Andrea Maria Nash (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
masterofgunfu) wrote2014-07-25 08:26 am
masterofgunfu) wrote2014-07-25 08:26 am
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Thursday morning - At the Arena
The next morning I stood outside what had once been called the Cooler, Atlanta's ice skating rink. It was brick and oval in shape and rose at least four stories, stretching into the morning sky for what seemed like forever. Buildings this size were rare in Atlanta. Magic had a way of eating and collapsing anything past two stories.
A hundred yards from the Arena was a wooden tower and perched atop was a set of mounted machine guns and cheiroballistra. Tall enough to cover nearly the whole of the parking lot and close enough to cover the roof of the Arena. I also spied the distinctive red and black uniforms of the Red Guard. In the highly competitive field of mercenary work, there were few corporations and among them, the Red Guard were the best. From every report I've read and every encounter I've had with them, they've earned their pay and reputation. Looks like blood sport paid well though, as the Red Guard charged a premium.
OK, enough rumination. I stepped over a two-foot wide, fluorescent while line (obviously marking where the Red Guard's responsibility began and ended) and headed for the service entrance. I doubted the fighters were expected to enter through the front doors.
I quickly found the check in and gave my name and team to the woman working the checkin desk; Red Guard, again, and someone high in the chain of command, if I didn't miss my guess.
"'The Fools'? Is that a description of your team's intelligence or your need to amuse?" She asked me with a completely blank face.
I smiled, completely friendly-like. "No clue. I wasn't part of that decision."
"Fair enough. Go through those doors and I'll have someone meet you to escort you to your team's rooms," She said, eyeing my three duffles worth of weapons. "And just to be clear, there is no fighting outside of the sand. During a match, you guys can try and kill each other all you want. Outside of one, stay out of each other's way. That clear?"
"Crystal."
A hundred yards from the Arena was a wooden tower and perched atop was a set of mounted machine guns and cheiroballistra. Tall enough to cover nearly the whole of the parking lot and close enough to cover the roof of the Arena. I also spied the distinctive red and black uniforms of the Red Guard. In the highly competitive field of mercenary work, there were few corporations and among them, the Red Guard were the best. From every report I've read and every encounter I've had with them, they've earned their pay and reputation. Looks like blood sport paid well though, as the Red Guard charged a premium.
OK, enough rumination. I stepped over a two-foot wide, fluorescent while line (obviously marking where the Red Guard's responsibility began and ended) and headed for the service entrance. I doubted the fighters were expected to enter through the front doors.
I quickly found the check in and gave my name and team to the woman working the checkin desk; Red Guard, again, and someone high in the chain of command, if I didn't miss my guess.
"'The Fools'? Is that a description of your team's intelligence or your need to amuse?" She asked me with a completely blank face.
I smiled, completely friendly-like. "No clue. I wasn't part of that decision."
"Fair enough. Go through those doors and I'll have someone meet you to escort you to your team's rooms," She said, eyeing my three duffles worth of weapons. "And just to be clear, there is no fighting outside of the sand. During a match, you guys can try and kill each other all you want. Outside of one, stay out of each other's way. That clear?"
"Crystal."
no subject
Later, after Curran was through chewing everyone out, I sat at my bench cleaning a Browning A5, the pieces spread out before me on a white cloth. Seeing Kate return, I waved and she came over to sit beside me so I picked up the can of gun oil to give her room.
"Where is everybody?" She asked.
"Hiding," I replied. "Except for Doolittle. He was excused from the chewing-out due to having been kidnapped. He's napping now like he doesn't have a care in the world. I got to hear all sorts of interesting stuff through the door."
"Give."
I offered up a sly smile. "First, I got to listen to Jim's 'it's all my fault; I did it all by myself' speech. Then I got to listen to Derek's 'it's all my fault and I did it all myself' speech. Then Curran promised that the next person who wanted to be a martyr would get to be one. Then Raphael made a very growling speech about how he was here for a blood debt. It was his right to have restitution for the injury caused to the friend of the boudas; it was in the damn clan charter on such and such page. And if Curran wanted to have an issue with it, they could take it outside. It was terribly dramatic and ridiculous. I love it."
"Then Dali told him that she was sick and tired of being treated like she was made of glass and she wanted blood and to kick ass."
"So what did he say?" Kate inquired.
"He didn't say anything for about a minute and then he chewed them out. He told Derek that he'd been irresponsible with Livie's life, and that if he was going to rescue somebody, the least he could do is to have a workable plan, instead of a poorly thought-out mess that backfired and broke just about every Pack law and got his face smashed in. He told Dali that if she wanted to be taken seriously, she had to accept responsibility for her own actions instead of pretending to be weak and helpless every time she got in trouble and that this was definitely not the venue to prove one's toughness. Apparently he didn't think her behavior was cute when she was fifteen and he's not inclined to tolerate it now that she's twenty-eight."
Kate started laughing, so I continued. "He told Raphael that the blood debt overrode Pack law only in cases of murder or life-threatening injury and quoted the page of the clan charter and the section number where it could be found. He said that frivolous challenges to the alpha also violated Pack law and were punishable by isolation. It was an awesome smack down. They had no asses left when he was done."
I was done cleaning by now, so I began to reassemble the automatic shotgun. "Then he sentenced the three of them and himself to eight weeks of hard labor, building the north wing addition to the Keep, and dismissed them. They ran out of there like their hair was on fire."
"He sentenced himself?" Kate asked.
"He's broken Pack law by participating in our silliness, apparently."
Kate shrugged with her eyebrows and asked, "And Jim?"
"Oh, he got a special chewing-out after everybody else was dismissed. It was very quiet and angry conversation, and I didn't hear most of it. I heard the end, though—he got three months of Keep building. Also, when he opened the door to leave, Curran told him very causally that if Jim wanted to pick fights with his future mate, he was welcome to do so, but he should keep in mind that Curran wouldn't come and rescue him when you beat his ass. You should've seen Jim's face."
"His what?" Kate asked, the blood draining from her face.
"His mate. M-A-T-E." I said with far too much glee for a faithful best friend.
Kate started cursing.
"I thought that would make your day. And now you're stuck with him in here for three days and you get to fight together in the Arena. It's so romantic. Like a honeymoon."
I was rescued from Kate strangling me by Raphael walking into the room to announce, "The Reaper bout is about to start. Curran said to tell you that your creep's going to fight."