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Description

[Piston Bronco]

                Weeks passed since the encounter with the shrimps, as Granger had jokingly come to refer to them, and they had all adapted to the situation. While Sylvester had taken to long walks into the temple, a few of them following him about with lanterns and torches as he made notes, vain attempts at translating the information etched into the walls. Zeesa had been using them for menial tasks, cleaning the ship and washing their clothes, she’d even managed to turn it into a kind of game, splashing about in soapy water and wrestling with the wet clothes like cat battering at a bit of string. Evie had put them to work in the kitchen, for a time at least, until one had fallen into a pot and nearly been boiled to death. Many of the rest seemed to congregate around Granger, often camping out in the ship’s control room when he wasn’t around, and he seemed to like having them around as well.

                Belix seemed to be the only holdout, slamming her door on them and mostly pretending like they didn’t exist. Despite this they would still follower her about and do their best to draw her attention. They were rather curious and fairly quick learners, within a few days they were speaking in full sentences, and, after a week of crawling through the ship’s interior, they’d even managed to fix several broken, damaged, and frayed mechanical connections using rudimentary tools. It was a little scary how fast they were picking up on new skills, but, no one was complaining, they were good company.

                In the meanwhile, Belix and the others had taken to local jobs to make ends meet, mostly bodyguard work or courier work. It wasn’t much, but it was getting them by. This had left Sylvester in the temple, alone, for most of the day, and he was going a little bit stir crazy as a result. In addition to the translations he had also kept up with the training and taken up another hobby. He was busy indulging in it, sliding a sharpened knife along the edge of the club, having whittled it down to a more suitable cane, then suddenly heard the raised voices and stamping feet.

“Help! Help!” one of the shrimps declared as it flew into the room and launched itself at Sylvester before crouching behind his head in terror, “She’s going to Eat Me!”

“You’re Goddamn Right I Will!” Belix shouted angrily as she shoved her way in, then noticed Sylvester and Stitch sitting in there and breathlessly nodded as she tried to compose herself, “Hey, how are ya? Sweet cane…” she then pointed to the shrimp as it tried to hide, “Um, give that me so I can rip its head off.”

“No,” he said bluntly, putting the knife aside and planting the cane against the floor in case he had to stand up quickly.

“That little bastard drank all my booze!”

“Seriously?” he looked back at it and the creature shrugged.

“I was thirsty.”

                He sighed and carefully got up from the chair to face her.

“You have my deepest apologies,” he told her calmly, “You can take it out of my pay if you must, but please get out of my bunk.”

“You seriously think you can order me around?” she demanded.

“I don’t know a good way to explain this but…” he leaned in close and whispered into her ear, “There’s a lot more of them than us, I really don’t think corporal punishment is the best way to keep them in line,” he smiled sadly and patted her on the shoulder, “Just let it go and buy a lock for your liquor cabinet.”

“It WAS locked!”

“So buy a better one,” he said dismissively, then pulled on a traveling cloak over his dress shirt.

                She huffed and watched as he held out his arm and allowed Stitch to crawl onto his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he mentioned on his way out, “They’ll go into hibernation in about six months or so, shedding their old shells to grow new ones…”

“So you have been doing your research,” Belix grumbled, following him, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Get more books,” he shrugged, “Evie said she’d take me along on a food run, figured I’d hit up a few pawn shops along the way, see if I can find anything useful.”

“Hm…talk to Dane first,” she advised, “He might be able to point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks for the advice,” he nodded.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, patting him on the back as she turned away, “Now I’m going to lock that thing in your room so that it pisses all over your bed.”

                Stitch swiped her claws at Belix, halfheartedly but also let out an irritated hiss.

“She’s not a nice lady,” Stitch muttered.

“She’s got her reasons,” Sylvester insisted, scratching the side on her neck as she settled down to a more comfortable perch, “And she means well, just let her be.”

                A crowd of the shrimps began to collect in his wake as he headed out of the loading bay and met Evie at the raft. He helped her to set up the boat before turning back to the crowd and assuring them that he would be back soon. Then he shoved off, heading for the main island. Taking Belix’s suggestion, they docked outside of a lighthouse and went inside to meet with Dane.

                The old tiger man anxiously scratched at his graying beard as they approached, eyeing Sylvester warily.

“Well,” he commented, “His highness finally descends from his throne, nice duds by the way.”

                Sylvester only glared back at him as Evie slid onto his desk and leaned close to Dane, smirking.

“Come along now darling,” she cooed sweetly, tickling Dane’s chin, “There’s no need to be rude, actually, we were hoping you might be able to help us.”

“Anything for you sweet thing,” Dane smiled back, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle kiss.

“Huh…” Stitch muttered, her antenna twitching awkwardly, “What’s that smell?”

“Just…don’t…” Sylvester groaned, burying his face in his hands, “Don’t ask.”

“Wait a minute…” Dane finally looked around Evie and glared at Sylvester, “Is that supposed to be one of those things from the temple?”

“Her name’s Stitch,” Evie explained, “She’s part of the reason why we’re here, you see…”

“You killed the last generation and you’re trying to raise the new one to be obedient pets?” Dane surmised.

“…no…there was a…” she glanced at Sylvester and shrugged, “Tragic accident.”

“Hmm,” Dane considered, then shrugged, “Well, either way, what are you looking for? Study of the species? Lore? Origin?”

“Hyroglyphics, pictographic translations, ancient alphabets and linguistic analysis,” Sylvester surmised, “Also lore and local legends, specifically anything that might pertain to the temple or the five hidden islands.”

“…you don’t say?” Dane scoffed, “You sure you don’t want to narrow it down a little?”

“I’m willing to take it in parts,” Sylvester told him with a shrug.

“I bet you would,” Dane muttered, sitting back in his chair and thought it over for a minute, “Problem is…you’re talking about some hefty tomes there kid, as in, it might be easier to park your ass in the local library.”

“And…the problem with that?”

“This island doesn’t have a local library,” he muttered, “Could head to the records office, see where everything went, but…you’d still be spendin’ a month o’ Sundays huntin’ them all down, no, no, the person you’re looking for is Lydia.”

“And that would be…?”

“Local witch doctor,” Dane explained, “Sort of a lore expert, not looked upon very well by the public but, she’s got what you want.”

“Lemme guess…” Sylvester mused pensively, “Over in Wada? A little house with a blue roof, at the very end of a side road?”

“…not bad,” Dane nodded, impressed, “You know her then?”

“No…but I think I brushed by her a while back,” he then leaned close to Evie and whispered, “Wada’s a bit of a jog from here, think you can wait?”

“Think you can make it?” Evie wondered, glancing down at his damaged leg.

“I’ll manage,” he insisted, already shuffling towards the door, “And I’ll be back before sundown I promise!”

                He was already gone before she could say anything. Instead she gave a frustrated sigh and waved at the door.

“Fine!” she rolled her eyes, “I suppose the groceries won’t be that heavy,” she paused, a thought occurring to her, “Hey,” she asked Dane, “Is Granger still working that job at the casino down the way?”

“No,” Dane shrugged dismissively.

“Ugh…don’t tell me he got fired…”

“Nah,” Dane rose from his seat and hopped onto his desk to sit next to her, subtly leaning his weight against Evie as he spoke, “He quit a few days ago, said he got a better offer.”

“WHAT?!!” Evie demanded only to be instantly shushed as the old tiger man gently caressed her cheek.

“There’s no need for that luv, there’s no need for any of it,” he whispered sensuously, his fingers cupping her chin while his thumb softly ran itself over her lips, “Not when we have everything we could ever want right this moment, just you…just me…”

                She rolled her eyes and raised two fingers between them before he could kiss her. A bright flash emanated from her fingertips, blinding him as she easily slipped from his grasp and crossed her arms.

“Let us try this again,” she insisted, “Where is Granger?!”

                The Basilisk’s Den was an arena hidden beneath an old casino just off the Miji’s main street. Though it often played host to other violent blood sports involving the local fauna , it would, time and again be rented out for more…specific contests. Though Dane had been a bit hazy on details, he was certain that Granger had gone along of his own free will, but that had been more than a day ago and no word since. Her mind quickly made up, groceries long forgotten, Evie headed for the Den.

                Getting in wasn’t too difficult, though it did cost her a few coins, and figuring out where Granger was being kept was just a simple matter of asking around, but getting to him was something of a challenge. By all accounts the big man was being held in the cells down below with the rest of the animals, and, sadly, the whole area had been closed off for most of the week in preparation for the fight. Even then, Evie had to assume they would let someone in to feed the creatures they were keeping and muck out the cages. Sure enough, a servant would come along a few hours later with baskets of meat and a trawl.

                It took the last of her coin, but Evie managed to convince them to skip out on their next shift and she took his place. Using her light-bending, she was able to alter her appearance to sneak past the guards without raising any suspicion, and quickly abandoned the meat baskets when she entered the cells.

“Granger!” she shouted in a strained whisper, “Granger! Where Are You?!”

“Down here,” he replied wearily, lazily allowing his hand to slip through the bars.

                She rushed over and found him face down on the floor, groaning and immediately started to check him for injuries.

“God, what did they do to you?” she muttered, quickly running her hands over his face and neck only to have him recoil away.

“Huh? Evie?!” he pulled back a confused look on his face before he pulled down his cap to hide his cybernetic eyes, “What’re you doin’ here?”

“What am I…what do YOU think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Waiting for my fight,” he shrugged, pushing himself into a sitting position and lounging on the other side of the cell, “This is just a stipulation of the challenge, they want to make sure I can’t run away.”

“Okay…What?!!”

“So…I don’t know if you know this but…I’ve got this kind of ‘reputation’…”

“Granger the Grinder,” she rattled off dully, then rolled her eyes when he looked surprised, “The Holy Order gave me a dossier on all of you before shipping me off on the assignment.”

“Oh…well that’s…really? What’d mine say?”

“Highly advanced military grade cyborg,” she shrugged, “Metal arm, likes puppies, I don’t know, there were a lot of factoids and most of it was unimportant.”

“…hmm…yeah, fair enough,” he shrugged dismissively, “Well, anyway, for coin and food, I sometimes worked as a bouncer at a bar, Sally’s place back in Styx, anyway, one night there was this drunk asshole…”

“Please be less specific,” Evie rolled her eyes, “I don’t think I can handle all these details.”

“…His name was Birch Steele,” Granger glared back at her, “I didn’t know it at the time, but he was part of this…heavyweight gig, called themselves the Lead Weights, decommissioned military cyborgs, travel around and have boxing matches, see who’s better and all that.”

“Yes,” Evie nodded, nervously checking the halls for any guards that might be approaching, “I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, turns out he was at Sally’s that night because he’d just been crowned world champ, he was lettin’ himself go as celebration.”

“And you cleaned his clock.”

“I scrubbed that bitch dry!” Granger declared proudly, chuckling at his own joke, “And I was the only man what ever did that to Birch Steele, drunk or sober, the man had a perfect record…until…” he cringed, scratching the back of his head, “There’s this new kid, rising up in the ranks, calls himself Piston Bronco.”

“He took out Steele?”

“No, Steele had a heart attack in the ring while they were fighting, so, Bronco’s the champion by default,” Granger explained, “As you can imagine, that sort of win can lead to controversy.”

“And he thinks by beating you he can put it all to bed.”

“Now, usually I aint down for this sort of thing, but they’re offering me a decent chunk of coin here, it’s somethin’ I can’t pass up, plus,” he raised his metal arm so that she could see as the metal parts started to shift around, “They’re throwin’ in a few extra perks.”

                They both watched as his new four fingered hand shifted around until each digit was spaced around evenly and folded back along his wrist. A pair of heavy ceramic bands slid down from his forearm and organized themselves into a cylinder before the fingers folded back up and locked them in place. A trio of hydraulic stems activated and jammed themselves into the cylinder causing a set of meat tenderizer spikes to erupt from its sides. Finally a pair of valves activated at his elbow and a drill popped out from the center of the cylinder, whirring loudly before disappearing as it shifted back, becoming a, relatively, normal hand.

“Nice right?” he commented.

“I sure your girlfriend will love it,” Evie smirked.

“Hmm, well, I’ll let you know,” Granger shrugged, then looked around, “You might want to get moving though.”

“Why…”

                She looked in the same direction and saw a clutter of shadows creeping down the stairs, complaining about the discarded meat baskets while they slowly came into view. Three men, tall and thin with long black hair, wearing long black coats and adorned with sterling golden jewelry that glittered in the torchlight as they quietly puffed on cigars.

“Great reflexes,” Granger mocked her.

“Where was I supposed to run?”

“Well what do we have here?” one of the men wondered as he approached.

“A bystander,” Evie insisted, “Just passing through.”

“Oooh, I love that accent,” he commented as he walked closer, “From Serriquesse?”

“The Principality of Bacchus,” she corrected him, affording the man a small, polite curtsey as she did and he chuckled approvingly, “Born and raised.”

“If you say so,” the lead man pulled out a silver pocket watch and examined it, “You’ve still got a few hours before the fight, planning to…spend it pleasantly?”

“I didn’t ask for her, she just showed up,” Granger insisted.

“Oh...” the lead man moved forward and shook the gate on Granger’s cage, “Weren’t fiddling with the lock were you?”

“No sir…”

“Not about to leave here and meet with your crew, maybe come back with ten or twenty men, ransack the place and…” he paused when he noticed Evie snickering.

“I’m sorry, you just…” she chuckled again, “You Really don’t know our crew.”

“Well…we will have to fix that at some point won’t we,” he then stepped back and gestured to the staircase, “In the meanwhile, won’t you be our guest?”

“Are you giving me an option?”

“Not in the least.”

“Then I’d be glad to.”

“There’s a smart lady,” he wrapped his arm around her and started to lead her towards the staircase before stopping, “Oh, before I forget,” he smiled as he pulled away, “Do you mind feeding the animals, we rented the place on commission and it would reflect poorly on us if any of the property were to be damaged.”

“Of course,” Evie glared at his retreating back.

“And, just so that it’s said, the guards have orders to shoot on sight if they see you leave the premises before the fight takes place, so, do be careful with where you step.”

                Evie continued to glower until the men in black coats had finally disappeared up the stairs and then glanced back at Granger who only shook his head.

“Nobody asked you to show up,” he mentioned settling back into his cell and, apparently taking a nap, “I’d get to work if I was you, those animals aint gonna feed themselves.”

                Complaining openly the whole way, she did as she was bid and passed out a relatively even portion of semi-rotten meat to each of the creatures in turn. Once finished the guards arrived and forced her to scrub up in the women’s lavatory before leading her away to the balcony seats were the men in black coats waited.

    Though calm and polite, they made it very clear their intentions towards her as the night wore on. As they were seated for the undercard fights, one of them even opened his pants and offered her his throbbing wrinkled member. When she refused he instead forced the nearby waitress to service him and she had to listen to that while impatiently waiting for the preliminaries to finish.

    Finally, the last bout was over and the announcer entered the ring holding a megaphone. As he made a show of clearing his throat, the sound of tribal drums filled the arena, both Granger and Piston Bronco were led to the ring covered in decorative robes, blue and red.

“LADIES and GENTLEMEN!” he screamed through the amplifying cone so that all could hear, even doing a dramatic twirl as the audience came to silence, “Now Comes, The MAIN EVENT!!”

                The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and applause and the announcer patiently waited for it to die down.

“In The Blue Corner! Weighing In At Thirty Stone! Hailing From Parts Unknown! A Proud Survivor of the Vaphmorian/Threnodide War! The Buster! The Breaker! The CRIPPLER! Let’s Give It Up For GRANGER The GRINDER!!!”

                The crowd exploded again with a deafening blast of hoots and hollers as they removed Granger’s robe and he raised his arms triumphantly, playing to the crowd. Evie couldn’t help but smile at it.

“I suppose you had a reputation after all,” she muttered under her breath, her voice completely blocked out by the impenetrable wall of noise pressing down around her.

“And In The Red Corner!” the announcer continued, his voice taking on a sinister edge, “A Man Who Needs No Introduction! Hailing From The Proud Continent of Nox, The ‘Lights Out’ Capitol Of The WORLD! He Is, The UNDISPUTED, UNDEFEATED, UNBEATABLE, LEADWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!!!! He Is, The SPINE SNAPPER! He Is, The LEGEND KILLER! He Is, MR. TEN COUNT! He Is, MR. ALL NIGHT LONG! Ladies and Gentlemen! Please Say Hello To PISTON BRONCO!!!!!”

                Part of her had known it was going to happen like that, but she couldn’t help a scoff escaping her lips as the crowd erupted once again. Then she saw Bronco and that scoff turned into a gasp. Though Granger was large, this man was simply impossible, a whole head and shoulders taller and rippling with muscle from every inch of his body, and that was just the flesh. Sterling metal highlighted itself across his arms and chest, heavy exhaust vents were build directly into his overlarge back and a piston dotted his every vertebra on the way down to his waist. Where his hands should have been there were a pair of wrecking balls that folded out into fingers.

“…God Above….” Evie found herself muttering.

“No,” the old man leaned close to her, “That’s the work of Man darling, a bit of a personal experiment, just to see how many augmentations the body can hold.

                Evie said nothing, but felt a sudden wave of terror tightening in her gut as the crowd died down and the announcer returned to center ring.

“Our Fighters Are Set, And I Have Been Asked To Make Clear, The Betting Table Has Been Closed, Now, To Hundreds In Attendance, LLLLLLET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!”

                Granger came out strong from his corner with a few quick jabs, sizing up his opponent, but Bronco simply swatted him away like a fly. Evie winced, seeing the spray of blood flying out of his lips and subconsciously rubbing her cheek. Though Granger hardly seemed to notice and bounced right back up with a hard right, then followed up with his mechanical arm, whirling the mace function around and busting open Bronco’s lip. Bronco roared at him and answered back with a flurry of thunderous blows.

                The fight continued on for twelve rounds, and Granger never faltered, but he was clearly losing. For every burst of rage or technique, Bronco simply answered back at him with brute force, often times just flinging him across the ring like a rag doll. In the last few minutes, bloodied, bruised and all but broken, Granger threw a final punch and whiffed, the strike missed, badly, and he fell to a knee as Bronco loomed over him. The larger man did nothing for a time, but eventually hit Granger with unrestrained fury.

“You Think You Can Beat ME!!” they heard Bronco scream from the balcony, continuing to lay into him with another savage blow, “YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME!! You’re NOTHING! NOTHING!!!”

                Evie had to watch as the larger man rained down punches on Granger’s unmoving form, no one was brave enough to step in or put a stop to it, all they could do was witness the savagery until Broco finally wore himself out. With a final huff, the vents on his back emitting a visible mist of steam, he turn away and hopped out of the ring, not even waiting for the announcer to name him champion. As his footsteps receded, somehow, miraculously, Granger stood up, blood soaked and off kilter, listing heavily to the side, but still, he managed to roll out of the ring and limp back to his holding cell. As he disappeared into the shadows, Evie realized how tightly she had been clenching her fists and saw a little blood leaking out from under her nails.

“Go to you man,” one of the black coats muttered to her, “We’ve got business to see to.”

“He’s not…” she started to argue but rolled her eyes instead, “Forget it.”

                Tearing out of the room, she ran down to the holding cells and saw Granger on the floor once again, a hand over his badly beaten face as he tried to take a sputtering breath through his broken nose.

“Are you…”

“Fantabulous,” he grumbled, tossing away a rag that was already deeply stained red with blood, “Ugh…don’t suppose you know how to stitch up a ruptured sinus.”

“Not on my list of skills, no,” she admitted, looking him over with no small amount of worry, even his new arm was bent and badly damaged, “I’d like to suggest you go see a doctor.”

“Mechanic would be more appropriate,” he responded, leaning back and putting his hands on his knees, “Flesh’ll mend, metal can be soldered back together, I’m waiting on something in the meantime.”

                Before she could ask a guard quickly approached from down the stairs and pushed past her, throwing a large sack of gold at Granger’s feet.

“Good show buddy,” the guard said with a wink, “You oughta think about doing this professionally.”

“No thanks,” Granger smirked back as he examined his winnings, carefully weighing it in his hand, “I like to live dangerously.”

                Evie watched the guard leave and then stared curiously at the large bag of gold while he rifled through it to make certain they hadn’t paid him with a bag of rocks.

“They gave you all that…” she muttered, a realization dawning on her as she saw the coins tumble from between his fingers, “…just to lose a fight…”

“Best to keep that to yourself,” he mumbled back, cinching up the satchel and climbing to his feet, “Bronco nearly queered the whole deal.”

“But…I don’t…”

“That kid aint the only one who wants to upgrade,” Granger sighed as he limped painfully towards the stairs, “I just need spare parts to do it.”

                He stumbled and fell, but found Evie by his side, helping him to stay upright.

“…Granger…” she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes.

“…yeah?” he whispered back.

“I know I’m trying to be nice but…” she grunted, letting him drop a few inches as her legs started to give out, “I really can’t carry you back to the ship…”

Description

[Piston Bronco]

                Weeks passed since the encounter with the shrimps, as Granger had jokingly come to refer to them, and they had all adapted to the situation. While Sylvester had taken to long walks into the temple, a few of them following him about with lanterns and torches as he made notes, vain attempts at translating the information etched into the walls. Zeesa had been using them for menial tasks, cleaning the ship and washing their clothes, she’d even managed to turn it into a kind of game, splashing about in soapy water and wrestling with the wet clothes like cat battering at a bit of string. Evie had put them to work in the kitchen, for a time at least, until one had fallen into a pot and nearly been boiled to death. Many of the rest seemed to congregate around Granger, often camping out in the ship’s control room when he wasn’t around, and he seemed to like having them around as well.

                Belix seemed to be the only holdout, slamming her door on them and mostly pretending like they didn’t exist. Despite this they would still follower her about and do their best to draw her attention. They were rather curious and fairly quick learners, within a few days they were speaking in full sentences, and, after a week of crawling through the ship’s interior, they’d even managed to fix several broken, damaged, and frayed mechanical connections using rudimentary tools. It was a little scary how fast they were picking up on new skills, but, no one was complaining, they were good company.

                In the meanwhile, Belix and the others had taken to local jobs to make ends meet, mostly bodyguard work or courier work. It wasn’t much, but it was getting them by. This had left Sylvester in the temple, alone, for most of the day, and he was going a little bit stir crazy as a result. In addition to the translations he had also kept up with the training and taken up another hobby. He was busy indulging in it, sliding a sharpened knife along the edge of the club, having whittled it down to a more suitable cane, then suddenly heard the raised voices and stamping feet.

“Help! Help!” one of the shrimps declared as it flew into the room and launched itself at Sylvester before crouching behind his head in terror, “She’s going to Eat Me!”

“You’re Goddamn Right I Will!” Belix shouted angrily as she shoved her way in, then noticed Sylvester and Stitch sitting in there and breathlessly nodded as she tried to compose herself, “Hey, how are ya? Sweet cane…” she then pointed to the shrimp as it tried to hide, “Um, give that me so I can rip its head off.”

“No,” he said bluntly, putting the knife aside and planting the cane against the floor in case he had to stand up quickly.

“That little bastard drank all my booze!”

“Seriously?” he looked back at it and the creature shrugged.

“I was thirsty.”

                He sighed and carefully got up from the chair to face her.

“You have my deepest apologies,” he told her calmly, “You can take it out of my pay if you must, but please get out of my bunk.”

“You seriously think you can order me around?” she demanded.

“I don’t know a good way to explain this but…” he leaned in close and whispered into her ear, “There’s a lot more of them than us, I really don’t think corporal punishment is the best way to keep them in line,” he smiled sadly and patted her on the shoulder, “Just let it go and buy a lock for your liquor cabinet.”

“It WAS locked!”

“So buy a better one,” he said dismissively, then pulled on a traveling cloak over his dress shirt.

                She huffed and watched as he held out his arm and allowed Stitch to crawl onto his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he mentioned on his way out, “They’ll go into hibernation in about six months or so, shedding their old shells to grow new ones…”

“So you have been doing your research,” Belix grumbled, following him, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Get more books,” he shrugged, “Evie said she’d take me along on a food run, figured I’d hit up a few pawn shops along the way, see if I can find anything useful.”

“Hm…talk to Dane first,” she advised, “He might be able to point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks for the advice,” he nodded.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, patting him on the back as she turned away, “Now I’m going to lock that thing in your room so that it pisses all over your bed.”

                Stitch swiped her claws at Belix, halfheartedly but also let out an irritated hiss.

“She’s not a nice lady,” Stitch muttered.

“She’s got her reasons,” Sylvester insisted, scratching the side on her neck as she settled down to a more comfortable perch, “And she means well, just let her be.”

                A crowd of the shrimps began to collect in his wake as he headed out of the loading bay and met Evie at the raft. He helped her to set up the boat before turning back to the crowd and assuring them that he would be back soon. Then he shoved off, heading for the main island. Taking Belix’s suggestion, they docked outside of a lighthouse and went inside to meet with Dane.

                The old tiger man anxiously scratched at his graying beard as they approached, eyeing Sylvester warily.

“Well,” he commented, “His highness finally descends from his throne, nice duds by the way.”

                Sylvester only glared back at him as Evie slid onto his desk and leaned close to Dane, smirking.

“Come along now darling,” she cooed sweetly, tickling Dane’s chin, “There’s no need to be rude, actually, we were hoping you might be able to help us.”

“Anything for you sweet thing,” Dane smiled back, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle kiss.

“Huh…” Stitch muttered, her antenna twitching awkwardly, “What’s that smell?”

“Just…don’t…” Sylvester groaned, burying his face in his hands, “Don’t ask.”

“Wait a minute…” Dane finally looked around Evie and glared at Sylvester, “Is that supposed to be one of those things from the temple?”

“Her name’s Stitch,” Evie explained, “She’s part of the reason why we’re here, you see…”

“You killed the last generation and you’re trying to raise the new one to be obedient pets?” Dane surmised.

“…no…there was a…” she glanced at Sylvester and shrugged, “Tragic accident.”

“Hmm,” Dane considered, then shrugged, “Well, either way, what are you looking for? Study of the species? Lore? Origin?”

“Hyroglyphics, pictographic translations, ancient alphabets and linguistic analysis,” Sylvester surmised, “Also lore and local legends, specifically anything that might pertain to the temple or the five hidden islands.”

“…you don’t say?” Dane scoffed, “You sure you don’t want to narrow it down a little?”

“I’m willing to take it in parts,” Sylvester told him with a shrug.

“I bet you would,” Dane muttered, sitting back in his chair and thought it over for a minute, “Problem is…you’re talking about some hefty tomes there kid, as in, it might be easier to park your ass in the local library.”

“And…the problem with that?”

“This island doesn’t have a local library,” he muttered, “Could head to the records office, see where everything went, but…you’d still be spendin’ a month o’ Sundays huntin’ them all down, no, no, the person you’re looking for is Lydia.”

“And that would be…?”

“Local witch doctor,” Dane explained, “Sort of a lore expert, not looked upon very well by the public but, she’s got what you want.”

“Lemme guess…” Sylvester mused pensively, “Over in Wada? A little house with a blue roof, at the very end of a side road?”

“…not bad,” Dane nodded, impressed, “You know her then?”

“No…but I think I brushed by her a while back,” he then leaned close to Evie and whispered, “Wada’s a bit of a jog from here, think you can wait?”

“Think you can make it?” Evie wondered, glancing down at his damaged leg.

“I’ll manage,” he insisted, already shuffling towards the door, “And I’ll be back before sundown I promise!”

                He was already gone before she could say anything. Instead she gave a frustrated sigh and waved at the door.

“Fine!” she rolled her eyes, “I suppose the groceries won’t be that heavy,” she paused, a thought occurring to her, “Hey,” she asked Dane, “Is Granger still working that job at the casino down the way?”

“No,” Dane shrugged dismissively.

“Ugh…don’t tell me he got fired…”

“Nah,” Dane rose from his seat and hopped onto his desk to sit next to her, subtly leaning his weight against Evie as he spoke, “He quit a few days ago, said he got a better offer.”

“WHAT?!!” Evie demanded only to be instantly shushed as the old tiger man gently caressed her cheek.

“There’s no need for that luv, there’s no need for any of it,” he whispered sensuously, his fingers cupping her chin while his thumb softly ran itself over her lips, “Not when we have everything we could ever want right this moment, just you…just me…”

                She rolled her eyes and raised two fingers between them before he could kiss her. A bright flash emanated from her fingertips, blinding him as she easily slipped from his grasp and crossed her arms.

“Let us try this again,” she insisted, “Where is Granger?!”

                The Basilisk’s Den was an arena hidden beneath an old casino just off the Miji’s main street. Though it often played host to other violent blood sports involving the local fauna , it would, time and again be rented out for more…specific contests. Though Dane had been a bit hazy on details, he was certain that Granger had gone along of his own free will, but that had been more than a day ago and no word since. Her mind quickly made up, groceries long forgotten, Evie headed for the Den.

                Getting in wasn’t too difficult, though it did cost her a few coins, and figuring out where Granger was being kept was just a simple matter of asking around, but getting to him was something of a challenge. By all accounts the big man was being held in the cells down below with the rest of the animals, and, sadly, the whole area had been closed off for most of the week in preparation for the fight. Even then, Evie had to assume they would let someone in to feed the creatures they were keeping and muck out the cages. Sure enough, a servant would come along a few hours later with baskets of meat and a trawl.

                It took the last of her coin, but Evie managed to convince them to skip out on their next shift and she took his place. Using her light-bending, she was able to alter her appearance to sneak past the guards without raising any suspicion, and quickly abandoned the meat baskets when she entered the cells.

“Granger!” she shouted in a strained whisper, “Granger! Where Are You?!”

“Down here,” he replied wearily, lazily allowing his hand to slip through the bars.

                She rushed over and found him face down on the floor, groaning and immediately started to check him for injuries.

“God, what did they do to you?” she muttered, quickly running her hands over his face and neck only to have him recoil away.

“Huh? Evie?!” he pulled back a confused look on his face before he pulled down his cap to hide his cybernetic eyes, “What’re you doin’ here?”

“What am I…what do YOU think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Waiting for my fight,” he shrugged, pushing himself into a sitting position and lounging on the other side of the cell, “This is just a stipulation of the challenge, they want to make sure I can’t run away.”

“Okay…What?!!”

“So…I don’t know if you know this but…I’ve got this kind of ‘reputation’…”

“Granger the Grinder,” she rattled off dully, then rolled her eyes when he looked surprised, “The Holy Order gave me a dossier on all of you before shipping me off on the assignment.”

“Oh…well that’s…really? What’d mine say?”

“Highly advanced military grade cyborg,” she shrugged, “Metal arm, likes puppies, I don’t know, there were a lot of factoids and most of it was unimportant.”

“…hmm…yeah, fair enough,” he shrugged dismissively, “Well, anyway, for coin and food, I sometimes worked as a bouncer at a bar, Sally’s place back in Styx, anyway, one night there was this drunk asshole…”

“Please be less specific,” Evie rolled her eyes, “I don’t think I can handle all these details.”

“…His name was Birch Steele,” Granger glared back at her, “I didn’t know it at the time, but he was part of this…heavyweight gig, called themselves the Lead Weights, decommissioned military cyborgs, travel around and have boxing matches, see who’s better and all that.”

“Yes,” Evie nodded, nervously checking the halls for any guards that might be approaching, “I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, turns out he was at Sally’s that night because he’d just been crowned world champ, he was lettin’ himself go as celebration.”

“And you cleaned his clock.”

“I scrubbed that bitch dry!” Granger declared proudly, chuckling at his own joke, “And I was the only man what ever did that to Birch Steele, drunk or sober, the man had a perfect record…until…” he cringed, scratching the back of his head, “There’s this new kid, rising up in the ranks, calls himself Piston Bronco.”

“He took out Steele?”

“No, Steele had a heart attack in the ring while they were fighting, so, Bronco’s the champion by default,” Granger explained, “As you can imagine, that sort of win can lead to controversy.”

“And he thinks by beating you he can put it all to bed.”

“Now, usually I aint down for this sort of thing, but they’re offering me a decent chunk of coin here, it’s somethin’ I can’t pass up, plus,” he raised his metal arm so that she could see as the metal parts started to shift around, “They’re throwin’ in a few extra perks.”

                They both watched as his new four fingered hand shifted around until each digit was spaced around evenly and folded back along his wrist. A pair of heavy ceramic bands slid down from his forearm and organized themselves into a cylinder before the fingers folded back up and locked them in place. A trio of hydraulic stems activated and jammed themselves into the cylinder causing a set of meat tenderizer spikes to erupt from its sides. Finally a pair of valves activated at his elbow and a drill popped out from the center of the cylinder, whirring loudly before disappearing as it shifted back, becoming a, relatively, normal hand.

“Nice right?” he commented.

“I sure your girlfriend will love it,” Evie smirked.

“Hmm, well, I’ll let you know,” Granger shrugged, then looked around, “You might want to get moving though.”

“Why…”

                She looked in the same direction and saw a clutter of shadows creeping down the stairs, complaining about the discarded meat baskets while they slowly came into view. Three men, tall and thin with long black hair, wearing long black coats and adorned with sterling golden jewelry that glittered in the torchlight as they quietly puffed on cigars.

“Great reflexes,” Granger mocked her.

“Where was I supposed to run?”

“Well what do we have here?” one of the men wondered as he approached.

“A bystander,” Evie insisted, “Just passing through.”

“Oooh, I love that accent,” he commented as he walked closer, “From Serriquesse?”

“The Principality of Bacchus,” she corrected him, affording the man a small, polite curtsey as she did and he chuckled approvingly, “Born and raised.”

“If you say so,” the lead man pulled out a silver pocket watch and examined it, “You’ve still got a few hours before the fight, planning to…spend it pleasantly?”

“I didn’t ask for her, she just showed up,” Granger insisted.

“Oh...” the lead man moved forward and shook the gate on Granger’s cage, “Weren’t fiddling with the lock were you?”

“No sir…”

“Not about to leave here and meet with your crew, maybe come back with ten or twenty men, ransack the place and…” he paused when he noticed Evie snickering.

“I’m sorry, you just…” she chuckled again, “You Really don’t know our crew.”

“Well…we will have to fix that at some point won’t we,” he then stepped back and gestured to the staircase, “In the meanwhile, won’t you be our guest?”

“Are you giving me an option?”

“Not in the least.”

“Then I’d be glad to.”

“There’s a smart lady,” he wrapped his arm around her and started to lead her towards the staircase before stopping, “Oh, before I forget,” he smiled as he pulled away, “Do you mind feeding the animals, we rented the place on commission and it would reflect poorly on us if any of the property were to be damaged.”

“Of course,” Evie glared at his retreating back.

“And, just so that it’s said, the guards have orders to shoot on sight if they see you leave the premises before the fight takes place, so, do be careful with where you step.”

                Evie continued to glower until the men in black coats had finally disappeared up the stairs and then glanced back at Granger who only shook his head.

“Nobody asked you to show up,” he mentioned settling back into his cell and, apparently taking a nap, “I’d get to work if I was you, those animals aint gonna feed themselves.”

                Complaining openly the whole way, she did as she was bid and passed out a relatively even portion of semi-rotten meat to each of the creatures in turn. Once finished the guards arrived and forced her to scrub up in the women’s lavatory before leading her away to the balcony seats were the men in black coats waited.

    Though calm and polite, they made it very clear their intentions towards her as the night wore on. As they were seated for the undercard fights, one of them even opened his pants and offered her his throbbing wrinkled member. When she refused he instead forced the nearby waitress to service him and she had to listen to that while impatiently waiting for the preliminaries to finish.

    Finally, the last bout was over and the announcer entered the ring holding a megaphone. As he made a show of clearing his throat, the sound of tribal drums filled the arena, both Granger and Piston Bronco were led to the ring covered in decorative robes, blue and red.

“LADIES and GENTLEMEN!” he screamed through the amplifying cone so that all could hear, even doing a dramatic twirl as the audience came to silence, “Now Comes, The MAIN EVENT!!”

                The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and applause and the announcer patiently waited for it to die down.

“In The Blue Corner! Weighing In At Thirty Stone! Hailing From Parts Unknown! A Proud Survivor of the Vaphmorian/Threnodide War! The Buster! The Breaker! The CRIPPLER! Let’s Give It Up For GRANGER The GRINDER!!!”

                The crowd exploded again with a deafening blast of hoots and hollers as they removed Granger’s robe and he raised his arms triumphantly, playing to the crowd. Evie couldn’t help but smile at it.

“I suppose you had a reputation after all,” she muttered under her breath, her voice completely blocked out by the impenetrable wall of noise pressing down around her.

“And In The Red Corner!” the announcer continued, his voice taking on a sinister edge, “A Man Who Needs No Introduction! Hailing From The Proud Continent of Nox, The ‘Lights Out’ Capitol Of The WORLD! He Is, The UNDISPUTED, UNDEFEATED, UNBEATABLE, LEADWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!!!! He Is, The SPINE SNAPPER! He Is, The LEGEND KILLER! He Is, MR. TEN COUNT! He Is, MR. ALL NIGHT LONG! Ladies and Gentlemen! Please Say Hello To PISTON BRONCO!!!!!”

                Part of her had known it was going to happen like that, but she couldn’t help a scoff escaping her lips as the crowd erupted once again. Then she saw Bronco and that scoff turned into a gasp. Though Granger was large, this man was simply impossible, a whole head and shoulders taller and rippling with muscle from every inch of his body, and that was just the flesh. Sterling metal highlighted itself across his arms and chest, heavy exhaust vents were build directly into his overlarge back and a piston dotted his every vertebra on the way down to his waist. Where his hands should have been there were a pair of wrecking balls that folded out into fingers.

“…God Above….” Evie found herself muttering.

“No,” the old man leaned close to her, “That’s the work of Man darling, a bit of a personal experiment, just to see how many augmentations the body can hold.

                Evie said nothing, but felt a sudden wave of terror tightening in her gut as the crowd died down and the announcer returned to center ring.

“Our Fighters Are Set, And I Have Been Asked To Make Clear, The Betting Table Has Been Closed, Now, To Hundreds In Attendance, LLLLLLET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!”

                Granger came out strong from his corner with a few quick jabs, sizing up his opponent, but Bronco simply swatted him away like a fly. Evie winced, seeing the spray of blood flying out of his lips and subconsciously rubbing her cheek. Though Granger hardly seemed to notice and bounced right back up with a hard right, then followed up with his mechanical arm, whirling the mace function around and busting open Bronco’s lip. Bronco roared at him and answered back with a flurry of thunderous blows.

                The fight continued on for twelve rounds, and Granger never faltered, but he was clearly losing. For every burst of rage or technique, Bronco simply answered back at him with brute force, often times just flinging him across the ring like a rag doll. In the last few minutes, bloodied, bruised and all but broken, Granger threw a final punch and whiffed, the strike missed, badly, and he fell to a knee as Bronco loomed over him. The larger man did nothing for a time, but eventually hit Granger with unrestrained fury.

“You Think You Can Beat ME!!” they heard Bronco scream from the balcony, continuing to lay into him with another savage blow, “YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME!! You’re NOTHING! NOTHING!!!”

                Evie had to watch as the larger man rained down punches on Granger’s unmoving form, no one was brave enough to step in or put a stop to it, all they could do was witness the savagery until Broco finally wore himself out. With a final huff, the vents on his back emitting a visible mist of steam, he turn away and hopped out of the ring, not even waiting for the announcer to name him champion. As his footsteps receded, somehow, miraculously, Granger stood up, blood soaked and off kilter, listing heavily to the side, but still, he managed to roll out of the ring and limp back to his holding cell. As he disappeared into the shadows, Evie realized how tightly she had been clenching her fists and saw a little blood leaking out from under her nails.

“Go to you man,” one of the black coats muttered to her, “We’ve got business to see to.”

“He’s not…” she started to argue but rolled her eyes instead, “Forget it.”

                Tearing out of the room, she ran down to the holding cells and saw Granger on the floor once again, a hand over his badly beaten face as he tried to take a sputtering breath through his broken nose.

“Are you…”

“Fantabulous,” he grumbled, tossing away a rag that was already deeply stained red with blood, “Ugh…don’t suppose you know how to stitch up a ruptured sinus.”

“Not on my list of skills, no,” she admitted, looking him over with no small amount of worry, even his new arm was bent and badly damaged, “I’d like to suggest you go see a doctor.”

“Mechanic would be more appropriate,” he responded, leaning back and putting his hands on his knees, “Flesh’ll mend, metal can be soldered back together, I’m waiting on something in the meantime.”

                Before she could ask a guard quickly approached from down the stairs and pushed past her, throwing a large sack of gold at Granger’s feet.

“Good show buddy,” the guard said with a wink, “You oughta think about doing this professionally.”

“No thanks,” Granger smirked back as he examined his winnings, carefully weighing it in his hand, “I like to live dangerously.”

                Evie watched the guard leave and then stared curiously at the large bag of gold while he rifled through it to make certain they hadn’t paid him with a bag of rocks.

“They gave you all that…” she muttered, a realization dawning on her as she saw the coins tumble from between his fingers, “…just to lose a fight…”

“Best to keep that to yourself,” he mumbled back, cinching up the satchel and climbing to his feet, “Bronco nearly queered the whole deal.”

“But…I don’t…”

“That kid aint the only one who wants to upgrade,” Granger sighed as he limped painfully towards the stairs, “I just need spare parts to do it.”

                He stumbled and fell, but found Evie by his side, helping him to stay upright.

“…Granger…” she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes.

“…yeah?” he whispered back.

“I know I’m trying to be nice but…” she grunted, letting him drop a few inches as her legs started to give out, “I really can’t carry you back to the ship…”