Arena 3

by Logan Jacobs

  “Fair enough,” I agreed.

  “PoLarr,” Grizz said as he walked over to her undulating clear plastic coated body, “while I much admire your Val’Keeyre valor and bravery, you should not have faced an entire alliance of five champions before alerting your teammates.”

  I saw the blob where her head was nod slowly.

  “Your strengths are in the air,” Grizz continued. “And you could have seen the bombardment of the Sliven Sloth and Squirrel coming had you let Nova, Aurora, and Marc handle the group on the ground.”

  “So, what happened in the trees while I was duking it out with Squirrel-Girl?” I asked Nova.

  “I thought I caught a glimpse of motion in that thicket of branches,” Nova said as she lifted her head from the pillow and sat up slightly so we could all see each other. As the sheet that had been covering her fell away I could see several pincer shaped deep purple bruises on her arms and shoulders. “I burst into the fray as that heinous Slag-Scorpion bitch was dispatching the last of another alliance. It took me a few moments to adjust to her fighting style before I was able to engage her effectively.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “she looked pissed off.”

  “Oh, not at all,” Grizz responded as he walked back over to our side of the med-bay. “That particular Hoteen-Scairp female was quite calm. You do not wish to see one angry, trust me.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, “what about you Aurora? Your situation looked like it escalated quickly.”

  “Oh, sugar, you have no idea,” Aurora replied. “I saw a group of champions trying to pick us off from what they thought was a safe vantage point. It was utter disarray the second I flew in. I’d just had that fresh infusion of life force so I was able to dispatch of two of the four of them with little trouble. A blast of dark matter and a few slashes from my little ‘ole blades had them begging for their mamas. The other two got scared and decided to run farther into the tree. Little did any of us know that there was a nest of those nasty little termites behind a thin layer of wood. We must have disturbed the sentries cause about ten of the flying insatiable mouths attacked us. That’s where I got these little love bites.”

  Aurora moved her hand with a flourish across her arms as if she were on a daytime game show.

  “I may have gotten a touch cross,” she admitted guiltily, “and overzealous with my dark matter and I think I disturbed the rest of the nest. Which, as it turns out, was quite large.”

  “You could say that,” I agreed. “I think that one guy was completely eaten before he knew he’d been eaten.”

  “That particular species of termite can gnaw through solid steel,” Artemis added as if I needed more convincing that they were bad. “Aurora, you are lucky your Shriike blood made you unpalatable to them. Once they have a taste for blood, they will stop at virtually nothing.”

  “Silver Tier is a much more difficult level of fighting,” Grizz said as he began to walk back and forth between all our beds like a general after a battle barely won. “And it is only going to get harder as you accumulate more wins on your way to Gold Tier. You all must start to fight smarter not just harder.”

  “Hard is good,” Nova said emphatically.

  “Indeed it is, sugar,” Aurora said with an evil gleam in her purple eyes.

  “Yes, hard is good especially when your goal is to pound those under you into submission,” Grizz said without any hint of his unintended double entendres.

  Nova and Aurora both looked at me and giggled. I wiggled my eyebrows back at them, and Artie whacked me on the arm.

  “You stop it,” she chided, but she was barely able to suppress her own giggles.

  “But relentless pounding without any nuance gets tiresome,” Grizz continued, completely oblivious to our stifled laughter.

  “Preach it, Grizz,” Aurora said and smiled at him innocently.

  “Your brains are your most potent weapon,” Grizz concluded. “And you may all laugh freely. I am aware that the words that just came out of my mouth could also describe vigorous yet monotonous copulation. Ha ha.”

  Grizz’s little outburst broke the dam, and we all burst out laughing. I even saw PoLarr’s gelatinous form giggle from giddiness.

  My Blue Betty drip was done and the robot hands quickly removed the IV. I sat up completely and ran my hands through my still damp hair. Now that I wasn’t occupied with the million aches and pains across my body I realized how gross I felt. The jungle had been stupid hot and crazy humid.

  “I’m pretty sure I smell as bad as I must look,” I said as I stood up from the med-bay gurney and started to walk toward the locker room. “I’m going to shower. And maybe take a much needed steam. If Tommy Three Fingers calls tell him Don Havak is taking a spritz.” I added with a pretty good New Jersey accent.

  Only Artemis laughed. We’d watched both the Godfather and Goodfellas recently while eating Woodhouse’s fantastic baked ziti with meatballs.

  “You are quite positive he has all of his mental facilities, Artemis,” Grizz asked again.

  “Yes, Grizz,” Artemis answered as her giggles subsided. “It is just Marc being Marc. He is imitating a stereotype of human mobsters who historically like to take long steam baths while typically plotting a murder or about to get murdered themselves. You should really watch a movie called Goodfellas.”

  “Ah, yes,” Grizz nodded in understanding, “Tension. Humor. Havak. I shall let everyone rest and think about their performance. Some should think harder than others.”

  He made that last comment directly at me before his holographic form disappeared.

  I made a little clicking noise as I pointed a finger gun at where he had been and made my way into the locker room. Normally after a match, I would hop into what I had dubbed the Spif-O-Matic 2000. A tiny little wash closet the size of a standup shower that could take a person from filthy to fancy in about ninety seconds. Today I wanted an actual old school shower and to rest for a bit in the steam room. Almost losing PoLarr had caused a tremendous amount of stress to say the least, and my back and neck were a mess of knotted muscle.

  I went over to the entrance of the showers, set the temperature control to a hot, but comfortable, one hundred and five degrees, tossed my mud and sweat-soaked jumpsuit into the little roving trash-can bot who promptly incinerated it. Unlike the shower that I’d had in my little one-bedroom apartment over the pizza place in Delaware, this shower didn’t need five minutes to run hot, and I was able to step in as soon as the water began to splash against the tiled floor.

  The hot water felt like liquid heaven as it sluiced across my skin. The grit, grime, and guts accumulated in the jungle were all washed away in no time. Artemis had been awesome and programmed our antimatter locker to make me a sweet sandalwood soap and shampoo.

  I scrubbed up all over so that I was clean as a whistle and smelled like wood and leather. Then I let the water wash over me for another three or four minutes before I turned it off, grabbed one of the thick, fluffy terry-cloth towels from a hook near the shower door, and walked over into a small sauna room.

  A few weeks earlier it had just been another wall in the locker room, but once we moved up to Silver Tier, the steam room seemed to appear out of nowhere magically. Artie said it was the same concept as my apartment which got bigger and nicer the more matches I survived or won. The gym apparently got upgrades as well. We ended up getting more room, better battle-bots to train with, and this sweet sauna room. It was modeled after ones from Earth, I guessed since this was technically my alliance, and was made from planks of hemlock, red cedar, and pine. In the center of the room was a small heating unit that had a pile of volcanic rocks that sat in the center. Hot, dry heat emanated from the unit in visible waves, and a bucket of water with a large ladle hung from a hook on the side of the heater.

  I sat down on one of the smooth, expertly cut and finished cedar benches, put my arms across the cool wood and laid my head back. The old saying about things being better in a dry heat was not wrong. Sweat sprung from my p
ores instantly and began to drip down my body, but even though it was probably twenty degrees hotter in this little wooden box than it was in the jungle, the lack of humidity made it seem much cooler. Soon I was sweating like a whore in church but it felt clean and cleansing. Not like the damp, dank, cloying sweat from the jungle. After a few minutes of the dry heat, I poured a big ladle of the water onto the rocks and steam billowed up from the heating unit. While it increased the humidity, it was still better than the jungle. Now that I had a chance to think about it, I really hated that fucking jungle. I threw another ladle onto the rocks so that the inside of the sauna was cloudy and thick with eucalyptus-infused steam that helped open up my breathing and felt lively on my skin.

  I breathed in slow and deep and let the heat and steam relax me. It was hard to come down from a particularly chaotic match, and the jungle had sure as shit been chaotic. I didn’t allow myself to feel it at the time but nearly losing PoLarr really shook me. I’d grown closer to my alliance mates, figuratively and literally, than just about anyone on Earth and seeing PoLarr hurt both scared and angered me. I made my mind up right then and there that I would train as much as Grizz demanded if it meant being able to keep those I cared about safer on the battlefield.

  I had started to drift off into a pseudo-trance like state when the door of the sauna opened and Artemis walked in. From what I could tell she was naked except for her own towel. Her shoulder-length chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she held two twenty four ounce green glass bottles in her hands. Beads of thick condensation formed on the green glass immediately as she sat down next to me. She handed one to me, clinked the top against mine and, without a word took a big drink. Not to let one drink alone I took a pull from my bottle as well. The lightly carbonated liquid tasted like a premium light beer and was completely refreshing in the heat of the sauna.

  “I’ve been brewing this for a few weeks,” she said after she let out a little burp. “It’s a mix of hops and barley in Earth’s Pilsner tradition that I then infused with hydrating minerals. What do you think?”

  “Artie,” I said after I had drunk nearly half the bottle in three big swallows, “this is fucking fantastic. I guess I have to add brewmaster to your already impressive list of titles.”

  “Silly,” she laughed and brushed her shoulder against mine. When her laugh faded, I could see her brow knitted together in concern. “Marc, I was very worried for everyone today. I hate having to just watch while you all fight for your lives. I thought the fear and anxiety would lessen as time passed but it only seems to get worse. How is that useful in any way? Just when I think I have this whole feelings thing under control they go and get all grass telegram again.”

  “Grass telegram?” I questioned. Usually I was able to decipher Artie’s euphemistically challenged English pretty well, but I was pretty drained and a little buzzed from the beer.

  “You know,” she said and flailed her hands around her head wildly, “mixed up and crazy in here.”

  “Oh, haywire,” I uttered when I finally got what she meant. “Yeah, feelings do that.”

  “Well, it is stupid,” she responded almost like a pouty child. It was incredibly adorable.

  “That it is,” I agreed, “that’s why we have an entire profession to help people figure them out. And we still struggle. I was pretty scared today too.”

  “You were?” Artemis asked a little incredulous. “Marc, you always make it seem so effortless. I mean, yeah, you almost die. Like, a lot. But, I don’t know, you make it look easy somehow. Like courage is second nature. I kinda think it’s why your fanbase has grown so much in such a short amount of time.”

  “Trust me, kid,” I said and took another long pull from the bottle, “it ain’t easy. And I am not courageous.”

  “Shut up your face,” she shot at me and punched me in the arm. “You never hesitate even when you are facing seemingly insurmountable odds.”

  “Artemis,” I said as I grabbed her hand and looked her right in the eye, “my great uncle Joe always said that courage wasn’t what you had when you weren’t afraid. Real courage was doing something even though you were terrified because not doing something would get people hurt. I’m so scared every time I mat-trans out of here that I can barely think. And then, the action starts and it’s either fight or never see your face again. And I literally can’t bear the thought of that.”

  “You are an idiot,” she said and wiped away the tears that had started to fall from her eyes.

  “Yes. Yes I am,” I said and kissed her gently on the lips. “So, tell me more about this ever-growing fanbase.”

  “Well,” she responded and took another sip of her beer, “you have a dedicated fan club that has just grown to over fifty-thousand members as of ten minutes ago.”

  “Fuck you, I do not,” I blurted out.

  “Okay, and you do,” she said right back and made to remove her towel. I smiled and stopped her hand before the towel fell, and I lost the will to not have sex at this exact moment. While I did indeed wish to have sex most moments, I was pretty damn curious about the whole fanclub thing.

  “So, what does that mean to have a fanclub?” I asked.

  “Pretty much the same as it means on Earth,” she answered as she tucked the edge of her towel back into the swell of her breast, and I instantly regretted stopping her from removing it. “People get on the needle-net and talk about you. Mostly what they like about you, which is that you are attractive, funny, and somehow manage to survive when you should not.”

  “It is a gift,” I added and finished off the beer. It had been excellent, and I actually felt hydrated from it. And a little buzzed. Artie made strong beer. As if I wasn’t in love with her enough as it was.

  “You also have an impressive amount of haters,” she said is if it were a good thing. “Like, thirty thousand, actually.”

  “And that is a good thing?”

  “Oh yeah,” she responded with a vigorous nod of her head, “being mediocre is like, the worst that you could be as a champion. No one wants to talk about you if you are decidedly average. But, if you can inspire love and hate, well, that is rare.”

  “Yay?” I eeked out as I was feeling not quite convinced about that statement.

  “Big yay,” she bubbled, “huge, as the President would say. Oh, that reminds me he has a solo interview with Trillium Vou later tonight. We should watch. Anyway, so, fan clubs kind of spread your deeds in the arena far and wide, and donate money. You have four-hundred-thousand six-hundred and thirty credits in your discretionary account at the moment.”

  “What can I do with that money?” I asked. I wished I had another sip of beer so I could have done a spit take.

  “Anything you want,” she answered simply. “You can save up and purchase skill upgrades, buy clothes and cars, or blow it all on prostitutes and benzoylmethylecgonine if you so wish.”

  “Hookers and blow,” I shrugged, “tempting but no. Hey, so, I don’t need any of those things, except the skill upgrades. Could I give some of it to Fallon? To help her community out?”

  “Marc, that...” Artemis said as she thought about it, “is a wonderful idea, actually. The last champion to do something like that was… Grizz. He used most of his fan club earnings to build shelters on his homeworld.”

  “That big handsome lug,” I said and got unexpectedly choked up for a second. As soon as I had the oversized Space Conan figured out, I had to hear something like that and gained even more respect for him.

  “I do not think he would like being called an attractive tire nut,” Artemis said with a frown. “I think your idea is fantastic though.”

  “It’s a term of endearment,” I explained. “And thanks. I just thought, you know, all the champions are fighting to make things better on their own planets, but no one is looking out for the people of this planet. By helping Fallon out, we kind of kill two birds with one stone. Makes it easier for her to be our patron and maybe makes life a bit easier for the folks in h
er neighborhood.”

  Artemis stared at me for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss me or call me an idiot. Then she grabbed my head and planted a huge kiss, full of her darting tongue, on my lips.

  Her towel fell away of its own accord as she pressed her body into mine. We’d been together many times at this point, but her body and all its curves still excited me in an instant. I went to pull her up so that I could lay her down on the bench, but she pushed my hands over my head and smiled at me lasciviously.

  “No, no, no,” she whispered, her voice full of mischief and desire. “I am going to abscond under on you.”

  “I’m sorry what?” I sputtered.

  “Depart under on you,” she whispered again. “You know, put your cock in my mouth until you climax.”

  “Ohhhhh,” I said and nodded my head up and down vigorously. “Go down on me.”

  “Yes,” she responded as her hands tore my towel away. I was about to say something sexy and charming but then her warm, wet mouth took in every bit of my very hard manhood, and I lost myself to one of the single most pleasurable experiences on this or any other planet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Why are we not going to Into the Breach again?” I asked as the five of us walked down a busy street in the middle of downtown Valiance City just as the twin moons were setting to signal the beginning of dayfall.

  “Funny story, Marc,” Chaz answered from my left where he had squeezed himself between Artemis and me. “The last time I was there I may have upset the bartending staff, the waiter-bots, and all the bouncers. And by upset I mean enraged. I’m not allowed back in for three full lunar cycles.”

  “Ah,” I uttered. “What did you do?”

  “I would rather not talk about it at the moment,” Chaz groaned. “It is still too fresh.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry Chaz,” I said and felt bad for the little guy, “I didn’t mean to bring up a bad memory for something that just happened.”