Chapter 27: Sweet Victory

“...Or else, I’ll tie your legs into a knot. I’ll crack your head like an egg. I’ll reach down your throat and pull it inside out. I’ll use your ribcage as an accordion. I’ll…”

-Yin Lordling, incomplete account, 190 U.E.

Raider Jack was a technical fighter. He reveled in the thrill of the hunt, and liked to play with his opponents. Let them get a few hits in, make a show out of it. The man was well-muscled, but not overly bulky. He was a technical fighter, so he hadn’t invested too much evo into muscle hypertrophy. No fancy mods, either, aside from monkey feet.

Yin waited, stance easy, at the edge of the arena. Just as expected, it didn’t take very long for Jack to get impatient and make the first move. He came bounding towards her, howling like a brute, bare chest exposed.

Remembering what Lax had told her, she played it calm. Let him get closer, closer, almost close enough to slam into her. She sidestepped at the last moment, swept low, took out his legs. He fell on his back, whooping, and she capitalized by twirling into a leaping downward kick.

Jack got his arms in a cross, catching her foot, but she felt the fine bones of his fingers crack as she pounded his hands against his torso. He laughed through the pain. Mad like Torch, like Dryden.

He wrapped his arms around her leg, holding it firm, and opened his mouth. Though he was human, it extended unnaturally far, revealing rows of sharpened teeth. Propelled by strong, modified jaws, he bit into her thigh.

Yin cried out. Tried to pull away, but Jack hung on, growling, throwing his head around like a rabid dog to tear at her flesh. Grasping either side of his jaw, Yin reached down and pulled, put all her strength into it. Slowly, agonizingly, she inched open his crushing bite. Getting him off her leg, she pinned him against the ground. His eyes widened as his gape grew uncomfortably wide. His prehensile feet grasped her ankles and pulled her legs apart, making her lose her grip and topple forward onto him.

Jack tried to fold her into a death hug, but Yin twisted free of his feet and rolled away from him. She got to standing, keeping most of the weight on her uninjured left leg, and waited for him to follow.

He rose eventually, worked stiff fingers, and came towards her with the same relentless fervor. Not a word spoken between them.

You are nothing, Yin thought. You’re just a stepping stone on my way to greater things.

This time, Jack checked his bloodlust and stopped short to bait out another kick. Yin had enough patience to see through his gambit, though. She launched her own offensive, kicking sand in his face as she shot forward. Caught him in the stomach with an uppercut, ducked under his retaliatory sweep, and shouldered into him. They fell together, and Yin coiled around him, arms locking around his neck, legs around his arms and waist.

Jack struggled and thrashed, spat sand and curses, but it was useless. The match was over. After spending about a minute in a headlock, he realized it, too, and forfeited.

Yin stood and basked in the adoration of the crowd. She’d earned it. They chanted her name, eager for more.

She helped Raider Jack to his feet. “Good match,” she said.

With a muttered curse, he slapped her hand aside and stalked out of the ring. His poor sportsmanship did not dampen her good mood. In fact, it made her chuckle inwardly.

Darling was lowered into the arena on the extended leg of a hanging scuttler and hopped onto the sand. He waddled up to congratulate her, all smiles. She let him prattle on for the crowds until the show was over and she could pull him aside.

“So…” Yin said. “I want my rematch against the Bull. Set it up.”

Darling’s big, carefully groomed eyebrows shot up. “Last time I checked, I was in charge of who gets to fight who in my own arena. If you want to fight the Bull, you might want to change up your attitude. Less entitled brat, more begging on your knees.”

Yin put a hand on the little kin’s shoulder. “You’ll give me that fight.”

“Or what?”

“Or else…”

*****

Yin tore off a big piece of soft, warm bread from the platter in the center of the table. She dipped it in the sauce and started nibbling at it.

Lax, seated on the other side of the table, seemed to have less of an appetite. “You can still call this off, you know,” he said. “You survived last time. Don’t think you’d get so lucky again.”

Gin, Sprocket, and Lillibel were wrestling each other for space at the table, sauce smeared over their mouths as they scarfed down soggy bread. Their mother chided them, but to little effect.

“I’m doing the fight,” Yin said. “I’m going to win this time.”

“It’s a long shot, at best, even if we start training this second.” Aella shot him a dark look at that, and he raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Which, of course, we won’t, because I’m spending quality time with my wonderful family.”

Yin waved aside his concerns. “I’m not worried about the odds.”

“Well, you should be. You only have, what, five days to train? This isn’t like with Aucom. It’s way bigger than that. The Bull is the most brutal bastard the Pit has ever seen. He’s never even gotten close to being beaten. All his matches end swiftly and predictably.”

“Then I’m looking forward to shaking things up.”

“You…” Lax rolled his eyes. “I’ve never met anyone so stubborn. Fine. Let’s do this, if it’s what you want. But you listen to me, got it? If you walk into that ring without a plan, you’re not walking back out.”

Yin nodded enthusiastically. “Got it. So, what’s the plan?”

Lax rubbed his stubbly chin. “I don’t know yet. Like I said, the Bull has never been beaten. It just hasn’t been done. But…”

“But what?”

“Well, he does have some weaknesses. He’s an offensive fighter, very offensive. Mindless, even. He’s got speed, size, and strength on his side in abundance, but you should have an easy time baiting out his attacks, make him overextend. He’s too big for you to do any real damage to him normally, so you’ll need to go for his weak points.”

“Eyes, knees, liver,” Yin rattled off. “That kind of thing?”

Lax grinned. “Exactly. And then—”

Aella slapped the back of his head. “No shop talk at the table!” she hissed.

With a sheepish nod, Lax turned back to his food.

*****

Amaline slid the tall glass of foamy, brown liquid across the bar, and Stephan caught it. He lifted it for a sip and sloshed it carefully around his mouth before swallowing. Amaline stared at him with rapt attention, waiting for any sign of emotion one way or the other.

Stephan nodded with a smile. “Yup. That’s a good Caffeine Rush.”

Amaline’s face lit up with glee. She bounced in place, putting considerable strain on her skimpy outfit. “Yay! I did it! I’m so good!”

“Pretty good, yeah. But you still have—”

“Lots to learn, right. Boring, boring, boring. Learn to give a compliment, boss!”

Stephan chuckled. “Fair enough. You’re doing a very good job, Amaline. You’ll make an excellent bartender in no time.”

“That’s better. We might be able to turn you into an excellent complimenter while we’re at it.”

The front door came open and a man slipped inside. Stephan recognized the young Ashlander. One of his recent hires.

“Got anything for me?” Stephan asked.

The Ashlander hurried up to the bar. “I think so, yeah. You told me to—”

Stephan held up a finger. “Hold on. Dry throats make for poor conversation. Do you take alcohol?”

“Sure.”

“What’s your poison of choice?”

“Oh, just whatever’s cheap.”

“Then you ought to try something with a little prestige. Amaline, will you pour us two glasses of, uh, let’s say the 160 vintage Raquat.”

“Got it, boss!” Amaline chirped and spun around to root through the old bottles on display. Before long, two glasses of clear, slightly green-ish liquid stood in front of them.

The man waited for Stephan to drink first, as if afraid it might be poisoned. Once he saw Stephan take a gentle swallow, though, he gave it a sip.

“Thoughts?” Stephan asked. “It’s smooth, right?”

The young man coughed and thumped his chest. “I… I think so, sir?”

Stephan laughed. “Maybe it’s an acquired taste. Well, onto business. What have you got for me?”

“You told me to let you know if I learned anything about a green-skinned girl. One going under the name ‘Yin’.”

Stephan and Amaline shared a glance. He leaned forward. “Well?”

“I’ve picked up a lead for someone who matches that description, including the name.” He took a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. “Here are my notes. It has everything you might want to know.”

Stephan unfolded the paper and gave the neat handwriting a cursory read. “Very thorough,” he commented.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Five hundred was the fee we agreed on, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“Have another three. This is good work.” Stephan fished inside his suit for his loose western currency. He paid the informant and sent him on his way, excitement growing in his stomach.

Once the bar was empty, he spent the better part of thirty minutes reading and rereading everything in the report.

“What do you think?” Amaline asked.

Stephan cracked a grin. “This is her,” he said. “I know where she is.”

Now to get that troublemaker home.