Chapter 5: Wildcard Rumble

"I know why you're really doing this, cowboy," Mr. Iron said from his comfortable position on the dressing room couch. 

Colton Tamberly adjusted his bolo tie in the dressing room mirror, trying to ignore the signs of aging on his handsome face. There were lines there, yes, and it was a bit hard to accept that the years had slowly begun to catch up with him. Even when he was in his thirties, Colt had always felt young. Naïve. The perpetual adolescent. It was as if he'd blinked and suddenly, here he was, a man and a father...and not just to one wayward son, but many other difficult children.

Funny enough, it was one of Colt's recent hires, a certain effete muscle stud named Spike, who had made him feel a bit better about the reflection staring back at him. That kid from New York was like sunshine on a rainy day. He'd jokingly call Colt 'daddy' whenever Colt slipped and made fun of himself because of his age. Colt knew he should reprimand the kid for marking out over him (Spike never hid the fact that he was a huge fan of his) but the truth was that Spike really had the knack for making someone feel appreciated.

"Still got it," Colt said, giving himself the finger guns. He turned to his longtime companion. "How do I look?"

Mr. Iron sighed. He was in no mood to inflate his former tag partner's ego. "I'm serious, Colt. I know how you operate. An open slot on your roster this late into the year? Why'd you do it? Come on, man. You can trust me."

"Grrrr." Colt's shoulders dropped, as did his head. He dragged his hand through his hair, more wavy than usual due to the Mexican humidity. The heat made him ornery, but not as much as being called out by the one person on the Goddess' green Earth who could get him to spill his guts. 

No use hiding it. "Wildcard match was meant to pick out new talent," Colt sniffed. He abandoned the mirror and made for the bottle of brandy on the table. He poured himself and Mr. Iron a glass. "You want the truth? I'll give it to ya. I'm looking for more firepower to add to the GSA arsenal. This ain't about putting on a killer world tour no more." He gave his friend a hard look. 

Mr. Iron raised his eyebrows. "Did...Lily tell you why I came back?"

"Miss Suarez didn't need to tell me diddly squat. I been on Firebird's case since the gala in San Antonio." He sighed, long and heavy. "They're up to something. I need strong men and women at my back. Sure, I got some, but I want to cover all my bases. Joseph is my all-star, and I have Gio and El Amante, and hell, you. But I know how Firebird operates. I don't want my kids hurt."

"Kids," John Henry laughed. But it was not at Colt's expense. "You want a soldier. Is that it?"

"Icewolf and Deadboy went rogue," Colt said in a quiet voice. "I blame myself. Didn't give them the support they needed."

"Uh...Colt. Deadboy tried to take over the GSA by turning y'all into zombies."

Colt shrugged. "Aw, shucks, John, I used to do dramatic shit all the time at his age. He's a good kid."

"He's a dark mage!"

"And I'm a farm boy," Colt said, stern. "We are not bound by circumstance, my friend. What did you once say...my heart was as big as my muscles? Well, I'm not sure if I believe that. I can be a real asshole sometimes. But I always give my spellbreakers the benefit of the doubt. Whether or not Icewolf comes through tonight, he's gonna get all the support in the world from me, now. He'd be forgiven. Kid just needs direction. And a powerhouse like T. Rex would be an an absolute boon to have in this fight."

Mr. Iron nodded, though whether or not he fully agreed with his partner...it was hard to tell. He looked over at the janky, metal fan swivelling around the dressing room table. "So tonight is about seeing which one has what it takes to become your new Spartan. That it?"

Colt threw back the brandy. It stung real good. "I turn people into weapons, Johnny. Right now? I need a pretty damn big arsenal. Firebird used to be friendly rivals. Now? There's something about them that don't sit right with m

e." He looked over at his friend.

Their eyes met.

John Henry could no longer conceal the truth from his good friend. "Look, Colt," he said, placing his glass of untouched brandy on the table. "I don't know what Lily or Salim have told you yet, but there's something I need to come clean about. You're right on the money about Firebird. But..." He took a deep breath. "You ever heard of something called a Divine Chalice?"

Iggy had to admit that the venue was nifty, if not a bit over-indulgent on the Aztec motifs. The bar lounge overhung the arena, giving Iggy and Victor a clear look onto the action below. They were distanced from their fellow spellbreaker, down in the stadium proper, but it was good to get some private time. The events from Calavera's welcoming party still hung over their heads like a dark cloud.

Iggy drank a strawberry margarita and eyed the mural on the wall behind the bar. Someone had recreated (and rather well, Iggy thought) Frida Kahlo's Self Portrait Along the Boarder Line Between Mexico and the United State, in stunning detail. During one of the many lapses in conversation (Victor had always been the less talkative of the two, but even this was a bit much) Iggy found themself drifting off into the strange landscape.

“You know it?” Victor suddenly asked.

Back to Earth. Iggy smiled, arrogantly. “Handsome, I’m gender queer and my mom is a professor. Of course I know Frida.” He tipped his margarita glass to his lover, to make a point.

Even though he always wore his mask, Iggy thought of it as Victor's true face. Iggy couldn't imagine, when and if Victor ever showed him what lay behind the mask, that he'd have an easier of a time readimg his emotions.

Victor forced a smile. “She was a strong and fiery artist. Never afraid to feel her truth. There was such sadness and pain in her life.”

“But so much beauty too," Iggy added. He put down the margarita. The tequila was starting to go to his head. The match was about to start soon, anyway, so Iggy thought it best to break through and get over it.

He brushed his pink hair back over his shoulders. “Hey. Remember how we agreed to always be honest?”

Victor frowned. “Yeah. Though I think one of us is a bit nicer in how we deliver that honesty…”

Iggy wasn't used to taking sass, least of all from his partner. He let it slide. “Well, handsome, I’m not going to start now. You’ve been cold and distant. I’m…worried. You’re usually the most positive force in the GSA.”

Victor's hand rested on the table. For some reason, Iggy's eyes fell on his gold watch. He recalled how Victor had been so excited and proud to purchase it. It was hard remembering he came from a difficult background. He rarely talked about it. He always made a habit of wearing nice clothing that accentuated his muscles, or putting on fancy cologne. Even after two years, Iggy could not decide whether or not these were more masks of his, part of the performance, or genuine to his character. He had thought the mask would have come off before the 'I Love You'. 

It hadn't.

Victor sighed, head in his one hand, a finger tracing the rim of his wine glass. “Well, we can’t always be positive, cariño.”

Eeesh. Iggy bit his lip. He was right of course. Iggy was the last person to advocate positivity. “No, I get that. Trust me, half of us GSA guys have depression. The other half, anxiety. I’m awesome in that I have both! I’m also a sadist. But…I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours, babe.”

Victor gave him a melancholic smile and slide his hand over towards his, unafraid of how the might be perceived. Even the macho grunts in the bar weren't going to pick a fight with two guys like them.

“I told you when we first got together that there is some stuff I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing. Unfortunately this place is…a lot of stuff.”

Iggy understood. “Okay.” There was no sense trying to force anything out of him, especially if he was feeling vulnerable. “V, if there’s anything I can do-“

“I know,” Victor said, quick. “I always know. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Iggy's eyes turned up at the giant man standing in the door way. Mr. Iron, a literal fortress of strength, nodded politely to him. Buti it was Victor he was after.

Victor turned and acknowledged his friend, the second 'father' to the GSA. He let go of Iggy's hand, perhaps a bit too suddenly, and stood. “Mr. Iron and I need to speak. I’ll see you later.”

It was abrupt. Iggy didn't care for that. He suppressed his emotions and bit his tongue, instead choosing for the smoother path. “Oookay. Well, maybe we can do dinner tomorrow! Cancun?”

“I’m not going to Cancun," Victor muttered, already walking away. "I’m going back to Guadalluvia.” 

Somewhat coldly, Victor walked off with Mr. Iron, out of the bar. Iggy, left alone with his pink cocktail, glared at the empty doorway and thought of breaking his glass in his hands.

Instead, he sighed, downed their whole drink, and tried to resist the temptation of picking a fight with one of these macho hunks standing around him. Would be good to get a stud flat on his back right now, one way or the other.

But that was the old Iggy. These days, he was trying to be more empathetic. Perhaps that infectious little ball of positivity, Spike, had influenced him as of late. Teaching was a two-way-street, no?

Iggy chose to turn and focus on the show. Icewolf and T. Rex were tasty, big, beefy boys, and it was always a welcome distraction watching two meaty men slapping meat. 

Still, Iggy's thoughts drifted back to Victor. “His hometown?” he muttered under their breath. “Hmm." He smiled wickedly and drew a neon-lit heart of light in the air. I.A. + E.A. 

"Heh. Guess that means I’m going too.”

"Thanks," Spike said as Buck handed him and Cian a plastic cup of beer. They took their seats, in anticipation of the fight to come. 

Spike, doing his best to 'fit in' had chosen to wear an El Amante shirt (signed, of course) for the occasion. The Warrior of Love, painted seductively on a bed of roses in the center of the ring, with two knocked out opponents resting their heads against his giant chest, blessed his tight-fitted tee.

Cian, who couldn't be bothered, stuck to his normal hoodie and shorts. Buck, however, had cleaned up nicely and chosen a rust-colored button-up (two at the top unbuttoned, of course) to expose his tuft of fur and signature 'fuckboy' chain necklace. Since Vegas, the three lads had inadvertently formed a loose trio, with Cian warming up slowly to Spike (more like thawing, at a glacial level) and Buck taking more time away from the office to hang out with the gang.

"Where's Big Blue?" Cian asked his boys. Dragon Azul was supposed to be on the card tonight, but Colt had suddenly taken him off.

Buck made a face, half-cringe, half-amused grinned. "Sounds like BD got taken to the Big Bad Wolf's den last night, and he's still sore."

Spike's eyed widened. "What!? Robbie tore him up?"

"He tore something up alright," Buck said, laughing. "Booze and rough sex. Dad's livid!"

"But Blue isn't gay?" Cian said, raising an eyebrow.

Buck and Spike both looked at Cian and tried to keep their inner thoughts intact. "Everyone's a little gay for Icy," Buck laughed. "That's his M.O... Seduce and destroy."

Almost happy I didn't go home with him, Spike thought. "So...he's a heel then!?"

Buck nodded to Cian. "Well, like that piece of cornbeef over there, he straddles the line."

Cian smirked, winked, and did a little bicep flex for his friends.

Wish Icewolf would straddle me, Spike thought to himself as the lights started dimming. He was excited for this match. He'd been following T. Rex for ages now. He was a hunky daddy type. Scary. Crazy. Mean. In other words, Spike's ideal man. While Spike had only just met Robbie, AKA 'Icewolf', but he'd already taken a liking to him. It helped that the Canadian cutie had thrown him against a wall and macked on him severely, of course. 

"So whoever wins is gonna get added to the roster?" Spike asked Buck.

"Yup. Robbie was training with us for awhile, but he was never official. Dad's had his eye on T. Rex for awhile too. Either way, we get a new hunk to play with, so I'm pleased as punch about that!"

Spike smiled. It was good to be in the company of someone just as perpetually horny as him.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!" Boomer Harlow (dressed in a luchador-masked inspired Hawaiin shirt) shouted into the mic. "We got a special one tonight! First up, from Prehistoric Argentina, it's the Big Sexy Dino Daddy himself, Tirano Rex!"

The backlit screen at the entrance platform glowed dark red, with cracks of liquid magma-light. A hulking figure in a patched together cape stomped out, bestially, from behind the curtain. His eyes glowed bright yellow-green behind his mask. His tongue lolled out from his fanged mouth. His heavy metal anthem swelled, with the backdrop exploding like a volcano, illuminating T. Rex in bloody red. He roared, so loud that the audience members on either side of the barricade right by him were knocked back into each other's arms.

T Rex was terrifying to behold, even concealed behind his red cape. He walked like a raptor on the hunt, snarling, and snapping his head towards the audience like they were potentially prey. That said, for the kids in the audience brave enough to approach the barricade, he was happy to dole out high-fives and more jovial, comical roars.

T. Rex stepped onto the Ring apron, holding onto the ropes like a wild man. He extended his 'claw from beneath his cape and clutched the air as if he was ripping the heart out of a fresh kill. The handsome referee approached him with trepidation, the masked menace looming over him all the while. With a swift motion, T. Rex pulled open his cape to show off his bodacious, scar-lined body for the ref and the room to gawk at. Toothy grinned, he flexed his muscles and bounces his chest, giving the poor ref something to stare at. As the ref went to check T. Rex for any foreign objects, the dinosaur snarled and chomped down on his head, sending him scurrying back to the corner and leaving Rex laughing and hollering. Still, it was hard to boo him!

The arena lighting shifted from dark red to a refreshing mix of minty green and cold blue. Boomer Harlow noted the subtle but pronounced drop in temperature. "Folks, did it just get a whole lot cooler in here? Must be because of this next stud coming to the ring! This young man dominated in the world of ice hockey, and now the young wolf is ready to sink his teeth into the spellbreaking circuit! From Toronto, Canada—he's cold, he's bold, moms love him, but keep him away from your dads...it's Robbie the ICEWOLF!"

"Hell yeah it is!" Came the brash but friendly voice from behind the curtain. On a mist of glittery snow, the beefcake skated out on a perpetually spreading 'rink'. Channelling his cold power, he'd turn his wrestling boots into make-shift skates, with the blades formed of solid ice. Icewolf turned his broad back to the audience, clad in his signature hockey jersey with the number '69,' matching the number embroidered on his tight, mint-colored briefs (hello, hockey butt). He pumped the air with his fists and turned to show off his spectacular smile, and beautiful dark eyes. The audience swooned.

So did Spike. "What...a....baaaabe."

Cian folded his arms. "Meh. He's alright."

Icewolf did a little twirl with his skates (annoying the snarling, grunting, and hungry T. Rex waiting for him in the ring) and yanked off his jersey to much applause. Skating down the aisle with masculine grace, Icewolf tapped the eager hands of his audience, stopping to hand a young boy at the end of the row his jersey.

Icewolf smiled at him. "Stay cool, little dude!"

"Wow! Thanks, mister!"

A few rows down, a gruff man turned his nose up at the eager-eyed young man. "69?" he questioned, with furrowed brow.

"It's my position!" Icewolf barked back arrogantly, flipping him the bird. "It's also my team number." He winked, stuck his finger into his mouth, and turned his saliva into a chunk of snow that he tossed in the rude man's direction. "Ask your boyfriend. He knows."  

Back in the 'Three Muskateers' section, Spike turned excitedly to Buck. "He's so cocky and cool! I love him."

"Careful, pardner," Buck laughed back. "Us arrogant boys will be your undoing!"

Icewolf looped around the outside of the ring on his skates, flexing and pumping his fist, 'bro-like'. for all to adore. It only served to make T. Rex more mad. How dare he be out-shown by a young punk? To make him even angrier, Icewolf slid on over to a snooty looking American guy in a Polo shirt and yanked the cup of beer right out of his hands. He skulled it and the audience cheered his bad behavior.

The rich American and his equally snobby, bleach-blond American girlfriend glared daggers at him. "Nice routine, Sugar Plumb Fairy," the Valley Girl spat, trying to defend her man. "T. Rex is gonna rip that smile right off your stupid face!"

Icewolf lowered the cup, gave her a cocky stare, and then spat frozen beer right into her face, causing her to double over and squeal! 

As her himbo boyfriend went to protest, Icwolf grabbed him around the neck and shoved his mouth onto his, forcing the rest of the beer down his throat. Face stained with cold saliva and stale beer, the boyfriend sputtered in humiliation and confusion. Robbie pattered the side of his face.

"Kiss better than her, don't I?" He tossed the plastic cup over his shoulder as he skated away. It collided with the rude American. "Oops! Sooorry. Hahahaha! Dorks..."

"I thought Canadians were supposed to be nice," Spike shouted playfully to Icewolf as he passed by their row.

Robbie's eyes lit up at the familiar voice. He gave Spike a flirty wink. "It's ICEwolf. Not NICEwolf." Then, his eyes fell on Cian, who looked...bored. "C-CIAN!? Oh wow! I'm gonna score hard for you tonight, baby!"

He slid away, red-faced. Cian, only just registering he was being talked to, looked up from his beer. "Huh? What did that guy just say?"

Finally, Icewolf jumped onto the ring apron, shattering the blades of his ice into a thousand pieces with his impact. He turned around, flipped off an audience of drunks booing him, and pulled down the hem of his '69' marked trunks, giving his admonishers a taste of the line of his blue jockstrap. That shut them up. 

Spike and Buck gulped at the same time. "H-h-horny."

"I'm surrounded by feckin' animals," Cian groaned into his beer. 

Icewolf wiped the trace remains of frost on the side of the apron before allowing the ref to respectfully pat him down. "Hey, you were at the Berserker's vs Sea Dragons game in Calgary, weren't ya?"

The ref looked up and gave Icewolf a friendly nod. "Oh yeah! My girlfriend is really into ice hockey. She loves you."

"As she should! Haha. Oh man, that was a great one, eh? Real bad weather that day though, right."

"Oh yeah, I always have a bitch of time going up the 2 on weeknights."

"If you get there before 4, it ain't bad. I always pull over to the Tim's just before the exit ramp and get a brew. The prices aren't bad there and the donuts are worth it if you're hungry. Hey, let me know the next time you're up there and I can snag you tickets to the next game, eh?"

Spike cocked his head to the side. "Is he...making small talk with the ref?"

"Guess he is Canadian," Buck shrugged. 

"OUTTA MY WAY!" T. Rex snarled, tossing the ref aside and jabbing his long, clawed finger in front of a unbothered Robbie's face. "DONUTS! HA! NO WONDER ICEWOLF IS WEAK! YOU SHOULD BE EATING MEAT, LITTLE BOY! AND RIGHT NOW? I'M GONNA EAT YOU!!!!"

The audience winced and 'oooooooed.'

But Robbie kept his cool, sizing up his competion and licking his lips. "Daddy, looking like a total snack, I’m gonna eat YOU."

T. Rex drew back, in confusion and bewilderment. "T. REX ACCEPTS YOUR COMPLIMENT WITH GRATITUDE. BUT IN THIS RING, IT'S MONSTER EAT MONSTER! AND WOLF IS ON THE MENU. I'M GONNA SEND YOU BACK TO PREHISTORIC AGE!"

Enraged, Robbie bumped T Rex with his chest. "You mean ICE AGE, OLD MAN!"

"GRRRR!!!!" T. Rex bounced his pecs up and down, trying to intimidate. "REX IS MORE PECTACULAR THAN LITTLE SNOW DOGGY!"

"WHAT!" Icewolf blurted back. He growled. "RGGGGH!!! Take a better look at these puppies, ya fossil!"

The two hunks growled at each other, bouncing their pecs up almost comedically, gritting their teeth, foreheads pressed against each other.

"I'm...hypnotized," Buck said to Spike. 

"Yeah, I hope they connect four."

"JURASSIC!" T. Rex roared.

"ICE AGE!" Icewolf growled back, flexing his muscles. "FUCK, IT'S GO TIME!"

The bell rang (finally). Icewolf and T. Rex wasted no time going for the lockup. Muscles tensed each other, the bloodthirsty, dino freak's eyes glowed mean-green at his opponent. Not one to be outshone, Icewolf activated their magick, turning their onyx colored eyes cold blue, a chilling effect. 

"HA! TAKE THIS, PRETTYBOY!"

With the spiky top of his dino mask charged for the assault, T. Rex ducked and headbutted Robbie right in the abs, knocking into him with prehistoric power.

"UGH!"

Icy went sailing into the ropes.

"We're already off to an explosive start, folks!" Boomer Harlow shouted into the mic. "We've seen Big T play with his food before, but is this beefcake too rich in protein for the Dino Daddy? Or is he about to be tenderized?"

"Boom's on a role with these puns," Spike said off-handedly to Buck.

Back in the ring, Icy sling-shotted into the embrace of the ropes, runes glowing bright blue. At the last second, Robbie whipped his head up and smirked. "Love a bit of unnecessary roughness, eh?"

Icy used the momentum from the ropes and activated his ice magick, turning his boots into skates and the canvas directly in front of him into an ice sheet. He sailed forward, kicking up frost.

The dino was ready. And he was hungry. "COME HERE, BOY! IT'S DINNER TIME!"

"Only thing you're about to eat," Icewolf said as he kicked off the floor, "Is MY DUST!"

Wolf jumped and flipped over T. Rex's head. The crowd erupted into cheers. The Dino Daddy was stunned!

Wolf landed on his feet in a perfect pose, hands over his head like an Olympic figure skater. "Machismo and grace!" he said. He cupped his hand to his ears. "LET ME HEAR YOU HOWL, WOLFPUPS!"

Icy's fans burst into exaggerated howls. At the commentary table, Boomer Harlow held up a "10" card. "The judges love it!"

"BUT I HATE IT!" T. Rex roared, going for a grapple. He'd wring this little pup's neck yet!

"Because you have no taste!" Wolf spat back. He did a triple axel, using the pivot to launch his bladed boot directly at T. Rex's face. "Suck my foot, eh?"

But T. Rex was faster. His claws dug deep into Icewolf's meaty calves, holding his leg up and forcing him off balance.

"REX IS NOT INTO FEET!" the vicious dinosaur luchador said, grinning. He bent over and scooped up the already unstable Icwolf, lifting him up and over his head. "BUT I AM INTO PAIN! YOURS!"

T. Rex turned around and brought nearly 250 pounds of Canadian beef down into the canvas. The sound alone nearly threw the ref into the ropes, and the audience responded with a collective groan.

"Ughhh." Dazed and dizzy, Icewolf moaned on the mat. 

T. Rex roared and pounced on his prey, rolling him up for a pin and digging his teeth right into Robbie's meaty neck. He always loved to taste his opponent's for the victory.

"1....2..."

"AS IF!" Robbie grunted, tossing T. Rex off him. He rubbed his neck. "YUCK! Dino germs!"

"No biting!" the ref warned the enraged dinosaur. "Umm...please?"

"T. REX RESPECTS YOUR POLITE REQUEST!" the Dino Daddy snarled. Then, he pressed his whole body against the refs, leering malevolently at the smaller man. "BUT HE WON'T LET YOU STAND IN WAY OF HIS TASTY MEAL."

Icewolf saw Rex arguing with the ref and used the moment to his advantage, charging at the king of dinosaurs with full force, shoulder aimed outward like a deadly weapon. "You want some fisticuffs, big boy? EAT SHOULDER."

"HUH?" T. Rex turned slowly. "WH-"

WHAM!

Icewolf DUG his shoulder into T. Rex's chest. Rex slammed painfully into the corner. "GAHHHHHHH!"

Robbie spit on the ground. It turned to ice as soon as it landed. He wasn't playing around. "NO MORE MR. ICE WOLF! Uhhh...I mean NICE WOLF! Ah, whatever. YOU'RE FUCKED, BRO. I'LL SHOW YA' HOW WE HEADBUTT IN TORONTO!"

Robbie kicked off the ground and sailed forward on his ice sheet, a runway leading directly towards his target. He took aim with his head and used it as a battering ram, striking T. Rex right in the gut.

"ONE!" Robbie growled.

"URK!"

"TWO!" 

"GAH!"

"THREE!"

With the third blow, T. Rex spat up green blood (or some other, unknown substance), a fine spray all over Robbie's chest.

Robbie looked down. He flicked the disgusting slime off him. "Aw, yuck!"

"Enough, Robbie," the ref said. 

Robbie put on a "who, me?" expression of innocence, but his tone was dripping with cold sarcasm. "Oh, sooooorry, ref."

"Er...even if you were friendly to me at the start of the match. That's not acceptable!"

Robbie glared, and got in the ref's face. "You're lucky you love the great sport of hockey, bro, or I'd make you eat puck! Er...hey, don't make that sad face, bro! I was just a bit upset. It's cool. Icy still likes ya!"

"Unngggg." Rex groaned in the corner post, rubbing his sored chest. Green spittle fell into the valley between his pectorals.

I hope he falls down into the corner so I can give him a face full of jockstrap, Robbie thought to himself, excitedly, licking his lips and tugging his bulge. But T. Rex was too dangerous a customer to play around with. A contract with the GSA was on the line, and Icy need to seal the deal so he could come back and raise hell (possibly literally) with Deadboy.

"Enough halftime, eh? Time for my favorite game!" Icewolf reeled back his muscular arm and activated his magick. A thick sheet of solid ice enveloped his knuckles. "Let's see how many teeth I can knock out of your stupid face!"

Icewolf went for the glacial punch, aimed square at T. Rex's jaw. An inch away from collision, the vicious dinosaur daddy suddenly grabbed the cocky jock's hand tightly, threatening to break his wrist.

"GGGRRRRRAAAHHH!" T. Rex reached forward with his mouth and, using his titanium-strength teeth, CHOMPED down on the frozen fist, shattering the ice into hundreds of pieces. "NOW I WILL BREAK THE REAL THING! NO MORE HOCKEY FOR YOU!"

"Sh-shit!" Robbie panicked. He couldn't retract his hand, and he felt his tendons already giving to T. Rex's pressure. He'd seen this brute snap a few bones before. Icewolf dropped to his knee, ready to try and grab T. Rex's meaty thigh and knock him backwards into the turnbuckle. 

Instead, he missed, grabbing a handful of T. Rex's trunks instead. Down they went.

Much to Spike (and the audience's) disappointment, they couldn't see the 'wardrobe malfunction' from their vantage point. But Robbie and the Ref plainly could. Their eyes bugged out of their heads. 

 "W-wooooah, daddy!" Icewolf swallowed. "That's a...MAMMOTH!"

"Heh," Rex shot back, readjusting his trunks. "YOU TWERP! TURNABOUT...FAIR PLAY!"

Icewolf realized at the last second what he meant. He tried to jump backwards, but there T. Rex was, wrapped around his legs. "Wa-wait a minute!"

"YOINK!"

At the table, Boomer Harlow blushed. "Whewhy! That's a nice piece of Canadian bacon."

Even Rex was impressed. "WOOOOAH, SON!"

"GAH! Icewolf shoved his 'assets' back into his jockstrap, and pulled away before Rex could snatch his breifs."No way, bro! You don't get a taste of the Big Chill today!" 

T. Rex slurped and licked his lips. "NOW T. REX IS HUNGRY FOR TASTY TASTY BEEFCAKE! I WILL TENDERIZE MY MEAT FIRST!" Rex charged forward and clotheslined Wolf right in the face, knocking him flat on his back.

"DAMN!" Boomer howled. "That stegosaurus just hit poor Wolfie like a tanker trunk!"

Crap. Robbie was down, the lights swirling above his head. He'd had his fair share of hits from his hockey days, but that wallop was something else. Robbie tried to raise his head, but the dizziness drowned him. He drooped. No. Can't lose...

"TIME FOR SNACK!"

T. Rex bent his fingers into claws and jumped right on top of the already down Robbie, knocking the air out of him in the process. With an animal frenzy, T. Rex dragged his sharp fingernails across Wolf's pristine, oiled bronze torsos, making deep, red lines.

"GAHHH!" Robbie screamed.

The ref jumped down to intervene. "Quit it!"

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU!" Rex roared. He leaned down and yanked the ref right off his feet, taking him into a scoop and throwing him clean across the ring. The ref wasn't knocked out, but he was stunned, giving Rex free reign to dig in on his delicious morsel.

Again, T. Rex dragged his claws over his opponent, this time drawing blood. "TASTY!" T. Rex growled, no longer able to control himself. He leaned down and began to lick Icewolf's wounds.

The audience reeled back in disgust. Cian gagged. Buck put his hand over his mouth. Spike grinned. "That's fuckin' hot!"

Wincing, but unable to do anything to stop this freak from violating his athletic excellence, Robbie tried to muster the strength needed to peel himself off the canvas. T. Rex had transitioned from licking to biting. 

"CHOMP!"

The fiend sunk his teeth into Wolf's bulging shoulder muscle.

"AAAAAGHHH!"

The pain was near unbearable, and even the thought of tapping out crossed Robbie's addled mind. Was this what it was like to be eaten alive?

Drooling a mix of Robbie's blood and his strange, green fluid, Rex went for the rollup pin, but realized the ref was still struggling to get to his feet. "GRRRR. STUPID, FRAGILE REF!" He snarled and took his anger out by punching Robbie right in the face. "STUPID, CUTE WOLFIE! YOU LOOK BETTER WITH SWOLLEN FACE AND BLOOD ALL OVER."

"I.." Robbie started, weakly. "I...look good no matter what, you Jurassic jughead." Really though, he felt like he was destined for oblivion. He needed to push through the pain.

Roaring and huffing (and dripping sweat all over Icewolf, to boot) Rex yanked Wolfie up by the hair and forced him onto his knees.

"ENOUGH APPETIZER. TIME FOR MAIN COURSE." 

A strange, green glow encompassed T. Rex, in perfect coordination with his monstrous lizard eyes. His glyph activated, T. Rex grew larger and and larger, right front of Icewolf and the Ref. He doubled, then tripled in size, large enough that the hair jutting from beneath his mask nearly touched the lighting rig. 

T. Rex beat his chest and roared, loud enough that it shook the rafters. Beneath him, Robbie's eyes widened in sheer terror. Even the ref looked towards the exit!

"We might be about to witness an extinction level event here, folks!" Bommer said, anxioisly leaning in. "This might not just be the end of the match, but the end of Icewolf's career! We've seen T. Rex ruin a few before!"

Cian glared at Spike. "Whatever you're thinkin', boyo..."

"WHAT!? Even that's too big for me!" He thought about it a moment. "I mean, not that I wouldn't give it a try."

Buck/Cian: "SPIKE!"

The monstrous, oversized T. Rex reached down and grabbed Icewolf with both hands, hoisting him up like he weighed nothing at all. The masked spellbreaker wasn't shy about squeezing down on poor Wolfie either.

"Urk!" Icewolf groaned. Now I know what a roll of toothpaste feels like!

The drooling, malevolent dinosaur licked his lips in front of Icewolf, and then—most odious of all—he extended his long, lizard-like tongue and slid it all over Icewolf's body, coating him in thick, viscous slime.

"GAHHH!" Iceowlf screamed. "I'm gonna be sick!"

"HEHEHEHE! TASTY, TASTY HUNK! NOW, YOU GET EATEN!

"Is he gonna swallow him WHOLE?" Spike stammered, placing his hands to his head. "Oh no, this better not awaken something in me..."

Icwolf only had seconds before T. Rex either ate him, chewed him and spat him out, or delivered his Total Extinction finisher! Unfortunately, Icewolf had poured most of his stats into brawn than brain. Still, he wasn't a total dummy. He had his magick. And, he was coated in, basically, water.

That's it!

Thinking on his feet (well, not really, seeing as he was being held mid-air) the wriggling Icwolf took a deep breath and flash-froze the slime coating around him.

"YOW!" T. Rex shrieked, as his palms seared from the sub-zero temperature. He dropped Icwolf.

Rather than let himself fall painfully down to the canvas, however, Icewolf landed on T. Rex's enormous, dinosaur-skull shaped shoulder pad. He shook off the shards of ice, but saved a little for his next move... 

"Hey big guy! How about a snowball!" 

Icwolf crushed the chunks of ice and reformed them into a spikey ball. He tossed it into the air, then used the rest of the residual ice shards around him to conjure up a 'hockey stick' made of ice, which he quickly used to STRIKE the ball of sharp ice right into T. Rex's oversized eyes.

"AGGGH!!!!!"

The ice-carved hockey stick crumbled into a snowy dust. Ice wolf made the jump from T. Rex's shoulder to the top rope, landing with perfect balance. "Timbbbeeeerrrr!" He called out, watching T. Rex fall backwards, shrinking back down to his default size.

The Dino Daddy hit the canvas with a painful thud, on a pile of ice shards no less. The frozen daggers dug deep into his back. A puddle of green blood formed beneath him.

"NASTY!" Boomer Harlow shouted. "But WHAT a reversal, folks! The audience is losing its mind!"

Icewolf shook his head. Dripping with beads of sweat that froze instantly around his ambient aura, he glittered with intense, blue light. Even a few yards away, Spike was enamored, looking upon his new friend with reverence. He was looked like a god of the frozen north. Something from out of a legend. 

Icewolf said nothing. No puns. No quips. That's how the audience knew this alpha wolf was ready for the kill. His lips curling into a snarl, he made a 'come hither' motion with his hand, causing the ice shared beneath the downed T. Rex ( as well as his frozen blood) to form a pillar, lifting up the giant man and delivering fresh prey to its master. 

Like a crushed lizard, T. Rex struggled to pull himself off his ice manacle. "Gah...."

Exhausted and enraged, Robbie raised a dark eyebrow. "That all you got, wuss? Heh. Pathetic." He shoved T. Rex between his giant, muscular thighs, clamping down and squeezing the big man's thick neck.

"GGGGGAAAAAAHHH!" T. Rex moaned, bestially.

"How those legs, feel champ?" Preparing for the finish, Robbie grabbed at his own head and cracked it side to side. "Alright, wolf pups. This IT! Your boy is about to SCORE! AWROOOO!!!!"

Even Cian was impressed. "He's going for a modified Canadian Destroyer! SHIT!"

"Avalauncher!" Robbie said, as he sprung into the air with T. Rex caught between his legs. Robbie did a graceful flip, mid air, transforming himself and his victim into a ball of solid ice. It froze T. Rex to the core. "GET SHATTERED, BITCH!"

With the force of a massive avalanche, Robbie brought himself and T. Rex—head first—into the canvas. The whole ring shook, exploding with cold, diamond dust. Suddenly, the whole ring was encircled in a miniature blizzard.

Half emerged from a snowbank, body bent at an odd angle, the frozen form of T. Rex twitched. Robbie went for a schoolboy pin, crotch first, covering up his opponent's face with his bulge.

"ONE! TWO! THREE! Brrr. it's chilly!"

The bell rang. Robbie jumped to his feet, howling and punching the air with his fist as the audience cheered him on. He conjured his skate blades and zoomed around the arena, doing laps around the still-convulsing T. Rex.

"With that, folks, Robbie 'The Icewolf' has cinched his position on the GSA roster!"

Spike, Cian, and Buck all beamed. "Guess we just got a new friend," Spike said.

"Friend," Buck iterated. "Not fuckbuddy. Got it, punk?"

Cian wrapped his huge arm around Spike's head, bringing him into a playful headlock. "Don't worry, Prince, I'll make sure Spike here behaves."

Icewolf jumped over the ropes and landed on the other side of the ring, doing another triple axel just to show off. "Fuck yeah!" he said. "That's right! Who's the best? Icy's the best! Never doubt the genuine thrilla', and Ice. Cold. Killa'!"

Back in the ring, the ref examined T. Rex's frozen form. It looked like he was done for good. But, like the typical horror movie, T. Rex's eyes suddenly glowed. He bolted up, scaring the wits out of the ref. He shook the frost off him like a dog, and immediately marched over to the ropes.

"OH NO!" Boomer shouted, pulling at his hair. "Looks like the Big Sexy Dino Daddy isn't done yet! The match is won. What's he gonna do!? Looks like he's got the mic."

"ICEWOLF!"

"Hm!?" Robbie looked over his shoulder. "Oh, shit!"

Everyone in the audience, the Three Musketeers included, held their breath. Even Iggy, watching from the bar balcony, leaned in with intent.

T. Rex pointed at his vanquisher. "LISTEN HERE, WOLF PUP."

Robbie shifted his face from genuine shock to defiance. He spat on the aisle. "Yeah?"

T. Rex glowered at him for a moment more. Then, his bestial grimace turned into a genuinely friendly smile. "THAT...WAS ONE OF THE MOST FUN MATCHES I EVER HAD!"

Icewolf stared him, dumbly. He scratched his head, unsure of what to say. "Eh...thanks?"

"HEHEE! YOU ARE T. REX'S FRIEND NOW! BE HONORED."

Robbie normally acted cocky and arrogant during these kinds of stand-offs. But something about T. Rex just warmed his cool heart. The guy loved spellbreaking! No doubt about that. Even Robbie had to respect it.

He smiled back. "Oh, I definitely am!"

"GAHAHAHA!" T. Rex shook the ropes with a childish glee. "REMATCH SOON, CUTIE?"

Icy winked, and blew his opponent frosty-heart. "Definitely, daddy. Step into the wolf's den whenever you want. Oh, and Sexy Rexy?"

"GRR?"

"I better see you on the GSA roster next year!"

The audience reacted warmly to this unexpected comradery between two bad boys of spellbreaking. It was definitely a night to remember. 

But nobody saw Robbie as he turned to face the entrance arch. He smiled deviously. "I gotta' tell Deadboy this! It's all going down just like he said it would. Soon, the GSA will be ours!"

 

A private dressing room, far from the din of the arena. While eyes and ears were on Icewolf and T. Rex's glorious bout, John Henry Iron held court from the upholstered couch, his massive arm slung over the side. 

Across from him, cousins Victor and Rosa, of the Rivera-Rosado spellbreaking lineage, hung on to his every word. It was quite the revelation.

Mr. Iron finished his long explanation at last. “I know that’s probably a lot to take in…”

Rosa and Victor were both silent for a time. Rosa spoke first, with a defensive scoff. “A lot? That’s fucking nuts!”

Mr. Iron gave her a tired, annoyed look.

She immediately apologised, hair hung over her head, looking down at the art deco carpeting. “Look, I know my glyph. I’ve been trained in magick. But everything you just said? This is that old, spooky shit we don’t mess with.”

Victor, quiet as he had been, was more willing to engage. “The curanderas in my village spoke of the Chalice. It was sealed before the colonizers arrived. I always thought it was just a myth.” He looked to Rosa and have her a reassuring nod.

Mr. Iron sighed. “Lily’s intel says it’s located at Chichen Itza, in the pyramid there. It’s got a ‘blood enchantment’ locking it.”

"The Temple of Kukulcán?" El Amante clarified, in wonder. He sunk back into his seat. Even speaking about this sort of thing aloud, felt like it was invoking a sort of power. “Hmm. Well, you would need someone to open the seal. Someone from the bloodline. Probably a descendent of the Maya. Rosa is right. This is old magick. Beyond us.”

He let out a long exasperation, drooping his shoulders “I am sorry. There’s a lot on my mind.”

Mr. Iron permitted him his moment. “Camatotz Jr. and Serpent got to you, huh?”

The normally high-spirited luchador nodded. Rosa, sensing his woe, placed her hand over his. “One of the reasons I love the GSA so much is because…it’s far from where I grew up. I left a lot of bad memories in this place. Now, to be thrown back…”

“Hey," Mr. Iron said, softly. "We’re all here for you.”

Rosa was more interested in defending her cousin's comfort than discussing archaeology. “If this thing is so important, why don't Aradia or Lily get it for us, huh? Sounds like it could be putting us in harm’s way.”

El Amante spoke on behalf of their friend. “Because I’m the only person we know who can possibly open the door. Unless we get one of the locals to do it. And we both know they’re not going to want to listen to me.”

Something about this subject irritated Rosa strongly, though she would have been the first to admit tensions had already been running high the last few days. She placed a palm to her forehead in frustration. “Viki, we’re not Mayan. Abuelo traced us back to–”

“My mother was," Victor said, short. He looked away; the subject awkward and painful for him. "She’s a local. Born and bred. I know I have the bloodline in me. As for the...” he hesitated. "As for the 'things' that might guard that place. I can see them too."

Mr. Iron cocked his head to the side. Admittedly, this was a bit beyond him. "But you don't have the Glyph of Spirit."

"I'm half..." Victor trailed off. "Look, I can see them, okay?"

Incredulous and bewildered, Rosa drew back from her cousin. He had never mentioned this to her before. Felt a bit like a betrayal. This behavior of his, these sudden revelations the last few days. It was all becoming a bit too much.

She gave him a dark look. “But how?"

Victor snapped. “There’s some things you don’t need to know, Rosita!”

The mood in the room changed. For the worse. Victor hardly ever rose his voice, but when he did, it was terrifying. The sting of the scorpion.

He looked at her, ashamed and annoyed. “You may be family but, there’s a lot of shit here that’s personal to me.” He turned his attention to Mr. Iron instead. “Firebird is scum and I have a hunch they’re working with Los Venoms. I like Lily and Salim. Any friend of the Tamberly family is a friend of mine, and good people. So...I’ll help you.”

Mr. Iron sighed. With a clap of his hands, he rose from his seat, as did his audience. "Welp. That's settled. While the the others are in Cancun, we can head to Guadalluvia. Let's just grab this thing and get out of there quick as possible. The less time we take, the better for all of us."

"Agreed," Victor said sternly. Rosa, however, said nothing. Eyes downcast, she was the first to exit the room. Mr. Iron and Victor followed suit. They switched off the lights and shut the door behind them.

In their absence, hollow, white eyes shone in the dark. Phasing out of invisibility, Camazotz Jr. grinned. "So the Chalice is inside Kukulcán. Well, thanks for doing Los Venom's work for us!"

To Be Continued!