The last song of the ancestors

"HELP!"

It was impossible to keep my composure as I watched the scene. Arcenoux was running in circles with Tan in his wake. With his hands outstretched in the air and emitting high-pitched shrieks, he was running away from the retractable claws of the Tswana predator.

Countess Bloody Mary and Eniac II hid their faces. They were too embarrassed to watch the scene. Irritated, she squawked:

"What does that ignoramus think you're doing?"

"Embarrassing yourself, madam."

"Let's pretend we don't know you, Mr. Eniac II."

"That's correct, ma'am."

The bio-sculpted man roared and jumped on the gunman. At first, he was amused by the standoff. After the spectators started laughing at the situation, he became irritated. He felt he was making a fool of himself.

"Come on and fight like a man."

The mercenary refused to comply with his opponent's request and sped up his run even more. Tan tensed every muscle in his body, waited for the right moment and leapt towards Arcenoux. With his back against the transparent wall, the cajun had nowhere else to run or retreat. He raised his revolver and pointed it at the Tswana boy's muzzle.

Tan slid a few centimeters, but stopped next to Arcenoux. The firearm was an unexpected element. He put both arms to his face in self-defense. Tlic...

"What, you don't have any bullets?"

The American kicked his opponent in the stomach. The impact made Tan lean forward. Arcenoux stepped on the bio-sculpted man's left knee and used the momentum to kick him under the chin. The feliform fell backwards onto the ground. It got up with some difficulty. It licked its claws and roared:

"Why didn't you fight for real before, foreigner?"

"Strength? Vous borrow il from another bête species thanks to biotechnology. There are advantages, mai there's pacane to be fier of dans being bio-sculpted."

"Who do you think you are to talk to me like that, you cretin? You don't know what I've been through in my life. Thanks to this power, I was able to free myself from my kidnappers. Don't underestimate my strength."

Arcenoux had no idea of the pain Tan was carrying. But he understood where it came from. Intelligence agencies were familiar with the African dilemma of children being kidnapped by criminal factions and terrorist groups. These young people, most of them men, were turned into killing machines.

Whether as cyborgs or bio-sculpted like Tan, they served the interests of the criminals. There was an intense trade in child trafficking within the continent. It was so profitable that some authorities turned a blind eye to the phenomenon.

Tan had escaped after killing the members of the organization who had bio-sculpted his body, but the traumas remained. Rejected by his family, he returned to crime serving as a debt collector for loan sharks. Then he heard about a clandestine fighting tournament taking place underground in Ilu Nla. If he won, he would use the money to reverse the case. It was a dream he kept quiet.

He felt he was close. Few things stood in his way. Among those things, Arcenoux LeBlanc.

"Die, you damned foreigner!"

The fight became fierce after the gunman's bluff. Tan recovered from his opponent's initial attack, but his movements slowed down. It was the delayed effect of the tranquilizer. Despite this, he still maintained his full strength. His blows were fatal due to his claws, and indefensible due to his brute strength.

The American retreated to the walls. Tan jumped on him and tried to drive his claws into the bounty hunter's throat. The ex-military rolled on the floor. The leonine claws dug hard into the wall. While he was trying to get his hands stuck in the wall, Arcenoux seized the moment to attack him from behind.

Using savate blows, Arcenoux punished Tan with several kicks. The style of fighting popular in Cajun communities in the United States and Canada was developed by the French. In the 18th century, when France was an overseas empire vying for global hegemony with England.

French sailors, on their long ocean voyages, practiced stretching and kicking exercises in the open air. These same sailors would drunkenly wander around the ports picking fights with natives or other sailors. Needing their hands to work on the ships, they fought by kicking, including stomping their opponent.

This early style of fighting was called chassoun, in reference to the slippers worn by the sailors. In the 19th century, with the rise of Napoleon Bonaparte, the French Navy created a new form of punishment. The prisoner, with his arms immobilized by two men, was kicked in the buttocks by a third. This was called savate, 'the old shoe'.

Michael Casseuse systematized the style and refined it to the point where it became a recognized martial art. Blows with closed hands were included, absorbed from English boxing. An excellent martial art for keeping your distance from opponents with greater physical strength. Arcenoux was putting this advantage to good use against Tan.

The sequences of circular kicks to the ribs, stomps to the calves and punches to the head had left the Tswana vulnerable. He couldn't disengage his claws from the holes with the gunman assaulting him. He decided to use his leonine tail. It wrapped around the mercenary's leg and sent him sliding away.

Tan managed to get out of the situation. However, his reflexes were already slowing down. His vision was blurred. But his nose was still intact. He galloped towards his opponent and tried to tear his neck out with a paw. Arcenoux dodged with difficulty. His hat was thrown a distance.

"Gotcha!"

The cajun didn't have time to react, another blow was delivered to his belly. The claws left their mark on his opponent's belly. The gunman kicked Tan in the neck. A blow that would have broken his bones in a normal human, it didn't make a scratch. The feliform slapped his opponent on the head once more. This time, the gunman was hit hard and rolled across the ring.

The Tswana fell on him. It bit into his shoulder, tearing off a huge chunk of flesh. It raked its claws across the other's back several times, tearing off several strands of skin. Arcenoux screamed in pain. Several women watching the scene covered their faces. The blows continued in sequence and gradually slowed down.

Finally, Tan closed his eyelids and turned his head as if he were dizzy. He fell on Arcenoux. The enormous weight of the bio-sculpture almost suffocated him, and the only reason he didn't faint with the tswana was because the boy's metamorphosis went backwards. The cajun crawled away from the teenager. He spat out a trickle of blood.

The tranquilizer pris a long fois to ouvrage. Je'm going to sue the supplier, attendre pour il…

Victory was declared for Arcenoux LeBlanc. On hearing this, the gunman got up from the floor and, as if he were doing an Olympic lap, thanked the crowd. As the paramedics ran after him to give him first aid, a hemorrhage cascaded down his back.

Bloody Mary looked at the screen and saw her name pop up. The other agent had selected his opponent. He looked like a teenager, with dark skin and Asian features. He was wearing a green and red hanfu. His straight hair was covered by a black wool beret. It was Njora, the Sino-Kenyan martial artist.

The countess stood up and walked towards the ring. She felt excited by that young man with his deep-set eyes and composed posture. A bead of hot sweat trickled down her breasts. She shook herself with her fan. Her veins throbbed.