The first two to fight were one of the normal-looking men, Lahar Vulcan (and that was a stage name if Ellen had ever heard one) and Roy Hobb, the guy Ellen had pegged as a martial artist with blank eyes. They moved to the so-called "ring" in the center of the rooftop. It was roped off like a boxing ring, but considerably larger. The martial artist didn't move like he was blind.
They ducked to step through the ropes and went to opposite corners. The cadaverous Master of Ceremonies, Ellen noted, did not enter the ring with them. He remained outside of it. "There are no 'rounds' in these fights," he announced to the spectators as much as to the combatants. "Once joined, battle will continue until one of the fighters surrenders or is unable to continue. Or is disqualified. Use of a weapon or exiting the ring will disqualify you. Any questions?"
Both men shook their heads. The MOC nodded. "Very well. Begin!"
The martial artist moved forward. The other man remained in his corner. "Sure you don't want to quit now?" he asked, lounging against the corner support for the ropes. When his opponent remained silent, he shrugged.
"Your funeral," he said--and vanished with a deafening thunderclap, to reappear with another, equally loud clap of thunder behind the martial artist. Hobb staggered forward, clutching his ears.
Vulcan closed the distance and gave him a savage rabbit punch to the base of the skull. Hobb fell to his hands and knees. Vulcan stepped in to launch a kick into his midsection.
Hobb rolled out of his reach and climbed to his feet facing Vulcan, fists raised, still shaking his head as if to clear it. Two more concussive blasts in rapid succession shattered the night as Vulcan closed the distance in an instant.
Ellen could see blood trickling from Hobb's ears and nose. When Vulcan vanished, she realized, the thunderclap came from the air collapsing into the vacuum he left behind; when he reappeared the violent displacement of air produced the same effect. It had to be like a stun grenade going off in your face every time he did it.
Hobb struggled to stay on his feet, and took several swings at Vulcan. He even connected once, to Vulcan's obvious surprise and displeasure. He backed off a few feet, scowling and rubbing his face where Hobb had struck him.
"Now I'm pissed off, asshole," he said.
That was a mistake. Hobb made a short, forceful punching gesture--and Vulcan, standing well out of reach, doubled over clutching his belly. Hobb spun and kicked, still well out of reach of Vulcan--but Vulcan jackknifed backward to sprawl against the ropes, clearly dazed.
Hobb straightened, drew a deep breath, and placed his hands before him as if grasping a football--or a human head--and twisted sharply. Vulcan's neck snapped audibly as his head twisted to face backward. He fell lifelessly to the asphalt surface of the roof.
"So am I, asshole," Hobb said to the corpse. He turned to face the Master of Ceremonies. Ellen still couldn't tell if he could see or if he had some other way of sensing his environment.
The Master of Ceremonies nodded. "Roy Hobb wins the first round."