The ocean-side city of Sydney, Australia had long called home to the descendants of dark mages (and their demons). Built on the lands of the Gadigal People of the Eora Nation, the first peoples and custodians of the bright coasts, the colony city prided itself on its gothic architecture, a reflection of the dark magic wielded by its inhabitants. Yet its beaches were anything but shadowy.
Bondi Beach, though perhaps cementing itself as the prime destination for sun-starved tourists from out of town, was still the jewel of the harbor city–and a place where magi, non-magi, and demonkind alike could soak up some sun and surf.
For Akanemaru, who identified as none of the above, it was the bluest place he’d ever seen. The cerulean sky above, and the crystal clear waters below, stretched in a great crescent, with homes and businesses rising up in great slopes–adjoining rocky cliffs–where sand met land. The oni, and his jet-lagged companion spellbreakers, stood at the top of a staircase over a ‘natural’ pool, where the ocean tide mixed with bathers.
“Gimme a mo,” Deadboy, sporting his new mullet-style hair, said as he took a final drag on his cigarette. He wore a black cutoff with the logo of his favorite death metal band, Fetus of God. “Let me finish my dart.”
Iggy Astro was already primed for the beach, bronze skin slicked with sun-screen, and wind-tossed hair full of rockstar volume. The Brazilian beefcake in the scantily green speedo adjusted his pink sunglasses and smirked at his friend. “I thought you called them ‘fags’ here?”
Daemian flinched and gave him a dirty look. “I’m gonna call you a blood ambulance, you pink prick!” He flicked this cigarette at Iggy, who reflected it with a swift arc of light magic.
Brax, wearing smiley face print board shorts (and a polka-dot inner tube), growled behind his human companion. “No swearing on vacation. We have talked about this, mortal kindred.”
Daemian pouted, feeling ganged up on by his best mate and his best demon mate. “Can’t believe you’re doing me raw in my own damn country. I was the one who convinced Colt to choose Bondi as our home base for this year’s Beach Days, and do you know how hard it is for ME to convince him of anything?”
Akanemaru, in jeans and a T-shirt that read, “Fuck you, You Fucking Fuck”, had tuned out his annoying buddies. He was so entranced by the sight of the blue ocean, and the fresh smell of the sea breeze. “This is…pretty fucking pretty,” Akanaemaru had to admit, staring out at the sand and sea below the hill.
Something was off. Or rather, it was the absence of something that Akananemaru zeroed in on. This many humans in one sitting…none of them were staring or gawking at him. And, as the gang proceeded beachward, Aka noticed the mixed crowed. Most were human. Not all however, looked like the scrawny, hairless apes Aka had forced himself to get to know (and not break in half) these past few months.
Case in point, the pair of purple-skinned, bikini-clad succubi passing by , with raven hair and ruby colored horns, whispered and giggled to each other as they passed by the statuesque oni.
Before Aka could snap at them, Iggy elbowed him in the side. “Looks like someone’s a babe magnet.”
“Don’t touch me,” Aka said, though mostly he was glad his skin color hid any chance of blushing. “Besides, I already told you, I’m into dudes. Still…it’s interesting that nobody is giving me the stink eye.”
“That’s why I chose it,” Deadboy said, stripping off his shirt and revealing his milky-white, wiry build. “Here in Sydney, everyone’s a freak! You think a guy with horns is gonna stand out here?” Deadboy jerked his thumb towards the dutiful lifeguard, a nonchalant octopus-shaped demon with eight arms, dutifully scanning between the swimming flags for any signs of danger.
Iggy put his arm around Deadboy. “One might think you chose the location just to do our new trainee a kindness.”
“What? Me?” Daemian brushed him off. “Nah, you got the wrong necromancer, chook. Now, make sure you slip, slap, slop. Brax, you got the sunscreen?” Daemian directed affairs as he stripped off his jeans and threw them over his shoulder.
“Nice speedo!” Iggy marveled, giving Daemian a small pat on his shapely butt. “I thought a punk like you would be…I dunno…anti-beach?”
Confused, Daemian tugged on his purple speedos, emblazoned with a pink, graffiti skull–uncharacteristic colors for a fighter whose arsenal included a move quite literally called ‘Back in Black’. “No Aussie bloke would ever be caught dead at the beach without their budgie smugglers.”
The gang walked to the appointed destination, a great-big beach umbrella with the GSA logo (Colt, as always, insisted on the branding). Aka, with his nose upturned, looked over the assembled crew. There was Gio and Rosa, lounging on beach chairs, sun-tanning in matching green speedo and bikini. They looked so cute that it made Aka want to puke. Then there was Kengo, in blue trunks with a bear-print motif), nearer to the shore. He appeared to be in the process of removing a watermelon from a cooler…for reasons unknown (and suspicious).
The large one, Colt’s right-hand man, John Henry was already in the water working on his laps. No sight of the others as far as Aka could tell, besides Cian–tucked under the umbrella–resting on a beach towel.
Iggy approached the young stud as if he had committed some unspeakable crime. Iggy ripped the sunglasses off his face and pointed accusingly at Cian. “What is this, honey?”
Cian turned over onto his stomach and yawned. ““What is what?”
“You’re…fully clothed.”
Cian grunted. Eyes still shut. “I burn easily.”
“It’s called a strong SPF, bicha!” Iggy was of the mind to kick sand onto the brawler, when he remembered something even more devious. “Remember our deal, Cian. If you lose at the Beach Games, I get to put you in whatever I want.” They winked. “And it’ll be so much skimpier than what I’m wearing.”
“I…I never said ‘yes’ to that deal, Astro! I’m just waitin’ til the tug-o-war contest starts. I’m resting me muscles.”
Akanarmaru, coming up behind Iggy, frowned. “What the hell is a tugging war? This more pervy shit you do when Colt isn’t looking?”
Brax was all too happy to explain. “It is the first challenge for these so-called ‘Beach Gmes’. It is a contest of raw strength, in which humans take up a rope on either side of a line, and try and pull a demarcated section towards the point of victory. My own kind is wont to participate in a similar endeavor.” Brax sniffed. “Albeit, we use the tied up entrails of our vanquished foes, and their leader’s head instead of a flag, and then we feast on the losing party.”
Akanemaru nodded, casually. “See, that sounds more like my style.”
“Our cultures are not so different, it seems,” the hulking, canid demon said.
Before the demon or oni could discuss further common ground, however, Iggy Astro butted into the conversation, gesticulating wildly at Akanemaru’s state of dress. “You too? We are at the beach, Aka! You have to show off the bod.” Iggy flexed their muscles, and threw in a hair toss for good measure.
“Rrrright,” the oni sighed. This wasn’t a battle he wanted to fight. He tossed off his shirt and jeans. His swimwear of choice(selected by Iggy, of course) were tiger-striped, square cut trunks not unlike his standard wrestling gear. “Happy now?”
Iggy whistled. “Very. Cian here could take note.”
Cian responded by giving Iggy a rude gesture.
“Now,” Iggy started, taking a wine spritzer out of the cooler, “where is my boyfriend?”
“He’s with the boss,” Cian said, from his resting position. “They’re sortin’ out the hotel. He should be here soon.”
“Hey, bad boys!”
Iggy, Daemian, Aka, and Brax turned their heads towards the familiar voice. If anybody was fit to be ‘king of the beach’, it was Robbie ‘The Icewolf’, cool where it was hot. The tan stud with short-cropped hair wore sunglasses, with a splotch of zin on his nose. His body was enviable, all muscles sculpted to perfection thanks to his hockey antics. And he knew it too. He wore a tight, mint-colored speedo that left little to the imagination, and walked like he was the big swinging dick of the beach. To drive the point home, his speedos bore the words ‘ALPHA’ in big, white block print on the back.
Iggy exchanged annoyed looks with Daemian. “Ugh, even I have to admit he looks delicious.”
“And bad they’s,” Robbie said, smirking and removing his sunglasses. “Was waiting for your broskis and hoeskis to arrive. Daemian, my deadly dude, I gotta’ say, this place is great!” Robbie gestured to the handsome, surfer boys walking past. “Stud city, too.”
Internally, Daemian was touched at the compliment. Externally, he wouldn’t dare show it. “Thanks, mate. But I thought you Canooks melted in environments like this.”
“No, way, bro,” Icewolf said, striking a double bicep pose. Behind him, a skinny, curly-haired surfer saw him and tripped over himself in the sand. “I always stay cool.”
“You smell of coconut,” Iggy sniffed. Then, he got an idea. Whispering, as to make sure Cian didn’t hear, he grabbed Robbie by the broad shoulders and steered him away. “Now, Robbie, maybe we can do some talking. You want to see Cian in something…naughty, right?”
But before Robbie could answer, Kengo came bounding over. He was too nice and precious that not even Iggy and Daemian could snark on him. Aka, as well, held a strange reverence for the shy sumo–who reminded him of the wrestler that he had fallen in love with some centuries earlier (a long story, to be sure)
“We are gonna meet Spike and his new boyfriend!” Kengo said. “They should be here soon.
Cian sat up, annoyed at all the commotion. “Why you avoidin’ usin’ the big, flamin’ bastard’s name? Not like Vahni is some demon who can be summoned just by saying his name aloud.”
Brax and Deadboy immediately turned to Cian and said, “It’s actually more complicated–”
“Ugggh,” Robbie said, upset that his mellow had been harshed. “I thought I was the beach bully. That big jerk is going to totally crash our chill vibes. I just know it.” Deadboy pounded his fist in his hand, creating a brief explosion of frost (that instantly melted). “One of these day, I’m gonna get in the ring with him and give him what for!”
“Give WHO what for?” A sinister, rich, and refined voice came from not far away.
Even Daemian, the Prince of Darkness, and Iggy Astro, the Monarch of the Cosmos, turned pale to hear that familiar, frightening (and slightly sexy) growl. Til that moment, those two were the undisputed, nastyboy heels of the beach…
That was, until Vahni Rage, looking like a male model doing time for murder, sauntered up to the GSA’s beach spot…with a surprise in tow.
Robbie’s back stiffened–and suddenly, the Alpha looked more like a pup with his tail between his legs. Then, he saw Vhani’s arm candy.
But it was Cian who said his name first. “Spike!”
Of all the beauties on the beach, none were more beautiful than the feathery haired, hunky, five-foot-seven stud accompanying his significantly taller (and scarier) boyfriend. Spike Waterford, the Sailorboy spellbreaker who had helped save the world only half a year ago (or by several decades, depending who you asked) looked like an angel taking up a gig as a pinup boy. His celebrated return was quite a surprise…though not as surprising as the fact that he’d forewent his usual skimpy gear for square cut ‘sailor style’ trunks. The cut matched Vahni’s, though the former Wrathful Warrior of Flames had chosen a tasteful, solid burgundy swimsuit, hemmed with gold.
“Hello, boys,” Spike said, with a wink. “Did ya miss me?”
“Ahem.”
The spellbreakers stared blankly between Spike and his beefcake, who had come short of killing Spike the last time they’d seen the two together in a ring.
The babyface king scratched his head and blushed.
“So…this is my…boyfriend, Vahni.”
The long-haired, swarthy murder machine smiled. “Hello!”
Iggy, Daemian, Brax, Cian, and Robbie all groaned in unison. “We know who he is.”
“Well, I sure the fuck don’t!” Aka was confused. Another smelly human. How was he supposed to keep track? He did know Spike, at least, and tilted his head politely. “Ah, our true leader has returned.”
Confused, Spike pointed to his toned chest and mouthed the words, “Me?”
There was tension on this beach, and as Robbie would have put it, Rage’s appearance had totally brought the vibes down.
“I am not here to cause trouble,” Rage said, magnanimous–or what passed as magnanimous for Rage. “Unless you give me reason to, that is.”
Everyone flinched.
“And I rather you would not. For though I am a dangerous man…I am also a man of leisure and, as you Americans say…” Rage sighed and spoke through his teeth. “I am…down…to clown.” And, as if it pained him to do so, Rage raised his hand and gave his peers the ‘let’s rock gesture’.
“Oh, that’s so uncanny,” Iggy whispered under his breath to Deadboy, who looked like he was ready to try and deck Vahni right in the face.
Vahni stepped forward, more intrigued by the red oni than anybody else. “Ah, this must be Akanemaru.”
Aka raised an eyebrow. “What? You heard of me?”
All the spellbreakers, Spike included, braced themselves for a brawl. The two must hot-headed heels in the fed were now eye-to-eye with each other. “When’s Colt coming back again?” Robbie asked his companion.
Rage looked the oni up and down. “Impressive figure. Spike has told me all about his travels, and the many opponents he has faced. I hear you are a formidable warrior.”
Aka blinked–and looked just a little bit bashful. “Well, finally, someone with good taste.”
The unthinkable happened. Rage and Akanemaru shook hands.
“The oni are similar to my people’s concept of the Asura,” Rage said. “Therefore, you are worthy of my recognition.”
Iggy couldn’t believe it. “Oh no, they’re getting along,” he whispered to Daemian.
“Our flight just got in,” Spike said, sheepishly nudging the sand with his toe. “We’re still a bit jet lagged. It’s…been awhile since we last saw each other, huh?” Spike smiled at Cian. “Cian.”
Cian said nothing, his face unchanged, as he flipped Spike the bird.
“Great! Some things…never change, I guess. Hahaha.” Laughing nervously, Spike approached Iggy and their coterie of bad boys. “Wow, so many hot men who have either caused me bodily harm or sexually dominated me, or both. I must be a lucky guy!”
Iggy pretended to stare Spike down, but not even the rockstar stud could hold back a smile. “You come here, you big slut,” he said, pulling Spike into a tight embrace, a snuggle, and then–unsurprisingly–a kiss on the mouth.
“Hey!” Rage snarled.
“It’s okay,” Spike explained, tearing himself away, “They’re just Brazilian. It’s how they say hello.”
“Oh. Got it.”
Daemian grabbed Spike next, cuffed him on the arm, and then burped loudly in the face.
“That’s not how Aussies say ‘hello’,” Spike winced.
“Nope. It’s how I say it, though. Good too see you, Spikey.”
“Small friend,” Brax acknowledged. “It is likewise to reacquaint. I have not seen you since you helped us thwart the end of days.”
Sprke shrugged, nonchalantly. “You know me. Busy schedule.” He looked around at the splendid sands, the blue skies, and the oceanic splendor. “So this is Bondi, huh?”
“Yup,” Deadboy said, grabbing a beer from the cooler. “We coulda’ gone to Manly Beach, but I didn’t want to bother with the ferry.”
“There’s…a manly beach?” Spike, immediately put into a drooling reverie, said, picturing a shore full of frolicking studs in tiny swimwear.
And speaking of studs, here came another–this one, perhaps, the studliest of them all. Even on a beach full of sun-tanning demons, however, El Amante Intoxico (Victor) stood out in his purple mask.
“Hola, chicos!” the affectionate luchador said, with an outrageous, fruity cocktail in his hand. “SPIKE! IT IS YOU”
Spike looked El Amante (mostly his abs and enormous pecs) up and down, before turning and giving Iggy a particularly nasty look. “You put him in freakin’ board shorts?”
Iggy giggled nervously to themself. “Well, Vicki tends to…cause distractions in his speedos.”
“Sure, yeah, but that’s kind of like putting a curtain over the Mona Lisa, ain’t it?”
Victor took a long sip from his fancy drink. “Oh, hey, Rage.”
The long-haired heel nodded respectfully. “El Amante.”
Even so, the masked man cupped his hand to his cheek and spoke (loudly) to the others. “Is he…you know…allowed to be here?”
“Yes!” Spike protested, grabbing Vahni’s bulky arms and holding it tightly to his chest. “He is my boyfriend! BOYFRIEND.”
“My lion, I think they’ve heard you the first time,” Rage said.
El Amante shrugged. “I love all kinds of love, so this is fine. Anyway, Colt is setting up the rope.”
“Oh good,” Iggy said to Daemian. “They’re finally going to hang you for your crimes.”
“It’s for tug of war,” El Amante explained. “The first of the Beach Games.”
This, apparently, set off the overly enthusiastic Icwolf, who nearly knocked over Kengo’s meticulously balance watermelon (earning him a dark glare). Brimming with useless testosterone and enthusiasm, Wolfie punches the air. “Aw right! I’m totally ready to kick some ass.”
El Amante waited for his peer to cool down, before he continued. “Colt will explain the rules in greater detail, but to give you a brief overview–the teams will be split between good boys…” El Amante struck a pose and flashed his pearly whites, “That’s me–and…ustedes.” He pointed to Iggy, Daemian, Aka, and Brax, all while holding his nose.
Cian raised his redhead from beneath the shelter of the umbrella. “What about us tweeners? It’s too hot to be a heel right now.”
“A fair question, my pale-skinned, Celtic god,” Victor said, after taking a prolonged sip of his ridiculous cocktail. “Mmm, this is a bit weak. You and Robbie will be evenly divided. We will allocate you as needed to ensure it is a fair contest.” He glared at the group of baddies. “A fair contest, understood? Especially for the tug-of-war”
Akanemaru, who had been listening intently, cupped his chin in his hands. “A war, huh? But I didn’t even bring my battle club. Colt said they wouldn’t let me bring it through customs. Guess I’ll have to find the nearest armory…”
“No, not that kind of war,” Victor hurriedly explained. He tossed the empty cocktail glass, full of ice and fruit, over his shoulder–nearly hitting White Tiger–signing an autograph for a polite, goat-headed girl–in the process.
“Who keeps throwing stuff at me!?”
Victor ignored him. “You simply try and pull a flag to your team’s side with a rope, while the other team tries to pull it to their side, and whoever gets it over the line wins. It’s a test of strength!” To illustrate this, Victor flexed his arms and pumped his pecs, causing a group of girls walking nearby to fall faint into their boyfriends arms…at which point, their boyfriends fell over into the sand as well. “Oops!”
“Hmm, sounds nifty,” Aka said,much to everyone’s surprise. “And at what point do we cut the other’s heads off and drink from their neck stumps?”
“That’s the best part, mi amor, you don’t!” Victor smiled. “And there will be a cash prize for the winner. Colt will explain the rules when he’s set up.”
Aka grunted. “This sounds lame; I dunno. What’s a ‘cash prize’?”
Iggy stepped in to try and spare their boyfriend any further confusion. “Allow me to explain,” they said, taking Aka by the arm (and immediately getting growled at). “It’s how you get that motorcycle you’ve had your eye on, you big, red, beefcake.”
Now this changed everything. “I have been saving up,” Aka said. “Hmm. Alright, we gotta win this shit. No matter what.” The oni roared. “NO MATTER WHO DIES AT OUR HANDS.”
“Love the enthusiasm,” Iggy said, nervously, “but please, people are looking at us now. And, in any case, I was sort of hoping the Beach Days…might involve less death?”
“Nah, fuck it,” Daemian interjected. He took a swig of his beer and burped loudly. “Let the bodies hit the floor.”
All this time, Rage looked at the squabbling, strange spellbreakers of the GSA and tried to make sense of them. “Is this how they normally act…my lion?”
“Pretty much.” Spike smiled. “I missed it.”
At this point, Akanemaru was fully engaged in the contest. He pointed to Spike’s hunk. “Well, if it’s heels vs faces, that means Rage is on our team.”
Rage pointed to himself. “What? Oh, no, I don’t do contests. I don’t do…’fun’.”
Spike nudged him. “Try it, babe. Besides, we’ll get to square off again. And this time, without attempting to kill each other.”
Rage nodded at that. “Aw, just like old times. Hmmm. Well then. It seems I shall finally get to test the mettle of the GSA.” Rage looked over at his fellow team members and glowered. “Do not disappoint me.”
“Very well,” Iggy said, with a clap of his hands. “Then, team huddle. You too, Rage.” The rockstar whistled to Cian. “You too, buttercup. You’re on our side.”
“I am?” Cian looked up, annoyed.
“You’ll have another opportunity to show me up,” Spike suggested.
Cian jumped up and joined the heels. “Convinced.”
While Spike re-acquainted himself with Kengo and Victor, the gang of malicious misfits gathered around the lifeguard lookout…for the purposes of plotting.
“We must be ruthless in our approach,” Rage said, already positioning himself as leader (much to Iggy’s chagrin). He slammed his fist into his palm, inadvertently causing a flash of flame to sprout from his hands. “If they die, they die.”
Akane maru turned to Daemian. “Dude, I love this guy’s attitude. Where you been keeping him?”
“At arms fucking length,” Daemian whined. “These bloody games. Normally I like having the worst brought out of me, but these games always end up a dog’s breakfast.”
“A mess,” Cian translated, for Aka’s sake. He turned to Rage and glared at him. “I dunno, boyos. This guy here once tried to kill me.”
Rage stared blankly at Cian, his former mentee, for a moment, before addressing the group. “Please kindly raise your hand if I, at one point or another, attempted to end your life.”
All but Brax did so.
“Wait a damn minute,” Damien said, thumbing to the scary, dog-like demon behind him. “You never tried to hurt Brax?”
“Please, Daemian, I’m not a monster.” He looked at Cian. “Do you accept a truce, Faeblood?”
Crossing his arms, Cian reluctantly agreed to the terms, and handed the floor (or beach) over to Iggy.
The pink-haired hunk flicked his hair back, letting free a stream of glitter, as he marched–with drill sergeant authority–around his motley crew. “As the Libra of the group, and someone with a PhD in Beachology, I am the most qualified to organize a strategy. As with any conflict, we must address our weaknesses first. Need I point out that–aside from Brax and Rage–the babyfaces all have the beef! I mean, we’re all svelt, sexy, and muscular Adonises of destruction, but compared to the other side, they have the brawn.”
“The pink one speaks the truth,” Rage agreed, tactfully. “They have Mr. Iron, Gio, and El Amante. Plus, my boyfriend–who is capable of immense strength.”
Iggy nodded. “For the tug-of-war, Viki mentioned that we’ll swap one team member to try and make it more even. He’s the most likely to work with us, because of me. And, for balance’s sake,” Iggy added, “they may give us Rosa as well. She’s pretty scary when you get her going, but she’s no LiuLiu the Great. What can we do?”
Then, Daemian–with twisted grin–laughed under his breath. “I just had me an idea.”
“Put laxative in their protein shakes,” Iggy said, pointing. “I was just going to suggest that!”
“No,” Rage spat. “Spike and I have certain…plans later, that would be impacted by such a strategy.”
“Gross,” Daemian spat, “And not what I was thinkin’ about anyway.” He smirked at Iggy. “Worry not, my pink-haired possum, your devious–and delicious–hunk from hell always has a twisted scheme...”
