Maybe there was a little part of Miss Planner trying to enjoy the atmosphere and get a little 'warlike,' or whatever. She was on her fifth beer. And she'd started placing bets, too. Some of the fights went down to the wire, with one contestant or another briefly pulling ahead and then getting knocked down in a matter of seconds. There were even moments when she got caught up in the excitement and lost track of which fighter she had money on.

"It's the final round," whispered the Knife Maniac, one hand around Miss Planner's waist and another hidden inside a tub of popcorn.

"What? Already? Wow..." said Miss Planner absently, looking down at her notebook as if she was still sober enough to make sense of what was there. She'd written down a lot over the last hour and a half: ideas about branding and business plans and 'lifestyle design' or whatever. Mostly, it was just gibberish.

"I didn't think you'd want to stick around this long," said the Knife Maniac, nuzzling against Miss Planner's neck in between words. "Looks like you're a little more into this stuff than I thought."

Miss Planner felt herself blush at the attention, even as her mind drifted off into space. It was true that the atmosphere wasn't for her. The place had a kind of carnival atmosphere that she wasn't really fond of: bright lights and loud music and obnoxious personalities shouting for blood while throwing their money away on overpriced junk food. But... there was something appealing about it, too? She couldn't quite understand it...

"It's kind of fun, in a weird sort of way..." she muttered under her breath, trying to figure out why.

"You think?" whispered the Knife Maniac back to her. "For me, these fights are the best part of the week. Helps me unwind after dealing with those lunatics in the boardroom. But it's even more fun watching it with you. You look cute when you're concentrating."

"These things are always better enjoyed with someone else," agreed Miss Planner as she took another sip from her beer. She was starting to feel a little warm in all sorts of places at once. "I'm glad you're here with me tonight."

"Me too," said the Knife Maniac happily, squeezing Miss Planner tighter. "We should do this more often."
"Hmm. Yeah, we really should-"

The music started up again, an unholy hybrid of rock and rap that interrupted Miss Planner's train of thought and made her grunt softly in annoyance. The lights dimmed and a spotlight shone down onto the center of the arena where a shirtless man with greasy black hair and a switchblade glared angrily at the audience from beneath a mask of sweat, pumping a fist in the air in time with the beat. One of the two men who'd be fighting with a real weapon. Not always to the death, Miss Planner had been told... but still...

"That's Millennium," whispered the Knife Maniac softly. "He's one of our guys. He's pretty good, actually. But he hasn't won any matches in awhile now. So this is kind of his attempt to get himself some publicity."

"You know him personally?" Miss Planner asked, struggling to speak over the music. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Who knows. He's up against a real freak," answered the Knife Maniac, taking Miss Planner's hands in hers. "Usually these matches end with a forfeit, but sometimes, they keep going until somebody gets hurt so badly that they can't continue anymore. Or, if we're lucky, we'll get to see someone die onstage."

Miss Planner shuddered as the other competitor stepped out into the light, and Miss Planner felt herself tense up instinctively. He was big. Overweight and balding, his skin looked leathery and dry, and he wore a thick silver chain around his neck that swung back and forth as he moved. The music swelled to its climax before fading out entirely, and the crowd roared with excitement.

"That's Bull Shark," said the Knife Maniac, shaking with bloodlust. "He's a fugitive. Wanted for killing six people. Who'd you bet on? Oh, wait... don't tell me..."

"Neither. Actually, I was thinking I might sit this one out," said Miss Planner, shaking her head and smiling weakly.

"Oh, come on! You've made it this far, right? Don't you want to see what happens?"

"Yeah... I guess you have a point," she admitted reluctantly, gripping her friend's hand tightly and closing her eyes. "I just hope... no one dies..."

"Good girl," cooed the Knife Maniac, kissing her cheek affectionately. "Don't worry. Whatever happens, I won't let go."

Miss Planner slowly opened her eyes again. The referee handcuffed Millenium and Bull Shark together, then lifted a hand in warning as the fighters took their stances. They both grinned wickedly at each other, flexed their muscles, and raised their weapons in salute to the crowd.

"It's starting," whispered the Knife Maniac. Her hand was roughto the touch. Callused. No, scarred. Miss Planner blinked rapidly as her vision cleared. She was sweating. Her dress was starting to stick to her thighs. Her heart was racing.

It wasn't like this when she was watching the Pit Razors kill each other on that island, or even when she saw Gecko get beaten half to death earlier in the evening. This was different. Different in a bad way. She felt like she could smell blood in the air, taste it on her tongue as she swallowed nervously. She wanted to close her eyes again, but she knew that would probably make things worse. Instead, she forced them open and stared intently at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Miss Planner was responsible for the deaths of countless people over the course of the past year and a half. Chosen acolytes, security forces, freelancers hired directly by her, their targets, and the occasional innocent bystander caught up in the crossfire. Just because she hadn't seen any of it happen didn't mean she was above it all, or beyond it, or somehow better than it. But watching these two psychos brandish their knives at each other made her feel dirty in a way she couldn't quite pin down.

"Win, forfeit, or die. That's all there is," said the Knife Maniac, her voice low and soothing. "They know what they signed up for. They know what they're risking. What are you so afraid of?"
"I’m not afraid. I think it's sad," replied Miss Planner, feeling her throat tighten at the sight of the two men baring their fangs and growling like wild animals. "But hey, what do I know? Maybe I'm just crazy."