The next fight was set between Fadala and Arcenoux LeBlanc. The fighters made their way to the ring of the Grand Arena. The Ilê Apanyan undertaker lit his herbal cigarette. The Cajun American fixed his hat on his head. The hitman and the bounty hunter stood facing each other.

Unlike on previous occasions, Arcenoux was serious. His tension made his muscles tighten under his open vest. He kept his bandages on, even though his wounds had already healed. He placed his right hand on his revolver. His left hand was tucked into an ammunition holster at his waist, behind his back.

In it were several revolver barrels. The gunman's hand rotated the loaded drums. A low, crunching sound was heard. He kept his eyes on the mortician. He knew the guy well. He had already faced and encountered members of the Ilê Apanyan on battlefields around the world. His commanders had ordered the SEALs to flee on sight.

It was always the same modus operandis. A bald man in a suit would emerge from somewhere unusual with a pair of .50s. After that, all that was left were slaughtered bodies and a huge wave of destruction behind them.

"I didn't expect an Ilê Apanyan bougre sur the underground circuit. Vous're too elegant and dogmatic to va sur such a salir stage."

"Don't speak so loudly, I don't want to attract attention right away. How did you find out?"

"You boucaner a joliment smelly cigarette."

"I understand, I don't think you're here just to show off. If you were, you would have used that gun you stole from a museum to kill me. A Colt M1892 has a medium-long barrel for quick draws, doesn't it?"

Fadala observed his enemy's condition with quick movements of his eyes. He assumed a Gun Kata stance. The ballistic technique combines the execution of martial arts hand and foot movements with the firing of firearms. The style is divided into two forms.

The first, long-range, allows the user to respond quickly, without cover and with maximum economy of movement and use of space. Short-range involves greater physical contact, point-blank shooting, disarming actions and twisting. With the Gun Kata, depending on the gunman's expertise, he could shoot without aiming, guided only by synesthetic intuition.

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Which ballistic style will the cowboy wear? He's tried to avoid showing his true skills so far, just like me. He's the most dangerous of his team.

"Someone as carefree as vous shouldn't be dans a position of defense. Jongler vite."

Arcenoux drew his revolver, pointed the barrel at Fadala's abdomen and fired six times. The initiative made the undertaker defend himself and beat back the bullets with pistol butts. At the same moment, the Cajun gunman launched the various drums into the air, at different distances and heights. The assassin took a few steps back.

Clever of him. He makes me defend, retreats to avoid a counter-attack and presses me with the Gun Fu.

The ballistic style of Gun Fu combined the acrobatic movements of oriental martial arts with precise shots at the opponent's vital points. The focus was on hand-to-hand combat.

The American discarded the empty barrel of the revolver, and with a horizontal or diagonal movement, reloaded the firearm using gravity. With his other hand, he deflected Fadala's wrists to avoid being hit.

The mortician, unable to hit his opponent with the gun, resorted to Krav Maga kicks. The martial art is suitable for confronting opponents armed with firearms or blades. The blows were aimed at the soft parts of the body, those that could not generate muscular hypertrophy such as the throat, ear, groin, tendons, etc.

The bullets grazed the fighters' bodies. The barrels spewed out gray smoke, which spiraled through the air. The smell of gunpowder incensed the atmosphere. A strange aura of death contaminated the ring. None of the combatants could hit their opponent. The projectiles embedded themselves in the walls, the ceiling and the ground.

But Fadala's Krav Maga kicks met the cajun's Savate kicks. While their hands fired and reloaded their firearms, their legs crossed in kicks, kicks, knees and stomps. Arcenoux's groupé, tendue and coup de pied bas kicks clashed with Fadala's seventy-eight beitot.

The fight went on so quickly that the audience found it hard to follow. Shell casings, combs and empty gun barrels piled up on the floor. In the end, the two stopped with their guns pointed at each other's faces. They gasped, drops of sweat trickling down their temples. Their eyes were fixed like the sights of a gun.

"I jongler this is going to be aimer a roulette wheel. When on tirer, quelqu'un will mourir, mr. Fadala. Have vous signed your will?"

"I only have two pistols as assets, even if I had a family, I don't know if it would be a good idea. You're a good dancer, you just don't have much flair, Mr. Arcenoux."

"I learned to change a few steps in the Texas War of Independence."

Tric, tric... the guns echoed in a dry metallic timbre. They were out of bullets. They both stepped back in disappointment. Arcenoux shook his head, irritated by the situation.

"I can't believe il, je've tied the knot with vous. An unexpected outcome même pour moi."

"Don't complain, you're still alive, at least for now. Nobody's been knocked out or given up, we'll have to settle it with our fists."

"No, that's assez pour moi. Vous've won that on, Fadala, à least pour now."

The Cajun then raised his right hand and declared he was quitting. Fadala won the fight. The undertaker wiped the sweat from his face, relieved. They both walked out of the ring of the Grand Arena. When they reached the stands, the cubic ceiling, like a Swiss cheese, collapsed. Everyone was stunned by the situation.

In the holoprojection, the new fight was announced: Tora-Tora versus Meta. The hooded man stretched and walked towards the ring.