Chapter 3 - THE TOURNAMENT
The tournament was held beneath an abandoned theater.
No advertisements.
No cameras.
No public tickets.
Only invitations.
Mason arrived with Elena at 10:12 p.m.
The building looked empty from the outside.
Inside, it was another world.
Hundreds of people crowded around a fighting cage.
Money changed hands.
Champagne flowed.
Security guards stood at every entrance.
And at the center sat Victor Hale.
Silver hair.
Black suit.
Perfect smile.
He looked less like a criminal than a politician.
Because he was one.
Hale was running for governor.
Mason recognized several people in the crowd.
Police commanders.
Business owners.
Judges.
Politicians.
Fighters.
All watching.
All pretending this was entertainment.
Hale stood.
"Tonight isn't about violence."
The crowd laughed.
"It's about excellence."
More laughter.
Mason watched him.
Hale's eyes moved through the crowd.
Then stopped.
On him.
For a second, neither man moved.
Hale smiled.
Then looked at Elena.
The smile disappeared.
He whispered something to the man beside him.
A fighter entered the cage.
Huge.
Six-foot-four.
Scarred.
Former heavyweight champion.
His name was Roman Cole.
The announcer shouted:
"First challenger!"
Mason knew immediately.
This wasn't a tournament.
It was a test.
Hale wanted to see what Mason could do.
Roman looked toward him.
"You're next."
Mason didn't answer.
Elena grabbed his arm.
"Don't fight him."
Mason looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because that's what they want."
Roman charged.
Mason moved.
The first strike missed.
Second.
Third.
Mason blocked.
The crowd screamed.
Roman was powerful.
But power wasn't enough.
Mason waited.
Then countered.
Roman fell.
The room went silent.
Hale leaned forward.
"Interesting."
Another fighter entered.
Then another.
Mason defeated them all.
Not easily.
But intelligently.
Every fight revealed more about Hale's organization.
Each fighter had the same symbol tattooed near the wrist.
Three diagonal lines.
The same mark Elena carried.
Mason finally understood.
It wasn't a scar.
It was a symbol.
A network.
A training program.
A pipeline for fighters.
The tournament wasn't selecting champions.
It was selecting weapons.
After the fifth fight, Mason was exhausted.
Hale stood.
"Bring out the final opponent."
The doors opened.
A man walked into the cage.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Lean.
He moved slowly.
Mason stared.
The crowd became silent.
Elena covered her mouth.
Mason's heart stopped.
The man looked at him.
And said:
"Hello, son."
Mason couldn't breathe.
"Dad?"
Daniel Reed nodded.
Mason stumbled backward.
"You were dead."
"I had to be."
"Why?"
Daniel looked toward Hale.
"Because he knows."
Hale smiled.
Daniel continued.
"He knows where the evidence is."
Mason looked at Elena.
"What evidence?"
Daniel's eyes moved toward the ceiling.
"The original files."
Mason realized the tournament was only a distraction.
While everyone watched them fight—
someone was searching the dojo.
The original evidence was hidden there.
Hale had known.
Daniel looked at his son.
"Don't fight him."
Mason's eyes hardened.
"Then what do I do?"
"Survive."
The lights suddenly went out.
Screams erupted.
Security moved.
Elena grabbed Mason.
"Now!"
They ran.
Daniel stayed behind.
Mason turned.
"Dad!"
Daniel shouted:
"GO!"
A gunshot echoed.
Mason stopped.
Elena dragged him away.
They escaped through a service tunnel.
Outside, rain poured.
Mason was shaking.
"He shot him."
Elena shook her head.
"No."
"You saw it."
"I saw the flash."
"So?"
"Your father was wearing armor."
Mason stared.
"How do you know?"
"Because I gave it to him."
They reached a parked car.
Elena opened the trunk.
Inside were documents.
Hard drives.
Photographs.
Names.
Dates.
Bank transfers.
Police reports.
Mason picked one up.
His own father's name appeared on it.
Below it:
PROJECT BLACKWOOD.
"What is this?"
Elena looked at him.
"The reason your dojo exists."
Mason read.
The project had started twenty-two years ago.
Its goal was simple.
Recruit young fighters.
Train them.
Control them.
Use them for private enforcement.
The program had been protected by police and politicians.
Mason looked sick.
"How many?"
"At least forty-seven."
"Where are they?"
"Some escaped."
"Some?"
Elena looked away.
Mason understood.
Then he found another file.
A photograph.
A young boy.
Age seventeen.
The fighter who died.
On the back:
Witnessed by Daniel Reed.
Mason whispered:
"My father saw everything."
"Yes."
"And Hale tried to kill him."
"Yes."
"Why did my father hide?"
"Because Hale threatened you."
Mason looked up.
"What?"
"You were six."
Elena's voice broke.
"Hale told him that if Daniel spoke, you would disappear."
Mason sat down.
For twenty-two years, he had believed his father abandoned him.
Now he realized his father had been protecting him.
A phone rang.
Elena answered.
Her face changed.
"Who?"
She listened.
Then looked at Mason.
"It's Daniel."
Mason grabbed the phone.
"Dad?"
A weak voice answered.
"Son."
"Where are you?"
"Listen carefully."
Mason closed his eyes.
"I'm listening."
"Don't trust the police."
"Why?"
"Because the governor's office already knows."
Mason's blood ran cold.
"Who?"
Daniel whispered:
"Your dojo's head instructor."
The call ended.
Mason looked at Elena.
"Who?"
She stared at him.
Then said:
"Mason..."
May you like
He waited.
"Your coach."
