by C. W. Ashley
Iggy nodded carefully, instantly knowing not to push the issue any further. Iggy was convinced of Grady’s loyalty to her, and the refusal to drink blood as a vampire was clearly a sensitive subject. Iggy had more questions regarding her ability to sustain herself, but he decided to stay silent. For the rest of the elevator journey, Iggy tuned out the sound of scraping metal as they reached the top of the tower.
The hallway that greeted Iggy was surprisingly clean and pleasing to the senses. Apart from a few loose wires and patches of graffiti, the design could almost be mistaken for a high-end penthouse in the center of a Citadel. A soft scent of mint-roast was about the air, and it instantly calmed Iggy’s nerves. Grady, still not speaking, sped up to overtake Iggy before swiping a white card against a scanning device on a door aways in front of him that opened with a loud beep.
“You’re in there, Daredevil. Get some rest.”
Grady didn’t turn around to address Iggy but instead disappeared around a corner at the end of the hallway. Shortly followed by the sound of a terrified, pleading man filling the entire floor.
“Graaaaady! Please man…I didn’t think anyone would be up here today…Graaady!!”
Iggy shook his head and decided to opt-out of hearing the next part of that incident. He hurried up into his room as he was so tired at that point he just wanted to collapse.
Luckily, the quality of the room matched that of the rest of the floor. Apart from the dark purple decor, lava lamps and multiple flickering vid-screens it wasn’t too different from his home back in the working stacks.
The recognizable atmosphere worked towards Iggy’s body powering down. As soon as he found the bedroom a few feet past the main kitchen area, he dropped to the mattress to let his bruised and filthy body rest. The muffled screams of the unwelcome guest that Grady found in the hallways were the last thing Iggy heard before sinking into a total slumber.
Swirling lights were the backdrop for a highlight reel of significant events in Iggy’s life. Spectacular car crashes, running through the slums as a child, the sound of obnoxious dance music playing on ad-vids at the betting shops, the strong stench of whiskey on his grandpa’s breath and the feeling of a pit groupie’s hair as he pulled it during a drunken romp. All of his senses were hyper tuned to this revolving door of memories, it was so pleasant he didn’t want it to end. Iggy was so mentally and physically exhausted from his first day in the waste that he would have quite happily never woken up.
The sound of beeping cut harshly through his peaceful daze, dragging him all the way back into consciousness like a deep-sea piranha being reeled out of the ocean. It was so unpleasant to his ears; with every beep like a high contrast bullet being hammered into his skull. His eyes swung open with a disturbed rage to see an alarm clock. Without even checking the time his body went on autopilot, punching the clock silent and swinging himself off the bed to find the shower.
Like a confused zombie, he managed to strip down and wash his body in the dimly lit cubicle. The superfine water-jets peeled dirt from every inch from his body in seconds without even making him very wet. A luxury feature for all cleaning devices outside of the slums. Deciding to forgo his bloody and dirty clothes, he rummaged in the bedside wardrobe for something better.
He found some underwear, socks, and a pair of heavy-duty motocross pants in the bedside wardrobe. It was what he saw stunt bikers wear in the locker rooms of death runs. The motor-cross pants were a sporty pattern of black and dark gold with a logo of a devil’s face on the side-legs. After rummaging again and finding boots to wear with it, he got dressed. He finally found himself back on the bed, shirtless and not really awake or asleep.
Shifting to his side he idly gazed out of the window. His eyes drank in the spectacle of the night sky from the perspective of one of the tallest towers in Folsom.
Barely aware of anything around him, all 5 of his senses turning on and off as he started to re-approach his deep slumber. He didn’t hear the lock clicking in the apartment door or the footsteps approaching the bed.
But he did feel the very cold hand on his bare shoulder.
“Wake up Crasher, six hours is long enough.”
Iggy did his best to force himself back into the brutal realm of consciousness as his skin prickled and his labored breath inhaled sharply. The tone was, warm, encouraging and gentle. But the voice was unmistakable – it was the Landlady.
“Only halfway dressed huh? Or do you not like shirts?”
The second sentence was in a more playful tone causing Iggy to roll over to face her. One eyebrow raised and both eyes squinted in fear of any brightness as they adjusted to the low light of the room. Drenched in the sensual hue of the lava lamp, Clarissa looked more radiant than ever.
Subtle dark blues made her skin look like a smooth blanket of midnight and her Mohawk was looser than ever, looking more purple than pink in the colored shade, with her eye retaining its gold-green shine. Still as ferocious and piercing as ever but with a touch of familiarity and the small amount of trust that comes with it.
She was now wearing a loose T-shirt that was branded with a logo that Iggy couldn’t make out in the light. Even the shadows couldn’t hide the curvature of her large bust. The shape contrasted with her very toned midsection and legs, which were covered by a pair of matching sweatpants that cuffed just above her calves. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed herself and Iggy’s barely sentient mind couldn’t make sense of it.
“Urgh...what is the time…?” Iggy yawned weakly.
“It’s Four-thirty, Crasher. Sunrise will scare me away soon enough, but I had to speak to you before your job…you probably wanted more details, right?” There was a coy quality to her voice.
Iggy grumbled a little as he tried to will his mind out of its waking spiral. “You didn't sleep much?” Iggy asked.
“These are my waking hours, I sleep when the sun is up, I'm sure Grady explained all this to you?” Clarissa said firmly while crossing her pale arms.
Iggy rolled his way into a half-seated position before nodding. Trying to look serious and keeping his eyes wandering around her figure. “I've actually been up all night watching you, Ignition.” She cackled frightfully watching Iggy stir at her revelation.
“M-me?”
“Ha. Not in this room, idiot. I was watching archived footage of your Derby highlights over the last five years. I had no idea that you totaled Reinbeck of the South end Lead-Slingers last year.”
Iggy groaned a little as his acute memory played him back the event clearly. “He was ranked #19, I think he was the betting favorite, a lot of his gang were in the audience.”
Clarissa smiled devilishly. “His gang couldn't have been happy he had to have both his legs amputated. You turned that tuner of his into a beer can.” Clarissa said, holding back some excitement at the violent details.
Iggy lowered his head grimly. “It's just part of the sport. I never tried to hurt anyone.”
Clarissa leaned forward, phasing out of the apartment neon and into a shadowy angle that obscured her face, leaving her golden eye to shine through like a laser. “You tried to hurt those Cookers after your cargo this morning, didn't you? The cleanup crew had to bring that driver back in 3 separate bags. That Scar-Buggy looks like modern art now. Was that part of the sport too, Crasher?”
She knew!? How!? And they've been cleaned up?
Iggy jerked backward in genuine fear as the Landlady continued to lean forward, her eye flashing with all sorts of evil discovery. “It was self-defense! They were shooting at me!” Iggy protested, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
Clarissa waved her hand dismissively. “You took a shortcut through their territory, right past their outpost. They were a guard patrol. Bandits generally don't fuck with delivery boys without a good reason. I wouldn't have heard about it otherwise.”
Iggy's face went cold with the new information as if it was splashed on his face. His ears throbbed and he felt a rushing motion as he replayed the batt
le with the bandits in his head.
They were guarding their outpost, I instigated...without realizing. And she knows everything.
Clarissa licked her lips and placed her hand on Iggy's quivering thigh.
“You don't just have a 10K bounty on you from the Citadel; you also got a Cook outpost asking about your last known location. They signaled me an hour ago while you were dreaming of your pit groupies or whatever”.
Iggy was frozen as she poured out all of her info, not being able to think or react. He was fully awake now as the feeling of doom started to creep up his back and toward his neck like a few dozen skirmish-spiders.
I'm trapped here…
Clarissa held her position without speaking or moving as her eye darted around the sight of Iggy's blood-drained face. “I didn't tell them where you are, Ignition. You're no use to me floating through a sewer system with all your skin removed.” She paused to chuckle. “I need you in that vehicle, I have to get to Maim-Creek in 24 hours, and your Blockgain Chaser is the only whip that will get me there on this short-ass notice.”
Some of Iggy's blood returned to his head as she relieved him of the threat of imminent death. But he was still very much shocked. Despite the details sparking immediate intrigue, he forced his throat to spit out a question.
“What and where is Maim-Creek?”
Clarissa leaned back into the visibility of the light, somehow looking even more gorgeous with a softer expression. “Maim-Creek is outside of this zone, in what some might call the badlands. It's one of Cook's hideouts. You remember his music career? The band he was in?”
Iggy nodded steadily. “That song...'Carpool of Waste’ used to be my entrance music, they only released one album or something right?” Iggy asked while scratching his hair.
Clarissa pressed down on Iggy's leg a little before letting go. “Exactly. They were too busy running a syndicate to keep up with their recording. His bandmates from 'Well-Done’ are his step-siblings: Frye, Baker, Grille and The Boil. I'm not proud of it, but Baker loaned me the start-up money for these beautiful Towers you find yourself in.”
Iggy's eyes managed to pull themselves away from Clarissa's darkened image to scan the room while he pondered the implications of her ownership.
“That's impressive,” he said flatly.
“What's impressive is how long I've put up with being in debt to that gang. I get a fuckload of interest on a building loan, plus I pay a couple of different taxes. Not just to them for cracking heads on Cook's turf, but also to the bloody Shell of Folsom, this gig ain’t easy, Crasher."
Something in Iggy clicked, his brain began to switch on despite only being semi-awake.
"So, what do you need me to do? Why do you need a derby driver?" Clarissa smirked grimly at his question, licking her lips with excitement.
"I'm gonna clear this debt, it's early but I'm going to deliver this last payment to Baker directly and get myself out of this contract. No more dealers. No more bullshit."
Iggy rubbed his eyes in mild confusion. "You don't drive?" he inquired.
Clarissa snorted under her breath. "Time is of the essence, I have to get to Baker while he is still in the zone. Otherwise, I have to wait ‘til pay drop next month. I would have killed every dealer in this tower by then. Your Blockgain can get me there in under 24 hours, that’s all the time we have."
Wiping a sleepy tear from his eye he nodded gently, trying to visualize a full day journey in the waste. "Wait, you said Cook's gang know about me, and you want me to drive directly to their underboss?" Iggy asked.
"You're not on his radar. Outpost business wouldn't reach that level until your bounty was seven figures,” Clarissa said. “Even then, he ain't gonna pull the trigger himself. He'd outsource the job. Nothing to be scared of, Crasher."
Iggy tilted his head a few times, deciding that made enough sense. He could only imagine how many targets and rivals that gang had. "24 hours...no stops?"
"No stops, I've already paid Blanch to fill your car up, repair any damage and install backseat blockers for the ride," Clarissa said with a hard expression.
Iggy's head reared back in slight disgust in response. "Backseat...what!? She did what to my car!?" Iggy snapped, with a fully awake face.
I only asked to have it stored, they've been messing with the Chaser without telling me?
Clarissa chuckled dismissively. "Calm down Daredevil, they are sunlight blockers in the backseat section. This might shock you, but vampires don't do too well in sunlight,” she said with a grim smirk. “Even with the blockers up I still get quite weak. But they will stop me from burning alive in your backseat."
"I suppose that makes sense," Iggy replied softly.
"Yeah me staying alive does make sense, don't think you'll last too long out here if something happens to me, I'm cargo you can't afford to lose," Clarissa informed with a razor-sharp grin.
Point made.
"Alright. I can do it. How much?"
"Twenty thousand, enough cover your bounty and buy some new rims or whatever."
Pay off the bounty, just like that?
Iggy sat there stunned, taken completely off guard by her offer.
"What's wrong Crasher? Don't you want to go back to the Citadel? Ain't much in the waste for you is there?" Clarissa asked with tightly folded arms.
An image of Sil jumped into his mind, triggered by her sentence. A flash of her hungry eyes when she killed the gecko and saved him. Another flash of her curious eyes in his vehicle when she mounted him. And finally, a third flash of her eyes with strange anger and sadness when she ran out on him.
Where did she go…and why?
"I'm not going back, Landlady. I left that place for a reason. There was no freedom in that cycle of life at all. I crashed cars, made money and spent money on repairs," Iggy stated with painful conviction.
Clarissa tilted her head in surprise. His tone of voice caught her off guard as he continued.
"The only time I ever felt anything was when I was driving, I didn't realize it at the time but I was always thinking about driving fast, to break out the arena and into the wide world outside of it. Competition of the derby is exciting, but I was just going in circles. I don't want that anymore."
Iggy was surprised at himself, his stream of thoughts pouring out from him so neatly as if he was ready to say this years ago. He contorted his face with embarrassment once he stopped. But was taken aback from Clarissa's face, which seemed just as sincere as he felt.
"Break out into the wide world…make your own life…" she muttered softly.
Iggy raised his eyebrow, just as wary of her softer demeanor as she was of his stronger one. He felt different, he wasn't sheepish and unsure anymore.
"You don't need Folsom, build a life somewhere you don't answer to anyone, no one should be taxing you for running things your way, Landlady,” Iggy said firmly.
The Landlady's single golden-green eye flickered curiously like an expensive candle about to go out. Her lips parted softly to make way for a single exhale that was perfectly silent but was felt on the air between them. She brought both of her legs closer to her to make her seated position on the bed a suggestive kneel, letting the weight of her bosom bring her heaving breasts into partial view in the dim light.
What did you say, Iggy, what did you do?
His chest was filled with a cocktail of confidence, fear, and primal vitality, he had never felt this way before, suddenly everything became clear and the Landlady's jagged beauty was amplified by his new focus. He had no words, but he felt like he was being interrogated in silence. She then broke it in a hushed but deliberate tone.
"Do you want to fuck me?"
Wha…?
Strange quivering noises came from Iggy as his mind struggled to process what he heard. His chest tightened and his neck boiled a satisfying heat that rose and settled in his ears. He wanted to speak but he couldn't, his tirade of confidence was gone as soon as it came.
She spoke again, this time m
ore clearly.
"Even in the dark, your stiff is pointing at me accusingly. We gonna do something about it or not?”
A flush of hot breath exhaled from Iggy’s lips, as he acknowledged the fabric of his racing pants pushing back and resisting against his private pulsations. Shockwaves of guilty arousal were coursing through him like a steady heartbeat and his back ached with a surprising new tension. There was no more use for words.
Disregarding any sense of smoothness or grace, Iggy crawled towards Clarissa hungrily before she snatched his face forcefully with one hand and took his lips into hers.
She wasn’t quite as physically powerful as Sil, but it was clear her strength was not that of a normal human. Iggy’s rational mind was sending him multiple warnings about her blood-sucking fangs, but his primal urges drowned them out easily. She kissed hard, but he kissed hard back. He let his pent-up desire for her power his actions and boldly grabbed one of her large breasts. As he squeezed it with a lusty intensity, his hand was almost swallowed by its soft pillowy texture. She hissed with pleasure as he began to knead and explore it with his hot-plate palms. Ice cool fingers clasped around his waist before smoothly gliding towards his stomach and finally dropping towards his bulge.
Iggy’s breath rushed out in pleasure and surprise as she navigated his zipper and underwear to grip and release his throbbing member from his pants, stroking and turning in sensual but deliberate motions, which set Iggy off in an explosion of titillation. This taller, much stronger vampire was pulling him firmly, causing him to gently rock his hips in whichever angle she tugged him in. His groans of ecstasy were muffled by her soft lips and overwhelming tongue. Her free hand crushed his buttocks with depraved force.
Iggy was completely under her control and he loved every second of it. Yet her body remained cold as if she had just returned from a walk in the waste at night without a duster. Iggy could feel his warmth clashing against her frozen skin. He was too wrapped up in his urges to consider it substantially. After she was done pinching his rear, she moved her hand to her own pants, pulling them down with slight clumsiness assisted by Iggy peeling them off with her with his non-groping hand. She paused the kissing to pull away from his face and look him in the eyes before giving him orders.