"You did WHAT?"
Camazotz Jr. roared into the handheld radio receiver, gingerly stepping over the body of an unconscious Aradia security guard. There was no need to keep his voice down, of course. All seven guards had fallen to him with little resistance. The wicked bat god turned a corner, ignoring the smell of mildew, steel, and old wood inside the dusty warehouse in Oaxaca. He still couldn't believe the boss had forced him to come out this far.
The radio crackled back. Even far away, Serpent's cold, deep voice inspired obedience. "Mind your tone when you speak to me, Junior." The man paused. "Am I not a man of honor? A deal is a deal. The GSA won. The Chalice is theirs. I told Colt where he can find Victor. This is out of our hands now."
Camazotz Jr. glared at a swinging lightbulb overhead, finally settling his eyes on the metal case set on the shelf, deliberately indistinguishable from the others. "You're just going to hand him over?" he sniffed, checking the label for the right serial number. This was the one. Inside was the Chalice that El Amante's bitch of a cousin had whisked away, right under his nose.
"I never said that. They'll still need to beat him and break the curse."
"Well, that's all very well and good, but I'm already at Aradia's warehouse! I have the case with the chalice at my finger tips, just as you said I'd find it."
"Pull back, Junior. It's...over."
This had to be a joke! Camazotz Jr. even suspected intentional sabotage, or a rouse.
Very well, then. A minor inconvenience. He had a plan B, anyway. What were years of allegiance to Serpent when someone else had already presented a smoother deal? Besides, it was in a rudo's nature to betray...
"Have you heard of the man in the Gold Mask?" Serpent asked. "Also known as The Jackal."
Camazotz lifted the metal briefcase off the shelf. It was heavier than he expected. "You're talking nonsense, boss!"
Serpent's tone was not insulted, or intemperate, but chillingly patient. "Camazotz Jr. Listen. I have spoken with this...man. I have made my decision based off the intelligence I have received. Los Venoms no longer shares a common interest with Firebird. For now, we assist the GSA. This is simply practicing good business, amigo. There's no sense in maintaining a dominion if there is nobody left to dominate, and if Firebird gets its way-"
"Traitor!" Camazotz Jr. spat. He couldn't believe this! "First T. Rex, now you? Cowards! I'll go my own way then."
"You are making a mis-"
Beep.
Growling, Camazotz Jr. switched the channel, welcoming the rush of new static.
"No, Serpent. It is YOU who is mistaken."
The bat brushed aside fast food wrappers piled on the security desk and placed the case down. He dialled the frequency his contact at Firebird had given him. It was time to make a deal.
"Hello. This is the number, yes? Los Venoms is over. Consider this my defection. I will give you your chalice."
"Understood," came the unfamiliar voice on the other end. Was that a woman? Strange accent too...
"Grrr." Camazotz Jr. switched off the receiver and placed it next to the case. He sighed. What a shit night this had been.
Trying to recompose himself, he decided to check the contents. It would look very bad for him if he handed over an empty case, after all. He flipped the clasps up and opened the case.
"Now...let's see...WHAT?"
He had barely time to register the arrow-headed snake, reared up and fangs bared, as it hissed and sunk its teeth into his hand.
"AGH!" Camazotz Jr. screamed, reeling back. He clamped his hand down on his bloody injury. He backed away. The snake slithered out of the case, onto the table, away from him. The box had been empty. Well, almost. Inside, a small cassette player, triggered by the opening of the case, started playing.
Camaztoz Jr. felt his head fog up and his body tingle. Something was wrong. He'd been envenomated. In a panic, he called out. "Someone...he-"
But his voice failed him, his muscles spasming. The paralysis took hold, driving him first to his knees, and then flat onto the ground. He shook and seized, eyes bloodshot and going wide. A trickle of foam poured out of his mouth.
Serpent's familiar voice came from the tape deck hidden inside the case. "If you're listening to this, Camazotz Jr., then you've probably realized by now that you've just made your last mistake. Nobody turns their back on Los Venom. Consider this my vengeance on behalf of Dark Sabre and his son, El Amante Intoxico. The slate has been wiped clean. Farewell, old friend. Til we reunite...in Hell."
As the light faded from Camazotz Jr.'s eyes, the broad, intimidating man watching from the shadows finally stepped out into the light between the shelves. In his hand, the topaz colored Chalice of Will.
Dressed in a proper button-up shirt and well-tailored pants (complete with an ammonite printed necktie) the masked T. Rex's eyes glimmered in the dark, matching his eerie grin.
"Hehehe. Tough luck, little bat! Should have played nicer!"
---
"Now, you die, you worthless twink."
"Gee, Amante, you could at least do me the solid of spitting on me if you're gonna call me a worthless twink!"
The 'Dark' El Amante (Spike refused to call him by his new moniker, El Odio) held Spike up by the shoulders, several feet off the canvas. The beefy, brainwashed, masked hunk dug his claws in deep, bruising the fair skinned Spike's muscular shoulder muscles.
Inside the humid, misty auditorium, the audience held their breath, hands covering faces. Colt hung his head. "This is my fault..." he said under his breath. He'd already lost one student when El Amante turned 'dark'. Now, he was about to lose another. He prayed the soma would be enough to preserve Spike's internal organs and bones from being completely obliterated by El Amante.
In the weeks since he'd been cursed by the Obsidian Tablet, Victor, or El Amante Intoxico, had ended every match by KO'ing his opponent and then digging in, long after the bell had rung. Curb stomps. Haymakers to the face. Bone-ripping holds. He had dismantled everyone who had gotten into a ring with him. By the second official match, he'd been disqualified, instead moving on towards the underground fight scenes in Central America.
Mr. Iron had been tracking his movements for weeks. El Amante was without a master. He had become a living force of sheer hate, compelled to brutality and violence. Just as Lily had warned, his was an insatiable bloodlust.
And now, Spike was in the ring with him, and in a very bad spot. His pretty noggin was about to be turned into flan.
Eyes burning bright green under the Tablet's curse, El Amante sneered at his prey. "You came into the GSA like you were the new alpha, forgetting we already had a bull in this stable. You're no stud like me, Spike. You're just a little boy. I think I'll rip your DICK OFF!"
"Woahhhhh," Spike said, choking back laughter. "I know the real Victor is in there, because that just sounds ridiculous!" He tried not to let the pain show on his face, even though he was forcing his legs to kick and struggle on instinct. "El Amante Intoxico is bad at heat; everyone knows it. His heart is too big to threaten. I mean, hell, you're the only guy I know who gives after care to his opponents!"
El Amante clamped down harder. Spike bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out.
"You'll believe me alright, when I hurricanrana your blonde head into porridge!"
"What the hell is porridge?"
"It's like a type of OATMEAL. NOW...Get ready to die!"
I'm really not ready to die, Spike thought to himself. He was out of options.
Well, every option but one, he remembered, as his thoughts drifted back to the day before...strangely enough to the same place where he was probably about to end up (if he was lucky).
The hospital.
---
Shockingly, Spike had never found himself inside a hospital before. He chalked it up to the protection of his glyph. He'd sustained some pretty tough falls (without soma or other magickal intervention) in his 23 years on Earth, but his ability to transmute energy had always absorbed, or off-set, any impact.
Walking through the brightly lit, sterile corridors of the lakeside hospital now, Spike was taken in by how efficient and focused the staff were. He'd grown up hearing a lot of prejudiced comments about the capabilities of countries below Texas, and he was glad to see they were all wrong. The place was state of the art.
After speaking with the receptionist, Spike followed the signs (using his rudimentary Spanish skills) to the correct wing and corridor. The halls were lined with large windows, letting in natural light from the beautiful landscape outside. Nurses chatted with patients, carting along IV drips, on mid morning strolls. Despite the inherent nature of the building as a place for the sick and injured, the atmosphere was lively and positive. Spike felt at ease.
A young, curly haired nurse laughed, walking out of Iggy's private room. "For the millionth time, it's a fine lyric. I'm sure you'll change it again the next time I come to check your vitals."
Yep. This was the right room. Spike tapped the green sticker on his navy striped, cut-off t-shirt, indicating he was a visitor. The nurse nodded for him to proceed.
At first, Spike didn't recognize the attractive, muscular figure sitting up in the hospital bed, a notebook in their hand. Iggy's pink-rimmed glasses were familiar, but his brunette hair was definitely not. He looked like a cross between a metal head and a high school secretary (and still, somehow, ridiculously sexy).
The androgynous Brazilian looked up and frowned on instinct, before their eyes filled with starlight. "Padrãozinho?" They said. Wincing, they pushed their glasses up the bridge of their nose. "Or...am I in hell now?"
Spike gave them a sheepish shrug, and shut the door behind them. "Nah, it's just me." He looked around the room. It was pretty minimal. A blue privacy curtain. A bedside table. A notebook with pen rested in Iggy's lap. They wore a white, hospital gown. Behind them, the open window let in a fresh breeze from the clear day outside.
Iggy grunted and gestured for their apprentice to approach. "Hugs. Now."
"Yes, mistress."
Spike leaned over, somewhat awkwardly, and found themselves pulled into Iggy's tight embrace. "No, Igg--"
"Oh, yes," Iggy said, laughing, smushing Spike's face into their chest. "You didn't think you'd escape a tiddy smother, did you? No bullet could stop me from that."
Spike laughed, holding onto their friend's big arm. It felt like comfort. "I was afraid. Please do not get shot again."
"But it was so much fun the first time! Ah, the healing hugs of a twunk. No better medicine."
Spike pulled back to allow them some breathing room. His eyes were on Iggy's IV drip. "Are you...okay?"
Iggy shrugged. "Nothing major. Here, I can even..." The spellbreaker tried to reposition themselves, legs swinging over the bed. But not even they could maintain a poker face.
"Eeesh," Iggy said through clenched teeth. "That hurts good."
Spike's paternal instincts took over. "Hey, hey, don't stand up! Take it easy."
In typical Iggy fashion, the Light magi rebuffed him, forcing himself onto his feet. "The nurses want me to try standing. A little bit each day." He pointed to the window. "Push those curtains back and open the window. Now."
Still so bossy, Spike thought, hiding his eye-roll but otherwise doing as told. He threw back the curtains, letting in more light and air. "Woah..."
Outside, Lake Chucuito sparkled like polished silver. Cradled by green mountains, with a bright, blue sky overhead, it cast its own enchantment over Spike. Far off in the distance, Spike noted a golden aura coming from a distant island. He felt a familiar tug in his heart, the same sensation he'd experienced when he set eyes on the Chalice of Will.
It had to be the Isla Del Sol, the location of the Divine Wellspring.
Iggy dragged his IV drip, on wheels, over to Spike's side. "Beautiful, no?"
At last, Spike was able to free his eyes from the lake's spell. He looked over at Iggy. Beneath the hospital gown, he could see the faint outline of bandages and wraps across Iggy's hip.
"They hit me in the left quadrant," Iggy explained, with a proud smile on his face. The light from the outdoors made him shimmer. Even in hospital, the hunk was beautiful. "Dodged my intestines by less than a centimetre. My mother always did say I was born under a lucky star..."
Spike's heart was sore at the thought that he had even come close to losing his teacher. "How long do you think you'll be out?"
"Heh." Iggy sighed. "Longer than I'd like to say out loud. It's...fine."
Spike bit his lip. Sounded like it was anything but fine...
"I was thinking of taking a break from spellbreaking anyways and going back to music." They held up the notebook. There was a playful, almost childish excitement in their voice. "I've got almost a whole album's worth of material here, kitten! By the way, tell anybody you saw with my natural haircolor and I'll put you in here with me."
Spike gulped. "Gah! Yes, master. Um...but if it counts for anything, your hair looks great. In any color."
"Heh." Iggy smiled and brushed back their rock star mane, sending glittery sparkles out from their luscious locks. "Good kitten. My roots were coming in so I rinsed the pink out. I forgot how...'normal' I could look. It's disgusting, no?"
"Iggy, you would need to try very hard to look disgusting..."
Iggy smiled at their friend. They defaulted to silence, looking upon the beautiful waters of the sacred lake instead. "You know...it feels kinda weird being back on my home continent."
Spike blinked. A hamster in a wheel inside his brain went to work. "Oh yeah, Brazil!"
"Heh. You Americanos don't understand how vast and varied all the countries are in South America. It's familiar, and yet not. I've never been to Bolivia before." They smiled.
"Well, that makes two of us. Was the transfer to the hospital a hassle?"
"No. Like I said, I'm very lucky. The doctors said I should be out within another week."
"Have you decided where you'll go next?"
A shadow crossed Iggy's beautiful visage. "Hmm. That entirely depends on what happens with Victor. I tell you, it's a damn good thing I'm stuck in this hospital. Otherwise, I would have destroyed the world to get him back."
Spike didn't doubt it. Iggy was scary, and had the magick to back it up. Sometimes, they reminded Spike of one of the villains from Kengo's manga.
Still, Iggy was different with Spike than they were in-ring. He was more vulnerable, for one. But he never showed it n his voice. Still smiling confidently, Iggy said, "I...feel useless. It's almost an exciting, new feeling."
"You aren't." I am.
They shook their head. "Kitten, my lover has been enchanted by magick older than I can comprehend. I'm not just a good magi, I'm fucking brilliant. But this? This shit is above me." They turned back to their night stand and grabbed a cup of water. Spike wondered, briefly, if it was to disguise a restrained sob.
Even on the down-and-out, Iggy oozed charisma. There was something about them that made one want to lean forward and listen. "I've been in touch with my mother, the professor. She's looked into the matter. Enchantments like this are very hard to break. But there is one type of magick that could do the trick. The oldest kind in fact." Iggy laughed at the absurdity of it. "Cheesy as it sounds...it's 'love'. Well, more the complex neuro-chemical reactions we call 'love', but let's not split hairs."
Genuinely impressed that Iggy had been hard at work, even while struggling against injury, Spike took a moment to gather his thoughts. He grinned, ear to ear. "Master...how dare you say you were useless..."
Though Spike knew the compliment had probably landed, Iggy was off on their own tangent now, circling around the hospital floor, carting along their IV drip. It was an almost comical sight.
"Problem is, kitten, they really don't want me to try and face Victor myself, which is ironic, as I'm probably one of the few hunks in the GSA who could kick his ass. Maybe. I've fought him before, you know. It's how we met."
"Oh?" Spike said. "Who won that match?"
Iggy thought for a moment, and then winked. "That's a secret. Consider it an incentive for us to stay alive and get Victor back, eh?" He sighed, grasping his head--like an old, grand dame about to faint. "My fair Samuel Waterford. I am searching the cosmos for an answer to this predicament..."
Spike flinched at the sound of his own name, remembering that Iggy had recently heard his own boyfriend's real name for the first time ever. He decided not bring it up. It was probably for the best Iggy not relive that trauma, or even that moment of intimacy.
And besides all that, something more important had forced its way to the forefront of Spike's mind. He spoke it aloud as he recollected. "Love is a kind of energy."
"Huh?" Iggy blinked, flittering trough the pages of their notebook. "Did...did I write that lyric down?"
"No," Spike said, completely serious. "It's something someone said to me, recently. Look, stud, I...have never really believed in myself. 'Til recently, anyway. I'm just starting to understand my own powers."
"You are most welcome for that, by the way."
"Fair enough, Master, but listen. In the Navy, we learn that when all other options fail, we gotta' be inventive. Now, I haven't always been the most smartest person, but I've gotten a lot better. So, let's do something risky. Let's plan--"
"WAIT." Iggy suddenly shouted, causing Spike to nearly jump out of his sneakers. "Wait, wait, wait don't you DARE interrupt me now--I am having a moment of geniusssss."
Spike stood back, worried Iggy was about to explode. The light in the room grew brighter. Spike looked towards the window, at the sunlit lake, but soon recognized that light was coming from, well, Iggy.
The rock star spellbreaker tossed their hair back, sending a rainbow flurry of sparkles around the room. They conjured up a glowing, neon heart, orbited by a cycling ring of green arrows.
"Love."
"Yes. Heard of it before. Not that I would know..."
"Love is a kind of energy," Iggy said, flicking the circling ring of arrows around his light construct, sending them spinning faster. "It causes a pattern of synapses and electricity in the brain, with its own energy signature. And when it comes to Viki, kitten, I have that energy in abundance." They flicked the light, shattering it into glittery dust, before snapping their fingers at their student. "You. Come here."
Confused, and more than a little hesitant, Spike took a step forward. "Oh, ok--"
He forgot how quick Iggy could be. The hospital-bound spellbreaker wrapped their free hand around Spike's neck, pulling them in close. Intimately close.
Spike promptly turned a deep red. "I-I-IGGY?" This wasn't the first time they had been intimate with their friend, but Iggy was always so damn intense when they turned on the charm.
Iggy stared down at Spike with eyes full of adoration. "Spike. I'll say this once. I am so grateful you've come into my life. I love seeing other perspectives. For someone so dumb, you really do make me think."
Spike was at a loss for words. "Iggy..."
"I'm kidding about you being dumb, by the way. You know I think you're brilliant. And...I want to show it to you, from my heart. But also, I want to kiss you like I would kiss him."
!!!
Spike sputtered, but they didn't dare remove themselves from Iggy's iron grip. "WHAT! I don't understand."
"Oh, you will." Iggy winked. "Buckle up, kitten..."
For such a brutal fighter, Iggy's lips were the softest in the world. He kissed lightly, but powerful, with the tip of his tongue just coquettishly teasing the inside of Spike's mouth. Befitting a relentless warrior, however, Iggy didn't let up once he had their lips on you. Spike suspected he was really into making out...
But this time was different. Whatever Iggy was doing, it made Spike melt into an aether of ecstasy and warmth. He felt pure light wash over him, enter his body. Was this magick, or something else? He kissed back, mindful of Iggy's injury, but pulling him in tighter. It was only then that he had to remind himself that Iggy's heart belonged to another. What Spike would have given to experience this with someone else...
At last, Iggy let go.
Spike had to take a deep breath to prevent himself from stumbling backwards. "Oh...that was...better than sex." He looked down at his hands and arms. "Oh...I'm glowing again. Just like back in Vegas." He smiled.
Iggy winked. "Remember, what happens in Vegas..."
It was only then that Spike realized his glyph had activated. It was just something one knew, as a magi, a kind of warmth and electricity in the chest. "I feel...different," Spike said. "What just happened?"
"I'll explain later," Iggy said, already withdrawing back to their bed, "but we just combined magick. Yours...and a type of magick for which the Goddess didn't even need to invent a glyph. The oldest magick of all. We might just have a chance now."
Spike didn't need to try and think about it. "I know what I need to do tonight." Even he was in awe of his confidence. "Shit, even three months ago I don't think I coulda' sound like that. I mean, who do I think I am, White Tiger?"
Iggy rolled their eyes. "Hopefully less of a goodie-two-shoes."
"You know goodie-two-shoes with an ass like mine?"
"Once you learn to think before you speak, you'll get somewhere far." Iggy poked Spike on the nose. "I can say this now, since it looks like I'll be out of the running for a good while, but...I think...you really do have a shot at being the next GSA champion."
Where was the catch? Spike stared blankly ahead, for several seconds, until he realized there was none. "...Iggy."
The wounded spellbreaker sat back down, with some discomfort, reclining like a Greek god on a dais. They yawned. "I mean, either you, Kengo, or Cian, anyway. So don't get your hopes up too much. Now, run along, kitten. Go get my boyfriend back for me." They winked. "Or I'll kill you!"
As Spike's shoulder blades buckled under El Amante's powerful grip, he realized that Iggy's boyfriend was about to do the job for him, first.
"Before you die," Victor hissed, "I want you to feel what I feel. Understand that your beloved El Amante is GONE and is NEVER coming back." His eyes turned, from spectral green, to abyssal black. "Sweet hatred. Let it take hold."
"Gah!" This time, Spike did buckle back, as he was blasted with a wave of intense, negative emotion. He looked towards the ref, already knocked out (El Amante didn't care about the pinfall). "Victor....stop."
"I will NEVER stop," El Amante said, hollow and cold. "Poor, lost little Spike. Abandoned by his parents. Abandoned by every group he attempts to worm his way into. Sleeping around just to try and fill that emptiness in your heart, always wanting. Take it from me, a fellow abandoned...it will NEVER be enough. So, embrace the abyss, child. Turn dark before I consign you to oblivion!"
God, he even talks like a manga villain now--this is so annoying. Unfortunately, Victor's dark, 'inverted' magick was more potent than struggling Spike could hope to resist. His glyph of the mind, which once compelled people towards love, was poisoned. The venom corrupted Spike's mind. It took the form of a diseased, rabid, skeletal hound, digging up the graveyard inside--all the buried, bad thoughts.
Being punched, kicked, spat on, by the other boys in the orphanage. Spike recalled when his glyph awoke. It had awoke out of fear and hatred, in a moment of retaliation. Maybe anger is my natural state. Who am I kidding, playing a babyface?
As these thoughts swelled and boiled up inside Spike's darkening mind, El Amante raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "Interesting...how very interesting."
The corrosion continued. Spike remembered the Navy, being called out for his feminine voice, for his stature, bullied and belittled. He remembered sleeping with officers who wouldn't look at him in the dining hall or give him the time of day, just so he could feel wanted for awhile.
I should have overloaded the boiler and watched the whole ship sink into the bay, Spike thought, angrily. Those fucking assholes, thinking they were heroes for defending their country, when they would happily spit on the people they sword an oath to protect...
"VERY good," El Amante laughed. He turned around, sensing a great swell of concern from someone in the audience, even among the scared and helpless crowd. He locked eyes with Colt the Bolt. Still defiant. Never without hope.
"I'll take him from you," El Amante roared. "I'll take away your hope, Colt!"
But the cowboy king just narrowed his eyes. And beside him, Buck crossed his arms. "Tamberly boys don't give up on nobody," Colt said under his breath. He didn't care that El Amante couldn't hear him from.
Next to him Buck's knuckles turned white, gripping his chair. "Fight it, Spike. If there's anyone of us innocent and kind enough to turn back El Amante, it's your golden retriever ass."
Spike thought of the GSA, how it had been a beacon of redemption in a clouded sea. No, not a sea. Like the salt flats from the other day, it was a mirror, held up for Spike to realize all of his weaknesses, doubts, and insecurities. Where were the victories? He was worthless. Colt had probably brought him on just to job for the other talent. Make them look good at his expense. He had tried to find friends, only for them to turn their backs on him. Rosa was leaving, chasing her own glory. Kengo was almost never around. Cian hated him (and the feeling was mutual). Iggy preferred using him as a punching bag than a pupil. And the others ignored him.
And Buck...
El Amante narrowed his eyes. "Hmm? What was that?"
Buck. Cocky and brash, yet insecure and vulnerable at once. He probably just clung on to Spike because he was an easy target. Something to use.
No...that didn't make sense. Buck, always there with a smile, a well-meant tease, or words of encouragement. Buck, strong and kind, who only wanted to bring beauty to the world.
And there was beauty in the world, Spike remembered, feeling this odd sensation inside his chest start to grow. If Victor and Iggy could be so in love, and so devoted to each other, than one would challenge the gods and the other take a bullet on their behalf...well, that had to mean there was some redemption, right?
Maybe even I have a chance, Spike thought.
"Not possible!" El Amante roared. "My hatred is absolute!"
Spike came out of his trance. "Is that...panic, in your voice, big guy?"
"Ha!" El Amante roared, clenching down hard. "I can hear your fear, clear as a bell. Your bones are but seconds away from breaking under my power. Let me give you an offer. Join me. I will darken your soul. We can cause so much destruction together..."
Kinky, Spike thought. He looked into El Amante's eyes and gave him an evil smile. "On one condition...you finish me off with a bear hug."
In the crowd, Colt and Buck cocked their heads to the side, the same way. "What?"
Even El Amante was confused. "Huh? So, you want my muscles to crush you?" He laughed, maliciously. "You perverted little freak. So be it. I will grant your death wish."
The giant luchador pulled Spike in for a deadly embrace, his boulder biceps and stone-carved pectorals squeezing the young fighter tightly.
"Oh yep," Spike squeeked. "That's...that's what I expected."
"Even if you beg for mercy, I shall not yield!" El Amante whispered. with the dark intent of a serial killer.
"Goddess, Viki, your villain dialogue is so annoying." Spike took ad eep breath (perhaps his last) and tried to get hold of that warm feeling inside, the one that had dispelled the darkness like a lit candle. "I...I have a message from your beloved."
El Amante's eyes were pure black; a starless night. "Is this a feeble attempt at release? Iggy means nothing to me. They were weak..."
"How's this for weak," Spike strained, just as he felt a rib start to buckled. He leaned in, quicker than El Amante could anticipate. Fortunately, Spike was well-versed in targeting lips. He pressed his against his opponent's and willed that warmth inside to activate.
Spike felt something bubble inside, like a fountain. The warmth flowed out from him into El Amante. Either that, or it was his pureed organs coming out of his body through his mouth.
El Amante's tight squeeze on Spike let up. Just a little. Then, more. He didn't resist Spike's kiss. In fact, he stumbled back, as if he'd just been struck in the face.
As one might imagine, the crowd was more than a little bit...perplexed. Some looked to each other in confusion. Others, disgust. A few whistled and hollered encouragement.
Boomer Harlow merely scratched his head. "Well...I guess it really ain't over til the big, beautiful gal belts her last note, folks! In all my years of spellbreaking I ain't never seen a strategy like this. Spike is going for a liplock on El Amante, but what IS he hoping to accomplish? Is he gonna suck out his breath? Folks, I am on the edge of my seat. I should also remind everyone that I am a very heterosexual man."
In desperate need of breathing, Spike pulled back his head and gasped. When he looked down, El Amante's whole appearance had changed. Gone was the dark mask with the broken heart, replaced by rich violet shades, and El Amante's signature, bleeding heart--now whole again. The lustre returned to his kind, warm eyes.
He looked very confused.
But...he relented, brining Spike down to the canvas. Spike, took a deep breath. "OH THANK GODDESS," he squeaked, breathing rapidly. He looked up. "Uh...Viki?"
Victor blinked. "Cara mia," he muttered under his breath. Behind his mask, his face tinged with crimson. "Spike...I feel Iggy's kiss on your lips."
Spike looked around, at the ref, just coming to his senses on the mat; at Boomer Harlow--for once, at a total loss for words--and at Colt and Buck, who weren't sure if they should celebrate quite yet.
Then El Amante, reared back his head. "ESTOY ENAMORADO!" he shouted.
Spike blinked. Then, he was hit in the face by an overwhelming sensation, an almost primal, hungry affection. He couldn't resist. "Oh...oh El Amante. Kiss me again, you beast."
"As if you have to ask, gorgeous," the masked stud said, pulling Spike in for a long, passionate kiss. "Oh, I feel like I have been dreaming! But this is a much better dream."
"Good to have you back," Spike said, catching his breath between long, intense kissing. "Viki, don't ever do that again. Iggy would have killed us all."
Victor went for Spike's neck, dotting it with kisses. "You are my hero, Spike. I...must have your body."
"Take it," Spike said, yanking off his trunks. "It's yours, papi!"
The audience gasped. Thankfully, seeing as it was an El Amante show, it was 18+
Colt immediately covered Buck's eyes. "What in tarnation is happening!?"
Boomer Harlow demurred. "Uh...folks, it seems Spike and El Amante have begun to engage in well...I think this is still a kind of wrestling match but GOOD GRAVY THAT'S HUGE!"
"Oh, Spike!"
"Oh, Viki!"
"Pin me now, guapo, you earned it!"
"Oh fucking fuck, I am going to do so much more than that!"
*wet mouth noises and moans ensured*
In the crowd, Colt, alternating between looking away out of respect for his students privacy, and ogling them out of pure curiosity, suddenly leaned in forward. "Shit," he cursed, "I know what's happening. It's Spike's glyph! He took in Iggy's emotional energy and gave it right back to El Amante, breaking the curse!"
Buck struggled to pull his father's strong hands off his face. "I don't get it! Come on, dad, I just want to see the fight!"
Colt blushed, and gulped. "Well, it's definitely a type of fight, that's for sure. Looks like Spike's powers went a little too far. Seems they're locked in a kind of cycle, with Spike throwing back the...er...'desire' El Amante is pouring into him. It's like a feedback loop, getting stronger each--" Colt cut himself off, as his face went stark white. "Uh...Bucky, we gotta' go!" Colt jumped up out his seat and made a rush for the aisle.
Free of his father's censorship, Buck shook his head. "Dad, where are you OH WOW, SPIKE IS BIGGER THAN I THOUGHT!" He began to salivate. "Dad, where are you--guess he's gone." Buck leaned forward. "This is awesome!"
Then, something...odd began to happen. The audience members started to shift, first, in their seats. A few unbuttoned their shirts, suddenly come over with an unusual heat.
"Oh, Spike. Yes, do it to me. Right here in front of everyone. Take me now!"
"Victor...oh yeah. OH, FUCK YEAH."
Buck looked down. He suddenly felt...tingly. Very tingly. "A feedback loop?" he said. Then, he moaned. "Damn, what is going on?"
Members in the audience suddenly began to moan, matching the action in the ring. Some stood. Others gripped the sides of their seats, breathlessly, heaving. Couples--and those who would go on to become couples--grabbed each other, passionately clawing and pawing, sucking face, overcome with an animalistic desire.
Unbeknownst to all, the whole arena was about to feel the love that night.
Boomer Harlow gripped his collar. As a long-time commenter, he was one of the few who noticed that the dampening runes and crystals in the ring had overloaded, awash in a sensual, pink glow. The magick had poured out of containment, flowing over the audience.
Which meant...
"Uh...folks. I...I think what we're all experiencing is...er...oh damn, oh HOT damn that feels...Oh no. OH NO!" Boomer gripped the table in ecstasy, his eyes shut tight. "D...don't....DON'T TELL MY WIFE! OH....Ohh OOOH YES!"
"Victor!"
"Spike!"
The fire alarm went off, as did the sprinklers, bursting from the pipes. The audience reached an intense climax.
"OhhhOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
And the rest would be far too hot to write out here.
Nobody dared to look at each other, whole van-ride home. Save for Victor and Spike, (now clothed) still wrapped tightly in each other's arms.
Pale faced, Rosa (who had wisely chosen not to attend the show) stared out the window. "So...we're just not gonna--"
"We NEVER speak of this again," Buck said. He looked over at is dad, thankful his father's impulses had... "Oh Goddess, it could have been so much worse."
They came to a stop light. Colt sighed. "Welp. The GSA is gonna need to pay up for everyone's laundry bill--sorry, Bucky, you'll need to--"
"It's fine," Buck said, embarrassed. "I'll do whatever it takes not to think about what just happened."
Somewhere in the back of the van, Victor and Spike giggled knowingly, nauseating everyone else.
"Ruined my best pair of pants," Buck mumbled. He sighed. "Well, at least we got Victor back."
"Thank Goddess," Rosa said. She looked over, smiling, never happier to see her cousin in all her life.
Victor returned her regards, but his expression changed when she was no longer looking. He spoke to Spike, too quiet for everyone else to hear. "I remember...everything."
Spike looked up, deeply in love (he was told it would wear off). He caressed Victor's masked cheek. "Hm?"
"I remember everything that happened. Everything I did. I wasn't able to stop myself." He rested his head against the window. "All those innocent people."
"But none of them died..." Spike said. "At least, I don't think so."
Victor nodded, exhausted. "Even so. I...I never want to experience that type of evil again. There is no place in my heart for hatred." He sighed, looking down at his little friend and spoke at a more audible volume. "You really are my hero, Spike."
"Yeah!" Buck piped up, glad to change the topic. "Dude, you were awesome! How did you know that would work?"
Spike's eyes darted side to side. "I...er...I guess I just know my magick, is all!"
Colt laughed to himself, looking up into the lights of Copacabana. "That so, boy? Well, you did good. Not sure if this qualifies you to move up rank, or not though..."
"He did technically pin me," Victor laughed. "Well, a few times, actually."
Rosa made a face. "Viki, I am RIGHT HERE--stop it!"
Colt smiled, leaning back into his seat. His heart was heavy, but for the first time in days, he knew he'd sleep easier. "I think we all ourselves a few drinks. Rest up, kiddos. Tomorrow we head for the Isla Del Sol. We still have one more thing to do here in town..."
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