Arena 4

by Logan Jacobs

  The six of us walked into the smoke filled interior, and I paused for a moment to take the whole place in.

  The Breach was like a cross between a tavern from Middle-Earth mixed with a modern day bar. It had a relatively low ceiling, dark polished wood pillars every ten feet, long, booze stained tables that ran lengthwise across the floor, and a giant, carved mahogany bar that ran the length of the entire back wall. Lanterns illuminated the tavern with a soft amber light.

  Brek hadn’t been kidding. I’d never seen the Breach even close to being empty, but it was particularly full of all sorts of champions, friends, and groupies. The Crucible of Carnage was the most watched “show” in the megaverse and champions were celebrated like movie or rock stars to a degree. Fans of the show would come to the Breach to meet and hobnob with the champions. Which meant that it was a place for champions to blow off steam in more ways than one.

  My teammates, no fuck that, my friends and I walked down the stairs and into the tavern with the attitudes of returning conquerors. And I had to say, we looked damn good doing it. With Grizz bothering us like a kid on Christmas eve, we had all gotten cleaned up and dressed before heading out. Normally we all just wore our training gear to the Breach, but tonight we’d decided to show up in style.

  Artemis, who had fully embraced twenty-something Earth fashions, had on a pair of blue skinny jeans, a casual, loose blue paisley button-down shirt, low heeled Doc Martens, which had been my suggestion, and a bright yellow blazer. Her lustrous brown hair cascaded across her shoulders in loose curls. She was the epitome of casual sexy.

  PoLarr wore a well broken in pair of vintage looking Levi 501 jeans that accentuated her long for days legs, a Guns N’ Roses Appetite For Destruction t-shirt, cowboy boots, and a leather, short waisted, bomber jacket with a Death Angels skull and angel wings logo on the back. She looked like a runway model who was dating a rockstar.

  So I guessed that made me the rockstar.

  Aurora, well, Aurora looked like Aurora and as socially acceptable casual as she ever got. Which meant she looked like a real-life version of Emma Frost from X-Men. The comics, not the movies. She had on shiny, pleather like boots that went all the way up to her mid-thigh and seemed to stay in place as though by magic. A matching pair of swim-suit like bottoms covered her mesmerizing behind. Her normal corset had been replaced by a black corset-like top that had no centerpiece, yet it still managed to cup and support her overly ample breasts. Again, it managed to stay completely in place by either the strongest double stick tape in the megaverse or some kind of magic and came down almost all the way to her hour-glass waist. The top of the not-corset was connected to a long sleeve jacket that was only the sleeves and a flowing, sheer shawl. It was like Jim Lee had designed the whole ensemble and Victoria Secret had made it happen. Stupid sexy did not begin to describe it.

  Nova, true to her futuristic medieval roots, wore a thigh length navy-blue crushed velvet renaissance inspired dress with a laced bodice that showcased her magnificent, high, full, pert breasts and long sleeves that ended in a diamond point which went all the way to her index finger. Flat sandals covered her feet, and her auburn hair was pulled back into a complex braid with a blue ribbon interwoven into the locking chains.

  Last, but not least, I finished out our imposing posse in a pair of dark blue jeans, a tight black t-shirt, a sleek, black lambskin motorcycle jacket, a broken-in belt with a brass buckle, and my trusty Fitzroy Doc Martens.

  We looked kick ass if I did say so myself.

  One of Brek’s bouncers raised his hand, and we walked over to the end section of one of the tables and sat down around it. As soon as we did Grizz’s holographic form appeared with a large flagon of ale in his hand.

  “By the Impertinent Ingot of Impatience, it is about time you all got here,” he said. Artemis had written a program so that he could enjoy some worldly pleasures, and the holographic ale must have been potent because he seemed a little tipsy.

  “How many of those have you had, Grizz?” I asked as the watier-bot set down our usual beverages. A pint of Guinness for me, Long Island Iced Tea for Artie, some type of dark purple wine for Aurora, a neat whiskey for PoLarr, and a mug of mead for Nova.

  “Three,” he said and burped.

  “Nice,” I said and took a sip of the onyx stout. The Irishman in me rejoiced.

  “‘Tis crowded tonight,” Grizz commented as he looked around the packed place. “Some of the other trainers and I were discussing the new wrinkle in the Crucible. It has everyone quite worried so most are here to slake their fears.”

  I glanced around and he was right. Normally the Breach had an air of camaraderie. An unspoken shared experience. A respect for the dangers we all had to face every day. But tonight there was an undercurrent of insecurity. Worry wafted about like the haze of a hundred different kinds of tobacco smoke.

  “Makes sense,” PoLarr commented as she sipped her whiskey.

  “Excuse me while I relieve myself in the holo-bathroom,” Grizz said as he got up and began to walk away. “I may have over indulged whilst awaiting your arrival.”

  “Bathroom?” I asked and turned to Artemis.

  “Side effect of the bit of code I wrote so that he could enjoy his adult beverage,” she replied as if I should have known.

  “Weird.”

  We all sat in silence for a bit as the wind went out of our sails. We’d come to the Breach to lighten our load and the air of anxiety that permeated the normally jovial establishment had put a dark gray cloud over all our heads.

  “Well, this is fun,” I joked half-heartedly.

  “I’m having so much fun I’ll be whistling zippity-doo-daa from my asshole,” PoLarr quoted from one of my favorite movies, Christmas Vacation. She then took a sip of her whiskey. “It’s good. It’s good.”

  “Sugar, are you drunk already?” Aurora asked with a skeptical look across her brow.

  “I wish,” the Val’Keerye sighed. “Just more of Havak’s encyclopedic, yet strangely obscure, entertainment knowledge.”

  “Yeah, well,” I started to quip back, “I could do without all the memories of the incredible and magnificent sights you’ve seen throughout the galaxy. The ice rings around Centauri Set were particularly breathtaking. So, you know, thanks.”

  “I’m a giver. I give.” PoLarr said and winked at me.

  “Hey, that’s my line.”

  “Oh, boy,” I heard Artemis say beside me as she subtly pointed toward the entrance.

  I turned to look. “’Oh, boy’ is right.”

  Team Hann-Abel walked through the front door of the Breach like they owned the place.

  “You’ve gotta’ be shitting me,” I muttered under my breath and watched as they greeted Brek-Taup with pleasantries and then walked, almost in supercool movie slow motion, to the table right next to us.

  They knew we saw them, and we knew they saw us. In an instant the tension ratcheted up exponentially. Their drinks arrived, and they all took sips and talked to one another in hushed tones. Every so often I caught the one known as Tempest as she stole glances over at our table. She didn’t seem to be involved in much of the conversation, or overly friendly with her cohorts.

  My team was instantaneously on edge. Our melancholy had turned to a state of uber high awareness in the snap of a finger. We weren’t the only ones. I guess word had gotten out about some of the matchups, and ours was high up on the list. I could feel the eyes, optical orifices, and orb-stalks of everyone in the joint as they watched. I liked an audience as much as the next guy, but this was freaking ridiculous.

  “Oh, balls on this,” I muttered, stood up, turned around and walked the few steps to the head of the other table.

  “Hey, hi, how’s it going?” I said with a big fake smile on my face in as friendly a tone as I could muster. “So, I’m tired of the elephant in the room and thought I’d come over here and introduce myself. I’m Marc Havak, Earth’s champion. How are you guys tonight? Having fun? Cool, cool, cool.”
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  I was rambling. It didn’t happen often, but it was a definite defense mechanism when I was nervous. I once told a girl I wanted to ask out in high school about my impressive comic book collection and how I really enjoyed the way Jim Lee drew boobs. Yeah, we didn’t end up going out.

  The leader of the group, Hann-Abel looked up at me slowly as did the rest of his crew. Fluorescent green smoke wafted from the pipe in his mouth like bright ribbons to join the rest of the smoke that hung above everyone’s heads. The anti-smokers on Earth would have a right conniption fit if they ever set foot in the Breach. His eyes scanned me briefly, and I could almost see the circuits in his brain sizing me up. There was a brief moment when I thought he was just going to ignore me completely, which would have made things very uncomfortable. I really don’t like being ignored and probably would have done something rash, and stupid.

  I had the tendency to do stupid things.

  Thankfully, I didn’t get the chance because Hann-Abel stood up and held out his bright red hand for me to shake.

  “Marc Havak,” he said in a deep, Liam Neeson brogue. “Hell of a pleasure to meet you, lad.”

  I looked down at his hand for a moment and let it sit there for a second. Two could play at this “you size me up, well now I’m gonna pretend to size you up but not really cause I don’t have the same strategic brain that you do” game. All eyes were still on us, and I let the second stretch to the point where it would have been insulting before reaching out to grip his hand in a firm, but not overpowering, handshake. I gave him my best cocky Havak grin.

  “Nah, the pleasure is all mine,” I answered and locked eyes with the leader of the Hunters. “You guys have a hell of a reputation.”

  “Well, what can I say?” Hann-Abel remarked as he swept his eyes over his crew, who, now that I had a chance to see them up close, was one short. “I do love it when a plan comes together. And my plans always come together. Team Havak has quite the reputation as well.”

  The way he said “reputation” made it sound almost like an insult, but not enough to be obviously insulting. It was unobviously insulting, which was worse.

  “Yeah,” I said almost tauntingly, “we do okay. Not really big on planning. More of a guts, guns, good looks, and great big fucking balls of steel kind of guy myself.”

  Hann-Abel chuckled at the counter move and finally let go of my hand. I hadn’t realized we were playing verbal chess until the words were out of my mouth.

  “What’s up guys?” I asked and nodded my head cooly to the rest of his alliance. “Barrakus, Muerdok, Tempest… Hey, you guys are one short. Where’s Vex?”

  “Behind you,” I heard a soft whisper inches from my ear that reverberated in my skull like the echo of a too loud rock show. The voice was the sound of a thousand souls breathing their last. It almost made me dizzy, and my stomach churned with sudden nausea. It was all I could do not to cry out in pure terror, but the part of me that had been hardened in the Crucible took control, and I thankfully kept the scream in my throat. I swallowed hard to keep the half a pint of Guinness that I’d drunk in my belly and then slowly turned my head toward the Stygian sigh.

  “Sup,” I managed to get out without my voice cracking. My hands were balled at my sides so tightly I could feel my nails digging into the skin of my palms hard enough to draw tiny rivulets of blood. I caught a brief glimpse of the black clad space Storm Shadow before the blur disappeared into the crowd.

  “Vex doesn’t really like crowds,” Hann-Abel said as his eyes watched me carefully like they were recording every millisecond of the encounter to analyze later. “He does his best work in small groups of four or five.”

  “Huh,” I uttered and turned slowly back to the table. If this was a test of nerves I wasn’t going to fail. I’d probably shit myself when I got back to my apartment, but as a firm believer in ‘fake it till you make it’ I was faking the shit out of being a stone cold badass at the moment. “Seems like the life of the party.”

  Hann-Abel studied me for a second longer and then let out a big laugh which thankfully released the pressure cooker of tension we’d all been stewing in for the last few minutes.

  “Well stand up, you glorious bastards, and say hello to our formidable opponents,” Hann-Abel crowed to his crew.

  They did as their commander commanded.

  “Greetings, Human fool,” Barrakus, who was just to my left, said as he stood slowly to his full over six foot height but seemed much bigger. I swore he cast a shadow and blocked out some of the lantern light with his size.

  “Ha! Don’t mind Barrakus,” Muerdok said. Her voice was strangely pitched and sounded like a frog would. “They’ve got a bad attitude. Nice to meet you sunny Jim.”

  “It’s Marc,” I corrected the she-frog.

  “That’s what I said,” she retorted. Her wiggly googly eyes roved around in their oversized lids and made her look completely goofy. What didn’t make her look goofy as fuck were the bulges of several hand blasters barely concealed in the depths of her four armed jacket.

  “Havak, nice to meet you,” last, but certainly not least, and with a pronounced eye-roll, Tempest said, stood, and nodded her head in my direction. “I thought you’d be taller.”

  “You know, that never gets old,” I said even though it was totally getting old. I was almost six feet tall, damnit. I’d been a solid five foot ten when I’d arrived but as my spent ten hours a day driving a truck flab turned to hard packed muscle, my posture got a shit ton better, and I’d actually added over an inch to my height. I couldn’t help it if three-quarters of the inhabitants of the mega-verse were taller than most of the dudes in the NBA.

  In my peripheral vision I saw that my team had silently gotten up and now flanked me on both sides. It made my chest swell a bit knowing that without a word they had my back. They’d all had my front at some point or another too, but that was beside the point.

  “Ladies, let’s not be rude, say hi to our new playmates,” I tossed over my shoulder.

  “I greatly look forward to the challenge of testing our prowess against one another,” Nova said as she eyed Barrakus. The big, mustard-yellow mountain eyed her back. A small, barely perceptible smile creased the corners of Nova’s pretty pink lips. It was the smile she got right before she kicked someone's ass.

  “Good evening, Colonel,” Aurora drawled toward Hann-Abel. I would have been a bit jealous if I hadn’t noticed the slight blue murmur across her tattoos. Her Shriike recognized a threat and wanted to feed. One of her greatest strengths as a predator was convincing her prey that she was one of them. “Pleasure to meet a man of your dominant stature.”

  To his credit, Hann-Abel didn’t take the bait. He just smiled at Aurora from behind a curtain of green pipe smoke.

  “I heard you made the Ford Smuggler’s Run in less than fourteen gate jumps,” PoLarr said to Muerdok like she was Iceman to the amphibian pilots Maverick. I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about, but it sounded cool.

  “Yuppers,” Muerdok gloated back. It sounded like a ribbit.

  “I did it in twelve,” PoLarr said nonchalantly. “When I was fifteen.”

  The amphibian pilot’s eyes got wider than I thought physically possible when she realized she’d been insulted.

  I felt my body shift into fight mode unconsciously. We were a gasoline soaked tinder box one match away from going up in flames.

  “I’m Artemis,” Artie said as she interjected herself into our chest beating spectacle. “Nice to meet you all. You guys want another round of drinks? It’s on Team Havak.”

  Artemis had wisely surveyed the situation. She knew if something wasn’t done fast there was going to be a rumble.

  “Thank you kindly, good Artemis, but that is not necessary,” a soft, male voice said from behind the bulk of Barrakus. A tall, slight, cherry red skinned male humanoid stepped out around the big Zolg. He was clearly the same race as Hann-Abel but where the pipe chewing Colonel was obviously a strategist who did his best work in
the midst of blood and battle with his grunts, this dude was like a smooth CIA spook who preferred to work behind the scenes. I put two and two together and realized he was their attache. Artemis’ counterpart on Hann-Abel’s Alliance. “We prefer to pay our own way. Enjoy a round on us instead.”

  To punctuate his sentence a waiter-bot set fresh drinks next to our half-drunk ones on the table. It was a subtle, passive-aggressive move that no one missed.

  “Dolos,” Artemis said surprised. “I did not know that you were in the real.”

  “I know,” Dolos said smugly. “I preferred to keep it very quiet. I thought for sure you would have figured it out by now. But you were always more bookish than observant, weren’t you?”

  And, just like that the tension was back, and we were a powder keg ready to explode.

  “You arrogant scrap of scat,” Artemis spit out and almost literally launched herself over the table at him with a huge right handed roundhouse. It would have neatly knocked his prissy block off if Brek-Taup hadn’t caught her in midair with one of his big brick hands.

  “Whoa there, Artemis,” Brek said gently. “You know we don’t allow fist-a-cuffs this early in the night.”

  “Brek, put me down or so help me,” Artemis raged.

  “And, with that it is with great sadness that I have to ask you all to leave, Team Havak,” Brek said apologetically and began to carry the squirming Artemis toward the door.

  “Fine by us, Brek,” I fumed. “Thanks for the drinks. Let’s go guys.”

  I had wanted to come back with some witty rejoinder but I was too mad. I figured it was enough of an insult to leave the drinks untouched on the table.

  Nova, PoLarr, and Aurora tailed me as I followed Brek through the tavern. We’d held our own during that little tete a tete but the end left me feeling like we had a little egg on our faces. I didn’t let it show, though as we walked proudly amid the patrons who watched us intently.

  I took one last look over my shoulder at Hann-Abel and his crew. Most of them ignored us as we left. A final slap in the face. Except for Tempest, who watched us intently. I couldn’t tell exactly what the look on her blue-green face was. Part of me thought it was pity. And yet another, well, that part thought it might have been a bit of longing.