by Jack Hammond
The two would sit for a moment, making sure she was alright. She would blame it on sleep walking and the banging on the door would most likely be explained away by the overturned table and vase of flowers. While in a deep sleep, noises and sounds are often related to the dreams you’re having. When we’re dreaming and the sound of an alarm in the outside world breaks through, often the dream will add an element to explain the noise. That's the darkness, somewhere, somehow you have wondered into their sights. They need you to be a little late one day, wear something you wouldn’t normally. It was part of a larger picture, it's only on occasions such as these, people were used so freely.
Eventually the two convinced each other everything was as it should be, luckily for Max it all went according to plan and the man returned. The sound of the flat doors clunking shut marking the start of the next phase. Max listened as the man stomped sleepily into the bedroom, before the creek of the bed signalled Max was free to relax a little. He came out from behind the curtain quietly, perching himself on the edge of the sofa, he waited.
Max felt the card inside his pocket, the symbol upon it would soon be put to use again. Max needed to remove the target’s necklace as he had done with Martin and then replace it with the new one. That’s when he would meet Max’s employer, the shifting vaporous darkness that had saved Max and given him new purpose. Hopefully he would not refuse the expanse's proposal; he would hate to watch another man suffer the way Martin had. Max still had the image of Martin’s gasping face, trying to draw in air without success. The truth was he doubted he would ever forget that image as long as he lived.
The time seemed to move slowly, Max had been watching the clock on the DVD player. Positioned on the shelf below the forty two inch plasma television, the light brown unit was clearly a flat pack item, Ikea no doubt supplying ninety percent of his target’s household items. A noise flowed from the bedroom, gratefully received by Max’s ears, a low grunting nasal sound. Sometimes a little louder but returning to a low grunt, a few deep breaths later. Max made his way towards the room, each step corresponding with a snore. He looked in from the doorway. The burly man was more muscular than Max had anticipated. He would never have guessed under that cheap suit he was actually well chiselled.
Max moved around the bed passing the window. The open curtains allowing the moonlight to stream in, the wind outside the open window seemed to aid his sleep. Max saw his warrant card on the desk. He couldn't resist, he wanted to know his name. He opened it and saw a picture of him along with his name, Paul Ruben, Max glanced at him. He didn’t look like a Paul, even less like a Ruben. He moved over to the bed, names were not really important, Max had used many and none were any more or less important than the one his mother had given him. The temperature in the flat helped Max. The man lay out stretched on the bed, without using covers.
Open windows in the dead of winter, lying semi naked on a bed with your heating on full blast. He was an unusual man, but that didn't matter. Max only needed to remove his necklace and his work was done. Max froze. His eyes scanned across the man’s neck. No necklace, he thought. This wasn’t possible. Every operative no matter how low in the organisation had to wear the symbol. He worked with Sarah Mather there was no way anyone could be that close to her without the precaution of being initiated into the fold. He looked at his wrists, fingers, even his ankles. This was not right, he told himself.
Max stepped back towards the desk and looked around the room. He checked his key ring, wallet, even quietly opened his desk draws. The protective symbol had to be somewhere nearby. Somewhere Max had not thought of. He was getting a little flustered; everything had been going too well. It was inevitable he would hit a snag along the way. There's no such thing as a perfect assignment. There were always hitches. That was the point, you had to earn your stripes, when you learn to adapt and overcome the obstacles. Max stood in the doorway, he’d have to check his coat next he thought. Paul’s grunt shot up in volume suddenly, Max quickly faced him. He’d rolled onto his back. Max gave a sigh of relief, before gaping open mouthed at the man’s chest.
He was well built, solid pectorals, even the start of abdominal muscles. That wasn’t what had caught Max’s attention, Max had found his obstacle, and it was a big one. On closer inspection, Max confirmed the tattoo on his chest was indeed the symbol he had been looking for. He walked quietly back into the front room. What did he do now? He asked himself. Max had never seen a symbol in the form of a tattoo before, it was always a piece of jewellery, a necklace in almost every case, how could he work around a tattoo?
For his assignment to work, he would need Paul Ruben to be closer to the expanse’s mark than the Associates one. But that was impossible. Max gulped hard at the thought. He would have to remove it. That meant cutting it from his skin. Max sat himself down on the chair once again, could he do that? He asked himself. Could you actually cut this man? Actually remove the flesh from his body to complete the mission? He pressed himself for an answer. There was only one choice. No choice at all.
Chapter Eight
The burning flames of the cauldrons seared brightly, illuminating the darkest corners of the pit. The shadows from the light licked against the walls and stone pillars. Black glassy marble spanned the entirety of the fighter's den, above was the sound of rumbling footsteps as the amphitheatre filled. Row upon row, tier upon tier increased in volume. The arena sand trembled as the spectators filed in and took their seats in anticipation of the upcoming clashes.
The stone doors rumbled open as the contenders entered the pit, each one ready to do battle on the golden sands of the colosseum. All the talk which echoed around the chamber concerned the new fighter that had emerged, with power beyond any other before him. The stone benches were soon filled, each group of fighters taking their places. Darren took his place on the stone and waited for the arrival of his friends. Tonight’s clashes promised to be some of the most anticipated in the colosseum’s history, the clash between Sadie and Chris Grim had been over shadowed by Wesley’s appearance.
His mind was far from Sadie’s challenge, Wesley had shown the type of skill and ability no other newcomer possessed and it had become the only issue people were interested in. Darren didn’t know what to make of Wesley’s win, the idea his strength coming from his lesser manifestation was the only plausible explanation but he gave it no credence. He wasn’t happy at Wesley’s success, he was a little threatened. But he couldn’t possibly continue winning. He would have to lose to someone eventually.
Avoiding eye contact with anyone he just stared at the marble floor, his thoughts drifting from one line of possibilities to another.
Darren would be challenging Chris Grim after Sadie’s clash tonight no matter what the outcome. Yet he was less concerned with his clash, than with Wesley’s.
Sadie entered the arena next. She joined her friend on the grey granite seat. They didn’t need to exchange words for Sadie to see Darren was despondent, never looking up from the marble.
“What’s up, Darren?” she asked, placing a hand on his arm.
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it.” She continued.
“Don’t worry about me. You focus on your battle tonight.”
“I think I can handle Grim, I have a few ideas.”
Darren frowned, finally looking her in the eye, “He’s two echelons higher than you and he’s on a win streak of six. Don’t under estimate him Sadie.”
“I don’t,” she retorted. “I know I can take him.”
“I know you’re good but you can’t take him for granted.” Darren warned his eyes steely and cold, his seriousness plain for Sadie to see.
Alwin made his way towards the pair, his eyes moving around the crowds of contenders. The amount of fighters was more than Alwin had ever seen, he was aware it was because of Wesley. Many of these people would want to challenge him, the rest wanting to see his next clash, him included.
“Hey, boys and girls,” Alwin greeted his
friends, the atmosphere was taut, he could sense the disharmony. “Looking forward to the clash?” Alwin was well aware this conversation had little to do with Sadie’s upcoming battle and more to do with Wesley’s rise in popularity. He’d seen this coming from the moment Wesley slammed his hammer into Hanson.
Sadie looked up from the uncomfortable discussion. “Yeah, I’m hoping for a streak of six tonight.”
“You’ve got my backing babe, you know that.” Alwin replied sitting next to Sadie, “No Wes yet?” his question got a rise from Darren.
“No, not yet,” Sadie replied ignoring her friends attempt to goad Darren. “You’ll know when he does arrive.”
Alwin looked at Darren’s face as he replied. “He’ll be mobbed like a rock star.” Alwin’s smirk grew as he saw Darren’s reaction.
Sadie jabbed an elbow into Alwin’s ribs, before shooting him a vicious glare.
Their attention was drawn away from Alwin’s attempts at riling Darren, the contenders rushing from their places towards the stone doors. Wesley had arrived. Wesley felt the full force of the heaving masses push against him and he struggled to fight his way through. He knocked away challenging hands, trying to get to his friends in hopes of some help with selecting his next opponent.
“No thanks, not challenging yet,” Wesley continued to repeat, as he pushed through.
Finally reaching the bench the challengers still swarmed around him, Darren, Sadie and Alwin all looking at him with great interest.
“This is crazy.” Wesley admitted.
“You think?” Alwin replied sarcastically.
Darren moved up the bench reluctantly, allowing Wesley room to sit. All eyes were on him once again as he took a seat, reminding him of the moment he stepped off of the sand the previous night. He’d noticed Darren had stopped looking at him and it seemed Alwin was right; he was threatened by his presence.
“What times your clash Sadie?” Wesley asked.
“In about an hour. There are a few fights before though.”
“Sadie’s going for six on the spin.” Alwin remarked.
“Nice one, what about you Darren?”
“What about me?” he responded coldly.
Wesley was unsettled by his tone. “Who do you fight next?”
Darren shrugged, “The person Sadie’s fighting, win or lose we challenge each other’s opponents.”
“Oh, right.” He exchanged looks with Alwin.
“I’m not fighting tonight Wes, in case you’re interested?” he joked.
“Sorry, are you planning on taking a clash?”
“Maybe, might try an echelon six.” He explained. “What about you, you going for an echelon two or an echelon ten?” he laughed.
Darren stood up and moved away from the group. Sadie fired a look at Alwin angrily, “You’re trying to wind him up?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault,” Alwin protested. “Can I help it of he’s got issues with Wes?”
“Give it a rest.” Sadie said chasing after Darren.
“See Wes, I called it. To be honest I didn’t think he’d get like this so soon.” Alwin revelled in his intuition of the situation.
“This is not what I wanted or expected,” sighed Wesley.
“Want to know what to do?” Alwin asked.
“Yeah, what do I do?”
“Carry on clashing, win. Win as many as you can, rub it in his face. Once he sees it’s not a fluke, he’ll come around.”
“How’d you think that will work?”
“I know your win wasn’t a fluke, you were too powerful.” Alwin declared. “That’s how people like him work. Trust me, once you’ve won a few more fights he’ll want to be friends so you don’t challenge him.”
“I wouldn’t anyway.”
“Don’t be so quick, it may be in your best interests to clash him,” Alwin remarked slyly, “over Sadie.”
“Sadie?” Wesley scowled, “What's she got to do with it?”
“Come on don’t play coy with me, Wes. You’re a boy, she’s a girl and all that.”
“No!” Wesley countered enraged at his comment.
“Whatever, but when you open your eyes remember this conversation.” Alwin retorted.
He shuffled along the granite moving closer to Super Alwin, glancing at him, Wesley saw him smile. “What should I take on?”
"It’s up to you." His attention was more focused on Darren and Sadie’s conversation. "You know she’ll get bored with his brooding ego, don't you?"
“So?”
“The ignorance of youth,” Alwin cawed like he was a man of the world.
“Come on. Do you think I should go for someone my level or higher?” Wes tried to ignore his comments about Sadie.
“You shouldn't go lower, that's for sure? I wouldn’t clash you and I’m more experienced.”
“So what should I do?”
“Challenge a three.” Alwin said plainly. No hint of sarcasm, he was serious.
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Wesley readily agreed.
“What just happened?” Alwin asked dramatically. “Did you just take my advice?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“But you take no notice of what I’m telling you about Sadie?” He quizzed.
“No, it’s not like that.” Wesley said, trying in vain to deceive Alwin. He was interested, and he really hoped every word Alwin said would come true. Wesley just wanted to remain distant from it, not be directly involved, even though it appeared he may be the cause. Could he do that? He asked himself.
He stomped across the pit, Charlie Sovell’s gaze fixed firmly upon the new fish in the tank. His ginger hair parted like curtains, framing his freckled face like a work of art. He stuck out a hand as he came to a halt, not in greeting but in challenge. “I am an echelon three, red ogre.” He declared. “Two losses, three wins. I formally challenge you.”
Alwin turned to Wes and smirked. “He’s a red ogre, would you have guessed that?” his jovial remark had no effect on the challenger.
“No, I wouldn’t.” Wes shook his head.
“I think you should accept after what we were just saying.”
“I have a slot in a few hours.” Charlie said. “I want to fight you tonight.”
Wesley didn’t hesitate and gripped the boys hand tightly. The urgency to return to the sand was too strong, “I accept,” the glimmer surrounding their hands, ending the conversation.
“Well, that’s you sorted.” Alwin swung himself around on the bench and folded his legs. “A ginger being a red ogre, will wonders never cease?”
“Ogre,” Wes whispered under his breath. His mind suddenly raced, Alwin’s sarcasm had detracted Wesley from what the boy had said.
“Did you say something?”
“Err… he’s an ogre.”
“No Wes, he’s a red ogre. Two losses, three wins.” He laughed.
Wesley thought about the page in his sketch book, how had known he would fight an ogre. Was Wesley’s subconscious working everything out and not telling him, running on some kind of autopilot?
“You’re not worried are you?” Alwin reacted to the look etched across Wesley’s face. “He’s echelon three, man.”
Wes didn’t respond his thoughts remained on the page, the graphite image that would soon come true, just as the last one had. But still, the unnerving image of death between the pages still had no relevance. What did that mean? Why was it there?
“Wes, you can beat him!” he pushed him in the shoulder.
“Yeah, I know.” The shove helping to pull him clear of the abyss of doubts and questions he had yet again fallen into.
“That’s more like it.” He whooped. “Confidence, I like it.”
Darren and Sadie stood amongst the fighters, but may as well been miles apart. No one looked at them or listened, they were alone in a sea of people. “Why are you so worked up?” Sadie began.
“I’m not.”
“Yes you are, is it Wes? Are you mad at him, really?”
&n
bsp; Darren looked anywhere but at her. “No.”
“So you’re worried about challenging Grim? You don’t have to, it’s up to you.”
“I’m not scared of him!” his eyes now filled with anger.
“I didn’t say you were. But you’re acting funny if it’s not that, and it’s not Wesley. What is it?” she knew he was concerned about Wes, so was she, but she didn’t let it show.
“He shouldn’t be able to do what he did.” The truth came out. “The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. How the hell could he do it?”
“I won’t lie, I have my reservations about him.”
“You do? Thank God! Alwin’s not bothered, he’s all for him.” He sneered as he mentioned Alex Winter. “Little suck up.”
“He’s not bothered about anything. He’s one of those people who does crazy stuff for a good cause and doesn't care most people think he's nuts.”
“Alwin isn’t sucking up to him for a good cause!” Darren pointed out.
“He's trying to be a friend.” Sadie explained.
“We don’t need him. We’re doing fine on our own. After tonight you’re on six. I doubt he’ll reach six.”
“Why are you so mad?” she said.
“I don’t know. I just don’t like it.” Darren admitted. “I don’t like him.”
The first clash had gotten underway. Darren and Sadie had remained at a distance from Wesley and Alwin. The pair still sat on the bench, the occasional contender still coming over to meet Wesley. He felt less like a fighter and more like a new addition to the zoo. People were gawping at him, like he was an endangered panda, shipped over here from China.
“If I throw peanuts at you, do you think the park ranger will kick me out?” Alwin laughed as if he'd read Wesley’s mind.
“Very funny,” his dejected reply even annoyed himself. Wes wished Luke was here, he’d back him up. He was a friend he could rely on, someone who wouldn’t care if he won or lost, he didn’t judge him. He knew where he stood with Luke.
