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“Dad I did it, I-” Lucas said quietly as Andre exasperatedly turned him towards the camera 

“C-camera side is here, Luke.”

“O-oh r-ight sorry Mr. Andre I- I just n-never done an i-interview before; I’m uh, a little n-nervous.” Lucas stuttered, looking up to Andre who wordlessly nudged him back towards the facing the camera before flashing his gameshow smile.

“D-dad I did it!” Lucas said with a strange mixture of pride and fear “I m-made it all the way to B-Brazil. A-and for the past f-f-few weeks I’ve been do-doing all the t-training you s-said I should. And even if I die in this tourney, and I- I might Andre, they can never take a-away the fact that I made it here... I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Well Lukey I hope you realize that as a fighter you’re going to have to defend your spot.” Andre said, his smile still flashing but speaking in a fairly condescending tone.

“I will A-Andre, I won’t be a c-cowardly fighter; I’ll face off against anybody.” Lucas appeared even more terrified than usual, drawing in a shaky breath before continuing. “....A-anybody.”

“Have ya got any idea as to who your first match might be with?” Andre asked, pulling out a crisp white sheet from his coat pocket.

“I-I have no idea Andre who is it? Who?”

“Jeremy Halvit.”

“Jeremy Halvit?”

Lucas stared off into the distance for a moment before burying his face into his hands.

“Oh God.”

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“Hurn!”

The man in the black gi threw a punch endowed with all the strength he could muster but the cowboy flowed like water underneath and kicked his legs out from underneath him. He had known he was being followed and attempted to lure his would be stalker into a tenement building. He’d heard some stories of fighters being attacked by local thugs, some decently organised thugs who’d made increasing amounts of trouble ever since the tournament began, the man had quickly realised his error when the strange cowboy revealed himself and the fight began. He was no thug and this was more than simply to stir up trouble.

The man narrowly avoided a savage stomp by the cowboy but wasn’t quick enough to move from the follow up kick to his ribs. Whoever this person was, he was very fast but what was most unnerving was just how quiet he was during this. He didn’t taunt or brag or threaten, he just kept coming.

With a burst of rage the man in the black gi propelled forward and unleashed three quick jabs, none connected but the cowboy was now on the defensive, moving back the man placed both his hands together and shot out a pale blue projectile that fiercely lit up the abandoned building. The cowboy rolled to one side as the projectile hit the concrete wall and sparks travelled across the concrete, the man took the chance to dart forward and attempt to catch the attacker with an elbow smash but his attack was cut short as a sudden bullet lodged itself into his arm.

The man cried out in pain and stumbled backwards yet still gritted his teeth and attempted to advance, he was forced back as another shot landed dangerously close to his foot, the cowboy advanced twirling the revolver in his hand, forcing the man backwards. Another warning shot at his feet caused the man to lose his footing and fall back, he attempted to get his bearings back but two more shots on either side of him caused him to shuffle awkwardly to avoid being cursed with another round. He got to his feet and in a sudden show of speed himself he shifted his body and his leg avoided being impaled with a shot from the revolver, the bullet placing itself in the wall behind him.

“That was all six shots.” The man said, gasping for breath but his determined expression remaining “I counted.”

Voyt raised an eyebrow. “Good for you.” He said as he fired a shot into the man’s kneecap, causing him to collapse and yell out in pain.

The man looked up and even admirably managed to somewhat maintain his expression of disgust despite the feeling in his arm deadening and the intense pain shooting across his leg, his face grew red from the pain but he never stopped glaring into Voyt’s eyes.

“Why would someone want you dead.” Voyt said suddenly, holstering his gun with a slight flourish and adjusting his hat.

“I think I should be asking that question.” The man said, his eyes still fixed on Voyt but allowing himself to shift his body against the wall to a more comfortable position for his leg “All I’m here to do is fight in the tournament.”

“What brought you here?” Voyt asked, he wasn’t exactly used to talking with targets and shuffled somewhat as he spoke.

“What?” The man said confused “What do you mean? I teach martial arts, hrn, martial arts to my kids and run a little school on the weekends. My, my students signed me up” He said, the pain of injuries inhibiting his speaking.

Voyt paused for a moment and gave a slight nod.

“So, urgh, who hired you then? Why did they tell you to come get me?” The man asked, attempting to sit up but very quickly giving up on the prospect.

Voyt didn’t answer.

“Look.” The man said with a weary sigh. “I have a family, I have kids. I don’t expect that means… Very much to a guy like you, but all I wanna do is get home to ‘em. What- urgh, whatever thing you’re involved in, I’m sure it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with me.” he said, watching as Voyt began slowly walking towards him.

Voyt continued to stare at the man as he slowly unholstered his revolver. The man looked wearily at Voyt before slowly closing his eyes.

Voyt aimed the revolver at the man’s head and rolled his thumb against the cylinder giving an audible click. For a moment there was silence as Voyt stood still.

With a sudden deft movement, Voyt smacked his gun against the side of the man’s head. 

Out cold but still softly breathing, the man lay still against the wall, his injuries were bad but he wasn’t running the risk of bleeding out and there’d be hospitals nearby surely. Even then, in that moment Voyt gripped his gun tight enough that his knuckles began turning white, he was still in two-minds about finishing it.

“...Damn it.” he said finally as he kneeled next to the man and plunged a syringe into the side of the man’s neck. He watched the case fill with his blood and then took the syringe out when it was reasonably filled, ejecting its contents into a small vial he pulled out from a pouch. 

Voyt stood up and continued to stare at the man for a few more moments before finally holstering his revolver and walking away.
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The sun hit Voyt’s senses in, frankly, a very unpleasant manner. Enough that he had to hold his hand in front of his face to let his eyes adjust after growing used to the dark building he’d previously been in. Questions had been the wrong move, it wouldn’t happen again. Voyt’d do what he was paid to do, get his payment and then leave. He’d seen enough of these people and this “Jackal” to last a lifetime. Even still the tournament proved to be his best bet to find the remaining few people left on his list, guage what they could do and track them down when the time was right, no more mistakes, no more targets getting out of his reach at the last moment.

[i]’No more accidents’[/i] thought Voyt as he left the building behind.
Voyt pulled his mask down and let it hang around his neck, exposing the light stubble on his face and a some scarring on one side of his mouth. He tipped his hat slightly upwards so as to illuminate his bored face, whilst he was still far from inconspicuous at least he wouldn’t look as threatening… Sans the two Single Action Armies that hung at his sides. At least the poncho at his side covered one of ‘em. He was just a spectator, nothing more, a mantra he continued to repeat to himself as he neared the large arena hosting the tourney, looking up at the intricate digital signs advertising that fact.

Voyt then looked down towards the affair at his feet. Several rogue-ish looking folk very thoroughly beaten into the sand, some with more serious wounds than others. Voyt pondered on this for a slight moment though he didn’t even raise as much as an eyebrow, fights outside these tournaments were fairly common, particularly with how much there’d been incidents happening recently more agitated competitors were bound to be on the prowl.

Voyt nonchalantly raised his boot and stepped over the woman at his feet as he continued making his way to the main entrance of the arena.