Changling: The Lost Ficlit (Warning... long)
This is a bit of fic that I wrote for a Changling: The Lost game that I play in called 54 Reasons. My character is a Draconic Fairest, who was a Gladiator of sorts in Arcadia and a Nercotics Officer before he was taken. It's about 7 pages long... fair warning.
Beads of sweat slowly ran down his scarred and glyph tattooed torso as he knelt in a resting position in the center of his apartment trying to control his breathing, Sun and Earth Hammers laying at his side. His chest heaved in and out as he fought to control his breath and slow his rapidly pounding heart. As of late, he had increased the intensity of his training sessions, pushing himself to the physical limits of his body in an effort to forget. Two days without sleep, pausing only to drink and occasionally eat. Where drugs and alcohol had failed, perhaps physical exertion would succeed.
The shadows in the room slowly began to grow as the sun went down outside. As they grew larger more and more of the Fairest’s physique slipped into the darkness until there was nothing visible, not even a figure in the shifting darkness.
A rattle of chain and the sound of something heavy being dragged slowly against the hardwood floor was the only sign of movement until the slow whistling rattle of chain in motion filled the room. For fifteen minutes, it was the only sound in the gloom. Then a ragged sounding breathing floated out of the shadows to accompany the whistling rattle.
Forty-Five minutes later, the sound of the chain slowed and faded as the ragged breathing increased. His body reaching the point of exhaustion, Sean slowly crumpled to the ground breathing hard. He reaching for the water bottle, knocking it over, and as the water spilled out of the top his vision went black.
**************
The Dragon within roared as it tasted blood in his mouth. His ears rang with the sounds of steel against steel and steel against flesh. The burning sand seemed to melt into his skin and scorch his open wounds, as he lay prone and face first in it. In agony he lifted his head and stared upwards at the covered awning and the figures seated beneath it, they’re features obscured by the blazing sun behind it. The rolling sound of voices in pain, victory, and blood lust rose to a roar as a shadow fell across his face. His eyes focused on the figure now standing before him, framed by the light of the sun, before resting on the blade in the figure’s hand. A frustrated snarl escaped his lips, the blood and sweat stained sand tasting bitter with defeat on his lips as he watched the blade descend and felt it’s edge bite deep.
The shock of the intensity of the vision and the cold water reaching his face woke Sean abruptly. As he lay there, his body shaking, the man who once was Sean Hayes closed his eyes tightly and whispered, “Why?” A violent rage, the dragon's rage, settled across his mind like an ocean-bred storm, dark, towering, and unrelenting. Savagely he repressed the need to rend and tear. When the shaking subsided, Sean stood and walked towards the small rolled glass windows of the apartment. Crossing his arms, Sean watched the street below as he gathered the shadows in the room around him almost as an after thought.
“This can’t continue...” Suddenly, he lashed out, shattering the quiet and the remnants of a life that he didn't want and never really would be his. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, he gave in to the dragon in his veins for the first time since crossing the Hedge. Lightning flashed, the wind howled, and outside a spring rain began to wash away the grime and snow as a bestial roar echoed down into the alleyway.
**************
The sun shone brightly through the tattered remains of dark cloud from the storm the night before. Sitting in one of New York’s many smaller parks and eating a hot dog, Sean watched the people. He watched the people walking, playing chess, laughing, talking, loving, and living. He watched the children running and screaming with joy, feeling the change of the seasons more acutely then the adults around them. He smiled as watched a young man and woman walk past him on his bench with his hot dog and Fanta holding hands.
“He would have been about his age.” Sean said to himself as the couple continued down the sidewalk, laughing as some of the playing children ran between them momentarily separating them. Almost without thinking about it, the young couple reached out for one another before looking into each other’s eyes and sharing a passionate, though brief kiss.
“His age….” His voice echoed in his own mind. Unbidden, the memory came to him. He had gotten home late; the lights in the small brick house he had worked so hard for, were out. Sarah would have put Nicholas to bed hours ago, and having long ago become used to the rotation that saw Sean occasionally pulling graveyard shifts at the precinct. She was likely also asleep in their bed, dreaming of the day when Sean would be promoted.
He was tired, but tomorrow was the beginning of a three-day break from work and his first real time off in months. Sean smiled as he walked up the three steps to his front door and put his key in the lock. A small shock jolted through the key and up into his arm a split second before the force of the explosion threw him across the street and into the side of the van parked there. Sean forced himself to his feet and half ran, half fell his way back towards the inferno that raged consumed the little brick house.
Alex, his firefighter neighbor that lived two doors down ran out of his house at the sound of the explosion and saw Sean struggling to make it to the door. Experience told him without a glance that Sean’s wife and son were already dead. Alex intercepted Sean and held him as tight as he could as Sean raged and cried, screaming out for his family. Tears falling down his face, Alex fought to save the only life he could.
Coming back to himself, Sean watched the young man and his girlfriend continue to walk away, his hot dog forgotten. The dragon awoke and tasted grief and hate as the words of the fire investigator and his Lieutenant echoed in Sean's ears. “It was an accident Officer Hayes....”
**************
Sean pummeled his opponent with barely contained force. The practice dummy rocked and shuddered beneath the punishment Sean unleashed. His intensity had both granted him a wide berth from the other individuals in the Dojo as well as few impressed onlookers. The onlookers talked quietly together in the corner, occasionally looking up in response to a vicious punch or kick that rocked the practice dummy so hard that it squealed as the bolts holding the dummy in place strained to keep it there. A loud crack echoed in the Dojo as one of the bolts snapped. Heads turned in his direction, more then a few displaying looks of concern, others with awe, and from the group who had been watching, satisfaction.
Sean lowered his hands and stood staring at the practice dummy for a few moments, a look of distaste on his face. The image of his old Lieutenant’s face faded to be replaced with the dummy’s generic blue foam one. He grabbed the towel and water bottle from the shelf near where he had been working out and wiped the sweat away before taking a long drink.
Turning away from the practice dummy area Sean walked over to his bag. He reached inside and carefully removed his Sun and Earth Hammers from within it. More then a few people looked at the weapon with interest. Those few who recognized it for what it was, including the group in the corner, just waited.
Sean walked to a large clear space designated in the Dojo for weapon’s training and placed his towel and water bottle down on the outside of a marked circle on the padded floor. Rolling his shoulders and neck, he walked into the center of the circle and spent a few minutes warming up the rest of his muscles in preparation. Raising the Hammer to a starting position, he began to move.
He started with the simple maneuvers, spinning the hammers around his body as he warmed up. Suddenly he snapped the smaller hammer out at an imagined opponent in a strike that would have crushed bone. Deftly he pulled back on the chain and brought the hammer head back into a spinning motion that rotated it around his torso and back under control. As the complexity of his strikes, blocks, and feints increased Sean found himself once again remembering….
**************
Six months. His wife and son had been laid to rest side by side six months ago. Their horrible deaths had twisted their remaining features into unrecognizable masses of charred flesh and bone. The news had called their death a tragic and avoidable accident. The little boy must have been playing with the leaver that turned on the gas fireplace, the igniter had failed, and Sarah had failed to detect the scent of Gas due to a sinus infection. His wife and son had gone to sleep never knowing that when they closed their eyes they would never awaken. Thankfully, the Medical Examiner had said, they died painlessly and before the fire had started. It was a needless death, but at least they hadn’t suffered.
Sean had been placed on compassionate leave and while he still came into the precinct, he was considered off -duty. Before the deaths of his family, he had been working on a case involving a small crime boss named Jesse Fortuna. Fortuna had claimed that he had “big time connections” and that anyone who screwed with him would pay. Sean hadn’t given the matter any serious consideration the day he arrested Fortuna on drug trafficking charges. Fortuna was small time, more of an under-boss then anything else but when he had been placed in the holding cell, Sean thought that the criminal had made eye-contact with him and mouthed the words “You’re Doomed.”
He had mentioned it in his report to Lieutenant Samivoch but the Lieutenant had blown it off as unlikely but had still sent a few Uniforms to watch his home while he was at work. Then news came that Fortuna had been strangled by his cell mate for stealing his cigarettes. The Uniforms were re-assigned to other duties and Sean and Sarah had breathed a sigh of relief. They should have been holding their breath.
A week after Fortuna’s death, Sarah and Nicholas were dead. The investigation was thorough but brief, and Sean was being forced to speak with the Psychologist that worked with the Police Force. He blamed himself, the fact that their deaths had been listed as Accidental changed nothing in his mind. Doomed... he had thought that Fortuna had meant that he was a dead man. Now every fiber in his being told him that he was wrong. His doom wasn't to die, oh no, that would be too easy. Fortuna's doom meant more then that. It meant losing the two things that meant more to him then his life...
As the Sun and Earth hammers whistled through the air, tears streamed down Sean's face mixing with the beads of sweat already there. Had he not been lost to his memories, he would have noticed the small group of men in the corner share a long look between them. As it was, lost to his grief, pain, and hopelessness Sean didn't notice his own tears.
**************
“You're good.” The younger of the two men with sandy hair had left the group in the corner and had approached Sean as he wiped his face on his towel.
Sean raised an eyebrow. “Didn't realize I had an audience.” He said as he hung the towel around his neck and paused to take a drink.
“Well... there are few people talented enough to use those hammers, let alone be as good as you seem to be.” Sean grunted in response. “Look, there's a club. A very exclusive club.” The young man's voice was strangely intent, almost passionate. “A place where people like you can make a lot of money.”
“Not interested. Thanks.”
The young man shrugged and held out a business card. “Take it. Think about it. Every Tuesday, that address. Show the door man the card, tell them Atrius invited you.”
Sean stared at the card for a moment before taking it. “No promises.”
“Be seeing you Sean.” The young man said confidently and walked away without waiting for a response.
The weekend passed, as had Monday, the business card sat where Sean had left it on his nightstand when he returned from the Dojo. He hadn't given the card, the club, or Atrius a second thought as he had gone about his business. As the sun rose on Tuesday, Sean looked down at the card as he climbed out of bed. He shook his head to clear it of the left over fog of sleep, showered, and got dressed but as he put on the Claddagh ring that Sarah had given him as a Groom gift on their wedding day the card caught his eye. The dragon stirred.
“What the hell.” Sean said as picked up the card, through on his Jacket and messenger bag, and walked out the door into the sunlight.
**************
“Good to see you Sean!” The young man said as he met Sean on the steel mesh platform suspended from the ceiling the recessed floor area filled with sand. “We were hoping that you would come. Did you have any trouble finding the address?”
“A little, it's not as if you have a sign out front you know.”
Atrius smiled. “No, that would make business difficult. Come, let me show you around.” Sean and Atrius walked down a set of stairs to another platform and over to a long bar staffed by attractive young men and women wearing little more then a shred of fabric and a smile. “We service an elite crowd, Sean, Men and women who enjoy excess in all things, even conflict.” He handed Sean a Red Bull and Vodka before taking his own drink. “They come to watch, to bet, some even come to participate.” Atrius leaned against the bar. “Some of our clientèle become patrons or even lovers of our … employees.”
Sean took a drink and looked down at the sanded area. “What like mixed martial arts?”
“There's some of that, but the real money comes from the Pit Fighting. No holds barred contests between warriors bearing melee weapons of all kinds of varieties and styles.” The excitement in Atrius' voice was unmistakable.
Sean managed to keep the distaste and more importantly, the interest, out of his voice. “Gladiatorial combat.”
Atrius smiled softly. “Of a kind, yes. There are no beasts, unless you count the men themselves. Each fighter is rated on a Tier and in order to reach the next Tier a warrior has to defeat someone from the team above. You can't challenge below your own Tier but you can always challenge above it.” Atrius took another sip from his drink. “The warriors are paid a flat rate plus a bonus if they beat their opponent. Challengers get less of a bonus then the challenged, that way it's in the challenged best interest to beat the challenger. There are other benefits, but those come in the way of gifts from our patrons.” Atrius winked. “If you're good enough to catch attention that is.”
“Has anyone died?”
Atrius' face was a study in compassion. “Sadly, yes, but there have been few of them. The club employs some of the best private doctors in the state and there's a trauma room of such quality in the building it would make a HMO jealous.” He finished his drink and put it on the bar. “So?”
“I'm not interested.” Sean said flatly.
“You're lying, I can see it in your eyes.” Atrius said pleasantly. “That's okay. More then a few warriors come here and say the same thing. Some join, others leave. The only thing we ask is that you don't mention this to anyone else.” His voice had turned cold and deadly but then warmed again as he continued. “Stay as my guest Sean. Watch a few contests and see for yourself. I think you could work magic here.”
“Sure.” he said it without heat.
**************
The roar of the crowd was everything he remembered, sweeping him up like a wave and carrying him up over the battle. Surrounded by men and women in expensive clothes who bought them drinks and made conversation with him in between the matches. People that treated him like someone important, someone worth while. Like a gentle wave lapping at his limbs on a sun kissed shore, their attentions lured the dragon out into the water where the roaring waves picked him up and brought him playfully back to shore only to lure him out again. By the end of the night, Sean found himself standing at Atrius' side again, the young woman who had attached herself to him and kept him company through out the evening regretfully leaving his side.
“I'm in.” Sean said quietly, the roar still in his mind.
“Good. Come in Tuesday, bring your weapons. We'll provide whatever style of armour you prefer but the weapons are your responsibility.” Atrius finished his cigar and handed Sean a wad of bills. “Your first bonus.” As Sean looked at the small roll of bills as Atrius walked towards the stairs. “Make magic for me Sean.”
The dragon in Sean's veins smiled and uncoiled and stretched it's limbs, tasting the scent of battle and of blood in Sean's nostrils. This wasn't the place of it's birth, but it would do...
**************
Three weeks later, Sean walked into Ned's office, a slight smile on his face and new designer cloths on his back. “New job?” Ned asked after staring for a moment.
“Yup. Good one too. Good pay, good benefits.” Sean smiled and took a seat across from Stevie, stretching out somewhat languidly as he did so.
“Hope you'll still be up for working at the club Sean, when we open it that is.”
“Sure.” Sean said without heat. He wasn't sure that he cared anymore. The dragon in his veins smiled and so did Sean.
“Good.” Ned looked down at the pile of papers on his desk, his tail twitching. He looked at the rest of the motley and started talking but Sean soon stopped paying attention. He had made the Second Tier last night and the celebrations afterwards had left him heady and satisfied. As he stretched again, Sean failed to notice the spotted line of dark red that had begun to reveal itself across the white t-shirt he was wearing.
.
Beads of sweat slowly ran down his scarred and glyph tattooed torso as he knelt in a resting position in the center of his apartment trying to control his breathing, Sun and Earth Hammers laying at his side. His chest heaved in and out as he fought to control his breath and slow his rapidly pounding heart. As of late, he had increased the intensity of his training sessions, pushing himself to the physical limits of his body in an effort to forget. Two days without sleep, pausing only to drink and occasionally eat. Where drugs and alcohol had failed, perhaps physical exertion would succeed.
The shadows in the room slowly began to grow as the sun went down outside. As they grew larger more and more of the Fairest’s physique slipped into the darkness until there was nothing visible, not even a figure in the shifting darkness.
A rattle of chain and the sound of something heavy being dragged slowly against the hardwood floor was the only sign of movement until the slow whistling rattle of chain in motion filled the room. For fifteen minutes, it was the only sound in the gloom. Then a ragged sounding breathing floated out of the shadows to accompany the whistling rattle.
Forty-Five minutes later, the sound of the chain slowed and faded as the ragged breathing increased. His body reaching the point of exhaustion, Sean slowly crumpled to the ground breathing hard. He reaching for the water bottle, knocking it over, and as the water spilled out of the top his vision went black.
**************
The Dragon within roared as it tasted blood in his mouth. His ears rang with the sounds of steel against steel and steel against flesh. The burning sand seemed to melt into his skin and scorch his open wounds, as he lay prone and face first in it. In agony he lifted his head and stared upwards at the covered awning and the figures seated beneath it, they’re features obscured by the blazing sun behind it. The rolling sound of voices in pain, victory, and blood lust rose to a roar as a shadow fell across his face. His eyes focused on the figure now standing before him, framed by the light of the sun, before resting on the blade in the figure’s hand. A frustrated snarl escaped his lips, the blood and sweat stained sand tasting bitter with defeat on his lips as he watched the blade descend and felt it’s edge bite deep.
The shock of the intensity of the vision and the cold water reaching his face woke Sean abruptly. As he lay there, his body shaking, the man who once was Sean Hayes closed his eyes tightly and whispered, “Why?” A violent rage, the dragon's rage, settled across his mind like an ocean-bred storm, dark, towering, and unrelenting. Savagely he repressed the need to rend and tear. When the shaking subsided, Sean stood and walked towards the small rolled glass windows of the apartment. Crossing his arms, Sean watched the street below as he gathered the shadows in the room around him almost as an after thought.
“This can’t continue...” Suddenly, he lashed out, shattering the quiet and the remnants of a life that he didn't want and never really would be his. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, he gave in to the dragon in his veins for the first time since crossing the Hedge. Lightning flashed, the wind howled, and outside a spring rain began to wash away the grime and snow as a bestial roar echoed down into the alleyway.
**************
The sun shone brightly through the tattered remains of dark cloud from the storm the night before. Sitting in one of New York’s many smaller parks and eating a hot dog, Sean watched the people. He watched the people walking, playing chess, laughing, talking, loving, and living. He watched the children running and screaming with joy, feeling the change of the seasons more acutely then the adults around them. He smiled as watched a young man and woman walk past him on his bench with his hot dog and Fanta holding hands.
“He would have been about his age.” Sean said to himself as the couple continued down the sidewalk, laughing as some of the playing children ran between them momentarily separating them. Almost without thinking about it, the young couple reached out for one another before looking into each other’s eyes and sharing a passionate, though brief kiss.
“His age….” His voice echoed in his own mind. Unbidden, the memory came to him. He had gotten home late; the lights in the small brick house he had worked so hard for, were out. Sarah would have put Nicholas to bed hours ago, and having long ago become used to the rotation that saw Sean occasionally pulling graveyard shifts at the precinct. She was likely also asleep in their bed, dreaming of the day when Sean would be promoted.
He was tired, but tomorrow was the beginning of a three-day break from work and his first real time off in months. Sean smiled as he walked up the three steps to his front door and put his key in the lock. A small shock jolted through the key and up into his arm a split second before the force of the explosion threw him across the street and into the side of the van parked there. Sean forced himself to his feet and half ran, half fell his way back towards the inferno that raged consumed the little brick house.
Alex, his firefighter neighbor that lived two doors down ran out of his house at the sound of the explosion and saw Sean struggling to make it to the door. Experience told him without a glance that Sean’s wife and son were already dead. Alex intercepted Sean and held him as tight as he could as Sean raged and cried, screaming out for his family. Tears falling down his face, Alex fought to save the only life he could.
Coming back to himself, Sean watched the young man and his girlfriend continue to walk away, his hot dog forgotten. The dragon awoke and tasted grief and hate as the words of the fire investigator and his Lieutenant echoed in Sean's ears. “It was an accident Officer Hayes....”
**************
Sean pummeled his opponent with barely contained force. The practice dummy rocked and shuddered beneath the punishment Sean unleashed. His intensity had both granted him a wide berth from the other individuals in the Dojo as well as few impressed onlookers. The onlookers talked quietly together in the corner, occasionally looking up in response to a vicious punch or kick that rocked the practice dummy so hard that it squealed as the bolts holding the dummy in place strained to keep it there. A loud crack echoed in the Dojo as one of the bolts snapped. Heads turned in his direction, more then a few displaying looks of concern, others with awe, and from the group who had been watching, satisfaction.
Sean lowered his hands and stood staring at the practice dummy for a few moments, a look of distaste on his face. The image of his old Lieutenant’s face faded to be replaced with the dummy’s generic blue foam one. He grabbed the towel and water bottle from the shelf near where he had been working out and wiped the sweat away before taking a long drink.
Turning away from the practice dummy area Sean walked over to his bag. He reached inside and carefully removed his Sun and Earth Hammers from within it. More then a few people looked at the weapon with interest. Those few who recognized it for what it was, including the group in the corner, just waited.
Sean walked to a large clear space designated in the Dojo for weapon’s training and placed his towel and water bottle down on the outside of a marked circle on the padded floor. Rolling his shoulders and neck, he walked into the center of the circle and spent a few minutes warming up the rest of his muscles in preparation. Raising the Hammer to a starting position, he began to move.
He started with the simple maneuvers, spinning the hammers around his body as he warmed up. Suddenly he snapped the smaller hammer out at an imagined opponent in a strike that would have crushed bone. Deftly he pulled back on the chain and brought the hammer head back into a spinning motion that rotated it around his torso and back under control. As the complexity of his strikes, blocks, and feints increased Sean found himself once again remembering….
**************
Six months. His wife and son had been laid to rest side by side six months ago. Their horrible deaths had twisted their remaining features into unrecognizable masses of charred flesh and bone. The news had called their death a tragic and avoidable accident. The little boy must have been playing with the leaver that turned on the gas fireplace, the igniter had failed, and Sarah had failed to detect the scent of Gas due to a sinus infection. His wife and son had gone to sleep never knowing that when they closed their eyes they would never awaken. Thankfully, the Medical Examiner had said, they died painlessly and before the fire had started. It was a needless death, but at least they hadn’t suffered.
Sean had been placed on compassionate leave and while he still came into the precinct, he was considered off -duty. Before the deaths of his family, he had been working on a case involving a small crime boss named Jesse Fortuna. Fortuna had claimed that he had “big time connections” and that anyone who screwed with him would pay. Sean hadn’t given the matter any serious consideration the day he arrested Fortuna on drug trafficking charges. Fortuna was small time, more of an under-boss then anything else but when he had been placed in the holding cell, Sean thought that the criminal had made eye-contact with him and mouthed the words “You’re Doomed.”
He had mentioned it in his report to Lieutenant Samivoch but the Lieutenant had blown it off as unlikely but had still sent a few Uniforms to watch his home while he was at work. Then news came that Fortuna had been strangled by his cell mate for stealing his cigarettes. The Uniforms were re-assigned to other duties and Sean and Sarah had breathed a sigh of relief. They should have been holding their breath.
A week after Fortuna’s death, Sarah and Nicholas were dead. The investigation was thorough but brief, and Sean was being forced to speak with the Psychologist that worked with the Police Force. He blamed himself, the fact that their deaths had been listed as Accidental changed nothing in his mind. Doomed... he had thought that Fortuna had meant that he was a dead man. Now every fiber in his being told him that he was wrong. His doom wasn't to die, oh no, that would be too easy. Fortuna's doom meant more then that. It meant losing the two things that meant more to him then his life...
As the Sun and Earth hammers whistled through the air, tears streamed down Sean's face mixing with the beads of sweat already there. Had he not been lost to his memories, he would have noticed the small group of men in the corner share a long look between them. As it was, lost to his grief, pain, and hopelessness Sean didn't notice his own tears.
**************
“You're good.” The younger of the two men with sandy hair had left the group in the corner and had approached Sean as he wiped his face on his towel.
Sean raised an eyebrow. “Didn't realize I had an audience.” He said as he hung the towel around his neck and paused to take a drink.
“Well... there are few people talented enough to use those hammers, let alone be as good as you seem to be.” Sean grunted in response. “Look, there's a club. A very exclusive club.” The young man's voice was strangely intent, almost passionate. “A place where people like you can make a lot of money.”
“Not interested. Thanks.”
The young man shrugged and held out a business card. “Take it. Think about it. Every Tuesday, that address. Show the door man the card, tell them Atrius invited you.”
Sean stared at the card for a moment before taking it. “No promises.”
“Be seeing you Sean.” The young man said confidently and walked away without waiting for a response.
The weekend passed, as had Monday, the business card sat where Sean had left it on his nightstand when he returned from the Dojo. He hadn't given the card, the club, or Atrius a second thought as he had gone about his business. As the sun rose on Tuesday, Sean looked down at the card as he climbed out of bed. He shook his head to clear it of the left over fog of sleep, showered, and got dressed but as he put on the Claddagh ring that Sarah had given him as a Groom gift on their wedding day the card caught his eye. The dragon stirred.
“What the hell.” Sean said as picked up the card, through on his Jacket and messenger bag, and walked out the door into the sunlight.
**************
“Good to see you Sean!” The young man said as he met Sean on the steel mesh platform suspended from the ceiling the recessed floor area filled with sand. “We were hoping that you would come. Did you have any trouble finding the address?”
“A little, it's not as if you have a sign out front you know.”
Atrius smiled. “No, that would make business difficult. Come, let me show you around.” Sean and Atrius walked down a set of stairs to another platform and over to a long bar staffed by attractive young men and women wearing little more then a shred of fabric and a smile. “We service an elite crowd, Sean, Men and women who enjoy excess in all things, even conflict.” He handed Sean a Red Bull and Vodka before taking his own drink. “They come to watch, to bet, some even come to participate.” Atrius leaned against the bar. “Some of our clientèle become patrons or even lovers of our … employees.”
Sean took a drink and looked down at the sanded area. “What like mixed martial arts?”
“There's some of that, but the real money comes from the Pit Fighting. No holds barred contests between warriors bearing melee weapons of all kinds of varieties and styles.” The excitement in Atrius' voice was unmistakable.
Sean managed to keep the distaste and more importantly, the interest, out of his voice. “Gladiatorial combat.”
Atrius smiled softly. “Of a kind, yes. There are no beasts, unless you count the men themselves. Each fighter is rated on a Tier and in order to reach the next Tier a warrior has to defeat someone from the team above. You can't challenge below your own Tier but you can always challenge above it.” Atrius took another sip from his drink. “The warriors are paid a flat rate plus a bonus if they beat their opponent. Challengers get less of a bonus then the challenged, that way it's in the challenged best interest to beat the challenger. There are other benefits, but those come in the way of gifts from our patrons.” Atrius winked. “If you're good enough to catch attention that is.”
“Has anyone died?”
Atrius' face was a study in compassion. “Sadly, yes, but there have been few of them. The club employs some of the best private doctors in the state and there's a trauma room of such quality in the building it would make a HMO jealous.” He finished his drink and put it on the bar. “So?”
“I'm not interested.” Sean said flatly.
“You're lying, I can see it in your eyes.” Atrius said pleasantly. “That's okay. More then a few warriors come here and say the same thing. Some join, others leave. The only thing we ask is that you don't mention this to anyone else.” His voice had turned cold and deadly but then warmed again as he continued. “Stay as my guest Sean. Watch a few contests and see for yourself. I think you could work magic here.”
“Sure.” he said it without heat.
**************
The roar of the crowd was everything he remembered, sweeping him up like a wave and carrying him up over the battle. Surrounded by men and women in expensive clothes who bought them drinks and made conversation with him in between the matches. People that treated him like someone important, someone worth while. Like a gentle wave lapping at his limbs on a sun kissed shore, their attentions lured the dragon out into the water where the roaring waves picked him up and brought him playfully back to shore only to lure him out again. By the end of the night, Sean found himself standing at Atrius' side again, the young woman who had attached herself to him and kept him company through out the evening regretfully leaving his side.
“I'm in.” Sean said quietly, the roar still in his mind.
“Good. Come in Tuesday, bring your weapons. We'll provide whatever style of armour you prefer but the weapons are your responsibility.” Atrius finished his cigar and handed Sean a wad of bills. “Your first bonus.” As Sean looked at the small roll of bills as Atrius walked towards the stairs. “Make magic for me Sean.”
The dragon in Sean's veins smiled and uncoiled and stretched it's limbs, tasting the scent of battle and of blood in Sean's nostrils. This wasn't the place of it's birth, but it would do...
**************
Three weeks later, Sean walked into Ned's office, a slight smile on his face and new designer cloths on his back. “New job?” Ned asked after staring for a moment.
“Yup. Good one too. Good pay, good benefits.” Sean smiled and took a seat across from Stevie, stretching out somewhat languidly as he did so.
“Hope you'll still be up for working at the club Sean, when we open it that is.”
“Sure.” Sean said without heat. He wasn't sure that he cared anymore. The dragon in his veins smiled and so did Sean.
“Good.” Ned looked down at the pile of papers on his desk, his tail twitching. He looked at the rest of the motley and started talking but Sean soon stopped paying attention. He had made the Second Tier last night and the celebrations afterwards had left him heady and satisfied. As he stretched again, Sean failed to notice the spotted line of dark red that had begun to reveal itself across the white t-shirt he was wearing.
.