Saturday December 27th 2014
Rising from his meditation, Cesare opened his eyes as Candy stepped into the room. Unfolding from the lotus, he stretched the kinks out before following her into the kitchen.
Last night was a snake pit of wicked thoughts, but none of it had to do with Candy. She was the easy part. Mercenaries were simple things, you got what you paid for, and their fucks ran out when the green did. The pretty girl in front of him didn’t even make his list of problems, the biggest worry was getting the letter off today. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him, but he hadn’t been like this before he’d entered to Primrose.
Cesare relaxed as he watched the sway of Candy’s ass as she moved around the kitchen. It wasn’t his flavor, too small and tight for him. Cesare appreciated a lusher, more developed base, soft, with a jiggle that overfilled the hand. But her ass did keep his mind off worrying if he was going nuts.
Thinking the problem over last night helped crystallize the issue. He didn’t have anything against fighting but the dark satisfaction, the almost sexual high that rode him hard when he was maiming flesh, was disturbing. He’d been on the receiving end of that look too many times over the years. He hadn’t survived those monsters only to be reborn as one.
He wasn't strong enough to stop them from carving their hungers into his flesh, but if he became one of them, he’d be their plaything in body and soul. It wouldn’t be losing a battle; it would be the war. They’d taken his childhood; he'd be damned before he lived their truth.
Candy set his plate in front of him, her tone wry. “You know if you like my ass so much, I can cut you a discount and we can do something about it.” The words shattered Cesare’s meditative silence.
It wasn’t every day a woman offered to fuck him. His eyes jumped to hers, meeting black emptiness. There was no heat in her eyes, no desire stirred her body. Only a mercenaries glossy deadness, a void born of selling the best bits of herself until all she had were the parts no one wanted, not even her. Cesare understood her because he was her. He’d walked the same roads, fucked the same demons, and given his flesh to pass the thresholds of hell.
Under his eyes, Candy stretched languidly, small breasts pressing into her threadbare shirt, a milky expanse of shoulder showing as the shirt dipped, pale as snow, pure as a serial killer’s soul. Cocking her head to the side, an eager smile sliced across her face, a mix of welcome and challenge.
She’d do it, and after all the practice she had, Cesare knew she’d be good too. And it would mean nothing to her. Just another faceless fuck, less than that because he wasn't paying top dollar. There were a thousand reasons not to do it, but they boiled down to four big ones. Besides, easy sex was never easy, you always paid more than you thought.
“Thanks, but I’ll hold my money,” Cesare said as he slipped a piece of bacon to the wolf. He felt only the briefest touch of soft flesh, the beast’s lips delicately taking the bacon from him.
The eager smile disintegrated so completely even its ghost was erased. “The offer stands.”
They finished breakfast in silence, their bargain not including small talk. “I'll be back in a few hours. I need to hit the Post Office,” he said as he washed his plate and started working on the pans.
Candy watched him as he picked up his bag from the living room. “You know you can leave your bag. I was going to stay home today,” Candy said from the threshold of the kitchen.
“I like to have my stuff with me. You never know what'll happen,” Cesare said, already heading for the door.
Hesitating, Candy cursed under her breath. “I can give you a ride. Just give me a few to get ready.”
She ducked into the hallway before he could agree. Cesare looked at the door for a minute before settling in to wait for her. It would take him a few hours to get to the Post Office on foot and there was the wolf problem. There was no way they wouldn’t call the cops as soon as he stepped foot in the place. Getting the wolf to stay outside was a chump’s chance, slim and none.
Candy came out at a fast walk, tension draining from her as she spotted him waiting. The truck wheezed and rattled its way back to life. Rusted steel pushed its way onto the road like a fat drunk looking for a fight, fiberglass cars shying away from the menacing bulk as it lumbered uncaring down the road. The drivers knew instinctively any kind of accident would turn their bitch cars into broken toys.
Pulling into the parking lot, Candy swerved into a spot next to a shiny BMW. Walking away, the owner whipped around, sensing his cock extension was in danger, face pale at the brutish thing parked next to his princess. A wince warped his face as the hunk of metal gave a belch of black smoke, caustic fumes swirling around his princess.
Candy grinned at the glaring man. “I love seeing assholes jump when the beast rolls up next to their fuck me cars, fucking priceless.” Laughing to herself, she held out her hand to Cesare. “Well, hand it over. If you go in there, you’ll be seeing SWAT on your way out.”
Cesare handed over the letter and a twenty from his pocket. “I want it overnighted.” She nodded, already pulling the door open. “And Candy.” He waited until her eyes found his. “I want the receipt.”
She wasn’t doing this for him. She was protecting her investment. He could appreciate where she was coming from, but he wouldn't thank her for watching her ass.
It was only a few minutes before she was back, slamming the truck door as she handed over change and the receipt without comment. They were quiet as they went back to the house, Cesare looking out the window, his thoughts far away.
Parking in the driveway with the engine winding down, her words were quiet in the still cab. “You can trust me. I won’t fuck you over.”
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The wolf was already out of the truck bed, watching Cesare through the window. “You know I can’t. You won’t take a step out of your way to screw me, but when I stop earning, you’ll stop caring. I’m disposable, every dime you spend on me comes off the bottom line.”
Unwilling to let the conversation go, Candy started up as soon as the front door was closed behind them. “It’s just business, you know how this works.”
Moving the furniture against the wall, Cesare answered, uncaring of the words. “I do. And I’m holding up my end.” Setting the chair on the sofa, he turned to face her. “I get it. I fight and you give me a place to sleep and food. We're good.”
She didn’t look reassured, but that wasn’t his problem. Candy was like a thousand people he’d met on the streets, utterly temporary. They were using each other, each angling to get more out of the deal than they gave, with an eye always on the exit. It was betrayal, known from the first word, only the when waiting to drop. It wasn’t right, but it was the way they’d been shaped.
Centering himself, he rocked from heel to toe, feeling his balance settle as he reached for the earth with his toes. Welling up from his bones, the grounded feeling spread through him, his breathing taking on the deliberate rhythm of war. Muscles warmed in anticipation, his mind clearing as he dove into the abyss of his inner self. Unfolding, the world changed as the moment embraced him. Moving without thought, the moment pulled his body into a flowing, brutal dance.
He was both the moment and divorced from it. He directed his body in the kata and was present in every fibrous strand of flesh. His body was nothing more than a meat puppet that killed on order, divorced from consciousness. Yet he was preternaturally aware of every muscle, each a separate note in a symphony of vengeance.
The Kundalini materialized amid his kata, seeming to phase into being. His attention drifted to the golden serpent even as the moment molded his body. It was part of him, but on a level so deep it existed beyond thought. The burnished coils burned, weaving deeper than his soul, running into the primordial ocean of his most basic existence.
Cesare finished his kata in the same spot he’d started, his breathing even as sweat cooled on his body. He wasn’t sure how many of those golden instincts were reborn scarlet, but he’d felt the wolf stalking his mind. Turning, he met Candy’s eyes in challenge.
Smirking, her eyes ran over his body with a horse traders’ calculation. “I was wrong, is that what you want? You’re a bad ass motherfucker, and I bow before your massive cock.”
Laughing, Cesare felt some of the tension leave the room. “I’m going to hit the shower.”
The wolf moved easily into the space between him and Candy. It didn’t like anyone near Cesare, always placing itself between the unknown and Cesare. He wasn’t sure why, but he appreciated the gesture.
People being close had never worked for Cesare. The wolf was different, there was comfort in having it close enough to touch. It wasn’t human or Umbrae Lunae, born with a purity that mocked the lies of lesser races. An animal’s love was honest in a way civilization had lost.
Cesare smiled at the naked relief from the wolf as they left the bathroom. He’d changed into a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. The shirt had started its life white, but was now a yellowish beige. Taking a seat on the sofa, Cesare pulled his feet up under him as he folded into a lotus, eyes closing in meditation.
“You want anything before we go?” The quiet words floated in the air, uncertain but trying. Candy stood in the hallway, tight pants hugging her tiny body, making the most of her slight curves. A green top, two sizes too small, showed off her small, pert breasts. “Water, food, a blowjob .…”
“Just some quiet. I want my head straight before the fights.” Laying down in front of him, the wolf formed a stygian barrier between him and the rest of the world. An offering of safety given without expectation or price.
Tension coiled and bubbled in the room as Candy watched from the threshold of the kitchen. The tension followed her when she left the room, leaving Cesare and the wolf in silence. He liked sitting with the wolf; the world swirling around them, its tempestuous glory unable to touch them. There were no questions, no tomorrows, no hungers to feed.
Hours later, he was staring outside the window of the Frankenstein truck. He couldn’t help but wonder what would come of tonight. Would he take another step toward birthing himself into a low rent version of Blaez? Hungering for the dreams of the weak, twisted needs wedded to the flesh of the helpless, a world of fear and pain born to sate his wanton desires.
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice them arrive, the whining of the engine winding down bringing him back from his thoughts. Taking the wall around the building, they came to the crimson coated light. Jumping up the steps with a fierce smile, Candy reeled back to kick the door. She stumbled as it was yanked open by a grinning Rocky.
“Not today, jailbait,” Rocky said, opening the door wide for them to enter. The man kept his eyes on the wolf as they walked past, fingers laying on the butt of the gun holstered at his side.
Six people eyed Cesare as he walked across the room. Swiping a chair, he set it against a friendly piece of wall, waiting until he’d sat before returning the probing looks with one of his own. There were only three fighters tonight, but these were a different breed than last night.
Yesterday had been pretty boys, shiny and bright, ridden hard to prove they weren’t weak. None of them had been true professionals. The guys he’d fought last night were fighters, but it was a job. The fighter’s tonight weren’t trained fighters, they were born fighters. It wasn’t something they did; it was who they were. The ones from yesterday had never been in a fight they couldn’t walk away from. These guys had.
They were older, not in years but in roads walked. Running the gambit from scruffy to clean shaven, hard times clung to them in shadowed eyes and scarred bodies. Each possessed a presence, dark and violent, it filled the concrete room and sent a copper taste across Cesare’s tongue.
The three men were spaced out around the room, sitting in blazingly colored kiddie chairs. Draped with warm towels, they kept their heads down as fluffers attended their needs. Massaging shoulders, arms, or legs, each woman insured her fighter was supple and warm, relaxed and ready.
“You need anything?” Standing next to him with her hands on the back of a chair, Candy glared at the fluffers. The other women were on a different level. They knew how to get their fighters in top form, ready in mind and body for a crippling fight where only the strong walked out. It was more than a checklist to get done, it was an almost supernatural sense of what their fighters needed, not just physically but mentally. They weren’t quick fucks against a wall, they were professionals practiced in the art of pulling the best out of their fighters.
“No, nothing.” Candy whipped away from glaring at the woman to eye him.
“You sure? They have those wrap things for your hands, or some water, or .…” She trailed into silence. She’d never done this before; never had a fighter in this room beyond last night. And then she’d been so sure he’d lose that she hadn’t given thought to helping him.
“I don’t wear fancy shorts or wrap my hands; I’ve never been in a fight where I could change clothes. My teacher told me to fight as I am, that the more stuff I think I need, become more excuses of why I lost.” He gestured at the fighters, his voice carrying in the quiet room. “They wear tight shorts to prevent anyone from getting a grip on them. The wraps guard their fists, they can hit harder, shoot for the head without worrying about a broken hand. They’re massaging the fighter’s muscles to keep them warm and supple without tiring them out with shadow boxing.”
“And you don’t need any of that because you’re so bad ass, right?” Slinking across the room, the lithe woman took her time, wanting Cesare to see the full package.