Victor of Tucson

Chapter 6: Afterparty

Yund practically yanked Victor out of the ring when he finally moved to climb out. He pulled Victor up into a laughing hug and slapped his back several times. “By the Lady’s swingin’ tits! That was well done, boy! You and that old Ghelli made your Boss several sacks of beads!” He reached down for Sarl’s hand and pulled him out of the pit. “Come on, men! You can rest and watch the rest of the matches. I’ll even buy you each an ale. Dead Gods, but it was fun to see Tarlen’s face when his bitch died.”

Yund turned to start stomping his way back to their roped-off area, but Victor paused, looking out over the pit to the crumpled bodies lying within. He hadn’t cared for the blue guys, but that didn’t mean he wanted them dead. Then there was the little brown corpse of the otter-woman, one arm stretched to the side, her face turned forlornly up at the dim, smoke-hazed ceiling. Lastly, he looked at the body of Thessa-dak, the first and only person Victor had ever killed. His heart lurched toward his throat momentarily. He’d killed someone. He stared at her long, red-fleshed body, the darker holes on her back, and the big muddy-maroon puddle that had spread underneath her. He shook his head, turned, and followed after Sarl and Yund.

When they got back to their area, Victor noticed that many of Yund’s prisoners were gone. He scanned the twenty or so faces sitting and standing around behind the rope, but he didn’t see Yrella or Vullu. “Hey, Boss, are Yrella and Vullu fighting?”

“That’s right, runt. If you see Urt or Ponda, they can tell you what pits.” He turned and started talking to another member of the Rusty Nail’s staff, writing something on a clipboard as Yund rattled off some numbers. Victor looked up and down the line, but couldn’t see Ponda or Urt, so he started looking around the nearby pits, but the crowds were thick, and it was impossible to make them out. He decided to just wait around by the ropes, hoping they’d be back by to pick up or drop off a fighter.

“That was good teamwork, Victor,” Sarl said, walking toward him with a big wooden mug in each hand. “Boss said we could have one, so I picked these up on his credit.” He smiled, and Victor took the mug he held out.

“Damn, thanks,” Victor took a sip of the stuff, and it tasted like warm, flat beer, but in that moment, it was one of the best things he’d ever tasted. He took a long drink and sighed. “Man, who would think some warm beer could be so damn good?”

“It’s not the beer that’s good; it’s your hard work and your joy in being alive - they’d make anything taste good right now. To living!” He said, knocking his mug against Victor’s, and they both took another long pull. Some of the other fighters gave them sour looks, but Victor pointedly avoided eye contact.

“The hell do you two think you're doing?” Ponda waddled toward them, his two center teeth jutting out of his half-open, scowling mouth.

“Easy, Boss. Big Boss said we could have an ale for winning our match,” Sarl said, a lazy smile on his narrow face.

“Ha, he musta won some good bets.” Ponda shrugged.

“Hey, Ponda, Boss said we could watch some matches. Can you tell me where Vullu and Yrella are fighting?” Victor asked, noticing a slight buzz already hitting him.

“Vullu is in seven, but I don’t know about Yrella; Urt took her.”

“Alright, thanks!”

“Hang on, boys. If you’re going off to watch fights, then I gotta collar you. I only got two collars with me, so don’t be gone long in case Boss wants to let some others watch. Just watch a fight or two.” Seemingly by magic, he produced two black metal collars that he held out. Sarl backed away, though.

“I think I’ll just wait here. I don’t really want to watch any fights anyway, and I hate the idea of wearing a collar.”

“Who do you think you’re fooling? Collar or not, you belong to Boss.” Ponda snorted, smirking. Sarl just shrugged, raised his mug to Victor, then turned and walked back under the rope.

“Well, I wanna see Vullu fight, so go ahead, slap it on me.”

“Smart lad,” Ponda said, snapping the cold, heavy collar around his neck. Victor didn’t notice feeling any different.

“What’s it do, anyway?”

“If you disappear, Boss can use a linked amulet to make it so hot it melts through your neck.”

“Fucking hell,” Victor spat but then turned and scanned the pit signs for number seven. He saw six and figured seven would be close, so he worked his way over there. It seemed like most of the races in this world were generally smaller than the average human, but every now and then, he’d bump into a person that just seemed larger than life. They were physically imposing, but also, a certain presence seemed to bleed out of them that just made Victor feel insignificant and small. He tried to avoid those people simply because they made him feel shitty and because he figured that if he felt that way, his instincts were trying to tell him something, so he’d treat it like a warning.

He had finished his ale by the time he found pit seven, and he tried to surreptitiously make his way toward the edge so he could see in. Most spectators had to jostle for space on the floor, but a few sat in little bleacher-like stands and had an unobstructed view from one side of the pit. Victor knew better than trying to get into the stands, seeing as he was wearing a fucking slave collar, but he managed to worm his way close enough to the edge to see over the heads of a couple of blue guys who were shouting and cheering excitedly. When he finally saw into the pit, he could see why - Vullu was punching the shit out of a big Shadeni, and there were three other mutilated corpses in the pit. Victor saw discarded axes, knives, and a long pole with a small sword blade affixed to one end lying on the sandy ground. As the Shadeni staggered and fell against the pit wall, Vullu didn’t back off, and he didn’t pick up a weapon; he just kept pummeling him in the head. He smashed him into the side of the pit until golden motes started to coalesce around the bodies, and four streams of Energy slammed into Vullu. He stood, bloody fists in the air, and howled.

Victor started to cheer for Vullu, but then it hit him that he had just watched another guy beat the fuck out of someone until they died. He was looking at four corpses. Again. It all started to feel a little too crazy for him, so he turned and made his way back to the roped-off area where his fellow prisoners were waiting for their turns to fight or die. His earlier euphoria had faded with a suddenness that left him reeling. When he slipped under the ropes, Ponda wandered by and took the collar off his neck, admonishing him to stay put behind the rope. Victor stood there, looking around the hazy, noisy warehouse at all the strange people and listening to people screaming and roaring, and he wondered if this could possibly be real.

“You won!” Yrella’s voice cut through his inner turmoil, and when she grabbed his shoulder, jostling it in excitement, he couldn’t stop the smile that turned up the corners of his mouth, especially when he looked at her and saw the huge raccoon-eye bruises around her eyes. The dark bruises looked positively black through her red skin, and he almost laughed aloud.

“Yeah, but what the fuck happened to you?” She reached a hand up and tenderly touched the flesh under her left eye.

“It shows?”

“Oh yeah! You look like a raccoon.”

“What’s a raccoon?”

“Uh, a small animal, but it has black fur around its eyes.”

“Ugh, that asshole pounded my face like seven times before I slipped free.”

“Jesus! Fucking prick, but you got him, right?”

“I did! But tell me about your fight; Vullu and I thought you were doomed!”

“Psshh,” Victor made the leaky tire sound, then laughed. “Well, me and that winged guy, Sarl, ended up making a pretty good team.”

“Winged guy? He’s a Ghelli. Now that you’ve survived a Pit Night, I’m going to have to expand your education.”

“Anyway, yeah, we managed to double team this big red bitch….” he trailed off, then corrected himself, “er, we managed to beat this really tough, respectable, Shadeni woman.”

“Is that how you think of us? Red people? I guess to someone new here, that would stand out the most. What do you call the Ardeni? Blue people?”

“Uh, is that what they’re called? Thanks, Yrella. I’m not trying to sound like an idiot, but sometimes that’s what comes out. I spend too much time with my buddies, I think.”

“Well, you used to. Now you’re stuck with us.” She smiled and slapped his shoulder, and Victor swallowed the lump that had stuck in his throat at her words and forced himself to smile back. They stood quietly for a few minutes, Yrella slowly massaging the skin around the bruises on her face. A few minutes later, Vullu arrived, and they all congratulated each other on their victories again. Victor zoned out a lot after that, and the hours kind of blended together while they waited for all of Yund’s fights to finish up. It was after midnight when they were all chained together and led back to the Wagon Wheel. Victor counted only twenty-eight fighters in the line going back, which meant that twelve had died at the Rusty Nail.

When they got back to the Wagon Wheel, the last thing Victor felt like doing was partying. He wanted to crawl into a corner, bury his head in some hay and go to sleep, hopefully dreaming about someplace other than here, about doing things other than killing. Yund had other ideas, though - his bets had gone very well, and he wanted to share the wealth, such as it was. He’d sent Ponda back ahead of the fighters, and when they came into the big exercise hall, there were three barrels of ale and a tabletop covered with meat, cheese, and bread. The fighters cheered and rushed forward, and Victor followed along with Yrella and Vullu.

Victor had been drunk a few times in his life. It wasn’t all that hard for a guy to find a party where no one was checking IDs in Tucson; it was a University town, after all, and Victor had made a lot of friends on the wrestling team, being on varsity since he was a freshman. At that moment, if he couldn’t fall into a sleep coma, he figured a drunken stupor would do just fine, so he grabbed a tin cup and set to it, downing three full cups of the bitter, warm ale before Yrella pulled him away from the table.

“Trying to blackout the night’s events?” she asked wryly.

“Easy to see through me, huh?” His head was buzzing pretty hard already, and he always talked too much when he’d had some beers, so he tried to really think about his words before letting them come out of his mouth.

“It’s normal, Victor. A lot of the people put into the pits aren’t killers - just criminals or people caught on the wrong side of a war. Me and Vullu were ready for this place, though - we were up to a lot of bad stuff, to be honest.”

“Well, you seem pretty cool to me.”

“Easy to be ‘cool’ when we get paid for it.” She shrugged.

“Hey! You’re using my words now. That means we’re friends.” Victor nudged her with his shoulder, grinning down at her.

“Hah, don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. Sure, we’re friends, though, unless Yund finds a way to make money putting us in the pit against each other, anyway.” When she grinned at him this time, she was sure to show her long, sharp canines. Victor knew she was teasing, but still, a little cold shiver crossed over the nape of his neck because he realized there was a vein of truth in what she said. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind, though. Instead, he admired the way her lips curled up and the little crinkles around her eyes. She took a step back.

“Easy, kid. Just enjoy being alive for now, eh? Drink a few more cups, but just be ready to work your ass off tomorrow; Yund doesn’t give days off.” She turned and walked away, presumably to find Vullu and hang out with him. Victor went back to the table, a little annoyed that she was treating him like a kid but well aware that he wasn’t exactly a match for her. He shrugged and filled his cup.

He glanced around the big exercise hall and noticed that, while they were being given some liberties, Yund was careful not to let his guard down—he had Ponda sitting on a stool next to the big open doors, and Victor could see a couple more of his lackeys lurking around outside. One of them was smoking something from a pipe, but they looked very alert. Not for the first time, Victor studied the walls, looking for another way out of the place, a way he could slip through some boards or anything. There was no way he meant to spend the rest of his life in this shit hole, but he couldn’t see an easy way out. He took a big gulp of his drink while trying to imagine a way past Ponda.

“Hey, Victor!” Sarl approached him from the other side of the table. “Why not come and sit with me and a couple of friends from my cage? I’d like to introduce you, seeing as I already told them what a great team you and I were!” The thin, wan-looking man looked different to Victor; he wasn’t sure if it was because of an actual change or if it was that Victor had seen him fight and knew that under that unassuming appearance, he was a tough bastard.

“Alright, man, let’s get wasted.”

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