“Around. Yes. As in alive, relatively coherent, and in the state of California?”
“The state of something.” Niko tapped the counter.
“Yes, yes, yes, tell me about the critique group. Are you rich and famous yet?”
Niko summarized the night, including Barton Hennessey’s brutal declaration for the next BCBA Battle Con, three months away.
Teddy’s face went through a variety of expressions, from grimaces, to smiles, to a teeth-clenching wince. “Wow. So you stood there while each of them went through everything you were doing wrong. Well, that’s terrible—like a bad intervention. Only, they were trying to save you from yourself and not trying to get you off prank.”
Niko shrugged. “It hurt, but I expected that. It was this whole BCBA Quarterly Con deal that caught me off guard. They all want to take me apart.”
Teddy pooched out his lips, brow furrowed. It was his thinking expression. Niko liked that he knew Teddy so well, even down to the Axe body spray he liked to wear. And the stains on his LJ Crown T-shirt. LJ Crown was the current world champion, a Vannix House Battle Artist, and a legit Artist superstar. “This is all kinds of screwed up, Niko. First, we have this whole cusp business. Of course Hennessey is going to want you and Seo-yun to specialize. He has to sell individual Battle Signs to the corporations. If they can’t slot you, they can’t use you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t win as a cusp. That’s total BS.”
“Agents don’t like cusps, though. Seo-yun would need to fight Unrepresented,” Niko said.
“Unrepped, yeah, that’s right. There’s a guy, Blaster Max, and he’s doing well on the circuit.”
Just the name made Niko cringe. “Blaster Max. At least he only uses one x.”
“Each additional x would increase his douchery exponentially,” Teddy agreed. “The point being, Blaster Max is Unrepped and he has a career. You should see his So-Me fan page. Ten thousand followers. And he has a profile on the LBA website even though he’s Unrepped. And it gets better. Power Unlimited offered him a six-figure deal to represent him. Blaster Max turned them down.”
The door tinkled and two guys came in. They bought a case of Bud Light and left. During the transaction, Niko drifted back into the chip aisle, thinking. Power Unlimited was another Battle Artist Agency. Niko couldn’t imagine turning down an agent. Or going Unrepped. That went against everything he knew about how the industry worked.
Once they were alone again, Teddy waved a hand. “Anyway, I know how you feel about the Unrepped. I just feel bad for Seo-yun. She sounds awesome, nice, cute. And Henry, at least you have someone to encourage you.”
“A cheerleader,” Niko said. “So basically, I have an ally, that’s Seo-yun. And I have a cheerleader, and that’s Henry.”
Teddy raised his eyebrows. “So you’re not going to comment on the cuteness of Seo Flames?”
“Not even a little. She’s fine.”
“Fine. But she was nice to you. Which might mean she’s interested. Which might mean you might actually have a chance at dating again. You know, the opposite sex, it’s like working or fighting, except there are more body fluids involved. Other than blood.”
Niko made a face. “I don’t need a girlfriend. I don’t need the distraction. Seo-yun is fine. I think she’ll stay, and I think she’ll focus on her Sunfire abilities.”
“Shame. Gravitas is less popular but more powerful. So, if Seo-yun and Henry are on your side, relatively speaking, what about the leader guy and his middle-aged sidekick?” Teddy asked.
Niko stepped back and fiddled with the vape display. “Timothy and Marjory. I wonder how long they’ve been in the critique group.”
“Five years for Tim,” Teddy said. “I did a little researching on the internet. Took a break from porn. I know, it’s a miracle, but there you have it. I’m in your corner, Niko. Never doubt my commitment to your career. So, yes, Timothy Cooper, he fights under the name Cooper Ramsey, and he’s a Venus Belt. He’s big in the BCBA but doesn’t fight all that much.”
Niko had to grin. Teddy had done some research, reading the blogs and online profiles.
“That’s the thing,” Teddy continued. “Everyone in that critique group is obviously serious, but their fan pages are pretty empty. They have some followers, but they aren’t going to cons, they aren’t fighting much, and they aren’t racking up fans.”
Niko could explain that. “Right. They are working on their technique. They all have talent, but talent is not enough. You have to train, hone your skills, work on your craft, and then get an agent. That agent sells you to a corporation, and that’s when you start building your audience. But it takes time.”
“Unless you’re Blaster Max.” Teddy waved a hand over his shirt. “Even LJ Crown, he fought, constantly, on his way up. He racked up a ridiculous amount of losses. He couldn’t win at the beginning. Now? He can’t lose.”
“He got lucky,” Niko said. “You know his story. He was at some local Con, and an executive from SoulFire saw him fight. He got the contract, then the agent. That kind of thing never happens.”
“Only it did happen,” Teddy pointed out.
Niko sighed because Teddy was right. “Yeah, but I can’t hope to get lucky, Teddy. I have to train. And this critique group is my best chance.”
“You might be right.” Teddy sipped from his soda. “In the past five years, other members of the Premiers Critique Group got representation, except for Timmy. Most of the Artists signed on with Barton, but a few went to other agencies. Because Barton recommended them. Timmy is next in line. I think you’ll be fighting him at the BCBA.”
“I won’t be able to beat him,” Niko said.
“Not with that attitude, young man.” Teddy feigned frustration. “Don’t you see? Barton did you a favor. This will focus you like nothing else.”
Niko wasn’t sure. “If I do manage to win, Timothy is going to be a royal dick to me. Already, he and Marjory are difficult to deal with. I mean, I appreciate they’re trying to help us, but—”
Teddy cut him off. “They sound like bullying asshats. They have a little bit of power, and they like to lord it over people. Sure, as Venus Belts, they’re tough, but again, not a lot of fans. Marjory Littles, fights under the name Nance Iron, a Venus Belt, and again, only fights at the BCBA cons. Every single one of them. She fought at a small Florida Con a while back. Like ten years ago.”
“I might fight her,” Niko said. “But yes, sure, she’s like me, getting back into the life after being gone. Maybe she had kids. Maybe she had some kind of tragedy. I’m not going to talk bad about her. They’re trying to help me.”
“That might be,” Teddy said. “I wasn’t there. I don’t know. The stern taskmaster is a trope in the industry. The brutal master Artist who hammers you into a sword and then sharpens you to a fine edge through constant abuse. Or is it simple sadomasochism?”
“I’ll be able to handle Timothy and Marjory. They pointed out some good stuff. Diana? Not so much.”
Teddy nodded. “Diana Lopez, fights as Starshine, just got her Venus Belt, and is working on her Third Study. She’s new. And pretty. If I were Barton, I’d have you fight her. She could explode on her looks alone. Her profile pic has me erect.”
“Ugh,” Niko said in disgust.
“Erect. As in sitting up and taking notice. Perv. She’s pretty, and pretty sells, end of story. Pam Wired basically built her career on being beautiful. She wasn’t that good, but she made a bunch of money. It’s fine. It’s legit. Pam Wired was never going to win at the Grand Tournament, no, but she could wipe away her tears with hundred-dollar bills. It’s the way of the world.”
Niko wasn’t going to waste a single breath talking about Pam Wired. “Diana is fine. She can’t critique, but that’s okay. I’ll get a bellyful of that from Timothy and Marjory. I watched her fight. She was good, had great technique, but she wasn’t much fun to watch, you know?”
“I do know.” Teddy glanced out the front window. A car pulled in. It didn
’t park in front of the store. Three women went to the Happy Noodle for some midnight grease. “Some Artists work so hard on perfecting their prana usage, they forget that it’s a spectator sport. Perfect example? Myles War. He should’ve been the next big thing. Instead? He’s winning regional matches in China. Which pays the bills, but you won’t see him on commercials. You need some flash. Case in point? Both Blaster Max and Pam Wired are all about flash.”
Niko thought about what Barton had said. Flash would only get you so far. Yet there were a lot of famous Artists, doing commercials, and living comfortable lives, and all they had was flash. Then there was poor Myles War, a better Artist than most, but fighting in obscurity.
“Tell me about Henry,” Niko said.
Teddy, of course, knew all about the fifth member. “Henry Banks. Fights under the name Darkstar Banks, a Sunfire, and flashy. Actually, he just moved up from Angel City. He made a name for himself down there. He’s the one to watch. He has a thousand fans, and you can tell, he’s popular. And handsome. See? Looks count. Sad but true.”
Niko put it all together. “So basically, I could fight any one of them at the BCBA Con. It’ll probably be Timothy or Marjory, since they have seniority, but Barton could insist on Diana because she’s pretty. Or it might be Seo-yun to prove that she’ll give up on her Gravitas sign. Or Henry because of his popularity. Great. And you say this is good?”
“It’s good.” Teddy was all smiles. “Trust me.”
Niko wasn’t sure. He leaned back, closed his eyes to stretch, and then had trouble getting his eyes open again. “I’m beat. I have to crash. But thanks, Teddy, for covering for me, and for the information.”
“No, problem.” Teddy set his cup on the counter. “Least I can do.”
They fell quiet. Niko found himself complaining. “You know the thing that gets me about this Battle Artist business? If it were about talent, I would understand that. Or if it was just luck. Sure, fine, that’s fine. Talent or luck, it would make sense. But there’s this capriciousness to it. Timothy and Marjory shouldn’t be at the top of that group. Henry should be. But it very well could be that Barton simply doesn’t like Henry. Or Seo-yun. Or me, even. And there goes my chance. Or maybe Timothy starts liking me, and he talks to Barton about that. It’s all so human.”
Niko thought for another minute and added another bad scenario. “Even if I do get representation, and the contract, and the slot in the choicest matches, I still might not be able to make a living doing it. So why am I even trying?”
“What else are you going to do with your life?” Teddy asked. “Sell shoes?”
“You always say that.” Niko held up his hands as if modeling a woman’s pump. “Yes, I have that one in a size nine. Would you like it in red?”
Teddy waggled his eyebrows. “And there you go. You have a future in foot apparel, young man, if the Battle Arts don’t go your way.”
Niko left the store and walked home, two doors down.
Everything Teddy had said was right. The business was chaotic, capricious, uncertain, and yet, when he stood before an audience, fighting, Niko felt alive. More than that, it felt like he was right where he was supposed to be. It felt like righteous labor.
So he’d work. If there was one thing he could do, it was work.
Three months flashed by like a single long night after a very short day.
The Sierra City Battle Con
ANDREW J. COFFEY FINISHED signing the autograph on his way to his seat at the Sierra City Stadium. The woman had that twinkle in her eye and that flush in her face. She’d be in the bar after the fight. She’d made a point of letting him know that.
Her unspoken offer was tempting. He wasn’t going to give in easily, however. And he had to consider how discreet she might be. He’d check her So-Me page. That might be a good measure of her crazy.
Back when he’d been on the circuit, fighting every Battle Con he could get into, there hadn’t been a So-Me. There had barely been an internet.
He walked down the concrete steps. It was June, so it was hot, though the stadium had Woda Artists creating ice sculptures for the expensive seats close to the field. Andrew climbed into the seat next to Barton. Both were there as special guests. That wasn’t an accident. Andrew had checked Barton’s schedule and booked himself at the same events. More face time with his agent was always a good thing.
This was a large event, the largest in the central valley of California, which was part farmlands, part Wilds, split between SoulFire and Vannix House for the daemons that roamed there. Andrew hadn’t heard the whole story, but SoulFire’s CBA, Monique Lamb, had found something nasty in the Great Basin Preserve.
A lot of Battle Artists wouldn’t take a gig in Sierra City, but not Andrew. These events were becoming his bread and butter. Besides, Sierra City stretched from Bakersfield to Fresno, a long narrow urban corridor that followed Highway 99. Sure, the crowd was rough, the battles even rougher, but the intensity and rawness appealed to Andrew. It had been a long time since he’d had to sweat in the ring.
The stands were packed. This was the big Saturday night spectacle, a full Zodiac, twelve against twelve, gathered from the Sierra City Battle Artists association. Some were mid-list corporate Artists while others were Unrepped. Andrew wanted to see if he could tell which was which. They’d invited him to fight in the full Zodiac, but he’d declined. In the chaos of the fight, there was a chance he might get hit with some random blow, and a loss in Sierra City wouldn’t help him, not at this stage.
Besides, it gave him a chance to sit with Barton and take in the fight. Barton would have a few drinks, and his tongue would loosen. In vino veritas.
In wine, truth.
It was one of the reasons Andrew kept his wine intake to a minimum. At Cons at least.
Andrew settled in. The SCBA had found a professional top-of-the-line Arena Master, and the field below them wouldn’t just be an iron cage. It would be a full field, a prana manifestation using the energy of the crowd, fifteen thousand at least, packed in the University of California’s football stadium.
Not the domes of Orleans City, or even the world-class stadium in Angel City, but pretty impressive regardless.
The Zenith Spin landed on Metallurgy. The match started. Blue versus Red, across a thick pine forest with a river cutting through the middle. At first glance, it was like the football field had become a Carolina pine forest—you could hardly see the manifested prana shimmer.
The crowd roared as the first set of Artists engaged. Fire, ice, prana, dancing between the people, men and women, fighting.
“Was Mario pissed you didn’t join?” Barton asked. He held a UCS cup full of beer. A nice hoppy beer, full strength. Andrew could smell it.
“He was more surprised. Less pissed,” Andrew said. Mario ran the Sierra City Battle Con. He’d been a Battle Artist in Louisville but left after an injury. He couldn’t quit the life, though. Mario was a good guy. He might have been able to overcome the injury if he’d kept the warrior’s fire burning. He did have excellent technique, and he’d even beaten Andrew back in the day.
Barton nodded. “It’s good you skipped out on this. It’s a free-for-all down there. Goddamn Unrepped are going to ruin the Arts, I’m telling you.”
Andrew agreed wholeheartedly. “Look at that Woda. She’s wasting her prana on her Third Study because she’s not focused.” An Ice Strike pounded through the trees and took out a Terran Belt unlucky enough to be caught in the area of effect. It helped the blue team she was on, and yet her prana stats dropped.
Each of the twenty-four stats shimmered in the air and were also displayed on the scoreboard.
That Ice Strike wouldn’t have taken out Andrew, but it would’ve hurt.
Barton sighed. “Your boy, Nikodemus Kowalczyk, hasn’t quit yet. I’ve been at the critique group in Bay City a few times. Timothy and Marjory aren’t going easy on him.”
Andrew nodded. He remembered Niko Black. At zero sharira, he’d stood up and walked
off the tiles, which was stupid and dangerous, but the crowd loved it. The crowd. The fans. At times, they were ridiculously easy to please. Other times? They were brutal, unforgiving, fickle as a middle-school girl.
“He has the warrior’s fire in him,” Andrew said. “I’ve heard about the deal you made with the Premiers. Timothy texted me. So who is he going to fight?” Andrew asked.
“Let’s talk about that. It’s in a couple weeks. And damn, I haven’t decided.” Barton winced. The Woda, her prana low, got hit with a Radiance’s Fourth Study ability, Inversion. Inversion, hard to master, was a deadly skill. It swapped an opponent’s prana and sharira.
The crowd went wild. The Woda Artist went from a hundred percent sharira to ten percent. A Sanguine sped up and drove a foot into her stomach, and she doubled over. She went down and stayed down. It was a sacrifice move. That was stupid. A lot of times, the fans didn’t appreciate you when you took one for the team. They remembered the victors, not the ones who helped give them victory.
Andrew knew that from bitter, hard-earned experience. He’d made the sacrifice play back in 2012, and while it had helped for a bit, fans had short memories.
“Who do you think Niko should fight?” Barton asked. “Or do you even remember who’s in the group?”
“I do.” Andrew didn’t like that barb. Andrew was busy, juggling his fractured homelife with his career. It was a circus act of epic proportions. He didn’t want to lose either.
And yet, his wife, Linda, had moved out. They’d been talking at least. Linda had finally broken the silence. They went on dates now, which felt more like battles, skirmishes that Andrew felt ill-prepared to fight.
They were dancing around the central issue, and while Andrew thought he knew what was wrong, he wasn’t sure. And if he asked? That one question might completely sever their tenuous relationship.
“The obvious choice is Timothy,” Andrew said. “He’s been in the group the longest. If he doesn’t get a shot soon, he might lose the warrior’s fire.”
Sages of the Underpass Page 11