The air was thick with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes. A crowd of spectators stood around an open space in the dimly lit room where two men fought, sweating and bloodied with bare hands and cracked knuckles. They shouted and waved money in the air as scantily clad women walked around in a circle bringing drinks and any other vices the customers wanted. They leaned over the rails of the second floor to watch the fighting in the pit below, tossing tickets down in frustration as one of the combatants flew through the air and slammed his knee into the side of the other?s head. A man walked into the middle of the small arena and shouted to the crowd as he took the winner?s hand and brought it skyward to proclaim him the victor.

Some cheered and some groaned but all flocked to the booth against the wall near the bar where a man stood behind a protective sheet of reinforced glass to deal out the payments for those who had bet on the winner. It was a loud, sweaty affair made all the more grating when the lights dimmed further and changed colors and the thumping bass of some synthetic beat began to fill the air to keep the guests entertained between fights. In one corner of the room was a section barred off with a railing, a chain and a large man in all black with his hands clasped in front of him.

Behind the bar and chain stood a collection of tables for all manners of gambling. Even more were swarmed around them, tossing down bets and playing games that were almost exclusively stacked so that the house would always win. There was a stage opposite the little gambling den that ran the length of an otherwise bare wall and women danced for the viewing delight of the rich men drunk on booze, power and any other intoxicants they chose to partake in. Occasionally a woman, dancing girl or otherwise, would take a man by the hand and lead him through a door to the right of the stage into a series of back rooms for a private showing if they flashed enough money in their direction.

The entire spectacle was overlooked by a room on the second floor. The wall that faced the fighting pit was exclusively made of glass and the room inside was richly furnished, well lit and exclusive to only the most influential and wealthy of visitors. It was here that a man stood in a half lean against a wall to peer down the window as the loser of the latest bout was dragged out of the pit and someone went to clean the blood from the floor. His face betrayed no hint of his thoughts on the matter of the outcome of the fight but the man who sat in the chair beside him had learned to read the gaze of his companion.

?Four losses,? he said. He was older than the man who leaned against the wall and had dark hair peppered with streaks of grey. He leaned back to turn and look up at the younger man. ?You know what must be done, Nishimura,? his black eyes turned back down to the pit below where men and women had begun to flood in, dancing the time away as Hayato pushed from his lean against the wall and dipped into a bow to the older man before turning to walk away. He reached beneath his jacket where a gun was holstered by a strap around his shoulders as he left the older man behind.

Ishi, the older man who happened to run the Kōtetsu Social Club, pondered the young man who had just left him to see to some gruesome task. He had given Hayato the chief responsibility of finding fighters to entertain their guests, the young man was an experienced fighter himself and thus knew what to look for in a promising combatant. Most of the men he brought in were skilled and put on a good show for the spectators to shout and bet over, the more extravagant and obnoxious the fighter the higher the stakes. This latest combatant, however, had proved to be a colossal disappointment to both Hayato and Ishi and failure was not something either man tolerated.

Few would hear the sound of a gunshot over the thumping bass beat and the noise that filled the air. None would ever see the loser of the fight again and no one would ever think to ask.