When Western China broke away with the Eastern territories, the city state of Hong Kong was still administered by the Alban Empire, save for one military outpost, protected under treaty. During the Great War, this outpost--a walled fortress--was taken by the forces of Imperial Japan and then soon abandoned until the liberation of Hong Kong. Refugees poured into the unused settlement by the thousands, turning the disused fortress into a ramshackle slum. By then, the Alban and Western Chinese governments wanted nothing to do with the urban eyesore, and so left its citizens to their own devices.
The Kowloon Walled City grew into a concrete labyrinth of eternal night, with buildings and streets so packed together that daylight could not reach the lower surface. Some saw it as nothing more than fourteen stories of unregulated, cramped tenements stacked together amid a monstrous spider-web of wiring and dripping pipes. Some saw it as a haven for the oppressed and the criminal alike, where authorities feared to tread among shadows. Drug dealers, Triads, and the sinister Cult of the Red Jade, all took to the urban hive--and better yet, were wise enough to leave the citizens out of their affairs, winning trust and protection from the dwellers of darkness. Here, good co-existed with evil; light with dark. Many innocents went about their business, operating dentist offices, factories, schools, and restaurants.
Even so, a shadowy chi flowed through the Kowloon Walled City, attracting dark magi to its ranks. Those who practiced the art of 'the black dao' found employment in the criminal enterprises and religious cults, usually as demon summoners and spirit tamers, conjuring wicked entities for a price. Underground black markets sold antiquities, dark enchantments, artefacts, fetishes, and totems. In fact, it was through the back alley channels that the Chalice of Wisdom drifted, after vanishing under 'inauspicious circumstances' during the looting of the Alban garrison at the terminus of the war.
Everyone in Kowloon City knew money was its own kind of magick, trumping both light and shadow. The Hong Kong and Western Chinese agents of Aradia, through their vast intelligence networks and operatives, knew this rule. Unnamed for reasons of security, these brave men and women paid a handsome price for information...brokered by a certain boisterous, bodybuilding entrepreneur with a large heart, a large yacht, and even larger vaults.
Here, under the flickering, slanted halogen beam, a portal of violet energy opened across graffiti scrawl....
Deadboy stepped out of the shadows, taking in the rank air of the city of eternal darkness. Behind him, White Tiger followed, immediately following to his knees and throwing up everywhere.
Some hero.
Deadboy's beautiful, cunning eyes adjusted to the shadows. "Oh man, get a whiff of that negative energy. Like coffee in the morning, yeah?" He turned around to the partner he'd reluctantly joined. "Get it together, champ. What, can't take a bit of dark magick?"
"It...does not exactly agree with me," Joseph said, rising to his feet. He wiped his mouth.
Deadboy rolled his eyes. Even puling his bloody guts out, he looks like a damn angel. "These lanes and alleys are too narrow for Brax, so we're gonna have to rely on my power and yours."
"It will be enough," Joseph said, eyeing rats and roaches skittering in and out of stacked garbage bags. "We're looking for a shop on the lower level with a sign of a golden rooster. I'm told we'll need to keep a sharp eye out for it. It's designed to look unassuming, and protected by both perception enchantments and...darker entities."
Deadboy shrugged. "Demons, yeah."
"Not just demons, I'm afraid. Asia is rich in its cultures...its gods, goddesses, and good spirits...as well as its malevolent entities."
"Lucky we're a few months shy of the seventh month," Daemian lowered his voice, as an old woman carrying a bag of rice slid past them, giving them no attention. He waited til she was out of earshot, remembering that this was still, mostly, a residential area. "You definitely know your shit, Haw. The demons of Gehenna are split into tribes and are mostly unified. But Gehenna's flipside don't reach this part of Asia. Here? We're dealing with the devil-knows-what. Hungry ghosts. Hell mercenaries. And if we got necromancers in the woodworks, jianshi, which are sort of like a--"
"I know what a jianshi is," Joseph said, shooting Deadboy a dark look.
"--Chinese vampire zombies that jump at ya like bloody 'roos." Deadboy sighed. "Yeah? I see that look you're giving. Got a wedgie that needs picking?"
"...Don't Asiasplain things to me, Aussie."
"Whatever, mate. Just trying to help. Stay behind me and we'll look for this shop."
Joseph gently shouldered his way past Deadboy. "No, that's okay. I can lead. You watch my six."
"You can't ever let me do things my way, can you?" He mumbled. "'Watch my six', he says. What do you think this is..."
"Lachlan, this is not the time for bickering."
"You don't have the right to call me by my given name, Tiger. And don't you tell me off for defending myself. You want this job done? You're gonna need to trust me."
"Then you're going to need to prove yourself worthy of trust."
Daemian and Joseph stewed in silence, and meandered through the cramped, dripping alleyways of the dark city, passing discarded, rusting tubs, broken television sets, and stores glimmering with holiday lights and golden idols.
It was Daemian who noticed the wavering in the corner of his eyes; shadows stirring where the light couldn't reach. "They already know we're here."
Joseph cocked his head to the side. "Should we act?"
"No. Pretend you don't notice. It'll give us the advantage."
White Tiger said nothing.
They almost missed the chipped and faded sign swinging off its hinges in front of the cracked window. The store looked abandoned. Nobody walking past them even acknowledged it.
Daemian licked his lips. "Now, there's the cock I'm looking for."
"Daemian. Some decorum, please? Even here?"
"Yeah, yeah." Daemian sighed and allowed his shadow, flat against the newspaper-soaked concrete, to slither beneath the crack in the door. He closed his eyes. "Dark. Nobody's home. Really weird shit on the walls too--everything from Kalashnikovs to diamond watches to things in jars I don't even recognize. Stinking with enchantment and treasure. Yep. This has gotta' be the joint."
Joseph kept his eye on the road. The few passers-by, swaying drunks and painted call girls, kept to the order of the city and gave them nothing but the briefest of glances.
Then, Joseph caught a flash of red--the hem of a robe vanishing behind a mesh of haphazard electrical wiring. "I think someone has eyes on this shop."
"Figures," Daemian sniffed. He made a face. On the other side of the door, his shadow undid the latch. It swung open, inviting them into the dusty dark. "Welp. Let's check it out. We can nab the Chalice and hop into a shadow corridor as soon as it's in our hot little hands." He sneered at his partner. "That is, if his royal highness's stomach isn't so sensitive."
Blanked faced, Joseph's responded by cuffing Deadboy in the arm before walking on inside.
"Ouch! That really hurt!"
"Good. This could be a trap, you know."
"A trap? What's the point. Firebird's probably looking for this Chalice, same as us. We gotta beat them to the punch, kitty."
"Don't call me kitty. Remember, they tried to kill me back in Vegas."
"Must be nice having so much attention on you. Nobody's tried to kill me before! Lucky bastard..."
The spellbreakers took to either side of the room, eying shelves of strange statuary, jewels, and magickal armaments. Daemian scanned the room for traps or curses. Much to his surprise, he found none. That there was so little security here...was somewhat concerning.
Something about this was off.
With a finger to his lips, Joseph pointed to the back, far wall, comprised of a great bookcase filled with herbalist tomes and curse lifting guides. He reached out with his fingers and tugged on invisible threads.
"There's a wind current passing through here," Joseph said, zeroing in on the book case. He closed his eyes and breathed. "Hold on. I can do this without making too much noise. Hopefully."
Annoyed, Daemian crossed his arms, watching Joseph will his wind magick into lifting the case delicately off the ground (minus the updraft of dust). Slowly, he moved it to the side and landed it gently with a cushioning of air, making only the slightest of thuds. Not even the pages fluttered, nor did the heavy shelf creak. Daemian pretended not to be impressed.
Behind the case, concrete steps lowered down into a secret room, flanked with calendars of scantily dressed women and littered with beer bottles. Joseph reeled back, gripping his nose.
"It stinks," he said, wincing.
Unbothered, Daemian sniffed the air. "Demon piss. Some like to mark their territory. Whoever runs this outfit is employing some heavies from the underworld, and I do not mean in the criminal sense, but the lit-"
"I sort of got that," Joseph mumbled. He looked around. "No sign of anything. Except for..."
He pointed to the glass countertop at the back of the room. It was full of expensive jewellery and strange, glowing stones not sp easily identified. Sitting on top of the crystal surface, not even behind a locked case, was an indigo colored drinking vessel. It was shaped like a pitcher, etched with fine lines, and held up by three stems, like a tripod. It reminded Joseph of ancient, dynastic wine vessels he had seen in the museums growing up. The object radiated power. Right away, Joseph and Daemian knew it could be nothing other than the Chalice of Wisdom.
The two polarized spellbreakers looked at each other. "What?" Daemian snorted. "Not gonna do anything stupid, if you're thinking it."
"I wasn't, actually, D. I'm more so thinking...this feels far too easy."
Daemian reluctantly concurred. "I hate it when you're right. Let me feel it out with me shadow," he said. He leaned forward slightly, chest rising and falling as he held his arm outward and guided his silhouette over towards the counter top.
At once, the room burst into light. Strange glyphs, concealed in the floors and walls, burst into jests of green light. A wall of dark, gnarled thorns rose from the doorway behind them, blocking their exit, as the magickal script coalesced into distinct pools of violent illumination.
Back to back, Daemian and Joseph took defensive posturing.
"Bloody knew it," Deadboy grunted.
Joseph rolled his eyes. "Did you though?"
"Ugh, no, but I'm not surprised." He screwed up his face. "It's fuckin' Aesterian ink. Invisible to the eye and to magical detection. Rare stuff. Only seen it used once before, and not like this. My shadow must have set it off."
"So, someone's spared no expense in trying to kills us." Joseph sneered, eyes focusing on the dark shape rising up from one of the pools. "I'm almost honored."
The ghouls poured forth from the tears between worlds--though, in truth, they had been laying in wait. They were distorted visions, nightmares. Deadboy, of course, beheld them as beautiful creatures of the forbidden. One of the largest carryied a meat cleaver, and was mostly human in shape, with long, matted hair and a body wrought with muscle. From the neck up, he had the bleeding head of an ox or bull, and eyes that burned red. Next to him, his companion, was a six breasted entity with the eyes and mandibles of a beetle, and great leathery wings.
There were other horrors. A blindfolded, androgynous wraith with four long arms and a great sword in each hand, and a spidery creature with bladed, long legs, and the giant and swollen, bulbous head of a drowned child. Lesser, but no less deadly, were the 'drone' ghouls--hungry ghosts with sewn up mouths, distended stomachs, and milky eyes. Deadboy was unsure what harm, exactly, they could do to him and Joseph, but he didn't wish to find out.
The ghouls waited for their employer's command, and the puppet master made themselves known in a flash of green, sulphurous smoke. Joseph and Deadboy were outgunned, so they had no choice but to indulge them.
The Red Jade cultist was a gray-haired but otherwise 'normal' looking man, save for his cruel, cold smile. He opened his mouth to speak.
But no words came out.
Suddenly, he fell forward onto the floor, stone cold and dead.
The spellbreaker behind him, clad all in black, with a balaclava and body suit, massaged their bare hand, just as they slipped their leather glove back on. "Seems your demonic contract has changed hand, mate." He wiggled his fingers in Deadboy's direction.
Around him, the demons chittered and laughed.
"That wasn't even that funny," Deadboy grumbled. He nodded to Joseph. "That's how you can tell these c***s are under a human's thrall. Nobody would laugh at a joke that lame. Would they...Redback?"
Redback, the spellbreaker in the mask, clicked his tongue. "Sight for sore eyes, you. Deadboy Daemian. You could have been Firebird's best champion, had you joined us."
"You left sXs to join those losers?" Daemian spat. Around him, the demons growled and drooled venom onto the firty floor.
"sXs is a sideshow, full of freaks."
"Yeah, freaks who know how to have fun!"
"Deadboy, you disappoint me. You could have killed it in Firebird, you bloody legend. Maybe even better than that Rage c***t."
"What is it with you Aussies and your preoccupation with that word?" Joseph balked. "Also, this man just killed a guy."
Deadboy shrugged. Meanwhile, Redback leered at the GSA's champion. "White Tiger. You escaped by toxic touch back in Vegas. But now your luck's run out."
"Am I that much of a threat to you?" Joseph said, confidently. "If you come to take the Tiger's life, then you better get it right the first time. Now, you've become the hunted."
"That so?" Redback laughed. "Mr. Yun here did his duty just fine. A fine demonic trap indeed. And the Chalice? Perfect bait. You two prettyboys are outgunned. And now, I get the privilege of watching two champions of the GSA die."
He clicked his fingers. The demons charged forward.
White Tiger and Deadboy Daemian were ready.
"I've got the ugly one," Joseph said, conjuring a whirlwind.
"Which is the ugly one?" Chains of cold shadow shot out from Deadboy's wrists. "They're all kinda sexy to me."
The chains wrapped around the four-armed swordswoman's wrists, binding her to the spot. She shrieked, splitting Deadboy's ears. He fell backwards.
Joseph vaulted over the spider baby, tangling it in a whirlwind and dodging its bladed feet. "Daemian!"
"I mean, just look at those muscles," Deadboy said from his landing spot. He looked up at the bull man's abs and drooled. "Hey badboy. Do you bite? Because I definitely do."
A chain of darkness pulled the bull man's right leg forward. Deadboy dodged the cleaver (which imbedded itself into the floorboards) and sunk his teeth into his aggressor's meaty thigh. The bull man roared.
Joseph uppercut the insect woman with a fist augmented by the pressure of a geyser, splashing her in the face. He followed it up with a wind bullet, sending her into the glass, shattering it. Seizing the moment, Tiger improvised and directed the shards of glass with his wind, sending them towards redback and the demons behind him.
"Damn it," the venomous spellbreaker grunted, cartwheeling out of the way. He landed on the ground and looked down at his bleeding wound, extracting a small chunk of glass from his forearm. "Grrr."
"Oh, bloody show off!" Deadboy said, rolling his eyes. He jumped onto the bull man's head and used the moment to dropkick the four-armed demon in the gut. "See if I help you, now."
Tiger flipped back and landed in front of his ex rival and lover. He glared. "I just don't get your attitude, man."
"Well, join the club, mate."
"No, really. You're one of the greatest spellbreakers the GSA has ever seen. Why do you have such a chip on your shoulder?" Interrupted, briefly, by a hungry ghoul, Joseph punched it in the face and sent it flying into its cohorts. "Is it because I beat you? Well, tough luck. You fought well and you fought hard. But you lost. And when that happens, badasses like you are supposed to brush their shoulders off and get back into the fight. Not...sulk for a whole year and a half, plotting petty revenge! Hey, I'm having a moment here, dude." Tiger picked up the next ghoul, tortured racked it, and tossed it directly at the charging Redback, knocking him flat on his ass.
"It's not that simple, Tiger."
Joseph, slick with sweat and demon gore, sighed. "Fine. I know. I shouldn't have taken your gear. I know; it's my thing. But..."
"Then why did you?" Deadboy snapped. He conjured up more chains of darkness from the ground.
Tiger wondered if he intended to use them on him now, not the demons. "I guess..." Joseph trailed off. Of course, Daemian would take this opportunity to have a heart-to-heart. "I thought you were going to move on to another fed. You always said how you were too good for the GSA anyway. I believed it. Because you are good. But...I was kind of even hoping you might defend the title so you'd stick around a bit."
Tiger sighed. "I just wanted...a piece of you. To hold onto. And I guess...to know I was able to beat a good one. To feel like the hero everyone expects and wants me to be. It felt right."
"Typical golden boy bullshit," Deadboy spat. His chain impaled the bull man, lifting him up into the air and flinging him into the spider baby. "You're the bloke who could trip, fall in shit, and come up smelling like roses. Everyone's favorite White Tiger, who jet-sets all over the world, kicks everyone's ass, and gets worshipped like a fuckin' god. Big damn hero who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter."
Daemian heaved, spitting on the floor. If not for the glow in his eyes, Joseph might have seen the sublet welling up of tears. "Do you know what it was like to grow up with nothing? To get kicked and spit on and fucked over by just about everyone I was supposed to trust? You know why I grew up to be the villain?"
Tiger, annoyed, but listening, conjured a wall of water and sent it colliding into the insect creature and her ghouls. "Because you were afraid, right? And...you wanted people to know that fear. You're the nightmare prince. You didn't let fear conquer you; you usurped it and became its new master. But did that solve anything?"
Daemian stared. Even the death groan from the bleeding out bull creature at his feet couldn't tear him away from looking at Tiger. "I..." He shook his head. "Well, fuck you for taking the words out of my mouth for the hundredth time."
"I mean, it's kind of obvious, Daemian."
"Becoming the champion of the GSA was the best year of my life, Joe!"
"It's Joseph."
"People looked up to me, instead of just being afraid. Kids wanted to do my moves and poses and be little shits. Little shits who had similar upbringings to me! I could be someone for the, you know!" He laughed. "When you took away my gear and my title, you took what little remained of my dignity too. Of course I'd want revenge. And you know the worst part?"
Joseph looked up from the ghoul he was choking out with his giant biceps. "Well?"
"It turned me the hell on. To be put in my place. Because...and this is going to sound so fucked up...but I always felt like I could trust you. With limits and shit. You're...so shiny. I don't have a word for it. Just...shiny."
Joseph, shocked, broke the ghouls neck and dropped its lifeless mass to the floor. "I... honestly think you're so cool. Maybe even the coolest person I've ever fought." He blushed. He swallowed. "Or had a crush on."
"Fuck off, c**t." Daemian rolled his eyes. "Rubbing salt in my wounds now too? And they call you the babyface king..."
"No, I'm serious, D! I didn't mean to make you feel small. I never meant that. I really think that championship fight could have gone another way and I'm not just saying that. Most people I can steamroll. You? You're honestly the only real challenge I've ever faced." Laughing, Joseph scratched the back of his neck. "You're also a bit of a baby. But...I think you're a cool baby."
For a moment, Deadboy stared straight ahead at this beautiful, muscular man in front of him...with only the bleeding and severed bodies of abominations to bridge the gap between him and his rival.
"You're so fuckin' weird, Joseph. Does anybody know that? That White Tiger is a huge dork?" He smiled.
Joseph smiled back. "Those...who are closes to me do. I hope so, anyway."
"ENOUGH!" Redback roared (the two GSA spellbreakers had honestly forgotten he was still in the room). "Tormented souls....feast!"
The pale shades with the bulbous stomachs, thin necks, and white eyes reared their heads. A black vapor trailed into their mouths. Deadboy and Joseph found themselves abruptly ill and weak, and that they could no longer call upon their glyphs.
"They...they ate our magick!" Deadboy stammered.
Joseph sucked his teeth. "Technically, they devoured our chi, but same principal. A temporary loss, but not at all convenient considering the circumstances..."
"I thought only jiang-shi could do that?"
"Your knowledge of the Chinese supernatural is a serious turn-on, Daemian, but now is not the time for discourse." Tiger took a fighting stance. "We'll do this without our powers."
"Right!" Deadboy said. "Don't need magick to kick arse! We survive this, we're plotting a rematch--got it? The GSA will love it. Buck will cream his dacks"
"Heh. You're on."
"You ready for a tag team, Tiger?"
"You...seem way too excited about this."
Deadboy and Tiger took to the offense, slamming ghouls around like it was a royal rumble. Deadboy yanked back one and had Tiger pummel it into a pulp.
"NO!" Redback groaned, yanking furiously at their own head covering. "You're not supposed to be having fun; you're supposed to be DYING!""
Daemian ignored him. "Ugh, submission doesn't work on things that can't feel pain. I'll just have to..." He picked up the nearest ghoul and broke it cleanly over his knee. "Well, that does that. So...Joseph...how's your mum?"
"Still playing cello," Tiger said casually, suplexing a ghoul into his downed buddy on the floor.
"Nice. Nice. Haha. You know, it's kind of a laugh, yeah? You never scared me. But the idea of meeting her? Now that's bloody horrific."
"Oh man, I feel the same way."
"You...were embarrassed by me, yeah?"
"What!? That's not it."
"Please," Deadboy sighed. "A fuckhead like me, raised by a drunk in the middle of the outback. And you, all....dignified and going to yum cha and shit."
"Yum cha isn't that fancy actually. Your upbringing doesn't bother me. You think I care about any of that? "
"Your mum probably does."
"Well..." Joseph cracked two ghouls skulls together and let them drop to his feet. "I dunno, Lachlan--you're a free spirit." He winced. "Sorry, Daemian."
"I..." Deadboy swallowed, and stepped over the bloody, twitching corpses at his feet. "You can call me Lachlan."
Standing in the middle of dead and dismembered demons, covered in green and purple ichor and viscera, Daemian grabbed Joseph and pulled him in for a tight kiss.
Without tearing himself away, Joseph pointed at Redback, in the process of sneakily taking the Chalice off the counter. A wind current hooked it and ripped it out of his grasp, putting the artefact gently in White Tiger's hands.
"Fuck this," Redback snarled. He picked up a small pendent, still clutched in the cold, dead hand of the fallen cult member, and held it to the light. A portal opened. "Disgusting. Making out in a fucking pile of dead monsters. Who are you freaks?"
Still kissing his partner, Deadboy flipped Redback off. "I'll deal with you later, c***."
"FUCK YOU TOO!" Redback yelled, before vanishing into the aether.
Blood dripped from the ceiling onto Daemian's brow. He finally tore himself away from Joseph's face. "Ah, Joseph. I love date night."
"Same here, D. Same here."
---
The planes above the walled city's rooftops flew so low that one could see clear the passenger's faces through the windows. Daemian and Joseph, sitting among a forest of TV antennae, found their conversations interrupted every ten minutes or so by another low landing. They sat, crossed legged, drinking bubble tea (taro for Daemian, melon for Joseph), with the Chalice of Wisdom tucked safely between them. Hong Kong and its harbor, galaxies of neon lights, stretched out below them.
"To answer your question back there," Joseph started, "I don't want to end up with a stuffed shirt, or a prim and proper guy, like my mom wants. I just want someone fun, who lives by their own truths. She had to get over me liking men. She can get over me dating a bad boy. Who's strong, and powerful. And handsome."
Daemian turned away so Joseph wouldn't see him blush.
"Besides, we know you aren't really evil."
Daemian nearly spit out his boba. "I AM EVIL."
"No you aren't," Joseph said, putting him in a headlock and kissing his head. "You're adorable."
"OH YOUUUU!" Daemian removed himself. "But Joseph, just take a bloody look at ya. You got your shit together. You're a great fighter. You know heaps about things. Art. Music. You're...suave."
"Thank you."
"What would you want with a gremlin like me anyway! Now you now that I'm not just defeatable but I'm bloody insecure as, too..." He sighed.
"And what would you want with a 'hero' like me?" Joseph, keen eyed, looked out into the harbor. "Insecure? You think this brave face is constant? No. I have the whole weight of the GSA and the world on my shoulders. It's why I couldn't stay in Hong Kong and play hero anymore. Because I knew eventually...I'd fail. Just like my father failed us."
"I don't know, man. Fucked up boys, you and I."
"I don't know either, Lachlan. But I think fucked up boys should stick together. Yin and yang. Shadow and light. Opposites do attract, lame as it is to say."
"Mmmm. Too bad I'm already part of a tag team."
"I mean, I wouldn't want to break you and Brax up."
"Oh, we aren't dating."
"That's not what..." Joseph smiled. "So, what first? Rematch or...do you want to try and get back together?"
Daemian gave it considerable thought. He placed his hand over Joseph's. "Let's put Firebird in the dirt first. Then, we can see how we go."
"Huh. That's...oddly level-headed of you, Lachlan."
"Well, what can I say? I'm a changed man. And maybe you're just rubbin' off on me! And speaking of...rubbin' off?"
Joseph looked around. "Uh...\up here? On top of the Kowloon W--"
Daemian jumped on top of Joseph and pinned him to the roof. "Yeah. Why not?" He took off his shirt, his abs glowing in the glow of distant signage. "Did you miss this?"
"You...damn heel."
"That's right. Your worst, most beautiful nightmare."
"If that's the case? Then don't wake me up."
To Be Continued
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