Overlord Brawl: Book 1 of the Neon Octopus Ally Series

by L. A. Johnson

  It had been good advice too. He knew this place would work as soon as he saw it. The real estate agent took one look at his long, greasy hair and his full sleeve tattoos and turned her nose up when Froggy had suggested a showing of this place. Her remains were now under a plant somewhere in the foyer.

  That's what you get for making assumptions, people. That was another one of Soda's rules: "Don't let other people treat you badly anymore." Truth be told, that was the one that had stuck with him. If it hadn't been for that rule, he would probably have gotten his money back on the entire course. Listening to her drone on and on was nearly insufferable. But the advice, some of it was first-rate. It helped him to focus on his goals.

  A goth helper approached him and offered him a tall, frothy beverage. "Beer?"

  That's what I'm talking about, Froggy thought. "Yes, thank you." He took the beer and placed it on the console in front of him that had the recessed drink holders built in. In front of him on a large screen was the security footage of Soda checking in at the plaza. She had done it under a fake name, but it was her just the same. She was right here in Arcturis. It was just the mano y neon octopus fight that he wanted so he could prove himself to the masses and become Overlord of the galaxy. He took in a few deep breaths.

  Another goth approached him. This one was his girlfriend.

  "Hey, Lance. I have a question. Why at exactly five thirty-eight p.m.? I mean, it really does seem terribly random."

  He swiveled his chair away from the console screen to face her. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Froggy?"

  She held up her hands. "Sorr-y, Froggy."

  "The others can hear you," he whisper-hissed. He took another deep breath, looking up to the graffiti styled artwork he had commissioned for the ceiling. Why me? he mouthed before turning back to her. "Look, Cecilia. You need a nickname or something, because that's the worst possible name for an Overlord's sidekick."

  "You're not an Overlord yet."

  "You're pushing it, C. Yet is the important word. And believe me, when that happens you want to be on my good side. The time, the numbers in that time of day have significance to me. To me, do you understand?"

  "Not really. Since you won't tell me."

  He sighed. "Look, is everything in place?"

  "Everything's in place, Lan-, um, Froggy. Trust me."

  He took a sip of beer. "Well everything had better be ready because this is the best shot I'm going to have."

  "Why?"

  "Because I blasted her as she entered the city."

  "Yeah," Cecelia said, "I remember, and she was just fine so what was the point?"

  "The point, C, was to lull her into a false sense of security. If I knew what I know about her, then I'd be insane to hit her with a run of the mill meteor. I'd have gone for the throat right away. As it is, she has no idea what's coming or that she's actually in danger."

  Celia just made this adorable squinty face at him. "You mean you have some sort of secret weapon?"

  "Yes," he said. "Yes. Finally, somebody gets it. Rule number seventeen. Research, research, research. You remember when I was gone for like three months? Hitchhiking all around the galaxy?"

  "Yeah," Celia said. "You told me you were finding your Zen. Not looking for secret weapons."

  "I did both, baby. I did both to the max. And here I am, right here in Arcturis in the mix to become the new Overlord. Overlord Froggy."

  Celia didn't say anything. And he had to admit that it didn't have a very catchy ring to it, but that didn't matter in the slightest. "Trust me. After tonight, the whole galaxy is going to know the name Froggy."

  She stepped forward and ran a finger through his long dark hair. "I'm worried about you. These people you're up against are violent and dangerous."

  "Yes, the neon octopus is violent and powerful and dangerous. The Oracle? He's a joke. And the therapist? Don't make me laugh. I'll bet that guy didn't even take the Overlord course. He's probably just winging it."

  "Look, baby. I trust you and all," Celia said, "but do you really think that this Soda person doesn't have any tricks up her sleeve? You really think she'd just give you all the tools and tricks you'd need to beat her in this contest? For, like, less than a thousand galactic credits? I mean, who would do that? I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

  "I've got this. She did give it all away. And she did it figuring nobody was listening." He leaned in closer to her and whispered again, "I wasn't just listening to what she said, I was listening to her thoughts."

  "But Froggy, you're not a telepath."

  "No, but I got really good at reading three-dimensional body language through heat motion spectrometer and it's basically the same thing."

  "Oh man. How many infomercial courses did you take when you were travelling?"

  "None that was as good as that one. I bought the course, binge watched it, and replayed the tapes of Soda giving the lectures." He groaned. "All of those boring, useless lectures while she was manicuring her tentacles. Ick. But there it was, plain as day, if you were clever enough to see it, which I did.

  “All the information I would ever need. So you see, she gave it to me, she just didn't know it."

  Celia frowned again. She clearly didn't get it.

  "Just have all the pieces in place and get ready for my signal, okay? Later tonight, we'll be celebrating."

  31

  Ray paced back and forth in his new lair. He had upgraded everything after his old lair had been burned to the ground by that jerk Staar bounty hunter. But this location had a nice lake, more acreage, and more square footage. It was also within portal range to Arcturis City, which didn't seem like a big deal at the time, but once this new Overlord contest had kicked off it became the most important feature of all.

  The Overlord competition. That was the most-cruel irony. It should have been his crowning moment. He had waited eons for this chance. Finally, the pieces had moved into place and Soda was temporarily out of the way. The job was there for the taking for anybody bold enough to snatch it. All his dreams had come true. And now this.

  He looked up to see his troll, Chipmunk, looking worried and clutching his comfy blanket.

  "Look, everything's okay, Chippy, I just have to figure a few things out, ok?"

  Trolls could be surprisingly emotionally attuned considering they were giant, terrifying, killing machines.

  And he couldn't blame Soda for being leery of his motives. Right up until all the tea leaves turned apocalyptic, he would have never even considered helping her. The only specific piece of information he had gotten so far about the whole thing was that the galaxy needed Soda to survive. Odd, he thought. Odd, odd, odd. Of all times for this stupid, ungrateful galaxy to need his help to survive. And he was the only one who knew that something was coming.

  He was the only oracle, period. He should have been revered here since the beginning. As it was, he was only famous and rich. And revered, but only by a small percentage of the population. And what was he to them? A cheap, parlor-trick infomercial huckster.

  But I was born to rule, he thought, and this is my chance. But his powers and his gifts came with rules. So now he was going to have to fight with one hand tied behind his back while simultaneously trying to defend the galaxy from whatever stupid apocalypse was coming. Or it would all be for naught. Naught. Huh. That's a word that doesn't come up very often.

  And so, in the end, he had to give Soda a heads up about the ambush. Done. Soda was immortal anyway, as far as he knew, so his plan was to get rid of the others and survive long enough to challenge her in the end, since he was far more popular. It was a good plan. It is still a good plan, he told himself. This changes nothing. All he'd have to do now, legally speaking regarding his Oracle powers, was run the predictions one more time. Then he'd be free to brawl, free to fight, and free to claim what was rightfully his.

  He pulled out the plasma dice that were spawned from the echoes of a dying star. Every time he glanced at the
m, he could feel their magic and their wisdom through the soft yellow glow. They were extraordinary, and gave him more reach, accuracy, and lead-time warning than any other set of prediction dice in the universe. And being first in his class at the Oracle Academy, nay first in any class for forty-five eons, most of the time he didn't need the help.

  He could predict most of the mundane comings and goings in this galaxy with his eyes shut, and up until now none of it had even mattered except to make him rich. But now the dice were awake. And according to them, this throw of the dice was the most important of his life. Apparently, this entire galaxy hung in the balance.

  He frowned and grabbed the dice. They crackled with heat and electricity and vibrated in his hand. The more important the gamble, the more magic and power the dice held, and the more lives were at stake. He was surprised at how quickly things had escalated. He frowned and paused with the dice in his hand, wondering what was really going on here.

  But there was no way of knowing. Not without throwing the dice, and maybe not even after. What was clear was that big things were happening, and he was going to have to get to the bottom of it and soon. With a quick intake of breath, he threw the dice. He closed his eyes, and then he opened them. Then he peered into the machine that corralled them in the correct predictionary fashion.

  A second later, the barrage of obscene language that he began shouting made even Chipmunk hide in the corner and cover his ears.

  32

  Kirian hung up. Soda's text had been awfully specific. 5:38. Who plans an attack for that particular time? It didn't matter, though. All that mattered was that she had unfinished business with Mantix. And that she had gotten the correct people involved who could help Fleek. Hopefully.

  She figured if she could get to Mantix's office before he left for the day, then she could follow him around until five thirty-eight. But again, why exactly that time? She pulled out her cellphone and texted Soda again. A few minutes later she got a reply.

  Soda: Because I want to Godfather this whole Overlord thing. Now go away, I'm busy.

  Fine, thought Kirian, figuring that five thirty-eight was as good a time as any. Plus, the sooner she was done killing Floyd, the sooner she could get on with whatever the next step of her life would be. She couldn't help worrying about Fleek, though. Her backup plan from now until forever was always going to be to go back to the spaceship that she called home. The place where she had hatched her alter ego, Kirian, Destroyer of Planets. She was now known as a galactic badass and for good reason. That name was the best decision she had ever made. Now she had to figure out how to live up to it.

  Floyd's office came into view. She was starting to attract attention now, so she ducked into his building and out of the way. She made a fake phone call to Floyd's office and confirmed that he was still there. Then she waited.

  Turned out she didn't have to wait long before he came rushing out of his office and then out of the building. Kirian frowned. He looked worried, did he know that he was going to be attacked? Probably not, Kirian thought, Soda wasn't the gossiping type, and she wanted Floyd dead just as badly as Kirian did. Plus, as far as Kirian knew, that was his resting facial expression. He got into his car and sped off.

  Kirian had no trouble hailing a taxi. As far as she could remember, this was the first time she had ever gotten to jump into one and say those exciting words to the driver: "Follow that car." She did it with a dramatic flair that was partially diminished when the driver asked her which car, exactly.

  "That stupid yellow one two lanes over on the left," she answered.

  "Okay," he said. "Gotcha covered, sister. What'd he do? Cheat on you?"

  "Floyd? No." Kirian laughed loudly and convincingly enough that the driver turned around to get a better look at her.

  "Oh," he said and turned back around to drive. "Yeah, that guy wouldn't have a prayer with or against you in any capacity at all. Wait, you look familiar." Then he swerved across three lanes in the span of half a second. It was a nice move, and now the taxi was in perfect position to follow if Floyd turned left, but was in another lane entirely, so unlikely to be noticed.

  "Nice move," Kirian said. "You've done this sort of thing before, haven't you, um, I didn't catch your name."

  "I didn't give it," he said, spotting Floyd taking a left. He was already in the turn lane and followed. As soon as they turned, the taxi driver pulled right up on his tail and honked before changing lanes to the right and having to slow for traffic.

  "What'd you do that for?" Kirian asked.

  "If I really were following that dude, would I tailgate him, honk at him, and then change lanes?"

  "Good point. Very impressive. Just don't get close enough for him to see me."

  "Oh, he'd recognize you, would he? I swear you look familiar. Besides, it doesn't matter which lane he's in, I know where he's going already."

  "How?"

  "An asshole in a Beamer driving like he owns the place down Rockville Boulevard? He's going to Terrific Blip Studios. I guarantee it."

  This taxi driver was good. "Ok, fine. I'm impressed. Tell you what, I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours. Hi, I'm Kirian."

  The driver smacked his forehead. "Destroyer of Planets!"

  "At your service," Kirian said. At first, her secret identity was mostly known to people poking around on the dark net, but since this whole political Overlord business began, she had been alternately on and off the Galactic's Most Wanted Dead list. She had also helped save the galaxy a couple of times. Both extremes had made front page news. Now she was mainstream.

  "It's great to meet you, Kirian. I'm Ryker," he said.

  Kirian stared at him. He had blue skin, a powerful build, and long, braided hair.

  "I'd shake your hand, but I'm a little busy right now. I just want you to know I'm a big fan."

  Kirian laughed. "I gotta say, I'm impressed with you as well."

  "What's with this guy you're following anyway? If you want to pound him, you could have done so right there in the square, no doubt. Why follow him around?"

  "Well, for one, that mousy guy is an Overlord candidate."

  "Oh yeah," Ryker said. "The weakest one. So, what is this, a hit?"

  "Yes. It's a hit, but there's more."

  Ryker slammed on his breaks and yelled out the window before turning his attention back to Kirian. "Do tell, because so far it's a boring story."

  Kirian leaned forward. She figured there was no harm in telling him. After all, she didn't care whether Floyd's secret was out or not. She whispered to Ryker, "That guy you just followed? The mousy therapist known as Floyd who's running for Overlord? He's really Mantix."

  "No," Ryker said, shaking his head. "No way. Mantix is a myth, baby. If there were a real, twenty-foot Preying Mantis species running around the city believe me, I'd know."

  "More like ten feet," Kirian said.

  "You've seen him?"

  "Yes. In fact, when I attack, he's sure to change. If you stick around, you'll see something pretty special."

  Ryker pulled the car over to the shoulder and stopped. He turned to face her. "You mean to tell me that I'm about to see Kirian, Destroyer of Planets fight Mantix right here at Terrific Blip Studios?"

  "That's exactly what I'm telling you." Kirian looked at her watch. Then she felt silly, but it really didn't matter. "Exactly twelve minutes from now." Kirian and Ryker both watched as Floyd's beamer passed them and did, indeed, turn right into Terrific Blip.

  "Hey, Ryker, can you get me in there? If I have to jump the gate and fight security, it'll slow me down."

  Ryker pulled back into traffic. "I told you. I gotcha covered. I know every guard at Terrific Blip. When an actor needs to get to work incognito? I'm the one they call. I'm the secret, avoid the press, not on the list guy. Plus, you're famous. They always let famous people in." He pulled up to the guard gate a comfortable minute or two after Floyd's car had proceeded into the studio lot.

  "Darryl! Hey, man. Look who I've got in t
he car this time."

  Daryl waved hi and ducked down to look into the car. He looked into the backseat at Kirian. Then he stared harder. He looked confused for a moment, then turned back to Ryker. "Okay, I give up. Who is it?"

  Ryker held up his hands. "Are you kidding me? Don't you ever watch the news?"

  "I hate the news. You know that. Television shows, movies, webcasts, concerts and vlogs. But news? Who needs it? None of that stuff ever affects me."

  "It's about to start affecting you, dude. This is Kirian, Destroyer of Planets."

  "So? Is she on the list?"

  "No, she's not on the list. She's here on a secret mission. Something about that guy who came in right before us."

  Kirian cleared her throat in anticipation of pulling out a weapon and ‘jumping into the conversation’, but Ryker held up a hand at her and she stopped.

  "Floyd? Yeah, he's here about some emergency with his show."

  "Well, she's the fixer," Ryker said.

  Daryl bent down to peer in at Kirian again. "I thought you said she was a planet destroyer?"

  "Get with the two hundred and eighty-first century, Daryl. She can be anything she wants. If she wants to destroy planets AND fix second rate television shows, then who are you to stand in her way?"

  Daryl looked hurt. "I wouldn't call All My Wormholes a second-rate television show."

  "Well, it won't be if you let her fix it. He said it was an emergency, dude. Let us in." Ryker glanced down at his watch.

  "Hey, girl, what time did they say that they absolutely needed you there by?"

  "Five thirty-eight," Kirian said flatly. "Or nothing at all. If they're not ready by then I'm leaving. I'll fix the show, but there's a limit to how much of my time I'm willing to waste on these people."

  "Did you hear that, Daryl?" Ryker shook his head. "She's gonna leave and not fix your stupid show. Is that what you want?"

  Daryl was thinking about it. "What time did you say?"

  "Five thirty-eight, dude. Aren't you listening?"

  Daryl sighed. "You guys have a point. Only famous people and movers and shakers are that stupidly specific. No offense, ma'am."