Arena Book 6

by Logan Jacobs

  I woke several hours later with a no nonsense, plain as day, male doctor standing over me as he checked my vitals.

  “Hey, uh, who are you?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Doctor Trap-Per J’Onn,” he replied as if I was stupid. “I’m your physician.”

  “What about the lady doc who was here earlier?” I asked, still woozy from whatever I had been given. “The beautiful green-skinned one with the great boobs?”

  “We do not have a doctor who fits that description, I’m afraid,” the doc said.

  “Of course not,” I groaned as her last whispered words came back to me.

  “We clearly need to reduce your painkillers,” he continued.

  “How am I doing?” I asked him and started to sit up a little.

  “Very well,” the doc replied. “Surprisingly, actually. You are one very tough human. Now, get some rest and we should have you out of here in another day or so.”

  “Thanks, doc,” I said as I laid my head back on my pillow.

  “You happen to see that doc with the great boobs, send her my way,” Trap-Per joked.

  “Nah, you wanna steer clear of that one, doc,” I shot back at him. “She was kind of a bitch.”

  Trap-Per chuckled and then left the room.

  I sat for a while in the soft glow of the medical instruments and listened to the rhythmic hum and beep while my mind wandered.

  Team Havak had really stepped in some shit this time, that was for sure. There were some very not good things going on behind the scenes of the Crucible of Carnage and I needed to decide how far down the rabbit hole I was willing to go.

  “You are very lucky to be alive,” a smooth, crisp, British voice said from the end of my bed as if in answer to my thoughts.

  “Tyche,” I said without opening my eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Because clearly, you are not as stupid as you appear, Marc Havak,” Tyche replied. He was a shadow of his normal holographic self. Little more than a shimmer of light that anyone passing by the room would just think was an odd reflection.

  “Yeah, you ain’t the first one to notice that, pal,” I said, not even trying to hide my disdain for the asshole. “I’m tired. What do you want?”

  “Just wanted to make sure that you got the message earlier,” Tyche replied with no trace of any emotion. “Good doctors are hard to find, you know. Some make mistakes and patients end up dead.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got the message loud and clear,” I sighed. I was exhausted by all of this. As if it weren’t bad enough having to fight in a giant interstellar battle royale every other day, now I had to worry about some fucking grand conspiracy on top of it.

  “Just double checking,” Tyche said quietly. “I know you have a soft spot for my… how would you say it? Daughter, Artemis.”

  “Yeah, I do,” I responded as a bit of red rage began to bubble up from deep within me that didn’t give a damn about pain or stitches. Artemis’ initial AI program had been born of a piece of Tyche’s programming which made Tyche essentially Artie’s dad.

  “It would be a shame if part of her was erased,” Tyche said. “It’s a part of me that I can easily do without, but if the program was deleted, it would not go so well for her.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked. “She’s human now.”

  “True,” Tyche mused. “But there are ways to get into her brain. A back door if you will.”

  “Tyche, so help me, if you ever hurt her--”

  “You’ll what, Havak?” Tyche taunted. “You want to make sure you are not making idle threats that would be impossible for you to carry out. Neophor found that out the hard way. But really, you have nothing to worry about if you just go back to being a simple champion. And do what you are here to do. Kill or be killed.”

  “You son of a bitch,” I whispered and wanted to throttle the smug fuck, but he was right. I had no idea how to hurt him, seeing as how he was a hologram and apparently able to control many aspects of the Crucible at his whim. The rage went out of me. “Kill or be killed, Tyche. That’s all I’m here to do. Don’t worry.”

  “Oh, I won’t,” Tyche said and began to shimmer and fade away. “Follow your doctor's orders. Get some rest. And keep your mouth shut.”

  With that he was gone.

  “Prick,” I muttered as I closed my eyes once again.

  “Only if it’s yours,” a feline voice purred next to me.

  “Hey, Fallon,” I smiled and kept my eyes closed.

  “Oh, boo, I didn’t scare you,” she said as she emerged from the shadows of the room near the drapes by the window.

  “Fool me, like, I don’t know, thirty times, shame on you,” I joked. “Fool me thirty one, shame on me. Did you happen to catch any of that convo?”

  “All of it,” Fallon said as she sat down on the edge of my bed and began to caress my arm with her soft, fur covered fingers. It felt very nice. “He is not wrong, Marc. We all need to be very careful.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. “I don’t like being bullied, Fallon. And he’s as big a bully as they come.”

  “What are you going to do?” She asked as she slid up on top of me. Her hand deftly undid the ties of my hospital gown and it was soon pulled away. The cool air of the room was a jolt but the warmth of her body soon chased away the chill. It wasn’t until she was on top of me that I realized she was completely naked.

  “Nothing, right now,” I admitted. There wasn’t anything I could do. But I was pretty sure that wasn’t always going to be the case. “Except let you have your way with me.”

  “Good,” she purred and then kissed me hard on the mouth. There was a slight tinge of warm, amber booze on her breath as her tongue danced over mine.

  I tried to reach up to take hold of her but the tubes and wires made it difficult.

  “Oh, poor boy, can’t move. Let me do all the work.”

  “Um, okay,” I muttered as she slid her silky body up and down over mine. The tingles it sent through me were like none that I’d ever felt. It was delicious torture and my cock was soon rock hard.

  Fallon leaned up and teased my lips with her pert, hard nipples, daring me to try and take them into my mouth. When I finally did, she purred low and loud.

  “Yes, I like that,” she groaned. “But I like this more.”

  Fallon wriggled her hips and the next thing I knew I had slid all the way into her soft, wet pussy.

  “Oh, my god,” I whispered through gritted teeth. The pleasure was sudden and incredibly intense.

  She then began to rock back and forth every so gently and slowly so that I slid in and out of her with delicate precision. It was all I could do to hold on.

  Fallon sensed that I was close to the edge and instead of slowing down she sped up as she wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head into me. She purred and panted wildly, like an animal.

  “Don’t hold back, Marc,” she growled as her own climax quickly approached. “I want you to cum so hard. I love your cream in me.”

  She continued to buck on top of me while holding me tight and soon our orgasms ripped through both of us. I felt the clenching of her muscles around my throbbing cock as my climax raged. Then I gave her the cream that she wanted, and she let out a long pur when my cum filled her up.

  We stayed still for a long while. Just breathing in the sexy smell of one another while I was still deep inside of her. Eventually Fallon rose onto an elbow and kissed me again gently on the lips.

  “Now you get some rest, Marc Havak,” she whispered to me as the shadows grew around us and sleep began to whisk me away. “Doctors orders.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I knew Darry Dar’Tor from the day he hatched until the day he breathed his last,” Grizz said somberly. “And every single one of those days was a joy.”

  We all stood in the bright midafternoon moonlight in a small, walled-in cemetary high above the hustle and bustle of the city. It was maybe a hundred yards square and occupied a
lovely patch of unobstructed sky. The grass was the greenest I’d ever seen, and there were trees that had thick, rich, cherry blossom like blooms that surrounded the inside of the wall and helped block out the sounds of vibrant life all around. Small, round, tombstones made of brass-like metal were embedded in the ground every few feet.

  Artemis had told me when we arrived that the remains of those who wished to be buried here were always cremated and then added to the irrigation system and would provide nutrients to the grass and trees. So that in death there was life anew. It was one of the most prestigious cemeteries in the city. The round brass marker that had Darry’s name embossed on it sat next to an older one that bore his father’s name.

  We surrounded the small marker in the mild midnight moonshine as a light breeze blew the blossoms across the grass. It was very serene and peaceful.

  All of us were decked out in our somber best. PoLarr wore her full military dress uniform which had been pressed with sharp, starched creases. Her medals shone on her chest and she looked dangerously regal.

  Next to her was Nova in a long, dark purple, crushed velvet dress. Her hair was done in her normal warrior braid, but it was woven with strands of small flowers. She stood with her head bowed in reverent silence.

  Across from her was Aurora, who had majorly toned down her normal lingerie as casual wear motif. She was in a full length lace dress, that did have a plunging neckline that showed off her incredible breasts, but the rest of her was completely covered. She even wore a small, black lace veil that covered half her face. It couldn’t mask the tears that had drawn small rivers of sorrow down her alabaster cheeks.

  Tempest was to her right. She had gone with a slim, thigh length suit skirt with a matching jacket in dark navy blue. Her bright orange hair hung about her face in ringlet curls. She had her hand on Aurora’s shoulder in support.

  Directly to my right and pulled in close was Artemis. She had on a modest, full length black dress with long sleeves and a large black sun hat. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of oversized jet-black sunglasses.

  To my left was Captain Har’Gitay in her full CDPD dress uniform. She mirrored PoLarr in a way with her shiny medals and ribbons of valor over her left breast. Her hair was done up tightly under a smart looking cap with a shiny police shield on the front.

  Chazz stood behind us in what he had said was his kind’s ceremonial burial garb. He wore a bright orange plaid and pink skirt that strongly resembled a kilt, a matching orange plaid tunic, and he had bright white knee length socks over each calf. The shoes he wore were black patent leather and had orange puff balls instead of laces. He played an instrument that was like a cross between a bag-pipe and an accordian. The sound it emitted was sad, soulful, and full of loss.

  I had gone with a classic three button black suit, crisp, white, cotton shirt, and a black tie. A pair of Wayfarer shades hid the sadness in my eyes.

  Grizz had taken center stage as he was the one to deliver the eulogy for Darry. His holographic form was clad all in black, like a viking funeral designed by Calvin Klien. He too wore a pleated skirt that was similar in form and function to a kilt but his was adorned with a bright silver belt and a short, ornate ceremonial sword like a gladius. Bright holographic tears twinkled in his eyes as he spoke.

  “Darry’s father had been my weapons master during my time as champion during the Crucible of Carnage,” Grizz continued. His face was a mixture of fond nostalgia and recent grief. “So I was there on the day he was hatched. From the time he could hone an edge or modify a trigger mechanism, Darry was obsessed with providing the best protection to those who came under his care. It seems strange to stay those things about someone who crafted implements of death, but Darry understood that the universe was often a cruel place, and that the Crucible was even crueler. He never took a client he felt was there just for the sake of war, no matter how much credit was offered. And he would often drastically lower his rates for champions he felt had heart and courage but needed an extra edge.”

  Artie let a sob go beside me. I reached around and pulled her closer.

  “Sadness is the worst feeling ever,” she whispered into my ear. “It is like my heart is being squeezed in a George Foreman grill.”

  “That is an incredible analogy, Artie,” I said as I tried to console her.

  “Yes, sadness sucks.”

  “He was a young man when I lost my life in battle by a weapon Darry had actually created,” Grizz continued. “He would have had no way of knowing that it would be used against me by a traitorous coward. Nearly a century later when I was resurrected as a trainer, the first thing Darry said to me was, ‘Grizz, I am so sorry. If you ask, I will never make another weapon of destruction ever again.’ That was his level of responsibility. Of course I told him not to be ridiculous. To deny that which you have been put in this cosmos to do, is to defy the great gods who have put you here. To his last day, Darry fulfilled that purpose in a way I know made those gods proud. Rest well, Darry, and may your ancestors rejoice in your return to them.”

  When Grizz was done speaking he took a knee next to Darry’s marker, kissed the tips of his fingers, and placed them gently on the moon warmed brass.

  I heard sniffles from all around me, and then realized that I myself had tears streaming down my face. Grizz stayed on the ground and I could just barely make out large, holographic tears as they fell from his eyes to splash in little sparks of light on the ground around him. I moved away from Artie and knelt beside him. I placed a kiss on my own fingertips and then put them next to Grizz’s on the marker.

  The next thing I knew, more hands joined ours, and when I looked up everyone had done the same as Grizz and I.

  “Darry was lucky to have had you as a friend,” I said quietly to my trainer.

  “No, Marc,” Grizz said, his voice strained with emotion. “I was lucky to have had him as a friend. As I am lucky to have you all.”

  “No, Grizz,” I echoed. “We are lucky to have you.”

  Everyone else nodded and agreed.

  We stayed that way for a long moment and just listened to the wind rustle the blossoms.

  Eventually we got up and without speaking filed out of the cemetery and back down to the ground.

  “Why doesn't everyone come back to the apartment?” I asked as we began to hail a hover cab. “I’ll have Woodhouse set out a spread, we can chill, I can introduce the Captain to movie watching.”

  “Actually, Havak,” Har’Gitay said with a wry smile. “That sounds perfect. I have the rest of the day off anyway.”

  “Sweet,” I bubbled. We hadn’t been able to have any downtime in a while and after the last few days I needed it bad. I punched a button on my wrist-comm and Woodhouse’s cylindrical robotic face appeared on the screen.

  “Hello, sir,” he chirped in his delightfully mechanized British accent. “How may I be of service?”

  “Bringing a crowd home, buddy,” I told gleefully. “Put out a spread of everyone’s favorite nibbles, and fire up the entertainment system.”

  “Will do, sir,” Woodhouse replied.

  “Alright everyone,” I said. “To Casa de Havak!”

  We loaded ourselves into a large hover-van and ten minutes later I led everyone into the apartment.

  “Wow, Havak,” Har’Gitay said and whistled. “This is nice. Being a champion has its perks, I see.”

  “Eh, you know,” I shrugged. “What’s a little risking life and limb for digs like this, right?”

  “Fair point,” she said and sat down on our large sectional sofa.

  Woodhouse puttered out of the kitchen with six of his eight robotic arms full of trays overflowing with all different types of snack foods and hors d’oeuvres.

  There were pulled pork sliders, thai beef skewers, a Paladin's stuffed quail-like thing for Nova, some Starfall shrimp thingy, and a whole bunch of other delicious nibbles for everyone in attendance. Another tray was full of drinks, most notably an ice cold pint of Guinness.

 
I grabbed it and waited for everyone to get theirs.

  “A toast,” I said once the drinks were all in hand. “To Darry.”

  “To Darry,” everyone echoed and drank deep.

  “Okay, everyone,” I said through a mouthful of pulled pork. “Dig in. The show will start in just a few minutes.”

  “What’s on the slate today, Marc?” PoLarr asked excitedly. The Soul Gaze had given her all the memories of every movie I’d ever seen but she loved getting to experience them first hand.

  “Given our last week,” I pontificated. “Today we are going to watch Brian Helgelund’s neo-noir opus, L.A. Confidential.”

  “I know those were words, Havak,” Fallon said as she sipped on a tumbler of amber liquid. “But I don’t know what they meant put together.”

  “Oh, sugar,” Aurora drawled as she lounged on the sofa. “Just go with it.”

  “All right,” Fallon nodded.

  Even Baba-Tadao had let his guard down as he sneakily sidled up to where Nova had sat down on the couch.

  “Go ahead and start it, Woodhouse,” I said as I started to walk back to my bedroom. “I’m going to get out of this monkey suit.”

  I got back to my room and changed into a comfortable pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. I’d just turned to go back out to the living room when Captain Har’Gitay walked through the doorway.

  “Oh, hey, Captain,” I said, a little surprised. “If you’re looking for the bathroom it’s at the end of the hall.”

  “I’m off duty, Marc,” she said. I noticed she’d taken off her dress jacket and unbuttoned the top few buttons on her form fitting shirt so the top of her blue-gray breasts strained against the fabric. She’d also taken her hair out of the bun and it cascaded around her face like a blue-black frame. Har’Gitay strongly resembled a young Charlize Theron and in the later afternoon light that poured through my window I was awestruck by how truly stunning she was. “You can call me Olivia.”

  “Um, okay, Olivia,” I sputtered. “Uh, what’s up?”

  “You did an incredible job, detective,” she said as she leaned rather seductively against my doorframe.