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Chapter 27 - Prove yourself

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Athira planted herself into the carpet and folded her arms, staring down the man and his two lumps of muscle as they approached.

Same clothes as when he came in. Found you, Chief.

 “What, need those two to catch you if you fall over?” said Athira. “Are they your crutches to accommodate your age?”

“So quick to belittle me,” replied Chief with a frown. “After I went through all the trouble to deal with you personally.”

Athira raised an eyebrow. “You say that like you didn’t jump at the chance to have the Owl as your errand girl.”

The chief pursed his lips. “And yet you’re back already. I do hope you have the item I requested, or these two will be awfully upset.”

The muscle lumps grunted in unison, and Athira had to resist the urge to laugh.

Like they’d be a problem for me. She shook her head and reached behind her, fingers closing over the small bag tucked away in the folds of her cloak. Like anyone on this whole planet is a problem for me.

Don’t get cocky, said Talon. There has to be someone, Thira.

If there were, this situation would be over. I’d have sought them out and I’d be dead.

Athira presented the bag on her palm. “I suggest you pick something slightly more challenging next time if you want to keep me entertained.”

Chief’s eyes lit up, greed running through the iris in a flash of electric blue colour before he managed to suppress it. “Interesting,” he breathed. “Very, very interesting.”

“Glad you find a bag so fascinating,” said Athira, shielding the bag with her fingers and pulling it back to her side. “But not all of us are so intrigued by it and would like the information we were promised.”

“Ah, yes.” Chief cleared his throat. “If I may be so bold, I wish to invite you to my booth to discuss a rather important matter with you,” he said, gesturing to the sectioned off area of the room he’d walked over from. “I assure you, it will not be a waste of time.”

“It better not be, or my apprentice and I shall be rather annoyed.” Athira glanced back at Shift, who watched the conversation in silence behind her.

He’s holding up nicely.

She met eyes again with Chief before adding, “and he’ll be awfully upset.”

Chief licked his lips. “I was rather hoping to speak with you alone.”

“Do your muscle men not count as people anymore?” asked Athira. “Because I get this feeling you’ll want them to stay.”

“A gesture of faith,” he said. “I understand. Bolt, Jolt, you are dismissed.”

Talon cracked up. Bolt... Jolt... is he serious?

The muscle lumps nodded and left Chief’s sides, moving off to somewhere behind her. Athira didn’t dare glance behind her again with the way the room’s attention was focused on her. Chief had managed to manipulate the situation too well, so she had no choice but to follow him back to his booth as he led her towards it with an invisible thread.

He bowed as he unlatched the blood red rope from its golden keeper. Athira walked through, waiting until Chief had resumed his seat to take hers. He held out a hand expectantly, to which she placed the stolen bag in it and resumed her straight-backed position, ensuring her cowl remained in place.

While Chief inspected the bag, Athira risked a glance. From the corner of her eye, she could see Shift talking to the muscle lumps, but their conversation was past her hearing.

He’ll be fine. Athira swallowed. Chief closed the bag, appearing satisfied. I hope.

“Now, my little Owl,” said Chief, folding his hands neatly on the table in front of him. He leant forward like he was going to try and put his nose in the mix of fingers. “I must admit, while I did desire the bag and the rune it contained, there was a deeper meaning to this little excursion I had you on.”

Athira trained her eyes on him. “No extra words. Talk straight with me, or I’ll take the information I was promised and leave.”

Chief nodded. “Fair. As another gesture of faith, I will tell you -- the girl you seek, Tracker, she is under the care of another. If you wish to bypass them, Tracker is currently boarding here in the Underground, on the upper section of the Mindflayer’s court room with the rest of Reader’s little... minions.”

“I’ll consider the favour repaid when I find her,” said Athira. “Why did you have me steal the bag, if not for the rune in it?”

“Because,” said Chief mysteriously. He leant into the plush back of the chair, turning his wrists to palm the table. “One of the Elites on that patrol wasn’t an Elite -- they were a Warden.” He held up the bag. “And this is... was their bag.”

Athira kept neutral. I have a bad feeling about this.

“I’m assuming you know about the Wardens,” said Chief. “Most here in the Underground do, even if they consider them a myth. Stronger than the Elites, they’re the top of the pyramid. Untouchable, unbeatable, and yet, here we are with one of their precious little rune bags, thanks to you.”

“I stole it,” said Athira. “Doesn’t mean I beat them.”

“I have contacts. One kept an eye on the patrol, and they saw the whole thing,” said Chief. “I wouldn’t have believed them, but then they showed me this.”

Chief produced a tablet, and after a moment of flicking through various screens and colour-lock passwords, a video came to life in the air in front of Athira.

The recording wasn’t of any substantial quality, in fact the action wasn’t even centred, located instead in the top left corner of the device, but it didn’t matter. The seven figures -- six Elites and their supposed Warden -- exited the Elite HQ and headed for a vehicle, only they never made it.

A flash of mottled grey and brown descended upon them. Black colour engulfed the group, and thirty seconds of shaky camera footage later, only the cloaked figure remained standing. The rest lay scattered across the ground as their attacker walked calmly over to the Warden, took something, and shot off out of sight into the night sky.

The recording disappeared.

Yep, thought Athira. Not good.

“I think we both know it was you,” said Chief. “The cloak is a dead giveaway.”

“And? Was one of them another of your muscle lumps? Did you have to pay him compensation, what?”

When the sarcasm didn’t have any effect on Chiefs rapid head shaking, Athira knew it was serious.

“The Elites aren’t a huge problem for any respectable villain. Most of us can’t beat them, sure, but we can run from them. Escape. But the Wardens?” His adam’s apple bobbed up and down inside the flesh of his throat. “No way. They see you, and you’re theirs. A class entirely of their own. But... not for you.”

Here we go.

That electric blue was back in his gaze. “I want you to work for me,” said Chief. “With me, even, as I don’t think I have the merit to ever think myself as to control you. With you, we have a chance. We can challenge the Elites, pose a threat, perhaps even overthrow them!”

“Why, pray tell, would I have the slightest interest in that?” asked Athira. “You have nothing I need any longer. I come here when I need information, and I got it. I don’t need a revolution or I’d do it myself.”

“We can offer you a home, a family!” Chief was getting excited, reaching for her hands across the table. “You would have a place, protection, be able to sleep without fearing for your life!”

Zoe and Raph flashed across her mind as Athira stood up from the table. “I don’t need a family, and you don’t need me. I work alone, Chief, and I suggest you remember that.”

He looked confused. “But you have an apprentice. What changed?”

Athira narrowed her eyes at him. She’d forgotten about Shift’s role play. “He happens to have half a brain in his head and knows when to stop asking questions,” she said meaningfully.

She opened the rope with her colour. Speaking of Shift, I can’t see him here anymore.

“Fine,” said Chief. “I don’t wish to anger the Owl after she returned such excellent results for me. But I will leave her with some parting advice, if she will have it.”

Athira gave him a withering stare. It didn’t deter him.

“Yesterday, there were people here asking about you,” said Chief in a low voice. “Where they could find the Owl, where she’d been, who she’d talked to, when she’d be here next. Naturally, once they started getting nosy no one told them anything, but we later found that they didn’t remember anything of it when we questioned them.”

“That’d be my excuse too if I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong.”

Chief shook his head. “Tracker found their colour trails, led outside the building. Turns out, they were being controlled by some purple colours from outside of the Underground. Only people I know powerful enough to pull that off would be--“

“A Warden,” finished Athira. She chewed her lip, trying to remember if she’d done anything in particular that might annoy them.

You did kinda take one of them out, supplied Talon.

Other than that, Tal.

Just that might have been enough. Doesn’t sound like they’re used to getting their asses handed to them.

She pulled herself back to reality, inclining her head. “Thanks for the heads up, Chief. The silence is appreciated.”

He smiled at her. An awkward, charming smile that she’d rather never see again. “No problem. Can’t have the Owl on our bad side now, can we?”

“Good answer,” she said, still looking around for Shift as her colour closed the rope behind her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it appears my apprentice has made off at a turtle’s pace and managed to elude me.”

As she headed towards the door leading out of the room, Chief’s voice followed her out.

“Remember what I said, Owl! The offer will always stand!”

Athira barely heard it. All that swirled around her head was a single thought, fat and growing with worry every passing second.

Shift, where the hell are you?

*+*+*+*

Shift really didn’t want to follow their contact’s bodyguards out, but they’d given him no choice once they got close and he saw the electricity running over their skin.

They’d herded him back to the main room, where the bodies numbering the flashing dance floor had doubled and the music was still the same head pounding volume that made his heart beat to its rhythm.

The bodyguards sat him at the bar, surrounded by the type he’d usually be handing over to the Elites, and all they could do was talk about the Owl in the hopes of getting something or another out of Shift.

“She’s just damn fine, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Dude, you’ve never even seen her face.”

 “I’ve seen enough of it to know that I want what it’s attached to, if you know what I mean.”

Shift tried to hide how much that statement annoyed him, but couldn’t stop his foot from tapping along the ground, or his eyes from locking on the ridiculous sets of muscles some of these guys had. They wouldn’t look out of place in front of mirrors at a 24/7 gym.

I mean, I know I have muscles, he thought as another balloon shaped bicep was shoved in his face. But at what point does bowling balls for pectorals become excessive? The hell are they so obsessed with Athira for?

“C’mon, how’d you do it?” said some guy off to Shift’s left. “We’ve all had our eye on her ever since she appeared in Sirah and got nothing more than a glance from her. So what makes you special?”

“My charming sense of humour,” said Shift, taking another sip of the amber beverage he’d tentatively accepted. “Can’t see why that’d be a problem for you guys, really.”

He just had to keep it up for a little while longer until Athira was finished with the guy they’d followed in here. It hadn’t got to the point where he had to break out the ‘I’ll tattle to the Owl on you’ card yet, but Shift sensed the moment was drawing near. The tension was almost tangible.

“Think you’re funny, eh?” said a new voice.

Shift glanced at them and instantly realised the situation had just turned south.

The newcomer was the same man as the one who’d stopped them initially after coming out of the room they’d wall-walked into. Somehow, he seemed bigger than before, and there was a scar running across the left side of his face that Shift hadn’t noticed before.

“Not particularly,” said Shift cautiously. He turned back to his drink, hoping that’d be the end of it but he had no such luck.

“What’s a thing like you got that we don’t?” asked the man. “Look at you, rather pathetic, ain’t it?”

“Black colour, for one thing,” said Shift, ignoring the insult and letting a few flecks fly off his fingers as he wiggled them.

Athira’s borrowed colour was nearly empty from the previous displays the others had him perform a few minutes earlier, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could manage before he’d have to hope the excuse of being bored with it was enough. 

The man sneered. “Bah, is that it? Colour? Black colour is all she was after this entire time?

“Crush, back off,” said the earlier guy. “He’s with her, you really want to push that?”

Shift couldn’t help it. He spat his mouthful of drink back out and choked on the rest as laughter took him hostage.

‘Crush’ narrowed his eyes. “Somethin’ funny?”

“Just... just your name is Crush?” Shift wiped his cheek. “Like, a hundred percent seriously, it’s Crush?”

Crush moved closer. “Problem with that?”

 “Nope, no problem,” said Shift quickly. “None at all.”

It wasn’t enough to repair the man’s honour. “Think you can just come in here, mock us?” said Crush. “The Owl might have picked you, but she’s not infallible. Everyone makes mistakes, and I think you’re one of hers.”

“Y’no, he has a point,” said another. “Why are we respecting this guy because he’s with her? Since when is that the way we do things around here?”

Murmurs of agreement rose up through the group, and Shift realised it was time to pull out the Owl card.

“Well, you don’t have to I guess,” said Shift casually. “But I don’t think the Owl would like it much if you decided to gang up on me, especially while we’re just having a drink and getting to know each other.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Someone who looked like they might have defended his right to unearned respect and safety ditched team Shift for team Crush.

“I don’t see the Owl around now, do you?”

“I think pretty boy here needs to learn how things are done around here.”

“I think you might be right.”

Shift put down his drink. Uh oh.

Crush smirked at him. “Around here, there’s only one way things like this are decided.” He turned around, brought his hands to his mouth and bellowed, “TO THE ARENA!”

Shift was half dragged, half carried towards the dance floor by the stampede of half drunk villains.

Only now, it wasn’t a dance floor. At the word ‘arena’, the dancers cleared off the multicoloured light up floor and ran for the edges as a deep rumbling noise started under their feet and the floor began to rise, still flashing green and yellow lights across the ceiling.

Thin, interwoven strands of metal became visible, previously concealed under the floor. On the side closest to and opposite Shift, doors granted access to the small dome that Shift estimated to be about seven metres in diameter. As the structure stopped rising, the sound of gears clicking into place somewhere underneath the floor, Shift knew exactly what he was in for.

It’s a cage fight.

Crush had made his way over to the opposite door, leaving Shift to be corralled to the one closest to him. The enormous man’s eyes were locked on to Shift, who was wondering exactly how he managed to get himself into these situations when someone took the DJ booth.

“The arena is in progress! The challenge has been issued, and the two participants shall fight until one is unable to continue, at which point the victor will decide mercy!”

The crowd went nuts at that. Several cries for blood and gore went up through the crowd, while others were already making bets with each other. Shift caught money changing hands in more than one scenario, and he wasn’t sure how much was bet on him.

“This can’t be legal,” muttered Shift, before realising what he’d said. “Legal? This entire damn place is based on the antonym.”

Someone opened the door of the cage arena and shoved him in. On the other side, Crush stepped through.

“In the far corner, Crush! Our resident champion, this man of muscles has only one defeat on the record! You could call this a grudge match, ladies and gents, because his opponent is none other than the Owl’s apprentice!”

Shift was running through any ideas he could come up with. At this point, he was fairly certain he didn’t have enough of Athira’s colour left for it to be useful, and he had no idea what colour Crush was going to be without shifting it, which he couldn’t do anyway.

Anyway, they think I’m a black colour. Shifting theirs would give me away for sure.

“Please step away from the cage if you do not wish to get coloured in the face! As always, the walls will protect anyone outside the cage, unless our little apprentice here can pull the same stunt as his Master and just pull it apart!”

Crush gave Shift a toothy grin and cracked his knuckles. “You’re dead, buddy. Hope that little outfit of yours comes in men’s, because the Owl’s about to have a real apprentice.”

Shift gave up on tact. “Didn’t you learn anything when the Owl beat you up the first time? Size means nothing, buddy.”

“Wonder if you’ll think the same thing when I’ve reduced you to half your current stature,” said Crush.

“Count with me, audience!” said the announcer. “Three, two, one, fight!”

 Crush charged.

His right fist pulled back as a pool of yellow colour coalesced around his fingers and swung at Shift’s head. Shift dove to the side, rolling to recover but overestimated the distance of the fence and crashed into it. Fingers shoved through the metal wiring, poking into his back and side as he pushed off the fence to once more avoided Crush’s fist.

“Yellow colour, eh?” said Shift. “What, just putting extra energy into your attacks?” Duck. “Really?” Sidestep. “That’s it?”

“I don’t see you flaunting your colour around like you were at the bar,” grunted Crush. “’Sides, I’m just playing with you at the moment. The real fight hasn’t begun yet.”

“You say that like I need colour to beat you,” improvised Shift.

The announcer picked up on it. “Ohhh, snap! The insults are flying more than fists in there, folks! Looks like we got ourselves a bull talker!”

“Yea, but I got the skills to back it up!” said Shift.

The last one almost cost him. Shift barely leapt out of the way before Crush’s hand was where his skull had been only a millisecond before.

 “How long you going to keep running, apprentice?” asked Crush, advancing on him once more. The yellow colour flickered around his fingers, occasional flares of brilliance that didn’t come close to matching Zoe’s.

Time to fight back.

Shift dropped to a crouch, bringing his leg out and sweeping it under Crush’s feet. The mammoth lost his balance, staggering back as Shift pushed himself into a tuck and rolled around to Crush’s exposed side to deliver a few quick but painful blows to the ribs.

He allowed himself a brief touch of bare flesh to read Crush’s colour. The feel of it surged his system, and instantly he knew it better than even Crush probably did.

Shift smiled. It’s allllll in the extremities.

When Crush’s fist came around next time, Shift braced for impact. He met Crush’s forearm with his own, avoiding the fingers and general hand region. Crush hesitated at that, obviously expecting him to continue dodging.

“So what,” said Shift. “You’re a yellow colour who can divert a bit of extra punch into their fingers and toes, perhaps your nose, make them all nice and tough?”

Crush smirked. “Heh, you did your homework on the reigning champion, eh?”

Shift grinned at him. “Nah, I’ve just seen your type before. You’re all pretty terrible. Should probably just go join a Colour team, if we’re being honest. I hear that Hot Pink team is recruiting from the preschoolers, you’d fit right in!”

That got the desired reaction. Crush tried a head butt, but Shift was ready for it and the kick that followed, avoiding them both. As Crush, meeting none of the expected resistance, stumbled forward, Shift took the advantage and grabbed the man’s shoulder, driving his face straight into the ground.

“Ouch! That’s gotta hurt!” cried the announcer.

The adrenaline was coursing through Shift now, and he was eager for more. He completely forgot he was in the middle of a nest, fighting for the entertainment of a bunch of villains where the dance floor used to be in a cage. There was nothing but him and the brute charging at his face.

As Crush came for him next, Shift once again grabbed the man’s shoulder and shoved him forward. He placed his knee on Crush’s back and kept his weight over him, trying to force him down and end the fight.

It was a mistake. Crush’s hand snaked up and locked on Shift’s forearm, trying to throw him over his head. The yellow, energy-coated fingers were quickly crushing his arm, so Shift did the only thing he could -- reach up with his free hand and thrust his fingers at Crush’s eye sockets.

They never made contact. Crush pulled back instinctively, releasing his grip on Shift, and returning them to the starting position of circling each other until Crush decided to charge.

Can’t get caught again. The muscles in his arm not protected by the bracer-like armour ached, demanding a massage. Just gotta stay out of reach.

Shift continued to avoid the stream of attacks while only sometimes returning some of his own. The years of Colour training kept him away from the finger extremities, much to the annoyance of the crowd who demanded he ‘man up and fight like one’. 

Crush, whose breathing was now ragged, pushed off the fence. A stream of blood ran from his cracked lip, and Shift was hit with the realisation that he’d put it there.

“You won’t fight like a man?” said Crush. “Then you’ll take a punch like one.”

Shift was too tunnel visioned on Crush to process the significance of the creaking gate behind him until two sets of hands grabbed him and dragged his arms behind his back. Shift tried to twist free, but someone kicked him in the back of the knees which collapsed him instantly. Static shocks ran over his skin as the two bodyguards from earlier made themselves known and Crush slowly walked over, flexing his fingers.

“Coward,” spat Shift.

Someone knocked him over the back of the head for that, setting the world spinning around him and a faint ringing in his ears. Crush stopped in front of him, tracing the yellow outline across his fingers with a demented grin.

“What do we think, folks?” asked Crush, looking to the crowd and holding his fist in the air. “Does he get it?” The crowd roared in response, and Crush turned back to Shift.

The announcer didn’t help anything. “Looks like we have a consensus!”

Shift knew what was coming. He tried not to think about how much it was going to hurt. He knew the damage this brand of yellows were capable, had seen the result of a single punch from one villain like it on Zoe’s leg before. The energy infused punches could break bones if the colour behind them wanted it to. Shift didn’t like what that meant for his skull.

“Low, even for the Underground,” Shift tried again. Wriggling only made the electric shocks coming from his restrainers worse.

Crush just grinned. “Better hope that colour comes with insurance,” he said as he pulled back his fist.

Shift didn’t turn away as it came down on his face, knowing it wouldn’t lessen the damage and would possible just make it worse. He’d be a man about it, at least.

Only, it never reached his face.

Black colour engulfed Crush’s fist, freezing it mid air as a hush fell over the bloodthirsty crowd. Crush looked confused for a moment before his eyes travelled to somewhere behind Shift and turned to an expression of utter terror.

“Uh, uhh, uhhhh--“

It was the only sound Crush managed to produce before his own fist turned around with a sickening crack and flew at his own face.

The collision made Crush stagger, but he didn’t fall over. Light, quick footsteps made their way into the arena from behind Shift as their owner swept past him and continued on towards Crush.

Athira’s hand was at her throat as she advanced, quickly loosening and throwing her cloak to the edge of the arena to leave her form-fitting outfit uncovered. Instead of her cowl, a silver mask protected her face, but everything else was on display for the Underground to see.

She didn’t say anything as she balled her hand into a fist and drove it straight into Crush’s right cheek. The man seemed to recover his wits enough to manage some kind of defense, but it didn’t matter. Athira’s hand-to-hand combat skills made Crush seem like a fumbling three year old as blow after blow penetrated his guard and pummelled into various sections of his body.

The crowd went wild, practically clawing at the sides of the cage and screaming for blood.

Crush attempted a counter swing as Athira’s left hand came around to kiss his throat. His attack glanced off her prepared forearm as she spun around, retracted her left hand and struck his ribcage with her elbow. The audible smack as the two made contact caused a wave of cringing, but Athira wasn’t done. As Crush tried to clutch his newly injured ribs Athira, with all the momentum of her turning body behind it, delivered a swift uppercut to his jaw.

Crush’s head snapped back. The crowd held their breath as Athira watched him fall back on to the mat. Groans of pain were the only indication that he was alive, but it was enough.

Athira shook out her hands and addressed the crowd in a voice that was darker than her colour.

 “I don’t suppose,” she said. “That anyone cares to explain why my apprentice is being held down in an arena match?”

No one had an answer for her. She moved to stand in front of Shift.  

“Are you okay?” she asked. The three words could have cut diamond.

Shift nodded and tried to stand. “Yep, all good.” His foot somehow got out from underneath him, and he stumbled.

Athira’s expression hardened as she turned back to Crush. “Oh good. Looks like you just get to live in a whole lot of pain, Crush. Pity, I was looking forward to cleaning the Underground up a little bit.”

“Owl, you can’t get in the arena when there’s a match going on!”

Squinting, Shift turned around to see the man they’d followed in storming up to the cage. He stopped just outside the door, clutching the door and glaring at her. By now, most of the crowd was interested in some other fistfight that’d broken out in their midst, trying to get them into the arena while two others were trying to move Crush’s limp body out.

“Oh, I can’t, can’t I?” said Athira. “So what about your muscle lumps here, is that allowed? Is holding down a fighter a valid strategy now?”

“My guards are allowed to intervene whenever they deem necessary!”

“Then I suggest you get new guards,” said Athira quietly. With a careless flick of her hand, a lazy tendril of black colour snaked its way around the chests of the bodyguards, who flinched and tried to pull it off.  “Because these ones aren’t going to be alive much longer if they touch my apprentice again.”

The man’s face was livid. “Is this true?” he asked the guards. “Did you interfere with an arena match without reasonable cause?”

Athira released the tendrils and shot her hand out to the side, where her colour promptly picked up her cloak from where she’d thrown it and placed it back over her shoulders, Talon’s amulet winking in the strobe lights. She pulled up her cowl and left the bodyguards to explain their actions to their furious employer.

Shift caught up to her quickly, trying not to wince as pain shot up his leg with every step. “What’s the plan, boss?”

“We’re going to get you some purple colour,” said Athira. “And then we’re leaving before I blow this entire joint up for pissing me the hell off.”

*+*+*+*

A/N - Please vote/comment if you feel like it, subway cookie pile for throwing if you didn't like it is over there -->