Foreigner looked at Foxtail with sympathy. Their walk to the Blade Garden had been silent, her eyes glassy and transfixed on the road ahead without entertaining even a moment of conversation. She wasn’t upset anymore, at least not outwardly, which meant he wouldn’t have to play defense to her outbursts come talking to these strangers. It was uncanny though for someone so talkative to be so silent.

“The doors on the side.” Foxtail muttered, pointing to an alleyway near the side of the building. Foreigner approached and knocked on the metal door. A door slit slid open, a singular bloodshot eye staring back at Foreigner with a general disdain.

“Hello. Is there a Rosko currently working at this place?” Foreigner asked.

“Who wants to know?” A voice like gravel replied, the singular eye narrowing with suspicion.

“I was informed by a mutual friend of theirs that I can pass on some information to the House if I get in contact with them.” Foreigner stated casually. With a snort, the eye disappeared and an assortment of bolts and locks were unlocked. A thick outpour of smoke and faint scented perfume erupted from the entrance, the seedy establishment hurting the eyes with its gaudy decor and neon signs. The doorman, or woman, returned to her station at a podium near the door, an opened medical kit on the stand. Her arms were covered in a green topical ointment and he could see a myriad of cuts and nicks from a weapon.

“Rosko’s the man at the end.” She pointed at the individual currently preparing a drink in a silver shaker before tending to her wounds.

“Let’s hurry up.” Foxtail muttered before walking on ahead of Foreigner towards the bar. She was right in the need to hurry but Foreigner was easily distracted by the ebb and flow of uproars with each parlor game, individuals surrounding tables and yelling with or at the expense of the gamblers attempting to win. Foreigner shook his head and approached, Foxtail having taken a seat with a glass of water.

“I takes it, you Foreigner? Dis’ little lady ‘ere told me a mutuals, a Mal-Chin Ma, sent ya my way?” Rosko spoke with an accent like oil, slick and black and probably up to no good. His hair was equally slicked back, a shine from either grease or hair product causing it to glimmer under the bar lights. He leaned in. “Now, I don’t knows what our pal has told ya, but imma draw a line quick like: I ain’t a fighter no more, so I don’t want any fixin’ business.”

“Well what good is he if he can’t help us with the kidnapping?” Foxtail looked at Foreigner with a furious impatience. Foreigner ignored her wrath and pressed forward with his own line of questioning.

“Okay, that’s fine by us. I take it Mal-Chin sent us here because you’re the kind of guy that can get us those Fixer connections. Maybe play in the ol’ information business. Help us locate our missing friend and maybe even get us a couple of fighters when things go south.” Foreigner looked at Rosko with an easy stare. He responded with a narrowing of his eyes.

“Well I can certainly getcha a couple of kneecappers, and I’m sure de house can see to finding who’s seen what around the backstreets for this missing amigo, but you won’t like da price of that request.” Rosko reached under the counter and pulled out a phone, its landline connected underneath in a springy pattern.

“If it’s money you need, I should have enough Ahn to pay for whatever expense you require.” Foreigner reached towards his pocket but Rosko lifted his hand to stop him.

“It ain’t easy money we want out here in the Blade Gardens. If you’s want some help from da house, you’s got to fight for it. You ready to duke it out in da Thorn Bed?” Rosko asked, his hand resting on something on the underside of the counter. Foxtail looked at Foreigner.

“I wanna fight.” The resolution was set in her eyes, an aggravation beneath her words.

“Do you think you’re of the sound mind to be fighting someone down there? Let alone a mystery fighter,” Foreigner turned to Rosko, “By the way, would weapons be allowed in there?”

“Any matter o’ implements can be brought witcha down in da pit. If she wants to fight, by all means. So long as it’s entertaining to de audience and da house makes a profit on the odds, you’re as good as gold.” Rosko smiled, revealing a number of golden grills in between faded yellow teeth. Foreigner looked back at Foxtail.

“Are you sure you want to go in the arena?” Foxtail jumped out of her bar stool and stretched her body a bit.

“If they want a show and some odds, what better way to give them what they want than to send a child into a den of monsters?” Foxtail took a full gulp of her drink before making her way to the stairs. “I can already see it, Foreigner: within an inch of my life and somehow pulling through. It’s all for Peepers.” Rosko pressed something under his counter and listened attentively to the other line.

“There’s a live one here. Yea, they’ve got two requests for ya. Of course, we can give ‘em da monster match up. They’s got one heading to de ring now. Alright. I’ll bring ya da charity case. Yessir boss.” Rosko placed the phone back underneath the counter and cleaned his section of the table before nodding for Foreigner to follow him down.

Foreigner had a bad feeling about all of this but they were better off with these options than not.