“Dude—” the duelist said, and then screamed as Mason shoved his own sword into his chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that against the rules?” Mason asked, and yanked the sword out.

The duelist didn’t respond, unless screaming was a response. Mason let him scream for a few more seconds before hefting the sword down on his skull, which split in two down to the bridge of the nose. The screaming abruptly stopped, and five seconds later the duelist’s body vaporized.

“Jackass,” Mason said, hefting the sword upward. He turned to me, with Chad or whatever his name was. “How does he look?”

“It’s not good,” I said. Some of Chad or whatever his name was’s insides were rapidly coming outside.

“No, I wouldn’t think so,” Mason said, walked over, and got himself into a classic batter’s pose. I lurched out of the way. “Sorry, Chad. Or whatever your name is.”

“What?” Chad or whatever his name was had time to say, and looked up, just before Mason sliced off his head in a surprisingly clean motion. The body collapsed, the head rolled a few feet, and after that they both disappeared.

Mason looked at the remaining duelist and the seconds, who had by now clumped together in terror. “Get the fuck out of here,” Mason said to them. They sprinted away, the duelist leaving his sword behind. Mason turned to me. “You’re absolutely sure you don’t want in on this.”

I laughed in spite of myself. “That was a genuine mess,” I said.

“Now you know why I get paid up front.” He walked over and picked up the other sword and stood, one in each hand. “Want one?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Yeah.” He tossed both swords into the grass. “Come on, let’s start walking. I’m pretty sure I burned through my five calls back there.”

“I could still use a name,” I prompted Mason, several minutes later, when the two of us were well away from the University of Chicago campus.

“I’m not going to give you a name of anyone I work with. And I’m not even going to tell you whether or not I gave Jimmy any new gigs.”

“Mason—”

He held up a hand. “Orval Wooldridge.”

“Who is that?”

“The Internet will tell you who he is.”

“What does he have to do with Jimmy?”

“I’m not saying he does have anything to do with Jimmy. But you wanted a name, and I won’t give you a name of anyone I work with directly. So you figure out what you can do with that name. And that’s what I can do for you, Tony.”

“All right. Thank you, Mason.”

“Don’t mention it. I mean that.”

I smiled at that.

“I still have a lot of gigs I need people for,” Mason said.

“I’m happy working my side of the street.”