We enter the final week before the tournament. A rumor has been leaked to the Watchmen that the event will take place in the Sixth Sector. So of course, it will be held in the Second. Flurry says this ruse works every time. I’m nervous about the group category. We’ve never practiced against anyone other than ourselves. I know some of the other barracks organize meets, but since our strategy is unique, I don’t want to give away our element of surprise.
Shard and I sit in companionable silence watching Avalanche cook. “It’s nice to see him enjoying himself. The business with Ursa in the alley shook him bad,” he says softly. I lift my eyebrows. I certainly missed that. I’ve been completely absorbed in my training sessions. Ice has been working harder than all of us since our talk and Blizzard has soared ahead. With the new swords, daggers and spears, we’ve shed most of our rustiness in weapon combat also.
I give Avalanche a quick glance. Why is Shard offering this information on the giant man so casually? I barely know anything about the men in the barracks. Avalanche nods at Shard over my head, who leans forward to pour me a drink.
“His mother was a whore, you know? He loved her. And she was real good to him. Taught him to cook and cared for him as well as she could.” He takes a long sip and I do the same.
Avalanche has given him permission to tell me his story. I was touched he trusted me so much.
“One night he woke to a scream and found his mother dead, a man standing over her. The murderer took Avalanche and kept him tied up. He beat him every few days.”
I gasp. I can’t help it. What a horrible childhood.
“But the man didn’t count on Avalanche growing so tall. When Avalanche turned thirteen, he broke the man’s neck and left. He worked as muscle at the door of The Slime for a while. That’s where I met him.” Shard flashes a grin over his shoulder. “We grew to be friends over the years and then Alzona recruited us when she came around looking for fighters.” He speaks simply and without emotion, like he’s stating facts. I’ve come to assume Avalanche doesn’t like talking because of the way his scars move. But I now wonder if he prefers to have Shard’s emotionless delivery of his story. You can tell his treatment was worse than a beating every few days. The evenly spaced cuts on his face are the work of twisted, cold-blooded scum.
I walk to Avalanche and grip his forearms to pull him down. When his face is level with mine, I say, “That man tried his best. But he didn’t damage you at all. Not where it counts.” I place my hand over his heart and then hug him around the waist. He pats me on the back and holds me for a few moments.
Normal conversation resumes, as though we didn’t just discuss Avalanches horrific treatment by his mother’s killer. I wonder how he and Shard came to be friends. Shard catches my curious look and smiles. There’s a bit of a challenge in his expression. I can guess what he’s telling me; I can’t ask him for his story, without giving up my own.
The night before we leave for the tournament, Alzona enters with a bag. I’m proud of how far she’s come. By accepting help, she has created a stronger business. If anything, her willingness to put aside her pride and study the bigger picture makes her even scarier – if that were possible.
At the moment she’s glaring around the table. Eventually the men stop talking. It’s a game between us to see who is brave enough to talk the longest. Ice is the bravest today, he stops talking after a minute and immediately falters under her blistering gaze.
“I want you to hear me out,” she starts.
“She’s entered as a fighter,” Blizzard guesses.
“She’s taking over matches again,” Ice groans.
“She’s gonna make us fight topless,” Flurry says. We stare at him. He says the weirdest things. But Alzona arches an eyebrow.
“Exactly!” She opens her bag as we stare dumbly. I hope it doesn’t apply to me. “You’ve all seen how the crowd reacts to fighters like Sin. The more skin you show, the more you gain the crowd’s attention.” I laugh as she tosses black leather pants at the men. Flurry holds his up. There’s an ‘A’ stitched on the right hip.
“A for Alzona?” I ask Crystal. She nods, sucking her cheeks in to contain her mirth. I giggle again.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing, you haven’t seen yours yet,” Shard says.
I shut my mouth.
They leave to put their outfits on and my mouth drops open when they return. “Uh, wow, you guys actually look really good in those,” I say. And they do. I tuck away a smile as they preen at my comment. Even Shard grins.
Flurry and Ice are in their early twenties and have youth on their side as an extra advantage, though none are over thirty. All of the men are in excellent shape after the last two months of hard training.
“Yes, very good. Those will do. You admit they look shit-hot?” she asks me. I narrow my eyes at her and remain silent as she draws out the black harness from months ago. “If you wear this, you’ll look just as good as they do. You’re the only female in the competition. You should play on that strength. It’s not cheap. Use it. It’s a weapon.”
I point at the other fighters. “You don’t have them trussed up in straps! There’s nothing to this…thing!” I look at the others for support and am rudely surprised to find them agreeing with Alzona.
“Seriously?” I ask no one in particular.
Shard straddles the bench in front of me. “I think Alzona’s right. You’ve given us every possible advantage you could think of in the last two months. This is just another edge. And it’s a good one. I don’t think you understand how distracting these things can be for males.”
I think of Willow dancing up in her window and of all the men stopping in their tracks.
“I understand,” I say. Alzona’s smile could light up the room. I hurry on. “I’m not saying I’ll wear it, but I will think about what you’ve said.”
I snatch the stupid harness and with a last glare, I escape to my room to figure out how to put the damn thing on.
We trek to the Second Sector the day before the tournament. I’ve come this way twice now. I lead the way for most of the trek. We arrive at Tricks’ barracks and settle into our rooms. I bunk with Crystal and Alzona, despite repeated invitations from Sin. He’s renewed his ardent vows of love and assures me he doesn’t mind my attraction to women. He claims he’ll change my mind. Wrath pushes Sin’s face into a plate of food to shut him up.
Most of Tricks’ men are nice. I’m starting to count a few of them as friends. Although I notice this time, a group of men sit apart from the others. The rest of Tricks’ men don’t seem to like them much. After studying them, I decide they may be better suited to Hale’s group.
It’s of little surprise when I don’t sleep well. I toss and turn for hours, knowing everyone’s performance will reflect on me as their trainer.
There’s no banter at breakfast, but the tension in the air is palpable. The elimination rounds for the one-on-one competition are today. The matches start early and continue until only the top twenty fighters are still standing. The next day this group of twenty is further thinned until the final two remain. This final is only fought after the group competitions are over on the third day. We’d need every skill at our disposal - and a little luck - to win top barracks.
I return to the room and look at the black harness half sticking out of my bag.
Fuck it.
“Crystal!” I call. She pops her head out of the washroom. “Come help me with this thing.” Maybe I’ll give it to Leila after the competition.
Alzona enters after I’ve struggled into the contraption. She whistles. “Wow, Frost. If I wasn’t with Crystal, I would totally do you.”
An uncomfortable laugh leaves my lips. “If I liked women?”
Alzona shrugs. “What were Sin’s words? I can change your mind. I’m just that gorgeous,” she says, doing her best impression of his smile.
“Something like that,” I say, twisting around. “You sure they won’t laugh at me? I feel very conscious of how little I’m wearing.”
“They’ll only laugh at you if they sense you feel self-conscious,” Crystal says. “If you’re gonna wear it, you need to own it.”
I immediately think of Willow and how she walks, the saucy looks she gives all the men. Can I pull that off?
“I guess I’ll test it first.” I take a deep breath and walk out to the mess room. Most of the men are there. They don’t all turn at once like they do with Willow, but conversation grinds to a satisfying halt. Sin continues to pour water into an already full goblet. I walk over to our table, swaying my hips slightly, hoping I don’t look like a complete idiot. I close Wrath’s mouth as I pass. A lot of men, who never gave me more than half a glance in my other clothes, are outright staring. It seems clothing, or lack thereof, does make a big difference here.
“Boys. We must’ve done something right in our lives,” Tricks says.
“Best breakfast I ever had,” Sin whispers.
I ignore everyone and sit down with my barracks.
“Can you move in it?” Shard asks, always practical.
“Surprisingly well, actually.” The leather straps crisscross my breasts, stomach and back and lead into a “v” shaped panel which covers most of my backside and the area between my legs. The back and front panels are laced up the sides with thin leather lengths. I made sure to do these up securely. It isn’t as bad as I feared. The bits I don’t want anyone to see are mostly secure and out of sight.
As it happens, I’m glad I’ve practiced on the men at breakfast. I hold my head high as we trail down through the levels to the Cells. I act as though by letting them look, I’m doing them a favor. Heads turn, but no one touches me. They know me and they know what I can do to them.
“Would ya look at that reaction?” Ice says in my ear with a quiet laugh. I chuckle softly with him. I could get used to these clothes.
The levels are unusually quiet at the moment, with only a few onlookers scattered throughout the levels. Blizzard tells me the crowds tend to come at the end of the day, when the more exciting fights are on. The first draw has already been decided and every owner is given a copy. I scan ours when Alzona hands it to me.
“Is the draw legible this revolution?” Shard asks. “Last time someone from the Outer Rings attempted it, the draw was a disaster,” he says, scanning the bit of paper. “Must have someone from the Middle or Inner Ring this time.”
The details of the round are scribbled along the top. There are one hundred and sixty entrants. I knew what we faced, but it’s still incredible. A hundred and forty fighters would need to be eliminated by the end of the day. We only had six competitors. Six great competitors, I remind myself. But the odds are certainly against us. Blizzard is the only one of us facing a top fighter in the first round. Two months ago he might have lost. But unless something goes horribly wrong, he won’t have any trouble.
These rounds were luck of the draw. Tomorrow would be more complicated. During our last bout in the pits, I memorized the top twenty opponents. I hope these haven’t changed since I last fought. I realize, too late, I should have attended these last matches.
The fighting begins and the pace is more ruthless than what I expected after Flurry’s description. No sooner is the felled man dragged out of the pit, the next round is started. There’s nothing of the relaxed attitude I’ve grown accustomed to. The jingle of coins passed around overhead is constant. As the morning goes on, the crowds begin to cram into the levels above.
Blizzard goes in and sure enough, he knocks Thunder out with a roundhouse minutes into the fight. I look around to gauge the reaction. Tricks’ men look a little shocked, I think. And there is a group further around who are pointing and talking among themselves. I smile and high five Blizzard as he walks over to us.
The first round goes into the early afternoon. Eighty fights take place, some only last seconds, some several minutes. As I’ve predicted from the list, the rest of us move through to the next round without much difficulty. Some of the fighters don’t even land a single blow on us.
There is a slight delay while the last few winners are added to the next draw. Crystal has been running back and forward copying each part of the list as it’s decided. I’m surprised at their efficiency once again. I suppose if the tournament drags out, it increases the risk of the Watch finding us. I don’t know why they didn’t just station Watchmen at each of the arenas. They knew where each one was. But then I remember the hundred or so Watchmen needed to overwhelm us the last time. There weren’t enough of them to spread out like this.
Crystal passes me the completed copy of the next draw. Forty fights. My heart sinks as I see Shard faces one of Hale’s top men. It will be a close match. I’d hoped to get through another round before this happened. I need Shard in the top twenty with me. If he’s exhausted after this match, it will be hard for him to win the final fight of the day. I’ll also face a top-twenty fighter, but he’s at the lower end. It will be a good chance to get rid of some competition. He’s from a compound currently in Sector Five.
I sit on the edge of our bench during Shard’s fight, wincing at every hit connecting with his head and ribs. Finally, with a blow to the middle of the chest, Shard gains the upper hand. A win follows soon after. The next draw really needs to be in his favor. He nods at me as I slap him on the back. Our eyes meet and I know we’re thinking the same thing.
Hale is livid. Crystal gasps as he kicks the unconscious fighter Shard beat moments before.
I sway into the arena when my fight comes around. I smile and wink at the crowds who are screaming my name. I shouldn’t be flattered by how they all know my name, but I am.
The man I’m facing has the look of someone who knows he’s going to lose. He’s lost his mental edge, but I don’t let my guard down. People who have nothing to lose are the most unpredictable. Turns out that’s not the case. It takes mere minutes to put him flat on his back and kick him across the face to knock him out. It’s a low blow, but by the time I reach the bottom of the five steps into the pit, my morality has disappeared. It’s strange to think about how honorable your hits are when you’re here in the pit in the first place. And I could be sure Slay wouldn’t hesitate to fight dirty.
Flurry, Ice, Avalanche and Blizzard make it through, but Flurry gets a bad kick to the head which has me worried about his next fight. He doesn’t seem to be walking entirely straight.
Night must have fallen by the time the third round starts. It’s impossible to tell so far underground. I would have thought the crowd had yelled themselves hoarse by now, but if anything, they’re louder. The drink is most likely to blame for this - and for their increasing state of nakedness.
I get the next draw. “Crap,” I say under my breath. I hand the draw to Shard.
“Crap indeed,” he says. He’s matched with Slay’s brother who I would put in the top ten. Shard’s also in the top ten. If he’d fought him earlier, it would be different. But Butcher has competed in two easy rounds. Actually, most of Hale’s group has ended up with easy fights.
I’m up against one of Tricks’ men, Vice. He’s not as good as Sin, but arrogance or a slip on my part could be all he needs to take the win. There are two other questionable fights for us. Flurry and Avalanche will need to be at their best. I talk over the game plan with everyone during their warm ups and then leave them to finish their stretches. They’re focused and hungering for a win.
Alzona’s a mess.
Her nails are chewed right down. She’s abandoned her ever-present cool demeanor. Crystal does her best to distract the owner, but I suspect she’s having her own trouble with facing Slay after what he did to the woman outside our barracks.
Flurry enters the pit. Is it wrong to be happy when I see his opponent, Jack, is not in the best shape? I decide it’s not and chuckle over the man’s normal name. That is, until he makes his first move. Jack means business. It’s one of the longest bouts yet. The kind of fight which comes down to how much each person wants it.
Jack crashes to the floor after a heel to the jaw. Turns out Flurry wanted it more.
Two fights later, without any warning, Slay grabs a weapon from the wall and kills his opponent. Crowd and competitors alike are stunned at the bloody gore splattered before them. No one dares to boo him. The man he killed wasn’t even in the top five. He shouldn’t have been a problem for Slay. Was there something personal between them? Or was this another message to me? I get my answer when he points his bloody sword my way. I quash down my horror and squeeze Crystal’s hand, making her a silent promise.
Despite their best efforts, Shard and Avalanche are both knocked out by their opponents in the following matches. The fighters who beat them are in better shape after the first rounds, and in Avalanche’s case, the other man is simply better. It takes four men to carry my giant friend out.
It’s a heavy blow for our odds of winning, but after watching Slay murder his opponent before, I decide I’m just glad they’re safe. I hope more than I’ve ever hoped before, that Ice, Flurry and Blizzard don’t come up against him tomorrow. I doubt I’d be able to stand back and watch one of my friends die.
My turn again. The bell rings. Vice dances forward. He’s quick on his feet and stronger than me, like most of the other males here. I watch him move. He’s favoring his right leg slightly. His left must have been injured in a previous fight. I tuck the information away. I bait him until he makes the first move. Normally, I’d exchange a few blows first, but I need to hit hard and fast. The rounds tomorrow are more important than the crowd’s entertainment today. I dodge and kick at his left knee as he makes his move. I don’t need to kick hard enough to break the bone or end his career. A moderate kick is enough to make the leg a liability. I remember how it felt when my leg was broken by my uncle. I’d never do that to anyone. Not even Slay.
The match is over soon after. Vice knows it as well. He limps away and evades a few more hits before I step in front of him and kick my leg straight up underneath his chin - my favorite kick. Out cold. The crowd chants my name once more. I do a couple of flips to keep them happy. Alzona will be proud.
We trudge home, so wearied most of us can’t string two words together. In a bizarre twist, Avalanche is chattering nonstop after his knockout. I worry about injury to his brain. The first day is over. Four of our fighters are in the top twenty. Our barracks are in third place behind Tricks’, with five fighters, and Hale, who has six. For all of my conviction when encouraging the others, this is the first time I truly believe we can win top barracks.
Everything depends on tomorrow.