by Logan Jacobs
“Indeed, Nova,” Grizz said and bristled with a bit of pride. “It was in the middle of my second decade as champion--”
“Jesus!” I blurted out. Grizz just continued as if I hadn't said anything, which was probably for the best.
“--and it provided many interesting challenges. Not the least of which was figuring out how to get our weapons to work underwater.”
“Good point, Grizz,” Artemis chimed in. “Hydrogen when combined with two parts oxygen and a mixture of sodium, chloride, magnesium, sulfate, calcium, and potassium is one of the most corrosive substances in the mega-verse. It eats through armor, weapons, and gums up weapons firing systems like no other.”
“Boats are nothing but floating money pits,” I added as if it was relevant.
Everyone just looked at me.
“Yes, thank you, Artemis,” Grizz said, “we had a famous weapons master and armorsmith who worked with our Alliance back then. Carry Dar’Tor. The man was a wizard with devices that could main and kill. A true artist of destruction. I loved him like a brother. Alas, like so many others from the Crucible’s Golden Age, he has crossed over to the great battlefield beyond where I hope he has built weapons for the gods to smite those that lay before them. With joy.”
Everyone nodded in agreement while I just sort of stared at Grizz and hoped my mouth wasn’t open.
“Touching, Grizz,” I finally said.
“Thank you,” Grizz replied, completely missing my subtle sarcasm. “I do know that his son, Darry Dar’Tor, took over his workshop. We should see if he will do work for our Alliance. We will need considerable upgrades now that we are Silver Tier.”
“Is it that big a jump, sugar?” Aurora asked as one of her fingers traced invisible lines on the table next to her that, I swear to god, were kind of in the shape of a penis.
“Bags-ma-sheeps,” Artemis said with conviction. I stared at her for a second and then burst out laughing. A second later PoLarr did the same. Everyone else looked at us as if we were the crazy one.
“Artie, did you mean, totes-ma-goats?” I was able to gasp out between fits of laughter.
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“God, I love you,” I said as PoLarr and I finally got control of ourselves. “I’m sorry, please continue.”
“As Grizz and I were saying,” Artie huffed. “Yes. It is that big a jump. Only twelve percent of champions make it this far, so, congrats for not dying everyone, yay.”
“Salutations for continuing to draw breath, indeed,” Grizz added, “but this means that those champions who have advanced are true warriors. Bloodthirsty, ruthless survivors who fight as much with their brains as they do their formidable weapons.”
“There is also a much larger jump between Silver and Gold tiers,” Artemis said. “Many champions stay Silver Tier for years, as they strengthen their alliances and flesh out their skill trees and weapons upgrades.”
“Awesome,” I said with kind of a smug smirk. I was getting a little dickish which meant I was hungry. I either needed a Snickers or lunch or else I was going to go full Joe Pesci.
“Aw, someone is hungry,” Artemis said with a light-hearted smile.
“I’m so hungry I could eat the ass end out of a dead--” PoLarr started to say, but then she turned to me. “Havak! I swear to all that is holy, your memories are crushing my will to live.”
“Every day is a gift,” I joked and winked at PoLarr.
“I say we try the new Earth restaurant that opened up just the other day,” Aurora said as she licked her lips. Good gravy, everything she did was driving me nuts.
“If they have large quantities of seared animal flesh, then yes, I concur,” Nova affirmed. “I too am famished.”
“If they serve American food,” I started, “then there will be copious amounts of seared animal flesh. Usually coated in melted curdled bovine excretions.”
“That sounds tremendous.” Nova grinned with hungry eyes.
“You all enjoy your mid-day meal,” Grizz said as he started to dematerialize. “I’m going to see if I can locate Darry.”
Once Grizz was gone, we all put away the rest of our combat gear, washed up quick, and as a big group headed out for lunch.
When we got outside the Hall of Champions, the bright midnight moonlight hit me in the face, and I had to squint a bit before my Occuhancers automatically adjusted to the light. It was like having sunglasses for my eyeballs. Whatever weird solar system this planet resided in had night for day and day for night. It was really freaky at first to see two giant moons that blazed almost as bright as a sun during what should have been daylight hours and a sun as dark and luminous as a moon when it was supposed to be night but I’d gotten used to it.
We crossed through the large courtyard in front of the Hall of Champions, and I still had to marvel at the level of commotion and diversity in Valience city, which was the capital of the planet I still didn’t have a name for other than “the place where I live and fight for my life practically daily”. Which had a nice ring to it, I thought. A thousand different alien lifeforms, some humanoid in nature, most not, hustled and bustled around the courtyard and through the city. Hover-cars and hover-trucks zoomed through the air in traffic that cut through the sky like lines of jet-propelled ants.
As we were about to cross the street, a group of about fifteen aliens screamed and yelled as if they had seen Bruno Mars, and it took me a second before I realized they were screaming at us. One of them held a sign that read:
OCTOVARIANS LOVE TEAM HAVAK!
“Hey, check that out.” I pointed out as we made our way across the busy main avenue. Everyone turned and looked. Artemis and Aurora smiled, Nova shook her head like a disappointed parent, and PoLarr just shrugged.
“Oh, fans!” Artemis exclaimed.
“They look positively delicious,” Aurora drawled with a bit of an almost evil smirk.
“Sycophants,” Nova grumbled.
PoLarr checked her watch and adjusted a few buttons on it as if she couldn’t be bothered.
“Not a fan of fans?” I asked Nova as we made our way through the heavy pedestrian traffic. “Someone knows where we are going, right?”
“Yes,” Artemis said as she took my hand. “It’s just around the corner.”
“No, Marc,” Nova said after she took a moment to think about my question. “We fight for survival and the betterment of our respective homeworlds. This is not some parlor game for the peasants to rejoice over.”
“I guess I see your point,” I nodded, “Earthlings have it our DNA it appears. Ever since the Romans, we’ve enjoyed watching others fight. Gladiators, bare-knuckle boxing, hell, it could even be extended to the NFL, Ultimate Fighting, and Real Housewives.”
“Most races are the same, Marc,” PoLarr interjected. “We’ve had entire conflicts broadcasted on Tartarus Major. It’s nothing new to me.”
“Paladin Prime has been embroiled in feudal conflicts for a thousand years,” Nova said quietly. “Fighting and bloodshed is a daily occurrence. There is no allure to watching others spill blood.”
I was amazed that Nova had revealed so much. She was usually very reserved when it came to herself and her home. Part of me swelled with a bit of affection. It meant she felt like we were more like family. I was going to ask her some questions, but I forgot all about them when we turned the corner, and I immediately saw the eating establishment we were headed to.
It looked like the whole two-story building was made out of garish neon lights. Like Las Vegas fucked Time Square, and this building was the demented offspring of decadent excess. A giant holographic sign revolved around the top of the building that read:
STUFF YOUR GUT - A FINE EARTH CUISINE ESTABLISHMENT
“I’m going to guess that is the place?” I said to no one.
A long line stretched out of the front door and around the block.
“Looks like we’re going to be waiting about a few thousand years to get seated,” I huffed as I started to
count the people in line.
Artemis winked at me as she led us to the front of the line and through the front doors.
If I thought the outside was over the top, the inside made the outside seem like a plain sheet of white paper.
Server-bots that were modeled after what looked like every era in Earth's history. There were server-bots who looked like cavemen, others who wore elaborate Egyptian hairdos and beards, while others had on full suits of medieval armor or looked like old west cowboys. The place was packed.
Artemis went up to a maitre’d that was a long-necked, two-headed alien that had octopus tentacles for hands as it talked to multiple people at once, and its hands flew over a seating chart. As she got close one head snapped over to her, as if it sensed her presence.
“Hallo, and welcome to Bust Your Gut, do you have a reservation?” Maitre’d asked in a thick French accent.
“Yes,” Artemis replied with authority. I loved her bossy take charge attitude. “Team Havak, reservation for lunch for five.”
As soon as she said Team Havak the Maitre’d’s other head rotated over with a huge smile on its face.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome, Team Havak,” the Maitre D said in an almost smarmy, used car salesman voice. “We have a lovely booth for you on our Renaissance level. Francois, please escort Team Havak to their table. Bon appétit.”
“Nice, Artie,” I whispered to her and kissed her on the cheek.
“Thank you,” She said and smiled huge.
Francois, a small host-bot with a big Georgian wig on its tiny metallic head, led us through the crowded restaurant to a lift not unlike the ones Artie and I had ridden in the night club Zaa that led us up to the second level and into a section of the floor that was decked out in Classical Artis chic.
The floor was a replica of the Sistine Chapel and little models of Da Vinci’s weird inventions floated through the air carrying plates of food. Francois led us to a plush velvet booth and handed each of us a menu printed on parchment paper. We all slid into the booth and began to look over the menu.
There were dishes from every continent as the words danced across the page with little animations like a newspaper from a Harry Potter movie. It had items like day old elk boiled in a rock pit, haggis, an assortment of beans and maize, and hundreds of other not mouth-watering dishes.
“Oh, pickled shark intestine sounds yummy,” Artemis said with a smile.
“What is poi?” Nova asked.
“I think I might try the ambergris with calf foot jelly,” PoLarr said excitedly.
“Hmm, I can’t decide between stewed swan or turtle soup, what do you like better, Marc?” Aurora asked me as if it was a decision between linguine alfredo or chicken parmesan. I managed to choke down the bile that had risen from my stomach to look for something we could actually all eat.
“You know what?” I said when I saw something that might just fit the bill. “Humans didn’t have the greatest track record with things like food borne illness or taste pre about nineteen forty or so. If you guys trust me, I’ll order for the table.”
“Works for me,” PoLarr said as she set her menu down on the table.
Nova, Aurora, and Artemis all nodded their heads in agreement.
Our waiter bot, dressed as an Elizabethan prostitute, come over to the table.
“Oi!” she said in a very over-pronounced Cockney accent. “What will you ‘ave tonight, guv'nor?”
“Psst,” I whispered as I beckoned her to bend over, and then I whispered our order to her.
“Cheerio, cumin right up, blimey!” she shouted and motored off. I wondered for a moment if I could maybe get hired as an Earth consultant for the joint because they had a long way to go. Then I realized I’d have no time.
A runner bot puttered over and sat five large ice-filled glasses of dark liquid with tiny bubbles that burst and effervesced on the surface.
“Ladies,” I said as everyone was ready to drink, “I give you, Coca-Cola!”
Everyone took big sips, and I watched as their faces lit up like a damn commercial, and they all moaned in some form of ecstasy. Soon all four of their glasses were empty.
“That was the single most delicious thing I have ever had in my mouth,” PoLarr practically shouted, and I refrained from the million jokes that ran through my head in that single moment.
“Oh my god,” Aurora gasped as if on the edge of an orgasm, “I would like more of that immediately.”
Nova just stared into oblivion as if her mind could not handle what had just happened to her taste buds.
“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Artemis said as the sugar and caffeine hit her blood stream. Then she punched me in the arm, hard. “Why have you kept that glorious elixir sent from the highest order of whatever beings control the universe to yourself, you selfish jerk?”
I smiled like the cat who just ate the canary, or drank the Coke.
“That ladies is the second greatest beverage ever invented by mankind, Coca-Cola,” I said with great authority. “The first being the dark, black, frothy liquid gold that is Guiness Stout, but I digress. I am stoked you all like it.”
Everyone nodded vigorously in approval. Another round appeared without us having to say a word and then Francois reappeared. I assumed our main course was ready.
A moment later, a giant tray, carried by four runner-bots, was set down on the table and there was a stunned silence not only from our table but from practically the entire restaurant.
The platter held the Mount Everest of food towers. There were huge burgers on the base which dripped melty Swiss cheese in great globs. Next were an assortment of fries, onion rings, and tater tots which was then followed by a layer of chili cheese dogs. Then five footlong Philly cheese steak sandwiches. And to cap it all off? A two-pound porterhouse steak that still sizzled from the grill.
“Thank you, Francois,” I said then turned back to the table, “Ladies, I give you the America, Fuck Yeah! Platter. Enjoy.”
Chapter Two
“Havak, I don’t know whether to kiss you or punch you right in the mouth,” Aurora groaned from the chair she had slumped into the second we returned from lunch.
Artemis was completely asleep at her computer terminal. A bit of drool ran down the side of her cheek and pooled on the keypad. It was gross and adorable all at the same time. PoLarr had curled up on a bench in the locker room and snored softly. Again, adorable.
The only one who had come through the America, Fuck Yeah! Experience unscathed was Nova. She’d come back, stripped down to her skin-tight workout shorts and sports bra and began to lift weights. She’d taken a keen liking to Earth powerlifting and blew through a set of clean and jerks with what I added up to be about eight hundred pounds. To put that in perspective, the record on earth was about six hundred pounds. She struggled with the weight but blew through the reps, nonetheless.
I went to send a witty rejoinder back at Aurora, but she too was asleep by the time I turned to her.
“Lightweights,” I chuckled and burped. Truth be told, the only reason I was still awake was that I’d ordered a quadruple espresso on the way out.
“By the Fiery Catapult of Courage, what did you do, Havak?” Grizz boomed as he appeared. It was apparently a casual afternoon for the hulking holographic space barbarian because he had on knee-length leather boots, a thigh-length kilt like loincloth, a half cape, and nothing else.
“Good gravy, Grizz,” I exclaimed as he strode over to where I sat next to the weapons rack. “Give a guy some warning.”
“Does my magnificent form bother you, Havak?” he asked as he propped his foot up on the bench next to me so that his crotch was practically in my face.
“Nope,” I said as I tried to look elsewhere. “Not at all.”
“Well it should.” He smiled. I was pretty sure he knew how ridiculous he was being and was enjoying the hell out of himself. “Gaze upon the physique of a warrior.”
“I’m good, Grizz,” I chuckled. “My gaze is all fu
ll at the moment. I may have over-ordered at lunch and everyone but Nova is in a food coma.”
“Ah, yes,” Grizz nodded knowingly. “Understood. On my planet, we call it ‘The Sleep of Many Flatulences’.”
“Good to know, Grizz,” I said after I finished laughing. “Hey, did you get in touch with your friend's son?”
“Most certainly,” Grizz responded and motioned for me to walk over to the command center. “In fact, he should be holo-comming any moment now. He wanted to talk to you before he agreed.”
There was a loud clank as Nova dropped the heavy weight, grabbed a towel to wipe off the sexy sheen of sweat she’d worked up, and walked over to us. Just as she did, there was a trilling noise from the command center. Grizz made a motion with his finger and suddenly Darry Dar’Tor appeared before us.
It was all I could do not to jump back reflexively when his hologram appeared next to Grizz.
Darry was a five and a half foot tall, bright orange praying mantis with an eye patch over one eye and a stubby, mushy, cigar that hung out of his mouth-mandible. He had on a thick, leather work apron with all sorts of cool looking tools shoved into its many pockets.
“Grizz!” Darry said in a deep echoey insectile voice. “You old shield maiden, you. It has been too long.”
“Darry,” Grizz responded with a big smile, “you shell of guts, how have you been?”
“Eh,” Darry grunted. It sounded like a mushy click. “Still fixin firearms day in and day out, but hey, it’s a living.”
“You are not saying anything slippery to a can of Gundorf grease, my friend,” Grizz chuckled.
“So,” Darry said as his wide-set eyes settled on me, which made me tremendously unsettled. “Is this the young upstart? Huh? Thought he’d be taller, more muscular, and tough looking.”
“I get that a lot,” I said as I tried to hide my eyeroll. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Eh,” Darry grunted again then turned back to Grizz, “I gotta be honest, Grizz, I’m not sure. I know you and my old man went way back, and I gotta lot of good memories of you from when I was a nymph, but you guys are a risky business venture.”
