The cedar-scented office of the Global Spellbreaking Alliance was a cozy, circular room, part college dean's office and part rambunctious cowboy hideaway. A cow skull head hung on the wall, next to placards and photographs of Colt the Bolt in his heyday. A portrait of a gruff, pink-faced man with a tremendous moustache (bearing striking resemblance to both Colt and his son, Buck) scowled down from over the mantel place, on which slept Buck's Maine coon cat, Zeus.
In a leather upholstered desk chair, Buck Tamblery, a slick new haircut and fancy glasses to his name, toyed with the phone chord in his hands. "Thank you, kindly," he said in his urban, Texan twang. "If that's all well and good, we'll book in for the Dublin show and then...Glastonbury. Great. Have a good day." He hung up, allowing all of the welled-up anxiety to burst through in one, long sigh. "Phew!"
Across from him, watering one of the plants Buck had moved into his erstwhile father's old office, Spike looked up at his friend (now boss) and smiled affectionately. "Hard work?, Mr. President..."
Buck rubbed the bridge of his nose and smiled at his favorite 'stress sponge', Spike. His presence was sorely welcome. "Honestly, not much of a difference, Yankee. I guess I never realized how much of this place I already ran. Still, I can't believe Dad made me interim president while he gets to go off and re-live his glory days." He growled, annoyed. "No, wait, actually...I can."
With that said, Buck turned to his lazy cat. "Hey, Zeusy, rise and shine."
On command, the somewhat comical cat opened his eyes and mewed.
Buck motioned for him. "Don't give me that attitude. Come down and play with Spike."
The car hopped off his perch, and--sure enough--sauntered over to Spike, who affectionally pet him on the head.
"Wow, Buck, your dad was right."
"Hm?"
"About you being good with animals." Spike took the seat across from the mahogany desk. "You know, Varla's daughter was like that too. Did you ever meet her and her kid?"
Buck laughed. "Dad's old flame. And probably the best woman he never married. Definitely not Ma, bless her heart. Yeah, I like Varla. Laurie and I get along fine too. Like the little sister I never hard." Buck took a sip of green tea on his desk. "I heard her glyph awoke recently?"
"Yeah. Nature glyph."
"Lucky. If she had a brother, he'd probably get that one too." Buck glanced over at a small photo frame, smiled, and placed it closer to his friend (and employee). "Lily says the nature glyph is one of the few genetic ones shared by siblings. It skips a generation. She's been researching it."
Spike looked at the picture. He recognized Buck. Even at a young age, he favored basketball shorts as daily attire. However, he didn't recognize the child with him, dressed similarly.
Wait. Maybe he did. Spike squinted. "Who's that kid with you?"
Buck laughed. "You don't recognize her? That's Lily. She went by a different name back then. She's a smart one. Once told me that people have different 'awakenings' across their life. Some people awaken to their glyph, which, of course, she did. But she also awakened to her gender. Seems the two manifested at the same time." The Tamberly heir leaned backed in his chair and rested his cowboy boots on his desk. "The other kids at school bullied her when she did. 'Til dad showed up one day."
"And then what happened?" Spike asked.
"They stopped." Buck grinned, devilishly. "Lily's family and ours have been thick as thieves. I sleep better at night knowing she's watching out for us. Still...I feel like I should have been able to stand up for her, back then. I really hate feeling weak..."
This again, Spike thought. But, he wasn't annoyed. He had his insecurities too. "Hey, if this about what happened in Bolivia, remember that you actually resisted Serpent's magick. Not even your dad or myself could do that."
"Still have no idea how it happened either," Buck said, deep in thought.
Across the room, Zeus perked his head up. "Meow."
"Yeah," Buck said, seemingly to the cat. "I had considered that too..."
Spike looked between cat and man. "You can...understand each other?"
"What, and you can't? Hahaha. Anyways, sounds like dad is having a grand time, crushing men's skulls and re-living his glory days. Hell, I'd say the old man probably needed it." Buck glanced over at a postcard his father had sent him from Nairobi, full of its solar powered skyscrapers and skyways. "I still can't get over the fact that my dad, the biggest clown on Earth, was the guy who made you realized you were..."
Spike blushed. "Hey, speaking of awakenings, right?" Still, Spike picked up on Buck's low mood. "I know being GSA president must feel kinda' weird still, but you're doing so well, bud! And...I know your dad did this because it keeps you grounded and he doesn't have to worry about managing the GSA while he's out fighting Firebird."
"Oh, a thinly-disguised manipulation that somehow benefits someone else while at the same time elevates him and makes him look good? Gee..." Buck sighed. "Dad is a deeply frustrating man."
Spike could tell he was fumbling the ball. Buck had summoned him here to discuss the next show, but Spike had ulterior motives. After much encouragement from the others, Spike had decided to ask Buck to get drinks or coffee with him.
I.e. a date.
But now it felt like he'd lost the opportunity. Getting into the ring with scary monster men was easy. Asking boys out? Impossible.
Instead, Spike's eyes settled randomly on a portrait opposite the late Oxnard Tamberly. It was smaller picture, to be sure, but its subject seemed to extend her influence beyond the frame. She was a rather intense, dark skinned woman in a prairie dress, with white hair pulled into a bun. She balanced one hand on a gilded cane. The other hand was clutched around a Cuban cigar.
"Who's the scary lady?" Spike asked, nodding to the portrait.
"Huh? Oh! That's the actual President of Texas. Madame Wilma Hidalgo. She's a fan of spellbreaking. Shares the same glyph as dad's, too. Anyways, on to business..."
"All ears, Mr. President."
"You're booked in for the Dublin show in a few weeks. Then, on to Glastonbury. It's a bit off the beaten path, but it's an important show." Buck lowered his glasses and tapped to a Shiner beer stein on the desk. "*cough* *cough*"
Spike stared ahead, blankly. Next to him, Zeus scowled and resumed his nap in the carpet.
"We're...getting a beer sponsorship?" Spike proposed.
"No!" Buck said, slapping his forehead in frustration. He mouthed: the Chalice.
"Ohhh. That."
"T. Rex said the Divine Chalice of Compassion is hidden in Glastonbury, England, former seat of the Alban Empire. Sadly, that's all the information we have. Lily is supposed to reach out on a secure line soon to hammer out the details concerning where to find it and how to keep it out of Firebird's hands. As for the Dublin match--"
Spike jumped out of his seat, with all the intensity of a man about to swing fists in a bar brawl. "Who am I fightin'!? Sailor is on a roll!"
"Yes, actually, on to that." Buck leaned forward and adjusted himself to look more professional. "As your friend, I want to keep up the encouragement. You're now at the Silver Star level after almost a year in. That's big. You're also gaining in popularity, especially with the male demographic."
Spike's response to this was a flirty wink.
"But, as your boss, it is my job to select the best opponent for you--to keep up an interesting 'storyline'. That said, there is someone else at the GSA on a similar level to you. And...it's been a long time coming."
Spike strained his brain to think. "Uh...Gio? You want me to fight Gio?"
"No," Buck winced. He smiled, devilishly. "Spike, you will be going up against...Cian Enbarr."
"MOTHERFUCKER WANTS ME TO FIGHT FUCKING CIAN!"
"Spike, do not swear." Kengo frowned, tucking his hands into his favorite hoodie, with the cute, anime bear face. "And do not be so loud. I am standing right here."
"Ugh, sorry, bear."
The two fighters walked side by side, on the perimeter of the campus. It was a well travelled path, between the dorms and the stretch of brush leading into the rocky Deadman's Gulch, a little canyon that abutted the Tamberly property (and was supposedly haunted or cursed).
Spike looked up into the blue, Texas sky. He always loved this time of year, back home anyway. The leaves changed color. The weather was perfect. Even though the Sisters said that autumn represented the goddess preparing for slumber, the season always felt to Spike like a time of newness.
"At least it's almost Halloween," Spike said, shifting towards more pleasurable topics. "I'm even wearing pumpkin underwear right now!"
Kengo acknowledge this. "We do not celebrate Halloween in Japan," Kengo said. "Which is good. We already have one time of the years for when the spirits are active. With my spirit glyph, they always stop to ask us to pass messages on to their families and it gets tiring. I do not think I could do another. But I am happy you like it. I like the candy part. What is your favorite candy?"
"That's easy," Spike said, flexing his bicep. "Muscle Munchies! They come with trading cards of hunky beast guys." He blushed. "Um...not that I'm into that sort of thing, y'know. Anyways, I hope the GSA does something fun for Halloween. It's the one time of year where it's socially acceptable to dress like a slut."
Big Kengo looked at him, incredulously. "But...Spike. You always dress like a slut."
"HEY!" Spike, red faced, said, sticking up his fist. "What's the big idea, big guy?"
Kengo laughed. "You are easy to rile up."
"Not true," Spike scoffed, crossing his arms. "I am the very picture of calm."
A rustle in the trees drew their attention back to the path. Spike and Kengo looked up, at the stocky, young man running towards them from out of the brush.
Spike squinted, then registered just who it was coming their way. "OH, LOOK AT THIS ASSHOLE COMING OVER HERE!" Speak of the fuckin' devil.
Red faced, sweaty, and panting, Cian (in his green workout shorts and black tank top) nearly collapsed at their feet. Spike immediately put aside any derision for his rival. Something was up.
"Spike," Cian wheezed, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Kengo!"
Spike crossed his arms. "I guess you heard we're going to be fighting, huh? Trying to get some extra cardio in? Well that's not gonna save you from my Anchors Away!!!" I'm not gonna even facepin ya, either. You don't deserve it...
"Never mind that, boyo. I need your help." The buff red-head took in a deep, gulp-full of air. "Icewolf went off to train at Deadman's Gulch and he hasn't been back yet! I fucked up. He was trying to get me to come do squats with him and I told him I was busy. You know how he always hovers around me these days...."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, wow, what a terrible problem to have the oversexed muscle jock giving you all the--"
Cian cut him off. "I'm worried about him, Kengo. He's a powerful magi, so if he's not back yet..." Cian winced. "Agh, don't tell him I said that. I'll never hear the end of it."
The handsome, heavy fighter held up a determined fist. "We will find him!" Kengo said, without question. "Spike, put aside the rivalry. We must go find our team mate! If he is injured, he may not be able to move, and we will need to get him to the emergency room as quick as possible."
As much as Spike hated admitting it, Cian was right. Robbie was a bit of a blowhard, but he was also very sweet, and had been very friendly with Spike since Bolivia. The thought of him, or any single one of Spike's teammates, being in danger, scared him.
"Right, Dr. Oyama." Spike nodded. "Let's go."
The mournful cries of coyotes resonated all throughout the dry, dusty canyon. Though it was only sunset, a hazy, violet fog had already creeped in, blanketing the mysterious gulch in an impenetrable mist. Dead tumbleweeds clogged the cracked riverbeds beneath the three young men traversing across the bridge, into uncertain wilderness.
A murder of crows, nesting on an overturned and rotting cart, cawed out to Spike as he passed by the strewn wreckage. He gulped. "Sheesh, this place gives me the creeps."
Kengo, on high alert, nodded. "Yes. There are spirits here."
Cian, trying not to show any fear, looked to the large sumo for answers. "Uh...what kinda' spirits, lad?"
"Hmmm." Kengo closed his eyes. "Tortured souls that have died terrible deaths in this place." He shrugged. "It is probably fine."
Spike turned several shades of pale. "Great."
"Well, I ain't afraid of no ghosts, boyos!" Cian said, mustering his confidence. Just then, a vulture swooped overhead, catching him off guard. "EEP!"
"Hehehehe." Spike enjoyed seeing Cian squirm a little. "You were sayin?"
The winding pathway took them into a grove of dead trees, all watched over by a decaying shack (or 'serial killer hut' as Spike described it to his companions). Among the clearing, a dark and somewhat familiar shape emerged from behind the veil of strange mists.
The three men, all capable fighters in their own respect, caught a chill. "Hey, what's that?" Spike asked.
Kengo peered through the fog. "It looks like a ring. A really...old looking ring."
Sure enough, it resembled a rusted and torn up version of the practice ring from back at the school. The elements had worn it down already, though there was no Earthly way of telling just how old it was. It did not look safe, in any case.
Kengo looked around the area, shivering. "This strange mist. It has twisted everything. Do you see?" He pointed to Spike.
Spike looked at his clothing and his bare flesh. "Holy shit. Everything looks so...creepy. Like one of your horror manga, Kengo."
Cian felt compelled to lower his voice to a whisper. "I heard that two hunky camp counsellors came out here one time and never returned."
Kengo, teeth chattering, chimed in. "I heard that there is a zombie spellbraker out here who likes to wrestle cute guys and then kill them by..." he blushed, whispering in Spike's ear.
Spike turned red. "Oh! Well, that probably wouldn't kill me. Bring him on!"
A high pitched, echoing laugh cut through the trees.
"YUP. We gotta go!" Spike squeeked.
"Wait a minute." Cian pointed towards the ring. "Look, it's...ROBBIE!"
The fog had parted just enough to reveal the shape of a muscular, handsome man bound by rope and gagged by black handkerchiefs, struggling in the middle of the ring. He looked up, eyes bloodshot and desperate.
"Mmmm!!"
Spike turned to the others. "Several fantasies are going through my head right now."
"SPIKE!" Cian snapped, already rushing to dive beneath the ropes. "Let's help him."
Kengo placed a hand on his shoulder. "I will do it. You will look out."
Cian nodded. "Got it."
Robbie's eyes went from terrified to star-struck as he realized his crush was close by. Kengo undid his ties while Cian and Spike huddled close to each other for assurance.
"His arms have been chained here." Kengo sighed, already sweaty, and looked to Spike. "Cub, I need that super strength of yours to help out our fellow spellbreaker."
Going from scared to annoyed, Spike accepted the challenge and entered the ring, stripping off his shirt and tossing it to over to Cian to manage. "Your cub is here, big bear!"
"Er...you didn't need to take your shirt off." Kengo removed the duck tape from Robbie's mouth.
The hunky, tan Canadian gasped. "Damn, that was awesome," he said.
"We'll get you out of here, Icy!" Spike said. He looked down at the chains. "Hmm. Kengo, I'm gonna need you to h--"
WHAP!
The left hook to the jaw sent Spike into the ropes and back down to the mat. He shook his head, his glyph activating and converting the blow into power. "Damn it, big bear, I didn't even explain why I needed you to hit me!"
Kengo blinked. "Oh, sorry!"
"Ugh, you're forgiven." Spike pulled up his jeans and leaned over, tugging the chains fastening his friend's wrists to his back, and pulling them off as if they were made of paper.
Outside the ring, Cian nervously played with his hands, looking up towards the cloudy sky. It had only been an hour into sunset, but suddenly it had turned to night. The clouds overhead dissolved, freeing the light of the full moon. Shadows grew tall across the ring.
"This is...dark magick?"
Robbie's chains fell to the canvas. Spike sighed with relief. "There ya go, Wolfie. Now, who did this to you?"
"Kengo! Spike! Cian, my love." Robbie, apparently unbothered by all that had happened, smiled at his two friends. "'Sup, bros. Oh, to be rescued by such hunks."
Then, a dark look and and even more sinister smiled, crossed his attractive face. "Too bad...you fell for our trap."
Kengo and Spike looked at each other, then at Robbie.
"Hehehe!"
Robbie threw himself back, into his shadow. Instead of hitting the moldy canvas, however, he passed right through it, as if falling through a hole in the middle of the ring. Spike and Kengo retracted in shock.
"Hehehehehe..."
The two brawlers whipped their heads back towards the turnbuckle. Perched on top, clad in a spiked, leather jacket, was a tall gangly figure hidden behind a skull mask. He leered down at them. A swoop of long, purple-tinted mohawk hung in front of their obscured face. He was all rippling abs and shapely legs, ending in tall, thigh-high boots (intricately detailed with nails) with boot-tongues in the shape of headstones. Seams (or tattoos) resembling medical stitches lined his limbs—suggesting he had been sewn together...not unlike a gay porn star version of Frankenstein's monster. Against the haunting full moon, he looked like a demon or vampire lord leering down at their victims.
The dark figure snapped his fingers, nails painted black.
Cian stood in utter bewilderment, as all around the clearing, the shadows abandoned that which cast them. Untethered, they swarmed to the ring, snaking between Cian's feet. The living ribbons crawled up and over the side of the ropes, threading and interlacing themselves, growing taller, solid. The ring was soon walled off and caged in a covering of dark thorns, trapping all opponents within.
Outside the ring, Cian rushed to the thorn cage. He placed his hands on them, wincing at the sting. "Damn it. Who the hell in the GSA roster is capable of conjuring dark thorns?"
"What the hell does that mean?!" Spike asked, panicking.
"Shadow magick, boyo! And powerful" Cian glared at Robbie, who had materialized up from the ground, transported by the shadowy enchantment. "What gives, Icewolf? Who the hell is THAT?"
The creepy (yet, somehow sexy) figure at the top of the turnbuckle was happy to answer. He removed his mask, which dissipated into black shadow, teleported elsewhere. The man that sneered down at Kengo and Spike had a long, angular face. But he was handsome, in a rough, 'punkish' way.
His voice was both nasally and gruff, with a thick, lilting accent. "Name's Deadboy Daemian!" he said, before jumping up into an impressively executed and graceful flip, landing on his boots and shaking the ring so hard that even Kengo had to stabilize himself.
His eyes flashed unearthly green, as did his skull necklace. "But...you can call me the Deadly, Delicious Demon from Down Under!"
"That's a lot of D's" Kengo pointed out.
"Hehehe. There's gonna be a lot more 'D' in store for both of you lads, when I'm done with yous!"
Spike gasped. "Down Under!? You mean...HELL?"
The tall, statuesque Daemian sighed, annoyed. "What? No, Neo Australia." He shook his head, reintegrating his sinister persona. "Looks like you two little flies..." he paused, looking up at Kengo, "—and one big fly, entered my little web!"
Deadboy thrust his hands out to the side, claw-like, summoning long, snaky thorns of darkness that wrapped around his knotted arms.
"And now...IT IS TIME FOR THE SPIDER TO FEAST! I challenge you losers to a handicapped, CAGED DEATH MATCH! No pins! Last hunk standing!"
From ringside, Icewolf dinged a rather ominous, discordant bell. "Showtime, bros!"
Deadboy struck fast, lashing Kengo across the face before the sumo could even react.
"GAH!"
"Kengo!" Spike called out, watching his roommate and friend clutch his eyes in pain.
Deadboy was blindingly quick, combining the speed of a runner and the reflexes and movement of a gymnast. He flipped forward, jumping up and grabbing onto the shadow-chain cage fence around the ring. He crawled up the side like a rabid simian, a manic grin plastered to his pale face all the while.
"He can do that without getting hurt!?" Cian stammered.
"Yeah, nah!" Deadboy spat back. "Oh it hurts alright. But I LOVE PAIN! Receiving it, and DISHING IT OUT!" He looked down at Kengo, still clutching his damaged eyes. "That sun bear is no match for a DROP BEAR!"
With that, Deadboy jumped off his perch and aimed his boots straight for Kengo's head.
CRACK.
Without soma to protect him, the blow knocked Kengo right out. The strong sumo's eyes rolled in the back of his head before he tumbled over like a tree, slamming into the mat.
"KENGO!" Spike shouted. His heart jumped inside his chest.
Deadboy stood, triumphant, planting his boot on Kengo's belly. "HAHAHAH! Nighty night, teddbyear!" He grinned at Spike. "Get it, because teddy-bears is what yous take to bed!"
Spike grit his teeth, "Thank you for the explanation. Now, take your dirty boot off my friend." Spike glared, surprised at how dominant he sounded. "That's his favorite hoodie you're mucking up, pal!"
"Aw, is it?" Daemian said, hocking a wad of spit onto Kengo's shirt. The gorgeous ghoul pointed his finger at Spike. "You're next, kid."
"I'm not a kid!" Spike growled. He undid his jeans, dropping his pants to the canvas and kicking them into the corner. "I'm a man. Can't you tell?" Spike, cocky and cute, flexed for his adversary.
Daemian blinked. "Um...you didn't need to take those off, mate. I was fine fighting you in your jeans."
Spike looked down at his jack-o-lantern printed briefs. "Oh, I guess not. Erm...but they glow in the dark."
"Oooh! They're really cute," Deadboy said, sincerely, before he turned and tried to roundhouse kick Spike in the face. "BET THEY'LL LOOK CUTER WITH YOUR BLOOD STAINS ALL OVER THEM! HAHAHAAHEHEHEHE!"
Spike reacted, missing Daemian's boot by inches. He went for a single leg takedown, but Daemian was faster, flipping back as he sent out another dark thorn to whip Spike across his muscular, bare chest.
"GAH!"
"Just a welt!" Damien said, disappointed. His eyes went wild, his tongue hanging maniacally out of his mouth. "AWWW COME ON, JUST LET ME BLEED YOU A LITTLE, SPIKEY! I PROMISE TO LET YOU GO! MAYBE. HAHAHAHA!"
This was bad. Very bad. Spike threw himself backwards, trying to dodge a deathly combo of Deadboy's dark thorns and his own kicks and punches. The so-called 'Demon from Down Under' was the fastest opponent he'd faced thus far.
"Cian," Spike called out, "he's insane! And worse. HE'S HOT!"
Cian looked over at Robbie, contently sipping on a beer as if he was watching a match at home. "Robbie, EXPLAIN!"
"Eep!" Icewolf jumped, dribbling golden brew all over himself. "C-cian! Baby, I can totally explain.."
Back in the ring, Spike found himself corneredd. His eyes went to Kengo, still flat on his back. Come on, big guy. Get up.
"They call it Deadman's Gulch," Daemian hissed, drawing closer. "But that's not the REAL name. It's DEADBOY'S GULCH! This is my wasteland, where I once raised my army of the dead against the GSA!"
Robbie leaned in to whisper to Cian. "It...really wasn't an army of people. More like the skeletons of all the dead animals out here."
"HEY, Robbie," Deadboy huffed, "DON'T RUIN THE STORY!"
Spike seized the moment of distraction and tackled Daemian, taking him down to the mat. "I'm a masochist too!" Spike said, wrapping his hands around Daemian's tentacle-like dark thorns. The pain was immense, like having blades sawing into his palms. Still, Spike persisted, squeezing down and ripping the solid shadows apart.
Like a serpent attacked, Daemian hissed and spat at Spike. He tugged his legs back from under Spike and kicked him in the torso, knocking him back into the caged fencing.
The thorns seared pain into Spike's back. He winced. "Damn it, I forgot you Aussies have strong legs."
"Ha!" Deadboy jumped up and flipped back. "I got my kicks in Aussie styled pro wrestling, mate. All acrobatics and flair! That's my brand of spellbreaking."
"It's very cool," Spike said, catching his breath. "EXCEPT WHEN YOU'RE FORCING SOMEONE TO DO IT!"
Daemian squealed with sadistic delight. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you my other specialty." He held up his hand, materializing a shadowy (and sharp) dagger. The horror-themed spellbreaker proceeded to hold up to his mouth and run his tongue alongside the edge, almost erotically.
A black substance, perhaps blood, dripped from his gaping mouth as he glared manically at his prey.
Spike gulped. "This is...too much."
Outside the caged ring, another brawl was brewing. Cian knocked Icewolf's beer from his hands and grabbed him by the scruff of his hockey jersey, pulling him in close.
"Robbie," Cian snarled. "You maple-syrup-guzzling dick! I oughta' kick your ass!"
Instead of being intimidate or biting back, Robbie's eyes may as well have assumed the shape of hearts. "My hunk; I would be honored!"
"Ugh, then never mind. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS ABOUT!?"
Robbie gently removed Cian's hand from his jersey, giving it a quick kiss on the way off. "Bro, it's our brilliant trap!" he declared victoriously, flexing his biceps for his crush to see. "Deadboy is gonna turn Spike and Kengo into his servants for our awesome new army."
Cian groaned. "What? That's the DUMBEST thing I've ever heard."
"Yeah, isn't it great! And then we can be together, Cian! Deadboy said I could keep you normal once we take over. We will spend our days locked in grappling combat, and our nights locked in each othe'sr--"
"SHUT UP!" Cian snapped. "Are you with Firebird or no?"
"What? EW, bro. Never! Deadboy and I are trying to FIGHT Firebird. But the rest of the GSA boys are too dumb and weak to understand our genius plan, bro. You see, Deadboy was our champion til' that baby-faced prettboy, White Tiger, came in and stole his glory. Now that Colt is too busy with the world tour, Deadboy wants to claim what's his, and I..." Icewolf stepped foreward, running a hand through his short hair. "I want to claim you."
SMACK.
Robbie hit the dirt. Cian rubbed the knuckles of his left hand and glared down. "You're an idiot, Robbie."
Robbie tenderly touched the side of his face where Cian had struck. To him, it felt like a kiss. "You...you're just playin' rough, right, bro? I LOVE that kind of flirting." Robbie manoeuvred his thick legs and swept Cian right beneath his feet, putting him on his back. "I can play rough too! Let's wrestle, my stallion!"
"WHAT THE HELL!?"
Robbie pounced, his hands meeting Cian's in a lopsided test of strength from mount position. "Aw, yeah! Let's take our clothes off and wrestle...the old fashioned way."
"R-R-ROBBIE!?" Cian blushed. "DOWN, BOY!"
Spike, cornered, had nowhere to go. He tensed up against the corner post, trying to find a moment to get out of this. I need a hope spot, like right now...
"What's wrong, little boy?" Daemian cooed. "All I want to do is CUT OPEN that pretty face of yours!"
"I'm not in blood play, D! Also you're creepy and smell like old vegemite."
Deadboy glared. "GRRRR. You...little C***!" The handsome, lanky fiend jerked his hand upwards, causing his own shadow to ripple and weave itself into a long braid.
No, not a braid, Spike realized. A chain. Spike tried to move his head, but the cold chain wrapped around his neck, pulling him forward and choking him in the process. Unlike the dark thorns, however it didn't sting.
Worse (or better...Spike hadn't decided yet...) it constricted. He winced, trying to yank the binding from his beck. It was on tight. He looked up following the chain towards his opponent's neck.
"What!?"
"Yesss," Daemian hissed, biting his lip. He looked down at his own collar of darkness. He and Spike were connected by the length. "That's how magick works, right? Laws of return. Which is why I always dog-collar myself to my opponents. Keeps the magick strong and in check."
He yanked the chain forward, abruplty, forcing Spike onto his knees. Daemian tugged again, reeling him in like a fish.
"Hehehe. Bet you're wondering what I'm gonna do to ya when you get real close. You're just where I want you, Spikey. On your knees, kneeling before your future champion."
Spike looked up, into the eyes of the devil. As Spike always expected, The Adversary of the Goddess was handsome. In a sinister way.
Spike challenged him with his stare. "You'll...never beat White Tiger."
The sound of the name appeared to strike a nerve. Deadboy blinked. "Oh, I will. But first, I want to make a statement. I want to shatter the GSA's newest trophy boy. Then? Make him mine."
"I'll never be yours..." Spike said, firmly. Then again, under different circumstances, a chain match sounded like the perfect way to end a long week...
"Why fight it?" Daemian asked, extending his long finger and pushing Spike's chin up. He forced him to meet his dark stare. His tone changed. It was cold. True. Almost seductive. Spike gulped.
"I see it in your eyes, Spike. That hunger to be wanted. To be...possessed?" One hand still tightly controlling Spike's chain, Daemian used his free hand to play with Spike's hair. "I can see all your fears, mate. Laid bare. And I can make all your nightmares come true. Behold..."
Suddenly, Daemian's eyes turned solid black. He opened his mouth. Spike, wanting to look away, was compelled to stare into the abyss. Something was moving inside there.
A swarm burst free from Daemian's throat. A flutter of gossamer wings. Moths.
Spike's worst, irrational fear!
"BALGH! NooOOOO!" The small, brown insects fluttered around Spike's eyes, tormenting him.
Then, the moths vanished, just as quickly as they had appeared. Daemian stared down in confusion. "Wait...you're afraid of moths? Really? Not even...spiders or snakes? MOTHS?"
Spike shrugged his shoulders back. He blushed. "Well...they're fuzzy and I don't like the way they move."
"Huh." Daemian meditated on that for a moment, before his evil grin returned. He conjured a dark blade in the air. "Whatever. I'm gonna make you bleed now, you little prick! Then, I'm gonna turn you into my weapon."
Spike tried to summon his strength to pull back the chain, but it was made of magick and his glyph was ineffective on it. He tried reason, instead. "I don't have any beef with you...Daemian. Please, don't do this..."
Ignoring his plea, the dark magi held the shadow knife inches away from Spike's forehead. "Come, sweet Spike. Let my darkness take you. Be mine. Be my victim."
Suddenly, Spike smiled.
From behind Deadboy, came a familiar voice. "I do not like your foul language."
"Huh--"
Kengo wrapped his waist around Deadboy and hoisted him as easily as picking up a pillow, tossing him clear over his shoulder and onto the mat.
"Kengo!" Spike said.
"I got this one, roomie!" Kengo shot back, using the ropes for momentum (and nearly tipping over the ring in the process). "This zombie is about to learn the meaning of SUMO STRENGTH!"
Daemian sprung back up on his feet, but not before nearly 300 pounds of Japanese beef slammed into him, knocking him back into the ropes. Kengo grabbed him on the ricochet, lifting him and performing a clean uranage, slamming Deadboy into the mats.
BAM!!!
Spike had already moved into position, hopping up onto Kengo's shoulders, using him as a platform. "You wanted a handicap match, Deadbeat ? You'll get one. Time to send you back to the GRAVE!"
Channelling his mentor, Iggy, Spike jumped up into a shooting star press, ready to knock the lights out of Deadboy and end this nightmare for good. But Deadboy recovered, or rather, sunk back into his shadow. Spike, fortunately, landed on his feet. He was no worse for wear.
"Grrr." Spike whipped his head around, scanning the ring. "Come out, cheater!"
"Hehehehe!"
"Kengo, behind you!"
The big man reacted in the nick of time, jumping back from Daemian emerging from his own shadow. Still, Daemian didn't resume his attack. Not yet...
"You bruisers are tougher than I thought!" he cackled. "Enough of this handicap shit though. Let's turn this into a REAL tag team death match. Ohhhh Braxy..."
Deadboy held out his hand. Kengo and Spike's eyes followed, confused.
A different sort of portal opened up in mid-air. Unlike Daemian's shadow 'doorways', this one crackled with red electricity and violet smoke. The smell of sulphur filled the ring, making Spike and Kengo retch.
Then, a furry, black claw emerged from the window. Damian tagged it, and was then pulled into the unseen realm, leaving Spike and Kengo to themselves.
For a matter of seconds anyway.
The portal re-opened, larger this time. And out stepped what human eyes could only describe as a monster. The demon was at least eight feet tall, covered partially by black fur and supple skin. Its body rippled with muscles, and its face was the approximation of a somewhat anthropomorphic canid. Bearing teeth the size and shape of daggers, the beast's tongue—several feet long—unfurled from out of its mouth, licking its chops.
The demon growled. Low. Hollow. Spike and Kengo's blood turned to ice.
"W-WH-WHAT IS THAT THING!?" Spike said, stepping back from the looming beast.
Daemian re-appeared on top of the corner post. "No way to talk to my best mate, c***!" He giggled. "Meet Brax 'The Ripper'. My tag partner. We're the Infernals!
Kengo resumed his fighter's stance, summoning courage and resolve. "Spike, that is a demon!"
"OH, THAT CLEARS IT UP!" As soon as the initial shock wore off, however, Spike scanned the hulking monstrosity up and down. It was mostly human in shape, save for the canid head, and the sharp teeth, and the long tongue, and...well, a lot of distinct variances in anatomy. But, Spike couldn't deny, in a certain light, the entity was...kind of hot. Now that the sulphur smell had subsided, anyway, Spike caught whiff of the demon's aroma, which was unexpectedly...minty.
Spike toyed with his hair playfully. "Wow, I didn't realize demons had such...tight tits. How tall are you, anyway, big guy?"
The demon huffed out cold misty air, cocking its head to the side in confusion. "GrRrrrr...about...eight-feet...with neck horns?"
"With the horns," Spike giggled, coquettishly. "Oh, yeah?"
"Don't flirt with the opponent, Brax!" Daemian snarled through his teeth. "And don't bloody use the imperial system of measurement; have I not taught you better?"
Kengo blushed. "Do not flirt with the demon, Spike!" Kengo held his hand out to Spike, meeting the demon's infernal eyes directly. "Let me handle this, roomie," the sumo said, taking on an blue glow. Phantasmal flames sprouted from his back as glyph activated.
"Bear King, I summon you!"
From the top of his perch, Damian raised an eyebrow. "No shitting way. A spirit summoner? Hmmm...now this is getting interesting."
Spike watched as Kengo removed his hoodie and shirt, tossing it aside and revealing his beautiful, ornate back tattoo. The sun bear inked into Kengo's flesh came to life, growing larger and larger, before emerging from his back as a separate entity.
Spike gulped, taking a step back. He had been on the receiving end of Minoru's claws before.
"Finally," Minoru, Kengo's spirit guardian, growled hungrily. "A piece of the action!" The bear king stared down his opponent, who wore similar gear as his tag partner (but obviously tailored to a demonic build).
Minoru roared. "Wooooah! Hello, beefcake."
Across from him, Brax, the giant demon, demured. "Oh....stop...you do not really mean this?"
Once again, Kengo and Spike looked to each other, in shock.
"Braxy, stop bloody flirting and KICK HIS ASS!"
The demon and bear growled at the same time, meeting in the middle of the ring for a test of strength. The beasts struggled against each other, kicking up waves of intense, spiritual energy, a wind that nearly threw Spike onto his back.
Meanwhile, Cian and Icewolf were locked in their own struggle for dominance. Icewolf, spurred on by lust and testosterone, yanked Cian's head into a tight headlock.
"I just wanna get coffee with youuuuu," Robbie snarled. "Why is that so harrrrrrd! Let me WINNNNN, BRO!"
Cian resisted. "You put my friends in danger. I'm gonna...GAHHH!!!"
Robbie let go, afraid he'd actually hurt his crush. "Wait...what's happening?"
Cian's eyes glowed red as his 'blood frenzy' activated. He grabbed Robbie's head and threw into the ground. Cian wrapped his massive legs around Robbie's neck, pulling him into a head scissor.
"TELL DEADBOY TO LET THEM GO!"
Robbie gasped and chocked. "This....is....everything I've ever wanted..."
As he was standing back and away from the clash of summoned beasts, he picked up on the tussle outside the cage. "Cian!"
Cian snarled back. "I WILL DESTROY ICEWOLF AND DAEMIAN MYSELF!"
Spike bit his lip. "I don't doubt that, buddy." He looked over his shoulder. Daemian was on the top rope, indulging in the violent spectacle. Yet, the fight between Brax and Minoru was a stalemate, and Kengo didn't dare intervene. Without soma to protect them all, this was literally turning into a battle for the death.
"Daemian," Spike shouted. "I don't know what kinda' beef you have with the GSA, but we can talk it out. Cian is gonna snap Robbie's neck. I'm serious. I've seen him 'Blood Frenzy' before."
Glaring at Spike for interrupting his pleasure, Daemian looked outside the caged ring, sensing Cian's burst of power. "That's...the power of a god."
Robbie's face was turning blue. His eyes rolled up at Spike. "Bro....don't let a bro die."
Daemian grunted, jumping off his perch. He sighed. "I mean, I could just raise you back from the dead if that happens. I am a necromancer after a--"
"DAEMIAN!" Spike and Kengo snapped in unison.
"Alright, alright, keep your dacks on!" Daemian shrugged. He snapped his fingers, and the thorny cage dematerialized into black smoke. "Brax, we're done here. Consider this match a draw."
The red-eyed demon pushed back, away from Minoru.
The bear turned to his master. "Ugh, really? I was just gettin' started."
"You can play some other time," Kengo said. His spirit dissolved into particles of blue light, a spiritual 'snow' that swirled and reintegrated itself into Kengo's back tattoo.
Likewise, Cian regained his senses, letting Robbie go. Gasping for breath, but looking like he'd just one the lottery, Robbie crawled away from the danger.
The hunky Canadian got onto his feet. "I...need a drink. And to change my pants."
Cian was actually able to turn off his blood frenzy, Spike thought, surprised and relieved at once. He slunk his shoulders, exhausted and shot with adrenaline. "I can't believe you made me fight in my pumpkin undies..."
"Nobody made you do that," Deadboy shot back. He crossed his arms, as his demon buddy slung a friendly claw around his shoulder. "This ain't over, Spikey. Not by a long shot. BUT...as a token of my generosity and infinite mercy..."
Brax, the demon reached into his (rather roomie) briefs and pulled out a handful of small, brightly colored objects. He reached over to Spike.
"Goddess!" Spike squeeked, pulling back. Warily, he looked down into the monster's open claw. "Wait, these are...."
"It...is...for you." Brax softly and amicably, growled.
Spike looked down at the colorful bars of chocolate with the muscular mascots. "These are...Muscle Munchies! My favorite. I collect all the beastmen trading cards." Suspicious, he gave Daemian and his monster tag partner a hard look. "Why?"
"Hahaha!" Daemian grinned, sincerely, not wickedly. Now that he wasn't trying to actively kill Spike, it was actually a quite beautiful smile. "Heard you liked Halloween! Wouldn't be a few tricks without a few treats, mate! Guess I'll have to make you bleed some other time."
"They...aren't poisoned, right?" Spike asked.
"Nah, not my style."
Spike relaxed. He could tell Kengo and Cian (and Robbie, cradling his own sore neck) were still a bit shaken thought. "Hey, rampant terror and trauma aside, that was kinda' fun! I do like spooky shit."
Daemian let go of his tag partner and leaned in, turning on a dark charm. "Oh? How's about spooky boys, hey?"
Spike blushed. Now that he wasn't worried about being sliced and cursed, he had to admit...Deadboy was easy on the eyes. In a gothic, punk kind of way... "I...do like a badboy."
All the other humans in and around the ring groaned.
"Spike," Kengo started. "Do not flirt with the evil boy!"
"He's not evil," Spike said, "just Australian."
"Awww, I'm not that wicked," Daemian said, mockingly. One could practically see the devil horns sprouting on his head. "I was just drawn that way. Besides, mates, I'd never put my boyfriend in danger."
Spike nodded, cheerily. "Yeah, guys, see, he'd never--WHAAAAAA?"
Before Spike could react, he found himself swept up in Deadboy's arms. Kengo moved to intervene, but backed down from Brax's demonic stare.
"Deadboy and Sailorboy. Got a good ring to it, yeah?" Daemian flipped his hair swoop back, letting Spike get a better look at his face. His eyes were dark and intense, but in an inviting way. Like a strong, intoxicating drink. He pulled Spike closer. He smelled like cigarettes, cheap cologne, and danger.
"You can call me, Lachlan," Deadboy said, friendly, in an almost 'normal' voice. "Or 'Lachie', for short. And...I've decided. You're my boyfriend, now, Spike."
Then, that wicked grin returned. "And there ain't nothin' you can do about it."
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