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 7: The Calm Before

Squeezed into a hotel suite somewhere in Cancun (with the AC running high to accommodate) the GSA roster huddled around Colt, standing at the front of the room. The atmosphere was decidedly funerary, though that had been the predominant mood since the gang had arrived in Mexico about a week earlier. Considering that one of their own was missing, and not in their right state of mine, with another of their ranks was in hospital, the situation was bleak.

Even Colt, a tall, strapping, bastion of enthusiasm, spoke softly, with a sadness in his eyes seldom seen by his students and employees. He considered his words, for a time, before addressing the listless audience. With Mr. Iron at this side to fill in the details, he spoke candidly about what had happened. Nobody bat an eye at the fact that a good portion of their contingency had been involved in a clandestine affair to secure an ancient artefact of immeasurable power. Typical, really. Spellbreakers were impulsive by nature and predisposed to adventure. Though some in the room rightfully expressed annoyance at all of this information having been kept secret from them for some time now.

Standing before a framed portrait of a Mayan calendar, the head of the GSA decided on an end to secrecy. "We were too damn reckless," he said, exhausted, concluding his proclamation. "I owe you all a huge apology."

Powerful men and women exchanged worried looks. On the couch, Rosa sat pale, flanked by friends Ice Princess and Calypso. Spike, standing behind her, draped his arms gently across her shoulders in a half-embrace. Stone faced, she stared ahead. Rosa had not uttered a word this whole time. 

Until now. "Colt...don't blame yourself." She had already done her fair share of crying earlier. It was time to woman up. "I should have been there."

"You saved my-" Colt started. He looked over at Buck, positioned away from the rest of the gang, legs tucked to chest in the window alcove. He wouldn't even look at his father. "As fed president, I have a duty of care. All of you kids are under my protection. Now, one gone. The other hurt." He sighed and acknowledged Mr. Iron. "What's Iggy's status, by the by?"

The huge man looked beyond tired. Spike had never seen his old coach so defeated. In a chair that could barely contain his mass, the giant crossed his legs. "They should pull through, but they're going to be out of commission for awhile. Who knows if they'll ever--"

"Don't finish that sentence," Spike said, quietly, with a vibrato in his unsure voice. Rosa reached up and placed her hand on his forearm, with affection. Assurance. "They'll be back. I know it. I know my teach."

Colt nodded. "Rosa. I owe you an--"

"No," she said, cutting him off. "Just...no. Thank you. We're going to get Victor back. Even if I have to do it myself."

"And we will help," Kengo, by the door (the most logical place where he could fit) said, with absolute certainty. Cian, next to him, held up his fist in solidarity.

Standing at the back of the room, arms folded tightly to his chest, Joseph in his white shirt and black dress pants cast a cool aura. He scanned the room, silent. Goddess knows what he thought, but he looked serious.

Colt continued. "So, now y'all know the score. This isn't just a global tournament anymore. This is something much bigger. The good folks of Aradia are partnering up with us to- 

Calypso raised her hand, her seashell bracelet dangling off her wrist. "Aradia?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Finally, the champion, Joseph, took the lead. "They function similarly to the United Nations. Or, I suppose, more like INTERPOL. They work with governments to secure magickal threats. They are supposed to be neutral but..."

"They helped with the reconstruction of my old village," Cian mumbled. "After the war. Not that I remember much about it. I don't trust many, but if Miss Lily is working with them, then they're at least half-decent."

"Except for the part where they nearly got Iggy killed," Sanjay, standing next to Blue Dragon, shot back. "They're just like any other big, government body. Suits at the top dictating assignments to the little guys at the bottom. Why the hell are we working with them?"

"Because we need authority and legitimacy at our backs," Mr. Iron said, patiently. "Put it into perspective."

"Oh yeah," Icewolf piped up. "It would sorta be like if the Calgary Flames were asked to run reconnaissance by the government, eh? I mean, at the end of the day, we're just sports players with glyphs, huh..."

"Salim is involved with them too," Mr. Iron said. "I wouldn't agree to come back if I didn't vet them."

Sanjay lowered his tone, but the suspicion remained. "And can even we trust Salim? Giant guy with a dubious business dealing who only shows up to fancy parties?"

He had a point. Colt shuffled his stance, uncomfortable. "Well, I'll just say this. When I look at this room, I see the world. I know it sounds rich coming from an old fogie from Texas, but one of our key strengths is we're an international bunch. Different faiths. Different backgrounds. We're the best equipped to deal with a global issue. That being said, if any of you wants to duck out and focus on the tournament, I won't fault you. No shame. No judgment. No pressure. This is tough stuff. I'll turn my back, and y'all can leave the room."

With a heart heavy, Colt 'The Bolt', turned around and faced the stone calendar. He was struck by the irony, that this stone artefact should outlast the civilization that had wrought it to measure centuries that they would never see. It made him uneasy. He was just some guy, some schmuck that had gotten famous for being loud and violent and handsome. Now? He had responsibilities, no longer solely to his employees, his kids, but possibly to something much larger. And the worst part of it was that he was required to maintain a brave face the whole time...

A moment passed, but the sound of an opening door, of people quietly taking leave, did not come. Confused, Colt peered over his shoulder. "Uh...I said, if any of you were uncomfortable..."

Ice Princess, the blonde, Scandinavian woman with severe eyes on Rosa's right, stood. She rarely spoke, so it was unusual to hear her voice. But it was clear and resonant. "We are uncomfortable, she said. "But we're not leaving."

Sitting cross legged on the loveseat next to her, her masculine counterpart, Icewolf, jumped up theatrically. "And Ice WOLF too!" He pointed heroically at Colt. "Listen here, Mr. Tamberly. My Lady is right. I may have only just gotten onto this roster for reals, but do you think I'm gonna wuss out on you guys?"

Next to him, Princess (an old friend) rolled her eyes mirthfully. "Robbie, we get-"

The boastful jock continued. "Divine Chalices? Firebird? Los Venoms? BRING 'EM ON! I'll CRUSH 'EM ALL!"

For a moment, there was levity. A few smiles. Even Cian, a mix of confused and entertained, met Robbie's eyes for a moment. The muscular Canadian promptly turned red and looked askance. "Aw shucks, he's looking my way..."

Cian took up the reigns. "Mr. Colt. I understand these Chalices are important, but what about El Amante? He's our big brother. Rosa's kin. I understand that I'm still suspended, so sorry if this sounds daft, but I don't give a toss about the competition anymore. I just wanna get our big guy back."

Spike looked over at Cian, surprised to hear him speak with such confidence. Even Buck, from his hiding spot, cocked his head to the side to listen.

Before Colt could address the Irish lad, the phone in the other room's desk nook began ringing.

Rosa was happy to get off the couch, gently brushing Spike's hands off her. "I'll get it," she said, with a profoundly deep breath. He peers assumed she had been waiting for news about her cousin's whereabouts. 

Colt took the moment to fill his kids in further. With her briefly indisposed, he felt more comfortable letting them in on the harsh truth of the matter. "So, here's what we do know, and it's all very simple. That bastard Serpent is using Victor as a bargaining chip. I have a score to settle with that snake. In a week, we go down to Bolivia. Serpent and I have agreed to a Last Man Standing. No ring. Right on the salt flats."

While than sank in with the other, Buck finally awakened. He pivoted around from the alcove and gave his head a cold, glance of death. "Dad, that's insane! You just came out of retirement."

Colt challenged his son right back, and grunted. "So? Boy, you ain't seen what your daddy can do! Besides, it's time I reminded y'all who used to the champion around here."

No point in arguing. Buck had learned these lessons long ago. He leaned back against the window and shook his head, shifting the tension in the room from dour to awkward.

Biting his lip, Spike looked to Joseph, the only person in the room with enough common sense and pull besides Mr. Iron to diffuse a situation like this. Joseph flashed a smile at Spike. I got this, kid.

He spoke like the leader he was. "From one champion to another, I will do anything in my power to rescue our comrade. I must admit to you all, that I feel as I should have been there at Chichen Itza instead of defending my title. This would have never happened."

That his statement came off more as a boast...well, it landed flat. Even Spike cringed at the delivery. Everyone was off their game, just a little bit. Los Venoms had really dealt a blow.

Colt did his best to take back control of the narrative. "Look, folks, we can spend a whole time on the coulda-woulda-shoulda's, but it ain't gonna get us nowhere. Serpent wants the Chalice. We ain't gonna give it to him."

Spike leaned against the couch and mustered his courage. "Even if it means we don't get Victor back?"

Several people in the room flinched. Of all the spellbreakers in attendance, nobody expected Spike, still a bit wet behind the ears, and a great admirer of Colt, besides, to question his authority. To his credit, Colt didn't snap. He looked more taken aback.

Before he could reply, however, Rosa appeared, phone and chord in her hand. She placed the device on the table. "It's Lily. She wants to be put on speaker. Says she thinks she knows what happened to Viki."

Colt nodded. "Put her on. Hey, Lil. You're a sound for sore ears."

Through static, Lily Suarez, the GSA's magick expert and "woman on the inside" came out clear enough. "Always one with a turn of phrase, aren't you? I understand spirits may be down, so please accept my fondest regards. I want to help. Thanks to the Institute's research wing...as well as several cups of espressos...I found the artefact in question that put that curse on Victor.

"Sounds like it was the Obsidian Tablet. Not the most creative name, I know. Infamous in dark magick circles. Seldom seen this side of history. It was a tablet crafted from a civilization that used dark magick to enchant its warriors into an insatiable bloodlust, filling their hearts with hate. Unfortunately, there was no way to quench their need for destruction, and they eventually turned on both the innocent and each other, wiping out their civilization entirely. During the pillaging of the New World, it was retrieved and sent to Spanish Alban, where it supposedly slew the court when attempts were made to use it, triggering the War of Succession."

Rosa, having taken a seat next to Buck, watched in amusement as Spike tried to correlate all this information inside his blond, curly head. "Thanks, Lil," she said, with a wry smile. It had been awhile since she'd felt anything other than sorrow, but she wasn't surprised that Spike had managed to coerce it out of her. "Some of us aren't as literate in magi history as you are, so we'll try and fill in the gaps for those of us who might need more help."

Surprising nobody, Mr. Iron was the first one to ask the right follow-up questions. "Miss Suarez, if I may...how the hell did something like this end up in the hands of Los Venoms?"

"Because of who is likely financing Firebird," the voice on the phone said. "The Black Library, part of the Russian secret service."

Spike blinked. "What the hell is a Black Library?" He was speaking on behalf of several in the room who were not as comfortable with their own idiocy as him.

Lily took charge of exposition. "A legend, though not so mythic anymore, it would seem. Supposedly founded by Ivan the Terrible, the Black Library was a collection of books--by no means extensive, but extremely dangerous. It was given to him by a Greek scholar and former priest said to be fleeing persecution, but a good majority of the collection were remnants of the Deep Archive of Alexandria. These are infamous, dangerous, artefacts.

"In practice, the Black Library is a research and development wing of the Russian secret services. To Aradia's knowledge, they have never actually used the contents of their forbidden archives until now. Not even during the Great War. To put it into perspective, Ivan himself had the library sealed upon his death, he feared it so much. When it was accidentally discovered during renovations on the Kremlin, Catherine the Great swore her builders to secrecy under penalty of death and had it re-sealed. That two of the greatest Russian monarchs of history forbade its use should clue you into just what we're dealing with here."

Colt placed his hand to his chin. "But apparently it's good enough for Nicky the Third..."

Lily acknowledge as much. "Russia is desperate, on the verge of a revolution long overdue. Firebird is making its moves now. If they have weapons like the Obsidian Tablet, thankfully destroyed, then Goddess knows what other tomes are at their disposal. The Library was a potential target of the Albans during their conquest of Europe. Though they never succeeded, a dossier was compiled speculating what else lurked in the Black collection. Nothing good."

Several faces in the room drained of color. Many of them had grown up with knowledge of glyphs and their proper applications. Most of them were aware of what the Albans had done to magi and non-magi alike during the Great War. But few, save for the likes Gio, Cian, and Kengo--all raised in faiths outside the Church--had experienced 'the old magick' before. It was dangerous stuff. There was a reason why a good lot of it was meant to be sealed away.

Colt did not share the same background, but he suspected the danger at hand nonetheless. "In other words, we ain't in the little leagues no more, y'all."

Rosa was content to hurry on to the point. "So, if Victor has been cursed by this tablet or whatever, is there any way for us to break the spell?"

"Yes," Lily said, with a confidence that elevated Rosa's spirit. "Though it will be difficult. He is currently gripped by an unquenchable blood lust. No doubt seeing what happened to Iggy was part of the trigger. To keep it brief, the enchantment appears to affect several regulatory parts of the body. Amygdala. Petitory. It effectively shuts out the chemicals that make us feel...well...happy, and pumps out stress hormones, overriding all reason. Fittingly, if he were to experience a break-through, or an overriding emotion, it might be enough to snap him out of his powerful rage. That's the one good thing about old magick. It's like a glass canon. Powerful, but easy to overcome. In theory, anyway..."

Colt nodded, satisfied. "Thanks, Lily. The Chalice is being held in a secret location. We'll make sure it gets to you in one piece."

"Thanks, Colt. You have Aradia's instructions for what to do next. Everyone else...please be safe."

Click.

Lily's sure and calm personality was like a much needed balm. Though Spike could tell everyone was still both shocked and confused (and perhaps, even in disbelief at the magnitude of what they were dealing with now), the collective sigh of relief was palpable.

No stranger to trauma, Spike always took the "get it done" approach to situations that called for action, which he found tended to surprise other people. That was the Navy in him. Lily had given them their orders. Colt was chain of command. But Spike was a grunt and it was his job to demand a full picture. 

Even Colt was surprised at how assertive he sounded. "What does this powerful rage look like? What do we know about El Amante right now?"

Colt bit his lip. He instructed Mr. Iron to turn on the hotel television, positioned in front of the bed. "Like this..."

The blurry static gave way to a equally grainy recording of a small arena fenced in by chain-link caging. The footage was jumpy, and it was hard to see in front of the throng of drunken, blood thirsty spectators, but Spike knew right away that what was watching was outside the normal bounds and safety restrictions of spellbreaking. This was a blood match. No soma. Just violence.

El Amante, or whatever he was now calling himself, wailed on a skinnier fighter in the corner of the cage. That was putting it lightly. He beat him mercilessly, a vacant stare the whole time. His chest and fists were covered in blood. Not his own. There was no sense of mercy, even as the ref tried to pull him off his broken, blooded opponent (victim was probably the better word). El Amante, not content with simple violence, wrapped his legs around his torso, squeezing down, while choking the poor soul's throat with his giant arms. Blood gushed, and the man's face turned blue. The ref was helpless to pull El Amante off him. Eventually, others stormed the ring, but El Amante tossed them aside like flies, each other receiving a different bone-breaking move in response. He slammed men against the chain and grated their faces across it. He threw others. It was an absolute blood bath.

This was the work of the Warrior of Hate. Illuminated by the ghostly glow of the TV set, Spike's head sunk low. "Shit..."

"Stop it," Rosa said, in a measured and even tone. "I've seen enough."

Gio obliged her, jumping off to switch the set off, though his massive frame would have concealed it anyway. "That cannot be Victor," he said, quietly. "Victor is the force of love. This is not him." He looked over to Rosa. "Rosita. I will get him back myself. Even if I have to knock his brains around!" He pounded his fist in his palm, and everyone flinched. "He is my friend! He is all our friend. I will move the Heavens to save him!"

Nobody doubted it, certainly not after that rousing promise. Spike even thought he saw Rosa blush in response. 

"Er...right," Colt said. "Let's discuss our next steps. I know my part in this, but this is going to be a team effort, y'all. Now, dear Miss Lily didn't mention this next bit, on the off chance the phone's been tapped, but...well, Joseph, you understand this stuff more than I do..."

The tall, exceedingly handsome Singaporean cleared his throat. "Correct. While the whereabouts of the other Chalices will require ongoing investigation, the locations of the equivalent Divine Wellsprings has been public knowledge for centuries. The corresponding spring for the Chalice of Will lies at the Island of the Sun, or Isla Del Sol, in Lake Chucuito, Bolivia. It's an Incan ruin of great spiritual energy. The closest town, Copacabana, is where the next leg of the global tournament will be held. We are now operating under the assumption Firebird will be there as well, possibly to hand Victor off in exchange for the Chalice."

"An hour ago I would have said just give it to them," Rosa said. "But now that I know what these things can do...or rather, not being sure what Firebird is trying to do with them..." She swallowed. "I felt that thing in my hands. It's not normal magick. It's something...'other'."

Colt surveyed the room. He had said his peace. Everyone knew where they stood. "Folks, I need sleep. And so do y'all. Next week, I'll confront Serpent. We'll get our loverboy back yet. Mark my words...the storm is coming to Los Venoms."

To Be Continued

Chapter 6: The Divine Chalice of Will

One upon a time, a man and woman lived in a house in a small village where it always rained--no matter the day or the season. Though the two were very much in love, the husband died unexpectedly, leaving the woman a widow caring for a large house, all on her own.

Then, one evening, the rain stopped. 

A stranger appeared in town. Though he was handsome, with beautiful eyes, the villagers were wary and kept their distance. All save for the widow. The spark between them grew into a flame. Though they loved each other, truly, they could not be together for long. The stranger moved on. The rains returned. And, in nine months, the woman bore a son. Beautiful, but most unusual, the child had the ability to compel affection from all around him, and so he hoped to never be lonely. Yet, as time went on and the boy grew older, the others in the village began to fear him. They called him cursed. Inhuman. 'The son of the devil', they said. Eventually, he was shunned. His mother fell ill and died, leaving him all alone in the world.

And so, he decided to become the devil that others called him. Powerful and strong, he fell in with a group of bandits.

Yet the boy would soon remember, in time, that his destiny was not one of loneliness and spite, but love and warmth...

Chapter 5: Wildcard Rumble

"I know why you're really doing this, cowboy," Mr. Iron said from his comfortable position on the dressing room couch. 

Colton Tamberly adjusted his bolo tie in the dressing room mirror, trying to ignore the signs of aging on his handsome face. There were lines there, yes, and it was a bit hard to accept that the years had slowly begun to catch up with him. Even when he was in his thirties, Colt had always felt young. Naïve. The perpetual adolescent. It was as if he'd blinked and suddenly, here he was, a man and a father...and not just to one wayward son, but many other difficult children.

Funny enough, it was one of Colt's recent hires, a certain effete muscle stud named Spike, who had made him feel a bit better about the reflection staring back at him. That kid from New York was like sunshine on a rainy day. He'd jokingly call Colt 'daddy' whenever Colt slipped and made fun of himself because of his age. Colt knew he should reprimand the kid for marking out over him (Spike never hid the fact that he was a huge fan of his) but the truth was that Spike really had the knack for making someone feel appreciated.

"Still got it," Colt said, giving himself the finger guns. He turned to his longtime companion. "How do I look?"

Mr. Iron sighed. He was in no mood to inflate his former tag partner's ego. "I'm serious, Colt. I know how you operate. An open slot on your roster this late into the year? Why'd you do it? Come on, man. You can trust me."

"Grrrr." Colt's shoulders dropped, as did his head. He dragged his hand through his hair, more wavy than usual due to the Mexican humidity. The heat made him ornery, but not as much as being called out by the one person on the Goddess' green Earth who could get him to spill his guts. 

No use hiding it. "Wildcard match was meant to pick out new talent," Colt sniffed. He abandoned the mirror and made for the bottle of brandy on the table. He poured himself and Mr. Iron a glass. "You want the truth? I'll give it to ya. I'm looking for more firepower to add to the GSA arsenal. This ain't about putting on a killer world tour no more." He gave his friend a hard look. 

Mr. Iron raised his eyebrows. "Did...Lily tell you why I came back?"

"Miss Suarez didn't need to tell me diddly squat. I been on Firebird's case since the gala in San Antonio." He sighed, long and heavy. "They're up to something. I need strong men and women at my back. Sure, I got some, but I want to cover all my bases. Joseph is my all-star, and I have Gio and El Amante, and hell, you. But I know how Firebird operates. I don't want my kids hurt."

"Kids," John Henry laughed. But it was not at Colt's expense. "You want a soldier. Is that it?"

"Icewolf and Deadboy went rogue," Colt said in a quiet voice. "I blame myself. Didn't give them the support they needed."

"Uh...Colt. Deadboy tried to take over the GSA by turning y'all into zombies."

Colt shrugged. "Aw, shucks, John, I used to do dramatic shit all the time at his age. He's a good kid."

"He's a dark mage!"

"And I'm a farm boy," Colt said, stern. "We are not bound by circumstance, my friend. What did you once say...my heart was as big as my muscles? Well, I'm not sure if I believe that. I can be a real asshole sometimes. But I always give my spellbreakers the benefit of the doubt. Whether or not Icewolf comes through tonight, he's gonna get all the support in the world from me, now. He'd be forgiven. Kid just needs direction. And a powerhouse like T. Rex would be an an absolute boon to have in this fight."

Mr. Iron nodded, though whether or not he fully agreed with his partner...it was hard to tell. He looked over at the janky, metal fan swivelling around the dressing room table. "So tonight is about seeing which one has what it takes to become your new Spartan. That it?"

Colt threw back the brandy. It stung real good. "I turn people into weapons, Johnny. Right now? I need a pretty damn big arsenal. Firebird used to be friendly rivals. Now? There's something about them that don't sit right with m

e." He looked over at his friend.

Their eyes met.

John Henry could no longer conceal the truth from his good friend. "Look, Colt," he said, placing his glass of untouched brandy on the table. "I don't know what Lily or Salim have told you yet, but there's something I need to come clean about. You're right on the money about Firebird. But..." He took a deep breath. "You ever heard of something called a Divine Chalice?"

Chapter 4: The Legacy

Once upon a time there was a large house with a large family, in the middle of the countryside. Among the many sons and daughters and cousins and uncles who dwelt in the house, there was a man, a kindly and patient gardener (though his father had wanted him to become a warrior). He fell in love with a woman, strong-willed and quick tempered (whose father had wanted to become a docile wife). Through countless battles of wills and desperate pleas to the heads of house, the family allowed the man and wife to be wed. 

The man and woman tried many times to have a child, without luck. Then, one day, an old woman appeared in the village. Her face bored deep scars. Her hands were gnarled. Her breathe reeked. She went from door to door, begging for scraps, but all turned away from her in fear. When she approached the very large house on top of the hill, the kindly man and the fierce woman answered her pleas with compassion. The man took her to the garden and allowed her to take as much as she needed. Yet, the woman accepted only one, ripe, juicy tomatillo. When the men in the village came to the door to demand the woman be thrown out beyond the boundaries, the woman there chased them away from her doorstep, allowing the old woman safe passage into the night.

Before she left, the very old woman thanked the man, telling him, 'what is grown here, is grown with love.' She blessed the man and woman thrice, and told them that 'roses would grow here forever more', and that they would have a child within a year. The woman vanished into the night.

Sure enough, the woman fell pregnant and gave birth to a daughter. From her cradle, and eruption of roses bloomed. The vines and roots covered the floors, ran out the doors and windows, and took hold of the garden. The family rejoiced, and ever since, has been in the business of selling flowers.

As for the daughter...

Chapter 1: Buck Tamberly's Daily Schedule

Sister Patience: Samuel? Samuel, take that paste out of your mouth! Yes put down the bottle. It's not food, dear! Yes, put it down, child. Come over here and settle down. 

Spike: I don't wanna settle down! I wanna watch spellbreaking!

Sister Patience: Peace, child. Come now, it's story time.

Spike: That's a big book.

Sister Patience: Isn't it? It's one of my favorites. It's very old, yes? It's a book full of fairy tales and stories from all around the world. While the words of the Goddess are most important, I do believe that these tales connect everyone, no matter where they come from, and can take us to specials places by picturing them in our mind.

Spike: Why?

Sister Patience: Well, I suppose tales of heroes and monsters and adventures are something we all share as a people, whether we're here in New York or as far as China. No matter who you are, you may find some similarity between them. It reminds oneself that the Goddess made us all different, and yet we share the same dreams, and hopes, and...oh I'm getting ahead of myself! Now, let's turn the page and let's see what story we'll be telling today. Ah...here is one...

There was once a king of the forest, a great and mighty stag, who bore a son. Though the son was seen as the heir to the kingdom of the great forest, he did not grow horns when he came of age. The other creatures of the forest made fun of him for this, though the King's loyal guardsmen--including the foxes, the rabbits, the bulls, and the hawks--promised to keep the son safe. Yet, the young deer felt abandoned by his father, who taught his gaurdsmen the ways of protecting the forest, but overlooked him.

And so, one day, the son went wandering...towards the sound of howling wolves...

World Tour Arc

7:00 AM - Zeus paws my face. He mews. "You have enough food in your bowl." Meow. "Ugh. Furry bastard." 

I guess I'm up now.

7:15 AM - Attend to the real master of the house, more powerful than my father, the other thunder god. That's settled. Brush teeth. Shower. I wonder if I can fit in some 'personal time' in bed, but I gotta' get going. I look in the mirror. I guess I sort of look like dad, huh? Sure am I handsome bastard like him, but mom's genes gave me dark hair instead of blonde, and made me a bit too pretty in the eyes and lips. Still, my skin is clear. The acne plague of my teens might be receding. 

I smile. "You're a bad, bad man, Buck Tamberly." 

I almost believe it. I put on a plaid shirt, jeans, and my cowboy boots. The best spellbreaking fed in the world can't run itself, y'know?

7:30 AM - Dad's already at the gym. Looks like he took my recent feedback on board and tried to make us breakfast...if you can call these charred, dry, black square on my plate 'breakfast'. These days, outside of dinner, dad talks to me almost exclusively in yellow sticky notes. He's given me a few tasks to work on today. 

I glance at the burnt toast in horror, and fix myself a bowl of cereal and orange juice. More pats for Zeus. Stack the plate on top of a mountain of dishes. It's a war of attrition between dad and I to see who will give first and do them. We haven't done much wrestling together lately, so I guess this is sort of our longstanding match.

7:45 AM - Another hot Texas morning in the outskirts of San Antonio. Some wild west this place turned out to be. Out yonder by the dorms, I see Sanjay and some new recruits scurrying on ahead to the gym. I'd like to go there myself right now and do some reps, but I have work to do. These lights don't stay on by themselves, and it sure as hell ain't my daddy who's balancing the books to keep it that way! 

7:55 AM - My office is my cozy, private world. I water my plant babies, making a note to check out how my other 'projects' are going in the community garden. I put on the new record Victor got me. Some dirty reggaeton. It's a bit early in the morning for hot music like that, but I don't care. It gives me energy. A cup of strong black coffee with a mound of sugar in it later and I am ready to run my dad's kingdom in his stead.

8:00 AM - You'd be bored to death if I told you how many goddess-damn spread sheets I have to fill out on the regular. I wish technology would get faster so we could do this on machines, like the kinds the US government has, instead of by print-calculator and hand. There's a lot I'd like to have, though. A better air conditioning unit. A less busy girlfriend (or devilishly handsome boyfriend). A damn glyph....

...Pretend you didn't see that.

Dad says magick ain't all its chalked up to be. Non magi (the 'bereft', if you want to be an archaic sounding asshole about it) always say their lives could be better if they could conjure the elements at will. Dad's always harping on how it takes energy out of you, how it lowers your lifespan (gee, thanks for soothing my anxiety, dad) and all sorts of stuff I almost half-believe. He does his best, I know. But in my heart, deep down, I know it would have been a lot easier on him if I had been born with magick. I guess I inherited that from Mom as well...though she never needed magick to be scary or powerful. 

I wonder how she's doing these days...

8:25 AM - More bills to pay. I cannot understand how a man who was once the premier athlete in his sport could be so damn bad at math! But that's always me, the one cleaning up dad's messes while he's out there running the show. It's not so bad. I could never be as outgoing as him. I'm more cool and reserved. 

I like my work. I like that it helps people. I like that I get to meet amazing spellbreakers with all sorts of personalities...and muscles, and great boobs (of either gender). Sometimes I do wish I could be more like them though. I'm sure dad wanted that too. Don't get me wrong, he's a good guy. He tries his best. I just don't think he ever got the whole 'father' thing down right. Not yet...

Payroll isn't til Friday so that can wait another day, but there's two guys of ours who have to be processed special since they're currently 'on loan' overseas. Now, I'll let you in on a secret. Dad says he doesn't like sending our fighters to other feds unless he thinks they're 'top dollar', and can act as ambassadors of the GSA. While this is mostly true, that doesn't apply to the two members of our roster currently absent.

Let's just say there's a reason he and I have bestowed them with the unofficial tag team 'the Prodigal Nightmares'. Not really a tag though. Those two brains of theirs would likely cancel each other out if they tried to actually team up, but they do have a habit of getting into trouble together. And often.

Dad sent them away because, while talented as hell, those two are absolute terrors. One was the former champ. The other, too powerful for his own good. The former champ is a delightful psychopath and one of my faves. The other is hot as hell and cool as ice, but always thinking with his fists or...certain other body parts of his. Dad needed to get them out of his hair, but something tells me we'll be hearing from them again real soon...

Moving on, I tear open a letter on the desk. I know who it is from based on the address, before I even read the name. John Henry Iron. AKA Mr. Iron. A giant of iron with a heart of gold. I miss him. He's such a good guy to have around, and...honestly...sometimes acted even more of a dad than my actual Dad.

Dear Colt,

How ya been, brother? I got your message. You'll find my teaching re-certification enclosed. I'll need to have a talk with Sandra before I finalize anything, but if I can get away for a few months, I'd be happy to come down and get this thing going.

Things are quiet in Manhattan. For once. Varla has pulled back a little as Laura starts school. She's not happy about it, but I think it'll be good for her. For them both.

I'll reach out as soon as I have an answer. Stay safe. Tell your good son, I said 'hi'. And go a little less hard on him! 

Warmest,

J.H.I.

I remove the certification, check for the signature and notary, and immediately file it where it needs to go. I make a note for dad. I'm sure he'll be pleased as punch. I know I am. John Henry brings lightness and order wherever he goes. Plus, he keeps dad's ego in check. 

It's mundane work today, but there's a big smile on my face. I love Mr. Iron. It would be great to have him down here, teaching. Besides, I know Spike would by really happy too.

Huh, I really do think about that little twerp a lot, don't I?

8:30 AM - I'm making good time today! Ok, let's look at some contracts. I love doing correspondence and scheduling with other feds (besides Firebird). Bad spelling. Grammatical errors. Ridiculous proposals. You start to feel really competent when you realize just who's in charge of all these promotions. Spellbreaking really hasn't come that far from the days when it was all circus sideshow. 

This communication is from Okami, though, and they're a dream to work with. Always very professional. Also, being Japanese, they go through translators who actually know how to string a proper sentence together. I know dad's been excited to work with them for awhile since they traded Kengo to us (and wow, has it been awesome to see his progress!) Looks like we're going to be trading one of ours to them. I wonder which one of the boys...

!!!

No, not one of the boys... 

One of the ladies. 

My lady. 

Well, not my lady, we never did get around to defining what we were. But there it is. In black and white. Signed and sealed. 

Rosa is going to Japan.

I'm tackled from both sides by emotions. The first: I'm so damn happy for her. She's fought like hell. She's one of the best spellbreakers we have, even at her level, and I kept telling dad this. Maybe it finally got through to him. Couldn't have been easy. She's like a daughter to him, I know (maybe she could have been a daughter-in-law...) Dad's oblivious to just about everything, and though I never told him, I think he knew we were kind of a thing. This is great news. 

But there's the other side of the coin. I feel like someone's just stabbed my in the chest. I feel betrayed. Why didn't she tell me? She's always so open. I try to be open with her too. Now, she's leaving Texas. Off to Japan. I know her and I know myself; we're not prepared to do a long distance thing.

I lean back in my office chair and cover my face with my hands. "Oh my Goddesss..." I'm annoyed. I need to hit something. Fuck this. Work can wait.

9:35 AM - "Oh, does that hurt? That's too bad. Because..."

I jump from to the top rope and slam the practice dummy into the canvas. The crash echoes across the walls of the practice ring. 

"I was just getting started, jobber." I'm in my short shorts and cut-off tank. Not exactly a spellbreaker. But when my eyes meet my reflection in the mirror, all full of cold anger, I know I'm not one to fuck with.

I'm also an idiot. Glad none of the others boys are here to see me in the ring. They'd wonder what the hell I'm doing. Sure, there's some niches on the market for what they're calling 'professional wrestling' (which is a confusing name, for one). It's basically spellbreaking without the spells. Non-magi like me. 

Ol' Buck, without his father's gifts...

"Oh, you thought I was done?" I slam my fist into the dummy's face. And I don't stop. I picture the prettyboy in my head, getting less prettier each time I break another part of his jaw. That's what I feel like doing right now—taking something away from someone. Their looks. Their power. Their freedom.

Don't get me wrong. No dark thoughts in Rosa's direction. I'd only ever fight a woman in the ring, and to be honest, my 'girlfriend' was not someone I'd ever pick a fight with. That's what I liked about her. She was sweet. Caring. But an absolute devil in the ring. I know a lot of you dudes out there mostly drool over guys, and I don't blame you (look at the studs I work with on the regular!) but she was something else. She was power. She was...

"Fuck!" I wince and pull back my fist. Hit the stupid dummy too hard and now I just probably broke my knuckle. I'm being dramatic. I can see Mr. Wheeler about if I'm really concerned. 

"Fuck this," I spit, leaving my 'KO'd opponent' to get scraped off the mats by the crew. "And fuck all you losers too." I step out of the ring and flip off the invisible audience. It's good to be bad.

Bad Buck? Nah, doesn't stick...

What, you thought I'd be a hero like my daddy? Sure, he's tough, but he's boring. All those cute guys he gets his hands on, and he could really play with them like I would...but he doesn't. Mr. Wonderful. My dad. Gotta' love him. How could you not? But it's so much more fun to play rebel. I know it would piss him off! Would definitely get his attention...

I'm slurping some water from the fountain when I hear the ring door open. My eyes widen in embarrassment. Shit. At least they didn't walk in on me when I was in-ring...I'd never live that down. I turn, glaring at who dared come in.

Spike's pretty face, perpetually starry eyed, glows from across the room.

That million-dollar smile. "Oh, Buck!"

My little ray of sunshine. I wonder how many hearts he's broken with that smile. You just can't help but feel good around Spike. He's like a golden retriever, and probably just as intelligent. No brain; no headache. Just vibes. 

He's also got an ass shaped by the hand of the Goddess herself. 

Dad's been real clear what would happen to me if I messed with any of the roster (which is a bit hypocritical, and maybe even a bit biphobic of him, considering he's gotta' be sure as shit I've been shacking up with Rosa). What I'd give for just one night with the Pinup Prince. That body. That kind of feminine, kinda rough voice. He's a walking contradiction. I would change his life...

Which is why I always have to play it cool around him. Tease him. Keep him off my scent. I walk over to him, arms crossed, a smirk that cut granite plastered across my face. 

"Hey, dweeb," I tell him. "Ain't you supposed to be at the promo shoot?"

Dad's got us taking new promo pics for this World Tour we got coming up. A real headache. Gloria, our photographer, and the best in the business, is on campus today orchestrating the whole thing (one less task for me to worry about). Of course, there's a fine line between talent and insanity, and Gloria toes it well. She's a basket case, but her work is excellent. 

Spike scratches his head and plays with his hair in that cute way he probably doesn't even realize. "Oh...that's right. I was just looking for Joseph. I thought he'd be here. He trains at weird hours."

I cock an eyebrow at that odd remark. "You might as well be trying to track down a damn unicorn," I tell Spike. Wow, his arms are looking bigger these days. He's like a bodybuilder in miniature, with a cherub's face. I hear he's got a reputation. So do I. And how I would love to ruin both of ours even more...

"Joseph is a free spirit," I explain. "He comes and goes and has no set schedule. Dad gives him free reign." The damn prettyboy champ. Sure, White Tiger is one of the best spellbrekers and our longest running champ, but I hate how dad always prioritizes the babyfaces. I miss Deadboy. Deadboy sure was a hell of a lot fun when he was the champ. Even though he did sorta try to take over the GSA and turn us all into his zombie valets...

But I'm sure that was just one of his practical jokes. He wouldn't harm a fly.

A human, however...

"Damn it," Spike pouts. He's so cute when he's upset. Ah fuck it, he's just cute in general. I want to pinch those cheeks of his (both sets). "I wanted to ask him to be my mentor. Everyone's got one now! But..." He sighs. "Ah...fuggedahbout it..."

I bite my tongue. White Tiger's already selected Kengo for mentorship. I would never tell Spike this to his face, but of all his peers, Kengo shows the most aptitude at the moment. But I can't break Spike's heart. I mean, just look at him! It would be like kicking a puppy. 

"Maybe he'll be at the photoshoot!" I tell him. I gotta' think fast. Spike has a way of slowly charming the information out of you. He's a lot smarter than he thinks he is. We're screwed if he ever realizes this. Nobody with an ass like that should also be intelligent...it would be simply too much power for one twink.

"By the way..." Spike starts. He bites his lip (I swear, every thing he does is designed to look adorable). "Your dad. Does he...uh...have a girlfriend?"

"Spike, for the last time, aside from messing around with John Henry in the locker rooms...and that Billy twink from years ago...dad is pretty much straight. He's not going to date you."

He turns bright red. Just what I wanted. "N-no! Not that! I mean, hey, if he's..." he shakes his head. "I saw him with a pretty girl at the Vegas show! A...younger girl. Like our age."

Inside, I feel myself suddenly age faster. I let out a long, tired sigh. I've here before. "Go on..."

"She was really pretty! Kind of wore a funky outfit. Lot of lace. Groovy pendent of a sunflower. Said she was a Light magi. I think her name was--"

"Lily!" I finish for him, laughing. I can't stop. Ah no, I snorted in front of Spike! He's going to think I'm such a dork. Wait though, Lily Suarez was over here? How dare she not drop by and say 'hey'! Ugh. Chicks, I swear...

I clear my throat and take back my power. "You himbo, that's my childhood friend! Lily and I went to school together. Colt basically raised her himself. She's one of the smartest damn people I know. Isn't she working for the glyph institute overseas?" Why the hell would she come to a spellbreaking tournament? She always used to think it was silly...

Spike shrugs. "Dunno, but I agree with you about the being very smart thing. Not that I would know what that's like. She sounded really interested in all that weird stuff that's been happening lately."

"Be more specific, twunk." I smile at him. I would never want to hurt Spike's feelings...maybe just put him in a camel clutch and see him squirm a little for me. "What do you mean?"

"Like the accident at the gala. And the accident backstage with the security guard."

"Ah yeah, I heard about that. It is odd." This is the stuff that puts me, already a guy with a healthy level of anxiety, on edge. It's always the handsome ones with the mental illnesses, right? 

I don't like that dad's messing with Firebird. Those Russian feds are crooks. Like the mafia. In bed with weirdos like the Alchemists. Dad think's he's invincible. A hero. Sometimes I believe it. But if Lily is worried about recent events...

I do what I do best and that is...change the subject. I grab my gear bag. "Hey, I'll walk you over to the shoot." I make a deliberate point to check my wrist watch, even though I know (with my impeccable organization skills) the shoot won't be for another half hour...plus a twelve minute spill-over for Gloria, who's always late to things.

Spike looks between me and the ring. "Hey...you look sweaty." He grins. "It's very hunky. But what were you doing? Practicin'?

Kill me now. Kill me now. Kill me now. "Uhhhhhhhh...."

"I bet you'd make a great pro wrestler," Spike says, with great enthusiasm. I try to scan his face for the sarcasm. None. "I know it's not as popular as spellbreaking, but hey, not everyone can have a glyph, right? Doesn't mean you can't kick ass. Plus...I'm sure there's plenty of hunky wrestlers too."

It's a little insulting, but I'll let it slide. "Thanks," I say shyly. I feel naked in front of this stud, and not in the way I'd want. Plus, I'm still sore over the news about Rosa. "So, the studio. Let's go! Maybe we can grab a coffee at the canteen. My treat?"

"Oh wow!" You think I'd just laid a golden crown on his pretty head (and boy, does a king like that deserve it). "Thanks, Buck. You're the best."

"Tell me something I don't know, Yankee." Not thinking (damn ADD brain) I give Spike a playful tap on the ass. He's wearing work out shorts. Tight workout shorts.

It's like touching the ass of a god. Instant boner. And butterflies too.

Spike blushes. I blush. Oh fuck, what have I done! We don't say anything to each other. In spellbreaking, as in wrestling, it's advantageous to wait for the other guy to make the first move.

I think Spike and I might be staring each other down on the mats for a long, long while...

10:30 - Okay, so let me tell you about Gloria Delgado. She and Dad go way back, and no, I don't think she and Dad were ever an item. Gloria is probably the one woman he would respect too much to make a move. Plus, dad likes a bit of strange, but Gloria is...eccentric.

"HELLO, MY SWEET MUSES!" the curly haired woman with the giant, cat's eye glasses and the leopord print scarf around her neck, says as she throws open the door to the studio space. It nearly breaks off its hinges.

The boys (and Rosa) all shuffle around, half in our gear, half in our civilian attire. The studio space is really just a glorified storage closet with a canvas draped over the back. Imagine fitting a bunch of gym bunnies and muscle guys in there and you can understand why most people loathe promo photo days. That's all coupled with the fact that....in all honesty...most spellbreakers are shy, insecure nerds when not in character. Hard for some of the guys to really bring out their personality in a single frame.

Of course, Iggy, our resident artist, is all smiles. Dressed in green fishnet stockings over his signature pink briefs, he prances over to our fabulous photographer. They shed glittery stardust with each footstep.

"Look, all!" they squeak. "Perfection is here. Look at you, pretty lady! Kisses. Kisses."

"Ah, my best subject," Gloria squeaks back. "How is the weather lately on planet Iggy?"

"Oh you know, same old same old..." They walk off to the back room together. Nobody realizes it but me, but Iggy's a damn genius. He's taken the heat off the rest of the boys. Made them less pressured. They can steel themselves for Gloria's rapid directions later.

I try to not let my eyes wander and my mouth water amid this room of beefcakes. I busy myself by setting up the camera. Rosa is the only one who approaches me. Of course...

"Hey!"

She's all smiles. Like she doesn't know. Fine. I'll play this game. I smile back at her, trying to pretend like nothing's wrong. We talk about getting dinner, but she's got training later (figures). There's nothing in her voice that lets on that she's hiding something. You can always tell when someone's a bit nervous. She's really good. It...hurts.

Gloria comes back before I can hit her with the "Can we talk?" bomb. A deadly finisher, that sentence. No kicking out of that one. 

But she's suddenly called to help Calypso with a loose seam. Rosa has her little sewing kit on hand at all times. She's our resident gear doctor. Don't know what these idiots are going to do when she's gone...

The shoot begins. Gloria is all: "Yes, yes, work that angle. Ah, no, you're holding back. No, no. show me your SPIRIT! RIP open your torso, sunder your flesh, and expose the TRUE YOU! Bring forth the wild beast within! YES! That's it! More passion!"

I generally love watching giant men suffer, but even this is too much. Eventually, El Amante and Iggy have to push poor Kengo in his little fundoshi out in front of the camera. He looks bright red, hunched over, shy. Mind you, I have seen this man toss two guys out of a ring in one go and not bat an eyelash...

"Look at YOOUUUU," Gloria says, arms gesticulating wildly to Kengo's handsome bulk. "My delicious, beefy burrito with guacamole on the side. That face! That body! The camera melts, Kengo!"

I try to open my mouth to tell her to dial it down, but there's no stopping her. Her encouragement is overwhelming. Kengo looks like he's going to die. I worry his bear spirit might emerge and freak out on everyone if this keeps up. Minoru can be...very defensive of his soul-bonded partner.

Kengo swallows. He looks over at me. "I...am...not use to this."

"It's okay, bud!" I tell him. But I don't even believe my own encouragement. I look over at Spike, pleadingly. Tag in, tag in!

What's interesting about Spike is that he always has this kind of perpetually curious, almost blank expression on his face. I think that's why people call him a 'himbo'. But really, I believe his brain and my mine are very similar. It's not that he's absent of thoughts....it's quite the opposite. He's always thinking. Overthinking...

But when a situation arises that calls for quick action...well...you should see his face light up. That's when he looks like a babyface hero, ready to step in and take action.

"Hey, Kengo!" Spike, still dressed in his sweats and baseball T-shirt, jump in and places his hands gently on Kengo's meaty shoulders (and yes, it's adorable that he has to reach up to do so). "Here, turn your body out like this. Let's see a hint of that butt."

"S-S-SPIKE!" Kengo stammers. He takes a deep breath. "Oh...okay."

My eyes narrow. Was it magick that Spike used, or something else? Whatever his power, Kengo relaxes. Maybe there really is something in that Yankee boy's smile...

Arms crossed over chest, Kengo's whole personality shifts from demure to confident, ass-kicking sumo (with a great ass). It's editorial.  

Gloria loses it. "Y-YES! This is what I LIKE TO SEE! Oh, Kengo, you sexy, beefy little gyoza. The camera wants more. FEED THE CAMERA! Yes. Turn! Look at that healthy butt."

Surrounded by morons and maniacs who could wipe out the entirety of the Texas army. And I'm the guy who processes their payroll. That's me.

The shoot continues. Spike's next. "What, MY turn?" He's fake shy, transparently so. I'm not the only one who rolls their eyes as he approaches the camera. "Oh, but I'm so bad at this, you know..."

I have never seen a man drop his pants faster, or whip off his shirt. My eye roll quickly turns into an eye bulge. Spike is a cutie out of costume too, but when you see him in his natural glory...well...you realize why people call him the Pinup Prince. I wish I were a poet and not an artist—to describe his body. It's like...if the Statue of David had stunted growth from drinking too much coffee.

Told you I wasn't a poet.

Every flex. Every pose. Perfect. Spike's eyes shine, somewhere between hero and homme fatale. The bad boy gone good. To make things worse, his skimpy briefs (I won't elaborate; I'll keep it clean) are the ones I gave him for his birthday. The navy blue velvet with the white anchor. I designed them. Rosa fabricated them. 

He must have caught me staring. As Spike lowers his arm from his signature, single bicep flex, he looks over at me. His confidence wavers. He blushes.

What...no. Buck, don't get your damn hopes up. This bite-size warrior angel is surrounded by Greek gods. What makes you think he'd ever toss a wanting glance in your direction, tom-cat?

Thankfully, Gloria's endless fawning over her subjects derails my self-deprecating train of thought. "Oh my, Spike, you bite-sized, sugar dusted, cinnamon donut. I think might ned to put you in my pocket and take you back to San Francisco. You know how to bring out all the right angles."

Hands on hips, massive pecs pushed out, Spike smiles like the damn hero he is. "Aw shucks. Thanks, ma'am. I have a lot of experience!" 

I hate to feed his ego, but it's damn true. Spike is a like a sun. Everyone seems drawn by his light, or orbits around him. He brings out the energy in people, turning shy bearcubs into sumo studs, and even making flamboyant narcissists like Iggy Astro take note. 

Speaking of which, I've noticed a slight shift in their communications with each other. Used to be, Iggy would enter a room and Spike would suddenly make an excuse to use run away to the bathroom. Now? Those two get off to each other's teasing and threats.

"You look like a little boy playing around in his underwear."

"At least I'm actually wearing real gear...and don't look like I'm about to jump out of a cake for drunken women to throw dollars at."

"Hm. I think perhaps I will chokeslam you into this floor right now and end your miserable life."

"Do it. But you better sit on my face."

"YOU better sit on my face." 

And then the shared laughing, usually with Iggy snatching Spike in a headlock (maybe just a little tighter than necessary) and giving him a noogie. It's...disgustingly adorable. And just a bit hot too?

"What about you, Buck?"

I look up from the camera. I was just about ready to take the tripod down. "We're done," I tell Spike. Half the guys have already left, eager to get out of the room as quick as possible. Rosa's already gone off to Gio's offensive magick class.

Spike points to the camera in front of me. "I know you're aren't on the roster, but why don't we see you strut yourself too!"

Is...this just an excuse to see me in gear? I play it cool. Dad always told me how to make sure what's going on inside doesn't show on your face. "Since when am I speallbreaker, Spike? Don't waste Gloria's film."

"WASTE!?" the curly haired woman gasps. It's like I spit in her face. "It would be a privilege to capture the handsome—yet roguish—countenance of the heir to the Tamberly spellbreaking dynasty."

"Eh..." I scratch my head and smile. I would like to die. Spike, what was that you said about sitting--

"Come on," Spike says, "don't you got gear?"

Well, yes? "Er...just some black training trunks in my gym bag? But I-" 

"Hmmm wait a moment. Let me grab something from the costume chest."

Spike runs off before I can stop him. I hate to see him go, but damn, do I love to watch him leave. I'm an artist, but not even I could sculpt a butt like his.

I check my watch. I'm late for my next thing. There's a reason why I keep a schedule. Still, when a pretty boy asks you to take off your pants and flex for him, you don't say no. Spike returns with a leather jacket with copious amounts of fringe, somewhere between genuinely badass and a bit costumey.

"Hey, I recognize that!" I take the jacket. Heavier than it looks. "One of dad's gear designers made it for him but he never used it. Said, 'Only villains wear dark colors like that.'"   

Spike gives me his heart-breaking smile. "Well. Are you a bad boy, Buck."

The beast inside me suddenly hungers, but I hold my tongue, giving Spike a sly, mischievous look. I feel self-conscious stripping down in front of him, so I disappear behind the canvas and slip into my black trunks, boots, and this leather jacket number. 

"Well. How do I look?"

Spike and Gloria both look like I just whipped it out and pissed on the floor.

I bit my lip. "Oh...not good?"

Spike opens his mouth to say something, but Gloria gets there first.

"OH, MY PRECIOUS BUCK! YOU TALL SLICE OF DARK, GERMAN CHOCOLATE CAKE. LOOK AT YOU! You already have an attitude for the camera. Yes, give us a mean look, go on now!"

She snaps away. I try not to panic.

"Er...Like this?" I put my hands on my hips and glare. Growing up around spellbreakers, you know how to capture the look of a promo. It's second nature to me. I study details in posters and fliers that most people miss, but they all really do add up. A bunch of subtle things making a greater whole.

"Shit..." Spike finally says.

I break from my icy stare at my invisible victim. "It's...shit!?"

"NO! I mean...." Spike is stuttering. I've never seen him do this before. I've also never seen him compose himself and not look like a good ball, pinup slut, or a badass fighter. Whatever this Spike whose looking at me and smiling at me now...I want to see more of him.

"Buck, you totally look like a real, sexy heel."

I'm taken aback. But I don't show it. Instead, I give him a dark look and a sneer that cut burn this whole studio down. "Dman, boy. I am a real, sexy heel." Not entirely sure what's come over myself, I drop the jacket to the ground and flex both my biceps, looking at myself like I'm the hottest thing since Colt 'The Bolt'. "And I don't even need magick to know that."

It's a whopper, but it lands. "Damn..." I hear Spike squeek. And...cross his legs?"

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind Gloria. I...do look badass. Well, I look like a badass who isn't as jacked and muscular as most of these studs. A badass with promise. Pity I don't have a glyph of my own. Always in the office, doing my best to make these boys look good, when I should be out there outshining them all. This sport doesn't know what it's missing...

But, the universe likes to put cocky guys like me in its place. Next thing I now, dad's standing there, having burst through the room in his signature 'look at me!' style.

"Hey, folks, what's..." 

There's no hiding. I've been caught in the act. I'd rather dad having walked in on me jerking it to one of the old fliers of Apollo Champion... (there's...precedent for that).

"Oh, Bucky."

"Hi...Dad."

Dad clears his throat. Spike and Gloria are frozen still behind him. Needless to say, the mood in the room has changed.

"What's...with the getup, son?"

"I was just..." I swallow, and pick up the jacket from the floor. "Er...neverm ind."

I'm not sure what Dad is thinking. He looks at me blankly. "Shouldn't you be working on fliers?" But his serious tone drops. "Hahaha! Come on, bad boy. Leave the poses to the professionals."

It's a tone both playful, forgiving, and just a tiny bit backhanded. In other words, how Dad talks to me most of the time.

I look at the ground. "Thanks..." I don't want to look at anybody. I don't even want to punch a wall. I just want to burst into flames. I quickly put my jeans and shirt on and try and duck out of the room before Spike or anybody else says something to me.

As I get to the door, Dad calls back.

"Hey, Bucko."

I wince. "Hm?"

"That fringe don't look half bad on you, son! You pulled it off better than I did when I wore that. And that's a damn fact."

I cock my head to the side and wonder if this is Dad realizing he was a bit of a dick to me a few moments ago. Or...maybe this is encouragement. From him? 

"But just remember, there's no way in Hell Colt the 'Bolt' would raise a bad guy!"

I smile. "Thanks." 

Heh. We'll see about that, old man...

1:40 PM - After lunch.

Gio and I, in the garden. It's not big. Just a little courtyard space between the canteen and the gym. A few planters. A few pots. Rosa, myself, and Gio are practically the only people who use ot. Surprise, 2/3 have a glyph involving plants.

Hunched over a planter, GIo gently spreads soil. It's calming, watching a giant man like him doing something so serene like this. "The basil is coming in. But there is...eh...not enough."

"We do need more herbs."

"Yes. The tomatoes are looking good, Buck! You would almost think you had the same glyph as me."

"Mmm. Thanks."

"Did Gloria make you tired again? She makes me tired. She is good but..."

"I know, big guy. I know. Poison to us introverts. Sill, she's important. She has a glyph too, you know. It allows her to translate for us when we're abroad. She'll be coming on the tour to photograph and act as our translator."

"Ah!"

"Hey, Gio. Has...Rosa talked to you about anything important lately?"

"Important? Like what?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm...just being weird."

"Hmm." Gio wipes his large hands on his apron and then pats me on the head, like I'm Zeus the cat. "You are not weird, Buck. You just think a lot. You are very important to all of us."

I blink. It's...hard to take a compliment. Especially when you feel like the weakest link out of the whole crew. Still, I smile all the same as I place a succulent into the new pot, its new home.

"Thanks, Gio. I needed to hear that today."

3:30 PM - The day is dying down. I'll be off work soon, out of this musty office.

Working on fliers for the big tour. Reading Dad's notes.

The lines need to be bolder here. I don't like this font; it's too 'side-show'. Put me more front in center on this poster. Make my nose look less big. You need to work on your shading here more. Remember, this is due in a week.

Dad...sure has an interesting way of giving feedback.

Nothing I do ever seems good enough for him. There's always a comment, well-intended or not. He seems short on compliments these days. All this work, hardly a thank-you. Can't go to Vegas. Can't go to to pro school. All because I'm the one who has to run this damn company while its president goes out there strutting around in his underwear...

Someone knocks at the office door.

I wince. I'd kill for a joint right now (but Heaven help me if Dad found out...). "Enter," I say. "If you dare."

Ah, I see we're on a damn lucky streak today. Rosa, ponytail and smiles, enters the room. I'm hit by the smell of her perfume and the undercurrent of a gal who's just been kicking people's ass the last hour or so. The huntress to my apex predator. Or at least, that's what we used to joke to each other.

"Howdy, cowboy," she says. "Sorry, I'd love to stay and chat but...

I've heard this story before...

"I gotta' grab a purchase order form. We're running low on thread. And with the tour coming up I have a feeling I'm gonna be on call a lot for costume emergencies.

I raise an eyebrow. Something's not adding up. I think it's time I ripped the band-aid off here. Thing about anxiety, about knowing you need to have a 'conversation', is that it feels like you're holding a grenade without a pin in your hand. Chuck the damn thing. Let it blow.

I pull Okami's offer from beneath my skull paperweight. "There's no good way to bring this up," I start, trying to sound calm. "But I saw this." I hand her the paper. 

She stares at it, perplexed. Several different expressions cross her face. When she's done, she looks up at me and places it on the desk.

"Ah," she says. "Wow. Damn."

"That's it?" I ask her. "When were you going to tell me?"

I regret the accusatory tone. Rosa gives me a 'who do you think you're talking to' look. "Sorry? Buck...I had no idea. Shit..." she breathes out, bewildered. Her hand runs to her ponytail and she begins playing with her hair. A nervous gesture.

"You...didn't know?"

"Not...exactly." She sighs. Whatever she was about to do, it can wait. She takes the seat opposite me but doesn't say anything. Behind her, Zeus sleeps, nestled between a snake plant and an African violet. Ah, to be a cat and not have to worry about navigating relationships. 

"Colt asked me if I would be interested in going over to Japan," Rosa says. She looks up. "It wasn't a done deal. I just said I would be interested. I was going to talk to you about it first."

I roll my eyes. "Then why didn't you?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "But don't act like how you usually do."

"What the hell does that mean, Rosa?"

"I'm not your opponent, Buck," she shoots back. "I'm not trying to hurt you here. You don't need to freeze me out."

She knows me too damn well. It's true. If I feel slighted, a wall goes up. I'm quick to sever ties. "You really didn't know." I make it sound like a statement and a question.

She shakes her head, slowly. "Fuck. I don't know what to do. Colt really just asked me...I didn't think..."

No. That sounds exactly like Dad, king of the mixed motives. I wonder how much of Rosa and I's relations factored into his proposal. "I believe you," I tell her. The next part though, stings the most. 

When you learn how to fall, or take a bump, you're basically forcing your body to go against its instincts and what it would normally do to avoid impact. It's like fighting against every cell. What I tell Rosa is...a lot like that. I have to force the words out, because at the end of the day, I know it's the right thing.

"You should go," I tell her.

"I don't need your approval," she says. But it's not mean. She's right, of course. She is her own person. "I know you're not an asshole, Buck. You wouldn't want me to stay just for..." she flits her hand away.

For the undefined, 'not relationship' we're both in with each other? It's true, we never did make it official. Again, love and wrestling are more alike than not. Neither of us was read to make that move. Give it a name.

She smirks. "As if two doms could make it work, anyway, right?"

It stings. I really want to cry. But, the other side of the coin is seeing her get to kick ass.

"Look," she says, getting up. "I need to give it some thought. This is a big deal. I mean, Japan? That's like...the other side of the world. That's crazy."

She's going to take the offer. I already know she is. Still, I appreciate the show of hesitancy. "Hey, let's get dinner tomorrow. You can tell me what ideas you want me to implement in the flier for your final match before you go overseas."

6: 10 PM - Dinner with dad. These dinners together and getting less and less frequent these days.

I'm a half decent cook. Dad could burn water. Gio's been showing me how to make lasagne, so I heat some up from the other night.

"Leftovers, eh," Dad says, pushing around the pasta on his plate with a fork. He sprinkles a generous helping of salt on the lasagne. "Needs more flavor if you're gonna reheat it."

I put my fork down and glare at him but he's too busy chewing and looking at the roster list for the Mexico show coming up, the first stop on this ridiculous world tour. Sounds like a good way to open us up to more of Firebrid's schemes. Or, maybe that's the idea. Dad is either oblivious or playing the part real well. Something tells me, the last few weeks anyway, he's been more involved in looking into Firebird's shady dealings than I first thought.

"Saw Rosa's invitation come in," I tell Dad blankly.

His face brightens. "Oh yeah! Shit, I forgot about that. I hope she takes the offer. She'll be great. A real damn star." He shrugs. "Kinda thought we were never good enough for her anyway. She should have stayed down with Calavera Escarlata's academy."

"But you know how misogynist his school can be, dad."

"Ah, she's a tough girl, Bucky. She could handle it."

I try to restrain my frustration. It is difficult. "Why didn't you tell me about this offer?"

"Huh? Well, I figured you'd find out anyway, and it was just kind of a spur of the moment idea...until it wasn't." He smiles. So confident. So sure all of his choices are the best ones. 

For all of us.

"Did...you know about us?" I'm feeling bold. Maybe stupid. It's not smart to anger Dad. He's gentle as a lamb with me, but he can yell some, and it...it can be a lot to deal with.

He straightens his back. He's all business now. "What do you mean, son? That you two had some kinda' puppy love thing going on? Yeah, I knew about it. Didn't say anything because I was thankful you weren't foolin' around one of these big dumb himbos." He returns to playing with his lasgane, pushing it around the plate with his fork. Just eat the damn thing!

"Men are scum," he sniffs. "Take it from me. I used to be a player back in the day. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't have any issue with you messing around with guys. But I know spellbreakers. You'd get your heart broken and I'd have to break the arm of whoever did it to you."

"But you were fine with me and a girl?"

He gives me a hard look. "That's not.." he trails off. Now, he's 'ornery'. "What's all this about, anyway? Would I rather you not date one of our roster? Hell yeah. You know I've been in this business for just about as long as Calavera. I seen what these fed bosses get away with; the shit they do to their own people. You want the truth? I'll give it to you. I think Rosa's salt of the Earth. Would be a privilege to have her as daughter. But it's not a good look for the son of the fed president to be going around courting her. People will get ideas. Think I'm playing favorites. It would become a whole fine mess, son." 

The metal of the fork in my hand is getting hotter by the second as I squeeze down on it, trying to hold back my anger.

But Dad doesn't let up once you get him going. "Look. Rosa deserves to shine. I encouraged her to go to Okami. Maybe some of it was about business, yes. But if she turns it down, I wouldn't tell her she was doing wrong. I want her to be happy. I want her to find her path, in her own way. But I also know talent. She's something new. She's going to take this sport in a new direction, and she needs to set out into the big, bad world in order to make that happen."

Dad pisses me off because he speaks the truth, whether you want to hear or not. Yet, there's always the self-serving part to Colt. I wait for the other shoe to drop.

Sure enough... "Besides, Rosa is a Rivera-Rosado, one of the best spellbreaking dynasties out there. Now, I could see how you two would make plenty sense. The Prince of spellbreaking and the Princess getting together. Hell, that would make one great storyline. But that's a fairytale, Buck. You know what would really happen? Guys would get jealous. El Amante would get weird and protective. And then...what happens if you broke up, huh? What kinda' fallout does that leave me to smooth over?" He shakes his head, radiating disappointment. 

I slam down the fork as I sit up. Dad doesn't even flinch. 

I glare at him. "I need to take a walk."

He stares me down like I'm one of his opponents. "You do that, son."

7:10 PM - The air is getting cooler. The sky is clear and starry. Insects sing. Fall is just around the corner now.

Though about going back to the training ring and kicking the shit out of that dummy some more. Instead, I've been doing circles around campus, weaving in and out of barns and buildings, trying to keep my head on straight.

It's too much. Rosa. The world tour. The expectation to perform or to put out good work. Dad is demanding, and he says it's because he wants people to succeed. I know the truth. It's because he wants to look good. I think not becoming Global Champion (which he could have been, easily) gave him a complex.

Or maybe I'm just looking for flaws to be mad at. It's easy to love Colt. 

It's hard to be his son.

Must be hallucinating. I'm hearing music. Soft guitar. Androgynous, angelic vocals. I follow the sound to the fence outside the dorms. 

Quiet nights of quiet stars 

Quiet chords from my guitar

Floating on the silence that surrounds us...

Iggy Astro, in torn jeans and a pink crop top beneath a green flannel, sits on the fence and strums along on their guitar. They don't see me. I stand and listen, knowing they'll stop once I get closer. Something about being the boss' son...it puts people on their best behavior. It also has the tendency to make them self-conscious. Even pathological divas like Astro.

I wait for them to finish. They sigh, and mutter something underneath their breath in Portuguese. It's weird to see them....sad? Longing? I've noticed Victor, El Amante, not hanging around them as much. It's weird, you know. When they started dating, they were attached at the hip. If El Amante wasn't at the level he was, Dad would have been pissed off. But if he likes you, Dad let's you get away with a lot.

Iggy, ever perceptive, notices me. "Oh, it's the handsome Buck."

I smile. Being a bad guy is effortless for Iggy. So is being nice. I wish I was like that, scary and lovely. "Hey, Iggy. You already know this, but your guitar skills are awesome. I wish I could play guitar like you."

He laughs musically. "If you could, you'd have to beat the girls and boys away with sticks. You would simply be too powerful, kitten."

He's beautiful. Or they. Ugh, a bisexual's dream. Someone who could be either gender, or neither. Wish all of humanity was like that. They're would be a hell of a lot less war...

"I'll leave you alone. I was just out for a walk."

They cock their head to the side, letting his long, gorgeous pink hair fall over his shoulders. I immediately push out the desire to have a crush on him. "You look..." he pauses. "Hm. Are you okay?"

"Just tired from work," I lie. Well, it's not exactly a lie.

"I was just out here waiting for someone," he says, resting the acoustic guitar in his lap. He holds up his hand. "Four...three...two...one..."

At the end of the path, the door to the dorms swings open. Spike stands there. "Ice cream time!" he declares excitedly to no one. 

Iggy and exchange a knowing and amused look, either of us trying not to giggle.

"Doo doo doo, ice cream time...do do doooo." Spike notices us and freezes. "Oh..."

"Off to the commissary?" I say, smiling at him.

Iggy licks his fingers. "Vanilla...or strawberry?" 

He looks between me and Iggy. "Uh...am in trouble?"

"No, kitten," Iggy laughs, hopping off the fence.

"You're...not gonna break that guitar over my head, are ya?"

"And waste it on your empty noggin?" Iggy shoots back. "How did your talk with Joseph go?"

Spike sighs. "He said he would be honored to be my mentor...before telling me had already picked Kengo." The sailorboy crosses his arms, pouting. "Cian has Gio. Blue Dragon has Viki. I can't think of anybody else to ask now..."

A glowing construct in the shape of a neon lightbulb appears over Iggy's head, nearly blinding me and causing me to yelp. "Oh, but I can," Iggy starts, wickedly. He bows gracefully for Spike. "I know you would just love for me to be your mentor," he says, before sinisterly narrowing his eyes. "And I know you won't tell your favorite bad guy 'no'. Even you are smarter than that."

Spike is taken aback. Suddenly I forgot what I was mad about. "M-me? But. I'm the rising babyface king of the GSA! My mentor can't be a heel! It's...it's not tradition!"

"Fuck tradition," Iggy says. He puts down the guitar, dissipates his 'light bulb' and takes Spike's hands in his. "Let's be little rebels together, kitten. You are so talented. I could teach you so much more. We play our roles well, sure, but who cares? What did I tell you back in Vegas?"

Spike suddenly looks embarrassed. What...did happen in Vegas, I wonder now? "That shadow can't exist without light. And light can't shine brighter without darkness."

"Exactly," Iggy says. "You said that you were trying to expand your magick, yeah? Trying to work on your energy barrier. I can help you. Light is just energy. It works the same as your force magick. It's tricky, but I can show you how to make it work." He smiles. It's...one of the rare times I haven't seen him pull an 'evil' smile. If this is a work, he's damn good at it. I sense it's not.

I know what lonely eyes look like. Iggy is...he wants company. A student. An admirer. I forget how far away from his home they are some time...

I'm not sure if it's because Spike is scared of saying no, or he's actually interested. He looks briefly over at me before nodding his head with enthusiasm. "Okay! Especially if it means we can hang out more." 

That's the thing about this industry. One day, you're literally kicking the organs out of your opponent, the next day, you're best friends. Or vice versa. 

"Well," Iggy says, sing-song like, picking up their guitar, "now that this is settled...I am off to go put some cucumbers over my eyes." He blows a kiss to us both. Boa noite, handsomes."

8:00 PM - 

"This is the last item on my schedule, Spike."

"Then I'm glad I'm here to help, Buck!"

"Ugh, it's no fair. You can carry both those boxes in either arm!"

"And you...can't? Come on, Buck, you're strong too! You have nice muscles."

"Not as nice as yours."

"Iggy told me that 'comparison is the thief of joy'. I still don't know what that means, but he'd probably say that right about now."

"Yeah...hey, did Rosa tell you about..."

"Okami? Yeah. She did. Can I be honest?"

"With me? Always."

"I'm...I'm afraid to lose my best friend here."

"Same. Ugh, there's going to be too much testosterone around with her gone, Spike! I can't stand it."

"...Can I ask a question?"

"Just ask it, Yankee."

"Were you two like...a thing?"

"Not so himbo after all, are you? Yes. We were. But...it was just a silly thing."

"I don't think love is silly."

"It wasn't love. Maybe it was...the early stages. I dunno. I've had some girlfriends in the past, but we never to got that point."

"...Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

"Not yet, but I think after this...yeah, I'd be open to it. It's hard to explain. Men and woman are very different. And very alike. Hey, can I ask you a question, Spike?

"Shoot."

"You and Iggy. Las Vegas. Well?"

"GAH! Okay yeah, we hooked up. But to be fair, I was really horny."

"You're always really horny."

"I kinda' had a crush on them for a moment, Buck. But then I remembered him and Victor. And I don't need a giant luchador coming after me..."

"After, or 'on'?"

"Aw, Buck, gross! Hahaha. I mean, sure..."

"Those two are open, anyway, Spike. He'd probably encourage it. Hell, you could have worked your way into a threesome...but that would have probably killed you. Then again, it is you we're talking about here."

"Are you coming on the tour with us, Buck?"

"Parts of it. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just..."

"..."

"..."

"Do you want to hang out sometime, Spike?"

"Yeah. I'd like that a lot! Hey, here's the last of the boxes. I should go back. Kengo and I are doing leg day in the morning."

"Ah, gotcha. Well, thanks for your help. Have a good night, Spike."

"You too, Buck."

"...There he goes. I wonder what he thought I meant when I said we should 'hang out'. Shit, what did I even mean?"

Next Chapter!