The last song of the ancestors

Fadala was thrown into the ring. He rolled around the arena awkwardly, overbalanced and fell backwards onto the floor. He stared at the ceiling and the damn camera-drone as if it were a blowfly. His contracted face was broadcast on the big screen. The audience laughed at the shooter. It made him even angrier.

That idiot! Doesn't he know what strategy is? We've already won two fights, I don't need to reveal my skills to future opponents.

"Wake up to spit! The fight has already begun."

A dark figure appeared in the air. In a matter of seconds, the enemy attacked. The assassin managed to break free and get to his feet immediately afterwards. The spot where Fadala had been standing cracked with the impact of the blow.

Shomari was in Massai garb. A red tunic was draped over her right shoulder, and a checkered blanket covered her body like a cape. Her earlobes were enlarged. Her hair was very short and dark. She wore brass bracelets. Under his feet, sandals with recycled tire soles and goat leather straps.

The mortician noticed that his opponent was carrying the traditional mass weapons, the rungu and the staff. Unlike the other rungu, made of carved wood, his was made of bronze. It was a type of staff used for attacking and throwing. The handle had a slight curve, it thickened towards the tip, which ended in a massive sphere. The staff was a thin stick, also made of bronze, more flexible and with a pointed end.

"Your group won the round, but our fight hasn't been decided yet."

Fadala raised an arm, the audience was stunned. Shomari gritted his teeth, furious.

"I…"

Zump, Shomari threw the rungu at Fadala's head. The assassin shielded himself by drawing his firearm, knocking back the bronze projectile. The rungu returned to Shomari's hand. Fadala kept the pair of pistols with the safety catch and held them by the barrel. He was going to fight back with the butt of his gun.

"What? Don't hold back, Fadala. When you put me in this ring, you knew that any weapon could be used. The only rule here is to win and give the audience a good show. Do you think that if I were unarmed I would give up my weapons to fight you? Come with everything you've got!"

The style of fighting with Massai sticks, unlike what many Westerners have established, is sophisticated. The use of two weapons of different sizes and shapes allows them a variety of blows. They can attack and defend themselves at close and medium range.

To get around one of their weaknesses, the durability of their weapons, Shomari had them made from bronze. He systematized the techniques and perfected them in clandestine rings around the world. He now considered himself to have the most advanced and lethal style of massai stick fighting in the world.

With his staff, he applied a horizontal blow. He aimed for Fadala's knee. The assassin raised his leg and was hit in the shin. The pain was excruciating. The speed of the weapon hit him like a whip. The mortician stepped back. His leg was throbbing with pain. He had no time to recover.

Shomari attacked with a transversal blow with the rungu. His target was the shoulder. His opponent crossed his pistols and parried the attack in time. The massai applied pressure. With his free hand, he repeatedly struck his thigh with the stick. The pain was so great that the area went numb. Exhausted, Fadala kicked him in the stomach.

The Masai warrior fell a long distance. Shomari stood up with a broad smile on his face.

"You should have shot me when you had the chance."

The Ilâ Apanyan man's face twitched. He tried to walk, to no avail. His leg was paralyzed. Fadala understood what had happened. The consecutive attacks had reduced the blood circulation in his leg, which had dehydrated the area. Shomari had forced her body to cramp.

She tried to walk a single step, but her muscles contracted more forcefully. She didn't move a single step. She gave up making any effort to do so.

What a dangerous man…

Shomari took advantage of Fadala's static appearance and tried to hit his elbow with her staff. As soon as his opponent made a break for it, he would crack his head with the rungu. His plan was anticipated by the assassin. He made the stick fit the trigger of one of the pistols, and wrapped the massai's arm around his neck, choking him.

The two of them went toe-to-toe. Shomari was getting the better of him. He was running out of air. Purple veins were popping out of his neck. With his rungu, he hit Fadala's arm at the elbow. He sought to break the joint. This would give him a huge advantage in the contest. He landed one, two, three consecutive blows.

At this point, Fadala was raising his arm, and the most the other man could hit was the upper arm. This punished his humerus. Finally, Shomari let go of the stick and jabbed his opponent in the stomach to push him away. The man, his leg still cramping, overbalanced and fell.

The warrior raised his rungu like a hammer with both hands and struck the final blow. Fadala knew how dependent fighters who used weapons were on them.

Unlike the Ilê Apanyan assassins for hire, who learned every style of martial arts to the point where their bodies became weapons, experts in some kind of weaponry were at the mercy of a hand-to-hand fight. On this occasion, they could only rely on their brute strength. Which is not always an effective solution in combat.

The rungu hit the floor with a thud, but didn't hit Fadala, who dodged at the last moment. In a quick counterattack, he dropped both pistols. The assassin separated one of Shomari's arms and applied a Kimura Sweep. With one hand, he grabbed his opponent's wrist. With his other arm, he held his shoulder. His cramped leg compressed his opponent's stomach, and the other was placed around the massai's waist.

The other warrior tried as hard as he could to break away from his opponent's blow. The more he struggled, the more he was trapped in that deadly embrace. The variation of the jiu-jitsu technique proved effective in submitting his opponent. Even with all his muscles tensed, Shomari couldn't escape. She collapsed on the ground.

Fadal stood up. The big screen displayed his name in bold letters with the word 'Winner' underneath. He picked up his pistols from the floor. He left the ring with a limp on one leg. He saw the paramedics pull Shomari out. The assassin went to his teammates, prepared a herbal cigarette and waited for the next fight to start.