For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry - Part 2 (Love and Deepspace)
Part 2 is up now! Xavier gets himself into a cage fight right before the angst kicks up.
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Read Part One | Read Part Three
(Based on the Tomorrow’s Catch-22 AU) After discovering that Xavier is the infamous SSS-Class Praedator Hermit, Ariadne starts going on missions with him in secret. But when a mission leads to Xavier’s identity being exposed to the LCBI everything crashes down. Xavier’s only choice now is to return to his family to be used as a lab rat, leaving Ariadne to figure out how to save him.
Read on Ao3
LaDS Whump Masterpost
LaDS Masterpost
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We headed toward the apartment Xavier shared with Jeremiah, hoping he had found something useful. The balcony of the apartment was covered in a veritable jungle of plants and flowers, a lush paradise.
Jeremiah was locked away in his room when we got there, likely hunched over his computer. I looked around the small apartment as Xavier knocked on his door, seeing a tiny lab set up on the dining table.
I went over to look at all the beakers and vials.
“Ah, don’t touch that, please!”
Jeremiah popped out of the room, dark circles under his eyes as he hurried past Xavier over to the table.
“I’m not going to touch it,” I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. “Do you have any information on the enhancers?”
“Yeah, I do, actually,” Jeremiah said grimly as he picked up the vial from the table.
“I did some tests on the components, and the base elements are like a fingerprint.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I can tell who made them by looking at the core components of the recipe—I’m pretty familiar with it,” Jeremiah replied, turning to Xavier with a slightly apologetic look.
Xavier pressed his lips into a tight line. “Philo.”
“Yeah.”
“So, it is them.”
“Looks like it,” Jeremiah said and tapped the side of the vial. “Also, it looks like there were only 5 of these samples made. This one is listed as 2 of 5.”
I rubbed my chin. “So, our missing seller has more of these to go around?”
“Yeah, that’s not all, though,” Jeremiah said, beckoning us toward his room. The lights were off, with only the glow of his computer monitors illuminating the area. He sat at the desk and brought up the footage from the club the night before, showing the buyer fleeing from the back room. He paused the video.
“I finally got some facial recognition results,” he said. “And I found a match with a researcher employed by Philo.”
Xavier leaned over to look more closely at the image. “He’s not someone I recognize, so he must be new.”
Jeremiah nodded. “He’s only been employed for the last six months. My guess is he was looking to make a quick buck.”
“So, wait…he’s not a Praedator then?” I asked.
Jeremiah shook his head. “As far as I’m aware, no.”
Xavier hummed in contemplation. “Presumably he’s hiding out in the Southern District now.”
“And if he has more of these vials, he might do another sale within the next few days.” I turned to Jeremiah. “Jeremiah, is there any way you can hack into Philo and see how many of the prototypes were stolen?”
He grinned and started typing away. “Oh, definitely. Just give me a moment.”
I nodded. “We’ll leave you to it then. We need to get back to the office.”
“I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Xavier and I headed back to the car.
“So, we need to track this guy down, preferably before he sells any more of the enhancers,” I said. “We just need to figure out where to find him, and how to pretend we don’t know about him already.”
Xavier grinned. “Should I have Hermit send you another tip once Jeremiah finds more information?”
I smack his ribs. “I think Hermit would be better off lying low for now.”
He frowned. “The Enforcers won’t get anywhere asking around the Southern District. You should know that.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but with Rachel and the others looking for possible buyers among the known Praedator dealers, we might be able to parse out the next target for our rogue researcher.” I got into the car and waited for Xavier to follow before turning it on. “Then we can decide if having the culprit show up on LCBI’s doorstep in the middle of the night will be the best option.”
Xavier smiled with a nod. “And if we can’t find a good lead?”
“Then you and I will continue our investigation after hours.”
***
By the time we got back to the office, Rachael and her team had found some decent leads from our files that I took to the briefing with the other division captains.
After agreeing on how we would share the work load, and getting the okay from the chief, I headed back to the bullpen, finding that Grant and Levi were back, eating lunch at their desk with everyone else.
“Anything to report from the club?” I asked.
“Nothing really, Captain,” Grant said. “We talked to the owner but he said he had no prior knowledge of Caliban’s intended deal last night, and when he showed us the footage from the CCTV cameras, it had been corrupted.”
I hummed, glancing briefly at Xavier eating his instant noodles as I went over to the kitchenette to boil water. “Maybe it really was Hermit then.”
“Whether it was or wasn’t, there was no sign of our mystery man, alive or dead,” Levi added. “So we can only assume he’s on the run.”
“Are we sure that the club owner wasn’t working with Hermit to orchestrate the set-up?” I asked to keep a little heat on the club.
“It’s something to consider,” Grant shrugged. “But we’re not going to get more out of that owner unless you want us to bring him in officially.”
I pressed my lips together as I sat down at my desk to wait for my noodles to finish cooking. “Put a pin in that for now. We have other leads to follow. I trust your gut, Grant. If you don’t think there’s any more to find at the club, then we’ll put our efforts elsewhere.” It was pointless worrying about them looking into something else until Jeremiah had solid leads for uus.
The man saluted with half a sandwich. “Sounds good, Captain.”
As I ate, I began to send messages to all of my informants, seeing if they could give us any more information. Jeremiah might be a good insight into Philo and our missing man, but I needed people on the ground in the Southern District who might know where he was hiding. He was an outsider, and would definitely be easy to spot.
The afternoon crawled by with mostly a lot of phone calls as we tried to narrow down the best candidates. Grant and Levi went out again to look into a few of the promising leads and I drank cold coffee as I poured over the information my informants sent in, sightings and hearsay both, trying to put a location on our missing man.
Xavier sat at his adjoining desk, and I glanced up as his phone rang, the loud vibration rattling the desk. He snatched it up and answered, tucking it between his shoulder and chin as he continued to type on the computer.
“Yes? What did you find?”
I figured it was Jeremiah and continued working, waiting for Xavier to finish. I watched as his eyes narrowed, his fingers pausing on his keyboard.
“I see. You’re sure?” He pressed his lips together. “Send over the information.”
He ended the call and I glanced around, seeing that no one else was within earshot before I leaned toward him. “Well?”
“I’m forwarding you the email. Jeremiah found some new info.”
A ping sounded from my phone and I snatched it up, opening the email from Jeremiah. I tapped on the attached files and frowned, trying to make sense of what I was looking at until it clicked.
“His bank statements…”
“Yeah,” Xavier nodded. “With several substantial payments from—”
“Ever,” I finished grimly.
I sat back in my chair, rubbing my forehead. “So is he working for Ever or Philo…?”
“I would guess that Ever either turned him or planted him in Philo with the intent of him stealing information for them. While Philo has a large branch related to the pharmaceutical business Ever has ties to the military. A frenzy enhancer like this would be gold to them.”
Xavier was right and I didn’t love the implications of that. However…
“So why is he hiding out in the Southern District then? You think he got cold feet?”
“I don’t know, but I think I know who the buyer is most likely to be.”
“Who?” I demanded. “Is it someone on the list?”
Xavier gave a small smile and tapped one of the files. “Commodus—more aptly named than you might think.”
I frowned as I pulled the file on the Praedator out of the pile. “I thought we already discarded him. Grant and Levi looked into him and he checked out.”
Xavier shook his head. “He would to those who don’t know what he really trades in.”
“And what is that?”
“Blood.”
Xavier stood up, glancing at his watch. “Are you up for another after hours investigation, Captain?”
I sighed but gave him a fond look. “Always.”
***
We parked five blocks away from the location Xavier was taking me to and I huffed at the long walk.
“This is going to make a quick getaway difficult,” I said.
“It will be fine,” Xavier assured me as he tugged on my hand. “Hopefully, we won’t have to make a quick getaway.”
“One of these days you’re going to have to take me out on a date that isn’t doubling as an undercover mission,” I grumbled.
Xavier chuckled and tugged me closer to put his arm around my waist as we fell in line with several other Praedator couples making their way into the nondescript club. “When this is over, I promise I’ll take you out on a proper date. Fancy dinner, real dancing, and a relaxing walk under the stars that doesn’t involve running away from something.”
I softened as I looked up at him. “Alright, sweet-talker. I’ll hold you to that.”
As we approached the bouncers, Xavier flashed his phone, showing some kind of ticket. We were waved inside.
I wasn’t sure what to expect but as we entered the industrial looking building, I was hit with a wave of hard, pounding music, and the scent of sweat and blood. The crowds were gathered around a central area where a huge cage sat in the center of the room on a raised section. Scantily clad servers wove through the crowds, taking bets and offering drinks and unknown pills.
“This is…an underground fight ring?” I realized.
Xavier leaned down to speak into my ear. “Yeah. Commodus runs cage fights every Friday night. Some are champion matches, some are just Praedators from the crowd who want to go at each other. Like I said, he deals in blood.”
One of the servers came up to us, but Xavier waved her away, pulling me toward the fringe of the crowd so we were standing against one wall in a good observation point.
“Stable frenzy enhancers are exactly the kind of thing he would want,” Xavier added. “He’s also a known info broker, he would definitely have heard about them, especially after Caliban failed to buy them last night.”
I furrowed my brow. “How can we be sure the seller is going to show up tonight though?”
“He’s not going to want to wait,” Xavier said. “He has both Ever and Philo after him as well as the LCBI now. He can’t hide in the Southern District forever. The only thing currently keeping him alive is the fact that he has something that powerful Praedators want.”
He was right. I nodded, already scanning the crowds for our missing man when a door at the back corner nearest to us opened and a huge Praedator stepped out. The crowd cheering in greeting.
“Commodus,” Xavier breathed.
Before I could ask another question, he was shoving me into the shadows. My back hit the wall and there was only a breath of hesitation before his mouth was on mine.
“X-Xavier!” I protested, pushing at him. “Now is not—”
His only reply was to shove me more firmly back, one hand on my waist, the other pinning my wrist up beside my head. “Wait,” he murmured “I don’t want Commodus to see me yet.”
“He knows you?” I sputtered, trying not to fully succumb to the heat rushing through my body at his sudden show of dominance.
Xavier hummed and started kissing me unashamedly again, pressing his body against mine. The studded leather and chains of his outfit dug into me and I finally allowed myself to savor the moment, taking hold of the straps around his hips and tugging him closer. Xavier exhaled into my mouth, ducking down further as Commodus and two guards passed us, paying us no attention. My heart pounded and I closed my eyes, briefly savoring Xavier’s heat and the taste of his mouth.
When he finally pulled away, he blinked a little, wiping a thumb over his lip. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.”
I rolled my eyes and reached out to more thoroughly wipe the stain of my dark lipstick from his mouth. “No need to apologize. It worked.” My cheeks were flushed with heat despite my pretending indifference and I could see Xavier’s little smirk out of the corner of my eye as he shifted further away again.
Before we could say anything else, a spotlight came on over the cage and the crowd instantly started cheering wildly as the Praedator Commodus stepped inside, holding his arms wide.
“Ladies and gents—I hope you have your bets in because we have an all-star lineup for tonight’s entertainment!”
Xavier tugged me closer to the cage, mingling on the edges of the crowd. Everyone was jostling, getting in last minute bets as the two Praedators who would take the ring first climbed into the cage, posturing at each other. The referee—or as much a one as these kinds of fights usually had—stepped forward, offering them a tray with syringes that I assumed contained frenzy enhancer. I winced as I watched them take them and inject themselves.
“They don’t care if they lose their minds?”
“They consider it entertainment,” Xavier replied blandly. “The winners’ purses are always really good too. Most think it’s worth the risk.”
I watched as Commodus with his men took a seat in a booth on one side of the room, overlooking proceedings. In his blood red suit and leather accents, he did resemble the Roman emperor of his namesake.
As the bell announced the start of the fight, the two Praedators in the cage went at each other like rabid animals, the crowd screaming encouragement and abuse as their favorites got the upper hand or faltered.
Movement caught the corner of my eye and I glanced over to see a figure slinking in the shadows. He looked completely out of place, far too plain with his nondescript Northern style leather jacket and a hat pulled low over his head. But I would have recognized him instantly, even without the case clutched tightly in his hand.
“Xavier.”
“I see him.”
We started to make our way through the crowd as the man lingered briefly before heading in the direction of Commodus’s booth.
Xavier and I tailed him, going completely unnoticed in the chaotic atmosphere and as we passed by some kind of side room, Xavier reached out to grab the man as I opened the door, the two of us ushering him inside with a muffled cry.
“W-who are—mmph!”
“Quiet,” Xavier snapped, pressing his hand over the man’s mouth. “We just want to talk.”
“Oh god, it’s you two again from the club! You’re with Ever—or—or Philo?!”
“Neither,” I stated, playing good cop as I affected a more open look. “Let’s just say we’re an interested third party.”
The man trembled and Xavier took him by the front of the coat and shoved him over to sit on a box.
“Start talking,” he said. “Who exactly are you working for?”
“No one!” the man protested.
“It doesn’t matter to us either way, we just want to know the truth,” I told him.
“And we want to take those samples off your hands,” Xavier added.
The man’s hand shook where it was clenched so tightly around the handle of the case that his knuckles were white. I stepped forward. “Who told you to take them?”
He let out a shuddering breath and slumped. “I-I was only working at Philo for a few weeks—got hired out of University. Someone from Ever approached me and offered me a deal. I was broke, barely able to pay rent, and he said I would be guaranteed a job with them if I pulled it off so I did what they asked and stole the samples. But when I realized what Ever could do with something like this I-I got cold feet and I did the only thing I could think of and tried to sell it off. Then at least whoever bought it would just use it and be done. But it hasn’t been easy. Getting word out to find a buyer has put Ever and Philo on my trail now and…I just want it to be over!”
“If you want it to be over, then do what we say,” I told him. “We’ll help you get out of this.”
“What do you want?” he asked shakily.
“Tell Commodus that you found another buyer who wants to offer him a deal for the enhancers,” Xavier told him.
The man balked, shaking his head. “No! No way in hell! I’m not going to cross him! I already almost got killed last night when the deal with Caliban went bad! That was your fault too!”
I looked at Xavier, and finally sighed and reached into the secret pocket of my leather vest to pull out my credentials. “I’m from the LCBI. I can promise you that if you go through with this and give your testimony on record we’ll make sure neither Ever nor Philo will be able to touch you.” I wasn’t really sure I had the authority to promise that, but we would cross that bridge when we got to it.
“You’re Enforcers?” he asked, eyes widening, still seeming to be slightly suspicious, but looking more trusting as he stared at my credentials.
“Do we have a deal?” Xavier asked curtly.
The man swallowed hard, fiddling with the case, before he finally nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
Xavier gave him some instructions and we sent the man on his way, stepping back outside to stand at the fringe of the crowd. The fight was winding down and the two Praedators were taking wild swings, both bloody and beaten.
The man made his way over to Commodus as confidently as possible, trying to appear as if he had just arrived. I watched as he seemed to explain everything to the Praedator. I couldn’t hear what was said from this distance, but from his expression he seemed more amused than upset. He waved to one of his guards who started to weave through the crowd before stopping in front of Xavier.
“The Emperor wants to speak with you,” he said simply.
Xavier nodded, tossing me an encouraging look as I followed a pace behind him.
As we were led to the box, Commodus lounged in his chair, chin propped casually in his hand as he eyed Xavier with a knowing look and then me with brief curiosity.
“Hello, Hermit.
“Commodus; it’s been a while.”
“Indeed, it has,” the Praedator said, raising his head as he picked up a glass of wine. “I hear you’re trying to scalp my goods.”
“I merely put in a better offer. I thought I would be generous and give you the opportunity to put in a counter.”
Commodus chuckled darkly. “Is that so? How about a deal instead?”
“What did you have in mind?” Xavier asked.
Commodus flicked a lazy finger at the cage. “Fight in my next round. My current champion is up next and he’s been unbeatable for too long. If you lose, I’ll match your current offer to the seller.”
A bad feeling began to well in my stomach.
“And if I win?” Xavier asked before I could caution him.
Commodus smiled. “Then you can have the enhancers and I’ll settle for making a ton of money on odds tonight.”
Xavier nodded. “Fine. It’s a deal.”
I opened my mouth to protest but Commodus grinned, reaching out to shake Xavier’s hand.
“A pleasure doing business again, Hermit. My man will escort you to the ring. It looks like you’ll be up soon.”
As the bodyguard from before motioned Xavier forward I jogged to keep up and grabbed Xavier’s shoulder.
“What the hell are you thinking?” I hissed.
“Relax, I can handle myself.”
The referee was doing the final count, and I swallowed hard as I saw the unconscious body of the loser, multiple visible injuries on his body. I did not want this night to end with me scraping Xavier up off of the cage floor. Especially not when he still bore the scars from Killer’s torture. I didn’t want to see him hurt like that again.
He sensed my unease and paused briefly to hold my hand as the crowd erupted in cheers and boos depending on who won or lost bets.
“I’ll be okay,” he said softly. “You know I’m stronger than I look.”
I sighed heavily. “Just…don’t do anything stupid—anything more stupid than you already are, anyway.”
Xavier grinned. “I wouldn’t want to miss the date I promised you, would I?”
I gave him a longsuffering look as the bodyguard motioned him forward while the winner leapt out of the cage and the attendants dragged the loser out behind him.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the referee called. “We have a surprise guest tonight! Let’s all welcome the infamous killer in the shadows—Hermit!”
Xavier gave me one last look and jogged up the steps, taking his place inside the cage, standing on the blood-stained mat as the crowd either cheered or jeered at him.
“This pretty boy is Hermit? I could break him like a toothpick!”
“I’ve seen him fight—he’s incredible! Absolute savage!”
The referee cast his arm back at the door behind the cage. “And our reigning champion: Crusher!”
A huge Praedator stormed out of the entrance to the crowd’s explosive cheers. He punched his fist in the air, hands clad in fingerless gloves with brass knuckles built in. The sides of his hair were shaved in obnoxious patterns and his teeth were filed into points. A leather harness with spiked studs crossed over his chest, some coated in dried blood from a past fight, leaving little to the imagination as to what would happen if someone got close enough to grapple.
My heart dropped into my stomach as I swore silently at Xavier for his lack of self-preservation.
The Praedator in question however, didn’t so much as blink as his opponent. He simply stood indifferently as Crusher climbed into the cage, leering at him.
“You’re going down, pretty boy! I’m gonna make you squeal real pretty before I’m done with you.”
Xavier simply shrugged. “We’ll see who’s squealing by the end.”
The Praedator laughed and the referee brought the tray of frenzy enhancers into the ring. Crusher grabbed a syringe instantly but Xavier made no move to take one.
“No thank you,” Xavier said simply.
Crusher scoffed, then, to my brief relief he tossed the syringe back onto the tray. “Nah, I don’t need enhancer to break you. I’d rather remember the feel of your guts through my fingers.”
Bets were being placed. I glanced over at Commodus who seemed to be watching with indifference as a serving girl poured him more wine.
Logically I knew Xavier could handle himself. I’d seen him fight—or, rather, seen the results of him fighting. He was dangerous, even without going into a frenzy. But I couldn’t help but think he had made a really bad decision going against someone twice his size whose fighting style he wasn’t familiar with. At least Crusher hadn’t taken the enhancer.
The referee exited the cage, closing it up behind him, and the countdown began.
“THREE—TWO—ONE!”
The bell rang.
Crusher was on Xavier before I could even take a breath.
The huge Praedator wasted no time in grabbing Xavier by the throat, slamming him back against the chain-link cage and leveling a brass-knuckled fist into his stomach.
I winced as Xavier let out a muffled grunt, heart leaping in my throat, fists clenched at my sides.
“What the hell, Xavier?” I hissed as the crowd started to roar in support for Crusher as he added another fist, and then his knee to the party. Xavier doubled over only to be slammed back again with Crusher’s hand tightening around his neck.
“Crush the little bitchboy!”
“Break his balls!”
“Make him choke on his own guts!”
Xavier began to go limp, and I started to push my way toward the cage when there was a sudden shift.
Crusher relaxed his grip and opened his arms as Xavier slumped against the side of the cage. “That’s it? Pathetic. I guess it’s time for the Hug of Death!”
The crowd screamed in anticipation as Xavier slid down onto one knee. I watched as his hand went behind him, pulling a knife from the back of his belt.
The tone of the fight changed in an instant. As Crusher went to grab him, Xavier whipped out at the Praedator with the knife, slicing it along the back of his thigh as he darted around him to the other side of the cage.
The crowd gasped ad Crusher roared in fury and pain. “You little—!”
Xavier flung himself at his opponent, neatly avoiding a haymaker, ducking in and delivering two neat slices to the Praedator’s ribs in the shape of an X.
“Show off,” I muttered, unable to help a smirk.
Crusher spun around, trying to grab Xavier again, but he was too fast. Xavier was toying with him, darting in like a wasp, so quick it almost looked like he was teleporting.
“AGGH! Get over here you little bitch! Let me crush your bones!”
Xavier leapt over another blow, kicked off of the side of the cage for momentum to slam his boot heel into Crusher’s nose.
The Praedator’s head snapped back in a spray of blood. He howled and frenzy overtook him.
The crowd cheered as he dashed toward Xavier, slamming him back into a corner of the cage. Xavier’s shoulder hit the support beam and he grunted, dropping to the ground and rolling to avoid Crusher’s stomping foot.
“You little shit! I’m going to rip your nose off and make you eat it!”
Xavier kicked his legs out from under him and Crusher went down hard.
It was then I saw a red glow on the back of his neck. He had an activator.
“Xavier!”
His eyes glanced toward me and I pointed to the back of my neck. Xavier nodded, but the distraction was all Crusher needed to grab his ankle and yank him down.
Xavier gasped, slamming into the floor, breath knocked out of him. Crusher was on him in an instant, straddling him and pinning him to the floor, doing his best to pound Xavier into the floor with his fists. Xavier dodged and deflected what he could, but some still got through, having to hurt like hell.
Crusher was in too much of a blind rage to realize until too late that Xavier had shifted into a position that left him able to execute a submission hold. He flipped their positions neatly and as Crusher struggled, Xavier grabbed the back of his neck and pressed the activator.
Crusher’s eyes flew wide and he choked out a protest before his body went limp, completely drained of all energy.
Xavier staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his lip.
The referee stepped into the cage again and grabbed Xavier’s arm, raising it. “Hermit wins!”
The crowd was silent for a beat before they erupted in cheers. I finally released a breath of relief, shutting my eyes briefly in gratitude that Xavier was still standing.
It took everyone a moment to recognize the sound of sirens cutting through earsplitting cheers.
“Raid!” someone shouted and the whole place erupted in cries and screams, as the attendees began to rush for any exit available.
I swore, and shoved my way to the back of the cage, reaching to open the door for Xavier.
“Xavier! We need to leave now!”
“You go, I’ll catch up,” he insisted, looking around the room, trying to spot the seller.
“Don’t be stupid, I’m not leaving you here!”
“You can’t be seen here,” he insisted.
“What about you?”
He shook his head. “It will be worse if you’re found here. Please go. I promise I’ll be right behind you.”
I gritted my teeth, but I knew it would be easier for us to escape notice if we separated. “Okay. But call me the second you’re out of here. I’m heading to the safe house.”
He nodded and I pushed away from the cage and hurried out the back exit with the rest of the fleeing Praedators.
I dashed through the shadows as the sound of sirens and the flashing lights of the Enforcer vehicles lit up the night. I didn’t take a breath of relief until I was three blocks down and could see my car in the distance.
I didn’t wait for Xavier. I didn’t know how much I would come to regret it, but I drove straight to the safehouse, confident that he would find me there within the hour.
I couldn’t be farther from the truth.
***
Xavier wove through the rushing crowd, finally spotting the seller dashing outside, staggering as he fought to keep hold on the case.
“Hey!” Xavier shouted, running after him. “Wait!”
The man didn’t stop, simply yanked the door open and slammed it in Xavier’s face as he made a break for it. Xavier swore, barely keeping himself from running straight into the door. He flung it open and dashed outside into the alley, looking left and right.
He could hear the Enforcers entering the building but he couldn’t be bothered by that right now. He was sure Ariadne had escaped and now all he needed was to get to the seller—
“No! don’t! Please!”
The pleading cry was followed by the muffled bang of a suppressed pistol. Xavier rushed around the corner just in time to see the man he was looking for slumping down the wall, blood gushing from his chest. The case slid from his hand and clattered onto the concrete as he collapsed.
“Hey!”
Xavier rushed toward the dark figure bending over the man, but the assassin simply snatched the briefcase and dashed into the night.
Xavier was about to go after him when the seller gurgled. Empathy surged through him and he reluctantly paused, turning back to crouch beside him.
“You…promised…” the man choked out.
Xavier felt guilt crush his insides as he tried to reach out to stop the flow of blood. “You’ll be okay, I’ll call an ambulance.” More lies.
The man choked up blood, then slumped forward, breathing halting all together.
Xavier let out a shuddering breath, reaching to check his pulse when bright lights nearly blinded him as footsteps stomped around the corner of the alley.
“That’s him! That’s Hermit!”
Shit.
Xavier stood, shielding his eyes from the lights, seeing a Praedator and several Enforcers standing there as the Praedator pointed him out.
“You! Stop!” one of the Enforcers shouted out.
Xavier turned and dashed away.
He heard the sound of a gun and something hit him in the leg. He staggered with a cry, looking down to see a tranquilizer dart sticking out of him. He ripped it out, but it was too late.
He began to feel woozy. He knew these were made to help stop Praedators who were in a frenzy. They worked fast. He collapsed fully, the concrete cold and rough on his cheek as he simply tried to stay conscious.
The Enforcers descended on him, shoving him forcefully onto his stomach and cuffing his hands behind him.
“Get him in the car, we’re taking him back to headquarters.”
Xavier was hauled upright, firm hands under his arms, dragging him toward the vehicles.
“What the—isn’t this Captain Celest’s rookie? From Sector I?”
“Holy shit.”
Xavier didn’t have the capacity to protest. The tranquilizers darkened his vision. The last thing he was aware of was being shoved into the back of a car, then everything was just an ocean of darkness.
***
I had barely gotten to the safe house and changed before my phone rang.
I glanced down to see Grant’s name and picked up, a sick pit forming in my stomach.
“What is it?”
“Captain…you need to come to the office.”
The pit deepened as I slid my gun into my holster again. “What happened?”
Battered, bloodied, and bruised, he keeps on fighting. Spilled blood or a few bruises are a minor price to pay to achieve victory over a tough fight opponent.
I'm not the best at writing action scenes and I'm not sure if this is quite the way I want it, but here you go! A very normal and refined duel, featuring two normal and dignified knights, and most importantly, Kyrie getting the shit beaten out of her.
Today's match is supposed to be a big one. Kyrie can tell.
She doesn't yet know who her opponent is, but her heart won't stop pounding, and she can't tell if her nausea is from the anticipation or from how they didn't feed her this morning. Her gauntlets clink as she flexes and unflexes her fingers over and over and over again, the porcelain-white of her armor and waist cape, Lady Avaline's house symbol embossed onto her breastplate.
Her longsword is in her lap, the light reflecting off its sheeny white surface. Kyrie looks up as her Lady walks in, heels clacking on the stone preparation chamber. Kyrie stands up, then bows deeply on one knee to meet her.
Her Lady tsks, smoothing out Kyrie's sweaty hair, grabbing her crownchain-ring and forcing her upwards, looking into her eyes.
"I don't know what Lord Paral has done, but I suspect foul play," she says, in that soft way of hers. "Whatever it is, you're going to win. Do you understand?"
Kyrie nods.
"You know the consequences if you fail me again," she says, in a way that makes it clear their severity. Then she kisses Kyrie on the cheek, just below her brand, grabbing Kyrie's helmet from the bench and making sure it's aligned properly, and then she is gone.
Kyrie grips her longsword tightly, pacing back and forth, eyes stuck on the closed iron gate leading into the area. She does know the consequences, and she can't afford them. Foul play. What could that entail? It was set to be a standard until-incapacitation duel, the rules of which have remain unchanged for years. Her martial victory will also be a political victory for Lady Avaline, who needs a way to silence Lord Paral's malicious rumor-spreading at court; who himself was trying to convince some other noble to accept him as an auxiliary house, giving him more authority over mercantile contracts or some other such nonsense. Kyrie doesn't pay much attention to court politics, and luckily, she isn't expected to.
The gates open, and the thick moonlight begins spilling into the long hallway. Taking this as her sign to enter, Kyrie walks down the hall, longsword in hand, boots thumping against the flat stones, then crunching in the arena's thin layer of sand.
The sensations suddenly become much more intense as Kyrie steps into the moonlight. From one side of the arena, the nobility; they did not holler, really, but made a ruckus of their own, completely with a mixture of individually pleasant perfumes, combined together as to emanate a veritably noxious odor. Even with a quick glance, Kyrie can locate Lady Avaline, who does not cheer or smile, but fixes upon her with a sharply discerning glare.
From the other side, the citizens. By law, all duels of any type must be accessible to the public at a reasonable fee. They show their enthusiasm more vocally than the nobility, at the very least, chanting and hollering. The entire arena is separated from the stands with a thick wire mesh, ensuring sabotage is highly unlikely. The upper edge is lined with spotlights.
Most of the excitement is directed towards Kyrie's opponent. Lady Avaline is not particularly popular, although she does intend to change that, and Kyrie is an important piece. It makes her feel good, knowing she's useful.
Stiffly, Kyrie waves to the audience, to display she isn't entirely ignoring them but also would prefer to. Her opponent — one "Bondknight Yew" — seems to be taking his appearance in much more stride, acting the showman. His armor is a deep, deep gray, complete with fancy red adornments. Lady Avaline would disapprove greatly; how is he supposed to be a competent knight with an ego like that?
The officiator reads off the rules, all of which Kyrie has heard before, and introduces each duelist. While he's droning on, Kyrie notices Yew fiddling with something around his neck area. Nobody else seems to take attention to it, but she glares as he shakes himself out, and something small and metallic drops to the sand. He covers it in a way that could easily be construed as unintentional, and then grips his gray-painted war staff in the starting stance. Kyrie eyes it; probably reinforced with steel through the core, its ends are covered in bumped metal.
The officiator calls for the duel to begin, and Kyrie begins cirling around the arena, always facing her opponent, as is customary. The first one to attack is usually at a disadvantage, but the duel doesn't technically start until the first strike is thrown. The longest pre-duel sequence Kyrie has ever heard of took about 3 days, until one of the duelists finally collapsed from exhaustion.
The pre-duel does not last for 3 days. It lasts for about one second, until Yew dashes forward across the ten-yard gap between them, lunging wildly. Kyrie steps aside, with one hand on the back of her sword and the other on the grip. She should be at a decent advantage here; she has less reach, but —
Yew swings again, and Kyrie is too slow to respond, gasping as the staff hits her stomach, all the air knocked out of her, stumbling. She looks — and although the audience is too far away to see, there is a ferocity in Yew's eyes, one that isn't normal, even for someone who knows there are consequences. He swings again, and Kyrie drops to one knee, and then he swings again, and then Kyrie's sword is knocked out of her hands, and then he swings again, and then Kyrie is flat on her back, her brain only just now registering she has nothing to hold.
Her hands are stinging sharply from where the sword was wrenched out of her grip, and then Yew brings his staff down onto Kyrie's ringing head, but she manages to catch it in time. One advantage of blunt weapons was their ease of handling, but that also went for your opponent.
Kyrie pulls the staff, but Yew pulls harder, and she uses the opportunity to get on her feet. She has too much forward momentum, however, and crashes into Yew with her shoulder, trying to knock him to the sand. But he only stumbles, so Kyrie throws a punch, aiming for his head — but Yew, somehow, manages to catch it, and twists her arm towards an unnatural angle. He growls something, but between the roar of the audience and Kyrie's ringing ears, she doesn't manage to form the random sounds into words.
She grits her teeth and punches again, aiming for his abdomen, as he's unable to block with the staff in his hand. It's unwieldy at such a short range, but he seems to realize this, and drops it quickly. Their movements soon devolve into what is essentially just wrestling; she grapples him, he headbutts her, she kicks him away and they separate. His clawed gauntlets leave thick scratches on her armor. She goes for another kick, aiming for his crotch, but unfortunately underneath his waist cape he had the good sense to wear a codpiece. Kyrie was not so thoughtful, and his kick is much more impactful, leaving Kyrie screaming through gritted teeth.
She steps back, but he lunges again, with a beastlike energy, clawed gauntlets eager to gore. Her arm is still throbbing from where he almost broke it. Did he break it? Well, her brief moment limping backwards leaves him with an opening to grab his discarded staff and slam it across Kyrie's abdomen, knocking her onto her back, then slamming it right onto her breastplate, making a grotesque crunch. All the air leaves her lungs, and she can't do anything but heave there for a moment, trying futilely to keep him away.
Yew will tire himself out eventually. That level of energy can't be sustained for long, surely. Kyrie crawls backwards, managing to redirect a blow aimed for her head onto her lower leg instead, leaving it throbbing. She staggers to her feet and tackles him, leaving the staff discarded again, using her superior weight to her advantage. At this point, her ears are so attuned to the raucous noise of the crowd that their absence would be more disruptive.
She pins Yew, punching him in the face again and again, until he shoves with a strength that almost seems inhuman, and she stumbles backward, and he lunges forward.
Flat on her back again, she lifts her legs up to ward off Yew's dive, but instead of pushing him away, she simply kicks upwards and lets him sail far past her. The noise is deafening; hearing becomes a vestigial sense, for the moment. Kyrie staggers again to her feet, ignoring her exhaustion and the pounding in her head and heart, and realizes she's heaving but taking on very little new air, but still trudges over to Yew in the sand and falls on top of him.
Some people are under the delusion that dueling is a refined, dignified art. But there is very little that is dignified about the way Kyrie and Yew hit each other, Yew scratching her armor and almost seeking to maul her, while Kyrie attempts to follow the rules and incapacitate him. He knocks off her helmet. She stomps on his shin. He shrieks, an inhuman sound, and nearly takes her head off with his uppercut. She smashes his head into the arena wall. His eyes are wild and diluted, and for the first time Kyrie considers that he may not be sober. She can barely stand, struggling to see through the white-hot pain of her arm and her scratched face and through the ever-present drumming of her headache.
The taste of bile is thick in her mouth as she stops engaging, and staggers backwards, falling on her ass, slowly, robotically pulling herself backwards. Yew keeps trying to get up, but his leg won't cooperate, and his fingers are too smashed to get a good grip on the sand to drag himself forward. He won't stop screeching, but eventually Kyrie's back hits the wall of the arena, and she finally takes a look at her armor and it is covered in red, red blood. Eventually, Yew collapses and doesn't get back up.
Her senses returning to her somewhat, Kyrie remembers that she is a bondknight in service to Lady Avaline and tonight she will go to sleep in a bed and tomorrow she will wake up and do knight things, and her entire existence has not been spent in a hot arena fighting a hopped-up beastman. She is almost too exhausted to move, but she is able to raise her arm high enough for the officiator to count her as the victor.
"And the victory," he says, his voice clear and ringing, rising above the crowd, like an angel, "goes to Lady Avaline Renoir!"
A snippet brought to you by some lovely art by @riftsune of Uldren as a fighter. Which then spun off a Cage Fighter AU with @lokirulesmidgard which then led to this little ficlet and corresponding art by yours truly. Enjoy!
****
The crowd was cheering wildly, lights blaring down on the center ring. Cayde was off to the side, thanking the Traveler above that Exos did not in fact have fingernails. If he did, surely he’d have chewed them down to nubs already.
Two fighters were in the ring, a huge and frankly monstrous looking Cabal that was lighter on his feet than he appeared. And Cayde’s trainee—the young Awoken Prince with anger issues himself—Uldren Sov. The fighters traded deafening blows with one another, their feet moving along the floor as they danced around one another.
In a single moment a fight could change, Cayde knew this by way of personal experience. And that moment was coming for his trainee. He could sense it in the air. It was just as tangible as the smell of sweat and musk or the single streak of crimson that ran down the side of Uldren’s face.
Sadly, there was fuck all he could do to stop it. Uldren was as headstrong as they came. Almost as willful as Cayde in his early days as a Cage Fighter. Only he had rage too. And Uldren wielded that rage in an impressively terrifying manner most nights. Often taking down guys that were three or four times his size.
Then there were other nights—like this one—where Uldren would get too pissed, too sloppy to think rationally. Where his control would slip and give the opponent the upper hand. Cayde could see it coming a mile away in Uldren’s body movement.
Particularly when the Prince dropped his guard.
And that big bastard of a Cabal saw it too. He threw a right cross at Uldren’s unprotected face and the Prince hit the floor with a loud thud. Knocked out cold.
“Damn it!” Cayde cursed and ran along the fence that separated the ring from the crowd, getting as close to the Prince as could. “Get up…!” His head snapped up just in time to see the referee begin the countdown. “You ain’t done yet, Sov. Get the fuck up!”
He barely heard a groan from the male over the crowd. “Come on Side Shave, come back to reality.” Slowly Uldren lifted his face, his unfocused eyes meeting Cayde’s. Conscious, Cayde could work with that. “Hey! Hey!!” Cayde waved the referee down desperately. “Stop the count and call a timeout already!”
The referee didn’t particularly seem to like that Cayde was telling him how to do his job but Cayde didn’t give a single flying fuck. He’d do whatever he had to for his trainee.
“You have two minutes. Patch your guy up in that time or I start the count.” The referee said before turning away. Asshole. Cayde grabbed his kit and all but bolted into the ring.
Priority one: Get Uldren on his feet and assess the damage.
Priority two: …They’d cross that bridge when they got to it.
He slung one of the male’s arms across his shoulders and pulled him up. Uldren stumbled a bit but managed to stay upright.
“There we go…alright sit down for me.” He guided Uldren to the small bench in the corner and began to look him over. Small cut over the eye, definitely a broken nose and a split lip. His pupils were a bit wide, not quite blown though.
Cayde quickly retrieved a flashlight from his kit and turned it on. As soon as he directed it at Uldren’s eyes the male shielded them with his hand.
“The fuck are you doing…?” His voice came out hoarse.
“Not concussed then.” Cayde concluded as he stowed the flashlight.
“You sound surprised…”
“Hmm, maybe a little.” He didn’t wait for Uldren to react. In a swift, practiced movement he placed both thumbs on either side of the Awoken’s nose and reset it. Uldren cried out in pain, his hands tightening into white-knuckled fists.
“God could you fucking warn me when you do that?”
“Maybe stop blocking with your face and I’ll consider it.” He checked his watch. One minute remaining. Cayde grabbed two butterfly bandages, one for his nose and the other for the cut above his eye. Then he took out some antiseptic and cleaned the wound, putting the bandages on quickly. “Look you gotta wear this guy out.”
“Don’t tell me how to fight, Cayde.” Uldren growled out.
Cayde ignored him and told him anyway. “Keep your guard up. I mean it. Hold your ground until you see an opening. Do not drop it for even a second beforehand, do you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard you…”
“Repeat it.” He checked the watch again. 30 seconds.
“Hold my guard, wear him down. When I see the opening, take it.”
“Good. Give him hell, Side Shave.” Cayde slapped him on the shoulder and then gathered his kit, slipping back out of the ring just in time for the bell to sound.
