by Jack Hammond
“It’s unbelievable.” Sadie replied as Wesley stepped into the fighter's den. His hammer and shield vanished, the instant he passed over the entrance.
“Way to go hammer man!” Alwin congratulated him with a hearty slap on the back. “I thought you were going to throw it.” He whispered into his ear.
“Thought had crossed my mind.” Wes admitted.
“Good fight.” Darren added with a lack of sincerity.
“I didn’t even get warmed up.” Wesley snidely replied.
Alwin smirked as Darren turned away. This would get interesting, he thought.
“Well done, Wes.” Sadie’s words carried more honesty.
“Thanks.” He replied.
Sadie and Darren walked away again, leaving Alwin and Wesley alone. Alwin waited until they were out of earshot and then prodded Wesley in the chest. “What were you playing at out there?”
“What?”
“You actually considered throwing it? Are you mental?”
“I didn’t though.”
“Bloody good job too. You have to win.”
“Why? What’s it to you anyway?” Wes asked.
“You’ve got talent. I mean real genuine talent and power. Oh boy, do you have power. See them up there.” Alwin pointed to the row of Elite shadows, “They are the best of the best. Each one of them is phenomenal, in power, ability. Every now and again someone makes a ten win streak.” He explained. “I’ve seen two. Then they challenge one of them, you never know which one you’ll fight it’s the luck of the draw.”
Wesley interrupted, “I saw the stone dragon the first time I came here.”
“Yes, he’s powerful.” He digressed, returning to what he was saying. “Whenever someone challenges them, they get creamed. I mean seriously beaten. Outclassed, outplayed they get owned.”
“Okay, I get it.”
“But you, you have a shot. You are bloody incredible now and you’ve hardly fought. Those things will be crapping themselves if you get eight or nine wins under your belt.”
Wesley walked over to the stone bench and took a seat. Alwin following close behind, “Do you get it? You can become one of the best. Not like us, but one of them.”
“I don’t want to be a faceless shadow sitting there waiting,” Wesley countered. “I want to be out there fighting.”
“Yes and winning. You don’t have to become one of them. I want someone to take those high flyers on, really do a number on them.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“I’m not even close to you. Darren isn’t or Sadie.” Alwin insisted. “You’re like nothing I’ve seen. You were knocked about in there by someone supposedly better than you. But did you break? No, you took it, like you did the other night against Hanson. You’re built for better things.”
Wesley couldn’t help but laugh, Alwin seemed to be convinced he was this amazing fighter, if only he knew he had help. That somehow he had got hold of knowledge that showed him who and what he would be fighting, even before he knew himself. Would he be so eager to support Wesley’s drive towards greatness within this dream world?
“Do you think Darren’s acting like a bitch because you ‘might’ be better than him, or because he knows you are?” Alwin said sitting down. “I opt for the latter.”
“I’m not what you think I am.”
“Shut up, you’re two for two and I’m betting pounds to pence you’ll be three for three tomorrow.”
“Glad you do.” Wesley smiled.
Alwin whispered. “You know Daz is fighting Grim tonight.”
“Yeah, I was there.”
“He’s going to lose.”
“He’s a good fighter, he won’t.” Wesley replied, unsure why he was defending him.
“No, he’s not good enough for Grim. You saw how he toyed with Sadie and she’s no pushover. When he loses, you need to fight him.”
“Are you mad?”
“Trust me.” Alwin grinned slyly.
“I don’t think so. There’s no way I’m fighting him.”
“It’s a win, win for you. Think about it, Wes.”
Wesley asked, “How so?”
“If you fight and lose, they will accept you because you stood up for them and you tried to defend your friends.”
“And if I win?” he continued.
“That’s the spirit, be positive. When you win, Sadie will think you’re brilliant and Darren will be scared of you.”
“I don’t want him to be scared of me.” He told him truthfully.
“Okay respected. He’ll respect you. You do realise being scared of someone and respecting them is only a matter of perspective.”
“Bloody hell, Alwin,” Wesley snapped. “Who talks like that?”
“Hey, just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” He replied defensively.
“I’m not talking about how smart you are or how dumb, you just sound…” he searched frantically for the word. “I don’t know.” He conceded.
“Mark my words, when he loses to Grim, you would be a fool not to fight him!” he finished.
The Reaper stepped out onto the colosseum sands for the second time tonight. Slowly walking across the arena, the cheers followed him to the centre of the amphitheatre. Darren stood in the doorway, staring out at the sand, it seemed more daunting than ever before. He felt Sadie’s hands on his shoulders, “Get in close, once you’re in there punish him,” Sadie told him.
“Yeah, I’ll hurt him bad.”
“Don’t hold back Daz! He’s strong, don’t underestimate him. Not like I did.”
Darren turned to face her. “I swear I’ll smash him to pieces.”
“Go get him!” she urged as he stepped over the threshold.
Avidly watching through the aperture in the Corinthian stone, Alwin and Wesley waited for the clash to commence. “Watch carefully, you need to take notes. You’ll be battling him next.”
Wesley just looked at him sideways, not saying a word. The pair was soon joined by Sadie. “Come to the door, better view.” She told them.
“Okay, let’s go.” Alwin grinned looking forward to seeing Darren get beaten. The pair moved away, Wesley remaining steadfast.
Sadie looked back, “Wes, you coming?”
“I can see fine here.” He replied, his eyes focusing directly on the sand ahead.
Sadie looked at Alwin, he shrugged and the pair moved away.
“What’s up with everyone today?” she asked.
“Are you serious? He’s annoyed you went running after Darren when he started crying.”
“I did not.”
“You did, I’m not bothered, but he was hoping you guys would help him out with who he should fight next.”
“We would have.”
“When exactly, Sadie? You were too busy with Darren. It didn’t matter anyway hammer man handled his clash easy enough.” Alwin proudly stated.
“What’s happening here, you trying to play them against one another?”
“Me? You’re the one who’s doing the playing. They both like you and they’re basically primates trying to impress you.”
“Just, shut up!” she snapped walking away.
“Hey, you wanted to know,” his reply falling on deaf ears.
Darren’s manifestation let out a roar at the top of his lungs. The Angel of Death had already moved to the centre of the arena, unwittingly playing right into his opponents hands. Darren’s chest heaved; his heart was beating relentlessly in his ribcage. He glared at the staunch motionless Reaper as he waited with bated breath to hear the word that would start the fight. Darren was aware exactly what he was going to do, charge in fast, unleash his iron fists and pummel the piece of crap to bits.
The voice bellowed across the amphitheatre, “Clash!”
Darren set off, charging forward he covered the distance as quickly as possible. The Grim Reaper thumped his scythe into the sand; the ground shuddered beneath Darren’s feet. The rattling sound of unearthly shackles surround
ed him, the spectral chains swiftly wrapped around his limbs. Daz’s size, strength and momentum did nothing to fight off the attack. Their grip tightened, he couldn’t move, he was completely restrained, roaring he tried to break free, his power insufficient to move the bonds.
The Reaper cackled under his hood. The crowds noise level a mere murmur as they were wondered how Grim would end this fight. Sadie screamed from the doorway, Alwin wincing from the screeching, “Fight! Don’t give in.”
Wesley glanced across at her, manning Darren’s corner. It seemed futile from where he stood, yet there she was screaming him encouragement.
“Burn,” the Reaper rasped from under the hood. The wooden shaft banged into the colosseum floor and a searing white flame emerged from beneath Darren’s manifestation. He grimaced with pain but held in the urge to scream.
“I told you I would burn you.” He continued, “Now taste the flames!” the scythe hit the floor once again, a more intense vivid glare of white fire burned Darren deeper.
Sadie looked away, pressing her head into Alwin’s shoulder. “I can’t watch this.” She declared.
“It’s not easy is it?” he smiled a knowing smile as if he’d seen it all in a crystal ball.
Darren didn’t take long to break, his screams filling the arena. Cheers had turned to boos as the crowd turned against the Reaper as he tortured the gorilla manifestation for fun. Chris raised his scythe and goaded the audience to a chorus of hisses and boos. “My clash, my rules,” he announced to the crowd. He stood before the shadows, “Unless you want to stop me?”
The shadowed figures remained still and silent.
“I shall continue!” he turned back to Darren, “Burn!”
Wesley didn’t want Darren to win, but not to lose like this; witnessing such torment was too much. He pushed through the fighters making his way towards the door. Alwin nodded at Wes as he moved to the threshold. “Stop this!” he screamed out, his voice rising over the discontented crowd.
The Reaper turned to the door. “You want to stop me? Then fight me.” He cackled, “I want to fight you!”
“Fine, I accept. I’ll fight you.” Wes declared defiantly.
“Very well,” Death swung around, his scythe slashing across the manifestation. A flash of light signalling Darren’s defeat, his body falling to his knees. He gasped for breath, pain encompassing his entire body like never before. Sadie and Alwin rushed across the sand to help him out of the arena.
The Reaper held out his arms. “I am victorious!” he bellowed to the crowds. Revelling in the jeers and taunts from the tiers, he laughed loudly, taking his time leaving the stage.
Darren was helped to the stone bench, Sadie kneeling at his side concerned for her friend. Alwin looked from Darren to Sadie, then to Wesley.
“Are you okay, Daz?” Alwin asked, clearly he wasn’t.
“I am now it’s over.” He winced at Sadie, trying his best to crack a smile. “He’s strong.”
“I know.” Sadie replied, “Too strong, for any of us.”
“Not Wesley he’s not.” Alwin couldn’t help himself.
“Don’t fight him, Wes.” Sadie snapped.
Darren looked up at Wesley. “Thank you for stopping it. But don’t fight him.”
“I didn’t stop it for you,” Wesley lied. “I want to get out of here, sooner I challenge him, the sooner I can go.”
Alwin winced at Wesley’s callous retort, admiring his boldness.
“You can’t fight him!” Sadie shouted.
“Yes I can,” Wesley replied as Chris Grim made his way through the assembled fighters, his brother Perry by his side. The glares of disapproval all focused on the duo.
“Challenge me, kid.” Chris said holding out his hand.
Sadie leapt out pushing Chris back, “You evil bastard!” she screamed.
He smiled, followed by a laugh. “I’m Death, what did you expect?”
Alwin held Sadie back as she tried to slap the smug look off the boy’s face, “You son of a bitch!”
“Steady on girl, he’s fine.” He laughed looking at the wrecked contender before him. Turning to Wesley he said, “Your turn next, if you’re man enough.”
Wes snatched his hand and shook it. The blue shimmer of light confirmed the clash as Wesley added. “Look forward to it.”
The brothers walked away, Wesley hoping his macho facade would last a little longer. Sadie grabbed him by the arm pulled him to one side.
“Are you stupid?”
“Why? You challenged him,” he retorted.
“We had no idea he was that strong.” She replied.
“It’s a game.”
“Does that look like a game to you?” she urged, pointing her finger at Darren. “Why are you doing this? To try to show off?”
“I’m fighting him! Get on my side or get off my back!” Wesley snarled, pulling his arm free, he vanished from sight.
Chapter Nine
The parcel had arrived. Wrapped in brown paper, there was no label. This had been hand delivered; the postal service was not trusted with such a sensitive package. Max ripped it open and pulled the cardboard box from the wrapping. He unfastened it and peered at the contents, a small silver box, a bottle of clear liquid and a note, typed not handwritten. The items came with instructions, like that really was necessary Max thought. The chloroform was contained within the bottle, which was the easiest part. The difficult part was what Max would be required to do with pencil case sized tin. It reminded him of the case he used at school to keep his ruler, protractor and pens in.
He had to urge himself to remove the tin. Finally he held the cold case in his hands and popped it open. Three implements were inside, just as he had requested. Two scalpels and a pair of tongs, Max looked at them for the longest time, his eyes steadfast and unwavering. He ran through exactly what he would do with them. The uncomfortable lump in his throat was still there from when he had seen the tattoo on Paul Ruben’s chest.
Max puffed out his cheeks and blew, disgusted by what he would have to do tonight. He could not get any sleep. After spending the early hours searching for something to take a mould of his keys, he'd eventually found some blue tack. His first choice was a bar of soap, the only problem was Mr Ruben preferred gels and lotions to soap, but a drawer in the kitchen filled with an array of miscellaneous items had come up trumps. After leaving the flat, Max had slipped into the stairwell put his boots back on, noise no longer an issue and left the complex.
Max had made a call, explaining in great detail exactly what obstacle had prevented him from finishing his assignment. He requested the package of items and asked for a dead drop location; somewhere another operative would collect the key imprints and furnish him with a set of copies to Paul’s apartment later on. The drop was nearby, using a MacDonald’s bag he’d found discarded on the floor, Max left his bag containing the blue tack next to a post box on the corner of Mansfield Road. A part of Max actually suggested he waited to see who collected it, but better judgement won, and he returned home. From then on he had remained awake. Tossing and turning for the remainder of the morning Max gave in and conceded he would not be getting his usual seven hours rest today. His eyes were heavy, they stung and a headache at the bridge of nose had gradually gotten more aggressive. Max wasn’t sure if it was tension or lack of sleep, he opted for a mixture of the two.
Max knocked back a couple of over the counter painkillers. He drank the last of the fizzy pop, crunched up the plastic bottle and tossed it into the hallway, the noise bouncing off the bare walls for a moment. Everything in his head was cloudy. Nothing seemed as straight forward as it usually was. Not sleeping was easily an explanation, the headache too, but a nagging voice in Max’s head tried to convince him it was his conscience. Sadly that was a luxury he could not afford, he had done too much, gone too far to even consider backing out. Wanted by the Associates and the authorities, the expanse was keeping them at bay. Max knew it wouldn’t settle for anything less than what it asked for.
The sunlight had risen on another day. Max hadn’t even noticed the room brighten up as the rays of light filtered through the trees outside and into his living space. Time had slipped his attention, the call he received midday, making him realise just how long he had been mulling things over.
He didn't check the number, “Yes?” Max answered.
“I have an addition to your assignment.”
Max’s head dropped. “Go on.”
“Before you complete your mission, you need to make a delivery.”
Max’s lack of sleep was evident in his voice, “So I’m a postman then?”
“You are whatever is required.”
Max bit his lip, the voice reminding him of Edward. “Yes, of course.”
“You need to give the boy an envelope, it will arrive along with the keys for Mr Ruben’s property.”
“You want me to just put it through the door?” Max knew how stupid it sounded the moment the words left his lips.
“If that could be avoided it would be marvellous. Use the call, not your mobile.” He added in-case Max had another sudden urge to blurt out a ridiculous response. “Leave the envelope where he can find it.”
“What’s in the envelope?” Max rubbed his face in anguish, what is wrong with you! He shouted silently in his head.
“I’m afraid that is none of our business.”
“Yes, sorry.” Max apologised.
“Deliver it before eight tonight.” The voice told him, before adding. “Try to get some sleep, Max.”
The warm temperature and a glorious sunny morning had expelled almost all signs of the snow. The picturesque white landscapes giving way once again to the cold, grey concrete jungle of the city. Edward noticed the town centre was busier today than it had been at the weekend. He made his way along Parliament Street, weaving in and out of pedestrians who unintentionally impeded his brisker than usual walk. Edward’s evening had been taken up mostly with recalling what had been said at the meeting with Sarah. She had brought something to his attention, he had already suspected the minute Maximus had eluded the Associates trap. The fact he had never seen anyone in the organisation set-up before, was a clear indication something was wrong. The set-up, the abduction of Thomas Kern and the arrival of a new player, who until now had been shielded from the Associates all powerful sight. These were no coincidences, they had taken planning.