Chapter 8: Old and New

The gorgeous, stain glass ceilings and windows around the arena were unlike anything Robbie 'The Icewolf', had never seen in a spellbreaking venue. The stain glass had been enchanted to shift colors at the whims of the light mages on staff, just another poignant touch in a culture that took spellbreaking seriously, but understood its colorful roots.

Still, he wished he was fighting in the ring tonight instead of acting as cheerleader for his team. As Colt had effectively disqualified Deadboy and Icewolf from the World Championships, the frosty jock didn't really have much to look forward to in spellbreaking these days. He figured he might as well enjoy the benefits of travel with his other 'bros'.

"Awwww yeah!" Robbie shouted, startling Gio (and the polite fans sitting around them). "Come on, White Tiger--kick his ass, big bro!"

Even though he wasn't a hometown boy, White Tiger had come out to considerable fanfare, wearing a flashy, silver, tiger striped robe and epaulets modelled off the head of the Merlion fountain (from Joseph's hometown of Singapore). White Tiger, gentlemanly and humble (until you got a spotlight on him, that is) struck a heroic pose a fountain of silver pyrotechnics. Face bathed in sparks, he reared his head up and roared, "ARE YOU READY TO SEE A TIGER KILL!! RAAAAAAAOOOOR!"

The audience, including Robbie, lost their shit. 

Tiger's opponent was the slinky, svelt, and mysterious SIlver Samurai, a masked metal-user who was both an enigma and a skilled fighter. Both Tiger and Samurai were excellent high flyers, weaponizing acrobatics and ropework to kick the absolute stuffing out of each other in spectacular fashion. They were equally matched, and the tension in the air was so thick that it felt like the whole stadium might burst from the stress. It didn't help that the enthusiastic, Japanese audience was usually stone quiet (a sign of respect and admiration), reacting only to the timely execution of moves. 

Finally, after much battling, the tired, bloody, and bruised fighters found themselves entangled on the turnbuckle, with Tiger leaning over the Silver Samurai. Verging on passing out, Tiger summoned the last of strength and depleted Samurai's reserves with a tight, front facing choke, sapping his energy just long enough to execute a stunning 'Retribution of the Four Guardian' suplex of the top rope.

"One...two...three!"

"YAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

After barely managing to get to his feet, Joseph held up his hands in victory, summoning enough energy to let out a mighty roar. He bowed to all four corners of the room, and then helped the Samurai get to his feet.

Mic in hand, Joseph addressed the room, in both perfect Japanese and then English. "Thank you, kind people of Japan. I will NOT be taking your gear, Silver Samurai." White Tiger bowed deeply to his opponent. "A warrior such as yourself only deserves the utmost respect. And...I look forward to the rematch."

Joseph placed his hand on the silent samurai's shoulder. The warrior returned his opponent's bow, with one of his own, and then a handshake. 

"Only a babyface such as the Tiger could earn applause on someone else's home terf," Gio pointed out to his coworker. 

Icewolf was impressed, and a bit annoyed. "I don't think I could ever do that, bro. They'd boo the shit out of me here." He sulked.

"Hmmm. Perhaps you need to learn to be more respectful to your opponents."

Icewolf snorted. "I mean, a loser in silver pyjamas like that? I don't think I could keep a straight face."

"Oh, Robbie, my wolf--this is heel behavior."

"WHAT! I am not a heel, bro. I am a tough face." Robbie sulked. "Tweener at best. Maybe Daemian rubbed off on me a bit too much. I dunno." He sighed. "I miss the big, bad dude. Even if he did smell like chicken soup and cigarettes sometimes..."

Gio wrinkled his nose, grumbling. "I do not. He is crazy! And as you said, he smell bad."

"Which can be kinda hot in a certain mood," Icewolf added.

Gio mad an 'x' with his large hands. "No! No thanks."

While the spellbreakers chatted to themselves between matches, Colt and Mr. Iron, sitting in the VIP boxes some ways aback from Icewolf and Gio, were just glad to see the good-natured but rambunctious Icewolf being weened off the Aussie dark mage's influence. They were not, however, in Japan solely to make nice with their Japanese equivalent fed, Okami. The matter of the Chalices still took precedence. Which is why they had sought to rendezvous with Salim Netjeer, benefactor for the GSA and one of Aradia's board of directors. He would certainly take the matter with the gravity it deserved. 

"Did someone say beeeeeeers!" the giant, handsome Salim said. He sat down with a tray full of frothy mugs for Colt and John Henry's indulgence. All around him, the Japanese audience stared at his massive frame, making sure to get out of the way. They had never seen a man of such stature before. 

"I wonder if he's a spellbreaker too," a group of fangirls (for White Tiger) whispered to each other.

"Nah, I don't think so. Some foreigners are just big, is all. He is really good looking though, no?"

"I wonder if he's White Tiger's manager."

"No, that's Salim Netjeer! He's a wealthy philanthropist who funds all sorts of spellbreaking things."

"Him? I hear he's a bit of a playboy."

"I hear he's very strange. Into artefacts and stuff. He funded a famous documentary here in Japan about Egypt and then one one the Silk Road."

"Oh yes, I saw that one! It was very good. I wonder if a man that busy ever has time for things like love."

"What, are you going to hit on him, Yuko-chan?"

"No way! White Tiger is my dream hunk."

"I used to like Rai, but now I love his rival, Kengo. Mmm. He's so meaty and sweet. I bet he would be good husband material."

"I hear rumors he's gay though..."

"Oh, so what if he is? He better get a good boyfriend then. Someone who can cook for him to make sure he keeps those muscles big. A nice, thoughtful husband like that. Maybe I can match him up with my cousin..."

"I hear White Tiger may be dating Deadboy Daemian too. Ugh, all the good men are gay, I swear. What's a hot-blooded straight woman to do these days?"

The three veteran spellbreakers and their generous benefactor tuned out the fangirl's noise. Colt's mind, at least, was far away from the spellbreaking match about to take place.

"Buck's in Australia still," he sighed. "Hasn't talked to me in two weeks. Talked to Varla though. She refuses to get involved with us."

"Smart woman," Mr. Iron muttered from the corner of his mouth. "Man, is this what it's gonna be like if I have a son?"

"Or a daughter," Salim added, off-handedly. "Or, you know, an Iggy. Children are a handful, no matter what gender expression. Or so I assume, anyway. That's why I stay a confirmed bachelor. Hey, congrats on the incoming kid, by the way, John"

Mr. Iron narrowed his eyes, studying Salim's serene--but all-knowing--expression. "I don't remember telling too many people. Guess word gets out, huh? Anyways, Colton, Buck will come around. He's a level-headed fella'. And if I may be blunt, he's done a good job of running the GSA." He added, with complete candor, "Even if it's not the way that YOU would run it, cowboy. I mean, look, are your employees happy?"

Colt crossed his arms and sulked. "Yeah, I guess. I just..." He shook his head. Judging from the static teasing out his long hair, Salim and John Henry could tell he was stressed, generating excess electrons. "I'm just worried about the kid is all. And I'm worried about the way this championship is heading, especially with Firebird...you know..."

"Basically being a front for magickal terrorists working on behalf of Russia," Salim said, raising a glass. "Why, as you Yanks say, 'beat around the bush'? We know they're nuts, habibi. Why do you think Aradia is on their case. Besides..." Salim lowered his voice. "I think the US and Europe are going to be making moves on Russia very, very soon. Word I hear from my buds in Egyptian intelligence is...the Tsar isn't in very good health, and his generals aren't as organized as they'd like the rest of the world to think. With their recent stunt against Poland, and all the rumors swirling about the Black Library..."

Colt pointed a firm finger in his friend's direction. "Sir, if the damn CIA comes a-knockin', I swear it'll be the thing that tips my blood pressure over into stroke territory. You were the ones that got us into this fine mess with the Chalices."

Salim smiled, taking it in stride, and putting his enormous arms around Colt and Mr. Iron (two enormous men themselves). "Ok, but look at how much fun we're having because of it!"

"Grrr." Colt said, shifting suddenly. He winced, moving his arm away in pain. "Goddess-damn it..."

"I didn't think I was THAT strong," Salim said, taken aback.

Mr. Iron, however, was more concerned. "Colt, your shoulder."

"Just a minor dislocation," he muttered, turning away and burying his face in his beer. "When is this damn match gonna start anyhow..."

Mr. Iron frowned. Colt was being...very Colt tonight. "Minor dislocation? You've been burning the candle at both ends, cowboy. When's the last time you got a good night's rest?"

"Rest? When? My wayward kid is out there fighting GIANT MONSTERS with one of my best guys--and absolute headaches--and we got magical assassins comi' after us to boot. You think I'm capable of rest? On top of that, I've got tons of matches of my own. I'm booked. Didn't think I'd take part on this world tour to begin with. And, not to swing the pistol in your direction, slick, but if there's anybody who's done enough for us and should sit this out, it's you."

Mr. Iron raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"You've got a kid on the way, John. I know you're literally made out of metal but..." he trailed off. "I've seen plenty of tough guys whose luck ran out unexpectedly. I don't want you to be one of them. I've been thinking. Once I get through to Buck, maybe you should take over as president for a bit. Or run this thing with me."

Several different throughs ran through Mr. Iron's head. Salim looked on, silently amused. "Gee...Colt...I dunno."

Colt shrugged. "I'm getting old, John." He pointed to his shoulder. "I truly hate to admit it. But...I think it's maybe time I hung up my boots for good. Let the new blood take over. What's the point of training them if we can't make way, eh?"

"Heh. You should try telling your son that sometime."

"...Maybe." Colt looked down at the ring, at the crowd, at Gio and Icewolf sitting in the front row, excitedly chatting about Goddess-knows-what. "India's in two weeks. Spike vs Rage. That heat between them could melt the sun, and not just because of Rage's powers."

Salim grinned. "A spellbreaking title match hasn't been garnered this much anticipation and excitement since...hmm...perhaps your first showdown with Serpent. I don't think out little blonde habibi has fully grasped the magnitude of it yet. Perhaps, it is for the best he does not. It might give him more anxiety."

"Goddess-damn," Colt said, empathically. "Spike's damn good, sure. I love someone who defies my expectations, and that boy's been full of surprises. But against Rage? I just don't know. Things are going in directions I didn't expect. Don't like it. And...I don't like what I'm hearing about him and Buck being involved with each other, neither."

Mr. Iron and Salim exchanged silent, concerned looks.

"Look," Colt said, "I'm gonna use the gentleman's. Be back before the fireworks begin."

Colt left Mr. Iron and Salim together, and it was only then that Iron noticed the subtle tension between him and the large benefactor. Something about him...was bothersome.

"A coin flip," Salim said, suddenly.

"Beg pardon?"

"You're wondering if you get through these next few months alive." Salim was far too casual in his speaking. "I got a hunch about these things, boss. Stay the course and fight Firebird, and you're looking at half-and-half." His expression, normally carefree, suddenly became grave. "I'm serious. I didn't want to have to tell you this either. You've been a phenomenal soldier."

Mr. Iron looked into his beer. No answers there. "You talkin' like it's the first time I saved the world," he said, smirking. 

"These boys don't know what you're capable of doing. You're truly a hero, Iron. Most who've done what you've accomplished would write books and scream it from the mountaintops. I know you said you're doing this to make sure your kid has a safe world in which to grow and thrive, but..." Salim placed his hand on the large man's shoulder. "You have allies. We're here to take the heat off you, boss. And I promise you, if I get my favorable outcome, then the world will be in a lot better place than it is now."

Mr. Iron immediately forced himself to act thankful and understanding, but the truth was, something about Salim's words felt...off to him. "What's your grudge against Firebird, anyway? Why have you really gotten involved in this?"

Salim smiled. The Mona Lisa would have been jealous. "If I told you everything about me, I wouldn't be so interesting, would I? Let's just say, I suspect Grigorivich is a bigger threat than anybody knows. Our last war was started by idiot men, who were, nevertheless, mortal."

"And you sayin' Grigorivich is...what? A demon? A god? Something hinky like that?"

"Oh, I suspect he's all too human. I just fear he's concealed the full extent of his powers. Plus...what's his endgame? The Chalices contain the provenance of the Goddess, right? During the war, the Albans and their secret societies wanted to get their hands on them, and most people thought they were crazy for doing so. Wrote them off. But we've seen what kind of weirdness surrounds these Chalices. Gods. Spirits. Creatures from other worlds. All seem to be drawn to those damn cups."

Iron nodded, taking it all in. "Well, we know they're meant to be used in a sacred ritual in Eden."

To which Salim, ominously, replied, "But have you considered what else they could be used for?"

"...No."

"That's the thing, habibi, nobody has. Except...perhaps, Grigorivich."

---

"Well, well, little cub," the tall, muscular spellbreaker in the dragon scale tights said as he approached his opponent, doubled over in agony. "Such a familiar situation we find ourselves in again." Rai sneered. His phantom dragon coiled around him, eyes glowing blue, ready for the killing strike.

Kuma Kengo, wearing his signature fundoshi, placed his hands on his knees, panting, blood dripping from his nose. He looked down at the bloom of red in his hand. "I...won't lose this time."

"Just like when we were kids," Rai sneered. "Kengo, I admire how far you've come in this sport. I really do. But challenging me again? Now that was a step too far." With a flick of his hand, Rai willed his dragon spirt summon into attack position. "How did I finish you off again last time? Oh yeah. Squeezing the stuffing out of you with my dragon friend, like anaconda to its prey."

As Rai willed his dragon into the attack, fangs bearing, he failed to notice the slight smile that had cut across Kuma's face.

"Blood," Kengo said. "As a medical student, I know spilled blood means danger. But, as a spellbreaker...it is a gift. There are many ways to beckon the spirits, you know, Rai. An offering of oranges or food. The sound of bells." Kengo, confidently cracked his neck and motioned for the dragon to strike. "But bears are drawn to scent of blood. I am no different. And neither is my summon! Come FORTH, Bear King Minoru!"

And like, hurry up pleeeease!

As the long dragon positioned itself to squeeze Kengo to death, a fountain of light erupted from Kengo's back tattoo, and a large, luminous shape sprung forth, claws at the ready.

"GET FUCKED, SCALEY!" the bear king roared, sinking its jaws into the dragon's neck!

"GAAAAAH!" Rai and his summon shrieked at the same time, both experiencing the same searing pain. Particles of light burst from the dragon's wound. For Rai, a geyser of blood. 

The audience, shocked, reacted with cries of fright. Even Colt, normally composed, couldn't believe how far his pupil had come. "Hot damn, boy."

Kengo had to suppress his instincts to rush over and assist Rai. He had soma in him. He would be fine. Even after this next part.

Hopefully...

As Rai sprung up onto his feet, one hand pressed over his wound, he snarled at his childhood friend and current opponent. "You BRAT! I'll KILL--"

"What will you do now?" Kengo said, as he arm dragged Rai into his grasp, and picked him up off his feet.

"I...uh..."

SLAM!

Kengo spiked Rai into the mat, just underneath the turnbuckle. The whole ring shook. It was a very disadvantageous position as well, Rai was soon about to discover.

At the other end of the ring, Minoru tore his claws through the phantom dragon. It shattered into particles of light, sending it back into the unseen. The sun bear spirit looked over. "Attaboy, Ken!"

Kengo stood on the top ropes, looking out into the crowd. He met Colt's smiling eyes. The cowboy nodded. 

Ohgodsohgodsohgods. Kengo gulped. Then, he summoned his resolve. Glowing with blue fire, he struck his fist to his chest. "One thousand spirit shattering...SENTON!"

Rai looked up just in time to see nearly 300+ pounds of Kengo coming down on him. Butt first.

BOOM!

The horrified ref fell to Rai's side. Keno, sitting on his defeated opponent, crossed his arms over his chest.

"Damn! Get a spatula," Mr. Iron said.

Gio couldn't believe it. "He smushed him...with his butt."

Icewolf sighed. "I know, bro. Lucky bastard..."

Twitching and gasping for breath, Rai, barely conscious, looked up at his scowling, giant friend. "Can't...breathe..."

"Hmph" Kengo stared down at him. Polite as he was, he couldn't help but smile. "Say sorry for throwing my Pretty Astral Princess Warrior manga into the river and I'll get up."

"But...we...were...like...six-years -old."

Kengo shifted on his seat. "Huh. Funny. This is a very comfy seat, actually."

"Agh! Okay, I'm sorry!" Tears in his eyes, Rai pleaded, "Kengo, you already pulverised my ribs...don't pulverize my pride too."

"We are even," Kengo said, standing. He graciously allowed the ref to hold up his hand. As Minoru dematerialized back into Kengo's back tattoo, the humbleness returned as well. Kengo blushed, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, gee...I guess I did it, huh?"

"I need...assistance," Rai groaned from the ground, as the medical magi sprung into being.

It was the first time since joining the GSA, that Kengo had honestly felt like a winner. Unexpectedly, he found a microphone in his hands. "Hmm?"

The promoter nodded. "Just a few words!"

"Uhhh...I dunno." Kengo gulped. "Um...okay. Yes, is this on? Yes, it's on. Okay. First, I want to thank my mom, who's in the audience. Hi, mom."

Somewhere in the quiet room, a woman shouted out. "I love you, son!"

Everyone in the audience 'awwwed'.

Except for one rude, haughty voice blaring in from over the speakers. "Ho ho ho! Well done little bear and little dragon. But you've sullied my ring for the last time."

Rai, finally, managed to pull himself off the mat. He looked over at the confused ref, and the even more confused Kengo.

"Ugh, it's that loser, Ken-kun."

"Who is..."

The ringside commentator, a tutu sporting catgirl named Nekole, piped up. "Oh nyaoooo! It's the Wonderful Tsubaki and his Kappa Boys!"

The audience found themselves forced to press their hands to their ears as a blare of motorcycles, and ensuing exhaust, filled the auditorium. Strange, green, imp creatures--a cross between ducks and turtles--burned rubber down the entrance aisle, all of them sporting nifty leather jackets, and their choppers completely souped up with fancy grills, decals, and lights. Some of the creatures carried kendo sticks in their free hands. Others, chains and pipes. There were at least six or seven in total. The ref immediately turn tail and fled.

And, appearing on top of the entrance arch, dressed in a shoulder padded, studded, pink leather jacket, (and with glorious, gold hair that even Iggy Astro might envy) their leader. Pink lipstick. Purple eyeshadow. The swishy villain licked their lips and announced their wicked intent.

"Oh ho ho hooo. Yes, 'tis I--the gorgeous, Wonderful Tsubaki, here to steal the show!"

Kengo did a double take. "He looks...like one of the villains from 'CoCo's Strange Saga'!"

The gaudy heel did a pose, half crossing their arms in some kind of strange, pseudo-vogue move. "Kappa Boys. Attack!"

The sun-glass sporting, pompadour-styled, green creature in the front nodded to his men. "'Dawright, boss. Guys, ya heard the boss! Let's kick their asses!"

In the crowd, Icewolf looked at Gio. "Uh...if we're in Japan, why do the Kappas have New York accents like Spike?"

Gio shrugged. "Must just be Gloria's translation magick."

Brandishing their weapons, the bancho kappas stormed the ring, circling and corralling Rai and Kengo. Though they were half the size of the two athletes, they were quick, and they had the numbers. Kengo clenched his teeth, pressing his back to Rai, staring down the strange water creatures. 

Tsubaki pressed the side of their hand to their face, a dainty gesture reminiscent of an effete aristocrat. "HO HO HO! Outnumbered are we? Well, too bad. I saw the perfect opportunity to take two peasants like you off the chessboard, and my cute self just had to take it."

"He's like Iggy Astro but worse..." Kengo grumbled. It was far too soon to summon Minoru. It would fizzle both their energy out. Likely, Tsubaki knew this and had waited for the right moment to attack. "Rai, I need backup here."

But the dragon summoner was out of power too. "Well, maybe I could have helped us if YOU HADN'T SAT ON ME." 

Kengo laughed nervously. "Er...sorry about that." I cannot believe I just won a victory and now I am going to be beaten to death by a bunch of delinquent yokai.

The creatures with the concave protrusions on their heads drew closer, brandishing their weaponry. "We're gonna make yous guyz wish youz neveh been born?"

Why do they talk like Spike? Kengo shook his head, trying to focus. "Hmm. Well, if you want to wrestle, then you should do the right thing and bow to us first!" Yes, that's right! In all the manga I've read, you defeat kappas by making them bow to you, pouring out the water in their heads and robbing them of their strength! Well, it's either that or carve your name into a cucumber and throw it at them...

The leather jacket-wearing leader of the bunch spat on the canvas. "We're bad guys. We don't bow."

"Gah!" Kengo flinched. "This isn't good, Rai. If they beat us up they might..." Kengo swallowed.

"MIGHT WHAT?" The dragon summoner screamed. He was panicking. "DON'T LEAVE ME HANGING--I HAVE ANXIETY!"

"They...they...they'll SUCK THE SOULS OUT OF OUR BUTTS!"

"WHAT!? WHAT!??"

The kappa sneered, licking his lips. "And you got a big, tasty rump there, big boy."

In the audience, Icwolf cocked an eyebrow. "Is it just me, or is this getting weird?"

Gio tapped the side of his head. "Uh...I read in a folktale book that they do, in fact, do that. It is lore accurate."

But before any butt-beating (or eating) could begin in earnest, the lights in the arena suddenly turned a hazy, rosy hue. A high-spirited rock jam blasted over the loudspeakers. Kengo, looking up towards the lighting rig (same as everyone else) felt something soft and fragrant rub against his cheek. 

When he pulled his hand back... "A rose petal?" the perplexed sumo hunk said. "What? It's raining petals? El Amante?"

"What is this nonsense?" Tsubaki, from his vantage point on top of the arch, snarled. He looked up into the shower of petals, now joined by an additional, gentle snowfall.

Out in the audience, Gio looked at the pile of rose petals in his lap. "I...know this magick. This is..."

"Did you miss me, fellas?"

The spotlight illuminated the entrance arch, specifically two strong, feminine silhouettes standing side by side. The kappa in the ring paused their advance, turning their green heads towards the sight of the two intimidating beauties.

The woman in the red, rose-themed gear flexed her muscles for the crowd. Her companion, a cold, beauty in a white kimono and icy-blue wrestling attire, conjured up a fan of ice and cooled herself off. 

"Reina Rosa!" Kengo blurted out. 

Icewolf stood up to get a better look. "Woooah! And who's the frosty, ice babe?"

Nekole was happy to answer the question. "What is going on, audience!? Nyaaa!? It's Reina Rosa and Yuki, the White Gale! A totally powerful tag team that's as deadly as they are pretty!"

Tsubaki growled. "Interference!? DURING MY MOMENT?"

The two lady spellbreakers stormed the ring. The kappa met the assault head on, raising their weapons to lay the smackdown. Rosa was quick to disarm them with her whip-like rose vines, tossing the foreign objects to the floor and lashing the creatures across the face just to prove a point. 

The leader charged at Yuki, who remained still, motionless, and unbothered. She placed her fingers to her lips and blew an icy fog, cutting off the kappa's line of sight. Incapacitated, she turned to her tag partner.

"Miss, I will take to the left. You, to the right."

Rosa nodded, pony-tail bobbing up behind her. "Got it, Yukes."

"My name is not 'Yukes'," she replied in a soulless monotone.

The two ladies jumped into action, dishing out round house kicks and elbow drops. Kengo and Rai jumped in to the help them, now that the playing field have been levelled. 

Icewolf was beside himself with excitement. "Ice...users are so...cool."

Gio, however, was trained on the muscular woman in red kicking kappa butt. "Rosa...she looks." He swallowed, feeling a heat come on. "So strong."

Kengo picked up a scrawny, green creature and tossed it over his shoulder, forcing its water to splash out (effectively knocking it out). "Rosa, I missed you!"

The fighter in red smiled, just as she crushed a kappa's head between her thighs in a standing head-scissor. "Missed you too, big guy. Looks like you could use some support."

"You've...turned face."

"Turning and serving it, bear!" Shew blew him a kiss. Then, the woman stood and conjured up another thorny wall, throwing it into two kappas charging at her with baseball bats. "Eat thorns, you cucumber-munching freaks!"

The grunts were down, leaving the largest pair of brutes to take on the four spellbreakers.

Yuki nodded to her tag partner. "Miss, are you ready?"

"Hell yeah!" Rosa said, flipping up onto the top rope. "Combo attack!"

Yuki summoned an icy wind, propelling her to the opposite tope. She crushed her fan in her hand, diamond-dust orbiting around her arm. "Soul of snow, unto my command."

Kengo and Rai knew they better stand back.

"Rose raid blizzard assault!"

A gale-force wind churned up rose petals, turning them into a perfect spiral around Rosa's body. On the other side of the ring, the snow formed a similar pattern for Yuki. The two queens of the ring jumped into the air, crossing over each other and combining elements, turning their magically-enhanced physiques into missiles of pure energy. 

BOOOOM!

The ring exploded into pink and blue light, scattering shards of ice and shredded roses. Nothing but a pile of two crushed kappa remained, joining their compatriots--strewn across the canvas--in similar twitching, steaming husks. They did it!

The bell rang.

"Thanks, ladies!" Kengo, ever-chipper, said.

Rai crossed his arms. "Hmph. We had it under control." He looked over at Yuki, pushing back her severely cut bob, platinum white, behind her ears. The cold, emotionless woman looked over at the svelt, spirit summoner.

And the spirit summoner found his eyes transformed into a pair of giant hearts. "WOOAAAH! Hello my gorgeous ice goddess."

Yuki blinked. "You should check your head for signs of injury, Sir Rai. You are acting erratically." The ice user nodded to her tag partner. "Miss. What of Tsubaki?"

The dandy devil jumped off the entrance arch, landing with perfect poise in front of the aisle. He threw out his hand, his gold bangles, bracelets, and jewellery melting and reforming themselves into a giant javelin. "How DARE you make a mockery of my assault. CHEATERS! This insult will not go unp--"

"Hey guys," White Tiger said, blotting his face with a towel as he came up behind Tsubaki. He seemed...unaware of what had gone on in his absence. "I was just signing some autographs for the children's hospital, did I miss anything--"

The audience, and Tsubaki, stared blankly at the hero hunk.

"Huh?" Tiger's eyes went from the hundreds of thousand-yard stares, up to the ring. "WOAH, Rosa! You look great, sis!"

"PAY ATTENTION!" The Wonderful Tsubaki screamed, pointing his weapon in the nonplussed champ's handsome face. "GRRR. Your little friends here are TOAST!"

White Tiger smirked. "Oh, I get it. You're supposed a big, theatrical villain huh?"

Kengo nodded and cupped his hands to his mouth. "He's THE WORST!"

The audience heartily agreed. 

Tiger dropped the towel and cracked his neck. "I got ya. Well, Mr. Tsubaki. Any last words?"

The prettyboy heel snarled. "I'M GONNA SKIN YOU AND TURN YOU INTO A PANTSSUIT!"

He barely got the sentence out, however, before Tiger grabbed him by the throat and lifted him straight off the ground. Tsubaki's eyes bulged out of his skull. 

"What...is...this power?"

"Tiger Power," the champ sneered. "Like I said. Any last words?"

"B...b..." Tsubani's eyes began to water with the realization that his fighting career was about to be over in a very painful way. "BALENCIAGAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!"

On that note, Tiger leapt into the air and slammed The Wonderful Tsubaki into the metal grating with the force of a tractor trailer. The sheer impact, and the heel's body, broke through the floor, leaving behind only a black hole...with Tsubaki's fate left uncertain.

"Not so 'Wonderful' any more," Tiger said, flexing his muscles.

Behind Colt, Tiger's three fans promptly gasped and passed out, near synchronized, into Salim, Colt, and Mr. Iron's open arms. Colt laughed. "Yeah...champs like us tend to have that affect on our fans."

---

It was a hell of a way to end the night. Kengo had never seen so many fans and adoring audience members gather around him, asking him for photos and autographs. Though unsure of how to nail poses, or what to say in gratitude, the bashful fighter expressed his gratitude. He had to hold back tears the whole time.

Finally. This is what it's like to be a hero. I wish Spike could see this.

Even sour-faced Rai had to crack a smile, taking a photo for Kengo and his mother, who had come down from the Temple to see them perform.

But it was Rosa, unexpectedly, who felt most on top of the world. While all the other boys were cavorting backstage or indulging fans, she had grabbed Gio and taken him out the back, away from the fanfare. They walked the halls of the arenas, travelling past the gorgeous stained glass windows on display. Rosa felt like she was back in Mexico, walking through one of the old, opulent churches.

"Nobody messes with the GSA," she said, with great enthusiasm, still hyped from the fight. "Okami crew are our friends."

Gio agreed. "Brava, Rosa! Oh, and you dropped this back there."

He handed her a bouquet of tiger lilies. 

Rosa looked down at the flowers in her hands, flattered, but confused. "But...these aren't mine. They're my favorite though. I know, really betrays the rose angle, huh? But I love tiger lilies because--"

"They are one of the flowers you can't grow with your magic," Gio said, on her behalf. He winked. "I remember you telling me. That's why you think they're special."

Rosa looked down at the beautiful blooms, and then, blushing, looked up at Gio. "Gio..."

"Er...they will probably wilt soon."

"I know," she said. She cleared her throat and recomposed herself. "I'm a plant magi too, remember. I know how it works." She strode ahead, not sure if she was just caught up in the moment, or if she was starting to catch feelings.

"You look...bigger, somehow, Gio, than the last time I saw you."

"You got prettier and stronger. Hmm. Red really is your color. Even on your face."

Don't look at me when I'm blushing like this. "Well, it's just...nice to run into old friends. How long are you in town for?"

"A week. And then, we're going to India to fight Firebird. Spike is--"

"Going up against Rage," Rosa said, wincing. "I know. He's good but...he's moving way too fast. Colt is pushing him and pushing him, and not that Spike hasn't earned his stars, but...I don't think he knows what kind of man Rage is. He's dangerous. Psychotic."

"Spike will crush him," Gio said, pounding his hand into his fist. The noise echoed throughout the corridor. "He has come far in just a year. But this is not about Spike. I came here to celebrate you."

Rosa bit her lip. Why was fighting always easier than...this? "Okay, so...if you're here for a week. Do you want to, like..." she trailed off, nervously mumbling to herself in Spanish. "Diosa mia, como le pido una cita..."

"You could just ask, Rosita. You know me. I prefer when people just tell me the obvious thing..."

The fighter in red felt her body grow warm and tingly all over. "You...understood that?"

"Italian and Spanish are similar languages," he said, smiling. 

Kill me now. "Er...right. Well. Okay then! I'm calling you out, Titan! You. Me. And Tokyo's botanical gardens. What do you say?"

The giant, muscle man leaned over and took her hand, kissing it. "I say, you are on, Reina Rosa."

Just as Rosa thought she might melt into the floor, quite the opposite element sprung up on her--the cold. A gust of wind announced the presence of her tag partner, Yuki. Honestly, the woman appeared and vanished like some kind of ghost.

"Miss," she said. Her eyes briefly travelled to Gio.

Rosa sighed. "Yeah, sorry. What's going on?"

The woman in white bowed. "Mr. Colt and White Tiger have asked me to help you in your efforts." She paused "I know where to locate the Divine Wellspring of Knowledge."

Rosa and Gio gasped in approximate synchronization. "You do?" Gio said. "You need to tell White Tiger. He has been looking. Where is it, Miss Yuki?"

The woman looked askance. "Ah, yes. There just...a problem. How do you two feel about...ghosts?"

To Be Continued

Chapter 4: Regrets and Reconciliations

"It's...all so blue."

The lush, green hills stood out against the sky and sea, reflections of turquoise and clear water. Gio and Buck watched the shores of Milne Bay come into view--splendid palms on sandy shores, dotted with fishermen at work. Though chatter had been scarce to begin with, largely due to Buck's secrecy surrounding this sudden detour, any talk came to a standstill, as the GSA boys were silenced by the raw beauty of the Papua New Guinea landscape.

It also didn't help that the third man on this mission, Kengo, was bent over the rail and sea sick. "I should not have agreed to this," the sweaty, handsome sumo said, wiping his mouth and bracing himself against the side of the boat. He pated his brow with his blue, tropical patterned shirt.

Buck tore himself away from the island's spell. "Big guy, we said it was cool for you to go to Japan without us. White Tiger is gonna need help, even if he won't admit it."

Kengo answered with a groan. "I have a duty of care. As son of our big boss, Gio and I must escort you to your destination." His mouth twitched. "Even if you have not told us what the destination is."

Gio, so devoted to the Tamberly family as he was, hadn't question Buck's judgment. "You think the next Chalice is really here, eh?"

Buck said nothing. Besides, the boat had pulled up along the dock. Standing just off the ramp, parked in front of a roomy jeep, a dark skinned woman in practical clothing watched the passengers disembark. Buck locked eyes with her. She smiled and nodded at him.

This is a terrible idea, Buck thought. Every cell of his body told him this much. The boys knew by now how anxious he could get. He was open, and self-deprecating, about his intrusive thoughts and constant catastrophising. He looked down at the note in his hands, and the small baseball card attached to it.

"Dear Buck,

Daemian and I are going to Sydney. I hope I get to see koalas! I also hope I make it there alive. You know how Deadboy can be. The fact that I trust Brax, a literal demon from Hell, more than him, should tell you how I feel about things.

I'm not very good at writing words. But I know you have been through a lot, with Varla and your Dad, and I guess your sister (that's so weird to say!). I have been through a lot of changes though, myself, the past year. I never thought I'd work for one of the best spellbreaking feds. Or that I would get this so far so quickly. It almost doesn't feel weird. And honestly, it still scares me. None of these big, bad spellbreaker guys ever talk about how scary and intense the pressure is. 

And nobody ever gives thanks to the guys behind the scenes either. Even though your dad brought me on, honestly...and don't tell him this...I feel like you've done so much more for me. Because of you, I'm fed. I get to travel the world. You make me look very hot on the posters and fliers...not that it's hard. You do so much for all of us. You've been a great president, and people need to tell you that more.

I know you're going on this big journey and I know it's supposed to be a secret. You don't need magick to be great, but I have given you my lucky baseball card that I carry around. As a Brooklyn boy, I'm supposed to love the Dodgers, but mostly I just thought the guy on the card was hot. Consider it my lucky charm. Give it back to me when I see you again.

I hope to see you soon.

Love,

Spike"

What did he mean by love? Buck didn't want to read too much into it. He hadn't gotten the chance to respond either. Too much on his mind.

Buck, Kengo, and Gio followed the captains command and exited off the boat. The merchants and missionaries around them all gawked. They had gotten used to the stares by now. They stood out. Fortunately, they had magick on their side (Gio and Kengo did anyways) so Buck didn't feel threatened. Much as he hated to admit it, travelling with the two giant powerhouses of the GSA was probably for the best.

"And your father does not know you're here?" Gio said, adjusting his sunglasses.

"I'm still the president of the GSA," Buck said, curt. "I can do whatever I want. And you guys didn't need to come out this far with me."

"But why would we not?" Kengo asked. "You are leader. And..." Kenog blushed. "Oh I shouldn't say this...but, I think you treat us better than your father. Sometimes."

Buck stopped. "Yeah, I know." He looked over at the woman waiting by the jeep. "Are you...?"

"Bridgette," the cheerful woman said. She looked Kengo and Gio up and down, in awe "Uh...I hope you all can fit. You look like very healthy men. The villagers might be in for a shock."

Gio and Kengo tossed each other a glance. "Sorry," Buck said. "Guys, this is Bridgette Murua. She's a travelling nurse here."

"Studying for my doctorate," she quickly added. Buck thought she could be in her early forties. "The people of the village we're going to have thank your team for the food donation. I am not sure they understand your peculiar sport...I told them it's like wrestling...but they seem interested, and gratitude is not lost on these islands." She nodded to the truck. "Well, hopefully you muscle heads don't weigh this thing down."

Still confused and wary, Gio and Kengo followed a determined (yet evasive) Buck into the truck. After a few starts, the engine roared to life. It was slow travel, but Bridgette guided them down the dirt path into the shade of the green forest.

Birds of paradise sang their songs, and the calm light and humid air put him more at ease than he had been on the boat ride over from Port Moresby. "Sorry to be annoying about it, ma'am, but you've confirmed that doctor we're looking for is in this village?"

"What was her name again?"

Buck took a deep breath. "Joanna Martin."

Brigette's eyes lit up at the name. "Oh yes, Dr. Martin is very good. Everyone likes her. She lives with the missionaries, mostly, on the hill. She cured the villager elder when he was sick, and he is fiercely protective of her. He has told the men of the village that he will cut the hand off any man who approaches her without good reason."

Kengo gulped. "She sounds...powerful."

Buck said nothing. In his pocket, he slid this thumb over Spike's lucky baseball card. It had become an unofficial prayer totem for him.

"I heard they eat people here," Gio asked, matter-of-factly.

Buck winced, and Kengo turned a deep shade of red.

Brigette laughed, musically, taking it in stride.

"A few tribes did practice ceremonial cannibalism recently, mostly funeral in nature." "Don't worry, big one. You are not on the menu."

Gio nodded in approval. "If I was, I hope I would be well prepared though."

"Okay, Gio," Buck said, quickly, "thank you for your input."

The car came to a slow stop, and Buck saw the reason right away--a massive, downed tree right in the middle of the path.

Bridgette pursed her lips.  "Ah, there was a big storm last night. They must not have cleared this."

Buck tried not thinking of it as an ill omen, or worse, and excuse to turn around. 

Gio suddenly hurdled over the car door, landing gingerly on the solid ground. "Ah, but Gio can handle it."

"Don't be a show-off with your muscles," Buck warned.

"Don't need muscles for this," Gio smiled. He made a slow, graceful motion with his hands, as if he was picking up an invisible box. Instead, the tree moved upwards with his command, re-rooting itself back where it had been torn the night before.

The bearded Italian turned to his shocked audience, and smiled. "The tree is very thankful to be back where it belong." He returned to the car, which lurched and rocked as the giant man squeezed into the back seat. 

Buck was practically smooshed together between him and Kengo. Spike would be so jealous of me right now, he thought.

"A plant magi!" Brigette marvelled. "The elders of the village will consider you good luck." She restarted the engine (after several attempts). "Though, use caution. Some magick here is considered 'evil'. Shadow conjurers, or those who commune with spirits, are often called 'witch doctors', and regarded with suspicion...or worse."

Next to Buck, Kengo gulped, and shited uncomfortable in his seat. 

The remainder of the car ride was mercifully short, leading them to a clearing comprised of a few tin houses and more traditional huts. A set of women looked up from the fields they were tending, marvelling at the size of the unusual strangers. 

"People here rely mostly on subsistence farming here," Brigette explained. "Sago. Yams. Good foods with carbohydrates and sugar. Your donation will bring them some canned goods in from the Port, which are always welcome. If they offer you food--and they will do so out of respect--please decline it."

"Thank you," Buck said. Suddenly, all of his worries had shrunk with perspective. He hadn't ever considered the reality of even missing a meal, or having not enough to eat. This was, perhaps, the real world that his father had tried to hide from him for so long.

The jeep pulled up alongside one of the larger, more modern houses in the village. Men and children gathered around it, curious, but friendly.

"They're...so big!" the little ones said to each other.

"They have brought us good luck," the older men whispered.

Buck's shoulders eased up. A warm reception was a positive sign.

From somewhere inside the tin shack, Buck heard a pleasant woman exchanging words with another, in English. She spoke with an accent that Buck immediately picked up as familiar. "I put out some fresh towels on the line. Thank goodness that storm didn't cause any damage last night. And you know, I saw a rainbow this morning. I think it's going to be a good day."

Then, the woman appeared at the door to the makeshift clinic. Dark haired, with beautiful, long lashes, and watery eyes. She had come to see what the commotion was about.

"Brigette, what--" she looked up at Kengo and Gio with great confusion. But when he eyes landed on Buck, she almost gripped the door for stability.

She placed her hand over her mouth. "Oh, crap..." Her eyes shook.

Buck swallowed. Right away, Kengo and Gio knew something was up. The men and women of the village shooed the children away from the strangers, leaving the GSA crew and the woman to their privacy.

After a thousand different emotions crossed the doctor's face, she choked down a sob, holding her hands out to...

Buck embraced her, turning his head away from the others before they could see that he too had gone red face and teary.

"How...are you here?" the woman said, in disbelief. Then, she composed herself, her tone--and expression--changing. "Why are you here?"

It was enough to knock reality back into Buck, who turned to Gio and Kengo, who he knew deserved an explanation. "We...should talk inside."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "They spellbreakers?" she asked, making the word 'spellbreakers' sound like a curse word. Her accent sharpened with her pitch. "Well, you came all this way. I'm not going to turn you back. Get here and shut the door."

As Buck followed Dr. Joanna into the shack, he watched her body language shift from kindly and in-control, to annoyed and somewhat defensive. She gestured to a pitcher of water on the counter. "Well, hospitality ain't the same here as it is in Texas. The people here don't have much, but they sure as hell will offer you a lot if you let them. Maybe if you told me you were coming, I could have--"

"How the hell could I have told you when you're all the way out here," Buck stated, cutting her off.

The woman smiled. It wasn't exactly a welcoming smile. "Don't interrupt me. You-know-who always did that."

Gio's back stiffened, and Kengo made a small squeak,

Buck, however, was unbothered. "I'm sorry. I should have sent you a letter. It's just that...I'm on the way to Australia for this tournament thing, and I thought I'd--"

"So this is a spellbreaking thing," the woman said, folding her arms tightly to her (rather ample) chest. "I knew it. Sweet boy, that sport dann ruined my life, and it will ruin yours. Mark my words."

Finally, Kengo summoned the courage to breach the topic. "Umm...so does this lady know where the next Chalice is?"

Joanna looked at him, quizzically. "Chalice? What Chalice?" She shook her head. "Damn it, the boy took the air out of me and my manners must have gone with it." She shook Kengo and Gio's hand. "Joanna Martin," she said. Then, with great hesitation, she added, "But I reckon you know who I am."

Gio and Kengo smiled nervously, and backed away. 

"You haven't told them?" Joanna asked Buck incredulously.

"No! Well, I uh."

"Ugh!" The woman rolled her eyes and tossed up her hands. Irritated, she walked around the table and poured herself a glass of water. "Well, Martin is my maiden name. I never got around to changing my surname. Even though I should have." She took a long drink. "There's a lot of things I should have done, I suppose..."

Kengo bit. "And your last name...miss...would be...?"

The pretty woman glared at him. Then, laughing darkly, she poured herself a glass of water. "My full name is Dr. Joanna Martin-Tamberly."

Kengo blinked. "Huh, but that's Buck and Colt's last--UUUUWHHHHAAAA!!!?"

Buck slapped his own forehead. "I want to die." He acknowledge his companions, bodyguards, employees, whatever they were supposed to be. "Yep. This is my mamma."

"First your sister," Gio said, shocked, "and now you have a secret mother too?"

Joanna raised an eyebrow. "Secret?" Then, she looked sharply at her son. "SISTER?"

Buck grimace. "Yeah, that's well...look...we have a lot to catch up on."

After staring at her son a few cold seconds, Joanna broke into derisive, amused laughter. "Sister. Goddess damn. I'm gonna kill him..."

To say the least, the next hour or so was full of awkward tension thawing into something of a normal conversation. Gio and Kengo proved mostly a polite audience (and perhaps one that had taken on more than they were expecting), while Buck and his mother caught up.

At one point in the conversation, Joanna removed a peppermint stick from a small tin in her breast pocket, and put the confection between her lips. "I don't like to smoke around the villagers," she said. "And the missionaries always give me crap for it." She rolled the candy from one corner of her mouth to the other. "So, that showgirl, eh? You know, you won't believe me, but I actually like that Varla Montes. Lot of moxie." She sighed. "And...I'm not surprised."

"I don't think he slept with her when you and dad were--"

"It doesn't matter," Joanna said, shrugging. "At some point, I stopped caring about what your daddy did." She sighed. "And didn't do. So, he made you president, eh? No surprise there. You're smart. And you're good with people. But tell me this...what's the catch?"

"How...did you know?"

"With your father, there's always an ulterior motive. If he scratches your back, you best believe he'll expect you to scratch his on command."

Buck saw the road map of his mother's journey, from his childhood to the present. Stained with tears, it started with a blue of beauty pageants. Joanna had been blessed with a brain and cursed with good looks and a father that wanted her wedded off to a man of the gentry. Colt was the heir to a farm, and though he would make a name for himself in time, he had already earned himself a more unsavoury reputation around town. High school sweethearts became unexpected spouses when Joanna found herself pregnant with Buck and Colt found himself staring down the double barrel of a shotgun if he didn't do something to remedy the situation. 

Fortunately, the two were in love. Or had been. Joanna, without magick of her own, gave birth to a son who did not inherit his father's gifts. Buck had grown up knowing in his heart that this might have been the first 'crack'. By then, Colt had already made a name for himself. He was away for most of Buck's childhood.

After the divorce, Joanna had stuck around the area, just far enough, but Buck had seen his mother stay quiet, even when he knew she should have, for seventeen years. And so, when he turned 18, she ran as far as she could from the ranch...to world's end, it turned out. Buck not only understood, he encouraged her. Motherhood had been her prison. He would not see her confined on his own account.

In a sad way, perhaps, that is why the woman with the sad, pretty eyes, sitting across from an estranges son, truly loved him all the more.

But whereas Colt could spin a "I know I haven't been a great dad" speech to his son as easy as cutting a promo, Joanna didn't have to speak the equivalent out loud. "You can't expect me to be surprised, Buck."

He flinched. "At...what?"

"Your success." She smiled. "Your art. Becoming president of that damn GSA." She bit her peppermint stick in two. "Look, I just didn't want you to get hurt. Physically...or otherwise. 

This was all becoming way too intense for Buck, and the last thing he wanted was to come off as weak in front of his employees and friends. He politely excused himself from Kengo and Gio, and went out the back with Joanna, onward to a path that wrapped around the hill near the missionaries. Already bewildered at the day's turn of events, the two large men shyly slipped outside, mindful of the villagers and their innocent curiosity. At Brigette's recommendation, they stopped at a sago grove, shady with emerald leaves.

Neither of the two spellbreakers was very good at conversation, and it didn't help that the one language they both understood was not their native tongue. Kengo, wiping sweat from his brow, went first.

"The people are very friendly here," he said, regarding a fallen sago plant that had already been stripped of wood and pulp.

"People are friendly everywhere," Gio said. "It is just our traditions and customs that are different."

"Yes, this is true." Kengo had never pegged Gio as the philosophical type. "Families are different too. And somewhat the same. Poor Buck. I never knew how hard it was for him."

"He is boss," Gio said. "He cannot show his true self. Plus, he is Colt's son. You know what it's like for the whole family to have expectations and give you the big pressures."

Kengo blinked. "Yes. I am Japanese."

"And I am Italian," Gio said, with a wink. "See? You are right. Families are very similar."

Through the treeline, Kengo saw a free villagers working hard on crushing the sago piths into starch to be boiled and eaten. "It must be a hard life, having to grow and make food every day. Even though the people are nice and kind here, and they make beautiful carvings and things, it would be so much better if they did not need to worry about food so much."

"Yeah. It is hard. Travelling the world; you realize how lucky we are where we were born. It is so random. We do not choose this life we are born into. Glyph or no glyph. Rich or poor...."

"Gio, you have plant magick, yes? Why do plant magi not just grow food really quickly for everyone?"

Gio sighed. "It's not that simple, my big friend. Even the best plant magi who can grow a tree in seconds...that tree will die really quickly. Magick is...weird. It is not...how would you say this...always perfectly in tune with nature. Some plant magi can put their energy into the land, though, a little bit at a time. It's a long process. I would have to stay here with these people for awhile to be able to grow anything they could actually eat. And it would shorten my life span too." 

Kengo nodded, sadly. "The law of magick. Everything is an exchange. Even Spike had to get beat up and go through pain to use his powers."

Gio laughed. "Yes, but the difference is I think he likes it."

"Mmm. I wish magick could solve all the problems of the world."  

"Me tool, my large friend. Me too."

Beyond the fields, in the tranquil shadows of the hillside trees, Buck walked alongside his mother. Not much had changed between them, really--she had always taken him on hikes and little day trips out of the house. Though now, with the wisdom of age and experience, Buck wondered if that was all just to put distance between them and his father.

"I still have that picture you did when you were in pre-school," Joanna said merrily. "The sponge paint one with the apple."

Buck grimaced. "Ugh, the teacher did the outline. I just did the sponge paint part."

"Well, I think it's impressive!"

"...Most of it was outside the lines."

"Always color outside the lines, Buck," Joanna said, brushing back a palm frond. "That's one thing your daddy and I could always agree on." 

The birdsong filled in the gaps in the silence as they walked alongside the mission fenceline.

"If I can be honest," Joanna said, suddenly, "I'm so damn glad you were born without a glyph."

Buck couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What? Really?" It was like being told you were born with a slightly lower IQ than average.

"You know less than 30% of the population has glyphs," Joanna said. "And statistics are showing that number decrease. Why do you think the world has changed so much? We Bereft--and don't let me catch you repeating that word, Buck Tamberly--had so little power because the minority ruled us with magick. World has changed a great deal since the War. Now, don't let that make you think all magi in power are controlling and evil. That school of thought, on any side, is what leads people to war in the first place. But don't go thinking a lack of magick means you're not special. I mean, hell, look at ya!"

"I'm an artist who works out," Buck laughed. "Still...I feel like...I'm always compensating for something."

Joanna frowned. "Or...someone." She sighed. "When you were first born, I thought, 'Thank Goddess...he can't follow in his daddy's footsteps." She rolled her eyes, with a smile. "Of course, you did that thing where you do the exact opposite of what I want. But...truthfully speaking, I'm glad you did. I saw how those big men back there look at you. Natural born leader." She ruffled his hair. "That's my Buck."

"Aw, ma." This was embarrassing on multiple levels, mostly because Buck felt like breaking out into tears every five seconds. This reunion had been a long time coming.

"Can I ask...was dad really pissed when he found out I didn't have a glyph?"

Joanan looked away, into the dark of the forest. "Oh darlin', I don't want to talk ill of your dad. I washed my hands of him along time ago and I don't want--"

"It's okay," Buckl said. "Look, you can't say anything about him that will make my opinion of him worse, I promise you that."

She laughed, sardonically. "With Colton Tamberly, you'd be surprised." After a few seconds of deep thought, Joanna spoke, and carefully at that. "He...wasn't upset because you didn't have a glyph. Sure, he wanted to raise a spellbreaking dynasty...or whatever stupid, patriarchal legacy he had planned out for you. No, he was upset because he knew people would always try to compare you to him." She shrugged. "He wanted you to be your own man. Probably because your grandpa, Ox--piece of work he was--always had your dad under his thumb." 

Buck's father didn't speak of his father that much, and rarely with a kind word. Growing up, Buck thought it polite not to think much of it, and respect his father's feelings. Now? He was beginning to wonder how much his grandfather's sullied touch had trickled down the family tree. An ironic thought, too, for a man who could summon the rains...

Joanna continued. "Now, I reckon the downside to that is he wanted you to be spectacular in whatever it was you did, and he had his own exact overly-controlling mind on what they should like or how you should go about it."

"Wow, when you hit the nail on the head..."

Clear eyed, Joanna looked dead ahead. "Your father's sins are lay not in abuse or scorn, they lay in negligence and callousness." 

No spell could ever be as potent as a proclamation like that, Buck thought.

"I think he always assumed another kid--a brother--would inherit a glyph and take up his mantle." Joanna shook her head. "But I didn't want another kid, and one of the decent things about your dad is that he would have never pushed me to have another. I'm glad for that. That 'heir and spare' mentality would have done all of us a whole lot worse."

"Dad wouldn't think like that, would he?"

Joanna chose her words carefully. "I think...as with most of your father's vices...he doesn't do malice deliberately."

Buck had heard enough, and not wanting to indirectly follow in his dad's ways and center himself in these conversations, he directed his energy at his mother instead. Taking her hand, he asked, "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you happy?"

"Oh, Goddess yes."

"You said that quickly!"

"Because it's the Lady's truth!" She laughed. "Look at this place. I love this world. I love these people. What I do is fulfilling. It wasn't just your dad that got me down. It was your other grandpa--sorry kid, you didn't get good grandfathers--and the whole town. He wanted me to be a beauty queen. A trophy kept by a man who could provide for me. A bird in a gilded cage. Well, honey, beauty fades..."

Buck smiled. "On you it hasn't."

He hadn't seen his cool-headed mother blush in a long time. She put her arm around him. "My sweet Buck. Geez. I wish I could...spend more time or something. Look, I know I was never the best mom..."

"I mean, if you talk half the qualities of you and dad and put them together, that's at least one decent, functioning parent."

Joanna stared at him. Then, she burst out laughing. "You scamp. Look, I know you need to move on. I..." her voice caught in her throat. "Oh, Lady. I have a lot of things I'd still like to s--"

"It's okay," Buck said, trying his best not to lost it. He smiled at his mother. "Me too."

To Be Continued

Chapter 7: When in Rome

The Roman colosseum was a breath-taking structure that, despite centuries of erosion, remained imposing in ancient grandeur. Or at least, so Spike though as he found himself briefly splayed across Titan's shoulders--enough time to admire the ancient world before he was thrown down, full throttle, into the arena dirt.

The cheer of the crowd woke him up. The soma did the rest, mostly saving him from his skull and spine turning into dust. The next thing he saw was Titan, flexing victoriously for the the audience. Of course, it was the flexing that had thrown Spike off his game to begin with. Had Gio not bounced his pecs hypnotically at the last second, Spike would have had this in the bag. Or so he thought.

Gio reached down to lift him up, nearly single-handed. "We are gracious winners in Italy," he said. Spike's heart melted. "Everyone, do a big yell for my little friend, Sailorboy Spike!"

The raucous Romans, emulating their ancestors, got to their feet in applause. Spike, sheepish, and a bit ego-bruised aside (everything else bruised too) put on a brave face and waved back. 

"Now you are my trophy" Gio laughed, picking Spike up like he weighed nothing, and slinging him over his shoulder. "Hahaha!"

"Hey," Spike giggled. "Where are you taking me, ya big, sexy lug?!"

The audience ate it up. A battle of the babyfaces was always a palette refresher. The hometown boy won, the foreigner was magnanimous in defeat, and the chemistry between them was remarkable. What wasn't there to love?

"Let the audience use the imagination," Gio said. He was a warm soul. Thank goodness he wasn't a heel, or Spike might found himself head first in the dirt again!

Back in the locker room, Gio quickly stripped off his gear. "Such a disappointment we cannot wrestle like they used to do here," he lamented. "Too much clothing."

Red-faced, Spike turned away--after sneaking a solid peek, anyways. "G-man, your muscles are what won you that match. If you and I had been naked, it would have gone a whole other way."

"What do you mean?" Gio said, innocently. Behind him, the eyes of his fellow peers nearly popped out of their sockets, getting a good look at the Titan's...titanic proportions.

Spike scratched the back of his neck. "Never mind, bud."

Gio was good at the actual spellbreaking component of the sport, but quite honestly terrible at everything else; a constant headache for Colt. Always the showman, the cowboy king had tried to inject some heat into Spike and Gio's upcoming bout. Spike was just happy to not be under the stress of chasing down dubious objects or fighting with with the supernatural, so he gladly put all of his scrappy, babyface energy into his promos. Colt billed the fight as a contest to see who was 'The Strongest Man in the World', pitting Spike's super strength against Gio's Earth-magick enhanced muscle power.

Spike, a natural, killed his spots with signature style: he was respectful, but cocky, and took every chance to flex his biceps and preen for the camera. "I hope all you cute Italian guys out there won't be too mad with me when I beat your boy!"

Gio, however was clueless in front of a camera. Though he was once a B-movie muscle man star, he had a script and could play a character, As a spellbreaker, he saw himself as...well, himself, despite Colt's insistence on 'coming up' with a character. The primitive jungle man gimmick was too ridiculous for him to do convincingly, and he didn't know how to 'act like a heroic god' for the camera (let alone look directly into one). Spike found himself in the hilarious awkward position of coaching his opponent on how the art of heat.

"But Spike! I do not want to be mean to you. We settle this fight like men, in the arena, not by saying bad words to each other!"

"No, Gio, it's okay--we both know we like each other, but the audience doesn't know that. You can call me a pipsqueek. I promise it won't hurt my feelings."

"But you are very strong! And too nice. I have seen you're fighting, and I would never be so arrogant to think I could just squash you! Even though I probably will..."

"Yes! More of that! Now, we just gotta' get it on camera..."

Now the struggle today was trying not to convince Gio to join him in the shower. Spike dried himself off, trying to ignore the chatter from the Italian muscle hunk spellbreakers behind him. 

"Ugh, I feel like I'm so out of place here," he sighed. He turned his back on them.

They gasped, eyes zeroing in on Spike's hindquarters. Making the sign of the goddess on their chests, the blushing men covered themselves up with towels and quickly left the room, nearly bumping into Gio (sadly, clothed now) as he walked in.

"Spike, Colt wants us to meet in the Villa Panfini to discuss..." he lowered his voice, "the secret matters."

The Chalices, Spike thought, grimly. He had enjoyed his little vacation away from hunting down artefacts and the stress that came with the operation. If he had thought spellbreaking would involve a part time reconnaissance gig with an international peace-keeping organization, he might have given this career a second thought.

Gio sighed, taking a seat on the bench as Spike put on his underwear. Gio was such a natural with nudity (Kengo's complete opposite) that Spike didn't even feel sexualized around him, which was an unusual comfort. 

"Well, big guy. Lots of cute guys here. Lots of cute girls too. I don't really hear you talk about romance. A sexy, giant guy like you...the men must throw themselves at ya!"

Gio blinked. "Of course they throw themselves at me. We are fighters. You ever get tope suicida'd by El Amante? But no. I am not good with the romance. I do not know when people like me, and I do not know what to say to them when they spell it out. People are hard to understand, outside a fight. That is why I like wrestling. It is an easier conversation."

Spike nodded. He knew Gio was atypical. "Nobody you have a crush on?"

Gio smiled. "Everyone have a crush on Spike, eh? But...to tell truth. Er...yes." He blushed. "I may not tell you now. Over drinks, maybe. Let me just say...I like other plant magi like me."

Spike cocked his head to the side, in thought, but before he could tabulate the information, Gio stood up and stretched.

"I tell you this, but keep it a secret. I am not sure I actually want to do the spellbreaking for much longer."

"What!? But buddy, you could be the next champion!"

"Mmm. But it is so much camera work and acting and socializing. Too much pressure. Joseph do it well because he is a man of the people. I just want to wrestle handsome men, and that be that. All of this work..." he made a hand gesture that Spike assumed meant 'meh' or 'over it'. "But my family thinks I will go back to the farm and make us a famous winery again. I do love wine and farming, true, but it is not what I want to do. But my nona..." he winced. "She tells me all the time I should stop spellbreaking before I get hurt."

"Oh, your grandma? Will I meet her while we're here?"

He swallowed. "I hope not. But...you will stay at my cousin's big apartment, with me. You have been very nice to me the last few weeks and I trust you the most while I am here. It is...strange to come home. Rome is not my city. I am country boy. Hahaha. Like Buck! But I need a...hmmm...I need someone to be like a shield for my family. Does that make sense?"

Spike laughed. "You want me to be the conversation buffer, huh, big guy?"

"Yes! You are very outgoing and talkative. You can protect me from my family." He bit his lip. "Except...nona. That, you must let me take care of. If she shows up." He looked at him, darkly. "And you will know when she does." 

Spike felt his spine turn to ice. He shivered, put on his 'nice, visiting-another-country clothes' (a polyester blazer and some tailored pants) and followed Gio back into the colosseum's modern annex. Spellbreakers mingled with each other backstage. Spike noted Italian fighters (who were mostly men) were more inclined to invite their groupies backstage, creating a chaotic mess of fawning women and hunky, hairy men. Spike thought Gio must be in heaven, but he looked distracted. Ever since he'd come back home, the jovial giant was more sullen. 

Even Spike, slow on the uptake, noticed a pattern here on the world tour. El Amante in Mexico. Cian in Ireland. Now, Gio in Italy. Returning to 'where it all began' was hardly a comfort to any of them. All of these guys had mixed feelings about their homes. Spike guessed he was probably the same, save for the lack of intimate ties to New York. He had no family. there. No lovers (well, no official lovers). He did, however, wonder how Varla and the old crew were doing. Buck had mentioned something about Varla, Spike's first manager, possibly showing up along the tournament. It might be good to see her again, he thought.

As Spike's mind wandered into the past, a dreamy perfume filled his nose, impactful enough that he immediately turned his head towards the source direction. He blinked. Was this magick or just a really good aroma? Standing a few ways away, a voluptuous woman in a dark dress and darker sunglasses smiled at him. Overcome with bashfulness, Spike broke eye contact. Pretty men made him bold. Pretty women, in the other hand, always made him nervous. 

"Oh, curse it all!"

Spike's attention was snatched by a small, boyish voice a few paces ahead of him. He looked over just in time to see a small boy with shaggy hair tumbled over his own feet. He landed with a thud on the stone floor, and the expensive camera around his neck followed. 

Behind him, larger spellbreakers pointed and laughed. "Nice landing, kid!"

"HEY!" Gio growled, stepping towards them. They all averted their eyes and fled. "Hey, Lucio! I thought I heard you. Still tripping over your own two feet, eh?"

The gentle giant helped the very small boy (dressed in expensive clothing, Spike thought) off the ground. The lad dusted off his knees, made sure his camera was still intact, before he looked up at Gio and gave the man a gap-toothed grin. "Thanks, Big Gio."

Spike was immediately charmed. "Oh, he's adorable!"

"Little Lucio," Gio said, making sure the boy was alright. "I'm glad you're safe. Hey, this is my friend, Spike. I'll introduce you."

The boy's eyes went starry. "Wowww...Sailorboy Spike! You're probably my favorite American spellbreaker! I mean, you aren't as good as Gio, but that's okay--nobody is!"

"Thanks," Spike said, striking his signature pose for his young fan. "I think?"

"Lucio is an enterprising photographer for spellbreaking," Gio explained. "His photos are actually really good! He is...what is the word...a prodigy."

Spike thought the little runt reminded himself of...well...himself. "Did you enjoy the match!"

"I did! You really gave it your all, Spike. Well, until Gio squashed you. But that's okay. As long as you aren't fighting him, you'll definitely win next time! Hey, if you don't mind, can I snap a photo of you two?"

I have a fan. Trying to hold back his emotions, Spike yanked Gio so hard over to him that the big guy nearly fell like his little friend. "Boy, would I! Come on, Gio. We gotta give this kid like seven of our coolest poses so he can show it off to his friends. Oh, and autographs! And we'll have Buck send him so merch too!"

After five minutes of photography, Lucio walked away a very happy fan. Spike no longer felt miserable over his defeat. "I love this, Gio! I could do this forever, really."

Gio bit his lip. "Er...sure. Yeah."

"Huh? Wasswrong?"

"Nothing." Gio smiled. "Lucio is a very nice boy. You are very good with fans and everything. I wish that I..." Gio trailed off. Thankfully, he put his large arm around Spike's neck and guide him out the door. "Come, little Spike. Time to show you la dolce vida."

*cue sexy accordion music*

---

Thanks to Gloria's ambiant mind magick, Spike was able to understand the local language. That didn't, however, help him with understanding the locals and their customs. The Italians spoke quickly and fiercely, with a mix of urgently needing to get somewhere fast, yet having absolutely nowhere to be. Old men watched construction crews (all roads may have led to Rome, but those roads were filled with potholes) and old women watched the street from their windows, like crows from their perches. Vespas zoomed past Spike as he followed Gio, whose pace was growing quicker and more nervous by the second.

"Gio, I thought you liked your family," Spike said as Gio punched the buttons on the intercom panel of a very nice apartment along the bustling Via dei Fori imperiali. "And also, wow, I didn't realize your family was seriously loaded. Kaching!"

The giant sighed. "It is my Aunt and Uncle. They worked with the government to get stolen antiques back during the war. The government bought them this apartment, and now my cousins moved in. It was all pretty shady, if you ask me. My family...they are nice. But they can be difficult."

"All families are," Spike said, cheerfully. "Well, so I hear. I wouldn't know, personally."

Gio smiled. "The GSA is your family, Spike. Many brothers and fathers."

"...More of an Alabama kind of family then, in my case..."

"Hmm. Well, I don't know much about the United States, but here, families are very loving and kind. Just..."

The intercom buzzed. "WHAT? WHAT? WHO THE HELL IS IT?"

Gio shoved his thumb on the speaker and growled. "Me, you fuckhaed. Now let me in."

Spike blinked. "Well...I definitely understand Italian now."

Gio winced as the door opened for them. "I forgot. Hey, do I sound like I make more sense, at least, with the mind glyph? I'm a pretty good study, but English was always tricky for me. Usually people think I'm slow on the uptake because I'm autistic, which is stupid of them. But it's even worse when they think I can't speak English."

Spike didn't want to insult Gio, but he did sound a lot more eloquent in his native tongue (translated into English inside Spike's brain). "Big guy, of all the studs in this fed, I promise that you always make the most sense."

At the top of the stairs, a peeled, painted door swung open revealing a weedier, scrawnier, clean shaven, and glasses sporting version of Gio. Spike was in shock!

The jittery man, the same age as his cousin, ushered them in as if Spike and Gio were seeking shelter from the plague. "In, in, come in. You." He pointed to Gio and made a rude gesture (or so Spike assumed) before brining Gio in for a tight hug. "Kisses. Kisses. Oh, you got bigger? I didn't think that was possible. You need to shave your beard, it's so scraggly. And who is this? Is this your boyfriend or your girlfriend?"

I am way out of my depth here. Spike grinned. "I'm Spike!"

"Come here, come here," Lorenzo said, kissing Spike's cheeks. "Good, very good, now get in, get in--TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES, WERE YOU RAISED IN A BARN! Do not answer that, cousin, I already know. You were. Nona would slap you up the side of the head so hard, your skull would land in San Marino. Now, the most important question...."

Lorenzo looked at Spike so hard in the eyes that Spike, who fought people for fun, suddenly felt very small.

"Did you eat?"

"No," Gio said, quick.

Lorenzo nodded. "Then you will help me." He ushered both men in towards a kitchen, which was half, welcoming chipped tile (garlic and cured meats hanging from the ceiling, of course, and half a mad scientist's laboratory. 

Spike identified the glass case of a soda shop joint, or ice cream parlor. Despite himself, his stomach growled. "Oh, sorry."

"NEVER APOLOGISE FOR HUNGER," Cousin Lorenzo shouted as he opened up the case, letting free a cool mist. He looked down into the case in the same way Spike had seen Dr. Frankenstein do to his monster in the old B movies. "Here we go. This...is my child. My life. My fate."

Spike gave Gio a sideways glance. "Is this...normal?"

"Yes," Gio said blankly. "This is just Cousin Lorenzo."

Using the daintiest plastic spoon Spike had ever seen, Lorenzo scooped up a small morsel of creamy, white gelato. "Here. Try this."

"Oh, thanks, but--"

"SPIKE!" Gio shouted, making him near jump out of his skin. He grabbed the boy and moved him into the kitchen. He spoke in a low, urgent whisper. "You NEVER refuse food here. Do you understand? Listen to Gio. Do everything I say and we will get through this. Okay? Eat everything offered to you. EVERYTHING. OR YOU WILL DIE."

Tears welled up in Spike's eyes. "Oh my Goddess, Italy is stressful."

"Good," Gio smiled. "Now...EAT THE GELATO."

"Yes, sir," Spike said, grabbing the spoon as if it was his life life and putting the dollop of frozen cream into his mouth. Gee, and I thought hot Italian men making me eat their cream would be more fun than this...

Gio nibbled on his. "So, this is your latest gelato?"

"Gio!" Lorenzo snapped as if he had just done something sacrilegious. He turned to his guest, with a maddened, red face. He looked like a mad wizard about to teach his apprentice the hidden magicks of the universe. "It is not JUST any gelato. You see, I am trying to get my gelato store off the ground. In order to do so, I need to be recognized by the Gelato Masters. And this...this creamy legend about to cross your pale, tasteless, American lips...is not just ANY flavor. It is the fior di latte--'the flower of the cream'--that which ALL gelato, is judged by. Simple in its essence, but complex in its flavor, the fior is like a good Italian wife. On the surface, she is humble and pure. Oh, but once you take her home, she charms and seduces your tongue with the rich wiles of a harlot. Do you taste the essence of it? Cream, churned from milk given to us by ancient cows bred in the hills of Tuscany since the time when Jove still made love in the shape of a swan. And those cows--who were rubbed with essential oils, I will have you know--were hand milked by virgins, under the light of the fullest moon. And then, ah, a dash of vanilla...procured from the markets of Madagascar. No treasure spared here. Men would kill for this, Spike, my precious little cannoli. Indeed, they have. You see...a gelato maker lives and dies by the fior di latte."

Spike nodded. "Yeah, it's...pretty good."

Lorenzo was crestfallen. He sunk to the ground. "GOOD? JUST GOOD!? Gio, I am ruined. Open the window, I throw myself--"

A knock at the door distracted Lorenzo, momentarily, from his self-destruction. "Hm?"

"I'll get it," Gio and Spike both said at the same time, pushing each other to get away from the kitchen as quickly as possible.

Spike got to the door first. "Buongiorno...?"

Posed with his arms folded, one leg up against the door frame, was another 'skinny' variant of Gio. This one, with a seductive five-o'clock shadow, slicked back hair, a toned build, and an expensive Armani suit. He blew Spike a kiss, throwing Spike off his feet and onto the floor.

"Ohhhh...." Spike moaned, cross-eyed. Only El Amante had the same effect.

"Cousin," the handsome man intoned, kissing Gio on both cheeks.

"Cousin Vincenzo," Gio said, with a sigh of relief. "Spike, this is my Cousin, Vinnie. He is a lot like you."

The charming Italian helped Spike off the ground, and then kissed his hand. Spike observed the expensive, gold watch hanging on his arm. Hell, Vincenzo even smelled expensive.

"Hello, and who are you, angel who peeled himself off the ceiling of a chapel and descended to Earth? Or is this a disguise of yours, blessed Eros, Son of Love, who has come to play cruel and mischievous tricks with my heart?"

"Ohhhh..." Spike melted like Lorenzo's amazing gelato. "You Italians have a way with words. Gio, has your cousin ever met Victor?" 

"Unless you want all of Rome to orgasm at once, and the Church to collapse, I suggest that meeting NEVER happen."

The handsome cousin's eyes went up from Spike towards the kitchen. "Why is Lorenzo crying and about to throw himself off the window."

"IGNORE ME AND MY FAILURE, COUSIN," Lorenzo shouted back, taking a long drag of a cigarette. "And I WASN'T doing anything so rash as that. I was taking a cigarette break and didn't want to smell up the kitchen. Speaking of which, did you eat?"

"Yes, about an hour ago."

"Okay, I'll make something." And just like that, Lorenzo was already head-deep in the fridge.

With greetings out of the way, Vincenzo straightened his suit and took a seat. "Dearest cousin, I did not actually come here to hit on your boyfriend--"

Gio's face reddened. He squeaked. "He is not my boyfriend--"

"I came here to talk to you about that little problem you spellbreakers are facing. Also, to make sure you are well. On the later, it appears you grew even taller since the last time. Or perhaps I have shrunk. Regardless, cousin, I think some wine is in order. Gio, I believe you know a good vintage?"

"Always," Gio said, reaching for the wine rack. "Lorenzo, you don't mind?"

"You insult my gelato and drink my wine? What else has changed. Use the Pinot Grigio, if you must. I don't care for the label."

Gio's family makes me tired, Spike thought, sitting at the table and trying to maintain a polite face. No wonder he's socially awkward. I would be too if I grew up here.

After sniffing and sipping the wine, Vincenzo got to business. "Spike, has Gio told you what I do?"

"Yeah, you're like an agent or manager for soccer?"

"In Italy, we say football, but I will forgive you because you an American and it cannot be helped. I do manage football, but I am also close with the spellbreaking leagues here in Italy. Compared to the US and Texas, they are very small, but it is easier to make...arrangements with them." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Gio dragged a frustrated hand across his own face. "Do not ask what that means, Spike."

Vincenzo snickered devilishly, as Lorenzo put a plate of ante pasta in front of him. 

"Is that gabagool?" Spike said, licking his lips.

Everyone else in the room groaned.

"What, is he Sicilian?" Vincenzo laughed. "Do you mean cappicolo? Geez, if I knew a Southerner was going to be here, I would have called for fumigation. My sweet little Botticelli angel, we pronounce all the vowels here in Rome. The dialects of Italy all formed around the tongue of the Tuscans during the unification. The Southerners, specifically those who fled to the United States, merely didn't get the memo. But I digress. Gio, as fate would have it, your old flame has offered us her help."

Spike, shovelling prosciutto into his mouth, turned to Gio. "Flame?" he asked, still chewing.

Gio pushed himself away from the table, and Spike thought he felt a the room tremble. "No. You do not mean..."

Knock knock knock

Spike looked to the door. "Wow, I didn't think knocking could sound so...flirtatious."

With a huge, shit-eating grin on his face, Vincenzo stood up and waltzed over towards the door. "That's her, probably."

"YOU INVITED HER HERE!?" Gio pulled his curly hair. "Lorenzo, open another window. I join you."

Suddenly, Spike zeroed in on a familiar aroma. Floral, bittersweet. Yes, this was the same scent from the colosseum! A feminine mist, to be sure (Spike knew the smell of men anywhere). Vincenzo opened the door. The woman who stood there, all curves and raven-hair, was like a living silhouette, a dangerous orchid. She could have walked from the set of a Fellini film. 

Her voice was low and smooth as polished leather. "Look at all these...handsome and pretty men." Her eyes landed on Spike.

Spike mirrored Vincenzo's devilish smile. He looked at Gio. "Oh, I get it. You dated a BADDIE."

Gio sighed. "The baddest. Spike, this is Francesca. Her spellbreaking name was...Belladonna. For her kiss is poison and she withers men's soul with her toxic touch."

Spike was obsessed. "Girl, same." He pulled a seat at the table for her.

"Fortunately," Gio said, embracing her, "I am immune."

"Such a liar," Belladonna purred. She kissed him on both cheeks. "My former rival. My former lover." She removed her gloves.

And then she slapped Gio across the cheek.

Lorenzo and Vincenzo both shot their arm out to Spike. "Italy," they reminded him.

"Woman," Gio growled. "You drag wickedness on your expensive high heels and pain on your painted lips! Hit me again. Harder."

So she did. And before long, Gio and Francesca were doing their best efforts at eating each's others faces.

"Oh, Gio," Francesca sighed. "My Titan."

"My goddess of the night. Corrupt me."

Awww it's just like me and Rage, Spike thought. Though, this was a bit more gratuitous. "Oh wow...uh...Lorenzo, Vincent? Should we leave?"

Vincenzo merely shrugged. "Francesca, did you eat?"

The woman tore herself off the giant, muscleman, pushing him away and readjusting her hair. "Yes."

"Okay," Vincenzo said, "I'll make more food."

Once Francesca was settled at the table, with another glass of wine in her hand, she motioned for Vincenzo to light her cigarette, placed delicately in her mouth. She pointed to Spike. "Sailorboy Spike. I admire your performance. You are very strong and charismatic. You are like the prettiest whore in the village."

Spike choked on his wine. "HEY!"

"In Italy, this is a compliment."

"Oh..."

"Mmm. I would enjoy stepping on you. But, priorities." The dark lady yawned. Gio, sitting across from her, resumed scowling and avoided her eye contact. "I shall make this brief. Recida Di Sangro is a duplicitous, snake of a woman, whose power and ambition knows no bounds. The bitch would cut her own grandmother just to get ahead! ...I love her. She funded my spellbreaking career early on and though I owe her a great debt, she crossed the line when she began supporting the Sons United." Francesca sighed, sorrowfully. "They killed my boyfriend, an anarchist."

This was enough to earn her some sympathy from her ex. Gio reached across the table to cover her hand with his. "Oh, Francesca, I am so sorry."

"No, it's okay; I was planning to do it myself. They robbed me of the privilege, and for that I would see them undone! And Recida kicked me to the curb when I told her I had no interest in helping her little alchemy freakshow. Without her patronage, I couldn't afford to keep up spellbreaking. So, I would see the bitch ROT." With this, Francesca banged her hand on the table, making everyone in the room jump.

"Also, she never gave me back the dress I leant her. What can I say? I am petty." Francesca reached into the folds of her ample cleavage and retrieved a small, rolled up piece of paper. She tossed it onto the table, and unfolded of its own accord. "Here. A map of the Palazzo Di Sangro, its entrances, and the locations of the vault and security system."

Spike and Gio leaned in. Neither of the two were equipped draftsman, or architects, but it certainly looked like a detailed floorplan.

The Sailorboy couldn't believe their luck. Tiger and John Henry are gonna be so proud! "Wow, just like that?"

Francesca stamped her cigarette out in a glass ashtray set in front of her. Somewhere outside, dogs were barking and people were yelling. "Just like that. There. Business concluded. Now, we can enjoy our evening."

By Spike's account, Gio didn't appear to be enjoying anything about this. Now that they had gotten the goods, it was probably for the best Spike make an excuse and retreat to their room for the night. Spike went to open his mouth, but the discordant sounds from the street had just intensified. Loud clangs and bangs accompanied a shout that Spike, his magickally enhanced brain trying to keep up with half-heard translations, processed as, "Oh no she has A SPOON!"

Eyes turned to the kitchen window, so at least Spike knew he wasn't hallucinating. "Hey, guys, what's that?"

Vincenzo, hovering over a pot of boiling water narrowed his eyes in confusion. They quickly widened into terror. "Oh...no."

Spike and Francesca were apparently the only two in the room who had no idea what was going on. Like dogs attuned to an earthquake minutes before it hits, the Di Toro boys stood on edge.

"Lorenzo," Gio shouted, "open the window again. We still have time to run!"

Now, Spike was genuinely afraid. "Guys, what is it? CAN WE FIGHT IT?"

The blood ran from Gio's face. "Spike. Choose your god and pray to them now. It's...her."

Now, recognition hit Francesca. She bolted up. "Oh no....I can't be here!"

"WHO IS IT!" Spike shouted.

Francesca's head turned towards him, slow, horror-movie like. "NONA."

As soon as she said that, the door threw itself open with a loud bang. A plume of dust and the scent of destruction rolled into the apartment. Squinting, Spike tried to make out the silhouette in the smog. He expected an eldritch horror. Instead, the person who hobbled out of the dust was none other than a tiny woman wearing a kerchief with a head covering. She looked impossibly ancient, her eyes hidden under folds and wrinkles.

In her hand was a long, wooden spoon.

"Do not move," Gio whispered to Spike. "Maybe she can't see us."

Suddenly, two orbs of red light shot out from the approximate location of Nona's eyes. The woman jumped into the air and SLAMMED her spoon down on the table. A moment passed, and then...a crack formed right down the middle.

Lorenzo was the first to speak up. With an exasperated sigh, he said, "But Nona, that is the fifth table you broke this year!"

The woman whipped her spoon towards him. "And it will be a sixth!" She marched forward, inspecting all the persons in the room. At last, she stood in front of Gio. "And the table not the only thing I'll break if my grandson gets hurt. YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Everyone: "Yes, Nona."

"Why isn't she translating completley?" Spike said to Gio outside the side of his mouth.

"I think she just might be that Italian that it...cancels it out?"

The atmosphere abruptly shifted. The terrifying woman smiled, full of yellowed teeth. "My sweet, precious GiGi."

Gio leaned down and wrapped his arms around the woman. "Nona. How I missed you!"

"I have put on the pasta," Lorenzo said to the woman.

"Ah, good grandsons." From Gio's embrace, she turned to Vincenzo. "Well, MOSTLY good." She let go, but not before holding Gio's face between her tiny hands (she still, somehow, retained her hold on the spoon). The coldness returned, as the woman glared in the direction of Francesca and Spike, their backs now against the wall.

"YOU! The pretty SLUT."

Francesca and Spike looked at each other. "Which one?"

Spike found himself staring down the barrel of the wooden spoon. "You. Blonde. Are you the boy who fight people in his underwear?"

"Er...yes?"

"Hmmm." She looked him up and down. "Much too skinny. Gio talk about you. He says you are nice." She smiled. "I can tell. A good heart."

With that, she punched Spike in the side of the arm. "Thanks!" he beamed. "And owww."

"BUT YOU!" Nona trained her spoon on Francesca. "You hurt my Gio and now your filthy claws dig into my sweet Vincenzo too!?" 

Both Vincenzo and Gio tried to intercede on her behalf. "Nona, please."

This woman is more powerful than any Spellbreaker! Spike feared taking her on in a fight.

After the tense moment had passed, everyone gathered around the (cracked) table to enjoy a helping of late night cacio e pepe. Lorenzo spooned some onto Spike's plate, explaining, "Despite what some may say, there is a place for American-Italian cuisine, provided it does not try to pass itself off as anything but! You see, Spike, real Italian food is actually very simple. I did hand-make the past, of course, because I am not a savage--however, the rest is Romano cheese and ground pepper."

Spike's taste buds were in Heaven. "It's like mac and cheese, but...better!"

Lorenzo winced. "Sure."

Food had somehow equalized everyone's emotions. Frencesca had moved on to canoodling with Vincenzo instead. Gio, remarkably comfortably with his grandmother, went on and on about his adventures (carefully excising the scary bits, Spike noticed). The old woman absorbed it like a proud, radiant sponge.

At last, she sighed. "GiGi. My poor, sweet, baby. You have seen so much of the world, but I am afraid for your safety and future. Come back to the farm where it is safe. If your mother and father in Heaven could only see their baby boy...brawling with near naked men in the pits instead of leading the humble life of a gardener!"

Vincenzo was quick to jump in. Spike could easily tell that he was the one to intercede on Gio's behalf when they had been growing up. "Nona, Gio wants to be a spellbreaker! He will be the champion!"

Gio gulped. "Vincenzo..."

"NO!" Nona shot back, making everyone in the room flinch. "He will come back and tend to the farm and lead the Di Toro vineyard to excellence. With his green touch, our grapes will be the envy of all Italy. The fascists will take one sip of our wine, weep, and lay down their swords." Nona wiped the corner of her eye with a loose piece of her headscarf. "Oh, what is to become of this country! It is happening again. Blood and tears will flood this blessed land of our ancestors."

Spike felt for her. He knew enough about the war (and what happened to his parents) that Italy suffered some of the worst of it. He wondered if he should interject.

Vincenzo got their first. Of everyone in the room, he was the bravest to challenge the old woman. "Nona, you must listen! I helped Gio become a spellbreaker and he will become the best spellbreaker that Italy--no--the WORLD has ever seen."

Now, Gio was truly uncomfortable. He tried for diplomacy. "Nona. Vincenzo. Please. I just wanted a peaceful, family dinner." 

"This is like all our family dinner's, though," Lorenzo said.

"Yes! And I was hoping it would be different." Gio's voice shook. Normally calm, collected, and quiet, this side of Gio was alien to Spike. He didn't like seeing him upset. It was like watching a giant, oversized pitbull whimper. 

Vincenzo and Nona went at it, shouting from either side of the table, gesticulating with hand motions Spike could only assume meant 'very aggressive'. At a certain point, Frencesca, without looking, handed Spike the entire wine bottle, and the sailor went about drinking it directly from the source.

It was not a shout, but a low rumble, quickly divulging into a full on tremor, that silence the room. Spike had felt it before. A trace of magick. "Gio!"

The Titant stood over all, one eye glowing orange, the other, green. "EVERYONE STOP!"

Short of the china tumbling off the shelves, the apartment stopped shaking. Everyone, Nona included, stared meekly at the giant.

His eyes resumed their normal, gentle, hazel liquidity. Embarrassed, and voice cracking, Gio pleaded with his family. "I do not want to be a farmer, Nona. And I do not want to be a champion, Vinnie. Everyone thinks just because I am strong and have a mind that works differently than most people, that I am some kind of...I don't know...god. 'Titan' is just a nickname. I am very mortal." He shrugged. "I am just Gio. I just want to be myself and do what I love. Why is that so hard to understand?"

Eyes turned downcast, to empty plates and empty wine glasses. Spike alone found his voice. "Gio. Buddy. It sounds like you have a lot of pressure. I think you have already made your family proud! But that doesn't matter...."

"SAYS WHO?" Nona quipped, violently.

"Eeep! What matters is that you do what you love and know that people support you." Spike looked at the others, even Nona. "I think your family understands that, yes?" I'm about to have my head split in two by a wooden spoon...

Nona stared death into everyone. Finally, she relented. "Well, rip my heart out and throw it into the Trevi Fountain why don't you! But...I suppose you must follow your own path. Nona can no longer protect you. Just...please be safe, my grandson."

Spike looked to Gio. "So, probably don't tell her about the hei-"

Gio clamped his giant hand over Spike's mouth. "Yes, Nona, thank you." Contented, he smiled, and resumed his seat. "I love you. I love my family. Now, dessert. I think, Lorenzo, we would like to try your fior de latte."

Lorenzo bot his lip; a wary eye on Nona. "Are...you sure?"

After a few minutes, everyone had a small bowl of white gelato in front of them. As Nona took a spoonful, her hand tremoring with age, Gio whispered to Spike. "I sense miracles in the air tonight, Spike."

Lorenzo leaned forward, with anticipation. "Well...?"

The old woman wore a neutral expression. "Hmmm..." Then she smiled. "A pinch of salt, and this is perfect."

Lorenzo promptly burst into tears of joy. "That's...the nicest thing you have ever said!"

Gio was relieved. "Spike, I should bring you to all family dinners. You are a good luck charm."

Finally, Vincenzo and Francesco stood up. "Francesca and I are going to hit the bars." Have fun storming the castle!"

Belladonna blew kissed at Gio with her eyelashes. "Ciao, Gio."

"She-Devil!" Nona hissed as they left the apartment.

With only the four of them left, Lorenzo began to clear plates. He stopped at Spike, stared him in the face, and then proclaimed to the room, "Ah, he is Italian."

Spike was confused. "No, I just like eating and sex. I actually don't really know what I am. I think my dad was Irish because of the last name..." He quickly nodded to Gio, "Don't tell Cian, I'll never hear the end of it. But as for my mom? Not sure. I just have one photo of her that the orphanage held onto, and it's not even a very good one." 

Nona touched Spike's head. He froze. "Hmmm...blonde hair, yes. But your father was a healer, you say? Bah. But healers are always pale with light hair."

"That's true," Spike added. "John Henry's wife, Sandra, has to dye her hair otherwise she's platinum. Oh, she'd kill me if she knew I said that."

Lorenzo pressed his finger to his chin. "Well, I still think he's Italian."

Maybe it was the family setting, or the topic at hand, but Spike felt weirdly introspective now. "I don't really know much about either of my parents, but...I know they passed on here in this country."

"Val D'Orcia," Gio said, softlt. "Same as mine. Do you want to go there and pay respects?"

"Not really. I am not good with sad things. I prefer not to think about it."

Shocking Spike most of all, it was Nona who placed her hand over his. "My beautiful child, if you do not face this grief, it will fester inside you, like a rot."

Spike felt a pang inside his heart. He would rather fight this woman than be sad in front of her.

She went on, tenderly. "Our family, Spike, has lost many good people to war, to disease, to accident. Though you are far from your home country, here you are not alone."

Spike's eyes welled up with tears. "Thank you. I never had a grandma I knew. So...that's nice."

She gave him a toothy smile. "I like you, Spike. You nice, simple boy."

Then, she punched him in the arm.

"Thanks," Spike said. "Owwww."

"She hit you if she like you," Gio added.

"And what does she do when she doesn't?"

"You don't wanna know..."

To Be Continued