So you can’t tell from standing in any one place, but the the Central Church Underground is more or less the shape of a figure 8 with stands running along the outer edge. Well, you can see the thin part of the ‘8’ over there - that little gate? Goes to the other half, but they’re prepping, we’ll cover that when the action moves over there. Anyhow, as you’ve guessed by now, we house two main arenas, the first and most popular being the Ring of Light.

In the Ring of Light, nothing is personal, all stand equal in their quests for satisfaction, you know, inner peace. Between you and me, that means it’s our general purpose brawling platform. You take 20-30 guys - or girls, if they so wish - and let them at each other. Depending on the schedule, you pick a round time, and they have until the end of the clock to pound each other into the dust. Ha-ha! There goes one right now, hey, eyes on the matter at hand--

The method - it’s usually restricted to the upper body, fists, arms, elbows, maybe a headbutt if it doesn’t kill you. But we can mix it up, gotta keep things interesting, and that’s what the seasonal organizer is for. That’s me! You think I was picked for my looks? Aw, my face is red…

It’s a tough job, but there are some classics I always end up turning to. Sticks are always a good choice. Truck tyres, plates, chairs, - people have fun with those. Something blunt-ish, bendable is good, and of course you have to be able to catch a good grip - one of the organizers tried various balls - soccer balls, basketballs, bowling balls - and that was a bust. Plus when I was a kid, I remember people were hit in the head with balls all the time, it either hurt too much, or didn’t hurt nearly enough, which doesn't leave much room for play… but I digress.

Another criteria for the props, while they shouldn’t shatter instantly, they should be breakable. Preferably, breakable when used in a truly dangerous fashion. Such a flimsy concept and it’s difficult to test, but hey, this whole business is half instinct. Anyway. We give the people weapons that can hit a little harder, but will break before they make a fatal blow. When the pipe snaps or the splinters start showing on that two-by-four, that’s when you know you gotta stop. You hold up the weapon, and take a step back. Nobody goes after you. That’s the policy.

This is where things to get complicated. Nobody comes in really wanting to die, and we aren’t especially interested in killing our main market. That’s why we have policies like that. We’re all just… here for fun. But sometimes, the contestants have so much fun they lose sight of what they are, where they are, and that everyone is here for the same reason they are. They can’t stop coming down with that pipe, that table leg that -- oh man, what else - umbrella? Well whatever it is, that’s when our helpful presiding priests step in!

You’ve seen them around. You’ve seen them since you got here, of course, silly. But it's true, they’re all around. Usually wearing this, but you’ll notice, never the collar, that’s for the working guys, the ones who cover the jobs up there. Not that they can’t come down and mingle with us. Got a couple of them down here right now. 

Sure, they all look real similar from far away and people don’t tend to get close and check… ever think that's intentional? Blends them in, and keeps the upper level guys safe too. Black coats can hide a lot. Don’t want them getting bothered on the street. Maybe you guessed that by now. If you haven’t, there’s my little tip. Look for the collar, and the bruises, of course. And they also tend to be you know - pfff - bigger than the average guy on the street. Gotta be, they could be dealing with five to ten contestants at once. And they’re generally restricted to use what the contestants are - though in almost all cases, they only have faith in their own two hands.

See Ferris there? Prime example. Of course, he doesn't get out much. Hmm… today’s been smooth going, so it looks like there’s not much for him to do. He’s a big teddy bear, you should wave to him so he’ll recognize you next time! What, you don’t see him? How could you miss him? Ah- he’s checking the south stand.

Other than the safety regulations, there aren’t a whole lot of other rules. Teaming up is perfectly legal but - oh, that’s right. You seem like you’ve been listening, have you heard anything weird? Here -- I’ll give you a minute--

…

I gotta say, your city, your people - they're an impressive bunch. A lot of noise, a lot of voices, but not a real word to be heard, not from the arena anyway. That’s because - ahh, did you guess it? They aren’t allowed to talk. Talking builds all kind of negative energies and convoluted plots that can only end in madness. One guy says “Stop, I’ll give you a thousand bucks to stop!” or "no, my son and my wife and my liver!" and it’s all spoiled. Usually, when one relies on words, it means they can’t rely on their body’s strength. Oh, negotiation has it’s merit! Don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the point here. I said it before, I’ll say it again - Ring of Light - everyone’s equal. As equal as we can make them. Even we aren’t perfect.

Speaking of what incredible fools we are, betting is indeed allowed. But only bets of the nature that I just introduced. You don’t get names, teams, rates, and the like, you are only permitted to bet on the group. And the group itself never knows the numbers they’re being put up against. So you can cheer for anyone. Or no-one, if they’re like you and think everyone’s just going to bite it.

So rules, rules, rules. The arena’s a lot like your city up there, huh? We have these guidelines, and some of them are more serious than others, but people break ‘em once in a while, so what do we do? I was probably too harsh on you for pushing buttons on the subject of plain old speeding and stealing. It’s true, we can usually let those offenders leave with a solid slap on the wrist. But there are measures in place for greater offenders. Something you seem to not have time to consider - don’t worry, that’s not an insult! It’s why I’m so happy to have you here today, so we can… talk through it all.

A few seconds left on the clock. So take a look, what do you think? A lot of bodies, right? I was just kidding about the money, we can bring that up next time - after all, you’re a first-time guest. You wouldn’t have known ‘til I told you. We’ll stop a fight when weapons break, but human fists are actually a little more robust than our old pipes.

---

The Ring of Light was always the busy one, so Patches took some extra time to help Ferris, Lazlo and the rest of the day’s staff clean up during and after the round. There didn’t appear to be many offenders in the house today, but Patches was never fully confident in his ability to pick out the proper action points in the Ring of Light. It was not that he was too impulsive or saw things incorrectly (in fact the question of the visitor in the booth was still hanging at the back of his mind). But there was just too much going on, and he had never been a flawless tracker of multiple moving parts, all going equally fast, at the same time. There was a reason he was usually tasked with the much less active - but equally regarded - Ring of Justice.

“Look at all that,” Ferris trumpeted, waving an arm out at the collapsed contestants. “Don’t get such a scene that with pipes. Finally, something to do.” He had put down the broom and was already hauling four people over his shoulders.

Patches, as per usual, took a two by the collars and tugged them towards the entrance tunnel where they could recuperate (and be inspected and possibly be removed) in shadowed privacy. There was no real reason to drag them so far, but there was also no real standard for where to put the round’s casualties. Ferris always brought his to the stands and Lazlo took his the supply shed, but those areas filled up fast and Patches believed - or rather, vaguely remembered hearing at some point - that it was unpleasant to both fall asleep and wake up with people watching.

He knelt to rest the two contestants against each other at the mouth of the tunnel, and was struck with the inexplicable feeling that he was being watched again from somewhere he couldn’t see. He glanced down into the dimly lit cavern, to where the stairs would have been. It was too dark to see them.

The path stretched into a deep, dark shadowy maw, creeping with low echoes and a wind that was just loud enough to drown out the sound of breath or footsteps. Anyone or anything could have been down there. The same someone or something that had been breathing in the confessional next to him? Had it been a simple lost visitor? A contestant also searching for a quiet resting spot? Shadows shifted, dust stirred at the far end of the tunnel. 

He didn’t see anything, of course. It was just a feeling, again. It could have been rats. Tiamat was always saying rats would flood in if they didn't keep the place clean.

Back to work, then.

Patches blinked dizzily as he entered the spotlit Ring again. He was calm, but still basking in the unusual sensation of unwarranted suspicion. But shadows were only so exciting. It faded fast, and a good thing too.

It was almost time for him to attend to the Ring of Justice, and that was no place for doubts or exercises of the imagination.

---

Magnus was entranced by the fragant tea Tiamat had offered him. “So why do they do it?”

“Who does what now?”

“Why do so many people come just to beat each other up? From what you say, most of the time they end up grouped with a bunch of strangers.”

“By the end they may become friends. You never know who you’ll end up working with. Can’t talk, but doesn’t mean you can’t make a connection. I gotta imagine that’s one of the draws.” She rolled her sleeves in her fingers. “We don’t do census or anything. People get what they come here for, they don’t have to talk.”

“So you don’t know.”

“I told you, the purpose is just to have fun and blow off steam, so I just assume that's it. You saying you've never wanted to knock someone around, anyone? Maybe with a stick or two? Oh, and maybe gang up, and then check out for a free lunch? Obviously, some people appreciate these basic services. Beyond that, I don’t have to know.”

“You don’t have to know, but I probably should, since I’m supposed to be keeping people up there happy and healthy. I'd want to know if is something so wrong that people to line up to bash their heads against each other in a hidden fight club.” He sipped thoughtfully. “I’m still amazed that so many people seem to come down here and I never noticed. How do they get here? I didn’t see any parking.”

She laughed. “They take the buses and sidewalks! That - I’ll remind you - are products of your hard work.”

“And they just know how to get in?”

“Presumably, there isn’t much else to see. The chapel’s empty on days like these. It is almost magical, how they all seem to know. But believe me, we don't give a ton of direction. Your city's just real good at following instruction.”

"Or good at repressing complaints. Lots of hidden rage."

"In that case, we're balancing it out by hosting them here." Tiamat laughed.

“People are bizarre.” Magnus looked over the (terribly flimsy looking) wooden rail surrounding the dining area and watched the pit get cleared. “Do you monitor the kind of people who come in? Bet there’s some fascinating data to be had there.”

“Not precisely, but if they cause trouble upon entering, then the priests will take notice. A major troublemaker won't be forgotten. Again, punishment depends on the crime, and so on. Ah-” She spluttered into her own teacup. “That’s right, we should head over early!”

She got up and tugged at his sleeve. Magnus gave her a stiff smile but she did not let go. “Another round is starting, why don’t we finish up this tea.”

“There more than enough rounds and tea for us to come back to in the future. But the Ring of Justice pulled a contestant this week, and that’s not something you get to see every day. Come on, come on! This is the one you really have to see. You, more than anyone.”