1:15 PM.
Odd stood in the arena staging area, hands wrapped, mentally preparing himself for the fight ahead.
The door to the staging area opened. An official entered, flanked by two guards.
Round 3 Fight 3. Davis Brown versus Odd. Scheduled for 1 PM, delayed fifteen minutes for what officials called "standard pre-fight protocols."
"Odd, return to the fighter section. Match is postponed."
"Postponed? Why?"
"Davis Brown hasn't reported for mandatory pre-fight protocols. We're conducting a search."
Odd blinked. "He's missing?"
"Return to the fighter section. Further updates will follow."
The walk back through the corridors felt surreal. His opponent—the man he'd been mentally preparing to face, the fight that would determine whether he advanced or went home—had simply vanished.
The fighter section was filled with confused murmuring when Odd arrived.
Lucius sat in his usual spot, expression neutral, observing the reactions around him.
Seung appeared at Lucius's side moments later, tablet in hand. "You hearing this? Davis Brown's gone. Just... gone."
"I heard."
"Executive-sponsored fighter disappearing right before his match. That's suspicious as hell." Seung lowered his voice. "Think someone got to him?"
Lucius said nothing. Just watched the arena floor where officials were gathering in urgent discussion.
"This could mess up the whole tournament," Seung muttered. "If they can't find him, what do they do? Cancel everything? Reschedule?"
"They'll investigate first."
"Yeah, but investigate what? Guy's apparently just gone."
Around them, other fighters discussed it in hushed tones. Speculation. Theories. Concern that whatever happened to Davis could happen to them.
Lucius remained quiet, cataloging reactions, measuring responses.
---
In the tournament operations office, four officials sat around a conference table reviewing reports.
The lead official—a heavyset man in his fifties with graying hair and a permanent scowl—gestured at the security footage playing on wall screens. Malik Hayes, twenty years managing underground operations, looked like someone perpetually annoyed at having to solve problems.
To his left sat Jennifer Chou, younger, early forties, precise and methodical with her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. She handled logistics and scheduling with mechanical efficiency.
Across from them, Robert Zhang tapped his tablet rhythmically, anxious energy radiating from his lean frame. Mid-thirties, newer to operations management, constantly worried about things going wrong.
The fourth official, Marcus Webb, stood near the screens examining footage with sharp eyes. Tall, composed, late forties, former military bearing still evident in his posture.
And at the far end of the table sat Mike Ross, flanked by two male assistants.
The assistants were unremarkable by design—average height, average build, professional suits, faces you'd forget within minutes. One carried a tablet, the other a slim briefcase. Both stood slightly behind Mike's chair, silent and attentive.
Mike himself wore that wide smile, leaning back comfortably like he was watching an entertaining show rather than dealing with a crisis.
"Last confirmed sighting," Marcus Webb said, pointing at a screen, "was yesterday after the Round 3 Fight 2 conclusion. Davis Brown left the arena floor, proceeded toward the medical area entrance. After that..." He gestured at empty corridors. "Nothing."
"Medical area reports he never arrived," Jennifer added, consulting her tablet. "No sign-in record, no staff interactions, no treatment logged."
"So he vanished somewhere between the arena exit and medical entrance?" Malik Hayes's scowl deepened. "That's what, a fourty-foot corridor?"
"Approximately."
"Check every camera angle. Multiple times. He didn't just disappear into thin air."
Robert Zhang scrolled through data nervously. "What about the fire evacuation last night? Could he have used that chaos to slip out somehow?"
"Fire evacuation only affected fighter areas and part of medical," Marcus replied. "Executive residential section wasn't involved. Davis should've been in his quarters during that time, completely unaffected."
"Should've been," Mike Ross said pleasantly, speaking for the first time. "But clearly wasn't, since he never returned there."
The officials exchanged glances.
"We checked his quarters this morning," Jennifer confirmed. "Bed unused. No signs he returned after leaving the arena yesterday."
Mike's smile widened slightly. "So one of my fighters vanished somewhere in this facility. That's quite fascinating."
Malik Hayes looked at him directly. "Executive Ross, with respect, we're handling this investigation. We'll find him."
"Oh, I'm sure you will." Mike's tone remained casual, pleasant. "But I can't help noticing the interesting timing. Davis disappears right before his scheduled match. Right before what should've been a very one-sided fight."
Silence.
"You're suggesting his opponent had something to do with it?" Marcus asked carefully.
"I'm not suggesting anything." Mike folded his hands on the table. "Just observing. Davis was tier 4, quite skilled. His opponent was..." He glanced at one of his assistants, who quietly provided information. "Ah yes. Odd. Tier 2, maybe 3. Very poor odds of survival against Davis."
"What's your point?"
"No point. Just context." That smile never wavered. "Though one might say the person who benefits most from Davis's disappearance is the person who no longer has to face an overwhelming threat."
Robert Zhang looked uncomfortable. "You think Odd did something?"
"I think when someone benefits significantly from a disappearance, they warrant examination. That's just basic investigative practice."
Malik Hayes nodded slowly. "Bring him in for questioning."
"There's one other thing," Mike added, almost as an afterthought. "Rumor has it this Odd fellow has been receiving training from another fighter. Extensive training. That's quite unusual in a competition where you might face each other."
Jennifer consulted her tablet. "King. The one who fought Iron Clad Wang yesterday. Records show they've been observed together multiple times."
"Training," Mike said, his tone thoughtful. "How generous. Unless, of course, there's some arrangement between them. Some reason King would want Odd to survive and advance. Some mutual benefit."
The implication hung in the air.
"We'll question both of them," Malik decided. "See what they know."
Mike Ross's smile remained perfectly pleasant. "Wonderful idea."
---
Odd was brought to an interrogation room at ~2:00 PM.
The room was small—metal table, four chairs, one-way mirror on the far wall. Malik Hayes and Marcus Webb sat across from Odd. Mike Ross stood near the back with his two assistants, observing.
Odd looked nervous but not guilty. Just confused about why he was here.
"Odd," Malik began, his scowl somehow deepening, "you were scheduled to fight Davis Brown at 1 PM today. Correct?"
"Yes sir."
"You're aware he's missing?"
"They told me when I was in staging. Is he okay?"
"We don't know. That's what we're trying to determine." Malik consulted notes. "Can you account for your whereabouts yesterday after Round 3 Fight 2 concluded?"
"I was in the mess hall. Had lunch. Then went to my quarters to rest and prepare for today's match."
"What about during the fire evacuation last night?"
"I was in my quarters sleeping. The alarm woke me up. I evacuated to the mess hall with everyone else, then went back when they cleared us."
"Did you see Davis Brown at any point yesterday or last night?"
"No sir. Never met him. Don't even know what he looks like."
Marcus Webb leaned forward. "Never? Not even in passing?"
"Executive-sponsored fighters stay in different sections, right? I've never been to the executive area."
The officials made notes.
"You must feel relieved," Mike Ross said from the back, his voice casual and conversational. "Finding out your opponent disappeared."
Odd turned to look at him. "I don't understand."
"Well, Davis was significantly more powerful than you. The match would've been very difficult. Potentially fatal." Mike's smile widened. "Now you don't have to face him. That's quite fortunate."
"I didn't do anything to him," Odd said firmly. "I don't know where he is."
"Of course not." Mike's tone was understanding, sympathetic even. "Though rumor has it you've been receiving training from another fighter. King, I believe? That's quite unusual in this environment."
Odd's expression shifted—confusion mixed with wariness. "Yeah, King's been helping me train. So what?"
"So it's interesting," Mike replied smoothly. "Why would someone invest time training a potential opponent? Unless there's some arrangement. Some agreement between you."
"There's no arrangement. He's just a good guy trying to help."
"A good guy." Mike's smile remained fixed. "Or perhaps someone with mutual interests. Tell me, Odd—did you and King ever discuss your match with Davis? Strategize about how to handle such an overwhelming opponent?"
"We talked about general defensive techniques. That's it."
Mike pushed off from the wall slightly. "And it never came up that removing Davis from the equation would solve your problem entirely? That if he simply wasn't there, you wouldn't have to face him at all?"
"No! That's not—" Odd's frustration was building. "I don't know what happened to Davis. King doesn't either. We've been training. That's all."
Mike looked at the officials. "You should probably speak with King as well. Just to be thorough. After all, rumor has it he's been spending considerable time with Odd. That's worth examining."
Malik Hayes nodded. "Bring King in."
---
Lucius was escorted to the same interrogation room at ~3:00 PM.
Same setup. Malik Hayes and Marcus Webb across the table. Mike Ross at the back with his two assistants.
But the officials were more tense. More careful. Mike Ross's eyes carried particular intensity despite his casual smile.
They weren't just investigating anymore. They were building something.
"King," Malik began, "you're aware Davis Brown is missing?"
"I heard the announcement."
"You were scheduled to potentially face him later in the tournament if both of you advanced. Correct?"
"Potentially. Yes."
"Can you account for your whereabouts yesterday after your match with Iron Clad Wang?"
"Medical area for post-fight examination and treatment. Then my quarters. Rested due to injuries. Fire alarm woke me, evacuated to mess hall, returned when cleared."
"Did you see Davis Brown at any point yesterday or last night?"
"Never met him. Wouldn't recognize him."
Marcus Webb consulted his tablet. "We've been informed you've been training another fighter. Odd. The man scheduled to fight Davis Brown today."
"I've worked with him on defensive techniques. Yes."
"Why?"
"He asked for help. I provided it."
"That's generous," Mike interjected smoothly. "Especially in a tournament where helping a potential opponent could disadvantage you."
Lucius looked at him directly. "If we faced each other and he'd improved, that makes a better fight. I prefer challenging opponents to easy victories."
"Interesting perspective." Mike's smile remained. "Though rumor has it you've spent quite a bit of time with him. Multiple training sessions. Extensive technical instruction. One might wonder if there's more to it than simple generosity."
"Such as?"
"An arrangement, perhaps. Work together, increase both your chances of advancement. Maybe split prize money at the end."
"There's no arrangement."
"Really?" Mike's tone remained pleasant. "Then why invest so much time? Teaching techniques that could keep him alive against superior opponents. Unless you wanted to ensure he survived. Wanted him to advance. Which becomes much easier if his most dangerous opponent simply... isn't there anymore."
Lucius's expression didn't change. His voice stayed level. "I trained him because he asked. Davis Brown's disappearance has nothing to do with me or Odd. I've never met Davis Brown. Never seen him. Never interacted with him in any way."
"Can you prove that?"
"Can you prove otherwise?"
Mike's smile widened slightly. "Fair point. After all, there's no body. No physical evidence. Just circumstances that raise questions."
"We'll need to hold both you and Odd while we complete our investigation," Malik Hayes said. "Special holding area. Standard procedure when there's an active investigation."
"Understood."
"Tournament is suspended until we determine what happened," Marcus added. "Can't continue with a missing executive-sponsored fighter."
Lucius nodded once. Cooperative. Professional. Nothing in his demeanor suggested guilt or concern.
Mike Ross watched him with that perpetual smile, studying Lucius like an interesting specimen.
"I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this," Mike said pleasantly. "One way or another."
---
The special holding area was located on a lower level.
Not quite a prison, but not comfortable. Two separate rooms with reinforced walls. Guards stationed at the entrance. Cameras monitoring everything.
Lucius was escorted to one room, Odd to the other.
The room was basic. Bed bolted to the floor. Sink. Toilet. Small table and chair, both secured. Nothing that could be used as a weapon.
The door sealed with a heavy mechanical sound.
Lucius sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.
His mind worked through what had just happened.
Mike Ross's manipulation had been methodical. Subtle. He'd planted seeds of suspicion without making direct accusations. Let the officials connect dots themselves.
But why?
Simply investigating Davis's disappearance? Or something more?
Lucius replayed the interrogation. Mike's expressions. His word choices. The way he'd watched Lucius specifically.
Something didn't fit.
Mike Ross had been too prepared. Too ready with implications. Like he'd known exactly what to suggest before the interrogation even started.
Like he'd been waiting for this opportunity.
And there was another possibility Lucius couldn't ignore.
Mike Ross could've been Davis's sponsor. That would explain his investment in the investigation. His careful manipulation of suspicion. His focus on building a narrative rather than finding actual evidence.
If Mike had sponsored Davis, then Davis's disappearance affected him directly. Cost him an investment. A fighter he'd put resources into training and positioning.
That would make this personal for Mike Ross
And personal grudges in places like this rarely ended quietly, not to mention he had no idea how long davis had been stalking him, if it was out of his own or mikes will..
Lucius opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
Outside, guards moved through patrol patterns. Cameras recorded everything. The facility continued operations around them.
And somewhere in the tournament operations office, Mike Ross was likely still smiling.
Planning whatever came next.
Lucius had time now. Time in this holding cell to think, to calculate, to prepare.
Practically all his rat network was gone but he still had a few of his remote agents operating. The mission was still advancing. Because even locked in a room, Lucius D. King never stopped moving pieces into position.
The tournament was suspended.
Davis Brown was missing without a trace.
And the real game was just beginning.
---
TO BE CONTINUED