Spike: I don't wanna settle down! I wanna watch spellbreaking!
Sister Patience: Peace, child. Come now, it's story time.
Spike: That's a big book.
Sister Patience: Isn't it? It's one of my favorites. It's very old, yes? It's a book full of fairy tales and stories from all around the world. While the words of the Goddess are most important, I do believe that these tales connect everyone, no matter where they come from, and can take us to specials places by picturing them in our mind.
Spike: Why?
Sister Patience: Well, I suppose tales of heroes and monsters and adventures are something we all share as a people, whether we're here in New York or as far as China. No matter who you are, you may find some similarity between them. It reminds oneself that the Goddess made us all different, and yet we share the same dreams, and hopes, and...oh I'm getting ahead of myself! Now, let's turn the page and let's see what story we'll be telling today. Ah...here is one...
There was once a king of the forest, a great and mighty stag, who bore a son. Though the son was seen as the heir to the kingdom of the great forest, he did not grow horns when he came of age. The other creatures of the forest made fun of him for this, though the King's loyal guardsmen--including the foxes, the rabbits, the bulls, and the hawks--promised to keep the son safe. Yet, the young deer felt abandoned by his father, who taught his gaurdsmen the ways of protecting the forest, but overlooked him.
And so, one day, the son went wandering...towards the sound of howling wolves...
World Tour Arc
7:00 AM - Zeus paws my face. He mews. "You have enough food in your bowl." Meow. "Ugh. Furry bastard."
I guess I'm up now.
7:15 AM - Attend to the real master of the house, more powerful than my father, the other thunder god. That's settled. Brush teeth. Shower. I wonder if I can fit in some 'personal time' in bed, but I gotta' get going. I look in the mirror. I guess I sort of look like dad, huh? Sure am I handsome bastard like him, but mom's genes gave me dark hair instead of blonde, and made me a bit too pretty in the eyes and lips. Still, my skin is clear. The acne plague of my teens might be receding.
I smile. "You're a bad, bad man, Buck Tamberly."
I almost believe it. I put on a plaid shirt, jeans, and my cowboy boots. The best spellbreaking fed in the world can't run itself, y'know?
7:30 AM - Dad's already at the gym. Looks like he took my recent feedback on board and tried to make us breakfast...if you can call these charred, dry, black square on my plate 'breakfast'. These days, outside of dinner, dad talks to me almost exclusively in yellow sticky notes. He's given me a few tasks to work on today.
I glance at the burnt toast in horror, and fix myself a bowl of cereal and orange juice. More pats for Zeus. Stack the plate on top of a mountain of dishes. It's a war of attrition between dad and I to see who will give first and do them. We haven't done much wrestling together lately, so I guess this is sort of our longstanding match.
7:45 AM - Another hot Texas morning in the outskirts of San Antonio. Some wild west this place turned out to be. Out yonder by the dorms, I see Sanjay and some new recruits scurrying on ahead to the gym. I'd like to go there myself right now and do some reps, but I have work to do. These lights don't stay on by themselves, and it sure as hell ain't my daddy who's balancing the books to keep it that way!
7:55 AM - My office is my cozy, private world. I water my plant babies, making a note to check out how my other 'projects' are going in the community garden. I put on the new record Victor got me. Some dirty reggaeton. It's a bit early in the morning for hot music like that, but I don't care. It gives me energy. A cup of strong black coffee with a mound of sugar in it later and I am ready to run my dad's kingdom in his stead.
8:00 AM - You'd be bored to death if I told you how many goddess-damn spread sheets I have to fill out on the regular. I wish technology would get faster so we could do this on machines, like the kinds the US government has, instead of by print-calculator and hand. There's a lot I'd like to have, though. A better air conditioning unit. A less busy girlfriend (or devilishly handsome boyfriend). A damn glyph....
...Pretend you didn't see that.
Dad says magick ain't all its chalked up to be. Non magi (the 'bereft', if you want to be an archaic sounding asshole about it) always say their lives could be better if they could conjure the elements at will. Dad's always harping on how it takes energy out of you, how it lowers your lifespan (gee, thanks for soothing my anxiety, dad) and all sorts of stuff I almost half-believe. He does his best, I know. But in my heart, deep down, I know it would have been a lot easier on him if I had been born with magick. I guess I inherited that from Mom as well...though she never needed magick to be scary or powerful.
I wonder how she's doing these days...
8:25 AM - More bills to pay. I cannot understand how a man who was once the premier athlete in his sport could be so damn bad at math! But that's always me, the one cleaning up dad's messes while he's out there running the show. It's not so bad. I could never be as outgoing as him. I'm more cool and reserved.
I like my work. I like that it helps people. I like that I get to meet amazing spellbreakers with all sorts of personalities...and muscles, and great boobs (of either gender). Sometimes I do wish I could be more like them though. I'm sure dad wanted that too. Don't get me wrong, he's a good guy. He tries his best. I just don't think he ever got the whole 'father' thing down right. Not yet...
Payroll isn't til Friday so that can wait another day, but there's two guys of ours who have to be processed special since they're currently 'on loan' overseas. Now, I'll let you in on a secret. Dad says he doesn't like sending our fighters to other feds unless he thinks they're 'top dollar', and can act as ambassadors of the GSA. While this is mostly true, that doesn't apply to the two members of our roster currently absent.
Let's just say there's a reason he and I have bestowed them with the unofficial tag team 'the Prodigal Nightmares'. Not really a tag though. Those two brains of theirs would likely cancel each other out if they tried to actually team up, but they do have a habit of getting into trouble together. And often.
Dad sent them away because, while talented as hell, those two are absolute terrors. One was the former champ. The other, too powerful for his own good. The former champ is a delightful psychopath and one of my faves. The other is hot as hell and cool as ice, but always thinking with his fists or...certain other body parts of his. Dad needed to get them out of his hair, but something tells me we'll be hearing from them again real soon...
Moving on, I tear open a letter on the desk. I know who it is from based on the address, before I even read the name. John Henry Iron. AKA Mr. Iron. A giant of iron with a heart of gold. I miss him. He's such a good guy to have around, and...honestly...sometimes acted even more of a dad than my actual Dad.
Dear Colt,
How ya been, brother? I got your message. You'll find my teaching re-certification enclosed. I'll need to have a talk with Sandra before I finalize anything, but if I can get away for a few months, I'd be happy to come down and get this thing going.
Things are quiet in Manhattan. For once. Varla has pulled back a little as Laura starts school. She's not happy about it, but I think it'll be good for her. For them both.
I'll reach out as soon as I have an answer. Stay safe. Tell your good son, I said 'hi'. And go a little less hard on him!
Warmest,
J.H.I.
I remove the certification, check for the signature and notary, and immediately file it where it needs to go. I make a note for dad. I'm sure he'll be pleased as punch. I know I am. John Henry brings lightness and order wherever he goes. Plus, he keeps dad's ego in check.
It's mundane work today, but there's a big smile on my face. I love Mr. Iron. It would be great to have him down here, teaching. Besides, I know Spike would by really happy too.
Huh, I really do think about that little twerp a lot, don't I?
8:30 AM - I'm making good time today! Ok, let's look at some contracts. I love doing correspondence and scheduling with other feds (besides Firebird). Bad spelling. Grammatical errors. Ridiculous proposals. You start to feel really competent when you realize just who's in charge of all these promotions. Spellbreaking really hasn't come that far from the days when it was all circus sideshow.
This communication is from Okami, though, and they're a dream to work with. Always very professional. Also, being Japanese, they go through translators who actually know how to string a proper sentence together. I know dad's been excited to work with them for awhile since they traded Kengo to us (and wow, has it been awesome to see his progress!) Looks like we're going to be trading one of ours to them. I wonder which one of the boys...
!!!
No, not one of the boys...
One of the ladies.
My lady.
Well, not my lady, we never did get around to defining what we were. But there it is. In black and white. Signed and sealed.
Rosa is going to Japan.
I'm tackled from both sides by emotions. The first: I'm so damn happy for her. She's fought like hell. She's one of the best spellbreakers we have, even at her level, and I kept telling dad this. Maybe it finally got through to him. Couldn't have been easy. She's like a daughter to him, I know (maybe she could have been a daughter-in-law...) Dad's oblivious to just about everything, and though I never told him, I think he knew we were kind of a thing. This is great news.
But there's the other side of the coin. I feel like someone's just stabbed my in the chest. I feel betrayed. Why didn't she tell me? She's always so open. I try to be open with her too. Now, she's leaving Texas. Off to Japan. I know her and I know myself; we're not prepared to do a long distance thing.
I lean back in my office chair and cover my face with my hands. "Oh my Goddesss..." I'm annoyed. I need to hit something. Fuck this. Work can wait.
9:35 AM - "Oh, does that hurt? That's too bad. Because..."
I jump from to the top rope and slam the practice dummy into the canvas. The crash echoes across the walls of the practice ring.
"I was just getting started, jobber." I'm in my short shorts and cut-off tank. Not exactly a spellbreaker. But when my eyes meet my reflection in the mirror, all full of cold anger, I know I'm not one to fuck with.
I'm also an idiot. Glad none of the others boys are here to see me in the ring. They'd wonder what the hell I'm doing. Sure, there's some niches on the market for what they're calling 'professional wrestling' (which is a confusing name, for one). It's basically spellbreaking without the spells. Non-magi like me.
Ol' Buck, without his father's gifts...
"Oh, you thought I was done?" I slam my fist into the dummy's face. And I don't stop. I picture the prettyboy in my head, getting less prettier each time I break another part of his jaw. That's what I feel like doing right now—taking something away from someone. Their looks. Their power. Their freedom.
Don't get me wrong. No dark thoughts in Rosa's direction. I'd only ever fight a woman in the ring, and to be honest, my 'girlfriend' was not someone I'd ever pick a fight with. That's what I liked about her. She was sweet. Caring. But an absolute devil in the ring. I know a lot of you dudes out there mostly drool over guys, and I don't blame you (look at the studs I work with on the regular!) but she was something else. She was power. She was...
"Fuck!" I wince and pull back my fist. Hit the stupid dummy too hard and now I just probably broke my knuckle. I'm being dramatic. I can see Mr. Wheeler about if I'm really concerned.
"Fuck this," I spit, leaving my 'KO'd opponent' to get scraped off the mats by the crew. "And fuck all you losers too." I step out of the ring and flip off the invisible audience. It's good to be bad.
Bad Buck? Nah, doesn't stick...
What, you thought I'd be a hero like my daddy? Sure, he's tough, but he's boring. All those cute guys he gets his hands on, and he could really play with them like I would...but he doesn't. Mr. Wonderful. My dad. Gotta' love him. How could you not? But it's so much more fun to play rebel. I know it would piss him off! Would definitely get his attention...
I'm slurping some water from the fountain when I hear the ring door open. My eyes widen in embarrassment. Shit. At least they didn't walk in on me when I was in-ring...I'd never live that down. I turn, glaring at who dared come in.
Spike's pretty face, perpetually starry eyed, glows from across the room.
That million-dollar smile. "Oh, Buck!"
My little ray of sunshine. I wonder how many hearts he's broken with that smile. You just can't help but feel good around Spike. He's like a golden retriever, and probably just as intelligent. No brain; no headache. Just vibes.
He's also got an ass shaped by the hand of the Goddess herself.
Dad's been real clear what would happen to me if I messed with any of the roster (which is a bit hypocritical, and maybe even a bit biphobic of him, considering he's gotta' be sure as shit I've been shacking up with Rosa). What I'd give for just one night with the Pinup Prince. That body. That kind of feminine, kinda rough voice. He's a walking contradiction. I would change his life...
Which is why I always have to play it cool around him. Tease him. Keep him off my scent. I walk over to him, arms crossed, a smirk that cut granite plastered across my face.
"Hey, dweeb," I tell him. "Ain't you supposed to be at the promo shoot?"
Dad's got us taking new promo pics for this World Tour we got coming up. A real headache. Gloria, our photographer, and the best in the business, is on campus today orchestrating the whole thing (one less task for me to worry about). Of course, there's a fine line between talent and insanity, and Gloria toes it well. She's a basket case, but her work is excellent.
Spike scratches his head and plays with his hair in that cute way he probably doesn't even realize. "Oh...that's right. I was just looking for Joseph. I thought he'd be here. He trains at weird hours."
I cock an eyebrow at that odd remark. "You might as well be trying to track down a damn unicorn," I tell Spike. Wow, his arms are looking bigger these days. He's like a bodybuilder in miniature, with a cherub's face. I hear he's got a reputation. So do I. And how I would love to ruin both of ours even more...
"Joseph is a free spirit," I explain. "He comes and goes and has no set schedule. Dad gives him free reign." The damn prettyboy champ. Sure, White Tiger is one of the best spellbrekers and our longest running champ, but I hate how dad always prioritizes the babyfaces. I miss Deadboy. Deadboy sure was a hell of a lot fun when he was the champ. Even though he did sorta try to take over the GSA and turn us all into his zombie valets...
But I'm sure that was just one of his practical jokes. He wouldn't harm a fly.
A human, however...
"Damn it," Spike pouts. He's so cute when he's upset. Ah fuck it, he's just cute in general. I want to pinch those cheeks of his (both sets). "I wanted to ask him to be my mentor. Everyone's got one now! But..." He sighs. "Ah...fuggedahbout it..."
I bite my tongue. White Tiger's already selected Kengo for mentorship. I would never tell Spike this to his face, but of all his peers, Kengo shows the most aptitude at the moment. But I can't break Spike's heart. I mean, just look at him! It would be like kicking a puppy.
"Maybe he'll be at the photoshoot!" I tell him. I gotta' think fast. Spike has a way of slowly charming the information out of you. He's a lot smarter than he thinks he is. We're screwed if he ever realizes this. Nobody with an ass like that should also be intelligent...it would be simply too much power for one twink.
"By the way..." Spike starts. He bites his lip (I swear, every thing he does is designed to look adorable). "Your dad. Does he...uh...have a girlfriend?"
"Spike, for the last time, aside from messing around with John Henry in the locker rooms...and that Billy twink from years ago...dad is pretty much straight. He's not going to date you."
He turns bright red. Just what I wanted. "N-no! Not that! I mean, hey, if he's..." he shakes his head. "I saw him with a pretty girl at the Vegas show! A...younger girl. Like our age."
Inside, I feel myself suddenly age faster. I let out a long, tired sigh. I've here before. "Go on..."
"She was really pretty! Kind of wore a funky outfit. Lot of lace. Groovy pendent of a sunflower. Said she was a Light magi. I think her name was--"
"Lily!" I finish for him, laughing. I can't stop. Ah no, I snorted in front of Spike! He's going to think I'm such a dork. Wait though, Lily Suarez was over here? How dare she not drop by and say 'hey'! Ugh. Chicks, I swear...
I clear my throat and take back my power. "You himbo, that's my childhood friend! Lily and I went to school together. Colt basically raised her himself. She's one of the smartest damn people I know. Isn't she working for the glyph institute overseas?" Why the hell would she come to a spellbreaking tournament? She always used to think it was silly...
Spike shrugs. "Dunno, but I agree with you about the being very smart thing. Not that I would know what that's like. She sounded really interested in all that weird stuff that's been happening lately."
"Be more specific, twunk." I smile at him. I would never want to hurt Spike's feelings...maybe just put him in a camel clutch and see him squirm a little for me. "What do you mean?"
"Like the accident at the gala. And the accident backstage with the security guard."
"Ah yeah, I heard about that. It is odd." This is the stuff that puts me, already a guy with a healthy level of anxiety, on edge. It's always the handsome ones with the mental illnesses, right?
I don't like that dad's messing with Firebird. Those Russian feds are crooks. Like the mafia. In bed with weirdos like the Alchemists. Dad think's he's invincible. A hero. Sometimes I believe it. But if Lily is worried about recent events...
I do what I do best and that is...change the subject. I grab my gear bag. "Hey, I'll walk you over to the shoot." I make a deliberate point to check my wrist watch, even though I know (with my impeccable organization skills) the shoot won't be for another half hour...plus a twelve minute spill-over for Gloria, who's always late to things.
Spike looks between me and the ring. "Hey...you look sweaty." He grins. "It's very hunky. But what were you doing? Practicin'?
Kill me now. Kill me now. Kill me now. "Uhhhhhhhh...."
"I bet you'd make a great pro wrestler," Spike says, with great enthusiasm. I try to scan his face for the sarcasm. None. "I know it's not as popular as spellbreaking, but hey, not everyone can have a glyph, right? Doesn't mean you can't kick ass. Plus...I'm sure there's plenty of hunky wrestlers too."
It's a little insulting, but I'll let it slide. "Thanks," I say shyly. I feel naked in front of this stud, and not in the way I'd want. Plus, I'm still sore over the news about Rosa. "So, the studio. Let's go! Maybe we can grab a coffee at the canteen. My treat?"
"Oh wow!" You think I'd just laid a golden crown on his pretty head (and boy, does a king like that deserve it). "Thanks, Buck. You're the best."
"Tell me something I don't know, Yankee." Not thinking (damn ADD brain) I give Spike a playful tap on the ass. He's wearing work out shorts. Tight workout shorts.
It's like touching the ass of a god. Instant boner. And butterflies too.
Spike blushes. I blush. Oh fuck, what have I done! We don't say anything to each other. In spellbreaking, as in wrestling, it's advantageous to wait for the other guy to make the first move.
I think Spike and I might be staring each other down on the mats for a long, long while...
10:30 - Okay, so let me tell you about Gloria Delgado. She and Dad go way back, and no, I don't think she and Dad were ever an item. Gloria is probably the one woman he would respect too much to make a move. Plus, dad likes a bit of strange, but Gloria is...eccentric.
"HELLO, MY SWEET MUSES!" the curly haired woman with the giant, cat's eye glasses and the leopord print scarf around her neck, says as she throws open the door to the studio space. It nearly breaks off its hinges.
The boys (and Rosa) all shuffle around, half in our gear, half in our civilian attire. The studio space is really just a glorified storage closet with a canvas draped over the back. Imagine fitting a bunch of gym bunnies and muscle guys in there and you can understand why most people loathe promo photo days. That's all coupled with the fact that....in all honesty...most spellbreakers are shy, insecure nerds when not in character. Hard for some of the guys to really bring out their personality in a single frame.
Of course, Iggy, our resident artist, is all smiles. Dressed in green fishnet stockings over his signature pink briefs, he prances over to our fabulous photographer. They shed glittery stardust with each footstep.
"Look, all!" they squeak. "Perfection is here. Look at you, pretty lady! Kisses. Kisses."
"Ah, my best subject," Gloria squeaks back. "How is the weather lately on planet Iggy?"
"Oh you know, same old same old..." They walk off to the back room together. Nobody realizes it but me, but Iggy's a damn genius. He's taken the heat off the rest of the boys. Made them less pressured. They can steel themselves for Gloria's rapid directions later.
I try to not let my eyes wander and my mouth water amid this room of beefcakes. I busy myself by setting up the camera. Rosa is the only one who approaches me. Of course...
"Hey!"
She's all smiles. Like she doesn't know. Fine. I'll play this game. I smile back at her, trying to pretend like nothing's wrong. We talk about getting dinner, but she's got training later (figures). There's nothing in her voice that lets on that she's hiding something. You can always tell when someone's a bit nervous. She's really good. It...hurts.
Gloria comes back before I can hit her with the "Can we talk?" bomb. A deadly finisher, that sentence. No kicking out of that one.
But she's suddenly called to help Calypso with a loose seam. Rosa has her little sewing kit on hand at all times. She's our resident gear doctor. Don't know what these idiots are going to do when she's gone...
The shoot begins. Gloria is all: "Yes, yes, work that angle. Ah, no, you're holding back. No, no. show me your SPIRIT! RIP open your torso, sunder your flesh, and expose the TRUE YOU! Bring forth the wild beast within! YES! That's it! More passion!"
I generally love watching giant men suffer, but even this is too much. Eventually, El Amante and Iggy have to push poor Kengo in his little fundoshi out in front of the camera. He looks bright red, hunched over, shy. Mind you, I have seen this man toss two guys out of a ring in one go and not bat an eyelash...
"Look at YOOUUUU," Gloria says, arms gesticulating wildly to Kengo's handsome bulk. "My delicious, beefy burrito with guacamole on the side. That face! That body! The camera melts, Kengo!"
I try to open my mouth to tell her to dial it down, but there's no stopping her. Her encouragement is overwhelming. Kengo looks like he's going to die. I worry his bear spirit might emerge and freak out on everyone if this keeps up. Minoru can be...very defensive of his soul-bonded partner.
Kengo swallows. He looks over at me. "I...am...not use to this."
"It's okay, bud!" I tell him. But I don't even believe my own encouragement. I look over at Spike, pleadingly. Tag in, tag in!
What's interesting about Spike is that he always has this kind of perpetually curious, almost blank expression on his face. I think that's why people call him a 'himbo'. But really, I believe his brain and my mine are very similar. It's not that he's absent of thoughts....it's quite the opposite. He's always thinking. Overthinking...
But when a situation arises that calls for quick action...well...you should see his face light up. That's when he looks like a babyface hero, ready to step in and take action.
"Hey, Kengo!" Spike, still dressed in his sweats and baseball T-shirt, jump in and places his hands gently on Kengo's meaty shoulders (and yes, it's adorable that he has to reach up to do so). "Here, turn your body out like this. Let's see a hint of that butt."
"S-S-SPIKE!" Kengo stammers. He takes a deep breath. "Oh...okay."
My eyes narrow. Was it magick that Spike used, or something else? Whatever his power, Kengo relaxes. Maybe there really is something in that Yankee boy's smile...
Arms crossed over chest, Kengo's whole personality shifts from demure to confident, ass-kicking sumo (with a great ass). It's editorial.
Gloria loses it. "Y-YES! This is what I LIKE TO SEE! Oh, Kengo, you sexy, beefy little gyoza. The camera wants more. FEED THE CAMERA! Yes. Turn! Look at that healthy butt."
Surrounded by morons and maniacs who could wipe out the entirety of the Texas army. And I'm the guy who processes their payroll. That's me.
The shoot continues. Spike's next. "What, MY turn?" He's fake shy, transparently so. I'm not the only one who rolls their eyes as he approaches the camera. "Oh, but I'm so bad at this, you know..."
I have never seen a man drop his pants faster, or whip off his shirt. My eye roll quickly turns into an eye bulge. Spike is a cutie out of costume too, but when you see him in his natural glory...well...you realize why people call him the Pinup Prince. I wish I were a poet and not an artist—to describe his body. It's like...if the Statue of David had stunted growth from drinking too much coffee.
Told you I wasn't a poet.
Every flex. Every pose. Perfect. Spike's eyes shine, somewhere between hero and homme fatale. The bad boy gone good. To make things worse, his skimpy briefs (I won't elaborate; I'll keep it clean) are the ones I gave him for his birthday. The navy blue velvet with the white anchor. I designed them. Rosa fabricated them.
He must have caught me staring. As Spike lowers his arm from his signature, single bicep flex, he looks over at me. His confidence wavers. He blushes.
What...no. Buck, don't get your damn hopes up. This bite-size warrior angel is surrounded by Greek gods. What makes you think he'd ever toss a wanting glance in your direction, tom-cat?
Thankfully, Gloria's endless fawning over her subjects derails my self-deprecating train of thought. "Oh my, Spike, you bite-sized, sugar dusted, cinnamon donut. I think might ned to put you in my pocket and take you back to San Francisco. You know how to bring out all the right angles."
Hands on hips, massive pecs pushed out, Spike smiles like the damn hero he is. "Aw shucks. Thanks, ma'am. I have a lot of experience!"
I hate to feed his ego, but it's damn true. Spike is a like a sun. Everyone seems drawn by his light, or orbits around him. He brings out the energy in people, turning shy bearcubs into sumo studs, and even making flamboyant narcissists like Iggy Astro take note.
Speaking of which, I've noticed a slight shift in their communications with each other. Used to be, Iggy would enter a room and Spike would suddenly make an excuse to use run away to the bathroom. Now? Those two get off to each other's teasing and threats.
"You look like a little boy playing around in his underwear."
"At least I'm actually wearing real gear...and don't look like I'm about to jump out of a cake for drunken women to throw dollars at."
"Hm. I think perhaps I will chokeslam you into this floor right now and end your miserable life."
"Do it. But you better sit on my face."
"YOU better sit on my face."
And then the shared laughing, usually with Iggy snatching Spike in a headlock (maybe just a little tighter than necessary) and giving him a noogie. It's...disgustingly adorable. And just a bit hot too?
"What about you, Buck?"
I look up from the camera. I was just about ready to take the tripod down. "We're done," I tell Spike. Half the guys have already left, eager to get out of the room as quick as possible. Rosa's already gone off to Gio's offensive magick class.
Spike points to the camera in front of me. "I know you're aren't on the roster, but why don't we see you strut yourself too!"
Is...this just an excuse to see me in gear? I play it cool. Dad always told me how to make sure what's going on inside doesn't show on your face. "Since when am I speallbreaker, Spike? Don't waste Gloria's film."
"WASTE!?" the curly haired woman gasps. It's like I spit in her face. "It would be a privilege to capture the handsome—yet roguish—countenance of the heir to the Tamberly spellbreaking dynasty."
"Eh..." I scratch my head and smile. I would like to die. Spike, what was that you said about sitting--
"Come on," Spike says, "don't you got gear?"
Well, yes? "Er...just some black training trunks in my gym bag? But I-"
"Hmmm wait a moment. Let me grab something from the costume chest."
Spike runs off before I can stop him. I hate to see him go, but damn, do I love to watch him leave. I'm an artist, but not even I could sculpt a butt like his.
I check my watch. I'm late for my next thing. There's a reason why I keep a schedule. Still, when a pretty boy asks you to take off your pants and flex for him, you don't say no. Spike returns with a leather jacket with copious amounts of fringe, somewhere between genuinely badass and a bit costumey.
"Hey, I recognize that!" I take the jacket. Heavier than it looks. "One of dad's gear designers made it for him but he never used it. Said, 'Only villains wear dark colors like that.'"
Spike gives me his heart-breaking smile. "Well. Are you a bad boy, Buck."
The beast inside me suddenly hungers, but I hold my tongue, giving Spike a sly, mischievous look. I feel self-conscious stripping down in front of him, so I disappear behind the canvas and slip into my black trunks, boots, and this leather jacket number.
"Well. How do I look?"
Spike and Gloria both look like I just whipped it out and pissed on the floor.
I bit my lip. "Oh...not good?"
Spike opens his mouth to say something, but Gloria gets there first.
"OH, MY PRECIOUS BUCK! YOU TALL SLICE OF DARK, GERMAN CHOCOLATE CAKE. LOOK AT YOU! You already have an attitude for the camera. Yes, give us a mean look, go on now!"
She snaps away. I try not to panic.
"Er...Like this?" I put my hands on my hips and glare. Growing up around spellbreakers, you know how to capture the look of a promo. It's second nature to me. I study details in posters and fliers that most people miss, but they all really do add up. A bunch of subtle things making a greater whole.
"Shit..." Spike finally says.
I break from my icy stare at my invisible victim. "It's...shit!?"
"NO! I mean...." Spike is stuttering. I've never seen him do this before. I've also never seen him compose himself and not look like a good ball, pinup slut, or a badass fighter. Whatever this Spike whose looking at me and smiling at me now...I want to see more of him.
"Buck, you totally look like a real, sexy heel."
I'm taken aback. But I don't show it. Instead, I give him a dark look and a sneer that cut burn this whole studio down. "Dman, boy. I am a real, sexy heel." Not entirely sure what's come over myself, I drop the jacket to the ground and flex both my biceps, looking at myself like I'm the hottest thing since Colt 'The Bolt'. "And I don't even need magick to know that."
It's a whopper, but it lands. "Damn..." I hear Spike squeek. And...cross his legs?"
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind Gloria. I...do look badass. Well, I look like a badass who isn't as jacked and muscular as most of these studs. A badass with promise. Pity I don't have a glyph of my own. Always in the office, doing my best to make these boys look good, when I should be out there outshining them all. This sport doesn't know what it's missing...
But, the universe likes to put cocky guys like me in its place. Next thing I now, dad's standing there, having burst through the room in his signature 'look at me!' style.
"Hey, folks, what's..."
There's no hiding. I've been caught in the act. I'd rather dad having walked in on me jerking it to one of the old fliers of Apollo Champion... (there's...precedent for that).
"Oh, Bucky."
"Hi...Dad."
Dad clears his throat. Spike and Gloria are frozen still behind him. Needless to say, the mood in the room has changed.
"What's...with the getup, son?"
"I was just..." I swallow, and pick up the jacket from the floor. "Er...neverm ind."
I'm not sure what Dad is thinking. He looks at me blankly. "Shouldn't you be working on fliers?" But his serious tone drops. "Hahaha! Come on, bad boy. Leave the poses to the professionals."
It's a tone both playful, forgiving, and just a tiny bit backhanded. In other words, how Dad talks to me most of the time.
I look at the ground. "Thanks..." I don't want to look at anybody. I don't even want to punch a wall. I just want to burst into flames. I quickly put my jeans and shirt on and try and duck out of the room before Spike or anybody else says something to me.
As I get to the door, Dad calls back.
"Hey, Bucko."
I wince. "Hm?"
"That fringe don't look half bad on you, son! You pulled it off better than I did when I wore that. And that's a damn fact."
I cock my head to the side and wonder if this is Dad realizing he was a bit of a dick to me a few moments ago. Or...maybe this is encouragement. From him?
"But just remember, there's no way in Hell Colt the 'Bolt' would raise a bad guy!"
I smile. "Thanks."
Heh. We'll see about that, old man...
1:40 PM - After lunch.
Gio and I, in the garden. It's not big. Just a little courtyard space between the canteen and the gym. A few planters. A few pots. Rosa, myself, and Gio are practically the only people who use ot. Surprise, 2/3 have a glyph involving plants.
Hunched over a planter, GIo gently spreads soil. It's calming, watching a giant man like him doing something so serene like this. "The basil is coming in. But there is...eh...not enough."
"We do need more herbs."
"Yes. The tomatoes are looking good, Buck! You would almost think you had the same glyph as me."
"Mmm. Thanks."
"Did Gloria make you tired again? She makes me tired. She is good but..."
"I know, big guy. I know. Poison to us introverts. Sill, she's important. She has a glyph too, you know. It allows her to translate for us when we're abroad. She'll be coming on the tour to photograph and act as our translator."
"Ah!"
"Hey, Gio. Has...Rosa talked to you about anything important lately?"
"Important? Like what?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm...just being weird."
"Hmm." Gio wipes his large hands on his apron and then pats me on the head, like I'm Zeus the cat. "You are not weird, Buck. You just think a lot. You are very important to all of us."
I blink. It's...hard to take a compliment. Especially when you feel like the weakest link out of the whole crew. Still, I smile all the same as I place a succulent into the new pot, its new home.
"Thanks, Gio. I needed to hear that today."
3:30 PM - The day is dying down. I'll be off work soon, out of this musty office.
Working on fliers for the big tour. Reading Dad's notes.
The lines need to be bolder here. I don't like this font; it's too 'side-show'. Put me more front in center on this poster. Make my nose look less big. You need to work on your shading here more. Remember, this is due in a week.
Dad...sure has an interesting way of giving feedback.
Nothing I do ever seems good enough for him. There's always a comment, well-intended or not. He seems short on compliments these days. All this work, hardly a thank-you. Can't go to Vegas. Can't go to to pro school. All because I'm the one who has to run this damn company while its president goes out there strutting around in his underwear...
Someone knocks at the office door.
I wince. I'd kill for a joint right now (but Heaven help me if Dad found out...). "Enter," I say. "If you dare."
Ah, I see we're on a damn lucky streak today. Rosa, ponytail and smiles, enters the room. I'm hit by the smell of her perfume and the undercurrent of a gal who's just been kicking people's ass the last hour or so. The huntress to my apex predator. Or at least, that's what we used to joke to each other.
"Howdy, cowboy," she says. "Sorry, I'd love to stay and chat but...
I've heard this story before...
"I gotta' grab a purchase order form. We're running low on thread. And with the tour coming up I have a feeling I'm gonna be on call a lot for costume emergencies.
I raise an eyebrow. Something's not adding up. I think it's time I ripped the band-aid off here. Thing about anxiety, about knowing you need to have a 'conversation', is that it feels like you're holding a grenade without a pin in your hand. Chuck the damn thing. Let it blow.
I pull Okami's offer from beneath my skull paperweight. "There's no good way to bring this up," I start, trying to sound calm. "But I saw this." I hand her the paper.
She stares at it, perplexed. Several different expressions cross her face. When she's done, she looks up at me and places it on the desk.
"Ah," she says. "Wow. Damn."
"That's it?" I ask her. "When were you going to tell me?"
I regret the accusatory tone. Rosa gives me a 'who do you think you're talking to' look. "Sorry? Buck...I had no idea. Shit..." she breathes out, bewildered. Her hand runs to her ponytail and she begins playing with her hair. A nervous gesture.
"You...didn't know?"
"Not...exactly." She sighs. Whatever she was about to do, it can wait. She takes the seat opposite me but doesn't say anything. Behind her, Zeus sleeps, nestled between a snake plant and an African violet. Ah, to be a cat and not have to worry about navigating relationships.
"Colt asked me if I would be interested in going over to Japan," Rosa says. She looks up. "It wasn't a done deal. I just said I would be interested. I was going to talk to you about it first."
I roll my eyes. "Then why didn't you?"
"I don't know," she shrugs. "But don't act like how you usually do."
"What the hell does that mean, Rosa?"
"I'm not your opponent, Buck," she shoots back. "I'm not trying to hurt you here. You don't need to freeze me out."
She knows me too damn well. It's true. If I feel slighted, a wall goes up. I'm quick to sever ties. "You really didn't know." I make it sound like a statement and a question.
She shakes her head, slowly. "Fuck. I don't know what to do. Colt really just asked me...I didn't think..."
No. That sounds exactly like Dad, king of the mixed motives. I wonder how much of Rosa and I's relations factored into his proposal. "I believe you," I tell her. The next part though, stings the most.
When you learn how to fall, or take a bump, you're basically forcing your body to go against its instincts and what it would normally do to avoid impact. It's like fighting against every cell. What I tell Rosa is...a lot like that. I have to force the words out, because at the end of the day, I know it's the right thing.
"You should go," I tell her.
"I don't need your approval," she says. But it's not mean. She's right, of course. She is her own person. "I know you're not an asshole, Buck. You wouldn't want me to stay just for..." she flits her hand away.
For the undefined, 'not relationship' we're both in with each other? It's true, we never did make it official. Again, love and wrestling are more alike than not. Neither of us was read to make that move. Give it a name.
She smirks. "As if two doms could make it work, anyway, right?"
It stings. I really want to cry. But, the other side of the coin is seeing her get to kick ass.
"Look," she says, getting up. "I need to give it some thought. This is a big deal. I mean, Japan? That's like...the other side of the world. That's crazy."
She's going to take the offer. I already know she is. Still, I appreciate the show of hesitancy. "Hey, let's get dinner tomorrow. You can tell me what ideas you want me to implement in the flier for your final match before you go overseas."
6: 10 PM - Dinner with dad. These dinners together and getting less and less frequent these days.
I'm a half decent cook. Dad could burn water. Gio's been showing me how to make lasagne, so I heat some up from the other night.
"Leftovers, eh," Dad says, pushing around the pasta on his plate with a fork. He sprinkles a generous helping of salt on the lasagne. "Needs more flavor if you're gonna reheat it."
I put my fork down and glare at him but he's too busy chewing and looking at the roster list for the Mexico show coming up, the first stop on this ridiculous world tour. Sounds like a good way to open us up to more of Firebrid's schemes. Or, maybe that's the idea. Dad is either oblivious or playing the part real well. Something tells me, the last few weeks anyway, he's been more involved in looking into Firebird's shady dealings than I first thought.
"Saw Rosa's invitation come in," I tell Dad blankly.
His face brightens. "Oh yeah! Shit, I forgot about that. I hope she takes the offer. She'll be great. A real damn star." He shrugs. "Kinda thought we were never good enough for her anyway. She should have stayed down with Calavera Escarlata's academy."
"But you know how misogynist his school can be, dad."
"Ah, she's a tough girl, Bucky. She could handle it."
I try to restrain my frustration. It is difficult. "Why didn't you tell me about this offer?"
"Huh? Well, I figured you'd find out anyway, and it was just kind of a spur of the moment idea...until it wasn't." He smiles. So confident. So sure all of his choices are the best ones.
For all of us.
"Did...you know about us?" I'm feeling bold. Maybe stupid. It's not smart to anger Dad. He's gentle as a lamb with me, but he can yell some, and it...it can be a lot to deal with.
He straightens his back. He's all business now. "What do you mean, son? That you two had some kinda' puppy love thing going on? Yeah, I knew about it. Didn't say anything because I was thankful you weren't foolin' around one of these big dumb himbos." He returns to playing with his lasgane, pushing it around the plate with his fork. Just eat the damn thing!
"Men are scum," he sniffs. "Take it from me. I used to be a player back in the day. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't have any issue with you messing around with guys. But I know spellbreakers. You'd get your heart broken and I'd have to break the arm of whoever did it to you."
"But you were fine with me and a girl?"
He gives me a hard look. "That's not.." he trails off. Now, he's 'ornery'. "What's all this about, anyway? Would I rather you not date one of our roster? Hell yeah. You know I've been in this business for just about as long as Calavera. I seen what these fed bosses get away with; the shit they do to their own people. You want the truth? I'll give it to you. I think Rosa's salt of the Earth. Would be a privilege to have her as daughter. But it's not a good look for the son of the fed president to be going around courting her. People will get ideas. Think I'm playing favorites. It would become a whole fine mess, son."
The metal of the fork in my hand is getting hotter by the second as I squeeze down on it, trying to hold back my anger.
But Dad doesn't let up once you get him going. "Look. Rosa deserves to shine. I encouraged her to go to Okami. Maybe some of it was about business, yes. But if she turns it down, I wouldn't tell her she was doing wrong. I want her to be happy. I want her to find her path, in her own way. But I also know talent. She's something new. She's going to take this sport in a new direction, and she needs to set out into the big, bad world in order to make that happen."
Dad pisses me off because he speaks the truth, whether you want to hear or not. Yet, there's always the self-serving part to Colt. I wait for the other shoe to drop.
Sure enough... "Besides, Rosa is a Rivera-Rosado, one of the best spellbreaking dynasties out there. Now, I could see how you two would make plenty sense. The Prince of spellbreaking and the Princess getting together. Hell, that would make one great storyline. But that's a fairytale, Buck. You know what would really happen? Guys would get jealous. El Amante would get weird and protective. And then...what happens if you broke up, huh? What kinda' fallout does that leave me to smooth over?" He shakes his head, radiating disappointment.
I slam down the fork as I sit up. Dad doesn't even flinch.
I glare at him. "I need to take a walk."
He stares me down like I'm one of his opponents. "You do that, son."
7:10 PM - The air is getting cooler. The sky is clear and starry. Insects sing. Fall is just around the corner now.
Though about going back to the training ring and kicking the shit out of that dummy some more. Instead, I've been doing circles around campus, weaving in and out of barns and buildings, trying to keep my head on straight.
It's too much. Rosa. The world tour. The expectation to perform or to put out good work. Dad is demanding, and he says it's because he wants people to succeed. I know the truth. It's because he wants to look good. I think not becoming Global Champion (which he could have been, easily) gave him a complex.
Or maybe I'm just looking for flaws to be mad at. It's easy to love Colt.
It's hard to be his son.
Must be hallucinating. I'm hearing music. Soft guitar. Androgynous, angelic vocals. I follow the sound to the fence outside the dorms.
Quiet nights of quiet stars
Quiet chords from my guitar
Floating on the silence that surrounds us...Iggy Astro, in torn jeans and a pink crop top beneath a green flannel, sits on the fence and strums along on their guitar. They don't see me. I stand and listen, knowing they'll stop once I get closer. Something about being the boss' son...it puts people on their best behavior. It also has the tendency to make them self-conscious. Even pathological divas like Astro.
I wait for them to finish. They sigh, and mutter something underneath their breath in Portuguese. It's weird to see them....sad? Longing? I've noticed Victor, El Amante, not hanging around them as much. It's weird, you know. When they started dating, they were attached at the hip. If El Amante wasn't at the level he was, Dad would have been pissed off. But if he likes you, Dad let's you get away with a lot.
Iggy, ever perceptive, notices me. "Oh, it's the handsome Buck."
I smile. Being a bad guy is effortless for Iggy. So is being nice. I wish I was like that, scary and lovely. "Hey, Iggy. You already know this, but your guitar skills are awesome. I wish I could play guitar like you."
He laughs musically. "If you could, you'd have to beat the girls and boys away with sticks. You would simply be too powerful, kitten."
He's beautiful. Or they. Ugh, a bisexual's dream. Someone who could be either gender, or neither. Wish all of humanity was like that. They're would be a hell of a lot less war...
"I'll leave you alone. I was just out for a walk."
They cock their head to the side, letting his long, gorgeous pink hair fall over his shoulders. I immediately push out the desire to have a crush on him. "You look..." he pauses. "Hm. Are you okay?"
"Just tired from work," I lie. Well, it's not exactly a lie.
"I was just out here waiting for someone," he says, resting the acoustic guitar in his lap. He holds up his hand. "Four...three...two...one..."
At the end of the path, the door to the dorms swings open. Spike stands there. "Ice cream time!" he declares excitedly to no one.
Iggy and exchange a knowing and amused look, either of us trying not to giggle.
"Doo doo doo, ice cream time...do do doooo." Spike notices us and freezes. "Oh..."
"Off to the commissary?" I say, smiling at him.
Iggy licks his fingers. "Vanilla...or strawberry?"
He looks between me and Iggy. "Uh...am in trouble?"
"No, kitten," Iggy laughs, hopping off the fence.
"You're...not gonna break that guitar over my head, are ya?"
"And waste it on your empty noggin?" Iggy shoots back. "How did your talk with Joseph go?"
Spike sighs. "He said he would be honored to be my mentor...before telling me had already picked Kengo." The sailorboy crosses his arms, pouting. "Cian has Gio. Blue Dragon has Viki. I can't think of anybody else to ask now..."
A glowing construct in the shape of a neon lightbulb appears over Iggy's head, nearly blinding me and causing me to yelp. "Oh, but I can," Iggy starts, wickedly. He bows gracefully for Spike. "I know you would just love for me to be your mentor," he says, before sinisterly narrowing his eyes. "And I know you won't tell your favorite bad guy 'no'. Even you are smarter than that."
Spike is taken aback. Suddenly I forgot what I was mad about. "M-me? But. I'm the rising babyface king of the GSA! My mentor can't be a heel! It's...it's not tradition!"
"Fuck tradition," Iggy says. He puts down the guitar, dissipates his 'light bulb' and takes Spike's hands in his. "Let's be little rebels together, kitten. You are so talented. I could teach you so much more. We play our roles well, sure, but who cares? What did I tell you back in Vegas?"
Spike suddenly looks embarrassed. What...did happen in Vegas, I wonder now? "That shadow can't exist without light. And light can't shine brighter without darkness."
"Exactly," Iggy says. "You said that you were trying to expand your magick, yeah? Trying to work on your energy barrier. I can help you. Light is just energy. It works the same as your force magick. It's tricky, but I can show you how to make it work." He smiles. It's...one of the rare times I haven't seen him pull an 'evil' smile. If this is a work, he's damn good at it. I sense it's not.
I know what lonely eyes look like. Iggy is...he wants company. A student. An admirer. I forget how far away from his home they are some time...
I'm not sure if it's because Spike is scared of saying no, or he's actually interested. He looks briefly over at me before nodding his head with enthusiasm. "Okay! Especially if it means we can hang out more."
That's the thing about this industry. One day, you're literally kicking the organs out of your opponent, the next day, you're best friends. Or vice versa.
"Well," Iggy says, sing-song like, picking up their guitar, "now that this is settled...I am off to go put some cucumbers over my eyes." He blows a kiss to us both. Boa noite, handsomes."
8:00 PM -
"This is the last item on my schedule, Spike."
"Then I'm glad I'm here to help, Buck!"
"Ugh, it's no fair. You can carry both those boxes in either arm!"
"And you...can't? Come on, Buck, you're strong too! You have nice muscles."
"Not as nice as yours."
"Iggy told me that 'comparison is the thief of joy'. I still don't know what that means, but he'd probably say that right about now."
"Yeah...hey, did Rosa tell you about..."
"Okami? Yeah. She did. Can I be honest?"
"With me? Always."
"I'm...I'm afraid to lose my best friend here."
"Same. Ugh, there's going to be too much testosterone around with her gone, Spike! I can't stand it."
"...Can I ask a question?"
"Just ask it, Yankee."
"Were you two like...a thing?"
"Not so himbo after all, are you? Yes. We were. But...it was just a silly thing."
"I don't think love is silly."
"It wasn't love. Maybe it was...the early stages. I dunno. I've had some girlfriends in the past, but we never to got that point."
"...Have you ever had a boyfriend?"
"Not yet, but I think after this...yeah, I'd be open to it. It's hard to explain. Men and woman are very different. And very alike. Hey, can I ask you a question, Spike?
"Shoot."
"You and Iggy. Las Vegas. Well?"
"GAH! Okay yeah, we hooked up. But to be fair, I was really horny."
"You're always really horny."
"I kinda' had a crush on them for a moment, Buck. But then I remembered him and Victor. And I don't need a giant luchador coming after me..."
"After, or 'on'?"
"Aw, Buck, gross! Hahaha. I mean, sure..."
"Those two are open, anyway, Spike. He'd probably encourage it. Hell, you could have worked your way into a threesome...but that would have probably killed you. Then again, it is you we're talking about here."
"Are you coming on the tour with us, Buck?"
"Parts of it. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, just..."
"..."
"..."
"Do you want to hang out sometime, Spike?"
"Yeah. I'd like that a lot! Hey, here's the last of the boxes. I should go back. Kengo and I are doing leg day in the morning."
"Ah, gotcha. Well, thanks for your help. Have a good night, Spike."
"You too, Buck."
"...There he goes. I wonder what he thought I meant when I said we should 'hang out'. Shit, what did I even mean?"
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