The door opens and I find my father sitting at his large glass desk typing quickly on his keyboard like he is punishing it for working to slow. He barely notices me enter the room as his reading glasses are focused on the blue screen illuminating his face. His white ponytail comes down the back of his head giving him the look of an old wise master. I look around the office, which contains mostly large wooden shelves filled with everything from books to weapons of every kind from Katanas and spears, to 22 gauges, and desert eagles. Along the right wall, is three giant plexiglass windows looking down upon a factory producing all kinds of weapons and armor along with medicines and devices that defy logic and science. My father finally takes off his glasses stands up from his big brown leather lawyer chair, the BBLL, as I call it, and smiles at me.
“Please sit down, son,” he says gesturing to one of the seats in front of his desk, “You want a scotch?” He walks over and opens a glass bottle filled with brown liquid from a small wooden table filled with bottles of liquor with different shades of brown.
“I’m nineteen, Dad,” I say questionably.
“The drinking age in this fine country is eighteen,” he replied back smiling and taking a sip. “Anyhow, I am getting off topic, we have much to discuss. Your partner should be here soon so we can talk about mission logistics then,” he sits down adjacent to me and gives me a deep look. Despite being a leader in our clan, he and I have always been close as father and son. He has always made sure I am safe and took me on many trips showing me exotic places and training me to be the best I can be. As fathers go he is a pretty great one, he is just strict and wants what is best for me along with the people of the clan which I respect. I know that if it came down to me or the clan he would chose the clan which I admire greatly for his devotion to the people. “Is everything alright?” He looks at me with the same concerned eyes he gave me when I went into my first rank match.
“I’m terrified to be honest,” I say allowing my nerves to flow freely, “I am excited for the opportunity but there is so much at stake with this first mission especially with a new partner. I want to prove I am worthy of being one of the true warriors of the Wuxing but how do I know my partner isn't going to screw up everything.”
“How do I know you won't be the one screw things up, golden child?” A voice comes from behind me and I turn to see piercing emeralds staring at me. It's the girl from the night before. What is she doing here? Could she be meeting with my father? As my mind races considering reasons why she is here. My father speaks first.
“Aw Frost great to see you here,” he stands up and walks over giving her a firm handshake and gesturing for me to greet her, “Son, this is Rebecca Nutter, she is Frost, your new partner and a new Garroter. Frost this is my son, Chanel King...”
“Ordinance,” she interrupts, “I know about the golden child, only a year younger than I and he gets the praise of being the youngest Garroter on the same day I receive the honor as well.” She sideways smiles at me then sticks out her hand. I shake it feeling her smooth skin with the tough calluses around her knuckles, she trains with daggers as I can tell from the calluses.
“See friends already, you will work great together,” my father says quickly patting us on the back, “besides Frost is the first remnant to enter the Garroters, so you're both golden children per say.” I feel my throats close up and my adrenaline pump quickly.
“I'm sorry you're a remnant?” I exclaim trying to hide my apparent hesitation.
“You didn't think we were all crazy did you?” She smiles slyly and I start to feel my hand get colder and colder until I can feel the frostbite penetrating my skin. I pull my hand away quickly and watch as the frost slowly goes away and my hand returns to normal.
“Yeah, she can control air pressure and create ice out of thin air. It's quite impressive if I do say so myself.” My father said as he went to sit back down in his chair and sift through some documents on his computer.
“I can see that,” I glare at her before turning and sitting down in the chair I was in before. Frost comes and sits down next to me smiling widely like she has won a gold star.
“Now let's get down to business shall we,” he turns his laptop towards the both of us showing us a city in Mozambique. “This is Maputo, the capital city of Mozambique. The ruler Filipe Nyusi has been ruling the country since 2015. He's mostly an okay ruler but he's made some mistakes, and some enemies. He is one of our allies and we won't allow attacks on him to be permitted. Our intelligence was confirmed that a group of rebels are planning to kill the president in two days time at his address to the public. The two of you are going to attend the president's address and take out any member of the rebels who tries to make a move at the speech. Understood?” Frost and I nod our heads realizing this isn’t a distraction mission like some I have gone on before, this is real. “Good, you leave in five hours for Mozambique. I need y’all to get your gear and head over there as soon as you are packed with the essentials, your armor, and weapons. Additional items will be waiting on the plane to help the mission go smoothly. Extraction will be at this point,” he says zooming in on a small marker in the middle of the jungle, “I have loaded the info into your new wristlets. You must disband the rebels no matter how many there are and get to the extraction point in 48 hours. Casualties are not an issue, do whatever is necessary and kill anyone who gets in your way. No mercy.” He says sternly through the cadence of his voice. The wristlet on my arm buzzes and a small hologram comes up showing a map of the area we are going to and how to reach the extraction point, it looks like a see through google map. My father stands up and so do we ready to go. “Frost will you wait outside for a second, I need to talk to my son and then y’all are dismissed.” She nods and gives me one more look before thanking my father and leaves the room.
“What’s going on?” I ask. I see my father walk over to a small chest well lit in a case behind his desk. He opens the chest and pulls out a long machine that looks like it fits around the forearm. He walks over holding it in his hands with the grace of a baby bird. He presents it before me with pride.
“This is a device I created when I first became a true Garroter, every member gets to chose their keystone weapon. This one was mine. I hope you would like it to be yours.” He twist the device and it separates into two smaller pieces that he proceeds to latch to his arms. He presses a tiny black button on each side illuminating a tiny glass vial on each arm filled with a gold liquid. He holds out his hands and the liquid empties and two chinese officer swords appear made out of the liquid. I step back a little trying not to show my astonishment but I had never seen anything like it before, the swords were as detailed as a professional sword that would take years to make and yet they were made in mere seconds from this miracle liquid. He turns to a tiny wooden sculpture of a dragon next to his extensive self of alcohol and strikes with enough force to cut it in half. The swords then shrank down back into a liquid form and the vials are filled again. “These vials are filled with citadel, the same metal lining your armor. It has special traits that when controlled allow the person to manipulate it in any way you want. The armbands have an interconnective system inside them that sends artificial neuron charges to the frontal cortex, you simply need to think of a weapon and the fluid is reactive enough to create it. With these you can create swords, daggers, throwing knives, any form of melee weapon and no matter where you throw it, it will always return to the vials in your arms.” He takes off the device and hands me each side. “Here,” he says handing them to me, “try it out.” I take them and latch them to my forearms, as soon as I press the buttons to turn them on I feel a rush of energy connecting to my frontal cortex. I simply think and a war axe is formed from the liquid into my hand almost exactly like the one I used yesterday just completely golden. I swing it around a bit to get a feel for the weight and balance then form a knife in my other hand. I send it flying, nailing it to the giant map of Eyre and the valley. With so much as a simple thought the weapons decrease in size and liquidate filling the vials again.
“Thank you, Father,” I smile appreciative of the gift and fairly impressed with the applications of this device. From the outside looking in it may have seemed I wasn’t happy about receiving the gift, but my father knows me well and understands that I don’t always show my emotions out loud and I really do appreciate it. He pats my back and looks at me contemplating what to say next.
“I am very proud of you, Chanel. You have grown up so much and I can see you doing amazing things and maybe even being the leader of this whole fortress one day,” he puts his arm around me and I can feel the fear in his voice and in his eyes, “Just please be careful. I know you are a warrior and can take care of yourself, but I...” his voice gets caught in his throat, “thought I would never have a son until I had you. Keep yourself safe.” We hug for a while taking in the moment before he goes back to working at his desk I walk out the door and down the steps of marble mentally preparing what I need to pack for the trip. A soon as I step outside, I see Frost leaning her back against a column, she has her eyes closed breathing in the fresh air and letting her mocha skin glisten making all the guys in Eyre stumble when they see her. I start to walk down the steps past her when she opens her emerald eyes and stares at me.
“Hey Chanel,” she yells getting my attention. I stop in my tracks surprised to hear her use my real name instead of the name I was given. I turn towards her as she walks up nonchalantly with her hands in her pockets.
“What can I do for you, Frost,” I try and hide the fact that I am bothered by her using my name.
“Please Chanel, call me Becca,” she says, “You and I are partners and are going to have to spend a lot of time together on missions and in training so there is no point in being formal with each other. Besides Frost and Ordinance, I mean there cool names but completely weird to just say normally like ‘Hey Ordinance wanna go bowling later’?” She made a sarcastic face but saw that I didn’t find it funny so changed her attitude almost immediately.
“Our names are an honor I hold dearly. I have been wanting to receive one since my father told me the stories of earning the name Tundra. I don’t see it as ‘informal’, I see it as respectful,” I exclaim trying to show her my seriousness and maturity in in the ways of the clan.
She looks at me sternly her Emerald eyes trying hard to pierce through my defense. “Look I don’t know what your deal is but I just wanted to clear the air. I feel this tension between us and it may have been my fault but I don’t want it to be that way. I have seen you fight and I respect the way you move and your devotion but I want to get to know you. I want to care about my partner not just feel like I’m stuck with you.” At the mention of her saying she wants to care about me it makes my heart jump a bit in a way I don’t really understand. I quickly push the feeling aside and focus on the matter at hand.
“Listen Frost, that's noble and all but we have to stop rebels from overthrowing a country in less than a couple of days, we don’t have time to worry about caring about each other. Do your job well and I’ll do mine.” She looks at me sideways a little hurt by what I have just said. I don’t have time to deal with this so I turn walking back towards my room showing I’m done with the conversation when she yells at me a little louder than I would have liked.
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“Is it because I’m a remnant you don’t like me!” She exclaims with a tone of anger but almost desperation. I turn around giving her a look then proceed walking onward towards my room. Who does she think she is? Calling me by my name and saying it is out of respect? Yelling at me in front of everybody saying I hate remnants? I contemplate her mental ailments as I walk into my house. The house is completely empty with a note on the counter from Davis:
I laugh a little before going upstairs and grabbing a bag to put my stuff in. I look around my room trying hard to focus on packing but I couldn’t stop thinking about my encounter with Fros...I mean Becca. Usually, I can be a jerk to someone and I don’t even think twice about it but for some reason she is different. Why do I care that I snapped at her? Why should I care what she thinks? I look down and my wristlet and the time illuminates across the silverband, 8:00 am. I have about three hours before I need to get to the jet and take off. Seeing the little amount packing I have to do and given the time I have left I realize I have just enough time for one of my very important duties. I look around the room and gather a few items like my armor and phone, along with a few power bars just in case I get hungry along the ride. I quickly throw the items into my bag with more difficult than expected. I grab my grey zip up running jacket and throw it on along with the Citadel arm bands Father gave me. I walk over to a loose floorboard and look around instinctively even though I know for a fact no one is around and Davis wouldn’t care if he saw me anyway. The floorboard comes up and a pair of sneakers with wires coming from the heel to a small remote with a bright red button on it lays carefully with the shoes. I take a small bag and gently place the sneakers in the bag. A smile creeps across my face as I remember the last time I did this and get excited at the thought. I head over to the window on the other side of the room, I open it and let the wind hit my face refreshing me in a way from the stress I endured this morning, I lay my back against the window sill and push my head through the window seeing the blue morning sky above me before skillfully bouncing up and climbing to the top of my tiny house. I look out in front me squinting my eyes thinking that will make me able to see the invisible barrier that surrounds all of Eyre. When I finally get a glance at the edge faintly glimmering I take the sneakers and again look around making sure none of my clansmen are looking at me chill on the roof. When the coast seems clear I tie up the sneakers and carefully place them on my feet being sure not to mess with any of the wiring. Davis has always been the type of guy to tinker with things and try and make weird looking devices. So last year when they replaced the old barrier with this new invisible one Davis realized we wouldn’t be able to sneak out to the village anymore so he made each of us these special sneakers. They aren’t a work of art or anything but they do allow us to get aloft long enough to get over the wall so it is a form of art in its own way. In the morning air, there are few people walking around Eyre as they are getting as much sleep as they can since today is off day. I have done this only a couple of times to prepare myself for the frightening exhilaration of the jets as they take me to the sky while rattling like they might explode at any moment. I plant my feet firmly getting into a squatting position then press the bright red button. Nothing. I look around and down at the sneakers wondering why the launch was postponed. I sit down on the roof getting ready to examine the boots when I hear a sputter come from underneath my feet and a flame. “CRAP,” I yell accidently as I jump to my feet just as the sneakers send me into the air over the barrier but cause me to flip in the air to where it looks like my landing may be on my head. A branch is upside down a couple of feet ahead of me so I quickly shift my feet trying to stop my momentum and catch myself on the branch. My feet catch the branch but snap it instantly causing the sneakers to lose thrust and I start to fall roughly 30 feet. I see a tree as I’m falling basically in slow motion and just on instinct think of a way to get to it. Suddenly a golden rope dart is thrust from my hands into the tree and I find myself swinging right into a tree. The impact comes swift and hard leaving me with a black eye but that is the most of the damage. I look down seeing I only have about 13 feet between me and the ground. I laugh with relief amazed at the innovation of the rope dart made of citadel. I silently thank my father for giving me these today not knowing that they would end up saving my life. I think and two knives form from the rope dart and I climb down the tree jamming the knives into the trunk until I finally reach the bottom. I check my wristlet once I reach the bottom and see that it is 8:10, that entire life threatening encounter took only 10 minutes. I even out my breathe laying my back against the trunk and wrap my head around what has just happened. After a couple of minutes, I return the knives to my arm bands, take off the sneakers, and put on my Nikes as I head down the steep incline to the village below.
As is usual, the village is buzzing with activity as people scurry around, heading from one shop to the next speaking Spanish, more like yelling, and carrying large objects or slabs of meat. Motorcycles weave in and out of the people honking each chance they get just because they like the way it sounds. I walk across the main streets of the village heading to the town square. A large building with the flag of the clan hangs from the main building in the square. Behind the grayish brown building is a small set of metal rusted doors leading down into a cellar, guarded by two intimidating men. They give me a look trying to remain tough but look terrified recognizing me. I can see it through the dilation of the pupils and the drips of sweat streaming down their forehead. They open the doors letting me in, the morning light pierces through the dark cellar showing a set of old stairs leading down to “the depths of hell” as the natives say. They close the doors behind me and leave me in the darkness, it gives me time as I walk down the hallway getting ready to be the person the people through the door ahead expect me to be. I emerge through the door into a terribly lit, rather large room filled with people screaming and throwing pesos through the air at a large area made for luchador matches with large cage around it. Two large men sweat and bleed onto the matt assessing their opponent and trying to land the strongest punch like any unskilled fighter would do. I walk up to the bar up at the back wall and pull off my hood to look at the large blackboard with the names of who is fighting today. A man with the name of “Destructor” has four skulls next to his name meaning he is extremely deadly in the ring. “Perfect!” I say. The bartender looks at me with a befuddled look and says under his breath “Ares.” I look at the man and say “Ponga mi nombre al lado de los Destructor.” The bartender quickly takes a piece of chalk and writes “Ares” next to destructor. I thank him, laying a few pesos on the bar, and turn to see that the people have spread out making a lane for me to walk to the ring. The two men from the last match are pulled off the mat leaving bloodstains, I guess it was a tie. I take off my hood and shirt. I throw them to the side and enter the cage. A man in a bedazzled cowboy hat and sparkly clothes enters the area with a mic and starts yelling at the crowd in Spanish.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the great city of Comendador, we have a very special treat for you tonight. The legendary Ares, god of the ring, has come to take his title of back from the man who has claimed it in his absence. Can he do it? Is Ares no longer the god of this ring? We shall see. I give you Destructor!” A large muscular man enters the room and a spotlight catches him as he walks towards the ring. He looks like an hispanic bulldog where the wrinkles are just muscle. Any usual competitor would be terrified to fight this guy, but I am not a normal competitor. A few men pull up a rack of weapons to the bulldog and he grabs a fancy looking sword with one edge serrated, the kind of weapon chosen by an amateur who thinks a scary big weapon will help him in combat. I laugh and think and two golden war axes come from my arm bands and appear in my hands. The room erupts in astonishment and wonder at the axes. The bulldog enters the cage and stands directly in front of me drooling on my nose. I push him back and he sneers at me with a look of death in his eye. He steps back allowing me to analyze him and find his weakness. He is muscular but not very free moving. He seems to be about 30 years old. Taking a hit from him will hurt a lot and stun me enough for him to get into my defense so I need to tire him out and strike. I need to be careful as well because a simple strike won’t do much so I need to hit hard enough to do damage and force him to take the offensive trying to strike me down with his blade. I can attack when his defense is down. I wink at him from across the ring knowing that my plan will help me win this match today. He grunts angrily and starts towards me with his blade raised high to come down for a strong strike on my head. That was easy enough to get him on the defensive. I run quickly towards his exposed body and get a good slice across his rib cage and the back of his leg as I do a spiral swing spinning after the first strike to avoid his strike and attack the calf. He yells in pain but quickly recovers as blood spills onto the mat, he is tough I’ll give him that. He turns swinging the sword in a circle trying to catch me off guard and take me out in one blow. I roll easily under his blade and kick out one of his legs taking him to the ground, I use the moment to straddle him and gain the advantage. I swing down an axe going for the kill but he swings his arm nailing me in the face forcing me off of him and causing the axes to go back into my arms. He scrambles quickly to his sword, but I am quicker. I sprint over just as he is about to get the blade and kick him in the face causing him to be dazed for a minute. I turn his body over to where he is laying on his back and start sending punches to his cranium. I feel his nose break and his body starts to crumble when he puts a hand onto my shoulder, this is what I was waiting for. I slip my hand to his shoulder and the other to his wrist and let my weight carry me to the ground. Bring my feet across his head forcing him into a locked armbar. He scrambles around trying to get free but it is too late. With one thrust, I hear his elbow snap and his arm goes limp under my pressure. The bulldog screams and I release my grip. The crowd wails in a craze of madness wishing for blood to be spilled and screaming my name “ARES, ARES,ARES!” I turn towards the crowd taking the glory when I feel a sharp pain across my back, the crowd screams in horror as the bulldog has taken back his blade and has slashed me with the serrated edge causing a widespread wave of heat burning the skin off my back. I fall a bit and hear the sound of his blade coming to connect with my head. The pain doesn’t stop me, I turn quickly dodging the attack and kick the blade out of his hand. I slam him again using my akimbo and boxing training to nail him all over his body causing ripples of pain to spread across my opponent. I summon a golden knife to my hand and and thrust it through his chin. His eyes go blank and dark. He crumbles to the ground and the match is over. The people cheer and their cries plus the adrenaline take the pain away that I feel in my back. I didn’t want the match to end in this man's death, but it was always a possibility. I have been trained my entire life to show no mercy and take out any opponent that stands in my way no matter what. To be honest, I don’t feel anything for the man. The people who fight in this ring are the worst of the worst who are looking to gain respect so they can gain followers and exploit the village of their hard earned money. I am doing them a favor. I enter three more fights, winning each with a knockout as each competitor is scared to suffer the same fate as the first guy who fought me. As I am gathering my things to leave, a hooded figure pushes past me and steps into the cage. The room erupts in cheers as the figure steps into the cage. The figure calls the announcer into the ring and whispers something in his ear. He looks at her crazily then grabs the mic.
“Ares!” he yells into the mic, silencing the room. “You have been challenged by Athena.” Everyone in the room looks at me with wide eyes, some excited to see a fight between Ares and this new competitor, some terrified thinking this could be the deadly match yet. The pride inside me swells and I don’t let some guy call me out like this. I head towards the cage and step inside. The announcer announces details of the match but my eyes are locked on the hooded figure. I stare at the figure deeply trying to figure out who it could be. The announcer tells the figure “ Athena, take off the hoodie and get ready to fight.” She unzips her hoodie to reveal simple spandex and a icy blue sports bra against mocha skin. I look up at her face and see the small freckles, the symmetrical face, and the piercing Emerald eyes of Frost staring at me with a slight grin.
