“We did it! The beast is dead!”
-Last words; Marten Rowes, Concordian monster hunter, 167 U.E.
Yin was heading out the door, lolling dockworker over her shoulder, when a lumbering beast ducked through the doorway and knocked her back.
It was tall as a durok and muscled like a bull, clothes straining against striated bulk. Each arm was thick as Yin’s torso, ending in big, scarred hands. Folded-up blades jutted out from the elbows, seemingly attached to the body itself. A comparatively small head rested between bulging, overdeveloped trapezius muscles, with a mane of shaggy grey hair. His face was all angles, holding all the grace of an anvil, with a crooked nose that had been broken more than once.
“Oh, apologies,” the beast spoke in a voice like a rumbling skyship engine. It stepped out of Yin’s way with deliberate, slow movements. “These old bones aren’t as nimble as they used to be.”
This was no beast, Stephan realized. It was human. At least, something vaguely approaching a human.
“Watch where you’re walking next time,” Yin said, undeterred, and slipped outside with her limp cargo.
The man shouted another apology after her, shrugged, and crossed the room to get to the bar, gingerly sidestepping tables as if afraid to destroy something. He towered over Stephan, two slabs of pectoral muscle blocking the lower half of his face from view.
“Hello,” Stephan worked out, struggling to keep his face neutral. “What can I get you?”
“I’m not quite sure,” the man rumbled. He glanced down at one of the stools, contemplating whether to sit, and decided against it. “I usually throw down a beer or six, but I figured I’d go for something fancier tonight. Whaddya recommend?”
“Depends on what you’re after. Something strong, or something that tastes nice, or a little bit of both?”
“Little bit of both sounds good.”
“If you’ve got a sweet tooth, I’d recommend an Arcana Twist.” Stephan thought the man looked like he’d chug wood alcohol without batting an eye, but his professional courtesy came first.
The man shrugged. “Mix me one of those, bartender.”
Stephan obliged. He mixed one part vodka, one part blackberry juice, and one part lemon liqueur in a shaker, poured it in a cocktail glass, and added a couple blackberry gummy candies to float on top. “There you are. One Arcana Twist.”
“Thanks, bartender.” The man gripped the glass by its delicate stem with two thick fingers and raised it to his lips. “Mmm, that’s pretty good.” He chewed on a gummy, jaw muscles working.
“You remind me of someone I used to know,” Stephan said. “Except he had durok and giant blood, while you look shockingly human. Uh, no offense.”
The man laughed, muscled chest heaving. “None taken. I get a lot of questions. Truth is, I pride myself in looking a little odd.”
“I… see.” Stephan looked the man over, trying to figure him out. The blades jutting from his arms led him to a conclusion. “Ah. You’re a powerbrawler, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. Used to be a pretty good one, too.”
“I’ve never seen one in person before. You look… different to how you do on the scryer.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. People are happy to watch us beat the life out of each other, but as soon as they see us walking the street like anyone else, they sneer and whisper. Once they think they’re out of earshot, of course.” He swept the rest of his drink and stifled a burp with his fist.
“Can I get you another, Mr…?” Stephan asked.
“Name’s Rath Crawlin, and no thanks.” He held up a hand. “No offense to you, bartender, that Arcana thing was tasty. I have a match tonight, you see. Last of my career, if I play my cards right. I just wanted a drink to steel my nerves.”
“You don’t strike me as Tumbani, Mr. Crawlin,” Stephan said, observing the man’s light skin tone and accented Elandran. “You came all the way here for one match?”
Crawlin nodded. “I was invited. The Free Cities have a decent powerbrawl scene, but it’s mostly in the illegal circuit. The governor of Tumba injected a load of cash into the operation here to invite some proper talent from the east and west for a series of matches. I guess he wants to legitimize the sport in the Free Cities. It seems all they could afford was a has-been like me.”
“Chaesim’s probably trying to raise morale by staging some big-name matches. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the Free Cities haven’t been in the best shape lately.”
Crawlin nodded. “You could say that. Concordian blockades made it a bitch to get here. No offense, but I’d rather get back home as quick as possible.”
“Sounds like you’re not too thrilled to be here.”
“That would be correct. What a man wouldn’t do for his family, though.”
Stephan smiled. “You’ve got kids?” He eyed Yin at the back of the bar, arguing with a drunk merchant likely three times her weight.
“Two sons,” Crawlin said. “Light of my life, those little bastards. They’re waiting on me back in the LIS with my husband. They’ll be watching the match on the scryer. Only took this match so I can send them to university with the winnings when the time comes.”
“I admire that, Mr. Crawlin. I hope you win.”
Amaline came up to the bar and deposited a round of empty glasses. “I’ve got an order for two Swift Deaths.”
Stephan nodded and set to work. One part terradine, one part Sunburst Orange in a tall glass on the rocks, times two. Amaline took the drinks and sped off.
“Why don’t you come watch the match?” Crawlin asked. He dug into his snug pant pockets and dug out a handful paper stubs. “Promoter gave me some free tickets, but I haven’t got any friends here, so I haven’t had a reason to hand them out.”
Stephan accepted the tickets with a grateful nod. “Thank you, Mr. Crawlin. I might take you up on that. It could be exciting to see my first powerbrawl match.”
Crawlin laughed and clapped Stephan’s shoulder, so hard his knees shook. “That’s the spirit! Now, speaking of which, I should probably get to the arena.”
“One for the road?” the now plastered female pirate asked from the seat over, raising a shot of rum in his direction.
“Why not.” Crawlin swept the shot, thanked the woman, and left.
Stephan was left looking down at the tickets in his hand.
It could make for a good team-building experience, I suppose.
*****
“So, what do you think?” Stephan asked.
He was cleaning the counter with a rag. Amaline was cleaning the tables. Yin watched him from atop the counter, making his work just a little more difficult as he had to wipe around her.
“About what?” Yin asked.
Stephan nodded towards Amaline, who had her back turned.
“Oh, her. She’s alright, I guess. Seems nice enough. I didn’t see her steal anything.”
“Meaning?”
Yin rolled her eyes. “Hire her if you want. I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
Stephan finished off the counter with a spritz of cleaning fluid and a final wipe-down of the surface, making it shine like new. Sticking the rag through his belt, he walked over to Amaline, who had already finished some time ago but was redoing it, scrubbing imaginary blemishes on one of the tabletops.
“Amaline,” Stephan said.
The woman jerked and stood up straight, facing him. “Yes, boss?” Her tone was urgent with just a hint of panic, like a fresh recruit expecting to be cussed out by their drill sergeant. Lips twitched into an uneasy smile.
“That was a neat trick you showed earlier.” He held up his hand and made a buzzing sound for emphasis. “You’re not a mage, are you?”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that. I’m not smart enough to be a mage or anything.” She giggled nervously. “It’s actually one of my modifications. Here, I’ll show you.” She held up her palm, the skin of which was ribbed and rubbery. “Touch it.”
Stephan frowned. “You’re not going to…?”
“It’s not dangerous,” Amaline assured him.
Stephan touched the palm of her hand with his index finger. An electric rush went through his hand and up his arm. Not painful, but enough to set his hairs standing. He quickly withdrew his finger.
“I can run a bit of electricity through my hand, which I used to please my clients better. If they got mean…” Her hand suddenly alighted with arcs of crackling energy. “…I used it to defend myself. Pretty neat, huh?”
“Neat,” Stephan agreed. “Hey, about tonight…”
Her strained smile finally broke. “Listen, boss, about that glass I dropped, I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’m not usually clumsy like that. And I’ll get faster at taking orders and stuff, I’ve just never done anything like it before so it was all a bit new. I think most of the patrons liked me, apart from that one guy I zapped, but he was… I mean, you told me… I’m sorry if I went too far. I got angry. I shouldn’t have.”
“You’re hired,” Yin whispered in her ear, suddenly right next to her. “So stop talking.”
Amaline stammered, looking for more words, glancing between the two of them. Eventually, she calmed herself. “Wait, really? I’m hired?”
Stephan nodded. “Once we agree on a salary and I’ve drawn up a contract, yeah. If you want to reconsider, I suggest you do so now.”
“Yay!” Amaline gathered both Stephan and Yin into a hug, squeezing them tight. “I love you guys! Thank you so much! I’ll do a great job, I promise!”
Yin wriggled out of the embrace, leaving Stephan smothered by a pair of breasts of life-threatening proportions. Pulling himself away, he sucked in a deep breath and straightened out his suit.
“I got some tickets for a powerbrawl game tonight, starting in just an hour or two,” Stephan said. He fished the stubs out of his breast pocket and held them up. “What say we wrap up the cleaning and go catch the game?”
“Why not,” Yin said.
“Ooh, isn’t powerbrawl kinda scary?” Amaline asked.
“I couldn’t tell you—I’ve never caught a full match before,” Stephan said. “How about it? Should we give it a shot?”
Ah, good old deathsports. Can't have a good story without them.