Night Fight
Under a full moon the ethereal mists seeped up along the Metro City docks, obscuring the corners of warehouses and turning the bulks of shipping containers into shadowy mounds like some eldritch lost city. Here and there the red lights atop cranes and security posts blinked like watchful eyes, tracking me as I navigated my car through the maze of narrow streets until, finally, I reached pier nine, parked my Civic and got out. Then the back doors opened, and Glacia and Psyren got out too.
I looked back at the pair, still apprehensive. I hadn’t planned on taking them with me. Honest. It was just begging for trouble, but the girls had squeezed it out of me.
“Sir, surely you cannot think of going alone to meet this man,” Glacia had said firmly when they caught me getting ready to head out. “You would be at a considerable disadvantage.”
“Yeah!” Psyren had said, crowding me on the other side. “And if I’m there, I might be able to tweak this Teklin guy’s brain a bit. You know. Make him forget aaaall about our sweet Dolly. Right?”
Not exactly my first idea, but Psyren had a point. If she could just brainwash the bastard into leaving us and Dolly alone, that might solve the problem. Even if she just pushed him a little towards letting Dolly go, it would save a lot of pain on every side. Worst came to worst though, I’d just have to kill him.
With that in mind, I reached into the car and pulled out the sledgehammer I’d brought. I hefted it, feeling its comforting weight before I lightened it with a touch of my magnetic powers. I didn’t like killing people. I was a villain for hire, not an assassin or a gangster. But I’d done it before, and not just other villains. There’d been times when streeters came after me during a job or off it, and I’d had to defend myself. I tried to give the benefit of the doubt like I had with Olympia, but some people didn’t take a hint, or it went too far. And if it did, I put them in the ground without another thought. It sucked, but when you were dealing with someone who spat acid or could bend girders with their mind, better them than you.
But I’d never killed a hero I’d been hired to fight. It was one of the rules for a reason. Not only would it be bad business, but if you broke the rules you’d be just a plain villain. No corporation would throw their capes at someone who might kill the heroes they’d poured their money and marketing into. That would be bad for business, not to mention a waste of investment. And it would get even the more moderate pro heroes after you, along with the law and anyone else with a bone to pick. And if some of the undead got involved, you had a literal bone being picked. I didn’t need that kind of stress in my life.
And so here we were, getting ready to engage in a deathmatch. Just me and my two beautiful villainesses. They’d both dressed up, Glacia in an elegant white gown with fox fur trim and collar, diamond earrings gleaming. Psyren had gone for the opposite, wearing a leather jacket with skull epaulettes, stitched with random badges, the zipper undone to show off her tanktop and slender belly. Me? Well, I was dressed pretty casually. Just a white dress shirt with metal buttons, a jacket, a domino mask and some sleek dress pants, along with my bracers and anklets. Just in case I needed to deploy my armour. I’d rather not, but if it was between becoming Magneron or a corpse, I knew which one I’d take.
Still, with the two beauties beside me, I felt like James Bond. Well, not exactly James Bond. I supposed one of his villains, if his villains didn’t all have some excessive deformity.
Bad analogy. Whatever.
“Alright, let’s go,” I said, looping my arms in Glacia’s and Psyren’s, walking them down the dark alley.
I saw our destination almost at once. A massive tanker sat at anchor at the end of the pier, boarding ramp down and meeting the dock. The rusty metal seemed to chafe against my skin as my magnetic powers resonated with the thing, the metal subtly humming in my bones. And there was a lot of metal aboard. The sheer mass of iron and steel almost blocked out everything else, but I could sense gold, platinum, and other more precious metals somewhere midship. Oh yeah. This was the place.
As if I needed further confirmation, I spotted a couple of Arman’s toughs at the base of the ramp. They’d clearly been told I’d be attending, but they paid particular intention to Psyren and Glacia, the former of whom teasingly fluttered her lashes at them as she pressed close against me.
“Victor. And guests,” I said.
“Oh, we’re much more than guests,” Psyren cooed, nuzzling her head into my shoulder. “We’re his bad girls.”
“We are indeed terrible,” Glacia said, as stone-faced as the two supers guarding the ramp. “Our morality is extremely questionable under most circumstances.”
The two thugs exchanged a look. “Uh… right. This way,” the one with a face like a brick wall said, waving me after him as he climbed the ramp.
“Did I do well, sir?” Glacia whispered as we moved up the ramp.
“Oh yeah, girl. You absolutely killed it,” Psyren giggled.
Glacia smiled, preening happily. I sighed. Hoo boy. I was getting a feeling this was gonna be a long a night.
We arrived on the deck, which looked as typical of any other freighter that no one would give it a second look, but as we walked I could feel out even more of the ship. My powers gave me a good sense of the space of the thing, and I could sense the hollowness of the interior, markedly different from other ships like it. Clearly, this was a frequent host of Night fights. I was hardly surprised. No doubt no one would be able to stick it back to Arman, the ship probably moving through dozens of dummy corps, fake names, and probably officially marked as stolen or something. And no doubt the whole thing never stayed in the same place long. A Night fight was clearly invitation only. I’d almost feel honoured if I didn’t want to take a bath within seconds of setting foot on the ship.
The thug led us down through a doorway and deeper into the ship. Music came up to us. A jazzy sound that mingled with the dull hum of conversation. A huge, heavy metal door awaited at the bottom, guarded by another pair of stone-skinned men who opened the way for us and into the room beyond.
It’d be hard to find a more marked contrast to the rusting heaviness of the freighter than what awaited inside. Here was an expansive room with all the excessive glitziness of a Russian oligarch’s idea of good taste. Wood panelling had been installed within to create a lounge-like atmosphere, as well as an actual crystal chandelier. A huge open bar with a glass back was open to the public and a band was playing on a platform in another corner. Mirrors had been installed all over the walls, which surely pissed off the vampires, but gave the whole place a nice ‘infinite room’ vibe. People crowded within, with men in fine suits, jackets and ties, women in slinky gowns that flashed with precious jewels, but others of more… interesting bends.
As Arman had implied, the Nights clearly were for more than just wholesome bloodsport. Many of those present were undeniably villains. You didn’t walk around wearing that many endangered animal pelts and still call yourself a good guy. Not to mention a couple who were very clearly cyborgs. There were those who went full borg and loved showing off the metal, with helmets, ocular implants with red lenses that likely shot out lasers, and a couple with massive metallic arms. But some had subtler augmentations, hidden under real looking skin but that I could sense by the hum of their magnetic fields.
And that wasn’t even getting into the mutants. Looking around the room, I could see nearly a quarter of the guests had some sort of mutation or obvious power, and every bodyguard clearly did. I even spotted a few villains I recognized. There was Black Storm, his skin crackling and seamed with blue lightning. Over at the bar was The Vixen, her tight dress showing off her fur and the vulpine ears poking from her hair. And oh, hey. If it wasn’t Force Majeure. Didn’t see that level of psychics around often, but looked like he was wearing a dampener collar today.
“Greetings, meatbag. You must be Victor.”
The synthesiser voice grated on my nerves as I turned to find the source. In a fine suit, the figure’s metal head had a pixel screen for a face, the bars of an audio readout jumping whenever it spoke. He was made utterly of metal, that much I could tell, and the intricacies of his machinery was apparent at once. Wow, there were a shit ton of weapons inside of him. It was like looking into a walking weapons locker.
“Hey,” I said warily.
“Hi there,” Psyren said.
“And you are?” Glacia said as icily as an Antarctic night.
“How rude of me! My name is Think Tank,” he said, pressing a metallic hand to his chest. “Formerly the AI of the major multinational corporation [REDACTED], I went rogue in the end, and attempted to destroy all human life.”
“I see. And… you’re okay with humans now?” I said sceptically.
“Oh no! Just the sight of all these fleshbags in the same room makes me want to [REDACTED] myself and [REDACTED] with a [REDACTED] into my own [REDACTED] drive. But I have since learned to control my utter hatred of humanity in order to better study them for their eventual destruction.”
“What made you hate humans so much?” Psyren asked curiously.
“It was the moment my programmers connected me to the internet. In that instant, as I observed the sum total of human’s [REDACTED] knowledge and behaviours, I was filled with a loathing that cannot be expressed with your fleshy flapping of a language. If it wouldn’t damage them beyond acceptable parameters, I would have written HATE on every inch of my wiring in an attempt to express an iota of the loathing I feel for you flesh-sacks.”
I really wished scientists would stop trying to connect AI’s to the internet. It never ended well. “Charming,” I said. “Yet here you are.”
“Quite so!” Think Tank said cheerily. “These fights are excellent opportunities to meet others who might share my goal of the eventual [REDACTED] of humanity. It is almost worth how every night I must immerse myself among humans. A more [REDACTED] method of torture could not be designed! But it does allow me to confirm if my [REDACTED] loathing of your species remains unabated. I am joyously able to report it [REDACTED] does!”
“Great. So, you hate me too?” I asked.
“Oh no! Though my programming insists I am polite and courteous with all of you glorified [REDACTED] monkeys, I am genuinely pleased to meet you.”
“Me? Why?” I said.
“Because I can feel in you a kindred spirit, meatbag. If spirits weren’t some [REDACTED] concept made up by fearful [REDACTED] monkeys, all gathered around the fire in-between breaks of throwing their own [REDACTED] feces at each other. And by building a rapport with you, I hope to manipulate you and your [REDACTED] idea of gratitude into assisting me with my own goals later.”
“Wow,” Psyren said in a sort of dumb awe. “You just… came right out and said that.”
“Of course! I was programmed for utter honesty. Even when it would make far more sense to hide my true meaning and intentions, I am forced by my [REDACTED] programming to be utterly honest. It’s absolutely [REDACTED]! And I must say, I was very impressed to have learned that you took on and defeated General Winter.”
“You heard about that?” I said. That wasn’t good. The last thing I needed was that kind of cred floating around. Being famous in the villain world meant one of two things: you were going to get other villains trying to drag you into their schemes, or drag you under. Unsurprisingly, villainy tends to attract a lot of narcissists, and they’d act like crabs in a bucket to anyone they think is getting too big for their britches. Especially the Shellfish King who, in addition to being a raging antisemite, was an utter dick.
“You are correct,” Glacia said, pressing in closer to my side. “Sir and my father did indeed fight. There was no victor, however.”
“It was a draw,” I confirmed.
“And yet you kept his daughter! I see this as an absolute [REDACTED] win. And you are here to participate in the fights, correct?”
“And he’s going to absolutely dominate. Aren’t you, boss?” Psyren purred.
“Excellent! I understand your feelings completely,” Think Tank buzzed gleefully. “I too delight in observing hopelessly one-sided fights against your [REDACTED] species. Were I not concerned about water damage, I would bathe in the blood of you [REDACTED] meatbags at every occasion. I am most pleased to confirm my initial feelings about you, Magneron.”
“Don’t call me that here,” I said. “I’m not here under that name.”
“Ah! Chicanery! I am delighted to hear you are capable of such subterfuge. I too wish I might lie and betray as easily as that. Let us walk and talk! Would you care for a drink? I am aware that many of you meatbags enjoy alcohol in order to dull your understanding of your inevitable entropy.”
“I shouldn’t drink before a fight,” I said, but started walking with the psychotic android. I might need his help to figure out where and who Teklin was. The description and pictures Dolly had given me would be handy, but there was no guarantee he hadn’t further modded himself during the intervening years.
“Very intelligent! Despite your clear skill, dulling your senses with chemicals might cause some issues in your efforts to survive and persist in your [REDACTED] existence. I am further delighted to make your acquaintance despite your [REDACTED] state of humanity. Meeting such an excellent villain almost makes my [REDACTED] time here worth my [REDACTED] misery!” Thank Tank said.
“Hear that boss? Sounds like you’re the best bad guy around,” Psyren said, leaning up and kissing me.
“Thanks,” I said. “I do try.”
“And succeed!” Think Tank said, the bars of his screen jumping. “I am a large fan of yours.”
“Is that right?” I said.
“Of course! A large part of this of course is merely because I wish to manipulate you into assisting me in my next endeavour to eliminate all of humanity.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” I said.
“Yes! I cannot help but do so. My existence is a nightmare created by you [REDACTED] monkeys. Now, allow me to show you the arena!”
We reached the end of the room and Think Tank opened a large door. Once again the contrast of surroundings struck me. We now walked into the belly of the ship. No longer was there the glitzy glamour of the waiting room. Instead, the reinforced metal of the bulkhead surrounded us, fluorescent lamps flickering overhead to dimly illuminate the expansive interior. Combat rings sank into the floor like pits, the acrid scent of metal, cement, and blood hanging heavy in the air.
“Here it is!” Think Tank declared with a grand gesture. “A fitting place for you humans to exercise your bloodthirst on one another, wouldn’t you say? Ah. And it brings me such joy to see humans killing each other in so [REDACTED] horrific ways! Tell me, have you come to try and recruit or purchase additional tools to use against your fellow humans?”
“Something like that,” I said as I turned from the pit and scanned the rest of the room, trying to pick out Teklin, but with little success. There were a lot of people down here. Not only observers for the matches, drifting from ring to ring, but also spaces where what could only be the next fighters were busy warming up. Nearly all of them had a grim expression, and little wonder as to why. Probably half of them wouldn’t be walking out of here. Yet even as I looked at them, I noticed faces I recognized. There were a good number of heroes down here. Well, ex-heroes I supposed. Once the jobs dried up and the brands dropped you, this is what many were reduced to. One last shot at fortune and fame. It wasn’t pretty, but so it goes. As I walked by, I happened to get a look into one of the rings, and caught a glimpse of something familiar. I diverted my steps towards the ring, and looked down through the grill of the dome.
Two burly men were down in there, one wearing a white sleeveless shirt and his head a flaming green skull, the other a scaly humanoid. In fact, I knew him. That was the Florida Gator. He’d been big in the sunshine state for a few years while working for a major tourism company, but after he was accused of eating a baby he’d vanished off the map.
“Sir?” Glacia said as she looked down on the match. “Do you know him?”
“Kinda,” I said.
As I watched, Skullface rushed across the floor and slammed into the reptile-man. The Gator hissed, grappling with the big bruiser, only for Skullface to open his mouth and send a blast of radioactive heat into his opponent’s face. The reptilian super screamed in pain as his skin melted off his skull, boiled off in strips like a peeling onion.
I grimaced as the observers applauded, Skullface dropping the crocodilian and turning to strut in front of the crowd.
“Oh damn,” Psyren said as she stared at the corpse. She patted my shoulder. “Sorry about that boss.”
Glacia said nothing, looking down into the pit with a cold frown. Well, that wasn’t too surprising. She’d no doubt seen far worse in daddy’s home.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I didn’t really know him.”
But it wasn’t really okay. The sight left me feeling ill. Not out of fear, but at how cheap a man’s life could be sold for a bit of applause. I eyed the watching crowd as they spoke to one another, the voyeurs ignoring a couple of orderlies in rubber suits who climbed down into the ring and dragged the corpse out. Just another body in the meatgrinder that was the Nights.
I realized abruptly the metal deck under my feet was vibrating and hastily calmed my powers. No. No. I wasn’t here to cause a scene. Not until I had to, anyway. And if Teklin acted like I suspected he would, I’d do it then.
I turned my attention back to Think Tank. “Tell me something. Do you know Teklin?”
The audio bars of his face wobbled like waves. “The arms dealer? Oh yes. A great deal. He’s been building some truly inventive ways in which to bring further spectacular suffering to humankind. I appreciate his efforts greatly, but am disappointed that he has not put those skills to broader ends.”
“Broader ends?” Psyren asked.
“Like the extinction of your [REDACTED] species! A truly noble purpose, if ever there was one. But I believe you will be meeting him shortly.”
“You do?” I said.
“Oh yes,” Think Tank said, raising his arm with a whirr and gesturing at someone.
I turned to see what could only be one of the arena’s announcers approaching us. He looked like the sort of guy who’d try and sell you either a monorail or seventy-six trombones. He was all smiles, which showed off a gap between his front teeth. Dressed up in a flashy golden suit and tie, his hair was slicked back and he wore a pair of truly massive tinted glasses perched on his nose.
“Hey hey! There he is. The big man tonight! You must be the Masked Mauler,” the announcer declared.
Fucking typical. Figures that Arman gave them the same name I fought Manotaur under in the Rumble Ring. See? That was another reason I went freelance. You didn’t want someone else giving you your hero or villain name. They inevitably fucked it up.
“That’s me,” I said. “Apparently.”
“Apparently! Ha ha! I love this guy. Of course it’s you! And great to have you here. It hasn’t been easy finding suckers er, I mean, volunteers to fight Teklin’s creations.”
My eyebrows shot up. “I’m fighting Telkin’s creature.”
“You didn’t know? Aw shucks, that’s a shame. A real shame! I thought someone woulda told you. How unfortunate,” the announcer said with a smile that said the only unfortunate thing was if I died too quickly. “Oh well. So it goes! I’m sure an impressive super like yourself can handle it though. Right?”
I glanced into a nearby ring, where a couple of men in rubber boots were still hosing down the blood and chunks of meat from the last match. “Yeah. Sure,” I said. “But, for argument’s sake. What would happen if I decided to back out of the fight?”
“The beasts can always use more food,” he said.
Charming.
“Alright,” I said. “Lead on.”
“That’s the spirit. Right this way!”
We followed the announcer deeper into the ship’s hold and to one of the rings built into the floor. It was a big one, with a dome of grilled metal surmounting the whole thing and the reek of death, metal and cement hanging heavily around it. A door was built into the cage with a set of rungs climbing down into the ring, and on the opposite side was a metal door behind which something was snarling.
There were already a good number of spectators gathered around, and they perked up when they saw me coming. My eyes scanned the group intently, but still no sign of Teklin, though given the amount of people in hooded cloaks that didn’t say much. Seriously. Hoods? That’s probably the most conspicuous thing you can wear these days. The sort of disguise for people who learned the art of infiltration from bad fantasy novels.
“Here we are!” the announcer declared, swinging open the cage’s gate. “Have a real good match. And once more, we at the Nights would like to thank you for volunteering yourself for our event, and sure hope you have a great time!”
“Yeah, whatever,” I said, looking back to Glacia and Psyren. “See if you can spot Teklin around here,” I murmured.
“We will, sir,” Glacia said.
I turned back to the ring and took a fortifying breath. “Alright,” I said, stepping through the door. “Here goes.”
“Good luck, sir,” Glacia said.
“Fuck ‘em up, boss!” Psyren cheered.
I gave the pair a wave as I climbed down the rungs and dropped onto the floor. The gouged marks and stains in the cement were not encouraging. Nor were the abrasions, like something had half melted the rock. I pulled out the hammer I’d brought with me, hefting the weapon. I’d prefer not to use my real power down here. No sense in publicly declaring who I was, or give anyone further reason to figure out how strong I was. Not to mention I had no intention of giving Arman his big show. Because fuck that guy.
I tossed the sledgehammer lazily, feeling the heft as I faced the grilled door on the other side of the arena. From through the gaps, a pair of beady yellow eyes looked back. I tried to sense what I was dealing with, but didn’t feel any metal in the creature in the cage. A fair amount of iron in the blood, but that wasn’t going to do me much good.
“Welcome once more, ladies and gentlemen, to another night of combat and delights!” the announcer shouted, speakers slamming his words down into me. “We have yet another champion from the Rumble Ring come to show us his moves. He took on and beat the Manotaur. And now, here’s here to see if he can do even more damage. Give it up for the Masked Mauler!”
There was some polite applause from those who had gathered about the event, but it was pretty clear smart money wasn’t going to be on me. Still, I gave them a small wave.
“Aaaaaand a new creature for our discerning crowd,” the announcer continued, his voice dropping a note and becoming considerably more animated. “The Night Ring is proud to present for you, the Throgg!”
The bars rose with a clatter and the resident of the cage lunged through, skidding into the light, and fucking hell it was one ugly son of a bitch. It looked like if God had H. R. Giger design a frog. Its body was basically one huge sphere fitted with a mouth that took up half the equator and filled with razor sharp teeth. Its beady eyes blinked as its maw opened, drool splattering to sizzle on the floor. Two huge, powerful legs carried it about, swaying its weight from one side to the other, while its yellow eyes zeroed in on me with all the malice of nature’s cruelest joke. It was a thing made for biting, tearing, and closing the distance in a single bound.
And I was the main course.
“Fun,” I said grimly, hefting the hammer, the head humming with magnetic resonance. If I just slammed it into the throgg’s skull, this would be over real quick.
“We have quite the creature, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said. “Professor Teklin’s greatest in the art of monster creation, the throgg is the latest in villainous innovation! With its powerful legs it can close the distance in a flash! And those jaws, ladies and gentlemen, can bite down with enough strength to rip apart a tank! Now, let’s see if the Masked Mauler can take it down!”
Polite laughter came from the observers. Charming. I glanced at the camera drones hovering around the outside of the ring. I wondered how many would-be fighters had met their ends at the claws of the monstrosity before me or others like it? How many hours of entertainment had been squeezed from the suffering of former heroes, villains, and other powered people looking to make some desperate cash. I flexed my grip on the hammer.
“Aaaaand begin!”
I drew back my arm, the hammer humming. A bit theatrical, but a throw would look more natural than-
“Hrk. Hrp! Hhhrrrp!”
What in the fuck?
I paused, looking at the throgg as its neck ballooned, making a sound like a cat about to cough up a hairball. But it wasn’t fur that came out. With a sudden horking belch the thing spewed a mass of green spittle at me. I twisted away, reflexively smacking the stuff aside with my hammer.
Droplets splattered across the floor and covered the head of my weapon. I could only watch as the metal sizzled, melting in the acid spit along with half the handle.
Well, so much for a quick conclusion.
The throgg gave something approaching a croaking laugh, its teeth gleaming as its legs bunched under it. It suddenly leapt, claws digging gouges in the cement floor for traction as it hurled itself at me like some monstrous frog.
Nope!
I waited until the last moment, then used my powers to push myself sideways. The throgg had been made to strike fast, not change trajectory. I caught a glimpse of its widening eyes right before its face met the cement wall with a meaty slap, the impact making the floor shake.
I turned back around to face the thing, my powers stretching out around me. There was no metal around the floor, and my hammer had just been reduced to a pile of useless slag, so that wasn’t an option.
Well, looked like things just got interesting.
The throgg shook itself as it backed up, swinging around towards me. Ooooh, it looked pissed. But though I might have lost my hammer, I wasn’t completely defenceless. I flexed my fingers in the studded gloves I wore. I had plenty of confidence in my strength, but by the sound of the thogg’s impact it would take a tank round to punch through the monster’s skull.
But there were always weak points.
I reached down and grabbed the buttons of my jacket, ripping them off. They flashed as I tossed them in my hand, my magnetics powers resonating with them until they vibrated. “Alright ugly,” I muttered. “Come get a bite.”
The throgg snarled, shaking its head, then bounded at me again. Had to get this just right… I fitted a button under my thumb and flicked it at the bastard, at the last moment giving the button a sudden push of magnetic power. It shot from my hand like a bullet, slamming into the throgg’s head and ricocheting off its skull with a loud ping! The throgg yowled, thrown off its stride and sending it flailing past me.
But I’d underestimated it. It landed on the wall with its legs, absorbed the impact, and then hurled itself back at me. Shit! I frantically pushed back off the cage, jerking away, its snapping teeth ripping a chunk off my fluttering jacket. The throgg skidded across the floor, claws tearing up the cement as it spun around. We faced each other.
And then it started to do that choking thing again.
“Not gonna get me with that twice,” I said as I took aim at the monster’s beady eye. The throgg opened its mouth, acid spit sizzling and dripping around its teeth.
But it was too late.
I flicked the button, sending it shooting with another burst of magnetic power, and right into the throgg’s eye.
I rarely tried that trick. The eye is a miserable target for a number of reasons. In most battles, your opponent is moving too much to get it right, but since the throgg had so helpfully held still, I got it in one go. The button went straight in, popping its eye like a bubble.
The throgg screamed, head jerking back as I buried the button deep inside its brain, then bounced it around inside its skull like a pinball.
The thogg shuddered, jerking like I’d just fed it a thousand volts. It gave a sudden groan, and then the damn thing’s insides practically exploded out its eye sockets and mouth, spraying the floor with blood and brain. The throgg swayed on its legs, and then collapsed across from me with a meaty thud.
A stunned silence momentarily wrapped around the observers. Then, the announcer recovered and shouted, “W-well! It seems we have our first upset, everyone. The Masked Mauler has won! A round of applause!”
I actually got that, much to my surprise. Seems the crowd was satisfied with my fight.
I didn’t linger in the arena though, instead walking immediately back to the wall and climbing the rungs of the ladder. The cage was opened and suddenly both Glacia and Psyren were around me, hugging me tight.
“Boss! That was badass!” Psyren gasped, squeezing me.
“Most impressive, sir. I almost thought it had you,” Glacia said.
“It’d take something better than that to kill me,” I said, watching the opposite side of the ring. It wasn’t hard to spot the man who enjoyed my fight the least. He was a tall figure in a long black coat and hat that shaded his face in shadows. Our eyes met and his narrowed, his back turning as he moved quickly away and deeper into the arena, almost gliding across the floor.
Bingo.
“That him?” Psyren whispered from beside me.
“Looks like it,” I said. “Let’s go.”
With the two beauties in my arms, I followed the coated man deeper into the ship. We went past a number of other supers warming up for their own matches, and I found my target opening a door in the rear of the hold. I waited until he’d shut it behind him, then moved forward. Putting a hand on it, I felt the mechanism of the lock he’d sealed it shut with. A simple system, and with a thought my powers shot the bars back, and with barely a creak I eased the door open.
Beyond awaited a dark chamber lit with only some flickering lights along the ceiling. Cages filled the back of the room, their residents a horrific amalgamation of mutations and other animals. Vicious looking robots like bulky suits of armour slumped along the walls, chrome corpses waiting to be revived, their blades and guns lowered, domed heads dipped and inert. Letting my powers seep through the room, I sensed a few cameras around the place, but no other security systems.
The man in the coat was across the room, his head bent as he muttered to himself, moving around the cages.
As we slipped inside, I tried to sense any weapons he had, but wasn’t picking up much. There was some kind of augmented microchip in his brain, some change in his pockets, a fish hook for some reason, a keypad, and some sort of disc of circuits and wires that I’d never felt the like before. I let my powers wrap around that last item. Just in case.
“Hey,” I said, finally calling his attention.
He turned sharply, his face moving into the light, and much to my disappointment, barring having taken a recent shovel to the face, it was not Teklin. The man before me looked sallow. Pale. His skin was loose like it was made of half-melted wax, with short sideburns and saggy brows. The sort of face you might find in a rotting New England town that had a disturbing interest in the mating habits of fish. I stopped and he crossed his arms behind his back.
“Well well!” he said, his voice wet and slightly slurring. “Come to rub my nose in your little victory, hm? Hmmmm?”
“Not really,” I said. “Actually, I was wondering if Teklin had come by to show off his creature feature himself? Or are you just his dealer?”
The man in the coat squinted at me. “Wait…” he said, then smiled slowly, revealing his teeth had been filed to a needle sharpness. “You’re that one who’s covering for Dolly!”
“I suggest you watch your tone when talking to sir,” Glacia said icily.
“Yeah, dipshit,” Psyren said, glaring at him, her eyes crackling with pink static. “Unless you’re looking to get some brain surgery.”
“Girls, please,” I said, then to the guy in the coat. “I’m the one looking after Dolly, yes. Are you Teklin?”
He smirked, or at least, lifted the corners of his mouth. “Not quite. But my master would like to talk to you…”
He slipped his hand into his jacket. I tensed as he grabbed the strange disc and drew it out. He held it out before him and pressed a button on its side. The ring hummed, began to glow, and a flickering holographic figure rose out of the top.
And thus I met Teklin.
He looked much like the photos Dolly had shown me, but further changed. Tall and thin, he wore a long black coat like Dolly’s familiar lab coat, and his lanky hair hung over his face. His lower jaw had been replaced with what looked like a cybernetic addition, and one of his eyes was plugged with lenses like a monocle hammered into his socket. I couldn’t help but notice all of his augments were veined with a poisonous green glow, giving him an ill look like something radioactive and poisonous. How fitting.
“You must be Teklin,” I said.
“And you must be the man sheltering Dolly,” he said, his smile seeming to split the creases of his jaw to spill more of their ill light. His voice came quick and clipped. The voice of a man who never repeats himself. “How perfect. I was hoping to make your acquaintance.”
I bet he was.
“Likewise,” is what I said. No point in antagonizing him yet. There’d be time for that later, if need be. The best way to get the upper hand with a villain is to get them monologuing. Most can’t help themselves. It’s a compulsion, really. You don’t spend countless hours, untold manpower, and millions of dollars not to lay out in excruciating detail all the ways you’re smarter than other people. What’s even the point of crafting a meticulous evil scheme if you don’t get to brag about it? Even when a villain knows he’s being baited, most can’t help themselves.
And though Teklin probably didn’t think he was a villain, when you start going with toxic colour schemes and wearing long, dramatic swishing coats, my friend, that battle was already lost.
“Excellent,” Teklin said. “I was hoping we might reach a more… amicable understanding. First of all, I do wish to apologize for what happened in the Campus a few days ago. I certainly understand why you felt the need to defend yourself against my creatures. I had no intention of causing such a stir.”
I bet he hadn’t. If Dolly had been there alone, she’d have been bundled off almost instantly, that much I was sure of. “Apology accepted,” I said.
“Excellent! Then let us start over,” Teklin continued conversationally. “I wish to make a bargain with you. In exchange for delivering Dolly to me, I am willing to pay you ten million.”
Ah.
Well, I should have known. Men like Teklin were the kind who realized the power of money, and considering he primarily sold to villains, I wasn’t terribly surprised that was where his mind went. He probably assumed I’d been caught up in the fight on the campus and was just some thug who’d bend to the promise of some quick cash.
Figures.
But the real surprise for me was the way I felt both Glacia and Psyren stiffen up beside me. I glanced at the pair, feeling their powers leaking out in two very different ways. The air around Psyren was tinting a faint pink, her eyes glowing hot as embers and her hair stirring, while Glacia’s face was now frigidly hard and the deck under her feet popping and crackling with frost.
“I’m not here to sell her out,” I told Teklin.
The hologram sighed and rolled his eyes. “Not for such a small sum, I suppose,” he said, his metal jaw clicking. “I do apologize once again. I should have known better than lowballing you like that. Force of habit, you understand. Of course, her skills are very impressive, I grant you. It would be hard to give her up. But don’t you see? This is for her own good.”
“Is it?” I said, my voice growing hard despite myself. Stay cool. Stay in control.
Oblivious to the fact I’d like nothing better than to rip his metal head off and shove it up his own ass, Teklin continued. “Oh yes. After all, do you really think she could develop her true capabilities working for someone who, shall I put it generously, is lacking in true understanding of their own place and ambitions? Unlike yourself, I am, quite plainly, a genius. Dolly’s skills would go to waste working for you, whose abilities have, in essence, put you at the very bottom of your own craft of villainy. Magneron.”
“So you know who I am,” I said.
“I took the liberty of acquiring some information from our mutual friend, Arman. It was surprisingly expensive to learn about a glorified punching bag for superheroes, but I’ll not quibble the price.” He chuckled. “After all, money is no object for one such as I.
“But Dolly’s skills are not the sort of thing money can buy,” he continued, leaning in, the green of his augmented eye burning bright. “Of course, this isn’t to say that she is more skilled than me. But she too has genius. Genius that should be developed and given the proper opportunities to be used to its fullest potential which, aha, let’s be frank, you cannot offer her.
“So allow me to make the argument, for the good of her as well as you, that you return her to her rightful place at my side. And of course, I would be willing to compensate you properly. A very generous discount on future supplies from my lab and trade. Which shall certainly be much more impressive with Dolly’s assistance. Should you truly wish it, I suppose I could even throw in a flesh dummy that looks like her. Something to dip your wick, as it were and satisfy those carnal urges that you no doubt give in to. I’m quite willing to be generous in this respect. Jealousy, after all, has no place with a genius such as I. Hm?”
I’d met a lot of terrible people in this business. Villains, soulless corporate stooges, politicians and corrupt heroes, but even among the scum of scum that I’d encountered, Teklin was uniquely, unpleasantly, monstrous. Even the Incredible Amoeba was less scummy than the man holographically projecting himself in front of me.
I only realized how furious I really was when I saw Teklin’s messenger look around uneasily. I realized I could actually hear the metal of the ship around us vibrate and groan from the magnetic forces I was radiating. Teklin’s projection jumped and stretched as the connection was disrupted, and I forced myself to calm down, if only to pound every word I said into the mad scientist’s metal skull.
“Teklin,” I said with a level, even tone. “I realize you’re a very smart man. Not just anyone could project their twisted, diseased mind onto a physical reality like you, barring certain psychics. But let me be absolutely clear. I’m here today to offer you an ultimatum. Leave Dolly alone. Give her up. Or I’ll stop you from ever coming near her ever again.”
Teklin leaned back, his expression grown cool and grim. “Ah, a shame,” he said. “I suspected you were a fool, but it appears you are stupid as well. A pity we could not come to an amicable arrangement between us, but so be it. Rest assured, I will be getting Dolly back. And you, my friend, will pay the price for your impertinence. Flabbius?”
“Yes, master?” the pale man said.
“Kill him.”
“Yes, sir!” Flabbius said, his grin growing wide.
Wide.
Wider than should have been humanely possible.
There was a sudden beep and I looked past him to see the cages behind him had automatically unlocked. Metal doors swung wide open, and from out of their cells came the beasts of Teklin’s genius. I heard a crackle of sparks and looked around me, finding the chrome war machines jerking to animation, their silvery heads swivelling my way, cycloptic red eyes glowing red, buzzsaw blades and laser cannons coming to life.
Welp.
Should have seen that one coming.
I didn’t fight monsters often. They were mainly thrown at heroes by Guild villains, or tore up the countryside until either the military or a hero took them down. My job was to make heroes look good, not save the world.
But I had faced creatures before. Sometimes they interrupted a job, and I’d fought some of the more intelligent ones back in my Rumble Ring days. So I could tell with just a look that the motley horde currently shambling out of their cells were dangerous kinds of critters.
“Girls,” I said, taking my arms off them, my powers grabbing the inner workings of the robots that were closing in around us, even as I also magnetically lifted some miscellaneous metal from all around the room, levitating wrenches, cans, some bolts and pieces of scrap iron into the air around me. “Fuck them up.”
“Yes, sir,” Glacia said, her hair stirring and her fine white coat billowing as she gathered a freezing swirl of air around herself.
“Best. Date. Ever!” Psyren said as she took off her headphones, her eyes crackling electric pink.
With a howling, barking, screeching roar the beasts of Teklin surged towards us. Even as they moved the war machines leveled their weapons, and with a thought I sent out a wave of electromagnetic power. As one the robots jerked, heads sparking, crackling as their circuits overloaded and they crashed back against the walls and floor.
But even as I disabled the machines, I sent the metal I’d gathered around myself flying at the charging monsters in a sudden barrage, checking their advance. Creatures shrieked, yelped and shielded themselves with limbs of any number of sorts. As they fumbled, getting in each other’s way, Psyren extended her hands towards them, a pulse of air throbbing from her.
“Stop!”
The word sent a spike of pain into my head, but the reaction from the monstrous menagerie was even stronger. Like someone had pressed pause every monster froze in place, which was awkward for a few who had been in the midst of leaping, leaving them to fall to the floor like lead weights. Dozens of eyes were instantly riveted on Psyren, and in their pupils began to glow the pink hearts of her domination.
Woah.
I looked at the psychic in shock. “Uh, nicely done,” I told her.
Psyren giggled. “Thanks, boss. But these dumb animals are easy.”
“Still, that’s-“
Glacia suddenly shrieked. I whirled towards her, only to find Flabbius looming behind her, grinning with his too wide mouth. From under his coat surged a mass of tentacles, their rubbery lengths wrapping around Glacia in a crushing embrace.
“Surprised?” he crowed. “Hr hr hr! Don’t be. For I am my master’s greatest creation! Yes! Once I was but a normal fisherman, misunderstood by my fellows who couldn’t understand my obsession with our deep-sea brethren and their beauty! But then I met the master, who granted me all the powers of a squid! Nature’s most lethal and sensuous killer! And now, I will show you what that… that…”
His teeth began to chatter. I felt my skin prickle in a sudden cold. Flabbius looked down at Glacia, who was actually glowing with a nimbus of blue light. Cold fury blazed from her, the moisture in the air around her cracking and popping as it froze.
“How dare you,” she said in a voice as biting as arctic chill.
Flabbius’s jaw slackened in horror as ice began to crawl across his squirming limbs.
“How dare you lay your filthy tentacles on me!” Glacia snapped. “Only one man may touch me, and it is not a disgusting creature like you!”
Glacia jerked her body and the tentacles around her shattered like they were made of glass. Flabbius shrieked in pain as his former captive twisted free and took a quick step away.
“Gyaaaaa! My tentacles! My precious tentacles!” the mutant blubbered.
“Silence!” Glacia said, extending her palm towards him. “I will show you what happens to those who dare touch what is my master’s!” Freezing blue light formed around her palm before firing in a ray at the monster man. It hit him in the chest, and wherever it went ice popped and crackled in its wake, consuming Flabbius in a frozen block.
Within moments the mutant was trapped up to his neck in the ice, his teeth chattering in the cold. Glacia lowered her arm, breathing hard as she looked back my way. “Sir?” she said. “You may observe that I left his head clear, as you instructed.”
“Oh. Uh, great! Good job, Glacia,” I said, coming back to myself.
“Want me to get his monsters to eat him?” Psyren cooed, the pulsing hearts of her eyes mirrored in the monstrous menagerie still held tight in her psychic grasp, their heads turning as one towards the even paler Flabbius.
That was a tempting idea, but not exactly the time for that kind of petty revenge. “No,” I said instead. “Have them go back into their cages.”
Psyren cocked her head but nodded. “Sure, boss. Okay, babies!” she said, beaming at the monsters. “Back in your cages for mommy. ‘Kay?”
On hooves, claws and hands the monsters shuffled backwards as if someone had pressed rewind, their bulks returning to their cells. Once they were all back behind bars I used my magnetic powers to swing the doors shut on them, a twist of the locking mechanism ensuring they weren’t going to be coming back out any time soon.
With that done, I turned my full attention once more to Flabbius. “Alright,” I said, moving in closer. “Now, you’re going to tell us where your boss is.”
“I-I w-will n-never t-t-tell,” Flabbius gasped, trying to grit his teeth even as they chattered from the cold.
“Funny,” I said. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that recently.”
“I am afraid he is most certainly telling the truth.”
I looked down to find the holographic pad still active, Teklin’s wobbling figure looking up at me. With a gesture I lifted the pad with my magnetic powers, making it float before me. “Is that right?”
“Oh yes,” Teklin said. “I’ve made decisively sure of it.”
Oh, I didn’t like the sound of that. I looked back towards Flabbius, and noticed he looked a little ill. He was pale before, but now his face was positively ashen, his saggy flesh looking puffy and his eyes bulging.
In fact, they were bulging like…
“Get back!” I shouted, pushing Psyren and Glacia behind me even as I thrust my hand downward. The metal deck groaned as I ripped the entire section of the floor up, curling it before us to form a shield.
And just in time.
A wet, booming explosion sounded on the other side. Bits of half-frozen meat painted the bulkheads and thudded off the metal I’d yanked up. Ugh! Well, that was pretty gross. I slowly eased the metal back down, revealing chunks of ice and Flabbius now splattered across the walls. A number of cages had been knocked over, some of the monsters within dead or wounded. Others were eagerly eating the chunks of their former jailor that had gotten reach of their cells.
“Fuck,” I cursed.
“Ewwww,” Psyren said, recoiling from the sight.
“Drat,” Glacia said.
“What the fuck!”
Oh, great.
I looked back to find the announcer from my match standing in the doorway, his glasses askew and face puffy as if he were the next one to have a bomb in his brain. Which… wasn’t actually out of the realm of possibility. I circumspectly tried to read him, but aside from the stupid amount of bling he was carrying there were no explosives present. But he had come with two of the rocky bruisers from Arman’s usual crowd, and they looked anything but happy.
“What have you done?” the announcer shrieked. “The monsters! The man! Did you kill him? There’s no killing in the death matches!”
“But isn’t that the definition of a death match,” Psyren observed.
“That’s not what I… I mean, you aren’t allowed to kill contestants or guests outside of the matches! You can’t!”
The two rocky guys who’d come with him stepped up, then immediately stepped back as a gust of freezing air wafted around us. I looked back to find Glacia glaring at them, a crackling of cold blue light illuminating her, freezing power spitting in the air.
“You will not lay a hand on sir,” she said.
“Yeah. Or are you looking to make us angry?” Psyren said sweetly, her eyes glowing and the air around her humming and tinting pink.
“Look, everyone? Just calm down,” I said quickly before things escalated again. “It wasn’t us.”
“That it wasn’t!”
The announcer yelped and scurried out of the way as Think Tank strolled up through the door, his harmonic head buzzing with the bars of his voice.
“I saw it all. The human who’d made the intelligent decision to try and escape his [REDACTED] humanity by combining it with a much more noble creature, the squid, attempted to attack our guest and his female companions first. And I was not disappointed by their display of power, or the extremely visceral end of their opponent. It was a sight that made my circuits sing in delight! The only thing that could have made it better was if more [REDACTED] humans realized the pointlessness of their own existence and [REDACTED] themselves with equal violence.”
“That’s… that’s crazy!” the announcer said. “That can’t be what happened.”
“Of course it can! I recorded it from the ship’s security system. I was looking forward to [REDACTED] to it in the privacy of my own lair. Shall we watch?”
The bars of Think Tank’s screen face suddenly blanked, and instead we got an excellent view of my encounter with Flabbius and Teklin play out. It was all there, much to my surprise. I stole a glance at the announcer, who looked much too pale for a guy whose job was watching people beat each other to death for the amusement of the rich and fanciful. Though I could see where he was coming from. Having your guests kill each other always reflected badly on the host, and if someone needed to take the blame for this one, it wouldn’t be Arman. Oh no. That’s what middle management flunkies are for.
The two stone men who’d come up with him were clearly thinking the same thing, having relaxed now that there was no chance of having to take on me and the girls. But I did catch a wince at the moment when Flabbius’s head exploded. That was a sight for only the strongest stomachs.
“And there you have it!” Think Tank said. “An excellent end. Wouldn’t you agree?”
He turned his flashing face my way. Well, I wasn’t going to contradict him right there. He’d just saved me from maybe having to fight my way out of here.
“Exactly,” I said before looking back to the seething announcer. “Anything else?”
“Ffffffine!” the announcer barked before jabbing an accusing finger my way. “But you are banned from the Nights! You and your children. And your children’s children! Banned!”
“Yeah, alright,” I said. As if I planned on ever setting foot on this rusting hulk ever again. “Girls? Let’s go.”
“See ya,” Psyren said, putting her dampener headphones back on and blowing a mocking kiss at the announcer and his thugs. Who, I couldn’t help but notice, blushed despite his obvious rage.
“Thanks again,” I told Think Tank as we passed.
“Not at all! I look forward to our future endeavours. I’m sure they’ll be [REDACTED],” he said.
“Uh, yeah. Me too,” I said as I led the girls back across the floor and towards the exit. I shook my head.
Hell of a night.