A day after my decision to join the gang in a more official capacity, the Lieutenant, Frasier, went off to make preparations and spread the ‘exciting news’ to the rest of the gang upper command. Apparently, there’s quite more of a hierarchy to Invincibill’s gang than I thought.
The Lieutenant may be Invincibill’s right-hand man, but he’s functioning as more of a prime minister of the members. He can be appointed and sacked at the will of the Roundtable below him, but more often than not, it seems that the Lieutenant has his way of making sure the group bend to his will than he to theirs.
Said group is made up of strong and reliable meta-humans that in turn manage sectors of captains like Rey.
A day after he left, I could at last say with my chest puffed out that my powers had returned to me in full. Once again halt the flow of time around me.
Despite the fact that I'd taken the creative liberty in delivering the news to my wardens - Tied all their shoelaces together and watched them fall and trip over each other while I laugh having unpaused time - all they could talk and urge on was that they had to call Frasier.
I untied them and let them get to their call, the result of which was my swift hauling in preparations for an opening to meet the fabled Invincibill.
And here I am, suited up in the best clothes I have, carted away in a black luxurious car.
I’m saddled with Rey and Rex as Austin had to get on with some ‘other’ business. But for the occasion it works fine, apparently, the sort of event we’re headed to has a culture. It’s a gathering of the Roundtable to watch, entertain, and judge the fate of someone within the gang.
But the gang has long grown large and wide in its size since the time this became a thing. So now, rather than it being the entire gang, it’s all the captains and a single other tag along from their branch.
Reason enough to prompt a gathering like this rarely ever pops up now, a lot of the stress is spared the thought and handled privately. Initiations, exiling and planning.
Still, despite the short summoning of every captain, it seems none fail to comply. The result is a high tensioned fog around this part of the city as everyone dreads the worse.
The drive felt like it took hours, but we’re finally here, and I’m free to lull about the venue.
The venue isn’t some underground large, dark lit bunker, but a large, glittering ‘Museum of Art and Natural History’.
A strange place to gather that's for sure, but at the same time understandable since it’s the organisation's echelons. It's also refreshing to not tunnel underground for once.
Rex and Rey keep to me as we aimlessly wandered about the extravagant place with high walls and deep, bell curving roofs. However, I can tell that there is more to our motions and Rey is leading us into meeting the people he needs to give curt, brief nods at.
Swaying for a moment more, to the point where we are genuinely wandering around aimlessly, as we wait for whatever's happening next.
Then I notice something. The Museum...it's almost empty.
It’s a large place so it's hard not to notice when such a touring date sight bellies up. It soon gets to the point that I can hear the annoying squeaking of my sneakers against the hardwood.
And then, a sudden influx.
In a blink two men in suits summon up from the light, feet skating across the floor as they approach. And then two more men, and another, and two women, and another, until the Museum is once again bustling with hum and activity.
Including us, I’d say there are about thirty-odd Captains and members here. A lot of them aren't dressed in the say...respectable attire for the esteemed establishment we're in, but then there are the ones who do the barest minimum and have weaponry as part of their clothing.
In fact, one set of Captain and normie have on Kevlar suits.
It's chaotic as they reunite with each other, some having good relations by the way they greet, and others already throwing punches. And there's the set that only watch and bet on winners.
Rey makes sure I'm standing behind him at all times, even as he reunites with some of his old buddies, a hard smile on his lip.
The ruckus of fun, greetings and growls comes to a quieting halt when a line of five people strut in.
A young woman with her hair on fire, or her hair is fire, I'm not sure yet. Another woman, but dark, sullen and reeking of a death. A man with a large grin, playboy blue suit and tie as well as a backpack he keeps particularly close. A typical super strength looking man, and a kid, a teen, perhaps no older than me strutting with his eyes on his feet.
A path forms and the powerful figures begin to lead the prim and proper Captains and normies deeper into the Museum.
This includes us. We're let through by the other Captain's so we're first in line behind the impressive five metas that lead the way.
We journey deep, through a dark, damp tunnel that somehow leads to an old rickety elevator door that travels further into the underground of the Museum.
I was wrong about it not being underground…
The Five go in first and then us. Rey has me moving forward even when the rest of the Captains and their normies file into seats, fitting in and playing nice as best as they can.
When Rex, Rey and I descend, it begins to tick in my head why exactly I was rushed here the moment I got my powers back.
A colosseum of metal and brick looms ahead. Peeking in I can make out the gladiator pit, still stained with blood.
Gasping, I immediately turn around, but Rey blocks my path, “You got to do this kid, it’s the next step and this is what you wanted.” He pops out a speech, reciting it as though he'd prepared for this.
I can’t help thinking him ridiculous, “What are you even talking about? I never asked to kill anyone!”
A single brow raises and a head tilt he asks, “Woah, who said anything about killing anyone? We need everyone we can get. You’re going to knock him out at best.”
“Oh?” I start, anxiety alleviated.
He nods, “Oh. And by the way, they will try to kill you though.”
“What?”
***
The congregated members of the gang make haste in shoving me down the steps of the pit, yes, a gladiator pit.
The circumference of the pit is barred and lined with cages, within most of them there’s nothing to see, but in three of them, there lie foul-smelling creatures.
The beasts are contorted to the shapes of familiar predatory animals, wolf, bear and a hawk. Invincibill’s private collection of exotic mutated beasts.
Despite my current plight, I can’t help the first thing that comes to mind is, What the hell is a gang leader doing with exotic, mutant animals?
It isn’t a resource I’d expect them to acquire. Weapons, combat bots or something mechanically terrifying sure, but not tar-skin mutant animals.
The deeper I go the more it feels like I never knew this world at all. But who am I kidding? I was a drifter lucky to tag at Neil’s coattails, I got a fortunate, but wholly incomplete view of Xoxia’s criminal world.
The cage shuts behind me as I stagger out into it from their manhandling, trying for my composure I look through the crowd of thirty Captains and Normie's, searching for mine. Rey and Rex.
Did they know about this? Of course, they did.
Sharply, every one of them jumps to their feet as the five from before walkthrough. They arrange themselves across a booth and soon after a dark figure rises from within the Emperor's Box. Step by step I can make every move from the bop of their shadow until they come into view.
Looming above us all, in the heights of the colosseum veranda is a simple-looking man. Dark brown hair and a face aged well into its forties, from here I can make out that he isn’t thin, the velvet cloak resting on his back barely fits over him.
At last, in person, Invincibill, an average looking threat.
A pin-drop silence blankets us all and we wait for his word.
In a deep baritone, he gives it, “So, this is the one?” His voice holds a depth of impatience and intrigue, “Took him a moment to heal, eh, Frasier?”
The Lieutenant behind him shuffles.
“If he passes this moment, you’ll have to give him some endurance training. Now be quick about it.”
“SIR!” The booming chorus erupts, near-deafening me with the structure's echoes.
In unison near thirty of the attendees sit, except for Rex who like me has never been here before and scatters about confused for a moment, a moment long enough to capture their location.
There, Rex and Rey sit, staring back down at me their brows knitted and lips thinned. Unhelpful.
“The Roundtable will convene on a representative among their ranks. The challenger remains.” The Lieutenant booms, pulling my attention to the five now in a circle, whispering to themselves.
A lump forms in my throat, I try to swallow but my mouth is a desert.
They want me to fight one of them? To the death? To my death?
I don’t get the chance to mull anymore, as Lieutenant steps forward and the five disperse back into a line once more, “A Representative is chosen, Challenger may not kill. Representative must dispense!”
Frasier screams out what I figure to be the rules to this nut fest and a cheering roar erupts the moment a thunderous figure crashes in front of me.
The dust clears from the landing and I can see my opponent and possible executioner.
It’s one of the five, the one with an obvious ability for super strength. For some reason, he’s even larger than before.
The pumping in my chest goes into overdrive as with each step the man's clothes bulge and rip, and with each breath, the crowds bet and cry out for blood.
It's raw and primal much more than I imagined it to be than I imagined any of them to be. Desperate, my eyes search for a familiar face, I’d had them a moment ago but now they're lost in the screams and in the rush of adrenaline flooding through me with each frantic pump.
I find them, Rex standing with his hands on his head and mouth ajar. Rey’s eyes are fixed on me, as though they’d never stopped watching me. His stern, urging look tells me that this is out of his hands, that I’m all alone.
That once again I’ll need to fend for myself.
“Eyes front!” A growling voice barks, startling me into a jump.
Behind me, while my eyes preoccupied themselves with desperate pleading, the member of the five chosen to deliver me to my death is closing in.
He glares down at me, a few feet away. He stands three feet taller and thicker than he was, clothes hanging onto him by the threads and a red steaming sheen to his exposed skin.
He frowns, almost hesitating as he tells me, “Defend yourself.”
With nothing else to say his feet shatter the ground as charges at me, thundering forward at speeds I know should he slam into me I’d be crushed.
Pause! Pause! Pause!
I settle a stranglehold on the flow of time around me, mere moments from being pulverised by the man’s outstretched fists, my chest a few inches away from it.
Letting out a breath of relief and taking in the sludging air of the bubble of time around me with a pound of greed. What the fuck?!
Shuffling away from the man frozen in his position I’m startled to still hear the cheers and boos of the crowd above.
My bubble isn’t large enough. Barely anyone is frozen. But the person trying to kill me is, I’m grateful for that.
I take a second to calm my racing heart and come to terms with the fact that I’m watched. It’s difficult for a moment, I’ve always been alone when I pause time and pop caps, the visual of my sins mine alone.
But now, I’m being watched and judged on how I react, on what I do next. Already, I have the upper hand. I can hear confusion and exclamations of disbelief from the crowd, and a clear look of interest and concern on the faces of the remainder of the roundtable.
All I have to do is...is hurt him, for them to see. For them to know that I AM...that I am.
It takes me a moment too long to remind myself why any of this is necessary, the hungry audience already began to roar with boos.
Appeasing them, I begin to move. Without a decent weapon, I can’t hope to threaten the man. I can't strangle him with my bare hands because I haven’t the strength, and time paused so he isn't breathing in the first place.
The only advantage I have against him is with time frozen, and I need to find a way to threaten significant harm that these nutjobs let me out.
In the corner of my eye, I spot a weapon rack I’d previously missed to see when I was shoved in. The rack holds a spear, a sword and a mace. Seems the opponents are more often the mutant animals.
Still, finding and examining the rack gives me an idea. Stripping the rack of all other weapons save the spear and drag it as is through the rough, sandy dirt floor to my foe.
The booing comes to a withering halt as I set the rack against the man and his frozen body, the spear sticking and digging into his chest.
And then, when it’s quiet as night in the previously booming pit, I raise my hand, my fingers set to snap and glaring at Invincibill.
