After securing him, Ethan searched the area and found a silver candlestick on the lid—clearly a matching piece to the one that had just fallen.
—You just stole two candlesticks and shot at me,— Ethan said, frowning.
Angrily, he snatched the visor cap off the thief's head and slapped it on his own.
—I was scared... I didn't want to hurt anyone,— the thief said pitifully.
—That's fine. Now head to jail—and take it slow. Hope you enjoy picking up the soap.—
Still upset, Ethan lifted his cap and asked Emmett to take the thief to the station for processing. The next day, he'd be attending his arraignment in court and would spend a few days in jail until his trial date was set.
Returning to where he'd stepped out of the car, Ethan knocked on the mayor's wife's door.
—Mrs. Kendall, we just apprehended the suspect,— Ethan reported, his tone calm but with a slight hint of satisfaction.
—Oh, thank God, Ethan. Is everything alright? No issues?— Jenny replied with a sigh of relief, the weight of worry evident in her voice.
Ethan smiled, even though she couldn't see it.
—Nothing I couldn't handle. The guy tried to run, but he's in custody now.—
—Alright. Take care, Officer Morgan. And thank you.—
After the door closed, he headed back to the car, his mind already moving to the next part of the day—maybe it was time for lunch.
That afternoon, Alma received a radio notification asking her to go to the hospital.
Banshee Town Hospital, Emergency Room, Second Floor
As soon as Ethan stepped out of the elevator, he saw Siobhan staring through the glass of the room with a solemn expression.
—Remember that UFC fighter, Sánchez?—
—I remember. From yesterday, outside the Kinaho tribe casino.—
—This morning, a woman was found outside Sánchez's trailer. She was wrapped only in a bath towel. There were clear signs of assault—bruises all over her body and some broken ribs.—
Siobhan clenched her teeth and said:
—Needless to say, you know what happened to her, right?—
Ethan nodded and looked into the room through the glass. The woman lying in the hospital bed had treated wounds all over her face, swollen so badly she was nearly unrecognizable.
Hood was actually inside the room, consoling the injured woman.
—Did she name Sánchez as the attacker?—
—Yes, she said Damien Sánchez raped her last night. She's a waitress at the casino. Apparently, Sánchez asked her to bring a bottle of champagne to his trailer. Between the champagne and some cocaine, after they had sex, he turned violent.—
As soon as she finished speaking, Hood exited the room.
—Chief, what should we do?— Siobhan asked eagerly.
There was a fierce look in Hood's eyes.
—We do what needs to be done. Let's go. We're locking that bastard up.—
Several police cars, lights flashing, sped toward the casino entrance and stopped. The valet waved at them to park, but the officers had no intention of stopping. The boy trembled and quickly stepped aside.
Inside the casino, the central space had been cleared, and a partially assembled octagonal cage stood. Tonight was an exhibition match, and the main fight wouldn't start until tomorrow.
The casino was packed. Events like this were rare in Banshee Town. Everyone who had time came and praised Proctor and the chief of the Kinaho tribe.
In the ring, Sánchez was hugging several female guests and taking pictures, flashing peace signs with his hands. His smile faltered when he saw Hood and the others enter. Realizing something, he looked at his agent, Dunn, and then at Proctor.
Proctor quickly stepped forward and extended a hand to stop Hood. This fight had been planned for a long time, and he didn't want it ruined.
—Chief Hood, I heard what happened to that poor girl. How is she now?—
—Looks like she got hit by a train. Her face is wrecked and she's got two broken ribs,— Hood said stiffly.
—I'm truly sorry about what happened, but could I ask you to wait until after tomorrow night's match to arrest Sánchez?—
Proctor looked at Hood seriously and added:
—You must understand this match involves a lot of people's interests. If it's canceled, a lot of people are going to lose money.—
—Are you insane?— Siobhan, standing behind him, stepped forward angrily. —That girl was hurt like that and all you care about is money?—
—Siobhan, calm down. I've got this.—
—Chief Hood, you're not actually considering his request, are you? You saw with your own eyes what kind of damage that girl suffered.—
At that moment, Sánchez's agent, Dunn, also stepped forward and said:
—Sheriff, first of all, thank you for your careful consideration. You know, these things can always be resolved.—
—You mean this has happened more than once?— Hood's eyes flashed dangerously.
Dunn smiled.
—Come on, we're all adults here. I understand how things work. I'll go visit the girl in the hospital tomorrow. It's just money, right? They sleep with celebrities for that anyway. I'll make her an offer she can't refuse.—
—Your name's Dunn, right?— Hood said. —Get out of my way, shut your mouth, and don't let me see you again, or I promise you'll regret it.—
Hood shoved Dunn aside and was about to walk toward the ring.
—Wait a minute, let me handle this, Chief,— Ethan said, extending his hand to stop him.
As Ethan entered the casino, a message echoed in his mind, and a new task popped up on the system panel:
System Mission: Defeat Damien Sánchez.
Reward: +1 Skill Book.—
Of course, he couldn't pass up a system reward. Even though Sánchez was a professional UFC fighter, he had to try—who knew when the next mission would come.
—Alright, be careful,— Hood said, looking at Ethan with surprise before stepping back.
Ethan nodded, stepped forward, and walked through the crowd. Just as he approached the ring, a bodyguard noticed Dunn give a subtle nod. Reluctantly, the guard moved to stop Ethan.
Without a word, Ethan kicked him in the stomach. The guard stumbled back several steps, knocking over a table and collapsing on the ground.
—Officer, come on, Benny was just doing his job, WTF?— Sánchez said, pushing aside the woman in his arms who had hoped for a photo. He walked to the edge of the ring, straightened his suit, then crouched and looked down at Ethan.
—Mr. Sánchez, you're under arrest for sexual assault and aggravated battery.—
Sánchez's face changed for a moment upon hearing Ethan's words, then he laughed and ran his hands through his hair mockingly. He decided that even if he got arrested, he'd land a few heavy hits on the small-town cop in front of him. Straightening up, Sánchez stretched out his arms and said with a smirk:
—I'm under arrest?— he asked with a mocking grin, tone full of defiance. —Come and cuff me... if you can.—
The other man wasn't armed, and with a crowd watching, Ethan couldn't just shoot him—or he'd end up in jail before Sánchez.
Ethan calmly removed his duty belt. It was packed with gear and would only hinder his movement. He tossed it to Siobhan and moved quickly toward the ring.
Sánchez clenched his fists, stretching toward Ethan with a sneer on his lips.
Ethan climbed into the ring with determined steps, his gaze locked on Sánchez, who looked back with a mix of amusement and contempt. The crowd roared in anticipation. With his impressive physique and pro-fighter reputation, Sánchez clearly didn't take Ethan seriously.
—I warned you, cop,— Sánchez said, launching a quick punch that Ethan barely dodged. —This is my turf.—
Ethan didn't reply. Instead, he threw a straight punch at Sánchez's face—quick and clean. The blow landed squarely, making Sánchez stumble back, stunned by its force.
Now more serious, Sánchez unleashed a flurry of fast punches, trying to end it quickly. Ethan blocked some and took others to the body, feeling the power behind each hit. But he stayed composed, dodging and countering with precision.
At a critical moment, Sánchez yelped in pain and released the grip he had on Ethan. Seizing the chance, Ethan tilted his head back and then lunged forward. A vicious headbutt struck the bridge of Sánchez's nose, and the fighter collapsed instantly. Blood poured from his face.
—Shit! What the hell are you doing?— Sánchez shouted, clutching his bleeding nose.
—You think this is a UFC fight?— Ethan snapped, charging forward.
With a quick move, Ethan wrapped his arms around Sánchez's waist, lowered his head, and slammed forward. Both men tumbled out of the ring, crashing into several tables as the crowd scattered in a panic.
From the edge of the ring, Siobhan watched with concern, holding a baton.
—Why don't we jump in and help him?— she asked Hood, worried.
—Don't worry. Doesn't look like he needs it,— Hood replied, fists clenched, clearly itching to join in.
After hitting the floor, Ethan mounted Sánchez and began raining punches down like a storm. But something felt off—he freed his left hand from blocking and hit Sánchez in the face. Then, without hesitation, he shot his left hand like lightning and smashed Sánchez in the groin.
The burly fighter froze, his face contorting in pain. He let out a few groans before curling to the side, completely incapacitated.
Breathing heavily, Ethan wiped the blood from his face, gritted his teeth, and crawled over to Sánchez. He grabbed his arm, pressed his legs against the fighter's neck, and twisted with ruthless force. A sickening crack echoed as Sánchez screamed, tears streaming down his face while he pounded the floor with his free hand.
—You thought this was a game?— Ethan snarled, gasping. —You like hurting helpless women? Like beating them? How's it feel, bastard?—
With uncontrollable rage, Ethan mounted Sánchez. Under the bright casino lights, horrified spectators watched as Ethan lifted his fists and slammed them down again and again into Sánchez's bloodied face.
—That's enough, Ethan! You're going to kill him!— Siobhan shouted as she and Hood rushed to pull him off.
Hood and Siobhan managed to drag Ethan away from Sánchez, who lay on the ground, bloodied and utterly defeated. His strength was gone.
Still gasping, Ethan looked at Siobhan and managed a faint smile despite the pain. He knew he'd just faced a professional fighter—and won. Sánchez's hits had been brutal. But he had stayed on his feet and completed the mission.
After Ethan calmed down for a moment, he fastened his duty belt around his waist. Then he grabbed a handful of ice cubes from the bucket on the table beside him and pressed them to his face.
—Siobhan, call an ambulance for this piece of trash,— he said, before turning to his partner. —Chief, I think I need a drink.—
—No problem,— Siobhan replied, nodding firmly.
Hood patted Ethan on the shoulder. Unexpectedly, this man—who seemed so gentle and affable—had shown a cruelty that left Sánchez in a condition that would keep him in the hospital for several months. Candy was supposed to be the referee for that evening's exhibition match, but for obvious reasons, the event was canceled. Hood drove Ethan back to the bar in his car.
Candy stood behind the bar with a worried expression as she wrapped some ice cubes in a towel and handed it to Ethan.
—Here, this will help.—
—Sugar, this time give me vodka. Straight. No ice,— Ethan ordered as he wiped the blood from his face with the towel.
—Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital for a check-up? You look awful,— Sugar said, pouring wine for both him and Hood.
—No need. It's just a surface wound. I'll be fine after some rest,— Ethan replied, grabbing the glass of wine with trembling hands and downing it in one gulp, feeling the burn of the alcohol in his throat.
Hood, idly toying with his wine glass, watched Ethan with curiosity.
—Why do you do this? You know, you can let me handle it.—
Ethan let out a long sigh, the alcohol helping him relax.
—What he did to that girl was disgusting. I wanted to do something for her. At least now Sánchez can't do that to any more women.—
After a few shots of straight vodka, Ethan felt his whole body relax.
—By the way, once you get rid of the gold watch, give me a cut of the money,— he added, wiping his face again.
—What gold watch?— Hood's hand paused for a moment before he picked up his whiskey and sipped it slowly, as if nothing had happened.
—Sánchez's gold watch is in your pants pocket, isn't it? Don't get nervous. I don't care—Sánchez is a scumbag. Just give me a share. I'm the one who took the hits, after all,— Ethan said with a grin.
The atmosphere in the bar suddenly went quiet. Hood drank silently while Sugar wiped down the counter with a towel. The tension was still thick, but for now, it seemed like things might settle down.
Suddenly, the sound of screeching brakes outside shattered the calm. The door burst open and Proctor stormed in, stopping at the entrance and glaring at them with a mix of disdain and frustration.
—Kai, can I get you something?— Sugar asked, trying to ease the mood.
Proctor ignored her and fixed his eyes on Hood.
—You know what, Chief Hood? You made a lot of people lose a lot of money tonight.—
—You made me lose a lot of money!— Proctor raised his voice, clearly agitated.
—Why don't you tell that to Sánchez? He's the one who started all this, right? Should've kept his pants on and stayed out of trouble,— Hood replied, standing up and walking toward Proctor with a defiant air.
—I didn't say you couldn't arrest him. I just asked you to hold off for a day,— Proctor said, reprimanding him.
He paused, then continued.
—There are things you don't know. I had a very good relationship with your predecessors. I'd hate to see that friendship go to waste.—
—It's a shame we don't share that kind of friendship. And Mr. Proctor, what makes you think you can come in here at night and tell the chief of police what he should or shouldn't do?— Hood responded with an icy calm that contrasted with the charged atmosphere.
Proctor hadn't expected such a strong reaction from Hood, but he didn't care. He smirked with disdain and ignored Hood, walking over to the bar with a jittery attitude.
—Mr. Proctor, if you don't mind, we'd like to keep drinking,— Ethan said, raising his glass in a toast.
Proctor glanced at the injuries on Ethan's face and tapped his fingers on the bar a couple of times before speaking.
—Forget it. I hope nothing this unpleasant happens again.—
With that, Proctor left the bar, leaving Ethan, Hood, and Sugar in an atmosphere that, while still tense, felt a bit calmer. Ethan slumped back into his seat, letting out a long sigh. Sugar approached with another vodka for him, while Hood sat silently, lost in thought.
Ethan took a sip of his drink, feeling the alcohol soothe his aching body.
—Thanks,— he said with a tired smile. —Sometimes, you have to take drastic measures to make people realize what's wrong.—
Hood gave Ethan a slight nod.
—You did good. Sánchez is no longer a threat. And Proctor... well, we'll see what he does—
Candy, still looking worried, smiled faintly.
—I hope next time things are a little less messy.—
—To justice, even when it comes at a high price.—Ethan raised his glass in a toast to his friends.
And so, as the bar returned to normal, the three of them settled into their seats, knowing the night had brought more than just a fight.