Many natural wonders were to be found among the countries of South America. The lush Amazon, with all of its rainforests and rivers, was one such treasure. There were also the remnants of the great Inca--Machu Pichu, among the clouds, and the silent ruins of Vilcabamba, hidden in the dark forests. More mysterious were the Nazca Lines, massive petroglyphs etched into the arid desert floor, whose true purpose is still hotly debated. More mysterious were those so-called 'lost cities' of gold and ivory, supposedly hidden in the farthermost reaches of forest, who would reveal themselves only to the most fortunate or worthy. Then there were the less obvious, but perhaps most priceless treasures of all: the hundreds of languages, cultures, and customs that abounded, even in the face of invasion, colonization, rebellion, disease. From corner to corner, the continent was, and would forever be, worthy of reverence.
But of all the jewels, it was what the Bolivians called The Mirror of Heaven that was, perhaps, the most breath taking. Officially known as Salar De Uyuni, miles of salt flats stretching on towards the horizon. When the rains covered the flats, leaving behind no more than an inch or two of water, a miracle of nature occurred: the largest, natural mirror in the world. The Salar became the perfect reflection of the blue sky, creating an endless sea of clouds.
On the day of the title fight between Colt the Bolt and the notorious Serpent, the clouds accumulated overhead, growing darker, casting the unusual arena in an ominous shadow. The bout was a much more exclusive affair than normal, hence a higher price of admission (save for locals, who Colt insisted on providing a discount). A row of bleachers sat on either side of a circle demarcated by runes etched into the earth beneath the shallow water. No ring. It was a free fight, rarely seen in the spellbreaking world.
This was back to basics.
Spike wished he could be excited. After all, he'd idolized Colt "The Bolt" since he was a child. He was the reason had gotten into spellbreaking in the first place. That he'd ended up taking Spike on board as a student....well, the Goddess really did work in strange ways, as the Sisters often said.
The truth was that Spike was afraid. Nothing about this trip, this tour, had been particularly enjoyable. Still, as he sat next to Buck—Colt's son—he understood that this was no longer about his own feelings. If he couldn't fight, then he could support his friend. After all, Spike's symbol was the anchor, something cemented by the shape of his barrier manifestation. His gift was grounding and support.
Despite everything, Buck appeared to be more serene than one would expect of a young man about to watch their father engage in a blood sport. He had foregone his casual wear (cut offs, flannel, baseball caps, etc.) in favor for a rather snazzy dress vest, orange tie, and khakis. Earthy colors. Typical of Buck, the plant and animal lover. He had slicked his hair and shaved. Spike always thought him handsome, but there was a maturity and bravery about him today that moved him all the more. Or would have, if Spike wasn't scared shitless for his teacher's health. He could only imagine what Buck was thinking, as they sat on the bleachers, shoulder to shoulder with enthusiastic strangers.
In moments of fear or crisis, Sister Patience had always encouraged Spike to draw strength from the good. It wasn't just about looking at the positive, but recognize that there were always allies present, no matter how weak or strong. It had been very hard for Spike to recognize that truth these last few days, when evil seemed to triump and dominate every facet of his life. Iggy had been injured (though, by all accounts, was expected to recover fully). Rosa was heartbroken. Victor was gone. Los Venoms and Firebird had played them all.
But even the strangers here had showered Spike and the GSA with affection. The Bolivians were welcoming to a fault, buying them drinks, chatting to them about spellbreaking and other sports. Everyone here was just so...nice. Pure and simply nice. The GSA had also rallied quite strongly, internally. Rivalries and petty arguments had been put aside. Even Cian, normally the bane of Spike's existence, had been kind to him.
Colt had also told his students not to bother attending for his sake. They could just watch it at home, he said. But most of the crew was here, save Rosa, who had politely expressed her desire to hold back at the hotel. Nobody blamed her. For some reason, though, Buck and Spike had ended up sitting by themselves, together, at the front row. Next to the barricade, the boys had the perfect view of the action.
Spike's thoughts were interrupted by the sound system, telling everyone to take their seats and prepared for the rumble. He hadn't really been to many outdoor matches before, and by all counts, this was very uncommon.
"Dad would do something ballsy like this," Buck sighed. "A big spectacle. He's been training like hell, Spike. Last few weeks, I haven't even seen much of him."
Buck was usually so cool and confident. It was uncomfortable to hear him reserved. "I can't imagine what's going through your head, pal."
Buck forced a smile. "What's going through my head is how we're gonna manage to get a hulk like Serpent to a hospital when my daddy rips apart."
"Hell yeah," Spike said. "Hmm. Do you think Colt is really gonna kill him?"
"My dad is still a good guy. He'll probably just cripple him instead."
Spike gulped. "I forget how violent this sport can be sometime. I don't think I'd ever do a match like this."
"You're saying you wouldn't get into a cage with me?" Buck winked. "Nah, dad wouldn't expect you to. Some spellbreakers are silly. Big hams. Some are hardcore. Some just do it for the fun. He always says there's no one way to do this sport, which is why he makes an effort to employ diverse talent."
The reflection of the sky and earth glimmered in Buck's hazel eyes. "If you gotta know, Grandpa Ox was a tough man, and he wasn't nice to dad."
"Ox?"
"Oxnard." Buck laughed. "Ox. Colt. Buck. We Tamberlys have a naming tradition. All names for strong beasts."
Known for very specific qualities, Spike thought, but decided not to say outloud. This was not the time for innuendo.
"Dad always swore to give his kids an opportunity to follow their own path," Buck said. "Or...so he tries. You don't get out of a childhood like his without retaining a few bad qualities from your father. Seems like a cycle sometimes, doesn't it? Fathers and sons..." He sighed. "Ignore me. I don't know what I'm saying. Guess I'm just nervous."
Spike's hand moved ahead of his brain. He placed his hand over Buck's. "I will never ignore you."
It was the first time he saw Buck look away out shyness. "Oh...thank you, Spike." He smiled, and squeezed his hand back. "I..." He stopped. "Hmm. Lost my train of thought..."
Even Spike was perceptive enough to know that wasn't the truth. Fate being fate, however, he wasn't able to tug on that thread. Boomer Harlow, sitting at the announcer's table a few feet away, cleared his throat.
There were no entrance themes. No flashing pyrotechnics. This was a battle, in the ancient tradition of spellbreaking, before vaudeville and sideshows had transformed it into a modern form of entertainment. There were even some rumors that Colt and Serpent had initially agreed to fight in the nude, in the old style, but Buck had quickly shot that gossip down...for obvious reasons.
"Okay folks, introducing our first fighter!" Boomer Harlow shouted. "He's one bad hombre with a venomous tongue, and killer looks to boot. Er...well....he's probably handsome under that mask. Not too sure! But what I do know is that Serpent is the most vile, vicious, and dead sexiest stud this side of the Rio Grande! Whatever you do, don't look into his eyes!"
Half of the great circle beneath the salty water glowed intense, bright red, its runes visible even beneath the illusion of abyssal sky. From behind a red, standing curtain, Serpent slowly made his presence known. He relied on his intimidating aura for showmanship. No flash. A black, leather duster jacket barely restrained his bulging, oiled up muscles. His snakeskin mask's scales glimmered in the fading sunlight, but not so much as his glowing, evil, serpentine eyes. The boos and jeers from the crowd—Spike and Buck loudest of all—only made him grin and lick his lips. He walked forward, slow, refusing to acknowledge the audience. They were all so beneath him. At the end of his match, as in other victories, he would cast a spell and make all of them kneel to him by force. He would then pick the prettiest man in the audience, charm him, and take him back to his private quarters as his personal trophy.
"Perhaps that lucky one will be you," Serpent hissed, pointing directly at Buck.
The brave, handsome heir to the GSA raised an eyebrow but otherwise looked unbothered.
"Yessss. After I force you to watch me break your father, I think I'll sling you over my shoulder and take you back with me." His tongue slithered out of his lips. "I'll be your new papi, Buck. Get used to the name. It will be on your lips a lot. And your lips..." He motioned to his snakeskin covered bulge. "Hehehehehe."
Buck yawned and turned to Spike. "It's funny how he thinks I wouldn't enjoy that. Er...well except the part where he kills my dad. But that's not going to happen."
"Of course not," Spike, quite shaken, said hesitantly.
Buck's eyes went cold, distant. "Because I would skin that snake first. It's not just my dad he should be afraid of."
Maybe it was the look in Buck's eyes, or the quiet, icy, register in his voice, but Spike felt his blood run cold. "Buck...you're scary..."
"I know." Buck nodded to the blue, glowing semi-circle on the other side of the mirror surface ring.
A burst of thunder made the audience jump. Even Serpent blinked.
Boomer stood up to speak. It was obvious to see which fighter he favored. "The cowboy king is coming to the ring! The big damn hero himself, fresh out of retirement! With good looks and muscles to spare, here comes the storm himself, COLT THE BOLT!"
Lightning flashed, and more thunder peeled off in the distance.
"I thought there weren't any special effects for this match," Spike said.
Buck sighed. "My daddy IS the special effect."
If Colt was afraid or concerned, nobody could tell. His hair was styled wet, like the protagonist of a romance novel. Beard, trimmed. Muscles, pumped. There was lightning in his eyes, and his smile gleamed like the sun piercing the clouds. His entrance gear was almost the same as his glory days, with a twist to mirror Serpent. Instead of the fringed vest and chaps, a white duster jacket (embroidered with Colt's signature lightning bolts, of course) ran the length of his body. And, if anything, he looked even bigger now in his middle age than he did when he was younger.
Buck had heard fans call Colt a bona fide sorcerer, or wizard, for how strong his magick was. Old, outdated titles to be sure. Now, Buck believed his dad really was the most powerful man on Earth.
Seemed Boomer believed it too. The Mouth of Spellbreaking struggled to find his words, but it didn't matter. Entrance music and flashing lights be damned, the crowd rose to its feet in celebration. Colt was showered in cheers and adoration.
Serpent, on the other side of the ring, grit his teeth in rage and envy. "Fools..."
But Colt was not the boastful, brash, fighter of his youth. He held his head high, in gratitude and humility, putting his hands together in profound respect for the crowd. "Thank you. Bless. Thank you, so much. Aw, shucks..."
Spike had tears in his eyes, and Buck beamed with raw pride. "Damn it. Big idiot..."
Colt was a man changed. Well, almost. Old habits being what they were, the cowboy king couldn't resist pumping his fist in the air and bellowing a hearty, "HOWDY, HOWDY, LET'S GET ROWDY!"
The crowd cheered again, but this was enough for Serpent. "YOU DOG!" he snarled, venom dripping from his mouth, as he charged forward with a fist. "I'LL END YOU IN FIVE SECONDS."
"Oh?" Colt pivoted like the wind. It was like slow motion, how he turned, removing his long duster, using it in the same manner as a bull fighter to his target. He tossed it over Serpent's body, twisted on his boots in the water, and delivered a stunning kick to Serpent's back, knocking him flat and wet.
The audience remained on their feet. Colt always brought the electricity, but this fight was already something else. The unusual scenery only enhanced the action, with both fighters were reflected in the thin strip of water. Serpent recovered, naturally, tossing his jacket aside and digging into Colt with a vengeful fury. Their bodies collided, sending up cascades of water. This wasn't spellbreaking but fighting in the purest form, a dance of violence, a god of the underworld clashing with a god of the skies.
The move chains were exquisite, proving to the audience that these veterans had only perfected their bodies in their age. Serpent pulled Colt into a wrist lock, swiftly reversed into a headlock, then back into a waist grab and a stunning suplex into the water.
Buck and Spike winced. "Shit," Buck said. "Come on dad. Get up."
Colt didn't need to hear his son's command. Wasn't his first knock to the back and skull. Probably wouldn't be the last. Since it was a last man standing, there was no pinfall. Serpent or Colt would beat the shit out of the other guy until he couldn't get up, one way or the other. Colt bridged and pulled out. The lubrication from the water helped. Heaving and wet, with salt water dripping down their bulky torsos, Colt and Serpent faced each other anew.
"That all you got, BOY?" Colt roared. He raised his fist and electricity crackled.
Serpent flashed a toothy grin. "Hmmm."
Colt's electricity fizzled as he shuddered, electrified by his own magick. "Damn it," he snarled, looking down at his beefy forearm in surprise.
The audience gasped. Buck understood what had happened. "The salt water," he said. "Damn it, dad. You ignored the obvious detail!"
"What's a matter, cowboy?" Serpent mocked. "Looks like your spark just fizzled out!"
Serpent went for a tackle, but Colt grabbed him around the waist, pulling him into a tight, wet bearhug. Spike kept his thoughts to himself, but anybody watching (save Buck) could see the eroticism in the fight. Some audience members had even playfully referred to the match as the "Battle of the Daddies".
Slick skin and muscle aside, Colt's grip was certain. He squeezed his muscles around Serpent's waist. The villainous snake braced back in pain, trying to control his breathing. This was where Colt would, normally, inject him with a thousand volts of pure punishment, but the water was making that a bit of an issue at present. He was down on magick, but that didn't bother him. He had muscle and might on his side.
"YOU GIVE, SNAKE? OR DO I END YOUR MISERABLE CAREER HERE AND BREAK YOU IN TWO?"
From the front row, Spike gulped and crossed one leg in front of the other. Okay, don't let Buck see you get turned on. Try not to think too much about being in Serpent's position...
Serpent leaned forward, breathlessly. "Did...you really think it would be that easy, vaquero? Do these look like the eyes of the defeated?"
"Huh."
!!!
Serpent's eyes glowed intense green. Colt had just enough wherewithal to look away at the last second, losing his grip in the process.
"Idiot!" Serpent snarled, freeing his hand and pushing the flat of his palm against Colt's chin. "I'll snap your neck!"
"UGH!" With no choice, Colt dropped him and backed off, dodging a punch and responding with a kick to the gut. The water rippled beneath his booths.
Serpent merely laughed at the blow. "That all you got, vaquero? Must be getting weak in your old age."
Colt jumped forward, into the air, creating a shockwave in the water with his launch. "I'm just gettin' started, hoss!" Turning himself into a missile, he aimed a dropkick right at Serpent's chest, knocking him to the water with a mighty splash.
"GET 'EM, DAD!" Buck shouted.
Colt didn't let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Body and trunks soaked through, and wet, tangled hair stuck to his back and shoulders, he looked like a hungry lion digging into downed pray. Colt jumped forward and tackled Serpent onto his back.
"I was gonna beat you clean," Colt growled. "But guess we gotta do this the hard way, huh?"
WHAP!
Colt's fist connected with Serpent's head. The fiend tried to put himself into a fighter's guard, wrapping his massive legs around Colt's mid section. Colt ignored it and kept hammering, fist against skull. It was brutal.
Serpent smiled through the blood on his face and mask. "Who....will...yield first, I wonder?" He said as he tightened his legs, thigh muscles and quads protruding from his skin. "Who can take the pain!"
Knuckles bloody, Colt did not let up. "I'll do what I have to! Give up now and I end this. Maybe you can keep what's left of your face!"
Like a cobra, Serpent spat blood at Colt, blinding him. "GAH!"
"Gross," Spike said. "And...kind of hot?"
Buck glared at him. "Spike, that's my dad..."
"Yeah, I know!"
"Poor cowboy," Serpent said, squeezing down hard with his legs, turning his defensive move into a full body scissors. "I will BREAK your ribs. And then I will devour you whole in front of this audience!"
Colt winced, blood in his eyes and his sternum under tight pressure. "You're....gonna devour my hole!?"
"WHAT? No, idiot, I said...! NEVER MIND."
Colt pushed off the water, trying to pull out from the trash-compactor level of pressure around his waist. "Gotta...get up..."
Buck held his breath. "Come on dad, come on..."
"Shit," Colt cursed. "Gotta' try it..."
Electricity ran into Colt and Serpent, shocking them both. The uncontrollable voltage forced Colt to black out for a brief moment, but it did do the trick in stopping Serpent, whose muscles were forced to contract, releasing his anaconda grip.
"That was one risky move from the cowboy king!" Boomer Harlow said, patting his brow with a rag. "Goddess, folks, this is a real nail biter."
Both combatants were on all fours in the water, Serpent drooling blood, Colt coughing and sputtering. The two were no longer men, but beasts, bruised and bloody and hungry for more.
"They're winded," Buck said to Spike. "This can't go on much longer."
Serpent rose his head first, tasting the air as t he clouds overhead grew thicker and darker. Colt looked up next, into his opponent's eyes.
A fatal mistake.
"Goooood," Serpent hissed. "Look...into....my eyes."
"Wh-" Wet hair dangling in front of his face, Colt's body shuddered again. His eyes turned the same color and luster as Serpent's The enchantment was swift and certain.
Spike and Buck, in unison: "NO!"
The crowd gasped. Boomer Harlow hollered. Serpent licked his lips, hungry for ruin. "Now...rise. Do as I command."
The cowboy king was not short on willpower, but against Serpent's glyph, he was useless. With slack jawed expression, the hypnotized cowboy king stood and waited. Obedient.
"HAHAHAHA!" Serpent cackled, struggling to get to his feet. He spit blood into the water. Whatever he did, whatever dark magick he wrought, the crystalline mirror suddenly tinted crimson red, startling the audience. Overheard, thunder rolled.
Serpent extended his hands to the world and tightened his claws. "You...are ALL MINE!"
Of all present, it was Buck who realized it first. "Wait...no...it's a giant mirror! Spike, that means..."
But the emptiness in Spike's eyes was telling. And then, the glow.
Buck reeled back, disgusted. He turned to his neighbor. The same. They were all under Serpent's thrall.
Even Boomer Harlow. "S...Serpent. You are our master. You are our champion."
The rest of the audience joined in the zombified jubilation. "Master. Champion. We live to serve you, Serpent."
"HAHAHAHA!" Serpent licked the air with his tongue. "Glorious! Ohhh, it feels so GOOD to come out of retirement." He wiped his bloody face and saliva away with his forearms, and took his sweet time strutting over to his dumb, muscular opponent, standing there with his mouth open. Subservient. Obedient.
"I could...do anything to you now," Serpent hissed, barely able to control his lust. He could choke slam him. Sleeper him out. Wail on him and have him take it. Break every bone in his body. But Serpent was far greedier. He wanted more.
Tongue hanging out of his mouth, Serpent leaned forward and slid it over Colt's pectorals, lapping up the sweat off of them. He licked him like a dog, tasting him deeply. It was grotesque. Violating. The cowboy could do nothing but stand there, blank faced, not even present for what was happening
Moaning, Serpent held his prize captive, looking into his eyes. Nothing there. He had him. The cowboy was his.
"This...is what I have really wanted for so long. To...taste you. Devour you."
Serpent leaned over and parted Colt's mouth, slowly sticking his tongue inside. "Oh yes...first you, and then your son. Side by side. Both MINE."
"GROSS!" Buck shouted.
Serpent pulled back, embarrassed and surprised. He whipped his head to the ingrate who DARED interrupt the moment he'd been waiting for since he'd first tasted defeat at Colt's hands, years prior. "How is that possible?"
Like father like son, it was only THEN that Buck realized he was the only one seemingly unaffected by Serpent's dark magick. He looked around, wildly, at the zombies in his midst. "Oh shit..."
"Heh." Serpent tore himself away from his prize, but not before giving Colt a small kiss on the forehead. "No matter. This makes it more fun." He pointed to Buck in the front row. "Okay, Daddy Tamberly. Time to discipline your boy. Walk."
The mind-controlled Colt did as his master commanded, walking towards Buck at the side lines. There was nothing behind his eyes. An empty shell.
"Dad, snap out of it!" Buck called back. When he realized that wasn't going to work, he began looking for an exit.
Serpent accounted for this, nodding to Spike. "You there. Foul Twink. Restrain him!"
Spike did as he was told, bolting up and putting Buck into a tight full nelson. Buck gargled. "GAH! Spike...I always forget how strong you are...damn it, you been really hitting arm day, huh, stud?"
Colt approached his son. Buck, bracing against his friend's iron grip, tried to raise his head, even though his chin was practically burying itself in his own chest.
"Dad. It's me, Buck. Your son. Come on, dad! This is like the cheesy bit in the movie when the love of the son trumps the magick of the bad--"
"Strangle him," Serpent said.
Colt reached out and grabbed his son by the neck, squeezing down hard.
"Apparently not," was all Buck managed to say, as his father's grip tightened.
Serpent laughed. "This is better than I could have POSSIBLY imagined. I will take EVERYTHING from you, Colton! Your men. Your title. Your fed. Your SON. When you have nothing, then you will be TRULY ALL MINE! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Colt's face remained impassive. But a single tear rolled down his cheek. Or maybe it was just sweat, or water...
Turning blue, and neck threatening to crack from the combination of Spike and Colt's strength, Buck looked up into his father's eyes.
"Let go. Now."
At once, Spike and Colt heeded Buck's command.
The prince of the GSA gasped for breath, falling forward. Glaring blades of ice at Serpent, he whipped his head to his father. "Dad. Out of it. Do as I say."
Colt blinked. "Hm?"
"WHAT?" Serpent gasped. "HOW IS THIS-"
But he didn't get far before a jaw, crackling with electricity, collided with his face. Only the burst of thunder overhead drowned the noise of Serpent's jaw cracking. He fell backwards, into the water, which resumed its lucid, crystalline composition.
The heavens opened and the deluge came, thick curtains of water, flooding the bleachers, washing over the audience. All of them blinked and came to within seconds of each other, friends and family turning to each other to confirm what had just happened to him.
Spike, among them. "OH GODDESS!" He said, throwing his arms around Buck. "Bucky! I didn't mean to hurt ya!"
Emotionally and physically compromised, Buck gently pushed him away. "Don't worry. It was kind of hot when you did. We'll unpack this later."
"Oh nooo," Spike said, throwing himself back at Buck and sobbing into his chest. "I'm s-sorry. I would never." He stopped and sniffed the air. "What's that...odd, musky scent."
"Spike, calm down!"
Spike lowered his head. "Yes, sir. I'll do anything you say sir.
"UGH!" Buck slapped his head. It was already enough he'd just had his collar bone broken by his best friend, and his neck cracked like an egg by his father's own hand, he was now soaked to the bone too. "Why are you acting so weird all of a sudd--OH SHIT, LOOK!"
In the torrent of rain, Colt walked tall towards his target, nursing his jaw on the ground. Overhead, lightning flashed, the same color as Colt's glowing eyes. He looked no longer human, but a celestial harbinger of vengeance.
His voice was low and quiet, barely audible over the rain on the mirror, disrupting the reflection. "Did you rally think I didn't know how my own damn magick worked, SNAKE?"
Colt kicked the serpent in the ribs, sending him into convulsions of pain.
Still, the villain protested. "Not...possible. How!?"
Colt looked down at him, planting a boot on the soft bits of his trunks, threatening to bring it down. "First, NEVER TOUCH SOMEONE WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT. And second..." He smiled wickedly. Been practicing shocking myself in my bath tub for weeks."
Now, Serpent realized his folly. He'd been duped. "But...my enchantment."
"Oh, you nearly had me alright," Colt laughed. "You definitely made it an interesting match. You're many things, Serpent. Heartless. Vain. Manipulative. And you got bad breath on top of it all! Seriously, pop a mint next time, bucko. BUT one thing you ain't? Boring."
Strangely, despite everything, and himself, Serpent cracked a smile. "Just...like old times." He tried to flash his eyes again, hoping to catch Colt off guard-
He pressed the boot down.
"AIII!" Serpent squeaked. "My huevos."
"Spellbreaking ain't just muscle and magick," Colt explained. "It's brains, too! Wisdom comes with age. And while you've been resorting to the same dirty tactics you did in your last match, I been learning. From my boys." He lowered his head and looked over at his son. "That's what it means to grow old the right way. Listening. Changing. Adapting. Knowing to admit when you're wrong."
"As if I would ever--" Serpent snarled.
Colt drove his boot down further into Serpent's groin.
Serpent gasped. "FUCK!"
He went quiet again, but the storm ahead roared stronger.
"You insulted my mentor and hurt my men. And then, hoss....you threatened my boy and tried to turn me against him. That'd make any man ornery."
The crowd, and serpent for that matter, couldn't believe what they were seeing. Colt's hair, despite the wetness, stood on end. He was levitating half an inch above the ground, eyes glowing.
"BUT I AIN'T JUST ANY MAN, BOY. I AM THE STORM. AND NOW...JUSTICE IS WROUGHT!"
The sky flashed. And then, accompanying the sound of the Earth splitting in two, a zig zag of bright, intense lightning came down and struck both Colt and Serpent. The crowd screamed, shielding their eyes. The lighting rig over head exploded into a shower of sparks. When the audience could at last make sense of everything, they gasped at what they saw before them, in the ARENA.
Colt's lightning strike had done its damaged. A crystalized tower of salt, at least seven feet tall, stood where the bolt had struck. Splayed atop it, body smoking and eyes rolled in the back of his head, Serpent's body twitched. His gear had melted onto his skin. It was a miracle his skin hadn't been burnt off. Yet, Colt had made his mark. Bright red lines, in the pattern of Serpent's nervous system, ran across his torso, marking the path of the electricity. He had been defeated. Branded by the cowboy king.
Kneeling in front, barely keeping it together, Colt the bolt sputtered. "Don't...don't worry," he sighed. "He's still breathing. Er...I think. Oh...Lady, I need a nap..." He stood. He stumbled. He looked over at Buck and met his eyes.
Buck, who felt as if he might join his father in collapsing, smiled back.
Colt gave his son a thumbs up, before his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell back into the water.
Buck was on it at once. "MEDICS! NOW!"
As the medics at the side of the ring jumped into action, Buck Harlow called the match. He was not his normal explosive self. Instead, he proclaimed every word with the holy tones of a preacher. Above the ring, the clouds parted, bright and clear, restoring the mirrored salt flat to its crystal clarity.
Spike looked up at the sun and smiled. Though it was faint and imperfect, a trace of a rainbow appeared overhead.
Still, he was left with confusion. He looked at Buck, who appeared mid-prayer, hands folded on the side of the railing. He waited for him to finish before he spoke.
"Buck...how did you manage to shake Serpent's spell?"
"No idea," Buck said. He hoisted himself over the barrier, onto the other side. "Too busy right now."
Spike watched him run to his father's side. Colt had already risen off the ground, and now the medics primary concern was how the hell they were going to get poor Serpent down from his salty gallows. Buck and Colt exchanged words, but it wasn't Spike's business to hear them. With pride in his heart, and great relief, he wandered out of the throng of excited fans. He'd truly witnessed a legendary match.
Now, to get El Amante back.
But first, churros.
"Oh ffffuck, daddy...so good. Yeah, right in my mouth..."
In the staging tent behind the salt plain arena, Spike shovelled cinnamon, sugary goodness into his gob.
He rolled his eyes with pleasure. "I'm such a slut for churros," he said, munching down. He'd made sure to snack behind one of the step-and-repeats for spellbreaker promo pics. Nobody could see him indulge in his stress-eating.
Better than sex, Spike thought. Well, almost better...
It was then, and only then, that Spike realized he hadn't been so sly about pigging out. He looked up, across the way.
The churro nearly fell out of his mouth.
It was a good thing the man's body was wrapped in a gold cape. Spike couldn't imagine how ripped and godly he must looked underneath it all. He was a giant, even bigger than Mr. Iron. Curious of all, was the spellbreaker's gold mask, resembling something like a wolf or canine.
Spike turned red. He swallowed what was in his mouth. "Huh? Oh. Er.. Hola! Soy Spike! Me encanta." Oh shit, did I say that right? Think I needed more upside down exclamation points...
The strange luchador regarded him for a moment, wordlessly. It was a little creepy. Spike had never seen this fighter before, which he thought impossible, as the man was massive! Must be a local, rising talent.
When at last the golden masked fighter spoke, his voice was sonorous and metallic. "Your Spanish needs work, but the effort is commendable."
Spike couldn't place the accent, but it wasn't local. Still, and despite the man's ominous presence, there was something about him that made Spike feel...almost at ease. Like he was talking to an old friend.
Spike turned on his winning smile. "Oh, sorry! I thought you were one of our spellbreakers."
The golden mask nodded. "Ha! Perhaps, once."
He couldn't help it. Spike whistled. "Wow. You are huuuuge. Have we like, met before?"
"Have met. Will met. Same difference." The masked man turned his head sideways, towards the bright exit. "Seems you GSA boys are in a bit of a bind, no? Perhaps you should hand the chalice over to me."
It hit Spike hard and fast. He was quicker on the uptake than he'd expected. Immediately, Spike balled his hand into a fist. "You with Firebird, mistah'? I owe you a knuckle sandwich. No. A whole-ass knuckle HOAGIE! Why I ouughtta'..."
The gold mask reared his head back and laugh. That was enough to put Spike in his place. "And even if I was, could you hope to stand a chance against me?" He took a step forward. Spike flinched. The masked man held out a hand, dark and rich in complexion, signalling that he meant Spike no harm.
"I understand something terrible has happened to El Amante."
"Yeah..." Spike said, sadly.
"Hmm. I have my reasons, but I simply do not like seeing such pure souls corrupted. Therefor, allow me impart you with some wisdom, young dearest. Love is a kind of energy too. It is the driving force behind all things."
Spike blinked. Everyone these days was so confusing. Scratching the back of his neck, Spike chose to be candid. "Well, I wouldn't know the first thing about love, sir. I'm a mess."
The gold mask nodded, perhaps empathetically. "Love comes in many forms, dear one. Many forces do, in fact. You've been thinking too small, Spike, but perhaps this is not your fault. It is not intelligence you lack, dearest. You are a pure soul."
Spike wasn't sure if he should be flattered or suspicious. Something was odd about this whole situation. He looked to his left, back where a group of children had gathered around the churro cart. It looked almost like they weren't moving at all.
Wait, nothing was...
Wait, this is...so familiar. Spike shook his head. "Look, mister, I don't know what you're saying, or what you're doing, but you give me a bad vibe!"
"Because I am something you merely do not understand." The man in the golden mask bowed, and it was then that Spike finally put everything together.
Gold mask. This was probably the same big bastard who'd been there in Vegas, backstage.
"I do not fault you," the massive fighter continued. "Just remember this, dear one--your glyph is more powerful than you know. The Alchemists would kill to possess someone who can transmute energy the way you can."
Spike tried to find the right words. What could he possibly say to this...being? He was out of his depth. "Who are you?"
"I am the beginning," he said, without hesitation. "And the end. I am he who weighs the spirit of men. The judge. The executioner. The redeemer." He leaned forward, giving Spike a dramatic bow. For a split second, Spike saw beneath his robe.
Holy shit. Spike immediately turned red, and found himself tighten in his pants. There were bodybuilders. Then there were gods. This...man, or whatever he was, was likely the latter.
"Farewell for now, dear one. And...good luck."
Spike blinked, and the man was gone. Reality returned to its normal state. Time flowed anew, and Spike was left alone, with churro crumbs on his face and cinnamon sugar on his hands, pondering the nature of reality.
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