Jack Thompson's Arc

Chapter 13 of 25

The fight night came fast. Jack and 13 followed Seven down into a forgotten train tunnel, the air thick with sweat and old smoke. Cracked tiles lined the walls. A makeshift ring sat at the far end, walled in stone and strung with bright red ropes. The crowd pressed against those ropes, hungry. Jack leaned on Lady Luck and found a spot in the shadows. Seven climbed in first. She rolled her shoulders, and blue light bloomed around her fists — spectral gauntlets, sharp as glass. Across from her, Arthur Von Arctus stepped through the ropes. The bear man was twice her size. The red feather on his chest caught the lamp light. The bell rang. Seven moved fast. She landed three clean hits to Arthur's ribs, the blue light cracking against fur. Arthur didn't flinch. He just watched her, measuring. Then he stepped in and caught her shoulder with one slow, heavy swing. Seven hit the stones and skidded. The crowd roared. "She's done," 13 said. Flat. He wasn't wrong. Seven pushed up to one knee, grinned through a split lip, and stayed down. Arthur raised one paw. The bell rang again. Backstage smelled like liniment. Seven leaned on 13's shoulder and waved them past the guard with her fighter's pass. Arthur sat on a low bench, wrapping his knuckles. He looked up at the three of them and was not surprised. Jack held out the feather. "We're looking for the hand that made this," he said. Arthur studied it a long moment. "Dr. Owl," he said. "Crimson Wing. He marks what he owns." He paused, started another sentence, let it go. "Find him before he finds the boy again." 13 folded the feather back into his jacket. His hand wasn't quite steady. Jack saw it and said nothing. They had a name now, and a face to put on the thing in 13's skull. Outside the tunnel, somewhere above them, a scout barked. Jack tightened his grip on Lady Luck. The hunt had a direction.