Wolfpack 2: A Post-Apocalyptic GameLIT/Cultivation Novel Page 2

  “Yeah, things have been—hectic,” Ajax replied, absently.

  “Isn’t it always? Anyway, it’s good to see those beauties again,” Mike said and nodded to my blades.

  I smiled and nodded, liking him almost instantly. He had a way about him that made me feel welcome and safe, despite the fact that we’d just met.

  “Sorry, Mike, this is Takemi. Tak, this is Mike.”

  I offered the stout man my hand and he grasped me, wrapping his thick fingers around my wrist. I copied the gesture but couldn’t match the man’s considerable strength.

  I looked down at the greeting, then with a cocked eyebrow turned to Ajax.

  “Has your man never shaken a hand before?” Mike asked.

  “Ahh!” Ajax gasped. “No. Takemi took a hammer to the skull during our last battle. It almost caved his head in. As a result, he has struggles to remember much of anything.”

  I noticed that he didn’t bring up that I wasn’t from Europe originally, but realized it was probably for a reason. Mike nodded, but the color drained from his face.

  “I heard about a massacre, but I didn’t realize it was your group!”

  I let go of the big man’s wrist and looked down at my arm, then splayed my fingers. “I woke up during the battle in a tent. My arm was shattered, my skull fractured, and I had no clue who I was. A little came back, but not all of it.”

  I looked away, a little embarrassed that I didn’t remember him, but thankfully the discomfort passed quickly.

  “It looks like you’ve recovered,” Mike observed.

  Recounting the experience made me realize how lucky I’d been. I had survived something not many would, so who was I to squander this opportunity?

  “Hell, Takemi’s more dangerous now than he was before. Maybe that crushed skull unlocked some hidden potential!” Ajax said with a hearty laugh, then slapped my right shoulder. “He’s terrifying, I tell you.”

  Mike nodded thoughtfully, smiled, then held his hand out again.

  “So, let’s do this again, since we’re meeting for the first time, again. Greetings, Takemi, I am Mike!”

  * * * * *

  I argued with Ajax after we left Mike’s workshop, as he insisted on taking me to riverside. To my credit, I stayed strong for a few minutes, until my back tweaked, and I relented.

  Luckily, riverside turned out to not be the seedy, redlight district I had feared. In reality, it was a beautiful row of buildings lining the stone riverwalk.

  We entered the third building down, where a bright-eyed older woman greeted us, then led us back to a well-lit sunroom in the back. Following her instructions, I disrobed and crawled onto the table. A young woman entered a few moments later, and without word, started my massage.

  “I’ve got knots in muscles I didn’t know I had,” I whispered as the young lady worked deeper and harder.

  Knot by knot, my masseuse worked her way down my body. Pleasure mixed with pain, but they eventually blended into a euphoric trance that I’d never thought possible. It was beyond relaxation.

  I thought Ajax was joking when he offered to pay for a massage, or worse, he was trying to trick me into joining him in some racy brothel. It turned out he hadn’t been lying—about it being a fit, and the best massage I would ever receive.

  “Told you,” Ajax chuckled, after snorting himself awake. He’d fallen asleep not three minutes into his own massage.

  The room was old but nicely appointed. Small, spindly tables held boxes of radiant crystals, while chests of drawers covered the back wall, their open shelves practically bursting with jars of medicinal ingredients.

  Ajax grunted and sighed as his masseuse manhandled him. She leaned in, putting her weight into one elbow, and worked to release his bound muscles.

  Whereas the girl working on me was young, Ajax’s masseuse was in her late fifties and sizable in her own right. Her ash-colored hair was pulled into a conservative ponytail, and she wore red silk, the fabric embroidered with a large golden dragon curving all the way around and down her legs.

  They used delightful, scented oils, before placing warmed healing stones on our backs. They were hot, just shy of being painful, but worked magically to release the rest of my tension.

  I noticed there was more to the two than him just being a customer. He’d either come here often and was familiar with the parlor, or he knew the lady in private. I didn’t know which of the two amused me more, though. Especially when he jokingly asked the receptionist to bring on the pain. It had made the woman blush and giggle as Ajax lifted his eyebrows at her suggestively.

  “What next?” I asked, as my girl finally removed the hot rocks from my back. She’d wiped the excess oil away and excused herself. “We’re not exactly flush with cash right now.”

  He waved me off, as the older woman moved her more violent attention to his legs.

  “Talk later…let me…enjoy this,” he grunted and winced. “I could do for a little longer…without your voice.”

  I rewarded his snarky comment with an almost five-minute-long rambling session of nonsense. Besides, I didn’t understand how he could enjoy the violent, almost physical assault he was enduring.

  When Ajax turned away from me and started snoring again, I took the hint and returned to my thoughts. No sooner had I closed my eyes than Ivory stirred in the back of my mind.

  “Enjoying yourself, hairless ape,” he hissed. “Why are you wasting time like this? You should be growing stronger, or hunting, building your skills to survive what’s coming.”

  “This is not the time, Ivory,” I replied. “Besides, all you seem to do is bitch and complain.”

  “Then release me from this accursed pedestal so I might do more! I can’t even feel my legs anymore! This is animal cruelty, I tell you! Barbarism!”

  I shook my head and very nearly responded out loud. How weird would that look? In truth, very.

  “I didn’t know a wolf soul could even feel pain. Did your legs fall asleep? Are they all tingly?”

  “Ugh. It is very uncomfortable.”

  I considered that if I gave him a little more freedom, he might be more inclined to help if the need arose. Then again, I also had to consider that he might try to harm me in some way. I would have to be cautious.

  “We’ll talk about it next time I visit the mind palace. But for now, can you let me relax?”

  “…take care of him, alright?” Ajax said.

  I missed the first part of their conversation but took interest at once.

  “He’s been through a lot—got his ass kicked and had his head caved in. I’m just trying to help a…struggling friend.”

  “Of course,” the woman replied, her voice far softer and sweeter than I expected. “He seemed to like Miko. She is very good with her hands.”

  I pretended to be asleep then, grunting quietly. I heard the woman tsk and Ajax chuckled.

  “Okay, next time. But for me…?”

  Two

  The Arena

  Pretending to be asleep only thrust me from one uncomfortable situation into another.

  I heard Ajax’s masseuse whisper and my big counterpart giggle, the noise disturbingly out of place for such a fearsome warrior. Then I heard the stopper pull free from a bottle of oil, heard his towel pulled away, and unfortunately, I couldn’t block out what happened next.

  I pretended to startle awake when they nudged me some time later, after far more oily slapping and grunting than I was prepared to endure. But I kept it to myself. After all, the big man had gone far too long without a little affection.

  It was dark outside by the time we exited the parlor, the streets lit by flickering lanterns. The sides streets were lit mostly with candles and oil-filled braziers, but on the busier thoroughfares glowing crystals were set in tall holders. There were more pedestrians out and about than I’d anticipated, too. Then again, as Ajax reminded me, Zurich was a city of pleasure. And those distractions were easiest found at night.

  He navigated me through the st
reets, weaving through more crowds than I could ever remembering seeing in one place.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked for the third time, after failing to rub the sleep from my eyes. It was true, I hadn’t really fallen asleep—to my detriment, but the relaxing atmosphere had done a number on me. The scented candles and incense mixed with the scented oils and the massage put me in a hyper state of relaxation.

  “I remember a certain someone who used to gamble every now and then,” Ajax said, throwing me a sidelong glance.

  “Gambling? What kind of gambling? Horse races? Because I don’t really like cards.”

  “Horse races!” the big man bellowed and tipped sideways. “You are such an American. No, there haven’t been horse races since the collapse.”

  “I’m drawing a blank here,” I said.

  “Blood sports!”

  “Really?”

  He noted my response, because…well, he’d always been able to read me like an open book. The fights I’d been in lately were so violent and vicious that I couldn’t imagine why anyone would volunteer for anything remotely similar.

  “Are there…many people who want to fight?”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking, Takemi. Yes, some contestants are weapon experts, but most are pugilists, scrappers, or martial artists. The fights are usually no-holds-barred and full-on brawls, so with that said deaths can occur, but are not the point. They are not death matches.”

  I quickened my pace to keep up, as if longer strides and obvious excitement carried him forward. I struggled to wrap my head around what he’d just said. How did they structure fights so they were even remotely fair? Not every martial art was made the same, just like weapons, with reach, style, composition, and design.

  Put me in a ring with a boxer or a scrapper and allow me to use my blades, and I would carve them up. There would be no contest. On the other hand, put me in that same ring and take away my blades, and I likely couldn’t compete as well.

  “It’s a martial arts contest, not a death match,” Ajax said, as if able to hear my silent musing. “Occasionally the contestants will be real warriors, although they are not allowed to use their weapons in the ring. Other than that, the rules are loose. Break noses, legs, arms, whatever…as long as you aren’t killing on purpose.”

  Somehow, I had a feeling that he wasn’t just telling me about the arena, and that before the night was through, I would find myself in a fight.

  “As long as there are no war hammers smashing guys in the head, I’m game,” I muttered to myself. “Have you ever fought?”

  Ajax shook his head as he walked me through the crowds, then the big man abruptly turned down what looked like a mostly deserted alley. A single door sat at the far end, with a light glowing overhead, highlighting two heavily armed men.

  We approached the guards, who seemed to be actively ignoring us. I hovered just behind my large friend and sized them up—big, muscular men, with calloused knuckles, and hard eyes. They weren’t just fighters. They were killers.

  “Two tickets,” Ajax said, handing the one on the left some money. The man grunted something, counted the cash, and stepped aside. I watched quietly, taking everything in.

  “Are you knowing the rules?” His English was poor, and his German accent thick. He accentuated the first syllable of each word, as if punching it with his tongue.

  “We do,” Ajax replied simply. “We won’t cause any problems.”

  “Good. Enjoy evening.”

  The steel door behind the man slid open then, swinging just enough to let us pass. It closed behind us, the noise echoing loudly in the dark space.

  A short passage lay ahead, dropping into a gloomy stairwell. Ajax led, winding down the circular descent deeper into the underground. I focused in on the big man’s shoulders, but the repetitious nature of the winding stair hit my head and stomach. After just a few moments, I was nauseous.

  We went down and down, the air growing cooler and dark, until the rust-streaked concrete gave way to painted, white walls. Ajax stepped off at the bottom into a small passage, the air tinged with a thick layer of haze. It hung at eye level, forming halos around the caged industrial lights.

  We emerged from the tunnel into a massive basement space, with rows of chain-link fence barricading a recessed arena ahead. The ceiling rose high above, the white concrete walls featuring alcoves and balconies providing unobscured views of the arena below. The space was packed with people, lining the fences. Some women sat on men’s shoulders, while figures as small as children had climbed the chain link, clinging high above the ground for a better view.

  The Arena itself was set into a deep crevice. Rows of tables were spread around on platforms extending outwards, so the entire floor looked like an inverted pyramid.

  People in the crowd muttered angrily as we passed, moving onto a metal stair to descend toward the arena. Three tiers of fences appeared, but it wasn’t until we were on the second level that I fully saw the arena floor. Two combatants were already fighting.

  We stopped at an empty table in the second row and settled into seats. It was a good spot, allowing for a clear view of the pit. The two men fighting could not have presented a starker contrast. One wore a white martial arts Gi, the heavy fabric spattered with blood, while his opponent wore just a pair of khaki pants. Several footprints marred his bare chest, while a dark bruise covered his ribs.

  Ajax watched for a moment as the two fighters circled, exchanged a few halfhearted blows, and circled again. My big counterpart snorted, clearly unimpressed by the performance. I turned back and watched. Yes, the fighters looked tired, but it also appeared that they had been beating the shit out of one another for some time. Why did he find them lacking?

  The answer came soon enough as the two fighters clashed. The man in white kicked out, connecting solidly with his opponent’s side. The man in khakis reeled under the blow but came back in with a desperate counter-attack. His left hand hit the martial artist in the shoulder, while his follow-ups connected with his chest, and face.

  It was a blur of movements that seemed impressive at face value, but to my trained eye, it was all speed and no power.

  The crowd cheered from the assault, but they didn’t understand what was really happening. It was more of a show than a real fight. If it had been Ajax or I in there in place of either fighter, the bout would already be over.

  Another thought came to mind as we watched. Were they just ordinary men? Or cultivators? If so, they were working hard to look as weak and slow as possible.

  “Why are these guys in the ring? I thought you said this place would be more brutal,” I asked, speaking up to be heard over the crowd.

  “They’re probably just a warm-up bout. What’s with the lack of patience? Got somewhere to be?”

  People muttered and laughed around us, and a sideways glance confirmed that it was directed at me. Had I said something funny or offensive? Perhaps spoken too loudly? But it became clear that it wasn’t just my words, but rather how we looked.

  “Fucking dirty bastards!” a man to our right slurred, his accent and drunkenness making him hard to understand. “Wearing animal skins…like some kind of…kind of…animal! I wonder who they robbed to get the entrance fee?”

  Ajax tensed and his eyes met mine before we turned as one to the offending table. Three men sat there, with two of the occupants wearing rich clothing with gem-studded rings and necklaces, the jewels gleaming in the dim light. The third and final man was different. I could sense a great deal of power and danger emanating from him. Weapons. He was certainly carrying weapons.

  Ajax met their disdainful gazes with a smirk, then shook his head and turned away. The two nobles turned to one another, obviously enraged from his dismissal. The men shifted, their seats groaning, and looked right at me.

  Not wanting to cause too much trouble, I did the only thing I could, and tried to diffuse the situation.

  “Sorry lads, I’m not into men,” I said, loud enough to carry
to the tables around us. “You might try the dark alleys outside. Maybe you can find someone to keep you company there.”

  Chairs scraped against the floor as people either stood or turned our way. I seemed to have gotten a lot more interest than intended, as the crowd trained their attention on us, not the fight. The ball was in their court now and everyone waited to see how they would respond.

  Red-faced and embarrassed, the noble in the middle rose to his feet. He shoved his chair, knocking it over, then kicked it out of the way for emphasis.

  “What did you say, barbarian filth! What did you just say?”

  Oh boy, he was angry. And not just mad, but the irrational, “I’m about to make bad decisions” variety. His face turned a dark shade of red and his angry voice, which had formerly been reasonably deep, rose several octaves. He squeaked when he tried to talk.

  Ajax rolled his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself, then kicked me under the table.

  “Ahh, excuse me, kind lady. I thought I was arguing with a man,” I replied casually, and turned back toward the arena. I turned back after a moment’s pause, gave the man a quick once over, and snorted. “But still, you really aren’t my type!”

  The crowd around us burst into laughter. The noble stood there, his feet firmly planted to the ground. I not only suggested that he was propositioning me, but then I openly called him a woman—and an ugly one at that.

  A vein throbbed on his temple and his eyes bulged with anger. He fell so completely into rage that I didn’t know how to respond. And truthfully, I don’t think he did either.

  “How—how dare you!” he spluttered, after finally finding his voice. “Do you know who I am? W-W-Who you just insulted? I could…I should…if you wish to die, there are much easier ways to go about it. You should show respect to your betters!”

  The second well-dressed man sitting at that table finally spoke up, although he mumbled so badly, I couldn’t understand what he said.

  “Betters? What would that look like?” I asked, then turned to Ajax. “Can you point one of them out to me…if we see one?”