A Night at the Blindfold

[DoS Archive]

From: blindfoldproxy@aol.com (Blindfold proxy)
Date: 22 May 2002 23:20:57 EDT

A Night at the Blindfold


Riddick had received a letter from a pal of his one Friday, stating in nervous scribbles of red ink on yellow notebook paper: "Rid man, you won't believe what goes down at the Blindfold on Wednesday nights. Cancel whatever plans you have this coming Wednesday, we're taking a trip. Blisko." He was looking it over again that Wednesday as he sat on the street curb. They had agreed yesterday to meet there at 6:00. Riddick's watch now read 6:03.
Up the road, Blisko's polished, blue-and-yellow Thunderbird roared and screeched until it parked itself a few feet in front of Riddick. Blisko stuck his arm out of the driver's side window and waved for Riddick to get in the car. "Let's go, let's go! We need to hurry up if we want to get a good parking space, otherwise we'll be parking a mile down the street." Riddick rolled his eyes as he rounded the car.
"You're going to give yourself a heart attack one of these days," he muttered under his breath, and pocketed the note.

A half an hour later, they were still traveling down the highway, which had changed from a smooth blacktop to a mix of sand and gravel. Around them, Riddick could see nothing but trees gliding past against the maroon sky. He had noticed a few vehicles ahead and behind them going the same way, nut counted none heading in the opposite direction. He reached over to turn down the volume knob on the stereo, and the techno that thus far had filled the
void of conversation quieted.
"So, did you plan on filling me in on what to expect, and why we're out in the middle of nowhere?" he finally made himself ask. Blisko grinned with a sly air, peering down the road. His eyes were unusually wide.
"If it were a little darker, you could see the lights on the horizon," he answered, and then grunted as if his own words amused him. "I don't want to spoil it for you. Just know that you'll be betting on a sporting event between two individuals. Did you bring plenty of money like I told you? Because--"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Good, because the minimum bet's five hundred, and you need a betting ticket to watch it." Blisko ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, his eyes wide as ever.
"I don't get it," Riddick said, "just a few years ago, I heard that the Blindfold was just some slot-machine strip-club bordello.
"It's changed," Blisko responded, chuckling hysterically. "Man, has it changed."

Moments later, as the rising tide of blackness pushed westward carrying in the stars, Riddick saw three beams of white spotlighting the sky. The forest on their right parted shortly thereafter, and when Blisko turned the car, the main entrance of the Blindfold stood directly before them, its tall iron gates pulled inward. Riddick only caught a glimpse of the lit sign hovering above that spelled "The Blindfold" in neon-pink cursive.
They got one of the last few open spaces behind the gates, and Blisko said they were fortunate because "security drops off the charts when you got to park outside on the road." As they got out of the car, Riddick's feet stepped on what he determined to be black marble. Almost the entire lot was paved with it. "Are you kidding me?"
"This place is high class. There must be all kinds of money running through it," informed Blisko. They began their trek toward the main building, which was still a good distance away.
As it turned out, the building was not their destination, but rather the stadium that arose behind it. A broad cement walkway flanked one side of the mansion, and small crowds of people were already following it around. As Blisko and Riddick walked along, the stadium stood on their right as a dense network of steel beams and wooden planks. They could already hear the clamor of voices boiling inside. On the lawn to their left was one of the three
giant spotlights still stirring the air.
Numb with awe, Riddick didn't put much of a fight about who to bet on, so Blisko placed both of their bets on what the line considered to be the safe one, so as not to lose all of their money, he said. They presented their slips to the security guard at one of the deck entrances, who waved them passed without so much as a word, leaving them to find their own seats.
The arena was at least two-thirds full; Riddick estimated that it could hold a good fifteen thousand. The ground at the center was covered with sand and a great ring outlined with four-foot-tall torches standing ablaze. Only two ramps led to it, on opposite sides, each with a door of iron bars held open by a chain. Blisko grinned with excitement. "Well, what do you think?"
"I was not expecting this," Riddick answered. Blisko just laughed.

By the time the arena was nearly at full capacity, a tan, bald fellow in a tuxedo had made his way down the east ramp and was standing at center ring with a cordless microphone. The audience grew quiet. "Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and anyone else to whom neither of these terms apply," his voice boomed over the PA, followed by sparse laughter from the crowd. "Is everyone ready for tonight's . . . Duel of the Week?!" A deafening roar
erupted--yes, they were. "Introducing first, a former winner of the Blindfold's Duel of the Week contest, please welcome Rasp 'The Asp' Gorgoa!" Down the ramp strode a man in dark, sleeveless armor, and a tattoo of a snake wrapped around his left arm; he received various cheers and boos, but appeared unaffected by them. "That's our man," Blisko said.
"Introducing his opponent, a newcomer to the Duel of the Week contest, please welcome the Awesome Aaron Tantula!" Following in Rasp's footsteps was an individual in white armor, fully clothed, glancing here and there at the audience. He took the corner opposite Rasp, knelt, and prayed. "The duel will begin once both gates are closed and secure," the man in the tux amended before turning off the microphone and speaking with both duelists in brief.
As he left the ring, the two duelists retook their corners. Men dressed in black, wearing simple masks that fully covered their faces, stepped down both ramps and slammed the gates shut. People began to pump their firsts and shout.
Despite the energy of the crowd, the duel kicked off at a slow pace. Aaron with a bastard sword, the Asp with a broad; both men merely tested each other. Riddick had trouble understanding why so many people would cheer for two men who did not appear to be all that well known. A few minutes into it, he caught sight of a figure just behind the west gate, clothed in a black cloak, watching. "Who is that?" he asked Blisko and pointed.
"I don't know. I noticed him there last week."
"That's the dueling proxy," came a rough voice from Riddick's side opposite Blisko. It belonged to a somewhat obese man wearing a cowboy hat and nursing a cigar.
"Dueling . . . proxy?" The odor of smoke and perspiration was pungent.
"That's right. Word is he duels in venues outside the Blindfold, as sort of a representative. I reckon it's for publicity." The man coughed. "There he stands, every blasted week I've been here. I swear he's got some sort of grim-reaper complex." Blisko chuckled.
Meanwhile, the two combatants were attacking each other with greater intensity. The Asp's right arm soon had a deep gash and bled profusely; Aaron's footwork was slowing as a sign of fatigue. He executed a desperate thrust, but the Asp, with tightened muscles, rounded a parry that sent his opponent's sword swinging outward, and immediately snapped a kick up into his chin. The Awesome Aaron lost his grip on the hilt and fell limp on his back along
side his weapon, showing no signs of movement except for the rising and falling of his left forearm. Victorious, the Asp threw up his arms, the broadsword still in one hand. The crowd fell silent.
"All right, we won--" Riddick started, but the Asp had yet to cease. He stepped toward Aaron's body, whirling his blade in a brilliant arc, and then plunged it through the left breastplate. As the steel split metal and bone, Aaron's muscles spasmed around it, then, little by little, relaxed. Riddick felt his stomach capsize.
The crowd exploded in more boos and cheers. The west gate was flung open, and two masked men rushed out--the cloaked figure was no longer there. They carried Aaron's body back with them, and just as the west gate closed, the east opened, where the Asp eagerly waited with his bloodstained blade by his side. Empty bottles had begun to fly at him from the hands of dissatisfied gamblers. Riddick watched wide-eyed, holding his breath, and Blisko
wouldn't stop laughing.