With the guard taken care of, Smoke walks over to the computer that is sat on the desk in the reception office, and boots up the computer. While he's sure of what he's looking for, he's not entirely certain of where it actually is, or where to even search for it.

A browse will have to suffice.

The desktop finally loads, with hundreds of different icons dotting the screen. Smoke starts scanning through them to try and find an Excel document, thinking that would be a good place to find one. Amongst the files for calculating total profits and arena plans, Smoke doesn't find much of anything interesting. He quickly browses through the Word documents and gets the same results.

Opening up the start menu, he clicks on search. Not sure of what to search exactly, Smoke just types in 'phone'. After a couple seconds of loading, the computer shows a list of documents that are at least associated with the phrase 'phone'.

Among these files is a Word document for the location of phones around the arena, another Word document is for the emergency phone numbers in case of an accident or, y'know an emergency. There is also a .pdf file entitled 'potato phone', but Smoke just ignores that. Finally there are two Excel files, one which reads 'phone numbers', and another which says 'phone lines'.

Unsure of the right selection, Smoke just clicks open 'phone numbers', and is greeted with a large list of, you guessed it, phone numbers! Which are alongside a list of names. Using the search function, Smoke is able to find his own phone number.

So that's how they would have found it.

Using the search function once again, Smoke looks up the unknown number on his phone. As he types out the number, the document scrolls up and down to find the best match, ending on a single result once he has entered all of the numbers. He looks across the line.

Mobile. Male. Steve Sayors.

Steve Sayors!?

Smoke checks his phone and the computer to make sure it's not wrong. Double-checks it. Triple-checks it. He even runs through the numbers individually in case he misread one or two. But it's right. Or at least it looks it. Smoke rubs his eyes.

Honestly, I wasn't sure who I was expecting.

He powers off the computer, but holds back on putting the phone in his pocket. Instead, he finds the number once more and dials it, fully aware of how early it is in the morning. Obviously, Steve takes a while to answer, so Smoke leans on the wall beside the guard's still unconscious body, making sure he's still out of it.

It connects, with a croaky voice on the other side.

Hello?

Stevie, hi! It's Smoke Man.

There is a slight hesitation in Steve's reply.

Uuh, Smoke Man, hey, uh, how are you?

Eh, not bad, not bad. Hey listen, I was just around the arena and thought I'd ask you for an interview.

What, now? It's almost seven in the morning, Smoke. And how did you even get this number?

Well, as you may have heard, my apartment was recently burned down. I had gotten special permission from Shane to snoop around the arena and find out who did it exactly. And thanks to that snooping I've been lead directly to you. So think of it this way, if you don't come down here for an interview, I go tell Shane that I've found out that you were the one responsible. You get fired, and I get my closure. Now do you really want that to happen, Stevie?

There is a pause on the other end.

N-no I'm... I-I-I'll be right down.

Good. I'll see you in the ring.

Smoke hangs up his phone before Steve can fit in an answer.

And why did I ever think power was a bad thing.

Smoke puts his phone in his pocket and sets off to leave... but his foot doesn't follow. Smoke can feel a vice-like grip around his ankle, and he turns to see the security guard, still sitting on the floor, but his eyes wide open in rage, and hand clamped on Smoke's ankle. Smoke just looks at him.

You're not going anywhere, punk.

Smoke laughs at that threat as if it was funny. He bends over and picks the tranquilizer gun up from the middle of the floor. He pretends to inspect it for a second, before taking aim at the guard.

Oh, I think I am.

The guard puts both hands in the air and slowly stands, his back leaning on the wall. After a couple of seconds, and in one quick movement, the guard tries to smack the tranq out of Smoke's hand. Smoke spins to avoid it, but the guard grabs Smoke by his torso while he's turned around. Smoke is quick to elbow him in the face, sending the guard reeling.

With a clear shot, Smoke fires the 'gun', aiming directly for the guard's head. The guard is able to dive out of the way, and grabs a taser out of his other pocket. The both of them aim their weapons at one another in this moment of stalemate.

Do you want to be shocked so bad you'll be shitting out of your ears, son?! Drop it!

When will you goddamn learn that I'm fucking allowed to do this!? Ask Shane you stubborn asshole!

Aw no, you're not getting me that easily. I know the moment I turn my back you're going to go ahead and shoot me.

pzz-thunk

No actually. I'll shoot now.

The dart pierced the guard's forehead, sticking out like a unicorn horn. The shot is clearly powerful, as it's effects immediately go into effect, causing the guard to stumble around sluggishly, bumping into walls and desks. He bumps into Smoke, so Smoke pushes him over on the ground.

clunk-bzzzrrt!

The guard lands in such a way that shoots the 50,000 volts right into his stomach, making him spasm catastrophically on the floor. Despite this, Smoke calmly puts the tranq gun on the side and leaves the poor bastard behind.