The last song of the ancestors

Arcenoux LeBlanc, Bloody Mary and Eniac II watched the first round uneasily, although they didn't show it. The most restless spirit was the English countess.

"That man is joking, if he took this fight more seriously, he would have shot that damn massai."

She looked like a woman from the Victorian period, taken to the future by H.G. Wells' time machine. Her skin was very pale. She had deep circles under her eyes, as if she never slept. Her lipstick looked like a smear of blood. Her hair fell black and straight like a shroud. A felt hat with long, pointed brims covered it. The leather corset slimmed her waist, making her look sexy.

She looked like a young urban goth, but her years were countless. Witchcraft had granted her youth in exchange for a few sacrifices, as well as the spotlight of the English authorities. So that her talents wouldn't go to waste, she was invited, or rather blackmailed, into joining MI6, the UK Intelligence Service.

At her side, no less concerned about how the tournament was going, was the ex-SEAL. Leaning back in his chair, his arms resting on his neck, he chewed on a matchstick.

"He's using this ploy to avoid showing his vrai abilities. Il 's ingenious, mai si je were him, je'd do pareil."

Arcenoux had plenty of experience in infiltration, he knew how to be subtle. He acted as a fake bounty hunter, but was actually acting on orders from the CIA. He was one of the most experienced agents in black ops, high-risk missions that carried out dirty work on behalf of the US government.

The bounty hunter was born in Lake Arthur, Louisiana. His curly brown hair was tucked under a dark cowboy hat. His mature face was covered in freckles and his eyes were bright green and vivid. His pointed goatee gave the impression that his face was longer. He was slim and tall. He wore a small dark vest and ripped knee-length jeans. His boots with silver spurs turned with every step he took.

The fight between Fadala and Shomari ended with the undertaker winning. The screen was split in half. On each side, three squares were printed with the faces of those selected for the round. The members of the Anglo-American Alliance looked at their opponents. They noticed that there was a child among their opponents.

Arcenoux was chosen by his manager. The English noblewoman hid a small smile behind her black silk gloves. The child called Tan was chosen to face him. The bounty hunter rose from his chair, annoyed.

"Ah! je don't envie to babysit. Je'll va and donner up."

"Don't do that, Mr. Arcenoux, you'll arouse suspicion."

Arcenoux looked at his cyborg companion. His face, half robotized, with a red lens in place of his left eye, gave away his man-machine hybrid nature. He was three meters tall, the result of an operation that gave him a bio-metallic endo-skeleton, and muscles lined with intelligent nano-filament fabrics that made his body stronger and more resistant than any other human being.

He concealed his many scars with a long overcoat zipped up to his navel. His clawed hands protruded from the torn cuffs of his overcoat like bear claws. His moss-green camouflage pants and polished leather long boots gave him a militarized look.

"I don't aimer killing children, our superiors know joliment bien that je don't get involved dans missions aimer that."

"He's not an ordinary child."

"What do vous mean?"

As if he were an automaton at a station serving information to customers, Eniac II declared in an inhuman way:

"Codename: Tan. Sex: male. Age: unknown. Origin: Botswana. Member of the Tswana people, bio-sculpted warrior with leonine genome traits. Simulating combat between Arcenoux and Tan. Chance of victory for Arcenoux in a hand-to-hand fight, zero percent chance…"

"All right, non more simulations! Vous know how to cheer up a compatriot, don't vous, Eniac II?"

"Thank you, sir. I'm happy to be of service."

Arcenoux rolled his eyes. He took his Colt 1892 revolver out of its holster, removed the six bullets and included a clear-tipped projectile with a yellowish liquid inside.

"Don't underestimate the enemy just because he looks like a child."

"Shut up, Mr. Eniac II. Vous're a terrible motivational coach."

The Cajun gunfighter headed towards the ring. On the other side was a young man of no more than thirteen. He wore the typical Tswana costume: a tshega that covered his waist, and a kaross, a sheepskin covering, with a dyed print made in bas-relief on the hair of the garment. Brown leather bracelets and leggings completed her outfit.

He had two round, furry ears on top of his head. His hair was disheveled, giving him a wild look. His pupils were a vertical slit, like those of the savannah cats. He had a restless manner.

"I thought you weren't coming, meow."

"You're a lion, shouldn't vous roar?"

"You're right, sir, the king can't be respected if he doesn't really perform."

As he said this, the young man got down on all fours on the ground. He underwent a metamorphosis that astonished the gunman. Tan's muscles contracted beneath his skin. His limbs grew. His hair became a mane and a lion's tail emerged from under his tshega. His hands became retractable claws. The result of the gene activation was that he became twice as big as a normal lion.

"Shall we play? How about cat and mouse?"

"No, thank vous."

Bang! Arcenoux shot him in the shoulder. The bullet didn't penetrate beyond the muscle layer of Tan's shoulder. The bio-sculpture nibbled on the bullet and spat it out onto the ground.

"What is that, a mosquito bite?"

This tranquilizer dart puts a rhinoceros to sommeil dans less than cinq seconds. Il doesn’t seem to have any effect sur lions. Je guess je should have holstered my revolver… glup.

Tan jumped on the bounty hunter as if he were a zebra, an easy prey to be shot.