too late.
A soft thud. Suddenly, a towering, heat-radiating presence stood before her. Startled, Dixie looked up into those ice-blue eyes.
Rex had vaulted onto the railing Dixie clung to. Shirtless, he crouched on the metal bar, leaning down until his face was inches from hers.
His powerful frame loomed close. Sweat trickled down his neck and chest. Warm breath brushed Dixie's cheek.
Her pupils dilated. She could hear the steady, forceful beat of his heart. Overwhelming pressure froze her in place.
Can't move.
Rex's gaze traveled slowly down her neck and shoulders, tangible as a touch. Over every inch of muscle. Every scar.
Dixie felt his predatory hunger. Her composure cracked. Her cheek twitched, nostrils flared, baring her teeth—just like when she'd first arrived in Burman.
"Heh." Rex chuckled softly by her ear. Dixie flinched.
"You're the new kid?"
"..." Dixie stared fixedly at his Adam's apple as it moved. A raspy, unfamiliar voice escaped her:
"Yes."
A contemptuous smile touched Rex's lips. He straightened up. The suffocating pressure vanished.
Dixie's body went slack. Darkness edged her vision. She gripped the railing, refusing to collapse before him.
Rex backflipped off the platform. Landing smoothly, he pointed to a bench without looking back. "Wait there, kid."
He disappeared into the showers. Dixie stood frozen for five minutes. Only when the water stopped did she force down the instinct to flee.
Taking a deep breath, she climbed onto the railing like Rex had. Below stretched the vast training floor.
Without the railing's security, the drop made her dizzy. But the thrill of madness electrified every nerve.
Rex's presence had ignited something. A voice whispered in her mind: Jump. Jump. Jump.
So she jumped.
Soaring through the air like a bird in flight.
Rex stepped out of the shower, towel-drying his hair, just in time to see it.
Dixie's eyes blazed with madness, even excitement. She arced through the air, landed in a perfect roll, and sprang to her feet.
She turned, saw Rex, and instantly tensed. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Ready for war.
"..." Rex ran his tongue over his teeth.
He'd trained others before. Most bolted during the "assessment" phase.
Sherry was right. Madmen recognized their own.
"From today until your fight, I'm your trainer," Rex walked closer, stopping in front of her.
"Questions?"
"…No, sir."
"Good. Now answer mine." Rex's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Can you fight, kid?"
"Yes."
Rex nodded slowly, tongue against his teeth. Then the second question.
"Ever killed anyone?"
A flicker of hesitation crossed Dixie's impassive face. She seemed torn between admitting it and holding back.
"Yes? Or no?"
Rex's voice was low. Pressing.
"…Yes." The word came out slow. Dixie swallowed, her gaze dropping to the floor. "…But I don't remember…"
"…" Rex cracked his neck. His hand shot out, gripping her chin, forcing her head up. Forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Listen, kid. I don't care about your bullshit." Rex leaned closer, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "But I won't waste time on a weakling who can't even kill."
Dixie held her breath. His grip numbed her jaw.
"…Yes, sir."
"Good." Rex released her. He stood tall, looking down his nose at her. Issued his first command: "Now. Use everything you've got. Try to knock me down."
Dixie didn't move. Her dark eyes watched him.
Irritation flashed in Rex's eyes. He opened his mouth to repeat the order—
—Dixie's gaze darted to a nearby rack filled with blades of various lengths.
Rex glanced at it. "No, kid. You can't use—"
Before he finished, a blur shot towards him. A fist powered straight for his face.
THUD!
The punch landed in Rex's open palm. His fingers snapped shut. Dixie gasped, her other hand clawing at his fist, arm trembling with pain.
Rex released her. Before she could cradle her injured hand, his fist slammed into her stomach.
GHAK!
Dixie flew backward. She hit the ground hard, rolling several times before skidding to a stop.
Rex watched her struggle to rise. He looked down at his own palm, bruised purple from her strike. A slow grin spread across his face. Tongue against teeth.
That glance at the blades… It was a feint. To distract me.
A spark of interest lit Rex's ice-blue eyes. His eyebrow lifted.