Prologue
In the forty-second year after the second Fall of Man, the first of the great contests was held. Born of necessity to a world only a fragment of its former self, it was a desperate ploy to stop the continuing unnamed conflicts by the man who would become the first new king. Despite being born after the fall, Gerald Snowden recognized that progress was not being made, and as the chosen leader of seventeen families, he knew that change was necessary.
A man of great imagination, it is somewhat ironic that Gerald turned to the oldest of stories as his inspiration, that of David and his fight with the giant Goliath. The idea of single combat to decide the fate of nations was appealing, given that his charges were so few. And while Gerald had no immediate intentions toward conquest, his tribe found itself in regular struggles to fight off other groups with either ambition or desperation greater than that of his own.
So it was that Gerald walked onto the field alone with a knife in his left hand and a sling, of sorts, in his rear pocket.
Chapter 1
Until well into his eighteenth annum, this Adam was, by all accounts, a failure. Meant to be part of the future of his city, he was born prematurely. Within the larger population this happenstance is to be expected with some regularity, but Pip was the result of in-vitro fertilization and gestation, with all parameters tightly monitored and controlled. Consequently, his early extraction was unprecedented in the program’s seventy year history, which included hundreds of successful births.
It is natural that in such a program mistakes will be made, and Pip was not the first birth gone awry. In the on-going quest for dominance, boundaries were routinely pushed, sometimes with terrible results. Grotesque deformities, stunted growth, limited intelligence, and extreme emotional instability were all common in the early years.
As the knowledge base grew, so too did the success rate. In recent memory, embryo viability consistently exceeded 90% and the five-year survival rate hovered around 80%. With broods being extracted on an cyclic basis, it was common to have as many as fifteen in each class.
In addition to being born 30% smaller than statistical norm for the program, Pip also grew slower than typical Adams through his first years. For a typical boy, being the smallest might not have been fun, but it was rarely fatal in and of itself. In Pip’s case, early mortality was a significant possibility for two primary reasons.
The first was that he and his peers were designed to grow quickly. This prevented the city from wasting resources on lost causes, including those that were unstable, lacked the talent for the contest, or simply didn’t have the required killer instinct necessary to be successful. The typical subject reached physical maturity by the end of their twelfth year.
The second reason was that these boys were trained to be killers, for that is the nature of the Arena. To build and subsequently test skill, regular matches were necessary between the subjects. With his relatively small stature, there was simply no way for Pip to compete successfully against his peers.
As a consequence, Pip was twice delayed in his forward progress. Even so, he still stood a full head shorter than the others in his current peer group, although they were two years younger. Interestingly enough, Pip’s handler, for each subject had one, refused to give up on the young man despite the obvious disadvantages. This man, John Rogers, saw something in the boy and fiercely defended his charge’s continued position in the program when pushed.
Since his birth, at which John had been present, Pip had shown himself to be a tenacious fighter. Through all the sanctioned contests and impromptu scraps of his childhood, Pip never backed down from a fight, although he was smart enough to avoid conflict when possible. This combination of innate intelligence and tenacity was not as common as might be hoped within the talent pool, and John felt strongly that it would ultimately be of great worth to the program, although he couldn’t say how.
Furthermore, while he was clearly the runt of the littler, Pip still towered above John, whose head only reached the middle of Pip’s shoulder. Additionally, eighteen years of constant physical training had turned Pip into a truly intimidating specimen. Like the other Adams, Pip’s bones, muscles, lungs, and heart were all significantly enhanced compared to normal people. In fact, each of the their body systems had been tuned over time to optimize performance in the Arena. Pip and his peers were meant to be the pinnacle of fighting prowess, at least until the following batch.
Now, as Pip prepared for the fight to begin, he quickly considered his options. The opponent across from him was especially large, exceeding both mean height and weight for Adams by more than two standard deviations. This boy, for he had only completed sixteen years, was called Hammer because of his favorite strike. He had beaten Pip once before, leaving broken bones, a collapsed lung, and a bruised kidney. To his credit, Pip had broken Hammer’s orbital socket and three ribs in the last fight, using his additional two years of experience to its fullest advantage. The results of the fight had earned Pip some respect from his peers, but this fight was not likely to go so well, because Hammer and the rest of the other, younger Adams had been making great strides in their various techniques, even if they did tend to lack imagination.
The fact that Hammer held no specific resentment toward Pip did not even factor into his mind; when the belt rang there would be no quarter until the second bell declared a victor. Given the size and strength of the combatants, as well as their advancing abilities, fatalities were becoming more common. In the end, if three subjects survived to take their places as Adams in the pool upon graduation, the program managers would be satisfied.
The bell rang and Hammer advanced forward through the thick sand, moving in a traditional posture with his hands open and at chin level; Pip still had not yet formed a concrete plan, so he started to circle to his right, away from Hammer’s stronger right hand. Rather than circling with Pip, Hammer stepped laterally, cutting off the smaller man’s planned path, making it clear that he was not overly concerned with Pip’s ability to hurt him quickly.
Rather than wait for the inevitable, Pip took two quick steps and threw a left roundhouse kick at Hammer’s ribs, just as Hammer’s right foot began to cross behind his left. The kick connected, but not solidly, as Hammer shifted his weight backward just before impact. This allowed Hammer to absorb the strike and return his own, clipping Pip on the top of the head.
Momentarily stunned, time seemed to slow down as Pip staggered backward, spun, and dove away from his opponent, coming up on his feet again having executed an effective roll. Unfortunately, Pip did not have much time to recover as Hammer came forward quickly with a flurry of punches, both high and low. Pip’s head had not cleared and time was still moving slowly for him as he was forced to absorb the blows on his arms and shoulder. Pip would much rather have avoided the strikes, but Hammer’s skill prevented Pip from doing this without unduly exposing his head. Fortunately, the oddly slow progression of time made it possible for Pip to dramatically reduce the overall effect of punches with subtle shifts of his body.
Nevertheless, Hammer did not let up with his assault, and began to add in the hammer fist strike for which he had earned his moniker.
Jab-Jab-Cross-Hammer fist.
Jab-Jab-Cross-Hammer fist.
Jab-Jab-Cross-
Pip allowed the cross to deflect off his left shoulder and took a jab step to his right. In the same movement, he swung his right fist as hard as he could up and into Hammer’s ribs with the full power he could produce, catching the bigger boy on the side just in front of and below his armpit. There was a loud crack as Pip’s fist broke through the bone, driving it inward. The strike that had been descending toward Pip never landed, as Hammer dropped forward onto the ground.
Pip pivoted, ready to kick the downed man in the head, but there was no need: Hammer laid completely still.
The second bell sounded and the ever present medics rushed into the arena to attend to Hammer. Their attention was unnecessary.
Pip didn’t know how to feel about actually killing a person. Of course, this is what he had trained for, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat conflicted, at least on an intellectual level. Having grown up in the program, Pip soon let the outcome go as a necessary part of his life, satisfied that he wasn’t the one lying on the ground.
It was also odd for Pip to see Hammer sprawled on the ground without any obvious signs of having been in a life or death struggle. There was no obvious bruising or blood; just a large body laying motionless.
As the body was being loaded onto a fat wheeled gurney by two of the others from the same year, Pip saw his handler walking up. “Good for you, Pip. You okay?”
“Yeah, thanks, John. I wasn’t sure how that was going to go when we started, but I’m alright. My arms are pretty beat up, but they’ll be better in a day or two.”
“Nothing broken, then?”
Pip gave a little smirk, “Not that a know of — first time for everything, I guess.”
“Yep,” replied John proudly. “Speaking of, how does your first victory feel? And over the cock of the walk, too.”
“Well,” started Pip before pausing. “I’m not really sure. I’ve been having my ass handed to me for so long, it hasn’t really sunk in yet. Good, I guess.”
John smiled. “Just good? Not fantastic?”
“No, not really. I mean, I just killed somebody. No, that’s not quite right. I killed Hammer. I’ve known him for, like, an entire year.
“When I say it out loud, it feels even weirder. And I’m two years older than him anyway. Or, I was? Whatever. So, no, not really fantastic.”
John reached up to clap Pip on the shoulder. “It’s okay. It’ll get easier, especially now that you have that first win under your belt. You’ll see.”
“Sure, thanks. By the way, I know I hit him hard, but what happened? Was there some sort of undiagnosed defect? Maybe something with his heart?”
“Not sure, Pip. We’ll have to wait and see what Doc says, but I heard the bone crack. When it happened, I thought it was your hand, but apparently not.”
Pip held up his hand, examining it front and back. “Nope. To be honest, it doesn’t even hurt. I mean, you can see where the skin broke a little on these two knuckles, but that’s happened so many times I don’t even feel it any more. When you hear, will you let me know?”
“Sure thing, big guy. In fact, I’ll head that way now. Take care of yourself and I’ll come find you when I learn something.” With that, John turned and walked across the practice arena, following the gurney’s tracks through the sand.
In just a few hundred beats, John had reached the medical wing and was surprised to meet Doctor Shepard walking out of Surgery-One. “Hey, Doc. Done already?”
“Oh, hello, Mr. Rogers. Actually, yes: the post-mortem was quite easy because of the quickness of the fight, and given that your Adam only landed the one strike. The death is remarkable, really. The precision was uncanny given that the margin of error was only about a finger’s width. Any further from the impact site and the bone likely would have broken differently. What’s more, if the force hadn’t been what it was, the bone may have cracked, but it certainly wouldn’t have behaved as it did. As I said, remarkable.”
“Sorry, Doc,” said John with a slightly puzzled look. “I must have missed something. Can you back up a half step and tell me the cause of death?”
“Of course, of course,” exclaimed the doctor. “Please excuse me — I must have been a little distracted thinking about what I saw.
“The best way to explain is probably to show you. Let’s step back into Surgery-One.” Doctor Shepard led John into the operating room, ushering him to stand on the corpse’s left side. Hammer’s arm was raised and the skin was pulled back from the armpit about halfway down the side. No stranger to such grisly sites, John didn’t flinch as Doc began his explanation.
“Do you see how the fourth rib has been broken? Well, the strike broke the bone all the way back here, almost to the latissimus,” he said pointing to where Pip’s fist had struck. “The force was sufficient to bend the bone until it also broke here,” he said, pointing a hand’s width further forward. “With the second break, the bone became a sort of projectile, moving inward, causing damage as it went.
“The part that I was puzzling over is that the bone fragment managed to move far enough inward to reach the heart. Ultimately, it cut into the pulmonary artery and punctured the left atrium. With this kind of damage, it’s likely that this Adam was dead before he hit the ground.”
“I understand, Doc, but why is it a surprise? It seems fairly straightforward… or am I missing something?”
“Well, yes, the mechanics are straightforward. However, I’ve never seen this specific injury before in a fight, and I can think of two reasons why. The first is that the heart is really only a bit left of the body centerline, so there was a long way — relatively speaking, of course — for the bone fragment to travel.
“Second, and probably more importantly, that region of the chest is pretty congested. The force required was extreme since it needed to break the bone and punch through the attached muscle, as well as the lung. It would be more common to see this kind of cardiac damage from the front with a sternum fracture. As it occurred, it looks more like the result of being hit by a long handled hammer than a fist.”
“I’m with you, Doc,” replied John, “but you’ve seen the size of the Adams. It doesn’t really surprise me that they hit so hard. It’s what they’ve been trained to do. Hell, it’s what they were born to do, no?”
“No. I mean yes. Of course, you’re right. What I was specifically considering is that given the appropriate precision and power, one could expect this injury, and the net result, to happen with regularity.”
“Wait a minute, Doc. You just said that you’ve never seen this before, and you told me how hard it would be to replicate.”
“Not quite, Mr. Rogers. What I said was that I haven’t seen it before. I didn’t mean to imply that it was a one-off occurrence. Given the force applied, the outcome is as would be expected. As you said yourself, the mechanics are straightforward.
“No, the unique thing here is that it hasn’t happened before, at least that I’m aware of. I would suggest that your Adam, Mr. Rogers, was either very lucky with his strike, or figured this out ahead of the rest of us. What’s more, now that I think on it, our Adams’ hearts are significantly larger than non-IVFG typical. This means that the distance the bone fragment had to travel was relatively shorter. If this strike could be perfected, I think we could really be onto something.”
John was quiet for a few moments considering this revelation. “Well, Doc, to be honest, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if this was intentional. Pip’s gotta be the smartest almost-Adam I’ve come across in my twenty-plus years as a handler. He has a knack for being a step ahead of the others, but that doesn’t fully explain how he was able to pull this off. I looked at the fight in slow-motion before I went and talked with him, and I mean really looked. Hammer — that is, this big guy on the table — his form was as close to perfect as I’ve ever seen in someone not already in the Adam pool. The window that Pip slipped into was so small I wouldn’t have believed it was possible if I hadn’t seen him do it.
“No, I think something else is going on, and I’m going to have to talk with Pip to figure out what it is. Thanks for your time, Doc.”
“Of course. I’ll go write this up and send it on with some urgency. Would you like a copy of the initial report?”
“Absolutely. Thanks again, Doc.”
With a nod of his head, Doctor Shepard turned and walked with purpose down the corridor. John watched him for a few seconds, considering what he had heard, before heading to find Pip again.
A short while later, John was following up on his hunch in Pip’s room.
“So what you’re saying is that you saw what Hammer was going to do before he did it. Like some sort of precognition?” asked John, taking Pip’s explanation remarkably well. After all, he had seen the Adams do so many outrageous things that not much truly shocked him anymore.
“No, I must not have explained myself very well,” replied Pip as he laid on his bed with an arm behind his head. “It was more like things just slowed down after he clipped me. I didn’t know what he was going to do, but I could see what he was doing, and then react. It’s how I was able to absorb his punches. I mean, my shoulders are starting to hurt, and I’m sure there will be some pretty bad bruises, but probably not like there should be. I was, like, able to shift a little here or there to put myself in better positions. That’s really it. Honest.”
“Oh yeah?” replied John without sounding particularly convinced. “What about the strike you landed to his ribs? Were things slow there, too?”
“Ok, sure, but it didn’t really matter then. As soon as I figured out Hammer’s rhythm, I committed to the strike with everything I had in me. If it wouldn’t have landed, I doubt things would have turned out so well for me.”
John reflected on this for a few moments. “So how slow are we talking here? Half speed? Slower?”
“I don’t know,” groaned Pip. “How am I supposed to know how to answer that? It’s not like I have any reference for this kind of thing.”
“Yeah, okay.” After taking another moment to think, John said, “What if you did have a reference? Do you think you would remember?”
“Sure, probably. What are you thinking?”
“Well, I already looked at the fight footage. Let’s play with the speed and figure out which setting matches what you experienced.”
After seeing the fight at various speeds, Pip nodded and said, “The second one you did is the closest. For me, the fight seemed just a little faster than whatever that was.”
“Really?” asked John, surprised despite himself. “When you said time slowed down, I was imaging some sort of super slo-mo deal where everything takes a long time to happen. The speed you picked is only about a quarter slower than regular. And that was enough of an advantage?”
“I guess so. Remember, this is all new to me, too.”
“Sure, sure. Alright, well that’s part of the puzzle. What about the punch itself. Did you mean to hit him where you did?”
“Well, yeah, of course I did. Where else would I have been trying to him him?” asked Pip, more than a little confused at the question.
“Sorry, that was poorly phrased,” soothed John, before recounting his conversation with Doctor Shepard.
“So what I meant was, did you mean to drive his rib into his heart?”
Pip looked pensive for a moment before replying. “Well, when it comes down to it, I guess I sorta did. I connected cleanly with the point I was aiming for, so that was intentional. I was hoping to break the bone and maybe puncture the lung, but I didn’t really consider hitting the heart. Keep in mind that I wasn’t really following any sort of strategy. Hammer kept throwing that overhand strike which opened up his left side: I just took advantage of it.”
“Yeah, I understand. So you meant to do it, but it worked even better than you expected.”
“Sure,” said Pip with a small smile, “something like that.”
“Alright, good enough for now, then. You know that if this is something that can be duplicated, it’ll be a huge thing for us, right?”
“Sure, John, I guess. But most Adams aren’t going to lift up their arms to expose their ribs like that.”
John stood up, preparing to leave. Then he smiled and clapped the young man on the shoulder again, causing Pip to grimace. “Just details, Pip.”
Chapter 2
Rieckenburg was founded by a cooperative of poor farmers looking to further themselves through collective bargaining with larger towns and cities, well before the Second Fall. When the cataclysm came, it was far too small to be of any significant value, and thus it survived through a combination of chance and indifference, like most post-Fall settlements. In the time that followed, survivors organized themselves, grew the settlement into a town, and eventually into a city.
Many years later, a young woman, called Roxy by the few that knew her, huddled in a side alley deep within the Fourth Quarter. This district, universally recognized as the worst in Rieckenburg, was generally dirty, always dangerous, and never a place to be caught out alone at any time, but especially at night. As a longtime resident Roxy knew all of this, but her options had been limited: either go with the men who had accosted her, or flee and hope that she didn’t meet someone worse.
This situation, like most that Roxy had faced, was largely the result of her own poor choices. However, Roxy was especially good at rationalizing and deferring blame, and this time was no different. So as she huddled between two large trash containers, hidden from anyone that might happen down this particular alley, she ran through the list of all the people responsible for her current circumstances.
She started with the most obvious: her boyfriend, J.T. To most people in the city, boyfriend would be too strong a word for their relationship; casual acquaintance might be more accurate given the singular focus of the arrangement. To Roxy, however, this was the life she had always known, so she raged silently, planning how she would curse and ridicule J.T. for not taking care of her. How dare he trade her? Didn’t she mean more to him that a bag of cack, or whatever he was into now?
Apparently not.
So J.T. wasn’t much of a find, but that just made it her friend Jeska’s fault. She’d hooked the two of them up. What was Jeska thinking? She knew what a trashboy J.T. was — couldn’t she have warned Roxy?
No: that wasn’t really fair. Jeska had been a good friend. She shared her food, even when she didn’t have enough herself.
This really all started before she was out on the street, when Jasmine threw her out. So what if she missed her share of the housing dues twice. She had paid the first one.
And she wouldn’t have missed those payments if that assclown Higgens hadn’t fired her. She was only a little late one time after he warned her. How could anyone change overnight? What was he thinking? She had really tried to be up in time, but that party the night before was sick.
What was she supposed to do? She could have left earlier, maybe, but that would have made her out to be a loser to the guy throwing the party. Tim? Ted? Whatever.
If he hadn’t had so much good stuff there, she would have left straightaway. What was he thinking, inviting desperate girls to that kind of party. Of course she had stayed. When would she get another chance like that? Certainly not any time soon, now.
Dammit. He was probably just trying to be nice: help out poor local kids. Whatever.
But if it wasn’t Tim-Ted’s fault, whose was it?
Sister Margaret? That nun never liked Roxy.
Sister Jan? She was no better. Stupid lady was always trying to make Roxy do things she didn’t want to do.
The Rev? Absolutely not. He’d never done anything to hurt her, but he gave Roxy the creeps. No, thank you.
Her Mom? Ha. What Mom?
By this time, Roxy was balling, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to stay silent. If she got out of this, she would change. She would have to, or she’d end up like Jeska: half-starved, cut up, and face down in a street with no name.
The crying eventually wore Roxy out and she slid into an uneasy, twitchy sleep. By the time daylight arrived, Roxy was truly exhausted, the sleep having tired her out more than if she had just stayed awake. Even so, Roxy forced herself to get up and moving as soon as the sun was high enough to turn the shadows in the alley from black to a dull gray.
With no alternative she could find, Roxy made her way directly toward the First Quarter, stopping only briefly at a handout kitchen on the way for a piece of salted jerky and a half cup of water.
Having started early, Roxy reached 9th Street, the unofficial boundary of the First Quarter, before the seventh bell. Here she slowed her progress, knowing that she would be safe in the most upscale of the four Rieckenburg districts.
As Roxy walked the streets toward the center of the quarter, she took note of her new surroundings. Sure, the streets were old and made of pavers, but they were clean. The buildings were old, too, but the outsides looked well cared for. She even passed a park that was more grass than mud.
Roxy couldn’t help but feel resentment, longing to be part of a place where everyone had enough to eat and drink, and didn’t need to be constantly afraid. She wrestled with her feelings as she walked, knowing they wouldn’t be helpful in what was to come. She still hadn’t completely handled them as she arrived in front of her destination, but she was pretty sure she could fake it, until she looked up at the building. Her resentment and jealousy vanished, replaced immediately with a sense of awe.
The structure was huge, stretching the entire width of the block. It was uniformly built from a tan stone, with a rounded part in the middle and two large wings on either side that seemed to wrap around her as she walked slowly toward the entrance in the center. Roxy became even more intimidated as she approached, seeing that there were massive double doors in the curving forward facing wall, which was itself up a flight of enormous stairs.
Roxy paused at the foot of the stairs, unsure of what her next step should be. Walk up and knock? Look for someone that worked here?
Eventually, without her even noticing, a man joined her, having himself walked along the entire length of one wing. He stood just behind and to her right, looking up the steps with her. When she didn’t acknowledge him, the man slowly scuffed his shoe, letting her know that he was there.
Roxy snapped out of her daze and turned to look. When she did, she saw a very, very large man dressed in black, and despite her immediate inclination to take several steps backward, she stood her ground.
“Um, hello. Do you work here?” she asked.
The man appraised the young woman. Dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, she was not wearing shoes. Her hair was cut to a medium length, just past her chin, but not well. Her head reached up to the lower part of his chest, and she was slim, probably from malnutrition like many of the city’s poorer inhabitants.
He was intrigued: one did not tend to find such people close to the Complex. “Yes, I do actually. And what can I do for you?”
It was at this point that Roxy’s resolve, bravado, and composure broke down. Instead of answering, large tears formed and subsequently rolled down her cheeks. Roxy, ever the opportunist, tried to make this work to her advantage by playing up to the man’s sympathy, but found that she truly couldn’t form coherent words.
For his part, John stood and watched the young woman break down. She wasn’t hysterical, but was clearly at the end of her emotional strength. After some time, perhaps two hundred beats, she came to the end of her tears and was able to pull herself back from whatever precipice she had been looking beyond.
Still silent, John cocked his head to the side and raised and eyebrow when she finally looked back into his face.
Roxy couldn’t help but let go a short, sharp laugh at his expression, even as she wiped the tears away with the ratty collar of her shirt. “Sorry about that,” she began before taking a deep breath. “It’s been a rough… well, it’s been rough. It just sorta caught up with me, is all.”
John gave her an indulgent half smile, giving her a little more time to recover her full composure.
One more deep breath and Roxy started again, “I’m looking for some sort of job. I don’t really have any skills, but I’m desperate, so I’ll do anything that lets me eat.”
“Not much of sales pitch,” John replied in a mildly amused tone.
“No, I guess not, but I haven’t always been so good about being honest, and I want to — no, I need to make a fresh start.”
“Sales pitch isn’t really improving,” said John, who was now clearly amused, even to a shaken Roxy. “Maybe you should start with the positives — that might go over better.”
Roxy smiled back and sniffled. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.
“Well. I guess I’m pretty good with people.”
“Yep,” said John, looking at the tear tracks on her dirty cheeks. “I picked that up right away.”
“And I think quick. Resourceful.”
“Don’t forget good under pressure,” replied John.
“Yeah, that, too.
“Dammit,” said Roxy mostly to herself. “Look, I know you’re probably trying to cheer me up, but please don’t make fun of me. I don’t even know how to do this. I’m not sure what I’m doing here, except that I couldn’t think of a single other thing to do. If I’m back in the Fourth Quarter for another night I’m going to end up face down come morning. I really don’t have any options.
“Can you help me? Like, can you tell me who to talk to so that I can try to find a job? I don’t have anything to offer you, but it would really, really help me.”
John stood silently for a few moments, glad to see some spirit coming back to the young woman. “Alright, let’s start over. My name is John, and yours is?”
“Roxy. My name is Roxy, and I’m from the Fourth Quarter. I’ve been on my own for the last five years, so you know I’m tough, and I’m smart. And I’m resilient. I’ve never done drugs. Not any. I mean it, not a single time.
“And now I’m here to work. I’ll learn quick, and I’ll give you one hundred and ten percent. I’ll do the really bad jobs that nobody else wants. I don’t care. All I need is a chance.” Roxy looked the large man directly in his eyes. “Will you give me a chance?”
John smiled fully for the first time. “Much, much better. I think you should go with that pitch.”
Roxy’s face fell. “So you can’t help me?”
“Well,” started John before pausing, “let’s see what we can figure out. First things first, though, we need to get you cleaned up. Follow me.”
John turned and started striding up the steps, looking like he only had to stretch out his legs a little to walk normally. Roxy did follow, and soon found that she needed to jog to keep up, especially since it took two and a half of her steps on each of the stairs.
Half a bell later, Roxy was sitting on an oversized chair in some back hallway. John had left, promising that she would be taken care of soon, but it was possible that his definition of soon was as oversized as everything in the building. Roxy found her anxiety building.
As she continued to sit, Roxy realized she was as excited as she was nervous. Her new attitude was already working: she’d taken some responsibility for her life, and now something was happening. She just hoped that something was good, which started the anxiety building again.
A short while later, before Roxy had time to thoroughly lose herself to panic, a woman came down the hall. The woman was a little shorter than Roxy, and probably only a few years older. “Hi, I’m Maggie. Are you Rosie?” the woman asked.
“You mean Roxy?”
“Maybe. Mr. Rogers talked to Madame Bower, who told me to come collect a young woman named Rosie, and you’re the only one here.”
“Alright then,” said Roxy deciding, “Rosie it is. Consider me collected. Where are we off to?”
“I’m to take you to get cleaned up and outfitted, and then get some food. Once you’ve eaten we’ll head over to meet Madame Bower. She’s the one that runs our department.”
“And which department is that?”
“Oh,” said Maggie, obviously surprised. “Physical and Emotional Therapy. We’re the ones who take care of the Adams.” With this last statement Maggie smiled broadly.
“But I don’t have any training at all. How am I going to do therapy?”
“Don’t worry, Rosie, you’ll figure it out,” said Maggie, her smile widening further. “Come on. Madame Bower will be expecting us, so let’s get going.”
The women didn’t chat as they walked, given the hurried pace that Maggie set. Soon enough, they had arrived at their first stop. Roxy, now Rosie, looked at the large open room with the tiled floors and walls. “What is it?”
The surprised look on Maggie’s face told Rosie that she had said something wrong, so she tried backtracking. “I mean, I haven’t seen one quite like this. Maybe you can show me how it works? I don’t want to break something my first day here.”
Maggie took in Rosie’s ratty hair, dirt stained skin, and ragged clothes, for the first time really seeing the young woman. “Um, yeah. This one’s pretty complicated.
“Here, just do what I do.” With this she started taking off her uniform, folding her garments as they were removed, and placing them on a knee high shelf.
As Maggie undressed, Rosie took in her form with a mixture of astonishment and envy. Maggie was curvy like nobody Rosie had ever met. Her breasts were full, as were her hips; she even had a little padding around her belly. Maggie was, without question, the most feminine woman Rosie had ever seen.
“Come on, Rosie. You’re making me self-conscious staring at me like that,” said Maggie, reddening slightly. “You can’t take a shower with your clothes on.”
“Oh! Oh, yeah, of course,” replied Rosie, quickly stripping off her shirt and pants, trying to make it look like she’d done so dozens of times before. When she got to her undergarments she froze. Rosie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her hands to keep moving, but she couldn’t get them to pull the straps off her shoulders. She took another breath and tried again, but instead of making any progress, tears returned to her closed eyes and began rolling down her cheeks for the second time in the morning.
Maggie watched this internal struggle for only a moment before placing hand on Rosie’s back and a second on her shoulder. Rosie stiffened further, seeming to pull back into herself, so Maggie took a step back. “Rosie, Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Rosie shook her head in response, again failing to respond.
Unsure what to do, Maggie stepped forward and gently took the younger girl’s chin and tilted it up. “Rosie, look at me. Come on, Honey, look at me. I won’t hurt you. That’s right. Now what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I just… you just caught me off guard is all. I thought I’d have more time before, you know, I’d have to get naked…”
“Oh, Rosie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that. I was just trying to show you how to take a shower without embarrassing you. I guess I did the opposite, huh?”
Rosie sniffled. “It was that obvious I had no idea what to do?” she asked, wiping tears with her still drying shirt.
“Yeah, pretty much. Look, nothing weird is going to happen. We take off our clothes so that they don’t get wet, and then we stand under those nozzles over there and use the water that comes out to get clean. That’s it.”
Rosie’s fear lessened as she heard the explanation. “You mean you have so much water that you can use it just for cleaning? Do you drink it afterward?”
Maggie made a face. “No, of course not. But the water does recycle, so try not to get it in your mouth — it can make you pretty sick. And keep it out of your eyes, too.”
“Oh. Okay, I guess that sorta makes sense. I’ve just… I didn’t know there was that much clean water in the city. We always just stood out in the rain, or sometimes used a rag dipped in a rain barrel.” Rosie smiled, wiping at her tears. “This does sound much better, though.”
Maggie smiled back. “It definitely is.” With that, Maggie stepped into the room, turning on two of the shower heads. She was joined shortly thereafter by Rosie, who had overcome her bout with modesty.
After what would generally be regarded as an inordinately long time, the ladies finished their showers and headed to their next stop, with Maggie back in her clothes and Rosie in a towel; her clothes had been discarded in the trash bin at the room’s exit.
Walking into the storeroom, Maggie quickly picked out several sizes of the various garments for Rosie to try on. Not long afterward the two were dressed in matching outfits consisting of dark blue shirts and tan skirts. Each of the shirts had light blue stitching around the sleeves and a v-neck collar. The ankle length skirts were cut up both sides to allow for easy movement while still managing to hide the ladies’ legs most of the time. Underneath Rosie was now wearing a soft white camisole and modestly cut panties. Despite her new attire’s clear focus on function over form, Rosie had never felt more luxuriously dressed, and told Maggie as much.
Maggie just laughed and hurried them on to the kitchen.
Like the shower, their visit to the kitchen took substantially longer than Maggie had expected. In addition to being the least picky eater Maggie had ever met, Rosie managed to eat a significant percentage of her body weight. As they left, with Rosie still chewing, Maggie was trying to determine if the smaller girl had somehow managed to hide some of the food in her pockets for later. Deciding to leave that mystery unsolved, Maggie led the way to the common room that also functioned as Madame Bower’s office.
The room, regularly referred to as the Lounge by the women that it served, was large and square with a desk against the far wall, comfortable looking couches in the center, and high tables spaced along the side walls. Scattered throughout the room were more than a dozen women in the same uniforms, most of whom looked to be roughly the same age as Maggie. The clear exception was an older woman sitting on the nearest couch between two women. All three were smiling as they talked.
It was to the front of this couch that Maggie led Rosie. When the older woman looked up, Maggie curtsied and introduced her companion. “Madame Bower, this is Rosie, the young woman you sent me to fetch. As you instructed, she’s all cleaned up and has eaten.”
The older woman disengaged herself from her companions and stood, appraising the newly arrived pair. “And what took so long, Miss Maggie?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, but without any ire. “I expected you both some time ago.”
“Well…” started Maggie, but Rosie stepped forward before she could proceed.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, it was my fault. I took longer in the shower than I should have. I was just trying to get all of the dirt off me, and, well, there was a lot of it.”
Madame Bower looked the young woman over with the benefit of many years worth of experience. The girl was of medium build, but seemed even smaller due to being underweight, perhaps dangerously so. Her eyes were either blue or gray — it was difficult to distinguish in the room’s soft light — and seemed almost sunken due to her malnutrition, but they would be pretty once she filled out. However, even in her current state, the girl had some natural curves, and it was a good sign that she took responsibility for being late, even though it didn’t matter in the slightest.
The older woman, whose given name was Ruth, motioned for Maggie to step away with her for a moment. While the two women held a silent conversation amongst themselves, Rosie was left to stand awkwardly in front of the seated women, occasionally making eye contact, but mostly staring at her feet.
After the brief interlude, Maggie waved to Rosie and went off while Ruth made her way back. “Ladies,” she said, addressing the seated women, “please excuse us.”
Ruth hooked her arm through Rosie’s and led her to the door. “Rosie, walk with me for a while. I’m going to show you where you will be sleeping.” A short while later they were back at the storeroom. “From here, your room is just around the corner. Since you seemed to get along with Maggie, I’m going to put you with her and her roommate. They will show you around and help you learn your role.
“But that is all for tomorrow. Today, I just want you to rest. Sleep as much as you can, eat when you are hungry, and I will see you back in the Lounge tomorrow morning by the eighth bell. You have already seen the shower, the kitchen, and the Lounge — do you think you can navigate well enough on your own?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m pretty good with directions.”
“Very good. And you will call me Ruth when we’re alone. Otherwise, I am Madame Bower. We need to keep up appearances after all,” she finished with a smile. “See you tomorrow, Honey.”
Truly shocked at the turn her life had taken, Rosie walked slowly to her new room. There were two sets of stacked beds complete with sheets, blankets, and pillows, two simple metal chairs, and four shelves. The two lower beds and the two lowest shelves had assorted personal items, so she climbed on the nearest top bunk, closed her eyes, and was asleep in moments.
Chapter 3
Like more than half the room’s occupants, John stood against the wall watching the heated discussion’s as-yet-undetermined end draw closer. Argument had already proceeded for more than a half bell, which was very rare in this forum. Around the room’s central table sat the five members of the Complex Council. Dr. Shepard sat in the final chair, also waiting for the decision, his report having been the impetus for the discourse. On one side of the debate was Richard Jacobs, head of Research & Development, who was vigorously defending the current Adam design. Director Richards was an obsessively fit man more than halfway through his expected lifespan. Aggressively confident in his approach to all of life’s challenges, he was in the process of arguing opinions as facts — his favorite tactic toward winning arguments.
His current opponent was Director Ronald Baker, Head of Special Projects. Like Richards, Director Baker was no pushover, having risen to his Council seat in large part due to a series of inspired successes. Baker was a younger man, only now approaching midlife. He was highly energetic and tended to appear scatterbrained to those that didn’t know him, often changing topics rapidly and arguing both sides of a given point. In this case, however, he was uncommonly focused.
“Director Richards, I freely concede your point that there is no good way to rigorously test the hypothesis proposed by Dr. Shepard. However, one does not simply discount ideas because they are difficult to demonstrate, especially when the potential benefits are so large.”
“As a general statement, I fully agree, Director Baker,” replied the older man. “The stakes here, as you know, are too high to move forward without confirmation. Furthermore, we cannot endanger multiple Adams from the pool without strong confidence that this approach is sound. Nor are the immature Adams a good test: this event may have been age related. Consequently, I do not see a clear path forward.”
As Baker was about to respond, the Executive Director, seated at the head of the table, raised her hand and the younger man immediately abandoned whatever he was about to say. “Director Richards,” she said looking down the table at him, “proceed with the bone density tests, both the real time scans as well as point samples. These data will be useful, regardless of the outcome.
“Choose three Adams from the pool, as well as one in each of the final three years. I want the point samples from throughout the body; you will determine the specifics. Work with Director Humbolt to select the least promising subjects in case they don’t survive the testing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Director Baker,” she said, now looking down the other side of the table.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Choose one of the less promising Adams from the pool; Director Humbolt can help here as well. I want you to show him the results of Dr. Shepard’s autopsy and train him to hit the target area with regularity. Work with Dr. Shepard to assess performance; if Dr. Shepard becomes satisfied that his hypothesis may still be valid, set up a one-off fight with another of the less promising Adams. Do not tell the second about this project; we need to know if the idea will hold up in real world conditions.
“Dr. Shepard, this is your top priority, excepting only immediate medical responses.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We will discuss results at the Council meeting after next.” Here the Executive Director looked to the other members of the Adams Council, silently checking for dissent. Seeing none, she dismissed the meeting.
As the Council members were departing, John left his spot on the wall and sidled up to Geoffrey Humbolt, Director of Personnel, as he was leaving the room. “Hey, Geo, do you mind if I walk with you for a moment?”
The director kept moving as he responded, “Not at all, John, but you don’t really need to make an argument. Pip doesn’t make sense for this: he’s as atypical as we’ve ever had, so who knows what we would find if we start dissecting him. No, we’ll have to find different Adams.”
“I was hoping you would say that. I agree that the results would be disputed, regardless of what they showed.”
“Good. Anything else?” asked the man perfunctorily.
“Actually, yes. It won’t take long, but it’s best if we talk privately.”
Humbolt stopped and looked up at John, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Alright, let’s step into my office, but we need to keep it short — I’m already late to my next appointment.”
Facing each other across the director’s desk in a small room without windows, buried in one of the Complex’s lower floors, John started. “Geo, I don’t have much confidence that Director Baker’s efforts are going to be successful.”
“Neither do I, John. After all this time, we’re not likely to find a magic bullet.”
“Yes, but that’s not exactly what I meant. Have you reviewed the footage of Pip’s fight in detail?”
“I’ve seen it several times, especially the fatal strike. So?”
“Did you notice anything strange about the way that the fight unfolded? Specifically about Pip?”
The director regarded the handler critically. “Listen, John, I don’t know what you’re driving at. Spell it out for me so I don’t have to guess.”
“Sorry, Geo, I was hoping that you saw what I saw.
“Look at the fight again. The way that Pip moved — the way that he avoided punches at the last moment and then the accuracy of his own strike — it’s something different than we’ve seen. When I said that I don’t think the program will work, it’s because I don’t think any of the other Adams can duplicate what Pip did, although I’m not sure myself what that actually was. Personally, I do think Dr. Shepard’s hypothesis is valid.”
The director raised his eyebrows again, this time genuinely surprised. “And what would you have me do?”
“If the fight happens, and if the demonstration is unsuccessful, I would like for you to argue for keeping the hypothesis alive.”
“What would be the point? What is it I should argue for?”
“I want you to give Pip a fight against a pool Adam, and not one of the bottom feeders.”
Humbolt was actually incredulous at this point. “As his handler, aren’t you supposed to to try to keep Pip alive?”
“Yes, sir,” John replied. “I know it doesn’t make sense logically, but I have a strong feeling that he’ll be able to do it again if the Adam doesn’t know it’s coming. Pip’s different, we all know that. I suspect that whatever it is that went wrong with him, may have actually gone right, and we’re about to learn what that means.”
The director leaned back in his chair, considering the suggestion, as well the potential implications if John was right. “Let’s see how the first fight goes, and we can talk again then.”
“Thanks, Geo,” said John, standing to leave. “Don’t forget to take another look at Pip’s fight — you might consider watching it at half speed.” His request made, John excused himself with a wave and walked back toward his own office.
Twelve days later, John Rogers and Geoff Humbolt sat side by side on folding chairs in the practice yard, watching the final preparation for the planned fight.
“So what did you think?” asked John.
“You were right that it was much easier to see with the speed slowed down, but I don’t know if it’s anything really that special. I’ve seen Adams before that could slip almost any punch. It’s a skill for sure, but it’s not magic.”
“It’s possible I am just seeing what I want to see; maybe it’s because I like Pip.”
“Oh, yeah?” asked the director. “I thought handlers didn’t get attached.”
“Well, that’s normally true, but it’s hard not to like Pip. He’s automatically the underdog in everything he does, so he’s easy to root for.”
“Hmmm. Almost gives you hope that you could have been in the Adam program?”
“Ha!” barked John. “I wouldn’t last past the opening exchange. I’d get beaten with the bloody end of my own arm. Have you seen the size of them?” asked John facetiously.
“Have you looked in the mirror, big man? I’d bet you could do the same to me if you had the inclination, and I’m not exactly small.”
John smiled. “Well, that’s what happens when your old man was an Adam. You know what the best part is?”
Humbolt look at John suspiciously. “Big dick?”
John laughed again. ” I was going to say oversized brain, but that’s not bad, either.”
“Uh huh,” came the response. “Why don’t you keep that equally oversized mouth closed — it looks like they’re ready to start,” said the director without rancor.
At opposite sides of the arena the two fighters were receiving final instructions from their respective handlers. The two of them, despite being relatively low in the Adam pool, were true specimens. Like typical Adams, they were were excessively tall, obscenely muscled, and frighteningly wide. Furthermore, these two had broad facial features and a medium skin tone, indicating they came from the same genetic stock. In the streets of Rieckenburg they would have been called twins, but that term didn’t have any meaning within the Adam program.
“Which one is the test case?” asked John.
“The one on the far side, with the scar below his right ear. That’s Mitch. The other is Topper. And before you ask, no, I don’t know where the name came from.”
“And they’re identical?”
“As close as we could make them. Doesn’t bode particularly well for that batch that they’re both at the bottom of the pool, but at least they made it this far.”
“Do they fight the same?”
“Not really. Somewhere along the line they diverged, developed their own personalities, preferences, whatever. That said, I don’t think they’ve formally fought each other before. Should be interesting to see what happens.”
“Always,” agreed John.
Standing in the sand, the two fighters were ready to begin, muscles tensed and eyes focused on each other. The bell rang and they rushed together, eager to get directly into the fight. The initial exchange was as brutal as it was fast. Mitch, the fighter with the special instructions, was getting more than he was giving, consistently half a heartbeat slower as he tried to look for a specific opening in Topper’s defense.
The Adams broke apart for a dozen beats before reengaging one another. This time Mitch feinted to the left and managed to sneak a right cross into Topper’s ribs, but the latter shrugged it off as he had other strikes. In return, he split open Mitch’s left cheek with a counter right. The violence of the blow staggered the Adam and sent him back two steps. This was followed up with several body punches, causing Mitch to drop his hands; Topper promptly introduced his forehead to his opponent’s nose. Mitch’s knees buckled and he folded awkwardly, head smacking the sand as he hit. The second ring was late in coming, allowing Topper to land several kicks to the ribs and an additional heel stomp to the solar plexus. When it did sound, Mitch was convulsing on the ground, vomiting blood even as more streamed out of the wound on the side of his face.
Taking in the scene, Director Humbolt nodded. “As I expected. Looks like we don’t have a magic bullet after all.”
“Come on, Geo, I told you this would happen. I would say the results are inconclusive, so please don’t forget what I asked,” interjected John quickly.
“I know, I know. I’m not going to commit to anything now — I need to see how the Council meeting plays out. On the positive side, at least you only need to wait a couple days for an answer.”
“Yeah, there is that. Anyway, thanks for at least considering it.”
“Sure. Too bad the fight was so one sided, huh?.”
“No doubt. I expected more from a pool Adam. Maybe he was too distracted, or focused, or whatever. Or maybe it’s because his name was Mitch. What the hell kind of name is that for an Adam anyway?”
Humbolt laughed. “No idea, but I had the same reaction when I first heard it. Doesn’t much matter any more — I doubt Doc can fix that.”
“No, probably not. Do you think he’s going to tell us that a heel stomp to the sternum is also a magic bullet?”
“Not likely — that’s only the second or third time I’ve seen something like that work. No, I think that was just sloppy work from Twitch.”
“Twitch? You mean Mitch?”
“Yeah. You saw him on the ground: Twitch seems more appropriate now.”
“Nice,” nodded John appreciatively. “And on that morbid note, I’m going to head back to my office. See ya later, Geo.”
“Alright, John. Be good.”
On his way, John found himself following behind two women wearing the uniforms of the PET department. Recognizing the distinctive walk of one, he called out, “Hello, Madame Bower. How are you today?”
Ruth Bower slowed but didn’t stop. “Hello, Mr. Rogers,” she said without turning around. “I’m doing well, thank you. Just heading back after taking my new charge up to see a fight for the first time. I’m sure you remember Rosie?”
“Of course I do,” said John, smiling down at the girl who had turned to look over her shoulder as they moved along. “And what did you think of your first fight, Ms. Rosie?”
Rosie looked up again, but hesitated, trying to decided how to answer. “Well… it was, kind of, amazing and terrible at the same time.” John arched his eyebrow questioningly.
“The Adams are so big, and so strong. I was in awe. I think I still am.
“And then when they fight, it’s so… so… brutal? Terrible? Something. It’s like their only purpose is to kill, and that’s really, really intimidating, especially since I’ll be around them every day. Does that make sense?”
John nodded reassuringly. “I know exactly what you mean. I will say that, like it or not, their purpose is actually to kill. It is literally why they exist: to win at all costs. That said, they’re still kinda-sorta-mostly people like you or me — just much, much bigger.
“Does that make you feel better?” John asked teasingly.
“Yeah, sure — thanks,” Rosie replied with a smirk.
“So, aside from being scared of the Adams that you’re supposed to take care of, how are you finding your time here so far?”
Rosie stopped, bringing the threesome to an abrupt halt. She cocked her hip and added her hand for emphasis before responding. “First, I’m not scared of them — just intimidated.” Then she smiled broadly. “Second, I like it so much. I really can’t thank you enough for taking me in. I’ve never had so much food and water, and Madame Bower even says I’m starting to fill out like a woman should,” she said, emphasizing her point by raising her hands and spinning around. “See?”
John laughed and looked her up and down in a overly lecherous way, clearly meant to tease. “Absolutely.” Rosie responded by sticking her tongue out.
John smirked back. “And where are you off to now?”
Clearly having no idea, Rosie shrugged and looked at her superior. Madame Bower responded, “Now that Rosie has some context as to why we’re here, it’s time she met some of the Adams, so I’ll be taking her on rounds for the next several bells.”
“Good for you — it’s about time she started doing some work to pay for all the food she’s been eating.” Rosie’s reply this time was a huff and an exaggerated pout. John’s smirk got bigger. “Well, Rosie, I hope you enjoy yourself — my Mom always seemed to,” said John with a wink toward Ruth.
“Er… thanks?” said Rosie as John waved and continued down the hall.
In his office after the hallway encounter, John continued to smile. Rosie looked so much better than she had when they first met. Her skin had a healthy glow and her face didn’t look nearly so gaunt. She was still underweight, but clearly on the right track. Most importantly, at least to John, she seemed to be just as feisty as ever — he was glad that the necessary formality of the Complex hadn’t driven that out of her yet. Who knows, maybe it never would.
Regardless, he had more important things to consider, like how he was going to keep Pip from getting killed by a pool Adam. He couldn’t tell Pip about the testing program — that would defy the Council, if not directly, at least by intent. This meant that discussing strategy or practicing was out.
Or maybe not. Maybe John couldn’t have Pip practice the particular strike that had killed Hammer, but they could try to practice that time-thing that Pip did. The problem was that John already knew that Pip hadn’t been able to duplicate the Effect, which is what they had started calling it. They had tried to make it happen again during regular workouts, and even did some easy sparring between them, but that just left John with bruises on both his jaw and ego. They would have to get more creative, that was clear.
John kicked his feet up onto the oversized desk, thinking through possibilities. The most obvious approach was to whack Pip in the head again, but that would wait until all other possibilities were exhausted. It could be that the Effect was driven by a fear reaction, brought on by seeing Hammer bearing down. Or possibly a release of adrenaline? John didn’t really pose a threat to Pip, so it could have been that Pip instinctually knew he was in no danger; thus, no real fear.
But how to get a true fear reaction without putting Pip in actual danger? It might not be possible. What’s more, having just had a fight, Pip wouldn’t come up in the regular rotation again for more than two weeks, and by then it would be too late to practice — in fact, if John’s request to Director Humbolt was granted, Pip might have already faced the pool Adam by then.
If they couldn’t test fear, the could certainly test adrenaline. By the time the next bell struck, John was already on his way to find Pip, an idea having gone from inception to maturity very quickly.
After checking Pip’s room, John found him in the middle of a cardio workout, dripping sweat but still running hard and looking like he had energy to spare.
“Yo, Pip!” he called, trying to flag him down from across the huge courtyard. “Come ‘ere!”
Pip didn’t slow his pace, but did cut short his circuit to comply with John’s summons. When he arrived, he was breathing evenly and had no trouble speaking, despite the obvious intensity of his run. “Hey, John — what’s up?”
John jumped right in, excited to put his plan into motion. “I want to try again to duplicate the Effect.”
Pip shrugged. “If you like. Should I try to pull my punches more this time?” he said with a smirk.
“Smartass,” replied John without anger. “Listen, I think it might be caused by adrenaline. Or maybe fear, but that would be harder to test. So I want to try to get you all amped up and see what happens. Are you game?”
“Sure — I’m all for doing something fun. What do you have in mind?”
John smiled broadly. “I was thinking about finding something that goes really fast. I want to grab a couple bikes and head over to that flat stretch of road on the East side of the city. I’ve already called the Meister’s Office and they’re shutting it down so we can play a little. Wanna see how fast the bikes can go?”
“Damn straight, I do,” replied a broadly smiling Pip.
Less than a bell later they were sitting on their bikes at the agreed upon road. The bikes themselves were sized appropriately to fit their riders, but were otherwise similar. The machines were a purely functional matte gray without adornment. The seats and handles were black; the electric motors a flat white. Even so, the riders looked damned impressive to the crowd that had gathered, towering over the officials speaking with them and dressed in their black protective gear.
Introductions and instructions completed, the men dropped their visors and started their first pass at roughly half speed, as agreed upon. All too quickly, at least for Pip, the reached the curve at the end of the run.
“Having fun?” John asked, smiling.
“S’ok,” replied Pip. “I thought you said we were going to go fast.”
“Suits me. Three quarters this time? I’ll set the pace and you keep up.”
“Much better — let’s do it.”
Moments later the bikes sped past the onlookers, whose numbers were steadily growing as word spread.
“Better,” asked John.
Pip shrugged. “Eh. I guess so.”
“Really?” asked John, genuinely surprised. “I started to lift off my seat by the end.” Pip just shrugged again. “Alright, hot shot. You set the pace this time, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Pip smiled and nodded, then dropped his visor again.
Their next pass left the crowd stunned and John gasping. “Holy shit, Pip. I didn’t really think you’d open up the throttle all the way.”
“Yeah, that was much better.”
John was incredulous, left momentarily speechless. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely. I liked that quite a bit. It’s neat to hit the end of the throttle, but I wish it could go a bit faster.”
Shaking his head, John replied, “Nope — I’m out. You can do the next one on your own. If I repeat that, I’m going to shit myself, die, or maybe both.” Having made up his mind, John took off his helmet and hooked it on the seat behind himself. “Damn kids these days — don’t have the sense the Lord gave them.
“Wait until I’m down at the other end, and then you can take another pass.”
Pip watched John ride away at a much more reasonable pace, and an idea came into his mind. Without his handler close by, there was no one to tell him what to do, so before John reached the end and saw what he was doing, Pip took off his helmet and set it aside before shucking his reinforced jacket. Smiling to himself, Pip remounted the bike and looked down the long stretch of road, watching his mentor. The instant John’s foot touched the ground, Pip cranked the throttle and took off, hitting the bike’s limit as soon as he was able. He was having so much fun that he actually had to lock up the brakes to stop before the fast approaching curve, leaving long trails of black on the otherwise grayish road surface.
When he stopped less than an arm’s length from an open-mouthed John, he was smiling as much as ever in his life. “Now that was fun,” enthused Pip.
This time, John failed to come up with any words as he stared at his ward. For his part, Pip continued smiling and started to rock his hips slightly side to side, clearly very pleased with himself. It didn’t help that the spectators were cheering loudly.
John eventually decided it was best to just let it go. “Well, did time at least slow down for you?”
“Nope — not even a little.”
“Damn – I guess that rules out fear and adrenaline.”
Pip smiled. “No, just adrenaline. I wasn’t scared.”
“Seriously? You were just going who knows how fast, without any safety gear, and you weren’t scared at all?”
“Nah. I’d already seen the road going that direction once so I knew what to expect, and I’m comfortable on the bike. Why would I be scared?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said John, his voice raising to a shout, “because a tire could blow out! Or you hit a rock! Or a gust of wind hits that oversized head of yours!”
Even though John was obviously pissed, Pip still felt great about having fun and pulling one over on his handler at the same time. “Yeah, didn’t occur to me. At least we had fun, right?”
John just shook his head and let out a dramatic sigh, “Damn kids.”
Gathering himself, John started again. “Alright, Pip, so what do we do now? I thought this would check both boxes, but since you’re apparently a speed freak, we’ll need to come up with something else.”
“Another fight?”
“That’s what I thought, but what if it doesn’t work? You might get your head knocked in. No, we should try to come up with something else.”
Pip shrugged. “You’re supposed to be the brains, John — I just follow orders.”
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go grab your gear and then head back.” When Pip smiled, John quickly interjected, “and no more full throttle. Without your helmet especially, keep it at half or less, understand?”
Pip nodded and took off, still smiling. John’s concern was justified a moment later when Pip started riding a wheelie down the road, waving to the crowd as he went, going faster than John would have felt comfortable doing either. “Damn kids.”
Late that afternoon John was again sitting in his office contemplating the Effect, and more specifically, how to trigger it. Pip had shown himself to be fearless on the bike, largely due to a combination of reckless youth and arrogance — what’s worse, if he was honest with himself, was that John admired Pip’s good-natured bravado. Even so, to amplify the experience further would likely lead to a significant injury or worse. So what to do?
Unfortunately, John’s low key brainstorming session was abruptly interrupted by Lilith Collins, the Director of Public Relations. “What the actual fuck?” she yelled at him without preamble as she stormed into the office. “Were you trying to get him killed in front of all those people?”
Always fiery, Director Collins looked to be in a particularly foul temper. Although her head only reached John’s midsection, Lilith Collins was a formidable woman, widely perceived to be both brilliant and ruthless. Knowing that direct confrontation was never the best approach with her, John chose to try semi-ignorance. “Who, Pip? Are you talking about us taking the bikes out?”
Director Collins didn’t respond verbally, but her look told John that a different tact was immediately necessary.
“Okay, okay,” acquiesced John, deciding semi-truth might work better. “It’s really not a big deal. I wanted to test Pip’s fear response, so I thought going fast would be a good way to do it.”
“Without a helmet? Are you fucking serious?”
“Hold on a minute, Director,” said John holding up his hands. “That wasn’t actually my idea — that was Pip’s doing.”
“But you let him!”
“Uh, actually, no. See, we decided to, uh, actually open up the bikes all the way and…”
“You what?” She was now shouting at him. “You were going full throttle on race bikes? On a public street?”
“Well, yes. When you say it like that it does sound like a stupid idea, but…”
“You think?”
“Director, please, hear me out.
“I really needed to test Pip’s fear response, and I thought that would be a reasonably safe way.” The director huffed loudly, but John kept going. “I didn’t expect we’d be going that fast, but Pip wasn’t even breathing hard with the last pass I led, so I let him choose the speed on the next one and he opened it up all the way.”
“Without his helmet?” she responded, clearly not impressed.
“No, no. He had his helmet on at that point. But, after going that fast, I’ll admit I may have been a bit shaken afterward. I told him he was on his own for the last pass and went back to where we started. No sooner do I get there and he’s screaming down the road, no helmet, no jacket, looking like he’s having the most fun he’s ever had. I was about ready to kill him myself, but he was just grinning like a self-satisfied idiot.” John shrugged. “Kids: what are ya gonna do?”
“I don’t know — maybe act like an adult. Do your job. Keep your Adam from killing himself. Any of those would be a good start.”
“To be fair,” John started, knowing he was about to test Collins’ limits, “Pip’s fine. More than fine actually. It’s like he’s on top of the world. My only real concern is that he’s going to try to push the limits in the future, and is eventually going to bite off more than he can chew. But that’s not necessarily a terrible trait in an Adam — Pip’s smart, aggressive, and damn near fearless.”
Director Collins threw herself down into a chair, letting go of some of her righteous anger. “Did you at least accomplish what you wanted to do?”
John smiled and shook his head. “No, the punk wasn’t scared at all. All of that for nothing, huh?”
Collins let out a long sigh, tilting her head against the chair back and closing her eyes. “Alright. What’s done is done, but do you understand what a disaster it would have been if either of you crashed. Even if it wasn’t fatal. Especially Pip.”
“Thanks, Director Collins — I’m touched by your concern for my well-being,” John said sarcastically, but without malice.
“Look, Mr. Rogers — hell, can I just call you John?”
John shrugged; being on a first name basis with a director was not usually a bad thing. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Look, John — you’re a big, good looking guy.” John puffed up his chest. “But have you seen Pip?” John deflated, hanging his head in mock defeat. “Knock it off — you know what I mean.
“I don’t know if you noticed then, or have seen the recording the reporter made, but there were a lot of women along that road. When he went flying past without his helmet, I bet any one of them would have thrown themselves at his feet if given the opportunity. I mean, he looks like a classical statue come to life. Plus, he’s crazy and reckless. And then he takes time to ride past them again, showing off and waving. He’s like a perfect mix of bad boy and good guy, at least from the outside. Get it now?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said John. “I know all of that is objectively true; it’s just not something I worried about. Do I need to start? Should I keep him in the Complex?”
“Actually, I’m thinking quite the opposite.” John’s eyebrows raised without his being aware of their behavior. “I think he should be the face of the Adam program.”
To this John couldn’t help but laugh: a full, deep belly laugh.
“Stop it! It’s not funny,” said Director Collins defensively. “It’s a good idea.”
It took a little while, but John settled himself. “Director Collins-”
“Please, call me Lilith.”
“Oh, okay. Director Lilith-”
“Knock it off.”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Lilith, listen — Pip is as far from a typical Adam as it is possible to be while still being in the program. You couldn’t pick one that was less representative of the others.”
“I know,” she replied confidently, “and that’s why I want him. Humor me for a moment and you’ll see what I see. Describe an Adam for me.”
“Well,” he said thinking about it, “big, strong, smart.”
“And?”
“Well… intimidating?” he said, thinking back to the earlier hallway conversation with Rosie.
“Yes, but not just intimidating. Scary. Really fucking scary, in fact. You might not see it because you’re so much bigger than everyone in the entire city, but for a woman that only reaches to their waists, I shudder at the thought of being alone with them.”
“Okay, sure, but they’d never hurt you.”
“First, you know that there have been incidents, even deaths.” John reluctantly agreed with a nod. “And second, even though I know that intellectually, it’s still hard to make myself believe it completely. What’s more, that’s me — I’ve been around the Adams for years and years. Picture normal mom-on-the-street, coming across an Adam. She’d run away screaming — no doubt in my mind.”
“Alright, I agree. So what is it you want with Pip?”
“Nothing bad. No stunts or anything like that, but I do want the city’s people to see him more, get to know him, and through him the program.”
“Ma’am — er, Lilith — do you really think that regular folks are ready to see what goes on here? I mean, they already know — intellectually, like you said — but are they ready to really understand that the Adams purposefully, almost gladly, kill each other? How are they going to react?
“How will they react when the golden boy gets killed?”
“These are good questions, John. The truth is, I think you’re right on both accounts, so we won’t let them see the fights. Furthermore, Pip just won’t fight any more.”
“What?” John exclaimed, rising from his chair. “Do you know how hard Pip has worked to stay in the program? He’s been given dozens of opportunities to bail, and has passed on them all. Telling him that his dream — no, his purpose in life — is over, that may well kill him.”
“You think he feels that strongly?”
“With certainty. He doesn’t look like it compared to the pool Adams, but Pip’s a born fighter, and he’ll do amazing things if given the chance.”
“What makes you so sure?”
This question, while both simple and straightforward, put John in a very difficult position. To tell the director about the hypothesized Effect would mean putting a huge amount of trust in a woman he didn’t know very well. This could easily make him a target of ridicule, or even lead to his removal from the program or the Complex itself. In addition to ending the only career he had ever envisioned for himself, it would also leave Pip without the only handler he’d known. Even if she did believe him, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that one of Dr. Shepard’s medical colleagues in R&D would dissect his charge to find out what was different.
“Call it a gut feeling. I’ve known Pip his whole life, so I know him better than anyone. There’s something special about him, and I think it’s on the verge of coming out.”
Lilith folded her arms. “Gut feeling, huh? I don’t buy it. I think there’s something else going on, and I want you to tell me what it is.”
John sighed in genuine defeat. “Director Collins, I can’t.” She started to interrupt but John barreled on, “not yet.”
Lilith paused, her arm still raised. “Okay, fine, but when are you planning to level with me?”
John looked directly into her eyes, letting the intensity of his feelings show through. “You know how the fight earlier played out? And what it means for the proposal that Dr. Shepard brought to the Council?”
Lilith nodded. “It means the magic bullet doesn’t exist; but we all suspected as much anyway.”
“Well, ma’am, I don’t think that’s actually the case. At the next Council meeting, when the topic arises for discussion, Director Humbolt will propose that Pip be allowed to fight one of the pool Adams, to demonstrate the strike.”
“What?” asked the shocked woman. “Why on earth would we let that happen? Pip won a fight against a superior opponent, but there’s a big difference between a pool Adam and the one he killed. He doesn’t stand a chance — you’d just be sending him to his own death.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s what Director Humbolt said as well, but I’m certain he has a legitimate chance.”
“Does this have something to do with that stunt on the bike?”
“Yes, ma’am, it does.”
“And it was so important that you were willing to risk Pip’s life?”
“Well, as I said, I don’t think he was really in that much danger; but yes, it is that important.”
It was rare that Lilith found herself truly surprised, but John’s statements definitely did that. “I suppose you want me to go along with Director Humbolt?”
“Yes, ma’am, I would appreciate that very much. I was hoping Director Humbolt would be able to make convincing arguments on his own, but having an ally on the Council can only help.”
“So let’s say that Pip gets his fight, and it turns out you’re wrong. He’s dead and your career is probably over. What then?”
John took a deep breath. “To be honest, when Pip’s run is over, so is mine.” John held up his his palm to forestall the pending objection. “I said earlier that Pip is a poor representative for Adams, and I didn’t just mean physically; he’s the smartest I’ve known, and he has an actual personality. He really doesn’t fit the mold.
“Keep in mind that I’ve been with the Adam program my entire adult life; hell, my father was an Adam and my mother worked here at the Complex. I don’t think I could be the handler for another rubber stamp Adam — not after Pip — it wouldn’t be fair to my new charge.”
“I see,” said the director. “What about my plans for Pip? You think it’s worth risking them for a gut feeling?”
“Ma’am, I fully respect what your department does, and why it is so critical to the program. It keeps the public behind us and also ensures we have funding.” Another deep breath and John started again, “but in the end, it’s a lot of window dressing for the actual content: the true ability of the Adams. What I’m talking about — what I think we have in Pip — it has the potential to fundamentally change what we’re doing here. So yes, I think that’s worth the risk.”
“So why not just let Pip fight one of the immature Adams?”
John shrugged. “Honestly, I think the end result would be the same, and it’s not like the Council is going to give more weight to a second immature Adam getting killed in a training fight. Eventually, Pip will have to either join the pool or resign, and I’ve already told you that he isn’t going to quit. Pushing off the fight is only going to delay the inevitable.
“What’s more, additional practice isn’t going to help. He already has near perfect form, definitely the best in his class. The only reason we held him back was to give him time to get bigger, but he’s passed eighteen years now and should be in the pool anyway.”
Director Collins was silent for a while. “Alright, John, you’ve made your point.”
“So you’ll support Director Humbolt?”
“We’ll see. Council meetings have a tendency to go in unexpected directions.”
John exhaled the breath he had been unconsciously holding. “I understand. Thank you for hearing me out — I know it’s hard to swallow.”
“You’re welcome.” With that, she got up to leave, but as she reached the door she paused. “Listen, John…”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I like the way you think. Regardless of what happens, I’d be happy to have you in my department.”
“Thanks again. I hope that won’t be necessary for a long time, but I appreciate the offer.”
She smiled and nodded. “Good. And please, feel free to stop by if you need a sounding board. If things work out my way, we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other anyway.”
John watched her leave, contemplating how much more complicated things had become in the last several days. What’s more, he may have just picked a fight on Pip’s behalf, and they still didn’t know how to trigger the Effect, if it even existed in the first place. Why had he argued so hard? Oh well, he thought to himself, what’s done is done.
Chapter 4
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, Rosie,” replied Madame Bower as they walked toward the Adams’ living area.
“I’m not quite sure how to ask, but what exactly is Physical and Emotional Therapy? The other ladies have been very, uh, circumspect when I ask. I’ve been trying to get a straight answer for days, but all I seem to get are giggles and winks and sexual innuendo. Is our job to have sex with the Adams?”
Ruth stopped in mid-stride and turned to her subordinate. “No, that’s not our job,” she replied, causing Rosie to let out a breath, clearly relieved. “But it is a nice perk,” she continued with a smile.
“Seriously? How is that even physically possible? I mean, unless their, uh… parts are not, er… proportionate?”
Ruth snorted aloud, covering her mouth to try to stifle the noise. Rosie’s look, showing that she was clearly not impressed, made Ruth laugh harder so that she had to step back to lean against the wall. Rosie watched tears stream down Ruth’s face, and felt her own face grow red. “Stop it, please. I’m really scared, and I still haven’t gotten a straight answer.” It was fortunate that Rosie hadn’t stomped her foot with indignation, or some other equally juvenile expression of frustration, because Ruth would have really lost it and ended up sitting on the floor.
Ruth regained her composure, eventually, and opened up her arms, “Come here, Rosie.” The young lady obeyed immediately, happy for a chance to hide her embarrassment in the older woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Honey, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. You just looked so cute and petulant: it was priceless. Thank you so much, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”
“Happy to help,” came Rosie’s muffled reply, her face still buried.
“I know,” said Ruth as she pushed the young woman to arm’s length and looked at her. “Honey, that’s what we’re doing today. I’m going to show you how to take care of the Adams’ needs, but it’s not really about the… intimate parts. Our job is to make sure they’re well cared for, and to keep them at peak performance. This might be giving a massage, or administering a basic medical treatment, or just helping them change dressings — they’re always beating each other up.”
“But I don’t know how to do any of those things properly!” Rosie exclaimed with frustration. “That means the only thing I’ll be useful for is a getting them off. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but the only thing that will have changed is that food here is better than when I was on the street.” Tears, the painful kind, were starting to roll down Rosie’s cheeks.
“Rosie, listen to me. We’re not prostitutes, and anything that happens is consensual. As for how to do the rest, that’s what I’m here for, as well as the other ladies. For example, we have girls that are really good at things like massages, and so the Adams know to ask for them. We’ll find where your gifts are and then we’ll build on them. No two of my ladies are the same, and that’s a good thing.” Ruth paused for effect. “So you don’t need to worry about being a well fed harlot.”
Rosie smiled through her tears, despite herself. After a calming breath, she wiped her face on her sleeve, “Okay.”
“Good. Now let’s both get cleaned up so we look our best for the Adams.”
“Um, Ruth?”
“Yes, Rosie.”
“What’s your specialty?”
The older woman smiled and said, “Actually, I’m good at everything,” then headed off down the hall.
A quarter bell later they stood in front of the first room. “So we just stop by any room we want?” asked Rosie.
“Not quite. Of course, you’re welcome to do as you like on your own time as long as it’s not disruptive, but in general we have a set schedule. Since we’re here to serve the Adams, they have a lot of input into who visits them and when, but they tend to be creatures of habit, so it’s pretty straightforward. Each morning, at seven bells, you’ll come to the Lounge and get your route schedule. I expect that it will be quite a while before you do solo rounds, though, so you’ll be accompanying different ladies as they do theirs.”
“Uh, Ruth, what if things get physical during their rounds?”
“That’s to be expected, Rosie — we are the Physical and Emotional Therapy department.”
Rosie folder her arms, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Ruth smiled, “Of course — I was just teasing. If things do take a turn toward the sexual, you’re welcome to either excuse yourself or join in, but that’s really up to you.”
“Seriously?”
“Always,” replied a smiling Ruth. “Enough questions for now; the best way to learn is by doing, so let’s step in.”
Ruth knocked on the door, two quick raps, a pause, and then a third. A raspy voice made a grunt and Ruth led the way inside.
The room was reasonable in size: roughly eight strides across and twelve in length. The floor was dark gray concrete and the walls light gray block, lending it a vaguely military vibe. On the right end as she entered was a very large bed and an accompanying end table with lamp. On the other side was a round table with two chairs; one of the chairs was enormous, clearly intended for the Adam, while the other was a more typical tall chair like would be found at a bar. In the middle of the room, against the back wall, were assorted clothes hanging from a single bar higher up than Rosie could reach if she jumped. The only personal effects Rosie noticed at all were a wide red ribbon wrapped around the nearest bedpost and a somewhat worn picture of a young woman on the side table by the bed. The Adam was reclining on his bed, getting to a stopping point in whatever comically undersized book he was reading.
“Hi, Ruth. Who’s the new girl?”
“Hello, Max. This is Rosie.” Turning to the younger girl, she completed the introduction, “Rosie, this is Max. He’s one of the more experienced Adams here. I thought this would be a good, safe place to start.”
Max laughed. “I like that you see me as safe, Ruth. I don’t hear that very often.”
“Why not?” interjected Rosie.
Max smiled and set down his book and swung his legs off the bed. As he rose to his feet Rosie noticed that the ceiling was especially high, more than three times her height, and Max would probably hit his head if he were to jump. Wherever she could see skin, Max was nearly covered in scars. Looking more closely at his face, Rosie saw that his right eye was entirely white and that the left corner of his mouth didn’t seem to open all the way when he talked. “Oh, I see.”
Max laughed good naturedly. “I thought you might. Do you play chess?”
“Excuse me, what?” responded Rosie, caught off-guard.
“Chess. It’s what Ruth and I usually do when she stops by.”
Rosie turned to Ruth, “But we’re PETs. What does that have to do with chess?”
“Remember I said that we take care of the Adams? Sometimes that means keeping them company. Max here likes to lose at chess.”
“Hey!” Max responded. “I don’t always lose. I won twice last week.”
“How often do you two play?” Rosie asked.
Ruth looked pensive. “I come by every day and we usually play four or five games…”
Max spoke up, “Don’t let her innocent act fool you, Rosie; she’s more ruthless on a chessboard than I ever was in the Arena.”
“Was? Do you still fight?”
“Not the way I did. Not after I lost the vision in my eye: too hard to see attacks coming, and my depth perception is gone. That’s probably why I lose so much to Ruth.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Ruth. “You were always terrible at chess, even with two good eyes.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, now I mostly help train the pool Adams, analyze fights afterward — that kind of thing.”
“I’m sorry to hear about that, Max,” said Rosie. “I’m sure you must have been quite something. Did you win the last fight?”
Max gave Rosie an odd look, then looked to Ruth.
“Rosie,” started Ruth, “Max fought for our city, not just here in training like you saw earlier. In the real matches, someone nearly always dies. Max is here so he had to have won.”
“Oh,” said Rosie. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry if I offended you, Max.”
“It’s no problem, it just surprised me a little. Did you grow up Rieckenburg?”
“Yes, sir — in the Fourth Quarter.”
Max nodded. “That explains it. I’ve never been there, but my guess is that you’ve been in more fights than I have.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Rosie replied, enjoying the friendly banter. “So, chess?”
“Absolutely.” Max made it across the room in four easy steps, seating himself at the table; he pulled a slightly oversized chess set from a drawer Rosie had not seen. “So who is on the chopping block first?”
“Not me, please,” said Rosie. “I don’t actually know all of the rules.”
“No problem. Since I only have two chairs, you can watch me destroy your boss from the best seat in the house.”
“And where is that?” asked Rosie.
The Adam smiled and patted his right thigh, “Right here, of course.”
Despite her initial misgivings, Rosie enjoyed the visit, sitting on Max’s lap and watching her supervisor beat him repeatedly. In defeat Max was anything but gracious, constantly making up excuses, including how Rosie was distracting him with her unceasing wiggling, but it was all in fun and had the ladies laughing regularly.
When the bell tolled, the two women prepared to take their leave. As they stood by the door ready to say goodbye, Max dropped to his knees, now only slightly towering over Rosie, and held open his arms. Rosie gladly stepped into the embrace, finding she could barely reach under his arms, but hugging him as best she could. “Thanks, Max — see you around?”
“I hope so, Rosie.”
Ruth’s hug from Max was a little more personal, ending with a kiss and a brief whispered conversation. When they stepped out of the room, both women were smiling.
Walking to the next appointment, Rosie said, “He’s a great guy, isn’t he?”
“The best.”
“Is it a big deal that he won a real match?”
“Yes, Rosie, it is a very big deal. And Max won four fights.”
“That’s a lot, then?”
“The most ever for our city. He really is the best.”
Rosie was silent, contemplating her part in this complex machine. “Thanks for introducing me to him, Ruth.”
“You’re welcome, Honey. Ready for the next one?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said a smiling Rosie.
Chapter 5
Once again in the Complex Council chamber, John concentrated on breathing steadily and trying to keep his anxiety from showing. He had given up following the discussion in detail some time during the first bell, because he was simply too preoccupied with the pending discussion concerning Pip — or rather, the discussion that he hoped would concern Pip.
At last John’s topic of interest was brought to the table. All of the Council members had taken time to watch the fight replay, so the recap was very brief, followed by the affected directors giving their assessments. Dr. Shepard was again present, but was only asked to describe the injuries sustained by the victorious Adam, the one called Topper. “Nothing extraordinary for a pool Adam fight. In the general area of interest there was some bruising, but nothing beyond that. Furthermore, the one relevant strike did not land in the target location; even if it had been harder, the desired result would not have been achieved.”
After the doctor it was Director Humbolt that spoke, recounting his debriefing with Topper. “It’s not exactly abnormal that I would do the fight debrief, but it’s not common either; Topper was understandably surprised. Even so, it was evident that he was entirely satisfied with the result, as would be expected given the lopsided victory.
“What’s more, when I asked if he thought there was anything remarkable about the way that Mitch — that is, the other Adam — approached the fight, Topper told me that a disproportionate number of strikes were coming from his right hand. Consequently, Topper purposefully shifted his stance so that his left foot was moved slightly back from typical in order to force Mitch to overextend if he continued to favor that hand, which he obviously did.”
“And your assessment?” asked Director Baker, clearly concerned about the outcome of his newest project.
Director Humbolt managed to sneak an apologetic glance to John before starting, “Not good. We already heard from Director Baker that his team determined trials with immature Adams will be inconclusive, given the expected difference in bone density. We also have three Adams out of training until they heal from the tests that made that conclusion possible, as well as the fatality. Of course, none of this is much of a surprise, but the complete inability of a pool Adam to achieve the objective is extremely discouraging. In my opinion, it is entirely possible that there is something here, but I would recommend a much more passive approach.”
“Such as?” asked Director Baker.
“Show the Adams what happened and train them how to exploit that kind of opportunity, like we do with other vulnerable points. However, the danger I see is that an Adam misses a good opening because they’re waiting for a perfect one. We would need to make it clear that hitting this spot is a once or twice in a lifetime thing, and not something for them to be chasing.”
Director Baker folded his arms and sat back in his chair, disappointed with the assessment, but unable to find fault. Director Jacobs, pleased to have his opinion confirmed, also sat back, but with a much more relaxed posture. The Council was silent for several moments as the directors allowed room for dissenting opinions.
Director Collins, sensing an opportunity, sat forward. “Ma’am,” she started, addressing the Executive Director, “this is a slight divergence from the topic at hand, but I would like to make a proposal regarding one of the Adams involved.”
The Executive Director, ever stoic, nodded her assent. Lilith began outlining her plan to create a Public Relations poster child, keeping details vague so as not to create too many opportunities for questions.
Before Lilith could finish her explanation the Executive Director raised her palm. “Why would we make a symbol out of an immature subject?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. This subject, although he was held back in the program because of his abnormally slow growth rate, is actually eighteen years old, and thus mature.” The Council head sat back in her chair and silence settled into the room, save for the sound of breathing and the occasional cough.
“Dr. Shepard,” she said, “is there any reason, physically speaking, that this subject could not fight against a pool Adam?”
Dr. Shepard considered the question for a moment. “No, ma’am. Other than being relatively small, he is well suited for the arena.”
“Who is his handler?”
John stepped forward, “That would be me, ma’am.”
“Is that so?” she asked rhetorically. “Mr. Rogers, do you see any reason that your charge should not by placed in the Adam pool?”
“No, ma’am. I believe he is ready. In fact, if I might make a suggestion?”
She nodded her head.
“Give Pip, my charge, a fight against a mid-tier or higher pool Adam. I believe he can duplicate the strike that he delivered in his last fight.”
“Is that so?” she asked again, even more intrigued. “How long does he need to be ready?”
“Ten days will be enough.”
The Executive Director sat back in her chair. “As you say, Mr. Rogers. Director Humbolt, you will make the arrangements, including selection of the opponent.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the director.
“Director Collins, if Mr. Rogers’ charge survives, you can have him for your campaign. We will not have an unsuitable Adam representing the entire program.”
Lilith nodded and the meeting moved on to other topics. For his part, John immediately tuned out again, silently celebrating his defeat-turned-victory. As the meeting adjourned, Director Collins caught his eye, clearing indicating that she wanted to speak with him.
A short time later they were walking slowly together down a back hallway. “Well done, John. How did you outmaneuver me?”
“I’m sorry, Lilith, that wasn’t my intention. And I didn’t really do anything specific, just spoke up when asked. I guess I was trying to seize the opportunity. When Director Humbolt shot down the idea, I thought that was it; I didn’t expect her majesty to overrule him.”
Lilith smiled. “Yeah, well, Council meetings can be unpredictable, especially when she gets involved. For what it’s worth, if Humbolt would have proposed the idea, I would have followed along. As it was, I tried to seize my own opportunity — I guess I inadvertently helped you after all. No hard feelings?”
“No, not this time anyway,” responded John with a grin. “I know that politics can be vicious, but this actually felt like the Council was trying to find the right answer, same as me. I just hope that it’s me that ends up being correct.”
“Me too, John. So what are you going to do now? I assume you still haven’t cracked Pip’s fear response.”
“Actually, I did have an idea during the Council meeting.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“It was actually the same thing that got her majesty’s attention: when you pointed out that Pip is mature physically.”
“Hey, don’t rub it in. But what does that have to do with your idea?”
“Pip hasn’t been in the pool.”
“And?”
“That means he’s been living in the quad rooms with the adolescents.”
“And?” she asked again with some irritation.
“So he’s never had his own room, which means he’s never had a visit from the lovely ladies in blue.”
Lilith stopped. “How does having a PET show up help Pip?”
John smiled at her. “You do know that back and foot rubs aren’t the only kind of physical contact they provide, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So Pip’s never had anyone touch him in a way that’s not purely medical. I would imagine that he, like any regular eighteen year old guy, doesn’t have a clue what to expect, but is anxious about it anyway.”
Lilith gawped. “You think he’s going to be scared of a girl?”
“Uh huh,” John grinned. “Terrified. Especially if it’s a woman that is brand new and nervous as hell — he’ll pick up on that right away because he’s good at reading emotions. Even better, I know the perfect girl.”
John’s good mood was infectious, causing Lilith to smile. “Of course you do. And when are you planning to start?”
“No time like the present. Want to come watch the show? Having a director along is only going to make him more nervous.”
Lilith thought about declining, then gave in, “Sure, why not? If nothing else, it will give me a chance to meet him.”
She started walking toward the PET Lounge. “And who knows — if he’s really as good looking in person as he was on camera, maybe I’ll join in.”
John smiled to himself and shook his head as he watched one of the most powerful women in the world saunter down the hallway. Who would have thought?
More than a bell later, for it had taken some time to find Rosie and clear her schedule, preparations were finally complete. While they had been waiting, John had arranged for Pip to be transferred to a solo room amongst the pool Adams, although Pip had not yet been informed. John then had Rosie go wait in the new room, giving her no information other than that she was to meet a new Adam.
For her part, Rosie was extremely nervous; seeing John again was nice, but Director Collins was almost as intimidating as the Adams, despite being so petite. The woman had extremely dark eyes that seemed to pierce Rosie every time the director looked her way. Sitting alone in the room with only a bed, Rosie’s imagination was running wild.
For Pip, it was only marginally better. He had seen Director Collins before, but definitely did not expect the woman to walk into his room and start explaining her plans for him; John just stood by wearing his zero emotion face. “Ma’am, why me?”
Lilith paused her explanation. “Because you’re young, handsome, and not so fucking big. I think regular people, people that look like me, will be able to relate better to you than a more… typical Adam.”
“Well what about John, then? He’s not bad looking, and he’s only half my size.”
“Thanks, smart ass,” responded John.
“Nope, won’t work,” interjected Lilith before Pip could respond in kind. “We need someone in the program, so you’re it.”
“Do I get a choice?” asked Pip without much hope.
“Sure,” responded the director, “you can choose to do it on your own, or I can choose for you to do it.”
“Yes, ma’am — you can count me in.”
“Excellent. Welcome aboard. John?”
“Alright, Pip — more good news.”
Pip groaned and fell back on his bed. “What now?”
“Gather your crap. Now that you’ve hit the big time, you get your own room.”
A quarter bell later they were standing outside Pip’s new room. “Ready?” John asked.
“It’s just a room, right?” asked Pip.
“Sorta,” John replied with an evil grin.
Pip narrowed his eyes, deciding that his handler was definitely up to something. For her part, Director Collins was standing next to John, looking like a kid waiting to open a gift; this only made Pip more nervous. John tilted his head to the door.
Sensing a trap, maybe some sort of initiation ritual, Pip turned the handle and slowly opened the door.
At the same moment, having seen the handle turn, Rosie jumped to her feet; she was almost hyperventilating, trying to fight off panic.
When she saw the young Adam enter the room, her eyes opened wide and her hand went to her mouth of its own volition. Like the other Adams, he was huge, but maybe not quite as much; most everything else about his appearance was different. Rather than the shaved head that most of them favored, this one had dark, curly hair and a beautiful light to medium skin tone that was largely unmarked by scars; his eyes were so dark as to look black, even in the well-lit room. He was dressed in shorts with an athletic cut and a shirt without sleeves; his well-defined musculature was on full display and Rosie’s fear and surprise started to turn to something else.
For Pip, the experience was equally dramatic. When their eyes met, he inadvertently dropped the box he was carrying, its contents spilling over the floor. “Oh, shit…” he mouthed, not even noticing, only having eyes for the beautiful young woman in front of the bed. Frozen to the spot, his heart beating loudly in his ears, he took her in.
She was medium height for a woman, with pale skin and dark hair, which she had pulled back in a half ponytail. Her face was thin with a short, sharpish nose and high cheekbones; he couldn’t see her mouth because it was hidden behind a hand with long, slender fingers. Most striking, however, were her slightly oversized, outrageously blue eyes, which were further accentuated by extremely long lashes. Set off by her blue shirt, her irises seemed to give off their own light, leaving Pip in a state of near hypnosis.
Her uniform’s color, long the symbol of adolescent Adams’ fantasies, finally sank into Pip’s addled mind and snapped him out of his trance. How long had he been staring at the poor girl? She probably already thought he was out of his mind, or a total creep — maybe both.
But no, something else was going on, because she hadn’t stopped staring either. In fact, she wasn’t even breathing. Then Pip noticed a coin, balanced on its edge, slowly rolling away from the discarded box. Except that the coin was barely moving — how was that even possible?
Then Pip understood. He was so excited that he tried to give a celebratory whoop, but only managed to begin raising his hand when he realized that he was also moving slowly; instead, he aborted the celebration and focused on the Effect.
Through trial and error, Pip learned that he could change the speed to some extent. Controlling the passage of time felt a bit like trying to hold a fistful of sand: by squeezing tighter — harder? — he could slow, but not stop, the sand. Conversely, it was quite easy to let time slip through his — fingers wasn’t quite right — his whatever-it-is-that-holds-back-time. With this realization came additional clarity, because Pip was able to isolate the feeling that he was semi-consciously using. It was like using a muscle that he didn’t know he had, but only in concept. The process wasn’t quite a mental thing, and certainly wasn’t physical, but might have been somewhere in between. Details aside, Pip found that he could flex it at will, although his control felt relatively weak. What’s more, Pip found himself tiring — which wasn’t really the right word, but was again the right concept — as he got his feelings back under control.
“Oh,” he said as time returned to normal. “So it’s an emotional response. That makes sense.”
John, who had started to enter the room when he heard the box hit, stopped and looked at Pip expectantly. “It worked?”
Pip turned to look at him. “Yeah, it did. This was your plan?”
John gave him a shrug that almost looked embarrassed.
“Good idea, John. I didn’t think about losing control of my emotions being the trigger.”
“I’m not sure that’s what it was, Pip — I think it was fear.”
“Fear?”
John nodded toward Rosie, who had lowered her hand and was obviously very confused by the brief exchange. Pip’s head snapped around and he regarded the young woman again. “Oh, uh, hey.” At least he got words out, sort of.
“Hi,” she said back with a little wave. “I’m Rosie.”
“Hi, Rosie. I’m Adam — I mean, I’m Pip, an Adam.”
“See, Pip: fear.”
“Not helping, John,” he said without turning around. “Just ignore him, Miss Rosie. He’s always a pain, and he’s just enjoying embarrassing me.”
“No problem, Pip. He gives me a hard time, too.”
“Oh, yeah? How do you know John?”
Rosie looked at her feet. “I guess you could say he saved my life: got me off the street.”
“You know…” Pip paused and Rosie raised her head just enough to make eye contact, “that doesn’t really surprise me. I mean, none of the other handlers would take me on as a charge — maybe he just likes reclamation projects,” he finished with a grin, which Rosie happily returned.
“You may have something there,” added Lilith, stepping into the room. “So tell me, Rosie,” Lilith said with a wicked gleam in her eye, “what do you think of Pip here?”
Rosie’s eyes dropped to the floor again and her cheeks reddened. “I don’t know, ma’am, we just met,” she said, even as her lips curled into a smile.
“Uh huh. So, Pip,” she said looking to him, “what worked?”
Pip looked from Lilith to John and back again, not sure how to respond. While Pip was caught in the director’s stare, John quickly contemplated the best path forward. He had told her that he would tell her the full story — no time like the present, or something like that.
“Go ahead, Pip, she already knows most of it.”
Pip was surprised. “Oh, okay. So… what about Rosie? Can she stay, too?”
John and Lilith spoke simultaneously, contradicting each other, then turned to look at one another.
“Look, Lilith, I really like Rosie, which is why I asked her to be here today, but this is a big deal. It’s not… typical,” John said, struggling to find the right word.
“That may be, but you can see the way they look at each other. As soon as this fight is over–”
“What fight?” interrupted Pip.
“–he is going to be mine. Rosie, Honey, it’s not quite like it sounds — I’ll explain later. So don’t fight me on this, John. He’ll need to have a confidant for whatever this is, and she can be it. It’s what the PET ladies are best at.”
John grumbled, but didn’t make further objection.
“So, Pip, what did you learn?”
“John and I have been calling it the Effect, ma’am. It’s going to sound crazy, but I can sorta… slow down time?”
Lilith didn’t say anything for a moment. “Alright, I’ll admit it, that’s not what I was expecting. How does it work?”
“No idea, but I think I figured out how to control it.”
“Can you do it again right now?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Pip stood still, looking at her. After the silence became awkward, Lilith ask, “Did it work?”
“Yes, ma’am. There just wasn’t much going on.”
Lilith gave the young Adam her best annoyed teacher look, then looked at John, as if it was his fault. John held up his hands, trying to ward off her ire.
“Excuse me, Pip?” asked Rosie. “Can you still move when time slows down? If so, that should be easy to see.”
“Good idea, Rosie. See, John, I told you she should stay. Pip?”
“Yes, I can move, but I move slowly like everything else.”
“Is it worth trying anyway?”
“Sure, Rosie, let’s give it a shot. What should we do?”
“I’m not sure. Jump?”
“Yeah,” replied Pip, “that should be a good test. Let me clean up my stuff, then it’s a good idea for you all to stand back.”
As they stepped back, John had an idea. “Hey, Pip — let’s have you try a normal jump to see what that looks like, to act as a control.”
Pip nodded, then took a deep breath, crouched, and jumped straight up. The athleticism on display was remarkable: Pip’s head came within two fingers of the high ceiling, and yet he landed as gracefully as a cat.
When Pip looked at Rosie, for it was to her that he looked first, her eyes were wide with awe. Turning, he saw the wicked gleam had returned to Lilith’s eyes as she plotted all the things she could do to showcase him to the public. John just shrugged.
Pip reset himself. “Ready?”
Crouching, he exerted his newly found ability and time slowed. Pip pushed on the ground, propelling himself upward with his full strength. It was odd to be able to pay attention to the various muscle groups as his legs straightened, and odder still as he left the ground, but these were nothing compared to the realization that he was about to hit the ceiling. Pip squeezed the Effect as hard as he could and time slowed just a little further, giving him time to slowly throw back his head and raise his arms, absorbing the impact rather than crashing into the top of the room. As he started his descent, Pip pushed off with his right arm to start a spin so that he landed facing Rosie; none of the observers heard his feet hit the floor.
“Holy shit,” breathed Lilith, still trying to process what she just saw. “That was absolutely unbelievable. How is what he did even possible?” she asked the room, not really expecting an answer.
“If I had to guess,” said John, “I would say it’s just basic physics. No, really,” he said after seeing Lilith’s incredulous look. “Force is the product of mass and acceleration. He accelerated faster so he went higher.”
“That’s not what I meant, John, but never mind. Pip, are you okay? Pip!”
“Huh? Sorry, ma’am, I… got distracted,” he replied, turning away from Rosie again, who was staring up at the much larger man in front of her, looking like she was completely star struck.
“It’s okay, Pip. Did you hurt yourself with that second jump?”
“No, ma’am. It was a little sketchy there for a moment, but I was able to correct in real time. Or in slow time. However. I didn’t really expect the change to be so dramatic, but I should have — it’s just physics.”
“So I’ve been told,” Lilith responded while folding her arms. “Now what?”
“Now,” interjected John, “you and I, Madame Director, give these two some privacy. Pip, I’ll be back in a couple bells and we can put together a training plan. Sound good?”
“Yeah, sure, John,” said Pip, already turning back to Rosie.
Chapter 6
Rosie walked into the Lounge, absentmindedly swinging her arms and humming to herself. She smiled at some of the ladies on the couches, and then spotted Maggie and Ruth discussing something animatedly across the room. Neither looked particularly pleased, and seeing as how the two women were her closest — really only — friends in the Complex, she decided to investigate.
Rosie approached so that they could both see her, having learned when she was little that sneaking up on someone doesn’t always lead to good results. Ruth spotted Rosie first and immediately stopped talking; Maggie, seeing an opening, took a breath to argue some point, but left it unsaid when she also saw Rosie approaching.
“I get a strong feeling that you were talking about me,” said Rosie, folding her arms. “Am I right?”
“Maggie, you need to work this out with Rosie; I won’t be in the middle of it. I’ve seen this kind of thing tear down long established friendships, and yours is only getting started.” With a final stern look, Ruth pivoted and walked toward the couches, squeezing Rosie’s shoulder as she went by.
“Alright, Roomie, what’s up? I know we haven’t know each other that long, but you don’t look like yourself.”
Maggie put her elbows on the table, her face in her hands, and let long curly brown hair shield her from the pending inquisition. Not knowing what else to do, Rosie moved to stand beside Maggie, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder and the other on her lower back, rubbing in slow circles. Eventually, Maggie raised her head and wiped her eyes on a cloth she pulled from a pocket.
“Thanks, Rosie. I’m a mess today.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Definitely not.” She frowned, “But Ruth is right that I need to anyway.”
“Oh, okay,” replied Rosie, not sure what could have shaken her friend so badly. She couldn’t think of anything she had done to hurt or offend Maggie, so she stayed silent.
“Rosie, I know it’s not your fault…” she started.
“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” said Rosie, feeling very apprehensive about what would follow.
Maggie smiled, just a bit, in spite of herself. “But…” Maggie took a deep breath, “Pip was supposed to be mine.”
Rosie took a startled half step back, accompanied by an unintentional gasp. “What?”
Maggie took another steadying breath. “All the ladies know that I’ve been in love with Pip for more than an entire year. It’s gotten to the point that they all tease me about it. Ruth said that whenever he enters the pool, I’ll be the first one assigned to him.”
“You and Pip are in love?” asked Rosie, stricken by what she was hearing; she had to fight to keep her knees from buckling.
“Yes… and no,” said Maggie sadly. “We’ve never really… so listen, this will make more sense. There was this fight between the trainees last year that we all went to watch — like, all of us. Ruth thought it would be good bonding, or something. Anyway, Pip had a fight, and he was so… so… handsome. And graceful. And… brave? I mean, he lost. He got beat up badly, but he never backed down. And he hurt the other one, pretty badly I think, before they finally stopped it. It was amazing.”
“So you took care of him after the fight?”
“What? No, of course not,” Maggie snapped, causing Rosie to flinch. “Oh, Rosie, I’m so sorry. I forgot that you’re still learning. We only help the pool Adams. The less experienced ones go to medical for treatment and that’s it. The handlers don’t worry about their comfort. I guess it makes them tougher, or meaner, or something like that.
“No, I just saw him, and I fell in love.”
Rosie took this in, turned it around, and considered it from different angles, but still wasn’t understanding. “So, you were with him another time?”
“Not exactly,” replied Maggie, now embarrassed. “I’ve seen him around a lot, and I said ‘hi’ twice, but I think he only heard me once. But there was this one time where he looked at me across the courtyard, and he smiled…”
“Seriously? How can you possibly be in love with someone you’ve never even talked with?” asked Rosie, dumbfounded.
“Don’t you dare judge me, Rosie,” barked Maggie. “You don’t know what it’s like here yet. We’re around people all the time — the ladies, the Adams — but it’s so lonely. I saw him and I knew — I know — that he could be the one for me. So I was going to get first shot at him, to at least find out, and if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong. Rosie, I want a shot at what Ruth has: I want somebody who cherishes me.
“But then his handler shows up and demands you go to his room right away…”
Rosie nodded. “I understand, or at least I’m beginning to. What can I do?”
“I’m not sure. The Adams choose who sees them, which is why I wanted to be first. When are you going back to see him?”
“Tomorrow, midday. He and John are working on the… a new training plan. It’s going to be taking up most of his time leading up to the fight.”
“He’s fighting? Like a real fight?”
“Yeah, I guess. One of the pool Adams, but I don’t know who.”
Maggie’s eyes went wide and her hand covered her mouth. “My Lord, he’ll be killed.”
“It’s okay, Maggie,” said Rosie with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “there’s –”
“No! It’s not okay, Rosie. You don’t know what those fights are like. He’s so much smaller than the other Adams. It’s not fair! It’s not fair…” Whatever else Maggie said was lost into Rosie’s shoulder as the young woman gathered her friend in a tight embrace, ignoring the stares that resulted from Maggie’s outburst.
Rosie whispered soothing words while Maggie sobbed. When Maggie was mostly under control, Rosie raised her lips to her friend’s ear and whispered, “There’s more to Pip than you know. He’ll be fine — no doubt in my mind.”
“Really?” asked Maggie, leaning back to look into Rosie’s eyes. “You’re not just trying to make me feel better.”
“Well, I am trying to make you feel better, but I’m also being honest. Pip will be fine.”
Maggie sniffed, wiped her eyes again, and calmed her breathing. “Can you tell me about him?”
Rosie smiled, and recounted her unexpected visit with Pip, leaving out everything about the Effect, but otherwise giving a complete account.
“So you were with him for more than two bells, and all you did was kiss?” asked a stunned Maggie.
“No, he touched me all over,” said Rosie defensively.
“With or without clothes?” asked Maggie skeptically.
“With, but it was still great. I would have gone further, but he was so sweet, and… innocent. And honestly, I got distracted myself just touching him back. Then John came back and it was over.”
Maggie still didn’t look convinced, but let it go. “So do you love him?”
“Come on, Maggie. How am I supposed to answer that after meeting him one time?”
“Fine, but you obviously like him a lot.”
Rosie shrugged and smiled.
“And you’re not going to let me go instead of you next time…”
Rosie shook her head immediately.
Maggie paused, unsure how to proceed. “Could I come with you?”
Rosie’s eyes widened. “With me?”
“Yeah,” replied Maggie, but her eyes dropped to the floor, afraid to look her friend in the eyes. Working up her courage, she raised her gaze. “Rosie, I know I’m putting you in a terrible position, because I can tell how much you like him, but I have to know if he’s the one for me.”
Before Rosie could interrupt, Maggie hurried on, “I can be your Second, if that’s what you both want. I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Rosie was having trouble processing the request. If she was honest with herself, she could come to love Pip, but they’d just met. What if Maggie was better for him? The thought caused her chest to tighten, but what if it were true? Pip was special and he deserved the best, even if it wasn’t her.
“Okay,” said Rosie weakly. “We can go together.”
“Really?” whispered Maggie, who had been holding her breath. Rosie nodded and gave her best attempt at a smile.
“Thank you, Rosie!” Maggie almost shouted, wrapping the smaller girl in a heartfelt hug. Rosie squeezed her back, but had tears forming in her eyes. When Maggie ended the hug and pulled back, she saw the conflict. “Oh, Rosie — it’ll be okay — you’ll see,” she said, wiping an errant tear with her thumb.
Maggie gave Rosie her most convincing smile, placed her hands on Rosie’s cheeks, and gave her a kiss directly on the lips, catching the younger woman by surprise. “Trust me, Honey, it will work out. We’ll take really good care of him together.” Maggie gave her another smile, a parting squeeze on the shoulder, and walked out of the room.
A short time later, Ruth reappeared at Rosie’s side. “Are you alright, Honey?”
“Honestly, Ruth, I’m not sure. But can you tell me something?”
“Sure, Rosie, just ask.”
“What’s a Second?”
Chapter 7
“What do you think, Max?” John asked.
“No doubt that he’s fast: probably among the quickest I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure it’s going to be enough against Ranger.” The semi-retired Adam was standing next to Pip’s smaller handler, observing Pip as he sparred with a partner.
“Yeah, Ranger’s a tough draw for Pip,” responded John, “but then again, at that ranking all of them are scary as hell.”
“Then why don’t you seem concerned? Have some trick that you think will work?”
“No, not a trick, but Pip can move faster than he’s showing right now. Interested in seeing it?”
“Faster? I find that hard to believe, so yes, I would definitely be interested in seeing what you’re up to.”
John nodded and walked over to where the young Adams were engaged, getting their attention with a short shout. After thanking Pip’s partner, John dismissed him and returned with Pip.
“Pip, you know of Max, but I’m not sure you’ve ever met in person.”
“That’s right,” said Pip, shaking Max’s hand. “Good to meet you, sir. I’ve learned a lot from watching your training fights.”
“Glad to hear it, kid. John here tells me you were holding back while you were sparring just now. Is that right?”
Pip gave his handler a questioning look, to which John responded with a nod.
“Yes, sir, I can move a bit quicker. For practice, it’s better if I match my partner’s speed: it helps me to work on mechanics. Otherwise, I find too many openings.”
“That right?” asked Max rhetorically. “Sounds like a load of bravado bullshit to me.”
“Actually,” interjected John, “it will be much easier to see with a demonstration. Still game?”
“Sure. What’s the score?”
John quickly explained his idea, which consisted of having himself and Max stand about ten body lengths away from Pip, holding five fist sized rocks each. Pip would face them, holding a wooden staff as long as he was tall. When Pip gave the word, both Max and John would throw the rocks at Pip, as quickly as possible.
“So you want me to take it a little easy? Aim at his legs or something?” Max asked.
“Actually, no. I want you to throw the rocks as hard as you want, anywhere you want. Mix it up, if you like — it will give him more to think about.”
Max’s eyebrows raised as he walked to the agreed upon spot, knowing that he was easily capable of killing a man with one of the stones he now held. When he looked to the newest Adam, he saw only concentration and poise, without any evident fear.
“Ready?” called John. He and Max both pulled back their arms, ready to throw.
Five heartbeats later, Pip called, “Go!”
Two rocks were immediately on their way toward Pip, quickly followed by the rest. Upon giving his signal, Pip squeezed the Effect and time slowed. Knowing that John’s rocks would not have the same force as Max’s, he stepped laterally to John’s side, hoping to cause the latter’s rocks to miss as he moved.
Pip deflected John’s first rock, then the second, while Max’s first two sailed past. Back in real time, Max saw his target step and adjusted his aim accordingly; additionally, John had decided to aim lower on his third rock, roughly at hip height. Choosing the lesser of two sources of pain, Pip pivoted his bo and deflected Max’s rocks while absorbing John’s with his left thigh. Now facing Max, Pip stepped backward, allowing John’s final rocks to pass just in front of him, while easily deflecting Max’s last one.
Pip let time resume its normal pace, and staggered slightly, now fully feeling the impact of the rock on his thigh. “Ha! Got you,” said a clearly delighted John, walking toward Pip. “You okay?” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“Yeah, but it’s going to hurt to walk tomorrow.”
“No problem — just have your lady friend in blue give you some attention.”
Further banter was interrupted by Max, whose look indicated he was simultaneously astonished and pissed. “How the fuck did you do that?”
John turned to the huge Adam, “Actually, that’s something I was hoping you could help us with. I’m also hoping you can help train Pip, because I’m way over my head here. We’ve been trying this all morning, and that shot to the leg is the first time I’ve even gotten close to the slippery devil.”
“Listen, John — no one is that fast. I know. I was the best, and I fought the best. I’ve never seen anyone, Adam or man, move like that. Tell me what is going on.”
“I would be happy to, Max,” replied John, “but if I do, this stays between us. I mean completely between us. You don’t talk about it with Geo, or any of the other directors, unless I give you explicit permission. Can you live with that?”
Max stood up to his full, impressive height, and folded his massive arms. “I won’t help you cheat. Hidden enhancements, drugs, anything like that — totally a no-go for me. That ends with dead Adams during training and disqualifications during matches.”
“Not a problem: Pip’s totally clean. He’ll pass any inspection, right Pip?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright,” said Max after some time, “I’m in. What’s going on, and what specifically do you want from me?”
John smiled and began his explanation, going through all of the details. “The issue, Max, is that I don’t know where to go from here. You saw that I managed to hit Pip with a rock. In a real fight, it’s possible that even with this crazy advantage, Pip could still get caught, and given his size disadvantage that could be really bad. I need you to work out how to use this Effect to its fullest potential. What do you think?”
“Hmm…” considered Max, staring off into the distance above John’s head with his one good eye. “I’m getting some ideas, but to be honest, I don’t really know what is going to work. As far as I know, this is new. I think it’s going to be a bit of trial and error, but I am pretty confident we can make progress.
“Pip, I hope you understand why I was skeptical. Any issue with me being your personal trainer?”
“No, sir,” said Pip smiling, “I totally understand. If it wasn’t me this was happening to, I would have called bullshit, too.”
Max nodded. “Good. John, you’ll need to talk with Director Humbolt to get me reassigned to Pip.”
“Already done,” John replied. “Geo gave his go-ahead, pending your buy-in.”
“Really? I thought you said the director doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t, at least not really. He knows I think that there’s something special about Pip, and he’s willing to indulge me.”
“Fair enough. I don’t suppose you reserved a private training room?”
John smiled. “Only until the fight; after that, everyone’s going to know about Pip anyway.”
Later, lying in his bed, Pip couldn’t help but smile despite the pain in his leg. After all, workouts meant pain, and pain meant Rosie would be along shortly to take care of him. Pip was thinking back to their first encounter, with her laying on his chest and her face tucked into the side of his neck, when the knock came. “Come in,” he called.
The door opened and Rosie stepped into the room. “Hi, Pip,” she said, but didn’t look as excited to be in his room as he had come to expect.
“Hi, Rosie. Are you okay?”
“Of course,” she said, making a show of smiling. “It’s just that John told me you’d actually been hurt this time, so I… well, I thought I should bring someone with me that knows a bit more about how to fix you up. This is Maggie. She’s my roommate, and my best friend here.”
Maggie stepped into the room, having been waiting for her cue in the hallway. She tried to appear confident, but she was having a hard time keeping her composure. “Hi, Pip,” she said with a wave. “Nice to finally meet you.”
Pip propped himself up on his elbows, looking at his unexpected visitor. Same blue shirt and tan skirt, but different: fuller and darker. Very, very pretty. Pip realized he’d been staring again. “Hello. Nice to meet you. I’ve seen you around, haven’t I?”
Maggie nodded and looked down, finding herself blushing. When Pip looked back to Rosie, it appeared that her smile was forced. He scooted himself to the side of the bed and threw his legs over the side. “Thank you, Rosie, that’s very considerate, but I’m okay,” he said as he stood up. “I’m a little sore is all,” but as he took a step, his left thigh cramped and gave out, causing him to fall to the floor. If it wasn’t for his ability to slow time, he would have made a spectacle out of himself; as it was, it looked like he just decided to sit down.
Both of the women looked at him, startled, but when Rosie saw Pip’s embarrassed looked, she started giggling. The other two looked at her, taken aback, which made her laugh harder; soon she was sitting on the floor in front of Pip, having lost the ability to stand. Pip couldn’t help himself and joined her, while Maggie looked confused. “Are you two always like this?”
“It was… the look… on… his face,” Rosie gasped out, pointing at Pip, still laughing. “Did you… see it?”
Pip managed to stop laughing, folded his arms, and gave Rosie a look of mock indignation. Turning to Maggie, “Do you see what she thinks of me? Here I am, beat up, and she’s laughing at my pain. What kind of therapy is that?”
Rosie got herself under control, mostly, and crawled over to Pip. “Did I hurt your feelings, my big, strong Adam?”
Pip smiled and pulled Rosie onto his lap, causing her to squeal in surprise. “I think I’ll get over it.” He kissed her, enjoying the way she relaxed in his arms.
Maggie cleared her throat, reminding the couple that she was still there. “Should I… should I go, Rosie?”
Rosie felt awful, having entirely forgotten that her friend was there. “No, please don’t. I’m sorry, Maggie — I just got carried away. Help me pull this crybaby to his feet and we’ll get him back in bed.” Given that Pip was so much bigger than his two helpers, this turned out to be easier said than done. Eventually, with laughter and some cursing, Pip was back in bed, lying on his pillow.
“So, maybe a little therapy is actually a good idea,” said Pip, having realized during their efforts that he really couldn’t put much weight at all on his left leg. “What should we do?” Rosie looked to Maggie, hoping the older girl had some idea. Maggie and Pip discussed the injury, and then she disappeared out the door, returning quickly, her hands full.
Handing Pip the water from his bedside table, she said, “Take these pills — they won’t do much right now, but will help you feel better tomorrow. Now, I’m going to need you to take off your pants.”
“What?” exclaimed Pip and Rosie simultaneously.
“We can’t do a lot for a bruise, but we can try to take away some of the pain. I have a chemical pack here that will cool the area down, and then we can think about putting on this salve — it will keep you numb for a while so that you can sleep.”
Pip didn’t make a move to obey. “Look, Pip, Rosie and I are professionals — mostly. This is what we do, so take off your pants and let us help you. Or, if you prefer, we can take your pants off for you…” she said with a suggestive eyebrow raise.
“No, no,” he quickly replied, “I can do it.” Like the incident on the floor, it actually did take some help for Pip to remove his pants.
“Holy shit, Pip — that looks terrible. No wonder you fell over,” said Rosie, her eyes wide. “That bruise is as big as a dinner plate.”
“Eh,” shrugged Pip, “I’ve had worse. I’ll be sore for a few days, but shouldn’t have any trouble being ready for the fight.”
Rosie didn’t look convinced as Maggie prepared the chemical pack, but stayed silent and watched as the preparations got underway. When Maggie was ready, she moved up the bed and held the pack near Pip’s leg. “Rosie, I need you to distract Pip — this is going to hurt quite a bit.” Rosie looked at her friend, not sure why it looked like there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth; furthermore, Rosie didn’t have any idea what ‘distract Pip’ meant until Maggie mouthed ‘kiss him’.
Oblivious, Pip was surprised when a smiling Rosie leaned over him and placed her lips on his. A moment later, pain shot through his leg as Maggie applied the cold plastic. When his mouth opened in a surprised groan, Rosie took advantage and deepened their kiss.
Maggie had applied a little more pressure than was strictly necessary. She continued to push, only easing off when Pip forced himself to relax. When the tension finally left his leg, Maggie began to run her free hand up and down his knee. The contrast of the deep ache with the gentle touching caused Pip to moan again. Rosie was thoroughly enjoying herself, exploring Pip’s mouth with her lips and his upper chest with her hand.
On Pip’s lower half, Maggie gradually became more bold, moving her hand up to his thigh, lightly tracing the outer edge of the bruise. The combination of sensations was something unlike Pip had felt, and he reacted strongly, arching his back slightly while repeatedly tightening and then loosening the muscles in his leg. Even more obvious was the swelling beneath Pip’s underwear.
Not wanting Rosie to miss out, she tried to grab her friend’s hand, but Pip was so tall that she couldn’t reach; instead, she moved Rosie’s foot to the front of his shorts and rubbed it back and forth, causing Rosie and Pip to moan into each others’ mouths. Once Rosie had taken back control and established a rhythm with her foot, Maggie moved her hand back down to Pip’s leg and resumed her increasingly intimate rubbing.
Soon Maggie’s hand was disappearing up the leg of Pip’s shorts, teasing whatever she could reach. Rosie looked to be enjoying herself as well with Pip firmly kneading her bottom. Pip himself was making a continuous rumble deep in his chest, supplemented with regular groans at shortening intervals. All at once, Pip’s entire body flexed and he let out a long, low growl.
When he relaxed this time, Rosie finally broke their kiss. “My Lord,” he exhaled. “That was something else. Who takes care of me after the blue shirts?” he asked rhetorically, for which he received simultaneous slaps on his inner thigh and ribs. “Hey!”
Rosie snuggled into him. “That was wonderful, Pip, thank you.”
Maggie climbed up and settled herself onto his other shoulder. “Yes, Pip — thank you.”
Pip smiled. “I really don’t know what you’re both thanking me for, but you’re very welcome.” Replaying it in his head, Pip realized he’d enjoyed the entire visit, not just the therapy portion. “Rosie… Maggie? Is this a one time thing, or do you think you would both visit me again?”
“Really?” asked an excited Maggie. “You would let me come back? What about you, Rosie — can I come back with you?”
Rosie continued to snuggle into Pip, eyes closed, looking totally content. “Absolutely. I think we make a good team.”
“I agree,” stated Pip.
Maggie let out an excited squeal and moved up to Pip, kissing him fiercely. Pip was surprised, but enthusiastically returned the kiss, enjoying the difference in style and approach from Rosie. Maggie was the one to break the kiss, smiling down at him. She then bent to Rosie, cupped her cheek, and kissed her friend with the same intensity she had just shown to Pip. Rosie was more surprised than Pip had been, but soon reciprocated.
Pip couldn’t exactly see what was going on, but knowing what they were doing was threatening to overload his brain.
“Thank you, Rosie — I really will be the best Second to you,” said Maggie, a happy tear running down her cheek.
“I know,” said Rosie as she wiped away the tear with her finger and then brought it to her mouth. “He’s not going to know what to do with us,” she concluded, grinning wickedly.
“Damn straight,” said Maggie.
“Wait, what’s a Second?”
Chapter 8
“Do you think he’s ready, John?” Director Humbolt asked.
“I’m pretty confident, and I think he is, too. Bringing in Max for training really helped, so thanks again for supporting me on that. I thought Pip’s form was already good, but it’s better now, and he’s picked up some of Max’s killer instinct.”
Humbolt nodded. “You know, this is really a lose-lose for me; if Pip is successful, I’ll lose Ranger, and he’s my number four Adam. On the other hand, if Pip gets waxed, we may lose something really special, at least if your hunch is correct.”
“I know, Geo, and I’m sorry for it, but it’s the nature of the program.”
“Don’t I know it. Maybe someday we’ll figure out a better way to train…”
“Excuse me, Director Humbolt, but why put up your number four if you’re reasonably sure Pip will be successful? Wouldn’t it be better to… sacrifice — sorry for the poor word choice, but I can’t come up with something better — anyway, why sacrifice such a promising Adam?” asked Director Collins, who was sitting with the two men.
“This is going to sound heartless, but Ranger isn’t actually that promising for the overall program. He’s older than most of the pool Adams and slowly declining; he’s never going to have a real fight unless we have several significant setbacks in a row.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“Well, Ranger is extremely talented, as you would expect, but he tends to lose his head a bit when he fights. With some of the craftier Adams he has a tendency to get tricked into bad positions. You know that big scar on his side?” Director Collins nodded. “He had several ribs broken in a training fight because he tried some overly aggressive bullshit. His opponent — it was Max, actually — caught him with a roundhouse kick. Doc had to cut Ranger open to piece all the fragments back together.
“That said, he’s still damn scary — Pip will have to be in top form to win.”
“Even if Pip does win, what are the chances he comes through this in one piece?” asked Director Collins.
John considered the question. “Honestly — and I know this is going to sound conceited — I think Pip is going to be fine. He doesn’t have the size or reach of Ranger, or any of the other pool Adams for that matter, but you’ve seen the way he moves. I wouldn’t be surprised at all of Pip is representing us in the Arena by the end of next year.”
Humbolt shook his head, dismissing the idea, while Collins looked quite surprised. “Wait a moment, John, you said –”
John forestalled her objection with an extended hand. “I know, Director Collins, you want him for your publicity machine. I didn’t say that him fighting for real would happen — just that I wouldn’t be surprised. After today, when people see what he can do, I don’t think either of us are going to have much of a choice if larger circumstances dictate that he needs to fight.” Director Collins was not pleased with this statement, and sat back in her chair, considering the impact to her plans. “Anyway, that’s all academic at this point. He still has to get through today,” concluded John.
“Look, they’re coming out now,” observed Humbolt. “By the way, John, why aren’t you out there with him? You’re his handler.”
“Yeah, but Max knows a hell of a lot more than I do; he seemed like a better choice.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” said Humbolt. “Ranger doesn’t seem too pleased.” Pip’s opponent looked absolutely livid. He was already breathing hard while his own handler tried to give him final instructions. “I don’t suppose you already knew that Ranger had a personal issue with Max…” John shrugged and smirked, confirming the suspicion.
Director Collins looked at John, her already high esteem for him increasing. “I knew you were a good handler, but you had this planned from the beginning when you asked for Max, didn’t you?” John didn’t answer, but he did look very pleased with himself. “I don’t know if it’s brilliant, but it is damn sneaky — I fully approve,” she finished with a smile. “Let’s see if your plan works.”
“To be clear,” said John, “my plan is based wholly on Pip’s abilities as a fighter. I was just supplementing his advantage.”
“Uh huh, whatever,” Director Collins replied, smiling.
In the practice arena, Max and Ranger’s handler were stepping out of the sand, joining the ring of observers. Ranger had calmed down some, but still looked like he was ready to charge; Pip was focusing intently on his opponent. For the first time, John saw something beyond cold professionalism in Pip — it looked like he actually wanted to kill the Adam across the arena.
The first ring sounded and the two Adams closed on each other, Ranger approaching quickly, but in a controlled manner. Pip allowed time to move normally, saving his strength for the few heartbeats it took Ranger to come within striking distance, then squeezed the Effect.
Ranger had rolled his shoulder, making it look like he was going to throw his right hand, but instead shot forward a short left jab. Had time not been moving slowly, it may have caught Pip off-guard, not particularly hurting him, but giving Ranger the upper hand. Instead, Pip stepped right, caught Ranger’s wrist in his left hand, and yanked it upward in a single motion. By the time Pip’s right foot touched the ground, he was already in the midst of a straight overhand right with the full power of his shoulder, chest, back, and leg behind it.
Pip’s fist connected with his target, below and slightly in front of Ranger’s left armpit, with dramatic effect. Pip felt ribs break and move inward, even as his own second and third fingers cracked, to be followed by the duller sensation of muscle giving way — almost certainly the lung and heart.
Time resumed its standard progression and Ranger dropped to the ground, already dead. Pip stood over the body, his adrenaline still spooling up due to the shortness of the fight. The second ring sounded and the medical staff rushed into the arena, but as with Pip’s previous fight, there was no need. Pip walked back to his starting point without a backward glance at his opponent, receiving a stoic nod from Max for a job well done.
John walked up soon afterward with Directors Humbolt and Collins trailing behind. “Alright, Pip?”
Pip had to take a deep breath before speaking, still trying to get control of residual energy. “Yeah, thanks. I’m pretty sure I broke my hand, but not badly — probably just cracked a finger or something.”
“Glad to hear it,” said his handler. “Want me to send for Doc, or would you prefer your friends in blue?”
“Just Doc tonight, John — I’m not going to be very good company,” replied Pip, heading to his room.
After he had disappeared from sight, Director Collins turned to John. “What’s wrong with him? I would have expected he’d be thrilled to win so easily.”
“I think that’s just it, Director,” said John, “it shouldn’t have been that easy. The truth is, Ranger never really stood a chance, and I think that bothers Pip.”
“So he’d rather it have been closer?”
“No, but Pip’s inherently a good guy. That probably felt a bit like being the playground bully. He’ll get used to it, but it will take some time.”
John took a deep breath and looked at his companions for the fight. “Directors — thank you for joining me, and for supporting Pip. It means a lot to him, although that might not be obvious. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’m going to go find Doc and have him check Pip’s hand.”
As he expected, John found Dr. Shepard in Surgery-One, examining Ranger. “Same thing as last time, Doc?”
“What? Oh, hello, Mr. Rogers. Not quite, actually.” John raised an eyebrow, indicating his surprise. “The force was so hard this time that the heart actually exploded; the walls were blown out in all four chambers. I don’t think you could do more damage than this if you jumped on a heart lying on the floor.”
“Huh. Well, as lovely as that picture is, I was hoping you’d head over and see Pip — he said he thinks his hand is broken.”
“Not really that surprising given the forces involved. When you think about the thickness of a finger bone compared to a rib, it’s entirely possible he has multiple fractures. I’ll go there straightaway.”
“Thanks, Doc. I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind — I would appreciate the opportunity to pick your brain.”
“Of course,” said the doctor as he gathered his field bag and walked with John out the door. “What is on your mind?”
“Actually, that’s not too far off — the mind, I mean. Have you seen anything different in any of Pip’s scans? I was thinking that there might be something that could explain the way he seems to move faster than everyone else.”
“No, I don’t think so, but I generally look for big issues such as malformations, signs of trauma, and the like. I can go back over them and look for smaller differences — would that help?”
“Thanks, Doc, that’s exactly what I was hoping for. If you do find something, please talk with me first.”
The doctor smiled at John’s overprotectiveness. “Of course. Is there something in particular that I should be looking to find?”
“Not exactly,” said John, hesitating slightly. “I suspect that Pip processes information faster — maybe much faster — than the rest of us, but I don’t know what that would look like on a scan.”
Nodding, Dr. Shepard said, “That’s alright. A few possibilities come immediately to mind that should be relatively easy to check. I’ll come see you in a few days with the results. Is that acceptable?”
“Perfect, Doc.”
The two finished their walk in silence, arriving at Pip’s room a short time later. John knocked and stepped inside, seeing that Pip was lying on his bed, still in his fighting clothes, right arm propped on a pillow. “Ready to see Doc?” Pip nodded, briefly making eye contact, and then went back to staring at the ceiling.
“All yours, Doc — see you around.”
This task done, John went in search of Madame Bower.
Before the next bell sounded, Ruth was walking quickly down a different hallway in the area of the Adams’ dormitories with one of her most experienced ladies. Knocking gently on the door she sought, she slowly opened it a crack, waiting. A short while later, a slightly disheveled Maggie opened it further and looked out. Seeing her supervisor, Maggie was somewhat taken aback. “Is Pip okay?” she whispered, more loudly than she intended.
“He’s fine, Honey, but he does need some cheering up.” Maggie smiled hungrily, but Ruth shook her head. “Not that kind. He’s a bit shaken and needs some company. Hold his hand, rub his forehead — that kind of thing.
“If you can break away, Jules here can take over for you.”
“Okay — that should be fine — we were just getting started.”
Maggie soon emerged, having made her excuses to the Adam inside; she hugged her substitute and walked back down the hall with Ruth.
“You’ll need to find Rosie — she isn’t on rounds and I’m not sure where to find her, but she should definitely go with you.”
“No problem,” said Maggie smiling. “Whenever she’s feeling stressed, Rosie likes to go to the showers — I think it helps her deal with the trauma from before she got here. I know she was a little nervous about today’s fight, even if she said she wasn’t. If I wasn’t on rounds, I would have stayed with her.”
“That’s fine, just get over to Pip’s room as quickly as you can. So you know, he didn’t ask for you — the opposite, actually. You may need to take a firm hand.” Maggie’s hungry smile was back. “I was speaking metaphorically, you little minx. Go get Rosie.” Maggie giggled as she jogged off down the hall, her skirt swishing wildly, quickly disappearing around the next corner.
The reunion in the shower was brief. When Rosie saw her friend, she quickly hopped to her feet, turned off the water, and ran over, skidding slightly in her rush to see what was wrong. “He’s okay, Rosie,” Maggie soothed, “just banged up a little. Let’s go see him.”
Rosie hurriedly dried off and was soon standing next to Maggie outside Pip’s door, hair still dripping slightly. “What do I do?” she asked.
Maggie shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure: comfort him, give him what he needs. I’ve seen you with him the last several days — you get him — just follow your instincts.”
Rosie was unconvinced. “That sounds awfully cliche — I thought a Second was supposed to give helpful advice.”
Maggie considered for a moment. “How about: don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Hm, that is better. Thanks, Mags.”
“No problem — that’s what I’m here for,” she replied cheerfully.
Steeling her nerve, Rosie knocked on the door. When no response came, she knocked again, harder. When the silence lingered, she gave Maggie an unimpressed look and opened the door, her annoyance overcoming her anxiety.
Pip was lying on the bed, his arm elevated and hand wrapped; otherwise, he looked fine physically. Emotionally, he looked drained, and when he saw who it was, his head dropped back onto his pillow. “Dammit, Rosie — did John tell you to come? I told him I didn’t want company tonight.” Pip sighed. “You might as well come in, too, Maggie — no sense standing in the hall.”
“Hi, Pip,” she said happily, bounding into the room animatedly.
Rosie still had her arms folded, giving him a stern look. “Not even going to invite us in, huh?” she said.
Pip took his time replying. “Ladies, you know how much I care about you. Please go away.”
Rosie didn’t even hesitate. “Sorry, can’t. My Second told me not to take ‘no’ for an answer, and I have to do what she says.”
Pip raised his head again, looking from Rosie to Maggie.
“Yep,” Maggie said with enthusiasm, “them’s the rules.”
“Why would you tell her that, Maggie? Surely you know I want to be left alone tonight.”
“Because I have to do what’s best for my Adam, right Rosie?”
“Yep,” Rosie replied, still acting stern. “Them’s the rules.”
Pip groaned and let his head drop again. “You two can be infuriating. It’s like you rehearse things just to torment me.”
“Who says we don’t?” challenged Maggie.
“You see?” he asked the room. “What am I supposed to do with them?”
“Easy, Pip,” replied Rosie, softening her voice. “Let us take care of you.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope,” the women chorused.
“Oh, good — so long as we’re clear,” he said sarcastically, still looking at the ceiling.
“Shut the door, Maggie. I think we need to give our Adam a little attention.” Without waiting for her instruction to be carried out, Rosie shucked her shirt and dropped her skirt. Now wearing only her underclothes, she climbed carefully onto the bed, and then up onto Pip’s chest, settling her head against his right shoulder, careful not to bump his hand. Moments later Maggie joined them, head on Pip’s left shoulder. “Is this really that bad?”
“No, of course it’s not. You both know how much I enjoy being with you, but I killed an Adam today. That’s enough to make me a little… morose. But to know that Ranger never really had a chance — that’s what is eating at me.”
“Was it a fair fight?” Maggie asked softly, all traces of the bubbly happiness gone.
“More or less. I didn’t cheat, if that’s what you mean.”
“Would he have killed you if he could have?”
“Ha!” he snorted. “He certainly wanted to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody that mad.”
“Then let it go, Pip. This is who you are — what you are. Your whole purpose is to be your very best. Anything less than that is going to get you killed, and I don’t think Rosie or I could take that.”
The three were quiet for a long while. Rosie enjoyed feeling Pip’s enormous chest rise and fall; Maggie was slowly drifting to sleep listening to the bass beat of his heart.
“Thank you, Rosie, for not going away.”
“Of course, Pip. I’ll always be here for you.”
“And thank you, too, Maggie, for making her stay.”
“No problem, Pip — that’s what a Second is for,” she said sleepily.
“Okay, now, seriously,” he said rising up on his elbows, displacing both women. “You two might not leave when I tell you, but one of you better tell me what this Second business is all about, and I mean right now. The last time I asked you both giggled and avoided answering, but if it’s going to keep me from throwing you out of my room, I want to know what’s going on.”
“Go ahead, Rosie — you explain it to him,” said Maggie, scooting down and putting her head on Pip’s thigh. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a moment.”
Now sitting, Rosie smiled at Maggie, not sure if she was putting on another show. “Alright, Pip. It’s actually not that complicated.
“You know that sometimes an Adam clicks with somebody, right?”
“Like us?” he asked.
“Good boy,” said Rosie, beaming. “Well, when that… attraction? Yeah, that’ll work — when that attraction is strong enough, that person can register as the Adam’s First. This is usually one of the PETs because our job is to be around the Adams. In these cases, she still does rounds, taking care of other Adams, but her primary responsibility is to her Adam. Following so far?” Pip nodded. “Good. The reason they allow this, even encourage it, is they’ve found that Adams perform better when they have someone for whom they’re fighting. Still make sense?”
“Sure, but what does this have to do with a Second?”
“Well, it’s even rarer, but sometimes a second PET, or whoever, feels the same way about the Adam, and he about her.” Pip reached down and stroked Maggie’s hair, who purred in response.
“The issue is that women can be catty, for lack of a better word, so there has to be one PET primarily responsible for the Adam’s welfare. The second PET becomes the Second — her role is to make sure that the first is living up to expectations, and help any way she can. This could be anything, and includes giving advice, like Maggie did earlier.”
“I see… sorta,” Pip said. “Thanks for clarifying it for me. But Rosie, how do we make this thing we have official? How do you become my PET?”
“Oh, Honey,” said Rosie smiling, “I did it right after the first time Maggie joined us. Ruth could see it in me as soon as I walked back into the Lounge.”
“And Maggie?”
“Yep, she’s official, too. We’re all yours.”
“So you don’t need my permission, or whatever?” asked Pip.
“Not really,” answered Rosie. “From the way you looked at me, and held me, I knew you felt it, too.”
“But what if I wanted to meet some of the other PETs?”
“Do you?” challenged Rosie, still smiling.
“Well, no — but I might have.”
“Sure, Pip,” she said, patting his cheek. “Sure you could have.”
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Uh huh. You in the mood for a kiss yet?” Pip groaned again and flopped backward. Rosie, undeterred, climbed up his torso and began planting kisses on his neck, working slowly toward his mouth. They were soon sharing gentle, loving kisses. Still lying on his thigh, half forgotten, Maggie started to gently, rhythmically squeeze Pip through his pants. Pip groaned into Rosie’s mouth, luxuriating in the sensation.
The trio continued until Maggie actually did fall asleep, making Rosie and Pip giggle with her soft snoring. Settling onto his chest, Rosie reached up and played with his hair until she, too, drifted off to sleep. For Pip, sleep didn’t come as easily, but he was no longer melancholy; rather, he was feeling particularly fortunate that the two women had become an apparently permanent part of his life.
Chapter 9
“So, Doc, did you find anything on the scans?”
“Huh? Oh, hello again, Mr. Rogers. To be honest, I’m a little reluctant to say. I did find an anomaly, but haven’t been able to confirm it yet. I was hoping to do so after today’s Council meeting.”
“Actually, Doc, that’s why I stopped by early: I would like to have an answer in case the topic comes up. It doesn’t have to be definitive, but I’ve found that it always helps to have a plausible explanation in my back pocket.”
“As you like. Would you like the detailed explanation, or the layman’s version?”
“Simple is fine for now — I’ll get the details later,” said John with a trace of sarcasm, which was entirely lost on the doctor.
“In the simplest terms, we can measure electrical pulses in the brain. The quantity of these pulses in Pip’s brain is larger than typical.”
When the doctor didn’t say anything else, John prompted him, “That’s it?”
“Yes, but that is quite something. More pulses may mean that he perceives events more quickly; it could certainly explain his improved reaction time, although it is only a hypothesis at this point.”
“Okay, I guess that makes sense to me. How many more pulses are we talking, Doc?”
“That would be very hard to say. An educated guess would be a one or two percent improvement over Adam standard, which is already significantly better than a typical man.”
“Huh,” grunted John, disappointed. “Any idea what causes it?”
“Unfortunately not. It’s not likely to be a brain chemistry effect; more likely it is something structural, but without physically examining the brain itself, I won’t be able to say with certainty.”
“Alright, Doc, thanks. If some of this comes up at the Council, will it put you in a bad position?”
The doctor thought about it and then shook his head, “Not likely.”
“Thanks again, Doc — see you there.”
Walking out the door he motioned to Max, and the two walked toward John’s office. “What did he say?”
“Pip’s brain is more active than normal; Doc thinks that could account for a couple percent improvement, but that certainly doesn’t explain the entire Effect.”
“Agreed. Nothing else then?”
“He also said it’s probably structural. My interpretation is that means genetic, rather than environmental. In other words, it was something the R&D guys did round about nineteen batches ago, but I doubt it was intentional — probably a side effect of their experimentation.”
“Do you think it has something to do with Pip’s size?”
John paused before he replied. “If I had to guess, I would say ‘yes,’ the two are related, but who knows? The real question is how much to share with the Council.”
“You’re still planning on hiding this, then?”
“Not hiding, but definitely being circumspect for now, at least in front of the full Council.”
“What are you afraid they’ll do?”
“For starters,” replied John, “cut Pip into pieces to see what exactly is different. From a program perspective, we’ve been moderately successful in recent matches, so we don’t need to make huge strides. It might be the prudent path to risk Pip the individual to replicate results for the next generation.”
“I’ll agree that the Council doesn’t care about individual Adams, but you think they would give up such a short-term advantage? I’m not convinced. My four consecutive wins increased the area of Rieckenburg by ten percent; with Pip’s abilities, we could be looking at expansion beyond what’s been seen in the last four or five decades.”
“Maybe you’re right. Tell me, Max — is it wrong that I’m hoping that the Council are more greedy than they are patient?”
“Not wrong necessarily, but perhaps a bit unconventional. So what’s your plan? You always seem to have one.”
John shrugged. “I have a couple ideas, but I won’t really know until I see which way the discussion goes. I just hope Pip has other friends in the room.”
John’s concern for Pip’s immediate future, it turned out, was largely unnecessary. Discussion in the Council meeting focused on Dr. Shepard’s autopsy report, the repeated killing strike, and not at all on Pip himself. Director Jacobs talked about a research project on how to increase bone strength, while Director Richards argued for a research study to pinpoint as many fatal strike points as possible; both proposals were accepted without serious opposition, although each had been tried before.
As the Council meeting was dismissed, John’s retreat was halted when the Executive Director called out to him. “Mr. Rogers, stay and talk with me for a moment.”
When the room cleared, John sat down at the Executive Director’s right hand. “Hello, John. How have you been?”
The Executive Director would have been an imposing figure to nearly anybody, being only two fingers shorter than John, but he had known her for his entire life, so it was only her intellect that actually intimidated him. “Good, Cass, thank you. How is life at the head of the table?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. “Everything you hoped?”
She smiled ruefully. “It is what I expected, and that is enough. What do you think of our two new paths of study?”
Familiar as he was with her, John had the sense to remain guarded. “Truth be told, I don’t think either will yield positive results.”
“Nor I. Do you know why we will proceed regardless?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Because they might. Small advantages are so crucial in matches now, we must look under every stone, even if we have done so before.
“John, consider the four foremost world powers: ourselves, Northumberland, Gracia, and Marbelo; over the last decade, do you know the actual win percentages for matches among these four cities?” John shook his head.
“Northumberland is best, winning fifty-two percent of matches; Marbelo is worst, winning forty-seven percent of their matches. Against the rest of the world, our four cities win more than eighty percent of the time. What does this say to you?”
John, unsure of the point to which she was building, opted to stay silent.
“It means that there is, practically speaking, no difference between us and our closest antagonists. For any given match, we expect the chance of victory to be equivalent to the chance of defeat. Consequently, there are only little changes: borders swap back and forth so often that the impacted people hold no particular allegiance. Meanwhile, trade amongst the four languishes due to lack of trust, so that each of us lack adequate food and water, medicine is scarce, and most of the population grows up uneducated.
“Now I want you to imagine one of those nations with a decisive advantage. Think of what could happen if one power could rise up above the others. You know that a better standard is possible for the world; this is evident when one walks around the Complex. We simply do not have the means to feed, clothe, and care for almost one hundred thousand people, but if we had the resources of the surrounding area, this would be much more achievable.”
John was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the Executive Director continued her soliloquy, starting to get a sense of where she was going. When she wound down, he tentatively ventured, “Yes, I can see how circumstances are frustrating for one in your position.”
“I expect so,” she returned. “I also expect that you will do anything in your power to improve the lives of so many. Am I correct?”
Sensing a trap, John deferred. “What can I do?”
“You can start by telling me about your charge.”
John willed himself to stay calm, surreptitiously slowing his breathing to maintain his heart’s current cadence. “Of course, what would you like to know?”
“John, I have known you since you were born, so don’t act dense. I know that Pip is different, but not how or why.”
He paused, weighing his options. “How much do you already know?” She gave him a warning look, so he quickly added, “It’s just that I don’t want to waste your time on details that you are already familiar with.”
“I have nothing more important to do than this, John.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and started recounting what he knew about Pip. He started with his observation from the fight with Hammer, provided overviews of his conversations with Directors Humbolt and Collins, the training with Max, and also his own conclusions from the fight with Ranger. He went on to describe his most recent conversation with Dr. Shepard, but specifically did not mention anything about Pip’s altered perception of time. “There are more details, of course, but that’s most of it.”
The Executive Director was quiet for some time. “You did excellent work, John. I doubt other handlers would have identified Pip’s promise from that first fight, and I am certain that none would have risked their charges as you did. Do you personally think this increase in ability is genetic?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“If that is the case, it should be possible to create more like him. Do you agree?”
John considered before replying, “In theory, yes, but I’m not sure it will actually happen. My hesitation is because Pip wasn’t meant to be different, or so I’m told, and the doctors in R&D still haven’t managed to explain why. If I had to, I would guess that something happened prior to fertilization, but I couldn’t tell you what.”
The Executive Director stared at him emotionlessly, waiting for him to continue. John, having told her his honest opinion, stared back. “Very well,” she said at last. “I will have Director Jacobs reexamine the files surrounding the fertilization. Thank you for your time, John.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” John said before leaving the room. Back in the hallway, he found Max, once again waiting for him.
“Did you crack?”
“Like an egg,” John replied, feeling quite exhausted, “but I held a little back. What’s more, I think I managed to convince her that Pip is unique; that should keep anyone from getting any ideas about experimenting on him.”
“Hmm. So what now?”
“Keep doing what you’re doing, just tone it back some. I have a strong sense that Pip’s going to see the Arena — big ‘A’ — before too long, but we will have some notice. Keep pushing, but don’t burn him out.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Yeah, that’ll be the day.”
Shortly thereafter, John was standing outside Director Collins’ office door. After knocking, he was quickly invited into the room for their prearranged meeting. “So you survived the interrogation — how bad is it?”
John, who hadn’t yet made it to a chair, stopped mid-stride. “Well… it could have been worse.”
“That’s not particularly encouraging. Did she change our plans?”
“You mean, did she veto using Pip as your poster child? No — it didn’t come up, actually; but I did tell her most of what we know, excluding the whole time thing.”
“Really?” Lilith asked, surprised. “How did you manage that? Any time she stares me down, I sing like a songbird.”
John finally reached his chair. “I tell her the truth, just not all of it. Besides, I’ve known her always, so she’s not quite so scary to me.”
“Yeah, so tell me about that — why do you know her?”
John replied casually, “It’s not really that complicated. There aren’t that many of us that had Adams for fathers. Her majesty is about five years older than me, and looked out for me when I was growing up.”
“Okay, but what’s with the ‘her majesty’ thing, and also, how much looking out for did you really need? You had to be the biggest in your class by a lot.”
John sat back, surprised at the personal nature of the questions. “Okay. Let’s start with the second question.
“You’re right, of course, that nobody really intimidated me physically, but kids are observant, and I didn’t look like the others. I don’t know that it was anything intentional, and I did have some friends, but I felt like an outsider growing up. Cass helped me to come to terms with that over time; sometimes it was listening, or giving advice, pretty much like a big sister.”
“Cass?”
John shrugged off her interruption and kept going. “As for the first question, I’ve called her that for a long time. In the same way she took being an honorary big sister seriously, I did my best to annoy the hell out of her. It was always obvious she would go far, so somewhere in my early teens I started calling her that. Sometimes it just comes out now when I’m not thinking about it. For what it’s worth, that probably means I trust you,” John finished with a self-conscious grin.
Lilith was actually touched. “Thanks, John — that means quite a lot to me, especially since we haven’t really known each other for very long.”
The two looked at each other, grins breaking out on their faces. John found himself staring at her pink lips, wondering if she colored them, or if that was their natural tone; against her pale skin, they were striking. Moving his gaze up to her eyes, he was drawn into their depth, the deep gray shade reminding him of an approaching thunderhead. His smile increased, thinking that ‘stormy’ fit her personality well.
“What?” she asked self-consciously, her smile faltering.
John shook his head, still smiling. “Sorry, got lost there for a moment.” Lilith cocked an eyebrow, but John decided to pretend he didn’t notice. “So… any concerns about moving forward with your plan?”
Lilith didn’t look convinced, but also decided to let it go. “Actually, no. The Council meeting couldn’t have gone better for us, or for Pip. They’re so focused on what this means for the program that they’re going to leave him alone.”
“Well,” interjected John, “that’s not entirely correct. The Council doesn’t care, but the Executive Director does, and I think she sees Pip as a key piece of her plans.”
“Fuck,” Lilith exhaled.
“Yeah, not ideal.”
“She’ll put him in real matches?”
“Almost certainly, if I understood her right.” Before Lilith could get too excited, he continued, “But I told you this would happen, or at least that it probably would. This might move up the timetable, but maybe not much else. For now, Pip will keep training with Max, and you’ll have him for your purposes, as well.”
Lilith sat back, crossed her arms, and partially closed her eyes, deep in thought. Eventually, she nodded, mostly to herself, “We can make this work. I don’t think I ever really thought Pip would fight in the Arena, but it will give him a chance to become a real life superhero. Do you think it would be just once?”
John shook his head sadly. “Not unless he is so beat up he can’t stay in the program, like Max. Given Pip’s size, I don’t think that’s very likely. If he gets hit hard enough to do that, he’s probably not going to survive.”
“So what happens then? He’ll fight until he dies?”
John shrugged. “That’s generally the idea. Keep in mind, though, that our Adam is a little different — he may have a really long run, and that’s why her majesty is so keen on him.”
“Well… shit,” Lilith said, frustrated. “I guess we’ll need to build him up quickly then. How much of his time can I have?”
John gave his characteristic shrug. “I’m leaving his training from this point on up to Max; talk with him, then talk with Pip. As long as your demands are reasonable,” Lilith glared at him, “it should be fine.”
“John, I’m going to make Pip the most famous person in the city. I know you’re not entirely convinced, but this will be really good for him: it will give him something besides his pending death to think about. You told me earlier about feeling isolated from your peers; I would imagine Pip feels the same. He’s not a regular man, and yet he doesn’t look entirely like an Adam. Think what improving his self image will do for his confidence — he’ll walk into every fight knowing that he’s the best.”
“Point taken, Lilith, but don’t go too far. Pip needs to maintain adequate respect for his opponents, or he’ll get caught off-guard.”
“I thought that was Max’s job,” Lilith quipped.
Outmaneuvered, John gaped at her for a moment, then grinned. “So it is.”
“John, tell me you’ll support me in this and not just give lip service,” Lilith said seriously. “Pip trusts you more than anyone, as he should, and this won’t work if he’s not fully on board.”
John’s first instinct was to immediately confirm his support, but he decided to thoroughly think through the implications. Reaching a decision, he looked back to Lilith, who might have been holding her breath. “I will support you, but you need to give Pip some control. Talk with him about your ideas, and listen to his. If you make him a partner, he’ll get behind it — he’s a sharp kid, and I think he’s entirely capable of seeing the bigger picture that you can paint.”
Lilith nodded, “Deal.”
Chapter 10
“Hello, Director Collins.”
“Good morning, Pip. Excited to be here?”
“Yes, ma’am — I’ve been looking forward to getting started.”
Lilith looked up at him skeptically.
“John and I had a long talk after you stopped by yesterday, and I think this could be fun. I’m still not entirely convinced I’m the best choice, but you’re the expert,” said Pip smiling. “I promise I’ll do my best to be whatever you need.”
Lilith was pleasantly surprised and nodded. “I tell you what, Pip — you just be you, and the rest will work itself out, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. So what are we doing today?”
“Today is actually pretty straightforward. We need some publicity photos, introduction videos, and the like. I have a team through that door,” she said, pointing to the entrance of the dressing suite, “that will figure out how to polish up your look and get you prepped. I’ll warn you now that today is going to be a long day; I hope you’re ready for it.”
“I guess we’ll see, ma’am,” said Pip.
Much later, Pip walked wearily into his room, kicking off his shoes as he passed the threshold, and fell face down onto his mattress. Just as he started to drift off, a knock at the door roused him.
Rosie entered the room, shutting the door behind her. “Hi, Pip. You look worn out.” Pip’s reply was lost in his pillow, seeing as how he hadn’t bothered to lift his head. “Poor little Adam,” cooed Rosie as she climbed onto the bed and started rubbing his back. “Was Lilith mean to you?”
Pip rolled over, careful not to squash his lovely therapist. “I had no idea I could be this tired. She was harder on me than Max or John have ever been.” Rosie gave him a mocking look, then broke into a broad smile, stealing Pip’s breath. “You are so beautiful, Rosie,” he said softly.
Rosie blushed, but didn’t turn away. “Thanks, Honey. Do you want to tell me about your day?”
“Not really — there was primping and prodding, wardrobe changes, posing, acting… it wasn’t bad, it was just a lot, especially given that it’s all new.”
Rosie looked at Pip more closely; the haircut was obvious when she first walked in: his unruly curls had been trimmed short on the back and sides of his head, but left longer on top, finding a wonderful balance between clean-cut and mischievous. His skin, however, also looked different — almost blemish free, and slightly darker than before. While her eyes wandered, memorizing details, she noticed a black line peaking out from the back of his right shirt sleeve. Pip saw where she was staring and looked away shyly. “It was Lilith’s idea. She said it would up the sex factor, whatever that means. She also thought it would appeal to the more patriotic people in the city; she’s trying to make me into a symbol.”
“Can I see it?” Rosie said quietly.
Pip sat up and pulled his shirt off self-consciously, setting it aside. As the large black design came into view, Rosie gasped and put her hand to her mouth. On Pip’s right pectoral was an intricately drawn spider, clearly derived from the symbol of Rieckenburg. The arachnid was perched on its web, which covered most of his chest and wrapped around his right shoulder. The webbing connected to branches at his left shoulder that continued around to his back. Rosie made a twirling motion with her finger and Pip rolled over, showing that the design wrapped all the way around. Starting at his waist and covering his entire back was a large tree with branches that extended to both shoulders, where the off-center web attached. Like the spider, the tree itself was left mostly unshaded; it ended abruptly at the base of Pip’s neck, and looked shattered, as if struck by lightning. Despite the macabre tone, the drawing was not overly dark, allowing most of Pip’s skin to be visible.
“It’s amazing,” she said when she got her breath back.
Pip rolled over so he could see her. “It’s not permanent yet. I told Director Collins that I wanted two more opinions before they actually do the tattoo. She agreed, but insisted that they lay out the whole design for the promotional stuff today. So, do you like it?”
Rosie looked him directly in the eyes, unwavering. “Pip, it’s so perfect for you: it’s scary and beautiful at the same time.”
“Do you think Maggie will like it, too?”
“No doubt in my mind,” replied Rosie. “Do you need an answer tonight?”
“Tomorrow will be fine, but the Director wanted to make a decision soon, so they can either use the material from today or not. Thinking about it now, I think she wanted to put pressure on my to go ahead with it so I wouldn’t have to repeat today,” Pip said admiringly. “Sneaky.”
Rosie had begun delicately tracing the lines on his chest, as if she was afraid she would break the spider’s web. “What else did they do?”
Pip took a deep breath, remembering. “They started with the haircut, then used some chemical rub to remove the other hair, then –”
“Hold on there, mister,” Rosie cut in. “All of the hair?” Pip reddened and nodded. “That explains why your chest is so smooth — I didn’t put it together. What about… down there?”
Pip turned even redder and nodded again. “They didn’t give me much of a choice; something about outlines.”
Rosie raised her eyebrows. “I wonder what kind of photos they’re taking. How was that?”
“Honestly,” said Pip, “it was pretty embarrassing. When Megan was working on me, I got a little… bigger.”
“Megan, huh?” asked Rosie, arching her eyebrow. “And what did Megan think about your growth.”
Pip quickly regained the color he had been losing, “She didn’t say anything, but she seemed to be touching me a lot, maybe a little more than necessary.”
Rosie smiled wickedly. “Touching you — like this?” she said, moving her hand up and down the front of his shorts.
Pip fell backward with a groan, causing the entire bed to bounce when he hit. “Sort of,” he replied with his eyes closed, “but I wasn’t wearing anything because they were doing it all.”
“Of course,” said Rosie, tugging down his shorts. Pip lifted his hips and was soon lying fully exposed. “So, like this,” she said confidently, wrapping her hand most of the way around him. Pip groaned again, louder this time.
“Did you like it?” she asked. “Did you enjoy that Megan was being naughty?” Pip didn’t reply, but his physiological reaction gave Rosie her answer. “Did you finish?” she asked in a breathy whisper.
Pip shook his head immediately. “Good boy,” she whispered in a husky tone, increasing her efforts.
When his release came, finally, Pip moaned Rosie’s name aloud. The eroticism of the moment overcame her, and she tackled a still stunned Pip, kissing him passionately. When he came back to himself and found that he was under an unrelenting assault, he simply picked Rosie up and tossed her on her back. Clearly surprised by the sudden turn, Rosie shrieked in the air, then giggled when he rolled over so that his arms were on either side of her. The size mismatch was so enormous that Pip was all Rosie could see, no matter where she looked. The helplessness gave her a moment of panic, but Pip quickly moved down, kissing her lips, then her neck, then her collar bone. As he moved down, exploring her in detail for the first time, Rosie’s short-lived anxiety was entirely replaced by lust.
When he reached her middle, he lifted her without warning, pulled down her skirt and threw it across the room. Now laid bare, Rosie had to fight the instinct to cover up — how could she live up to this beautiful, sexual, sensual Adam? Then she looked down into his eyes, saw the adoration there, and let her doubts go.
Pip planted kisses around her navel, then continued downward while gently stroking her thigh with his larger fingers. His breath against her hair caused Rosie to take a sharp intake of breath, which was expelled with a shriek when his lips then found hers. Pip continued to explore, luxuriating in the intimacy, not stopping until Rosie was entirely exhausted.
Laying on her back, still in shock, Rosie assessed her condition. Her throat was hoarse from screaming, she couldn’t lift her arms at the moment, and she was fairly certain she had strained a muscle in her abdomen. Focusing her eyes, she looked up at Pip, who seemed awfully proud of himself. “That was a good start,” she rasped, “but your technique could use a little work. We’d better keep practicing… but not tonight. Wouldn’t want to wear you out for tomorrow.”
Pip just smiled and pulled her up onto his chest as he laid down. “Goodnight, Gorgeous,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Sleep well.”
The next morning Pip woke alone, as expected, given that Rosie had early rounds most days; he was still smiling as he went to find Maggie. He was fortunate to locate her as she moved between appointments.
“Hey, Maggie,” he called. Turning at the sound of her name, her whole face came alive when she saw him. Dropping the bag she was carrying, Maggie ran down the hall and jumped into his arms, except she didn’t quite make it given how tall Pip was. Instead, Pip reached down and caught her, lifting her up to give her a good morning kiss. “Missed you last night.” Maggie’s already broad smile widened further.
“Rosie wasn’t enough for you then?” she teased. When he didn’t rise to her ribbing, she asked, “What’s up? It’s usually me coming to find you.”
“Actually, I need your opinion,” he started. “You didn’t see Rosie yet this morning?” When she shook her head, he continued, “Director Collins wants me to get a tattoo.” Maggie’s eyes lit up, excited at the prospect. “The thing is, it’s pretty… intense, and I wanted your opinion before I say ‘yes’.”
“Aw, Pip — thank you for thinking of me, but Rosie’s the one whose opinion matters.”
Pip shook his head vehemently. “I know you see this whole First-Second thing as being important, but you’re both my girls. I don’t think I can intentionally treat you differently, so I’m not even going to try.”
Maggie’s smile faltered and her lip quivered. “Thank you, Pip, that means a lot to me.” She took a deep breath. “What is the tattoo?”
“I’d like to show you, actually. Director Collins had them draw it on me so that you and Rosie could see.”
“Wait, she knows about Rosie and me? Why?”
“She was there when I met Rosie, and kind of helped push us together. I just told her about you yesterday when this tattoo thing came up.”
“Pip, I swear to the Lord, if you keep saying such sweet things to me, I’m going to jump you here in the hallway. Just show me the design already.”
Pip set her down and pulled his shirt over his head, feeling self-conscious again. Whatever Maggie had been expecting, this wasn’t it, and her sharp intake of breath let him know that fact. Quickly recovering, she walked slowly around him, admiring the detail. When she completed her circuit she looked up at Pip. “It’s perfect: Direct Collins is brilliant.” Pip raised his eyebrows, so she elaborated. “Somehow, it’s dark and light at the same time. It’s just… breathtaking.”
“Thanks, Mags.”
“Do you want me to find a stand-in for my next appointment? I would love to spend some time exploring it in detail.”
“No, you go ahead,” he said chuckling. “I have to go back to the guy who is going to do this thing. They made is sound like it will take all day.”
“I don’t doubt it. Rosie and I will come see you this evening; you’re probably going to be pretty sore.”
“Yeah, probably. Thanks again, Maggie.”
With a last kiss she floated back down the hallway, retrieved her bag, and disappeared around the corner with a parting wave.
That night Pip did seem to hurt all over, but he managed to get to sleep with the aid of anti-inflammatories and some tender care from the ladies. Even better, Max gave him the next two days off from training to heal.
With his new look, Pip noticed people in the Complex — and even other Adams — staring, much more than before. They all knew what had happened in the fight with Ranger, and the aggressive haircut and ink seemed to solidify the image of a dangerous man in their minds. Pip found himself alternating between liking the attention and dreading it, sometimes strutting with his chest out, and other times slouching beneath a hooded overshirt. Even then he stood out, not quite tall enough to be an Adam, and yet bigger than everyone else. The solitary nature of his life started to weigh on him in his downtime. Adams were almost exclusively loners: who wanted to make friends with other Adams that you might be asked to kill? And yet, how could a man relate to him? Pip began to see the value in the PET ladies, and depended heavily on Rosie and Maggie to keep his mood from dipping too low. Even so, they had other responsibilities, as did he, so he was often by himself.
Laying in bed, battered from an especially brutal workout that Max had devised, Pip started to daydream. In particular, he thought about what he wanted in his life, and from his life. Glory, fame, family — what was it that drove him?
The next day, following a staged workout in which Director Collins’ team recorded video after video, he approached the woman herself. “Excuse me, ma’am? I would like to speak with you for a short while, if you can spare the time.”
Director Collins couldn’t help but smile at his formality. “Yes, Pip — how may I help you?”
“Actually, ma’am, I’m feeling pretty stifled here in the Complex. I’m not exactly sure how to frame this, but all I do is fight and recuperate. It’s a little surprising to me, but the work with you has been a nice change.” Director Collins nodded in acknowledgement as he continued. “I don’t feel like my life is my own, and that bothers me.”
“How so?” she asked, turning serious.
“I tried to think of what motivates me — why I do what I do. All I could come up with is that this,” he opened his arms, indicating the courtyard and surrounding buildings, “is what I was made to do, so I do it.” He paused for emphasis. “It’s my purpose, and I accept it, but I feel like there should be more to me than just trying to kill opponents one at a time.”
The Director was concerned: Adams were always most satisfied in the Arena, squaring off to determine who was stronger, faster. Pip really was an oddity, and she was not certain how to appease him. “I’ll be honest, Pip, I don’t know what to tell you. I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not sure what we can do. I assume you have something in mind?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. I would like to try new things, and see if any of them really… speak to me.” Lilith raised her eyebrows questioningly, but didn’t say anything, giving Pip time to continue on his own. When he did, his tone was wistful. “I read books, watch programs, and I can’t really relate to any of it on a personal level. Athletics, sightseeing, meeting new people — none of it.” He took another steadying breath before continuing. “I’m going to die in the Arena, Director Collins, maybe sooner than later. I would really like to find who I am before that happens.”
The gears of Lilith’s mind turned, creating, evaluating, and subsequently rejecting ideas in quick succession. “You know, this could actually work for us,” she said, although her latest idea was still only partially formed. “Give me a few days and let me work out some possibilities. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” Pip said grinning.
It actually took nine days and dozens of conversations before Lilith was able to work through the minutia. At the end of it, she thought Pip would be pleased, and was excited to break the news. Walking with John toward Pip’s room, she said, “How should we do this? Do you want to tell him?”
“Nope. You’re the one that did the work, take the credit. He’ll thank you for it forever.”
“You’re that sure he’ll like what we have planned?”
“Definitely, but to be honest, I think he would go for almost anything to break the monotony of this place. I told you he was different. Besides, do you remember how much fun he had when we took the race bikes out?”
“Don’t remind me. If he gets hurt during one of these outings, I think the Executive Director is actually going to kill me.”
“So why do it?” asked John, genuinely curious.
“It’s too good an opportunity to pass up,” she replied guiltily. “I was going to hype him up and show him off in controlled environments, but to do it in real, uncertain situations will go over much better with the public. People will actively want to know what he’s doing; it will become the main gossip subject for men and women alike — it really is perfect. So long as he buys in, of course.”
Pip was ecstatic at the prospect of the plan Lilith laid out, wanting to get started immediately. However, due to the need for logistics, security, and other details Pip didn’t really listen to, it wasn’t until six days later that Pip and John rode out of the back entrance of the Complex, once again on their race bikes.
Chapter 11
“I’ll be honest, John,” said Pip as they stood outside Rieckenburg’s Central Ballsport Stadium, “I’m a bit nervous.”
“How is that even possible? You kill people for a living, and you’re scared of a bunch of guys half your size?”
“No, I didn’t mean them; I’ve never done this kind of thing before. What if I’m not any good and let Director Collins down, or mess up her plans?”
John shrugged, “Sure, that’s a possibility, but I don’t think it’s very likely. Besides, you told the Director that you wanted to live a fuller life, and what’s life without risk, right?”
“Yeah, okay. So how does this work?”
“It’s pretty simple. Ballsport is played on a pitch, and it’s square, with about twenty of your paces on a side. In the center of each side is a net that’s about three paces wide. The goal is to keep the three opposing sides from putting a ball into your net, while you try to move it into theirs.”
Pip nodded his understanding. “So me against three others?”
John laughed, “No, Pip. This is a team sport with twelve members on each team. Some of them stay back near the net to keep the ball out: these are called defenders, or the defense. The rest are called attackers, or strikers, or just generally the offense.”
“What will I be doing?”
“We’ll talk with the team’s coordinator, but I think probably defense to start. I’m a little concerned that you’ll kill somebody if you’re on the attack.”
“You can fight?” Pip asked, confused.
“Not as such, but there really aren’t many rules, so anything shy of actually punching or kicking someone intentionally is acceptable. For example, you can throw yourself into your opponents, and it’s fine. Anyway, don’t worry about the details just now. I am surprised that you haven’t seen a video of this before.”
“Never really took an interest,” Pip replied, “since it didn’t seem like something I’d be able to do. I mostly only follow the news reports to see what is going on outside the Complex. Other than that, I might have heard about a few of the team names, but that’s it.”
“Third Quarter West?” Pip shook his head. “Not surprised. They’re the newest team — about five years old, I think — and definitely the worst. I am pretty sure they’ve been the first or second team eliminated in each of their matches.”
“Eliminated, as in death?” asked Pip, hoping it wasn’t that severe.
“No, sorry; I keep forgetting the terms don’t necessarily make sense without context. When another team puts the ball into your net, your team forfeits the match. That’s what eliminated means here.”
Still feeling unsure, Pip walked into the stadium with John. The structure itself was constructed from concrete with a brick facade on the side with the main entrance. There were seats on each side, rising up several rows, which would allow more than two thousand spectators to witness events. The pitch was set below the level of the first row of seats, and was as John described, with solid walls on all four sides, broken only by a double door behind each net. Just inside the wall closest to where they entered was a middle aged man holding a white ball. Upon seeing them he waved, and the two started over.
Reaching the wall in front of the lowest seats, Pip barely hesitated in hopping over and into the arena. The drop was about the same as John’s height, but Pip squeezed time just before he hit to make sure he landed softly, causing the man’s eyes to widen. John, somewhat less confident in his ability to land gracefully, took the stairs leading to the corridor opening behind the net.
“Hi, Paul,” he said upon reaching the two. “Don’t mind Pip — he’s just showing off.”
“No worries,” the man replied in a gravelly but cheerful voice. Paul was short and stocky compared to most men, with a lopsided nose and an uneven grin. He was missing part of his left ear and favored his left leg when they began to casually walk around the perimeter. “I didn’t really think they was serious when they told me how big you’d be,” he said, addressing Pip. “I’m glad you’s on our side.”
Over the next two bells, leading up to a team practice, Paul filled Pip in on the finer points of the game. Pip found the entire experience fascinating, especially that men put so much effort into a contest without significant consequences. Much like his own training, there were specific techniques to use for attacking and defending, as well as counter techniques to respond to opponents. An additional parallel was that the contestants were frequently hurt during matches, sometimes seriously. Given the depressed economic state of Rieckenburg and the overall food situation, a significant injury could mean that a particular player might not be able to work for some time afterward. All of this for a small monetary reward and what Paul called ‘bragging rights.’ Pip’s inquiries on this topic amused and then frustrated the man, so Pip gave up trying to understand the ‘why,’ instead focusing on the ‘what.’
The start of practice brought the expected awe, usually accompanied with a colorful curse. At John’s urging, Pip used the Effect to keep from injuring anyone, instead softening hits or avoiding them altogether. When it ended, Pip’s new teammates were genuinely excited about the upcoming match; in addition to the clear advantage of his size, Pip was obviously the most athletic player on the field on the basis of speed, quickness, and strength.
In addition to learning the rules and basic strategies of what was a fundamentally simple game, Pip’s abilities while using the Effect increased demonstrably in a remarkably short time. Having to keep track of multiple players simultaneously while also working as part of a team was entirely new to Pip; doing it while time was moving at a slower rate tested him, and it took most of the first bell until he started to anticipate properly. He also started developing what might have been called a sixth sense — if his ability to manipulate time hadn’t already filled that role — in that he could almost feel when someone was behind him.
Riding back to the Complex, Pip wasn’t any more talkative than usual, but John could tell that the young Adam had enjoyed himself: his body language said he was relaxed, and the corner of his mouth kept turning up, either reflecting on some incident during the practice session or looking forward to the upcoming contest. Either way, Pip looked comfortable with himself, which had not been common in the recent past.
All it took, John reflected ironically, was for him to have the opportunity to beat up on smaller men. John immediately regretted this thought as unworthy of Pip. After all, Pip had beat up a bigger Adam recently, and didn’t take any joy from that whatsoever. No, it was likely the sense of comradery that had already started to develop by the end of the practice; John had actually had to intervene when Pip tried to accept an invitation to accompany the team back to a bar in the Third Quarter.
Three days later, John was once again sitting with Lilith to watch Pip perform, this time as part of Third Quarter West. Pip’s team stood barefoot, dressed in scarlet, but not uniformly, as each player had chosen what to wear. Most had on long shorts and sleeveless shirts, while Pip and several others had opted to go shirtless. For Pip, this was actually Director Collins’ suggestion, a clear attempt to draw attention to him.
Directly across the pitch was a team in gray called VTE, short for Vigorous-Tenacious-Enduring; the lack of color denoted that they were a mixed squad, with members from throughout the city. On the left were Rieckenburg Q2, dressed in dark blue, the reigning champions. On the right, also from the Second Quarter, was Center Second dressed in light blue, Q2’s chief rivals. It was obvious, even to a casual fan like Lilith, that the members of Pip’s team were not generally as large, nor as disciplined, as the members of the other teams. On the other hand, the men dressed in scarlet looked confident and had an energy about them that the other teams lacked. Small wonder, really, given that Pip stood at the front. With his imposing size and incredible musculature, accented by thin scarlet bands around both arms and a third around his forehead, as well as the huge black tattoo, he looked truly frightening.
Looking at the four corners of the pitch, Director Collins reassured herself one final time that her media team was in place to capture the game. Like most of them, this match would be broadcast live; however, the addition of the Complex’s Public Relations team would make this a more professional looking event for viewers not in physical attendance.
As the head referee and his four assistants walked onto the pitch, the crowd came to life, shouting for their respective teams. Fully at the stadium’s capacity, the noise was something that she had only previously heard during particularly raucous protests some ten years before. Lilith felt a thrill rush up her spine and down her arms, and instinctively sat forward in her seat while grabbing John’s knee.
John frequently attended these games and was not so affected, but he did smile at Lilith’s anxiety. “He’ll be alright,” he said, patting her hand. Lilith nodded, but didn’t remove her hand, which tightened when a whistle blew to start the game.
Contrary to John’s prediction, Pip started as an attacker and raced across the pitch. With his longer legs and superior athleticism, he reached the ball first, but rather than reaching down to pick it up, he kicked it forcefully with his bare foot without breaking stride into the face of the closest gray shirted opponent, who immediately dropped backward, stunned. While the rest of the players were watching the upward path of the ball, Pip hurled himself sideways into a wall of gray, taking three players over backwards in a tangle of limbs. By the time Pip got back on his knees, his teammates had shown up and were actively tackling the standing gray shirts that had rushed forward.
Meanwhile, the dark blue squad picked up the ball and rushed toward the gray net, sensing a chance to quickly eliminate an opponent. They formed a six man wedge with the ball carrier in the center of the back row. Their light blue rivals soon joined in, swelling the wedge size to eleven. The man at the front, huge and dark, bellowed what could easily pass for a war cry as they crashed into the gray defenders. The entire crowd gasped as the gray team was driven back into their net, despite their best efforts. When it became clear that the ball had indeed entered the goal, the head referee blew his whistle.
While the assistant referees rushed over to untangle bodies, the crowd continued to cheer; even the fans cheering for the gray side applauded the valiant defense. When it was sorted, three men still laid on the pitch, too injured to rise. Stretchers quickly came into the arena to carry them off. As the gray team filed out, three more men exited the pitch nursing injuries of their own. The two blue teams were brought back to their full compliments by substitutes; no one from Pip’s new team had been injured significantly during the first exchange.
Up in the seats, Lilith’s hand finally started to relax as the remaining teams took their starting positions again. She sat back in her seat, which caused her hand to slide up his leg; John certainly noticed, but said nothing. After a few heartbeats, Lilith said, “That was much more violent in person.”
John nodded, “Yeah, that was a bad one. Pip did well, though. If he hadn’t handicapped VTE so badly — that’s the gray team — there’s a good chance the other teams would have joined up to eliminate their team.”
“Why is that?”
“Pip,” said John simply. “Doesn’t he look like the biggest threat down there?”
Lilith nodded, understanding the point. “So the blue teams will cooperate again now?”
“If they get a chance. They have to get the ball first; otherwise, they’re not really allowed to attack. I doubt they’ve got anybody that will get there before Pip, but we’ll see. Look: the head referee is ready to start again.” As before, Lilith’s hand gripped tightly.
Pip was once again tearing across the pitch as soon as the whistle blew, quickly covering ground. However, the light blue team had brought in a tall, wiry man as a substitute, who was also fast approaching the ball with impressive speed. As the brief race’s conclusion drew near, Pip saw that he would win, but just barely. In a surprise move, the other man dove, fully extended, just as Pip was reaching down for the ball. The smaller man’s fist reached their shared target first and punched it forward just before Pip’s hand made contact; unfortunately for the man, his maneuver put his head in line with Pip’s right shin. Pip felt the contact, but suffered no injury as the man’s neck gave way easily; he didn’t spare a glance as he checked his momentum, trying to see where the ball had gone.
The desperate tactic was clearly planned, as the two blue teams had already joined together into another huge wedge, this time with fourteen attackers. Back at their own net, the scarlet side, Second Quarter West, had formed their own block with all eleven remaining members staying behind as Pip made his run. Slowing time so he could fully assess the situation, Pip saw that it might just be possible to overtake the wedge, if he was able to get up to full speed fast enough. Exerting the Effect to its fullest, he began his run, using all of the force he could muster, focusing muscle group by muscle group as he had been practicing with Max. In less than three heartbeats of real time, Pip was already at his top speed. When he judged the distance to be correct, he performed his own dive toward the rear of the wedge.
Pip’s momentum drove him into the ball carrier at the back, plowing the man forward into his teammates, who also toppled forward as their legs were caught from behind. The wedge shuttered and fell apart just as the front of the scarlet line drove forward to absorb the impact. The man at the point of the wedge was least fortunate as he stumbled directly into the shoulder of a large scarlet clad man, his head snapping back as his momentum was forcibly checked. As for the game, Pip wrestled the ball from the previous carrier and started back across the pitch toward the light blue net.
Isolated from his team, Pip knew that it wasn’t a sure thing that he would score; the remaining five defenders were big, experienced players, conditioned to work as a team. They were already forming up to try to break Pip’s headlong rush, tightly spaced with three in front and two in back. As he approached at a full sprint, Pip dropped his head, lowered his shoulder, and planted his right foot less than a body length from the defenders, pivoting hard to his left. The group toppled forward, expecting force and receiving none. With the goal now undefended, Pip trotted into the net and set the ball down at the back before jogging back toward his team, where he was welcomed with cheers and back slaps.
Once again, stretchers raced forward, this time to collect two dead men, one of which had come from each team in blue; as an odd counterpoint, no other players were injured enough to leave the arena with the defeated light blue players.
Lilith looked up to see John sitting with his arms folded, a smug smile on his face. “Was he that good?” she asked playfully.
“Definitely yes,” John replied, playing the proud father. “There isn’t a man on the planet that could have done what he just did.” Forgetting himself, John reached around and pulled Lilith close. When her warm body gently impacted his own, he froze, realizing what he had just done. Nothing happened for five heartbeats, then she leaned into him, resting her head against his side. The tension in his shoulders released and he looked down at her, to find that she was smiling up at him. They held eye contact for a moment, and then she looked back down to the pitch where the two remaining teams were getting ready and squeezed his leg again. The scarlet players were jubilant, bouncing and chatting; conversely, the dark blue team was huddled tightly, clearly discussing their strategy.
The head referee walked toward the center of the arena and the two teams took their starting positions — Pip was once again positioned at the front, ready to race for the ball. The whistle sounded and he sprinted for the third time. Reaching the ball first easily, he turned to see that the entire blue squad had charged toward the center. Seeing their net undefended, Pip turned and heaved the ball in its direction. The entire arena fell silent as the spectators watched it arc beautifully through the air, then bounce, bounce again, and enter the net. Pip raised his arms in victory and turned toward his team, who didn’t look nearly as happy, pointing just behind him. Pip turned just in time to see two blue players lower their shoulders and crash into him.
Even as he slowed time, there was nothing Pip could do to avoid being tackled roughly and driven to the ground. As his legs left the arena sand, the crowd gasped collectively, amazed at the site; while Pip berated himself for not paying attention to his opponents, he worked urgently to rotate his hips so that instead of landing on his back he hit on his right hip and shoulder. As a result, he didn’t lose the air in his lungs and was able to quickly roll on top of the two attackers. His superior position was short-lived, however, as the rest of the blue team crashed into him from behind.
Caught in the bottom of the melee, Pip was on the receiving end of repeated blows; fortunately, the limited space in the pile prevented most of them from being significant. Even as he began to make progress toward breaking free, a tremendous strike landed cleanly on his right side, maybe even cracking a rib. Despite the pain, Pip’s mind was still working — the only explanations that made sense were either a leaping knee or elbow strike — which seemed unlikely — or that they had brought weapons into the arena. The latter theory was confirmed a heartbeat later when Pip felt a blade slice across the back of his right arm, agonizing as it moved in slow motion.
Prior to the fight, Lilith had made it very clear that Pip was not to intentionally harm opposing players, as it would make him out to be a bully; rather, the point was to demonstrate how superior he was to some of the best men in Rieckenburg. Now, however, these men had apparently decided to kill him, which put them squarely within his normal arena.
In the stands, John had started to rise at the first tackle, only to be pulled back down by Lilith. He could easily have disengaged, but it was clear that she had something in mind. “Wait,” she said. John eased back down, but remained tense, ready to race down into the arena if it looked like Pip was in over his head.
Across the pitch, Pip’s scarlet teammates stood, watching the fight play out, making no move to intervene. The referees, knowing this was beyond them, fled.
In the pile, Pip began to use his fists, elbows, knees, feet, and even head, to deliver blow after blow to whoever he could reach. Once again focusing on individual muscle groups, he was able to deliver powerful strikes without long wind ups. From the outside it didn’t look like much was happening, until a man on the top of the pile rolled off, screaming as blood streamed from his nose and mouth. Then a second man spun off of the pile, collapsing in the dirt, followed by another who dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.
With the weight of the pile reduced, Pip rolled, heaving the remaining men off his back while he regained his feet, panting with exertion. Blood flowed from his nose and ran from multiple slices on his arm and side. The crowd gasped as Pip roared, then cowered as he picked up the nearest man and crushed his face with a single punch. Still the blue men kept coming, trying to take him down again. Pip kicked and a man collapsed, his ribs crushed. Pip punched and a different man’s chest caved in. There were now seven men standing, facing their giant opponent, as the door behind their net opened and six more men dressed in dark blue charged into the arena, armed with much more obvious weapons.
Lilith once again restrained John with the hand on his thigh, saying only a single word: “Watch.” To convince him, she moved her hand to the front of his pants, squeezing. John looked down at her with wide eyes, uncomprehending; in response she just flicked her head toward the arena. John, utterly flabbergasted, did as she indicated.
Down on the pitch, Pip saw the new arrivals and looked around for his own weapon. Seeing only a small black blade and what appeared to be a set of welded metal rings, Pip opted for the most outlandish measure he could devise in short notice. Bending down, he grabbed the legs of the man whose face he had smashed, and hefted him into the air, over his shoulder. This was a large man, definitely heavier than the population mean, so when Pip brought the body down on top of a surprised opponent in blue, there was a sickening crunch audible even to the crowd. Pip began to swing his massive new club at the men in blue closest to him, causing them to dive out of the way, or run in different directions. When two collided, he ended the life of one with a foot to the face while the other crawled away.
Up in the stands, many of the audience members were covering their faces or turning away, refusing to look at such an awful spectacle, and then surreptitiously looking anyway. As the Q2 team was re-enforced, a sense of anticipation built. Down in the arena, Pip dropped the body he had been holding, and called out to the men in blue, although it was not loud enough for the spectators to hear. An exchange followed, and suspense built further. Finally, a man with two long knives stepped forward and the crowd quieted.
John smiled, seeing what Pip had done; Lilith’s hand moved more aggressively at his groin.
The man in blue spun his knives expertly, tracing intricate patterns while Pip waited calmly in a generic fighting stance. The man came forward, knives now in a ready position with one forward and the other back; still Pip waited, motionless. The man made a thrust, which Pip knocked away easily, then another, and another. Pip’s longer reach made it impossible for him to land any stabs, so the man started slicing cuts. These were harder for Pip, and he had to dodge rapidly, almost getting cut several times as the man became more aggressive. A particularly crafty slice drew a line of red across Pip’s side and he took three long strides backward quickly, trying to put distance between them. The smaller man grinned and narrowed his eyes, sensing fear.
Seeing that he could not forever escape the knives, Pip took a stride forward and threw a huge hammer fist with his right hand. Such a blow would easily have crushed the man’s skull, but this particular man was too fast: spreading his legs into a firm stance while while raising his knives to catch the huge arm now falling: he was prepared for the strike.
In slow time, Pip easily stopped his arm’s momentum and instead kicked with his right leg, catching the man cleanly in the genitals while shattering his pelvis from below. The audience saw the man drop, screaming, while holding himself. The awful, bone chilling cries only stopped when he started vomiting, his voice choked off by bile and blood.
Pip was once again talking, but this time there was no dialogue as the men dressed in blue decided what to do. When one of them turned and started back toward the door through which he had entered, the pressure that had been building began leaking out of the entire stadium like a deflating balloon. The remaining men in blue started to help, or carry, their injured teammates back the same way; five were left to lie.
Bending and picking up one of the long knives, Pip started toward his own team, clearly unhappy, and the pressure in the stadium started to build again; even the men in dark blue paused to see what transpired. When he was several paces away, Pip threw the knife down so that it stuck into the sand all the way to the bolster. Pip began yelling at them, so loud that John could hear parts of words. Eventually they resolved into, “Pick it up!”, which was repeated several times. When none of them moved, Pip grabbed the man closest to him and dragged him by his arm ten paces toward the center of the pitch, tossing him down. He then moved off an additional five paces and turned, facing the man, who had not risen to his feet.
Pip shouted something, and the man curled up into a ball. Another shout, probably a threat, and the man slowly rose up, with his hands held forward. Pip said one more thing, quieter this time, and the man’s arms dropped. Drawing himself up to his full height, the man in scarlet pushed his shoulders back, and took a deep breath, raising his arms as if he was preparing for a fight.
John gripped the front of his seat tightly, his whole body tense. “Do it,” Lilith whispered toward Pip.
Pip walked purposefully toward the man and pulled back his fist. In response, the man held up his hands and turned his head away, losing courage at the last moment; it didn’t stop Pip’s fist, which connected squarely with the smaller man’s temple.
John’s entire body released its tension at once, causing him to cry out. Lilith smiled, thoroughly satisfied with how events had played out, while wiping her hand on John’s thigh and then standing. “What the hell was that about?” John finally managed to get out.
“Just the first act in building up Pip’s reputation, John. Now, every single person in Rieckenburg, every man, woman, and child, will know about Pip, and they’ll all be terrified of him.”
“And that’s a good thing?” he asked, surprised.
“More than that: it’s necessary for what I have planned.”
John realized he was in over his head, and didn’t even know how to respond. “And what about this up here?”
Lilith smiled aggressively and looked deep into his eyes. “Same thing: that was our first act. Act two starts tomorrow.”
Chapter 12
Lying in his bed, John reflected on the day that had been, his mind skipping back and forth between topics. While he was surprised at the turn of events during the match and subsequent brawl, it was Lilith’s behavior that truly baffled him. Not only was her physical attention unexpected, it was also quite unnerving. John couldn’t help feeling used, or at least manipulated, given that she had managed to control him. What’s more, her comments afterward left him feeling like he was at least one step behind in whatever larger game was being played, and probably more.
Surely Lilith was using John to manipulate Pip, and more than anything else, that irked him. As his anger started to build, sleep snuck up on him, so that when he woke to the sound of bells and found morning, he was surprised and still tired. John quickly righted himself and began making himself presentable to meet up with Pip before the prearranged meeting with Lilith at the eighth bell.
Neither John nor Pip were talkative, passing the walk in silence. This was typical for Pip, but John was naturally extroverted, and as a general rule didn’t like silences, preferring to fill them up, even if it meant one-sided conversations. As they approached Lilith’s office door, John stopped abruptly, glaring at Pip. “Aren’t you even a little mad about what happened yesterday?”
Pip shook his head casually. “Not really. I didn’t think it would be that extreme, but I assumed that there would be some sort of retaliation for me playing. It just makes sense.”
John was caught off-guard, his brow furrowing. “Okay, why?”
“Two reasons come immediately to mind,” replied Pip. “The first is that Director Collins wouldn’t have put me in a position where I just played a passive role, because she wants to build me up as some sort of modern super hero.
“The second is that I stepped into the sandbox of the toughest guys on the block, figuratively speaking, and it makes sense they didn’t like being showed up. I thought they would try to cheat somehow, or outmaneuver me, not throw the match for some petty payback. As it stands, my guess is that Director Collins is satisfied with the result, at least that’s how it came across when she talked with me briefly last night.”
“She came to see you? When?” barked John, not liking that he was not in the information loop.
“When I was stepping into the shower, just after the match ended. She didn’t stay long, just enough to congratulate me on the performance, and to tell me that I’d met her expectations.”
John considered what Pip said, and realized it was when he was cleaning himself up in the restroom. All in all, he felt less angry about the previous day’s events, but it definitely bothered him that he hadn’t anticipated what happened. Strategy was one of his strengths, after all.
As John was still considering this new information, the door opened and Lilith came out. She was dressed in dark gray, simultaneously appearing professional, intimidating, and alluring, at least to John. After a quick greeting, she gestured for Pip to enter, and then closed the door behind him, remaining in the hall with John. “Good morning, John,” she started. “I can tell you’re upset. I’m sorry for that: it wasn’t my intention.”
John gave her his best questioning glare, which hadn’t previously been in his repertoire, so he wasn’t sure of it’s effectiveness until she continued. “Turns out the door isn’t actually soundproof. I heard you talking.” John acknowledged this with a curt nod. “But I don’t think that’s what is really bothering you. Is it about what happened between us in the stands?”
John reloaded his glare, which had momentarily slipped, increasing it to maximum intensity. “I don’t like being manipulated, Director Collins,” he angrily stage whispered. “And I especially don’t like it when somebody tries to get to Pip through me.”
Although John was quite intimidating when bearing down on her from above, Lilith didn’t turn away, as if she had been expecting to be rebuffed. “John, you’re simultaneously right and wrong,” she replied evenly. “Will you hear me out?”
Having geared himself up for a row, John had to vent some of the built up tension, so he stood up to his full height, turned around, and took a deep breath to calm himself. When he turned back around, he looked more in control, and nodded for Lilith to continue.
“First, where you’re wrong: as you heard Pip tell you, he’s not being manipulated.” She forestalled John interjecting by holding up her small hand. “Listen first, John, please. As you insisted, he’s a full partner in what I’m doing. I didn’t tell him that I expected trouble at the fight, because I didn’t know what would happen, but he and I did talk about how he might respond in certain situations beforehand. What’s more, he’s every bit as intelligent as you’ve told me, multiple times, as he already demonstrated again here in the hallway this morning. He was probably better prepared for the kind of violence last night than I was. Besides, from a big picture perspective, trying to manipulate him simply isn’t worth the risk: it’s too likely to bite me in the ass. Do you understand?”
While the explanation was simple, John couldn’t find fault in the reasoning. Even so, he was still upset. “And the rest?”
“Well,” Lilith started, looking down and away for the first time, “what happened between us wasn’t actually planned. I mean, it wasn’t an accident, obviously,” she looked up to him with the corner of her mouth turning up, “and I was getting tired of you not making a move toward me, regardless of how many times I hinted at it.”
“Seriously?” John didn’t realize it, but his mouth was partially open and he had all but stopped breathing.
Lilith shrugged. “I’m used to getting what I want, and I want you.
“Listen, John: when you started to stand up to go help Pip, I had to stop you. If you’d have gone down there, the impact of Pip’s performance, not to make a bad pun, would not have been as significant. Plus,” and here Lilith paused, “I was afraid you’d get hurt. I know you’re big and strong and can hold your own, but nobody can fight so many armed men. Nobody but Pip, and that’s the whole point. What I needed for this program to work was Pip to show how much better he is at, well, everything. When those ten-or-whatever guys jumped him, with knives, and he beat the hell out of them anyway… I simply couldn’t have scripted something more effective.
“So when you stood up, which was incredibly sexy, by the way, I made a snap decision to get what I wanted and what I needed at the same time. I really didn’t intend to make you feel manipulated, but I realized that I might have fucked up as I was trying to fall asleep last night. I don’t know if it shows, but I didn’t really sleep: maybe just dozed a bit, because I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly this morning’s meeting might go.”
John looked at her appraisingly, then looked off into space. As the moments dragged on, Lilith found herself fidgeting. “John?”
Coming back to himself, he smiled for the first time since waking up. “I think you look amazing this morning.” When Lilith smiled, a combination of relief and joy, John picked her up in his arms and brought her face up level with his. With her legs dangling above the floor, Lilith wrapped them around his waist and looked deeply into his eyes, hesitating for several breaths before closing the distance for their first kiss.
Some time later, Pip coughed loudly from inside the office, breaking the pair out of their hyper focused state. Resting his forehead against hers, John whispered, “so was this the second act?”
Lilith bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “Only the intermission. The second act starts as soon as I can wrap up business this afternoon. Should we go talk with Pip?”
John took a deep breath and nodded, then set Lilith down. “Damn kids, no patience at all.” Just then, the quarter bell rang. “Okay, so maybe a little patience,” John admitted.
Entering the office, they found Pip sitting quietly. Lilith settled herself behind her desk while John chose to stand by the door. “Sorry for the delay, Pip…” Lilith started, but he just shrugged it off. “Well, then,” she replied smiling, “first thing’s first: how are you feeling? Going to be okay?”
“Sure,” Pip answered confidently. “One of the knife cuts went pretty deep, but didn’t get past my rib, so a few stitches fixed it up. That will keep me on rest for a few days, but the bruises aren’t too deep, so I’ll be at near full speed when Doc releases me for regular activities.”
“Good: Doc told me you would be fine, but I thought I’d get it straight from you as well.” Lilith took a breath, considering where she wanted to start the actual business part of their meeting. “Pip, I heard what you told John in the hall, and you are more or less correct in your assumptions about why I put you in such a position as you were in yesterday. I don’t know if you watched the news last night?” Pip shook his head. “Well, you were all over it, in multiple angles thanks to my crews covering the game -”
“Match.”
Lilith blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s called a match, not a game. I don’t know why, but that is what they told me.”
“Oh, okay. So, anyway, the match was all over the news. It was the lead story, and included interviews with players from all four teams, fans that were in the stands, as well as people from the group that organizes the games – I mean matches.
“They even expect a statement from the Meister’s Office today.”
“Is that bad?”
Lilith shook her head. “Not really. For all intents and purposes, the Complex is independent from the city, at least in terms of how we conduct our business. I do expect some sort of ban on having Adams compete in civil games in the future, but that isn’t unexpected.” John raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, to which Lilith shrugged. “Think about it, John. Pip’s the youngest, smallest Adam in the program, and in a single match eight men died. What if our washouts all want to play? There wouldn’t be any way for others to compete.”
“Okay,” acquiesced John. “That does make sense. You two might not know this, but Ballsport itself was intended for everyday people to play, as a way to let off stress, or maybe take out aggression in a… semi-constructive way.”
“So does that mean the men that were killed, or badly injured last night, won’t be able to meet their responsibilities?” asked Pip.
“Yes, unfortunately that is probably the case,” replied John. “Some of the teams are sponsored, which means a benefactor, or maybe one or two local companies, will provide a type of insurance to pay out to guys who can’t work, but it’s typically pretty limited. The carnage from last night was, at least as far as I know, unprecedented; I don’t have a clue what the two second quarter clubs will do to take care of widowed women and their families.”
“Do we have the resources to help?”
Lilith smiled broadly. “Actually, Pip, this is along the lines of what I was thinking. And what’s more, it’s a necessary part of building you back up in the public eye.”
Pip nodded slowly, considering. “Makes sense. What would that look like?”
“I have some ideas,” replied Lilith, “but I was hoping the two of you could also make some suggestions.”
“Well, Rosie comes to mind,” suggested John, which caused Pip to involuntarily stiffen. “Don’t worry, Pip – I didn’t mean Rosie personally, but more like Rosie as a case study. She’s done so well here, coming from a desperate situation. Second quarter families aren’t likely to be so hard off, at least in the short term, but I know a lot of people live hand to mouth in the city, so it probably won’t be long until at least some of them have exhausted whatever personal favors they might be able to call in. I can check around and see if there are openings within the Complex. I don’t think it should be that hard to find places for six or eight women, if they want to go to work, that is.”
“Good start,” said Lilith, “although I’m not sure that’s big enough, and it wouldn’t pack the public relations punch we want. What else?”
“Money?” asked Pip.
Lilith shook her head. “No, that will look like we’re trying to buy off the families, as if we did something wrong.”
“What about taking care of bills for a period. Maybe a year? This would give the families time to get on their feet again.”
Nodding her head, Lilith smiled. “Good suggestion, Pip, and closer to where my mind was at.”
With the coming of a sudden epiphany John’s head snapped up. “We treat them like the men killed were pool Adams,” he said directly to Lilith. “That’s your plan, isn’t it.” Her smile broadened and she sat back in her chair, lacing her fingers in her lap and looking smug. “I like it, Lilith, but how does Pip take credit for it?”
“Wait,” interjected Pip. “I don’t know what happens when a pool Adam dies.
John and Lilith started to explain at once and then stopped simultaneously, at which point she beckoned him to continue. “Well, it doesn’t happen with all of the pool Adams, but if one of them has a, uh, significant other, the Complex makes certain provisions to take care of that person. So, for example, when my father was killed, my mother was provided with a lifetime pension and I was guaranteed a place in the Complex school system until graduation, the same as if my father was still alive. The idea is that it doesn’t make sense to punish Adams’ families if they are killed doing what they’re supposed to do. This gives some piece of mind to the Adams so they can focus on their daily business.”
“So if I get myself killed, Rosie and Maggie will be looked after for the rest of their lives?”
“Yes, Rosie —
“Wait, Rosie and Maggie? Maggie from the PET department?” Pip nodded. “When did she get involved?”
“Not long after I met Rosie. They’re best friends.”
John harrumphed, looking to Lilith, who for her part just gave him an ‘I told you so’ smirk. “Well, you would have to be official –”
“Already done.”
“Really? In a month? You and Rosie are already registered as a couple?”
“Uh huh,” confirmed Pip, “and Maggie. She’s technically Rosie’s Second, but I don’t see her that way. The two of them are different, but equal to me. I don’t know if that really makes sense now that I said it out loud, but in my head it’s clear.”
John shook his head and sat down in the chair next to Pip. “Sure, why not? When are you going for a Third?” quipped John.
“Never,” replied Pip with a smile. “I can’t handle either of them individually, and when they’re together they’re unstoppable. I’d like to say that I usually put up a valiant effort to hold my own, but I’m usually outmaneuvered before they even start talking.”
Lilith leaned forward, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Pip, you may not realize it, but what you just said is brilliant.”
Pip cocked his head in an, ‘oh yeah?’ gesture, clearly not understanding Lilith’s unexpected statement.
“I was thinking that we could have you go to the families without publicizing it, and explain our offer to each of them. You’re charismatic when you want to be, and I think the presence you carry yourself with will be enough to impress the families, especially if there are kids involved.” Pip gave her another questioning look, so she answered the unspoken question. “It doesn’t really make sense, but I have a feeling they’ll see in you everything they want their kids to be, and will hope for success through association.” Pip considered briefly and then nodded. “Anyway, if we go the low key route, word will still get around without it seeming like we’re trying to cover something up; after all, people want to share good news. Or maybe they will just want to brag. Either way, it will serve our purposes.
“The inspired part is that we can add your ladies to the mix. When you show up with two beautiful young women who are utterly enthralled with you, the widows, moms, aunts – whoever – will ooh and ahh all over you. Really. It’s stereotypical, sure, but women – and men, for that matter – love a good romance story. Even better, think about how a down on her luck, desperate girl from the Fourth Quarter became a successful member of the Complex, falling in love with an actual Adam. And then you add in Maggie, who has more curves than any woman has right to, and the guys will all be dreaming of living your life.”
“I’ve gotta tell you, Lilith, that smile of yours is a bit on the evil side,” said John, mostly joking.
Lilith rubbed her hands together theatrically. “I’ve only just begun. But seriously, this is really good stuff, and better than what I came up with on my own. Pip, please talk with the girls and see if they’re on-board. Given that they’re both in the PET department, I would think selling them on providing comfort to grieving families would be easy. The rub may come in putting their names and faces out in the public. Please let me know by tomorrow; while you’re talking it through, I’ll be setting up appointments over the next two or three days. We need to move fast so that public sentiment doesn’t turn hostile. I’ll also call the Meister’s Office and give them a hint that we’ll be taking care of affected families. Alright, that’s it –”
“Actually,” cut in Pip, “there is one part of the plan that I need to amend. I won’t do it for the man I killed from the Third Quarter West team. I won’t be part of rewarding cowardice.”
“You mean because he wouldn’t fight you?” asked Lilith.
Pip shook his head. “No, because the entire team watched me get jumped, and just stood there.”
Lilith sat back and steepled her fingers, staring at nothing while she contemplated possible consequences. “Actually, you make a very good point that I hadn’t considered. I’ll only set up appointments with the Second Quarter families. If the guy in red had a family, they’ll eventually reach out to us to try to get a handout, at which point we can issue a public statement explaining the situation.
“Out of curiosity, though, don’t you hold a grudge against the darker blue team that jumped you?”
“Not really,” answered Pip. “I see it more as a desperation move to protect their status. As I understand the situation, the men in the arena risk a lot for a game that doesn’t really matter, at least so far as improving their lives is concerned. Even so, the matches they play are what they live for, figuratively speaking, and I took that away. I can at least respect them standing up for themselves, even if their approach turned out to be misguided.”
“Oh, that’s good, Pip, really good,” replied Lilith, her semi-evil smile returning. “That is exactly what we’ll say when we issue our statement: the Complex respects men and women that fight for what they believe in, regardless of the costs, but will not tolerate cowardice in any of its forms.”
John shook his head, amused at the interplay between the two. “When the two of you get going, it’s a bit scary. It’s like you had this whole thing planned out.”
“That’s not such a bad thing, is it? But really, it’s just a matter of adapting to the situation. Pip’s got great instincts, even if they’re still raw, so all you and I really need to do is put him in situations where he can succeed.
“Speaking of which, I’ll have the family information in a few bells, and will forward it on, along with a visit schedule. All good?”
John and Pip nodded their agreement, and stood to leave.
“John, can I speak with you for just a moment longer?” asked Lilith.
“Sure. Pip, I’ll be right out,” said John, not actually turning around to look at Pip. Pip rolled his eyes, stepped through the door and kept walking, deciding he didn’t need an escort back to his room. After all, no knowing how long this ‘moment’ might take.
When they had parted, John and Lilith agreed to meet at nineteen bells for dinner at a restaurant outside the Complex: better to be at least somewhat discreet. Now half past, John strode purposefully, trying to catch time that was already gone. Arriving at the designated rendezvous, he scanned the outdoor tables for Lilith, and when he didn’t see her, stepped inside quickly to repeat the process.
Unsuccessful, his posture changed dramatically, shoulders falling forward and head backward in disappointment. Taking a deep breath, he turned and stepped back outside, having no interest in eating alone. To his great relief and delight, he spotted Lilith hurrying down the street toward the restaurant. Now smiling, he walked to meet her.
Upon seeing him, Lilith slowed her pace and stopped, leaning over and putting her hands on her knees, breathing hard. As he approached, she looked up and smiled. “You have some long damn legs, John.” She paused for a breath. “I chased you all the way from the Complex, but couldn’t catch up.”
John laughed softly. “I’m sorry. I was worried I would miss you, so I was hustling. Are you okay?”
“Sure,” she replied, standing up, “but let’s sit down. My clothes, and especially my shoes, are more for show than for anything practical.”
Looking down, John saw that Lilith was wearing formal black leather shoes that completely enclosed her feet. They didn’t look specifically uncomfortable, so John was curious about Lilith’s comment. He gestured her over to the nearest open table, and when she had seated herself, he pointed at her shoe and made a ‘gimme’ motion. Lilith rolled her eyes and complied.
The shoes were cleverly designed, adding almost a full hand span of height without appearing to do so. Lilith’s toe would be only a bit above ground level while her heel was significantly elevated, but this wasn’t apparent without looking closely.
“You chose to wear these?”
Lilith nodded. “Every day. I had a cobbler in town design them based on some old pictures I found.”
“I don’t even understand how you can walk in those things. I would be constantly afraid of breaking my ankle.”
Lilith smiled and shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad once I got used to it. The real challenge is moving quickly, or on uneven surfaces. Or on slick surfaces. Or bumpy ones,” she finished, her voice trailing off. “But,” she started again with enthusiasm, “within the complex, they work really well.”
“Okay, but why bother?” Lilith gave him a reproachful look and he quickly rephrased his statement. “What I mean to say is that they’re nice looking shoes, and you look good in them, but wouldn’t you be happier with more comfortable ones?”
Lilith made a contemplative face, deciding on how best to answer the question. “Do you remember you told me that you didn’t really fit in while growing up? Like you were just different?” John nodded. “That’s how I feel every day at the Complex.”
“Really? Why? You do a great job, and you definitely hold your own.”
“Because I’m a woman. And because I’m literally half your size. Maybe, on a good day, a third of Pip’s size.”
“So what? The Executive Director is a woman, and nobody’s as big as the Adams.”
“But John, you don’t understand because you’re the biggest guy in every room. I’m not. In fact, I’m more than two standard deviations below the statistical norm: small even for a woman. When I wear these shoes, I’m on the short side, rather than actually being short. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.”
John shook his head. “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t really buy it. When you’re only half as tall as an Adam, how is a few fingers of height going to make a difference?”
Lilith gave John another look, this one telling him he was about to find out. “Stand up.” John pushed back his chair and stood. Lilith reached down and removed her other shoe. “Ready?” John gave her a skeptical smirk and nodded. Lilith rose and stepped up next to him.
John’s smirk disappeared. “Woah, you’re like, much shorter without the shoes. As in noticeably smaller.”
Lilith sat back down, not relishing her victory. She turned and looked to the side, eyes watering.
“Hey, Lilith, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, but John persisted. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to offend you. You were right that there’s a difference, but I’m still having trouble seeing why that’s so important.”
Lilith shook her head again and sniffed, still not looking at him. “Is it because you’re scared of somebody at the complex? Tell me who it is and I’ll make them sorry,” said John, popping his knuckles and then his back, as if limbering for a fight. Lilith snorted, despite herself.
“No, you goof,” she said, briefly looking at him before once again turning away.
“I know,” he said softly, “I was just trying to make you laugh.” John was thoughtful for a few moments.
“You want to be taken seriously, but you already are, which means this is a carryover from before you became director. Hmm… but you were old Johnson’s hand-picked successor for several cycles. Before that you were… something in Logistics, I think, and maybe Procurement before that? So, it had to be —
“Wait, have you been wearing shoes like these for more than twenty years?”
Lilith sniffed and nodded.
“My Lord, Lilith,” John said, moving his chair closer to her so that he could take her hand in his. “And all this because you are worried about people thinking less of you?”
“Not just worried, John,” replied Lilith as a tear slid down. “I’ve seen it my entire adult life. Being taller, bigger, is somehow seen as being smarter or more driven. It seems so stupid, but nobody gives me a second look when I go out in the city in regular shoes. They literally look right over me.”
John squeezed her hand until she turned to look at him. “Do you think it could have something to do with confidence? The Lilith I’ve come to know these past weeks demands attention. She’s confident, assertive, and as smart as anyone I’ve ever known. She’s a director, and a damned good one.
“Listen, Lilith, you taught me something tonight, so let me return the favor. Tomorrow, go to your office in the most comfortable shoes you own. If you see anyone giving you odd looks, give them that glower you used on me little while ago. You know, the one that could peel paint?” Lilith narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, that one,” said John smirking.
“I mean it, though. Push through the looks for a day and you won’t ever have to wear these damn things again,” he finished, holding up the shoe.
Lilith wiped her eyes with a napkin and took a deep breath, but found she couldn’t look in his eyes. “What about us?” she asked quietly.
John nudged her chin up. “Honestly, I have no idea…” he said seriously. “Because you’re the one with the plan: remember Act 2?”
Lilith smiled timidly. “Really? You don’t care that you’re so much bigger than me?”
“Well,” started John thoughtfully, “I’m not really sure how the, uh, logistics are going to work… but I’m looking forward to finding out. As for the rest, it’ll be nice to not be the one that everybody stares at when we walk into a room.”
Lilith reached over to smack John’s leg. “Hey, I meant because you’re so beautiful,” he said, rubbing the spot dramatically. Lilith gave him a skeptical look, but he just nodded back, slowly mouthing ‘you are hot’.
After rolling her eyes, Lilith took a deep breath and re-centered herself. “Thanks, John.”
John shrugged. “No problem. I didn’t tell you anything that isn’t true.
“So, dinner?” Lilith nodded and John waved over the waiter, who had been graciously giving them time to complete their discussion.
After the meal, which included easier conversation, the two walked back to the Complex at a more sedate pace than either had left. In the first logistical puzzle of the evening, they found that their height differences prevented holding hands in a traditional manner, but a quick shift of their grips solved the issue.
Later that night, the size difference proved more challenging. Fortunately, Lilith’s natural competitiveness and confidence returned, and the new couple thoroughly enjoyed the problem solving process.
Chapter 13
Early afternoon two days after the match found Pip outside a row house deep in the Second Quarter. With him were Rosie and Maggie, one on each side, their schedules having been cleared for the foreseeable future. Both were dressed in warm weather dresses, Rosie in pink and Maggie in pale yellow; their hair had been lightly styled and accent makeup applied. Maggie looked bubbly, bouncing from foot to foot, while Rosie was more reserved, it being her first time outside the Complex since she first sought refuge. Pip himself was attired in a tight black short-sleeved shirt so that his tattoos would peek out of the sleeves and neck. Black pants and loafers completed his outfit, giving him a casual, functional, not-to-be-trifled-with appearance.
Playing the role of bodyguard and standing at the rear, John was dressed more professionally, complete with formal shoes and jacket, also in black. Realistically, they all knew that Pip didn’t really need additional protection in the city, but it was the easiest way to explain John’s presence. At the fore was Lilith, dressed severely in black with her hair pulled back tightly; together, she and John lent the group an air of authority.
As intended, the first impression they made on the young woman that opened the door was overwhelming. Her name was Bonnie Madison and she already looked haggard, as could be expected. After all, she was recently widowed with two small children, who had thankfully been sent to a relative’s residence for the duration of the visit.
After gaping for a moment, she recovered enough to invite them inside to join several waiting family members. Ducking and turning sideways to enter the house, Pip found a space along a wall and sat with his legs crossed beneath him, trying to reduce his intimidating presence. Even so, the family — Bonnie, an old man, and a younger couple — took their respective turns to gawk. Pip just looked from one to the next with a neutral expression, acknowledging them in turn with nods of his head.
Chairs were quickly brought for the ladies, once again on either side of Pip; Lilith and John remained standing, the latter fortunately being able to stand at his full height. When Mrs. Madison settled herself, Lilith began before silence could become awkward.
“Mrs. Madison, my name is Lilith Collins. I am a director at the Complex, and am the one that reached out to you yesterday.” Nodding to Pip, she said, “You saw Adam Piper during the match. With him are his companions, Ms. Rosaline Smythe and Ms. Magdalena Samuel.” The ladies nodded when their names were mentioned.
For Pip and Rosie, creating full names was an odd experience, neither having had use for such things in the past. In the end, Lilith convinced them that it would make it easier for the families to relate to them, so they went along.
“Our companion,” Lilith continued, “is Mr. Rogers, who is here to ensure our safety.” John continued to stand stoically, hiding any sort of expression behind dark glasses. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us. I fully understand the death of your husband put you in a terribly difficult situation, which is ultimately why we are here.” The woman seemed unsure, but nodded.
“We are not here to discuss the events of two days ago, but to discuss the future –”
“You mean to buy us off!” interrupted the old man, who was standing along the rear wall. Lilith turned her head sharply toward the man, the force of her glare stopping his protest before it could gather momentum.
After pausing several heartbeats for maximum effect, she continued, speaking directly to the young mother. “It may be difficult to understand right now, but Mr. Piper admires that your late husband stood up for himself. He may not look it to people our size, but Mr. Piper is the smallest man to enter the Complex’s combat pool in the last decade, and has had to fight for everything he’s earned.” At this, the woman turned to openly gawp at Pip, finding such a statement difficult to process. Playing his part, Pip nodded in confirmation.
Lilith waited for maximum effect before continuing. “Ultimately, the late Mr. Madison made a poor decision, and we find ourselves together today.
“It is not our intention to ‘buy you out’, as has been suggested,” said Lilith, pointedly not looking at the old man, “but to provide a path to success for both you and your children. Are you interested in hearing more?”
The woman, Bonnie, looked at the strangers in front of her. As designed, her attention was drawn not to Pip, but to the colorfully dressed women, who both smiled warmly at her. When her eyes met Rosie’s, the young woman gave her an encouraging nod. Unexpectedly, Bonnie turned to Pip, rather than answering Lilith’s question. “Mr. Piper?”
“Please, call me Pip.”
Clearly surprised, Bonnie recovered quickly. “Mr. Piper, are you sorry for what happened?”
Lilith was ready to interject, but Pip responded immediately. “I’m sorry that the situation happened, but I am not sorry for my actions, if that is what you are asking. For every behavior there is a natural consequence. The result of attacking a trained killer – and that is what I am – is going to be severe. Your husband agreed to meet me in single combat and lost. There is no shame in that; quite the opposite, actually, so I bear him no ill will, but I will not apologize for the result.”
This was not what Bonnie expected, and she sat back as if stung.
“Mrs. Madison,” Pip continued, “I did not expect the match to go as it did, or I wouldn’t have agreed to participate in the first place. Like your husband, I can’t take back my actions, but I can help you and your children.”
“Alright, Mr. Piper,” said the widow, anger now showing on her face, “what exactly do you think you can do?”
“When your husband agreed to face me alone, he showed legitimate courage. I was clearly bigger, stronger, and faster than anyone on the pitch, and yet he stepped forward. It doesn’t matter that he was holding knives; the truth is that he posed little real threat to me.” Pip paused and then looked away, as if remembering. “That said, he did manage to cut me, and deeply at that.” Pip raised his shirt, showing that his ribs were bandaged. “I didn’t expect that. Your husband had real skill. I don’t know if that will make this situation easier for you, but you can be proud of him for that, at least.”
Through tears the woman looked at Pip. “He was always practicing with those damned things. I told him it would get him killed.”
“Ironically,” replied Pip, “it’s also what brought us here today.” The woman obviously didn’t understand, so Pip continued. “I’ve seen professional fighters with less fortitude than your husband. That is very important for this city, and it needs to be encouraged.”
At this point, Lilith stepped in, as if the entire aside with Pip had been planned. “Mrs. Madison, when one of the men in our program is killed, we take care of their family. Mr. Piper has asked that we treat your family as if your husband had been killed while training at the Complex.”
This statement took a moment to register, then Bonnie’s eyes opened wide as she realized the implications. “You mean…”
Yes,” replied Lilith. “Your needs will be provided for, for the rest of your life. Your children’s as well, until they reach adulthood. Should you desire it, we will also find a place for you at the Complex, although you would be required to work if that is your choice.” Lilith went on to explain the details to the astonished young mother.
“What’s the catch?” asked Bonnie when Lilith had finished.
Lilith paused again for effect before continuing softly. “You know the catch, Mrs. Madison. Your family has already paid the price.”
“Oh!” Bonnie replied flustered. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
“I know: I just wanted to make it clear that this is a ‘no strings attached’ offer. You are welcome to accept or not. You are free to talk to others, get advice, say whatever you want about me, my colleagues, or the Complex in general. There are no conditions for accepting, nor reprisals for declining.”
“And the other families from Danny’s team?”
“The same,” stated Pip. “Your husband was part of a team, and they deserve to be treated with the same respect.”
“And the other teams?”
“The family of the man that was killed from the other Second Quarter team will receive the same offer,” answered Lilith. When it became obvious that she had said all she would on that topic, Bonnie leaned back in her seat, trying to digest the information.
When the silence had lingered a little too long, Maggie sat forward. “Mrs. Madison, speaking for Rosie and I, it gives us piece of mind to know that if something awful happens to Pip, we won’t have to worry about housing, or food, or money. It means that we can have children without being afraid of –”
“Wait,” interrupted Bonnie. “You’re both his wives?”
Rosie blushed and looked down, clearly embarrassed, but Maggie wasn’t flustered at all. “Not exactly, but we are his official partners. The Adams, that is, the fighters in the Complex, don’t marry. We take care of him, and he… well, he does the same for us,” Maggie finished with a wink and a smirk.
Bonnie looked down and blushed. “Is that usual?” she asked softly, not looking up.
Maggie laughed good naturedly and moved her chair over next to Bonnie, gesturing Rosie to do the same. The three women were soon engaged in a whispered conversation, their heads near one another in a conspiratorial manner. As time passed, Lilith looked to Pip, who shrugged and mouthed ‘no idea.’
After more than a quarter bell, during which there were both tears and short bursts of quiet laughter, the trio broke apart with hugs. Bonnie didn’t trust herself to speak, so she looked to Lilith and nodded, and although tears were slowly moving down her cheeks, she was smiling.
“Now wait a minute!” shouted the same old man from before.
This time it was Bonnie who responded, yelling back through her tears. “Shut your mouth, Roger! This is my decision, and you will say nothing more about it, or so help me you will never see your grandchildren again.”
The old man’s eyes went wide, shocked. Once again put in his place, he closed his mouth and sat down.
Turning back to Lilith, she motioned politely to the door, and walked outside with her visitors. Now under better control, she shook Lilith’s hand. “Thank you, Director Collins. It means a lot to me that the future isn’t quite as bleak as it seemed this morning.” She turned to Pip, looking up as he towered above her. “And thank you… Pip… for making this possible. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your intervention.” Pip smiled warmly and her hand disappeared in his as they shook.
Walking back to the transport, Lilith was pleased. “Nice job, ladies. You did a wonderful job comforting her.”
“It wasn’t actually that hard,” replied Maggie. “It turns out that her husband wasn’t all that great a guy. Lots of alcohol, some drugs, not much intimacy. She was mostly scared of what would happen to her kids if they grow up around the Complex. She doesn’t want them to be fighting and playing violent games like their father did while he was growing up. For what it’s worth, that’s what would have happened if they moved in with the old crankpot, which was their only choice before we showed up. So we just reassured her that life at the Complex isn’t all violence and gore.
Maggie looked up at Pip. “It didn’t hurt that she’s had a thing for Pip since she saw him shirtless on his motorcycle.”
“Really?” asked John.
“Um huh,” replied Maggie laughing. “She asked if there are more like him.” Pip let out an exasperated sigh while John smacked his forehead and Lilith grinned.
Rosie sidled up to Pip and rested her head on his side, fortunately below the level of his injured ribs. “She’ll be disappointed,” said Rosie, “there’s no one in the world like Pip.”
By the end of the week, the five of them had visited all six families on their list; one of the dead men had been a life long bachelor, and the final man was from the Third Quarter West team. Of the six, four had accepted Lilith’s offer during the visit, and one a day later. In total, four widows, a long-time girlfriend, and 9 children would benefit from the program put in place.
The meeting with the final family on the list did not go as intended, diverging sharply from the start. Rather than the widow answering the door, a large, gruff man in late middle age barged out immediately, followed by three equally large men. They all had similar features, especially a broad, pronounced nose, making it evident they were related. Lilith immediate stepped back to John while Pip gently pulled Maggie and Rosie behind him, stepping forward himself.
Although the men were well above statistical norm for the city, none of them were within two hand spans of John’s height, so that they were all momentarily stunned by the two massive newcomers. Undeterred, the first man out, probably the dead man’s father, soon began shouting obscenities, accusing Pip of cowardice, deceit, dishonesty, and a host of other things.
Lilith, knowing that such a scene was a possibility, had prepared the others to leave on quick notice. She gave Pip the signal to leave and turned, but he shook his head and motioned through the doorway with his chin, fully ignoring the vitriol being directed his way. Sitting in the first room was a petite woman, filthy and crying softly, with a deep bruise on one eye and second on the opposite cheek. Her shirt was torn at the shoulder and she was barefoot.
Seeing that he was not being heard, the man shouting stepped forward to push Pip with both hands, something that probably worked to intimated smaller men; he didn’t see John move and was lying on his back before either hand made contact. With the wind knocked out of him, the diatribe momentarily ceased, and Pip seized the moment, pointing to the closest of the younger men. “You. Is that the widow of Matthew Frazier?” The man clearly didn’t want to answer, but his courage only held for a few heartbeats before he nodded. While still looking at the man, Pip addressed the women behind him. “Director Collins, ladies, please go speak with Mrs. Frazier. Mr. Rogers and I will stay outside.” Lilith, Rosie, and Maggie quickly followed Pip’s instructions, trusting his intuition.
Meanwhile, the older man picked himself up and resumed his tirade. This time, however, he did it from a greater distance.
Although this was a Second Quarter neighborhood, it was on the border with the Third Quarter, and the standard of living was not as high as the others they had visited. Trash was present on the sidewalks and in the gutters, graffiti adorned many surfaces, and people loitered up and down the street. Not surprisingly, a small crowd had soon gathered around the men, who still stood just outside the house. Once the crowd was sufficiently large, the older man started pandering to them, trying to rile them up. John and Pip, once again dressed in black, continued to stare at the Frazier men, taking no other action. This only further enraged the oldest, whose volume increased while the coherence of his arguments did the opposite.
After nearly a full bell, Lilith emerged to see a large crowd had gathered. Some looked angry, but most seemed intent to see a spectacle of some kind, so long as it provided entertainment. Lilith walked up to Pip and spoke directly into his ear. Understanding that something had changed, the crowd quieted. This surprised the older man, whose stream of hate finally trailed off.
When Lilith finished what she had to say, Pip looked at her and nodded. Lilith herself turned to the door and gave a short whistle. Shortly thereafter, Rosie and Maggie emerged, each carrying a small bag. Between them was Mrs. Frazier, now wrapped in a blanket. The young woman kept her head down as she exited, not making eye contact with the four men that had come from the house nor her neighbors. Upon seeing her, the older man exploded, surging forward, only to be harshly checked a second time by John’s hand in his sternum. This time, the younger men also reacted, each producing a baton from somewhere under their shirts and stepping forward. John didn’t flinch at the pending conflict, standing his ground and looking at the men without expression.
Pip tapped John on the shoulder and motioned for him to step aside with a flick of his head. “I didn’t come here for a fight,” Pip said, addressing the men, “but what I have seen here today from you four disgusts me. If Matthew Frazier was of the same stock, then the city is better off without him.” The older man shouted in rage, pulling a knife from his boot and charging forward, followed closely by the other three. The entire altercation lasted exactly long enough for Pip to take one step, throw three punches, and then a final kick. Turning away, Pip and John joined the women and walked back to their transportation. Not surprisingly, the encircling crowd quickly parted to let them pass.
As the group of six travelled to the Complex, Lilith introduced Rachel Frazier to John and Pip. The woman was sitting between Rosie and Maggie, who were each holding one of her hands. She didn’t say anything, but did make eye contact with both of the men briefly before returning her eyes to the floor. Looking around the interior of the transport vehicle, Pip received a ‘well done’ nod from Lilith and a bright smile from Maggie; Rosie was focusing on her charge, whispering encouragement in the woman’s ear.
When they arrived, the three young women disembarked without conversation. When they were out of hearing, John looked to Lilith. “I can guess some of it, but what’s the story?”
Lilith nodded. “Matthew was apparently the golden boy of the family: bigger, stronger, meaner than the rest, and you saw what they were like. My guess is that Rachel got involved with him when they were too young, and ended up trapped. When her husband was killed the brothers took it out on her, although I can’t think of a single reason why that makes sense.
“Regardless, if we would have walked away, that poor girl would still be with them. I don’t think it would have turned out well for her.” John shook his head sadly.
“We have a place for her?” Pip asked.
“We will. Right, John?”
“Sure. Let’s give her a day or two to get cleaned up and acclimated a bit, then we’ll see what she wants to do. My guess is that she is tougher than she looks, given that she survived that family of thugs. I can think of a couple places that could work well here.”
“Not another PET girl?” asked Lilith, raising her eyebrows.
“No,” John replied seriously. “Probably too much past trauma to be around guys getting beat up all the time, but maybe with Logistics or Purchasing: tenacity plays really well there. If not, she may be good with kids, or have talent in research. We’ll make it work. With more than a thousand people here, finding a fit shouldn’t take too long.”
“What about the men today?” Pip asked. “Do we need to take care of other wives or children?”
Lilith shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Rachel gave me the impression that she was always the outsider. It sounds like the other women in that family were almost as bad as the men.”
“What about the crowd?” John questioned. “Any concerns?”
“Not really. When the constables come by, I expect they’ll get a more or less accurate account of Pip defending himself from a group of four armed men. With that many witnesses, the truth almost always comes out. I’ll give the Meister’s Office another head’s up, but that’s it.”
“Okay,” replied Pip. “I’m glad we’re done with this: it was more difficult than I expected.”
“Sure it is, Pip. This is about peoples’ lives, and that always makes it harder. Unfortunately, there’s really no way to learn how trauma and tragedy affect people except by seeing the aftermath.” Lilith paused, thinking. “I will tell you one thing that I learned…” Pip raised his eyebrows, encouraging her to continue. “You have exceptional taste in women. Rosie and Maggie are something special.”
Pip smiled broadly, turning to head into the Complex himself. “You’re absolutely right, Director Collins, but I already knew that.”
Lilith and John watched him go, standing in companionable silence. Looking down, he found that she was already looking up at him, so he held out his hand, which she quickly took. “I’m really proud of him. It shouldn’t be possible for him to surprise me anymore, but the way he handles himself, he’s just…”
“I know, John,” Lilith replied, squeezing his hand. “You love him like a son.”
John took a breath and nodded. “That shouldn’t be a revelation. I’ve spent more time with him during his life than most fathers with their kids.”
“Yeah, but…” Lilith prompted.
John smiled indulgently. “Yes, but other handlers don’t have the same relationship with the Adams. I know, Lilith. Do you think he’d be better off if I stepped back and gave him some space? He’s got the girls now, and like you said, they’re really good for him.”
Lilith shook her head, replying, “No, Honey. I’m not going to argue that the Effect is a result of your relationship, but I think Pip’s empathy came from you. Maybe his perseverance as well. He’ll be better off with Rosie and Maggie in his life, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still need your guidance.”
John squeezed her hand and let out the breath he had been holding.
“Thinking about Pip and the girls,” John paused dramatically and raised an eyebrow, “how are you doing after last night?”
Lilith snorted and shook her head, recalling their fifth consecutive night together. “Lord help me, I don’t know how I’m still standing. Everything from my shoulders down is sore. I think I strained a muscle in my back, and if you so much as suggest touching me again tonight I’m going to go get Max to pull your arms off.”
John smirked, feeling very proud of himself. “So… good?”
Lilith smiled back fondly. “Um huh. But I really do need to recover before we do any more experimenting.” She turned and walked toward the Complex, “So tonight it’s my turn to play.” John grinned broadly. “I just need to go by my suite to pick up a few things to help me take care of you properly.”
“Wait, what?”
Chapter 14
Within a week, routine had returned for Pip: training, sparring, spending time with the girls. The only significant change from the time before his adventure on the pitch was that he began to see Bonnie Madison and Rachel Frazier around the Complex with increasing frequency, almost always together.
This was a bit odd, given that neither had specific reasons to be near the Adams’ dormitories or training facilities. Upon being asked, Rosie and Maggie immediately assumed their ‘caught red handed’ looks: Rosie looking down and blushing while Maggie folded her arms and looked smug.
“Okay, spill it,” Pip said, looking at Maggie.
Maggie’s smirk widened as she shook her head. “Uh uh, it wasn’t me this time. Ask Ms. Innocent over there.”
Rosie gave Maggie a dirty look, then sat up and looked at Pip. “It’s not really anything worth talking about.” Pip raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Really. You’re the one that brought them here, so they’re both grateful, and seeing you gives them something they can hold onto when everything else is new.”
“And this was their idea? Both of them?”
Rosie sighed and slouched back down in her chair. “Sorta, I guess. They already knew each other, at least a little bit, so they’ve spent a lot of time together since Bonnie and her kids arrived. I guess it was a couple days after Rachel? Anyway, I had a meal with them the other day, and they started asking me questions about life here. That led to talking about you, and I may have given them a few more details than I maybe should have…” said Rosie, trailing off.
“Like what?” asked Pip
Rosie shrugged. “Nothing too bad, I promise. I told them about how kind you are, and how good you are to Maggie and I. I explained some about the program; the little bit I know anyway. I described your days, how you’re always training, and then how Maggie and I cheer you up.” Pip’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not what I meant,” corrected Rosie quickly. I just meant that I told them we spend time with you, fix up your scrapes and scratches, that kind of thing.”
“And you didn’t talk about, uh, the more intimate parts of our relationship?”
“Not on purpose. I mean, Bonnie asked, but all I told her was that you treated us very well.”
Pip looked over to Maggie, who was smiling, enjoying seeing her friend on the hot seat. Even so, she decided to intervene. “Come on, Pip, ease up on her. Those girls think a lot of you, and I’m pretty sure Bonnie would be your Third in a heartbeat.”
“Is that a thing?” asked Pip, shocked.
“Not that I know of,” replied Maggie, “but there’s a first time for everything.”
Pip narrowed his eyes, then stuck out his tongue, which looked especially ridiculous given his size. Maggie just smiled back.
Pip shook his head, then looked back at Rosie. “Okay, so maybe a little bit of hero worship. Is that all?”
Rosie nodded. “I think so. Bonnie will be fine. She’s pretty resilient, and she’s already asked Madame Bower if she can join us in PET.” Rosie forestalled Pip’s objection with her hand. “She won’t be working with us, so you’re safe from her. Actually, she has a wonderful heart, and also wants some adventure in her life, so I think it’s a good fit. What do you think, Mags?”
The other woman nodded her agreement. “She’ll do well. We have to work on her expectations a bit, but we already talked with Ruth and gave her a heads up about her fixation on you. She didn’t think it would be a big problem, given that you haven’t really spent any time with you, so it’s more the idea of you than anything else.”
“Gee, thanks,” Pip replied, but without malice.
“No problem,” replied Maggie brightly with a wink.
“And Rachel Frazier?”
“Well, she’s not so simple…” started Maggie.
“Actually, Pip, I am kind of glad you brought this whole thing up,” said Rosie. “I’m pretty worried about Rachel. When we’ve gotten together, she is very quiet and only really speaks when spoken to. She doesn’t volunteer information, and it’s like pulling teeth to actually learn anything about her.
“She hasn’t found a job here yet, so as far as I know she just wanders around.”
“Same for me,” volunteered Maggie. “She needs something constructive to do to fill her time, but I don’t know what to suggest.”
Pip nodded. “Alright, I’ll talk with John and see if he can help.”
Unfortunately, John didn’t have any more luck getting Mrs. Frazier to open up than the girls, despite his best efforts. Another week had passed and Pip continued to see her around the complex, now always alone. Thinking about it, Pip had only seen Bonnie once more, which made sense because she was busy learning her new responsibilities, together with taking care of her children.
The next time Pip saw Rachel, he was eating alone at the edge of the main courtyard, as usual. When their eyes met, he motioned her over and gestured for her to sit while raising his eyebrows in questioningly.
She moved over quickly and sat down gracefully, setting her own food on the grass next to her. “Thank you. I was trying to work up the courage to ask if I could join you.”
“Oh yeah?” responded Pip, surprised. “Am I that scary?” he asked with a smile.
“No, not really,” she said quietly, holding eye contact. “I just wanted to make a good impression, and hadn’t come up with a way to say hello without seeming awkward. It’s been two weeks and I haven’t said anything to you since you brought me here. I didn’t know where to start.”
“Well, no need to worry anymore. So, now that you’re here, is there anything specific you wanted to talk about?”
Rachel nodded. “Actually, yes, two things. The first is that I wanted to thank you for bringing me back with you. I won’t ever be able to express how much it means to me that you stood up for me.”
Pip nodded. “I can sympathize, at least a bit, with what you went through, so I will tell you two things of my own.” Rachel tilted her head, curious, and Pip smiled broadly. “The first is: you are welcome.” Rachel returned his smile. “Second, you’re worth it.”
Rachel’s smile faltered. “How can you tell?” she asked timidly.
“Well, I wouldn’t leave anybody in such a bad situation, if I could help it.” Rachel looked down while nodding, “but there’s something about you specifically that was worth fighting for.”
“Really?”
Pip nodded. “I don’t know how to say it without sounding cliche, but I saw something in your eyes when I looked through the door. Some strength, or… I don’t know what, but it spoke to me.”
Rachel’s eyes were wet when she looked up again. “Thank you,” she said, almost whispering. She took a deep breath, calming herself. They ate together, not talking, but without any awkwardness.
After some time, having finished the small portion of food she had brought with her, she turned to look at him again. “Would you like to hear the second thing I wanted to tell you?”
“Of course,” he replied.
Rachel took another centering breath, exhaling slowly. “I know what I want to do here in the Complex.” Pip encouraged her to proceed with a supportive look. “I want to be yours.”
Pip’s eyebrows shot up and he coughed, almost choking on his food. “Okay, that isn’t what I was expecting,” he said when he had recovered. “Can you explain?”
“Not really,” she replied, once again looking squarely into his eyes. “I just know that I want to be with you.”
“But you know that I’m with Rosie and Maggie, right?”
She nodded and smiled. “They’ve both been very nice to me. I think I could fill in where they can’t.”
“Um, okay. And where do you think that would be?” asked Pip, unsure of the direction the conversation had turned.
“I know they take care of your physical and emotional needs, so I could take care of the rest. Like making sure you have everything you need, setting up your daily schedule, getting your food and equipment ready: that kind of thing.”
Pip let out the deep breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding. “Oh… sort of like a personal assistant?”
“Exactly. What did you think I meant?”
Pip just shook his head slowly, “Never mind.”
They sat quietly again for a time while he considered her suggestion.
“Pip?” she asked uncertainly. He looked at her and nodded. “Is it okay that I teased you?”
Pip’s mouth opened just a little, but it took him a few moments to organize his thoughts. “So, you meant to make me think that you…”
She nodded meekly, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open, waiting for his verdict.
It was too much and Pip leaned his head back and laughed from deep in his belly. The sudden explosion of sound clearly surprised her, judging by the shock on her face. This just increased Pip’s laughter, with him eventually tilting over to lie on his back as he tried to get control on himself.
When he looked back to her again her arms were crossed and she was giving him a reproachful look, clearly not pleased with his reaction. This extended his laughing fit, but he couldn’t help it. When he finally calmed down, he held up a hand to forestall the outburst that he could see was building in her.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. I wasn’t laughing at you. Well, not intentionally. You just caught me so off guard. I can see I was absolutely right about you: there’s a lot under the surface.”
Rachel was somewhat mollified, but kept her arms crossed.
Pip smiled up at her from his back, “Well, if it were just up to me, sure.” Rachel’s eyes lit up excitedly, so Pip quickly continued, “but you need to talk with the girls. If you are going to be spending most of your time with us, it’s important that they are on board.”
Pip expected his caveat to dampen the young woman’s enthusiasm, but her broad smile remained in-place.
“Thank you so much, Pip,” she said, looking down at him. “I know you won’t regret this.” Then she leaned down and kissed him firmly right on his lips, pulling away just as he realized what was happening. Pip’s eyes showed his surprise.
“I’m going to go find the girls, like you said. I’ll meet up with you again once I have things straightened out.” Then she was walking quickly away, turning to wave once, happier than he had ever seen her.
Pip continued to lay on his back, staring at the sky, trying to figure out how he was going to cope with three women running his life. Would Rosie and Maggie hate him for sending her their way without warning? What if there was jealousy? Did he even need a personal assistant?
In the end, failing to find answers, he decided the best course of action was to let the women work it out, so he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
By the following day, some questions had resolved themselves. For one, the girls welcomed Rachel into the fold with open arms, so jealousy didn’t seem to be an issue. At least for the moment.
“But what do you need a personal assistant for?” John asked as they walked through the courtyard. “Even the directors don’t have them.”
Pip shrugged. “I don’t know: it wasn’t my idea.”
“What does that mean?”
Pip stopped walking. “I don’t know what it means. I could see an assistant being helpful for you, but for me? Max arranges my training schedule, you keep me pointed in the right direction, and Director Collins… well, she does whatever it is she does. I don’t know what’s left, but Rachel was so excited, I just kind of went along with it.”
“She does look happier. Actually, scratch that. She doesn’t just look happier, she actually looked happy when she ran off to get your lunch.
“Speaking of, it looks like she’s back,” John said, motioning with his chin.
Pip nodded and they adjusted their course to take them to where she was taking food off a cart and setting it onto an outdoor table. “Was this always here?” John asked, slightly confused as he approached.
Pip shook his head. “We sat on the grass yesterday.”
Rachel looked up and smiled. “I thought you might like to eat more comfortably, so I asked Mr. Wilkins to set up a table and chairs. We can sit in the grass again, if you like.”
John and Pip shared a look. “Wilkins, the Grounds manager?” asked John. Rachel nodded. “Older guy, skinny, white hair?” Rachel nodded again, giving him a curious look. “And he said ‘yes’?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?” Rachel asked, slightly confused.
John looked away for a moment. “Wilkins isn’t known for being the most, er, approachable of our colleagues. He cares more for his grass and bushes than for most of the people here.” He turned, motioning to the courtyard behind him. “Notice how there isn’t anything else here? No benches, no other tables. He doesn’t want them cluttering his lawn, or at least that’s what I always heard. So I’m just surprised that he allowed them, let alone put them here for you.
“How did you do it?”
Rachel tilted her head and shrugged. “I asked.”
Well,” said John, pausing, “I guess that would do it.”
The three gathered around the high table, Pip and John sitting on oversized stools while Rachel stood. Their meal consisted of meat, rice, and beans in a flour shells with a spicy green sauce, a first for both John and Pip, and their food was soon gone.
John folded his arms and looked suspiciously at the young woman. “I’ve been here my entire life, and I’ve never had this before.” His eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”
Rachel smiled brightly. “I talked with Madame Snow in the kitchen and asked her to make it.”
John looked to Pip and then back to her again. “Okay, I have questions. First, how did you get her to change the menu? Number two, why? And C: where did you get the recipe?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” John replied quickly. “I’m sorry for sounding cross. It’s just that she chased me out of her kitchen more than once with a wooden spoon when I was a boy. She’s never been anything but short tempered with me.”
“And what were you doing in the kitchen?” asked Pip with a smirk before Rachel could respond.
John narrowed his eyes at him, then waved dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. But really, Rachel, how did you get her to change the menu?”
“Oh, I didn’t. She made this just for us.”
“She what?” asked a shocked John.
Rachel smiled and nodded. “I went to speak with her yesterday afternoon, after Pip and I talked, and she invited me to stay for some tea. We talked about food, and the kinds of things I like to prepare. This is one of them because the ingredients are simple and readily available in the city.
“I told her I thought the high protein content would be important for Pip, and since I know he likes spicy food, it seemed like a good fit. She agreed to try, and here it is. Pretty good first attempt, don’t you think?”
“So she just… Okay, yes, it is very good. How long does it take to make this dish?”
“About three bells.”
“So she made this at the same time they were making lunch for everybody else?”
“Yes,” Rachel replied. “She said she was looking forward to trying something new, and she agreed that it might be good for the Adams, but didn’t want to change the whole menu on such short notice, so this is just a trial. If you both like it, which it seems you do, I’ll let her know and she’ll work it into the normal meal rotation.”
“That easy?”
Rachel nodded. “Yep, that easy.”
“And you just…”
“Um huh.”
John raised his finger to say something, and when it didn’t materialize on his lips, he lowered his finger again. “You know what, Rachel?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I think I have an opening for a personal assistant. Are you interested in the job?”
Rachel looked at Pip and smiled, then walked over to him, laying her head over onto his shoulder. “No thank you, Mr. Rogers. I think I’m where I am supposed to be.” Pip was surprised at the display of affection, but didn’t say anything.
John slowly waved his finger at her, “I think you might be right.” Spinning on his seat, he stood and then paused, “Thank you very much for lunch. It was delicious, and I would very much appreciate it if you give my compliments to Madame Snow. I would love to have this kind of thing on a regular basis.” John walked away across the courtyard, hands in his pockets, clearly deep in thought.
Pip raised his shoulder just enough to let Rachel know that he wanted to look at her. “How did you know I like spicy food?”
Rachel shrugged again. “You put pepper sauce on your food yesterday, and I saw you eating some of those spicy little purple peppers raw a few days before. I figured it was a pretty safe assumption.”
Pip sat quietly for a short while. “So you like working out this kind of thing?”
Rachel beamed at him. “Yes. I like feeling useful, and I like making things go smoothly. I know it doesn’t really matter that much compared to what you have to do, but if I can make your life easier, then I think it’s worth it.”
“And you think you can be happy here?”
Rachel nodded again. “As long as I can spend some time with you, I’ll be happy.”
Pip turned to face her fully, and took hold of one of her hands, which promptly disappeared in his grip. “Rachel, you barely know me. Why are you so focused on me?”
The young woman’s eyes started to tear up and she looked away. For several long moments she didn’t say anything, but rather than speaking, Pip just waited for her to be ready, gently rubbing circles on her wrist with his thumb. After a deep breath, she said, “I can’t really explain it to you, or even to myself. You saved me, so I know part of me is really grateful, but that isn’t all. I don’t have a schoolgirl crush, and I’m not trying to live out some fantasy…” Another pause after her words trailed off, this time longer.
“Do you believe in fate, Pip?”
Pip thought briefly, then replied honestly. “Not really.”
“Me neither.
“And yet, I have this feeling deep inside, in my stomach, in my bones, in my heart. I’m supposed to be here, with you, with Rosie, with Maggie. I had this moment of insight when I saw you through my door, even with my eye half swollen shut. It was almost like a… like… a flash? Not angels singing or anything quite so dramatic, but I saw you, and the purpose I’ve been looking for snapped into place. In the last weeks, that feeling, that moment, has been reinforced every time I see you.” Rachel looked down. “I know I am probably coming across as obsessive, especially since we’ve only talked three times, but it’s so obvious to me now. I can help you, and you can help others. Does any of this make even a little bit of sense to you?”
Pip looked away, staring off into the distance, turning over in his mind what she had said. “Actually, it does. When I was younger, I was always the smallest, and it wasn’t close. I still am for that matter. Most of the Adam’s are two or even three hands taller than me, and somehow, I knew it didn’t really matter. I never knew how, or why, but I knew… And now, I’m absolutely certain of it.”
Pip looked at Rachel seriously. “Rachel, there is a very good chance that I will go to fight for the city before very long. John thinks it will be before the end of the year. Do you know what that means?”
Rachel nodded.
“Then you know that there is an even chance that I won’t come back.”
Rachel smiled and shook her head. “I don’t believe that, Pip. You will come back, over and over again, and Rosie and Maggie and I will be waiting for you with open arms.”
“Rachel, that is a lovely thought, but…”
She silenced him with a kiss and was once again gone before he could react. That fact that she had done it twice in two days had him seriously questioning his fighter’s reflexes.
“Pip, I know how the fights work: it was almost all my husband talked about. I could name you the outcome of every fight for every city going back ten cycles.” Pip raised his eyebrows at this. “Really, I can,” she confirmed, “but that doesn’t matter at the moment. What matters is that you understand that I know — as in, I am absolutely certain — that you will not die in the Arena. You will do so much more than fight, and when your time really is over, the whole world will mourn.”
Pip let go of Rachel’s hand gently and leaned back, crossing his arms as he considered what she had said. “I really don’t know what to say to that, Rachel. I would say it doesn’t make sense, but some, uh, recent developments make it seem more plausible than it might have been in the past.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
Rachel nodded. “I know there is something about you that is different, Pip. It doesn’t really matter to me what that something is specifically, because I know that it is what sets you apart, not just from the other Adams, but from all of us. I saw it when my husband died, and I’ve seen it when you are training.”
Pip was once again quiet, and then nodded. “You’re right, of course, but it’s best if we don’t talk about it.”
Rachel smiled. “I don’t care what it is, Pip. I told you, it makes no difference to me. All I know is that I’m here to help you, and that’s enough.”
“What about us?”
Rachel raised her eyebrows suggestively, but Pip remained serious. “I mean it, Rachel. We barely know each other, and yet you’ve kissed me twice. I care deeply for Rosie and Maggie, and I won’t hurt them if I can help it. You’ve already shown that you can make my life easier, but I don’t need drama if that’s part of the package.”
Rachel’s expression was earnest as she replied. “I’m sorry, Pip. I was just showing how much I like you, and teasing you a bit at the same time. You did say that you don’t mind, right?”
“And that’s it?”
Rachel turned to the table and propped her chin on her hands. “I don’t know. I was in such a bad situation for so long, I really don’t want to think about relationships.” She turned to look at him. “Pip, I won’t get in the way of Rosie and Maggie, and I will not cause trouble. If something deeper develops over time naturally, then so be it, but I don’t have some goal in mind.”
After another pause, Pip asked, “How did the discussion with the girls go?”
Rachel smiled. “Fine. Maggie was enthusiastic and Rosie said ‘Thank the Lord’, so I assume she is okay with me helping.”
“No drama?”
“No drama,” replied Rachel reassuringly.
“So what now?”
“Now, you go to meet Mr. Max for the afternoon session. You’re already a quarter bell late, but I told him this morning that we needed to talk, and that I didn’t know how long it would take.”
Pip cocked his head and looked at her. “You mean you told him this morning about the conversation we just had?”
Rachel confirmed with a nod of her head.
Well,” Pip said, drawing out the word, “thanks. I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m not the only one at this table that is a little… different.”
Rachel gave another of her characteristic shrugs, but was grinning this time, so Pip smiled back. “Thank you for lunch. You were absolutely right about me enjoying it.”
Following in John’s footsteps, Pip walked casually across the courtyard, not hurrying because he apparently already had an excuse for being late.
Chapter 15
“Do you think I need a personal assistant?” John asked Lilith as they sat next to each other in his suite. Although hers was the bigger set of rooms, they always met at his place. John suspected that Lilith wasn’t comfortable with the idea of him seeing all of her secrets just yet, but didn’t mind, because his rooms were convenient and familiar.
“What is a personal assistant? Like somebody to do your laundry?”
“No, like… you know what, never mind. Just a passing thought.” Lilith raised her eyebrows, but didn’t push. “Listen, can we talk about Pip for a little bit?”
“Sure: you’re the one with the rule about not discussing Complex business in the evenings.”
“Okay, true, but this is important.” John took a deep breath before continuing, steeling himself for the pending argument. “I think it’s time to push for Pip to step into the Arena.”
Lilith’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and she let him wait for several heartbeats before responding. “How much do you know?”
John was taken completely aback. “Uh, nothing. What is there for me to know?”
Lilith remained silent as she weighed answers. Finally arriving at a conclusion, she started slowly. “Do you recall that there was a Council-only discussion yesterday?” John nodded. “This topic comprised the entire agenda. The meeting lasted four bells, and would have gone longer if the Executive Director hadn’t stepped in.”
John was barely breathing. “And?”
“And… Pip will fight in three weeks.”
“What?” shouted John, rising quickly to his feet. “That’s not enough time. And that means the fight with Marbelo! Why would they start him with one of the Big Three? Adams usually start with one of the smaller states.”
While John was animatedly going on, Lilith rose and gave him a hard stare. “John, stop.”
He didn’t stop immediately, but wound down quickly, collecting his thoughts. “Lilith, it just doesn’t make sense. I have more faith in Pip than anybody, and I mean that literally, but this is a big risk.”
Lilith sat back down and motioned with her head at the spot next to her. Once John was sitting, she relaxed some and softened her countenance. “John, you don’t have to argue with me. I was not in favor of this approach, but there are some very compelling reasons, which I will not go into now.” She cut off the protest forming on John’s lips with another stern look. “The directors went through all of the arguments, and this is where we landed. You will not change the Council’s decision, so it’s best to figure out what we can do to ensure Pip is successful.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“You will be, tomorrow, by Director Humbolt. I overstepped by telling you tonight, but I didn’t want to lie to you. And no, you don’t have to feign ignorance: just tell him that I told you tonight and saved him the hassle of arguing about it.”
John leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. Eventually, he sat up and looked to Lilith. “Can you tell me the main reasons? I don’t need to know, but it would help me get fully on-board.”
Lilith looked at him seriously before responding. “John, I will tell you, but you need to know that when I do, I am risking everything I have worked for over the last 20 years. If anyone on the Council learns that I told you, they will throw me out in the street. Do you understand?”
“Lilith… you don’t have to tell me.”
“Actually, John, I feel like I do. You need to be completely behind Pip on this, and if you are second guessing the motivation for the fight from the beginning, Pip will pick up on it.”
She took a deep breath, then began. “In the extreme Northwest of our territory, we have a mining camp that has been excavating limestone for a long time. The district in which this camp sits is bordered by Marbelo on the West, but since limestone isn’t particularly scarce, there was never reason for them to challenge for it. So why did they do so at the last forum?”
John shook his head, indicating he didn’t know.
“We didn’t know either, until we dug deeper, as in, by using mining equipment. We excavated several exploratory pits right at the border, and instead of limestone, we found iron. What’s more, the ore has more than 50% iron.”
John whistled appreciatively and Lilith nodded. “Now you’re starting to understand. It’s not a make or break challenge, but the winner will control the entire deposit, or at least everything we currently know about. We had planned to put a mid-tier Adam into the fight –”
“Lance” interrupted John without thinking.
Lilith barely paused before continuing. “That’s right, because we didn’t want to risk one of our top Adams on low value challenge. However…”
John nodded, satisfied. “I understand, and you’re right that there is a good reason. So why Pip and not Stash or Rix?”
“Well, that is probably Max’s fault. He’s kept Director Humbolt informed of Pip’s progress.” John nodded. “Apparently, Max is very, very impressed. He doesn’t know what you now know, but he made it clear to Director Humbolt that Pip is ready for the Arena. What’s more, he thinks Pip could beat the other two; I believe he said nine times out of ten.”
John continued nodding. “Okay, I’m on-board. The rub is that Pip is going to be going up against their best, or close to anyway. I’ll talk with Geo tomorrow, and then Max and I can start the final prep.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, so we have three weeks to prepare.
“Lilith, I’m afraid this is the time when my job is all-consuming. I won’t be able to see you very much in the run up to the fight — I hope you understand.”
Lilith smiled as she stood. “Of course, John. This is what all of the effort is about.” She pulled him down by his shirt front and gave him a sound kiss. “Good luck, and let me know if you need anything.”
John nodded and smiled, but she could tell that his mind was already elsewhere. As she reached the door, she felt his hand on her shoulder a moment before he turned her around and picked her up, kissing her again, this time much more passionately. “Thank you for trusting me. It means more to me than I can easily say.” He looked deeply into her dark eyes before giving her a final kiss and setting her down again. “Goodnight, Lilith.”
She smiled warmly. “Goodnight, Honey.”
When the girls found out, their reactions were mixed.
One might have thought that Maggie would be used to the Adams getting ready for fights, but this was the first time that her Adam would go to the Arena, and she was an absolute wreck. Gone were the bubbly personality and the carefree attitude, replaced instead with an almost obsessive need to be around Pip as much as possible.
Rosie was much calmer, having full knowledge of Pip’s altered perception of time. While she did have some growing anxiety as the fight approached, she found that the biggest issue to be tackled was comforting Maggie.
It turned out that Rachel was the one that broke through, with nothing more substantial than her unshakable faith that Pip would return. Maggie didn’t understand it, but it was the lifeline that she hung onto as the final days passed.
For Pip, it was essentially business as usual. The rigor of his training wound down dramatically so that his body would be fully rested for the fight. In place of sparring, he did cryotherapy. Weight and resistance training was replaced with deep tissue massages. Instead of the bed in his room, he slept in a hyperbaric chamber. All-in-all, Pip wasn’t finding fight preparations too bad at all.
The thing that bothered him the most was, oddly enough, that he wasn’t bothered by the prospect of the fight itself. If historical averages were to be believed, there was a fifty percent chance he would die during the fight. That should have made him anxious, or nervous, or scared, but it didn’t. He talked this through with John and Max, and subsequently received a long, stern lecture on overconfidence, but Pip didn’t think that was the issue. It was more like a general feeling of rightness. He was finally going to be able to do what he had been designed, born, and raised for, and that by itself was tremendously satisfying.
And, if Pip was being honest with himself, he was also looking forward to vindicating himself, and John, and all the others who had kept him in the program, despite his obvious physical limitations. So, as the day approached, Pip was quite content.
The day after John learned about Pip’s selection, so too did everyone else in the Complex. Many of the staff started finding excuses to be around wherever it was that Pip found himself. In particular, Pip found that the Courtyard was busier than he had ever seen it during midday as more and more people started eating outside.
At first, it was John and Rachel eating with him. When Maggie found out about the “lunch date”, she invited herself and Rosie to join. A week later, Max was called over when he happened to stroll by, and in the final week, Lilith began attending as well. Of course, other colleagues would join their group from time to time if they happened to be in the area. Oddly enough, thanks to some sort of pseudo-precognition that Pip couldn’t figure out, Rachel always had enough food.
By the time Lilith had joined them, it was common for more than seventy people to be sitting in the grass or standing at the ever increasing number of tables. Immediately after the announcement, it was evident that most of the conversation centered on Pip, given that people would sneak glances at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. After days of ignoring it, Pip became annoyed and decided to turn the tables. In the middle of lunch, he clamped down on the Effect and surveyed the field in front of him, spotting a middle aged woman looking at him over a half eaten sandwich. Without warning he stood up, knocking over his stool, and snapped his hand up to his face, pointing his first two fingers at his eyes while staring intensely at the woman in a classic ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. The woman’s mouth fell open and when he pointed at her, she dropped her sandwich.
It was only a moment before Pip dropped the stare and smiled at her, finishing with a wave before picking up his stool and resuming his meal. While he sipped his carefully prepared protein and mineral shake — the worst part of fight prep, in his opinion — the others stared at him with wide eyes. Except for John, who just shrugged and kept eating the newest offering that Rachel had gotten Madame Snow to prepare: stuffed peppers.
“What was that, Pip?” asked Rosie, alarmed.
“She was looking at me, but trying to be sneaky. I don’t care, but it bothered me that she thought she was getting away with it.”
“Makes sense,” John said. “You’re the talk of the Complex. Why wouldn’t they want to see you up close?”
“Yeah, but it’s the sideways glances, and the pretending to be looking at something over my head.
“John, I’m five or more hands taller than most people when I’m sitting down; there isn’t much that is over my head.”
John waved a fork full of food at Pip. “Fair enough, but is it really that bad?”
“Not really. I was just having some fun.” Pip grinned. “Did you see her face, though? I feel a little guilty about it, but it really was funny.”
Rosie punched him in the arm and gave him a stern look, then laid her head on his shoulder. “Meany.”
“I am not. Look, watch this.” Pip raised his arm, the one that Rosie wasn’t leaning on, and motioned for the woman to come over. After the third time motioning to her, she slowly stood and walked toward them, looking as if she was going to the Headmaster’s office. Pip smiled brightly at her and introduced himself and the others around the table, offering her some food, which Rachel quickly produced from the magic food dispenser on her cart. The woman apologized for being nosy, but Pip just waved it off, apologizing himself for startling her. In the end, she walked away with a smile and a stuffed pepper to replace the dropped sandwich.
“See, I’m not mean at all.”
“You better be, come fight time,” stated John matter-of-factly.
Maggie shot him a dirty look, then turned back to Pip. “How did you know she was looking at you?”
Pip shrugged noncommittally. “Peripheral vision.”
“Pip, she was almost all the way to your left. Nobody’s peripheral vision is that good.”
Pip smiled. “Well, mine is.” Maggie gave him her best ‘get over yourself’ look, which he returned with a smug grin.
“Prove it.”
Pip sat up. “Right now, there are…” Pip squeezed down on the Effect again momentarily to provide the time he needed to to examine the extreme edges of his vision. “…four people looking at me: the two women dressed in gray on my left, the big guy on my right who is pretending to be reading, and sandwich woman. Again.” Pip pointed as he spoke, clearly surprising the first three. Sandwich woman, whose name was Anna, waved back cheerfully, as did her two companions.
“Unreal,” said Maggie, astonished.
After that, it became a game. People in the crowd would sneak glances at Pip, and if he didn’t catch them, they would celebrate. If he did spot them, he would point at them, and if it was their first time being caught, would motion them over to introduce themselves. For the first several days, there was a lot of high-fiving, as it was incredibly difficult for Pip to eat (drink) his lunch, have a conversation, and play the ever evolving game. By the time Lilith joined them, it had been two days since Pip had missed someone, despite the larger crowd.
Lilith was absolutely baffled by what was going on. Every twenty heartbeats or so, Pip would point at somebody, and sometimes two somebodies, without pausing what he was doing. It was no more than a quarter bell when her patience ran out. “Enough! What is going on?” To John, she said, “Is he having a breakdown?”
Maggie quickly stepped in to explain what Lilith was seeing, followed by Max’s explanation of how Pip’s situational awareness had improved dramatically over the preceding week with the constant practice and multi-tasking. Now calm, Lilith’s only reaction was, “Huh, how about that?”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth when there came a whoop and the sound of hands smacking together. Pip stood up quickly, pointing at a man with a full brown beard about twenty paces to his left, who was standing smugly with four colleagues, all dressed in white lab coats. “Doug, you didn’t look anywhere near me. You were looking over…” Pip’s words trailed off as he turned further to look over his left shoulder, only to find another man in a lab coat holding a full length mirror and smiling. “Well, I didn’t think of that. Come get some food.”
Pip sat down while the six men jogged over, congratulating each other. The day’s prize was chocolate cookies, still warm from the oven. Rachel was completely in her element passing out the treats, which were handled with reverence by the recipients. “Are they really that good?” Lilith asked.
Maggie nodded. “Yep, and since Pip is getting so good at catching people, we’ve been getting the leftovers.” Pip just harumphed dramatically and continued sipping his pasty gray lunch, occasionally pointing out another hopeful.
Chapter 16
On the day before the fight, Pip said his goodbyes. Maggie was on the edge of tears, and Rosie was especially quiet, while Rachel gave him a cheerful wave. The biggest surprise of the morning was Director Collins, who gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug, before offering a quick word of encouragement.
With a smile for the ladies, perhaps his last, he turned and walked with John and Max to the transport that would take them to the Arena. As the armored vehicle rolled along, Pip still wasn’t afraid, but was certainly ready for the entire ordeal to be over, even though the official pre-fight requirements had not yet begun. “Any questions?” John asked.
Pip shook his head. “No. Max walked me through it a couple times, so I know what to expect. More or less, anyway.” John nodded and the trio spent the remainder of the three bell trip in silence.
As they disembarked, Pip got his first in-person look at the Arena. It was smaller than he expected given it’s importance to global politics, but that didn’t make it less impressive. The entire structure was almost white, constructed of poured concrete. Directly in front of him was an entrance adorned by Rieckenberg’s flag, tall enough that Pip could have ridden through on Max’s shoulders without ducking. Not that he would ever do such a thing, but the thought did turn up the corner of his mouth.
On the opposite side, his adversary would enter through an identical entrance draped with the Marbelo colors, and in-between was only the Arena, a small control room, and separate waiting rooms for each fighter’s support staff. In Pip’s case, this consisted of Doctor Shepard and an assistant, who would arrive shortly before the fight.
After his brief appraisal, Pip held out his hand to Max, who shook it firmly, looking Pip squarely in the eye before giving him a nod, which Pip returned. Pip turned and offered his hand to John, who looked at it for a moment, then back up at Pip.
“Good luck, Pip,” said John as he stepped forward to give Pip a hug. If Pip was surprised, he didn’t show it, and returned the hug with only minimal awkwardness. “I’m not giving you a kiss.” Pip smiled and nodded, then started walking toward the door, clapping John on the shoulder as he walked past.
When he was gone from sight, John and Max stood side by side, not yet ready to go back to the city, the smaller man rubbing his now tender shoulder. “I think he did that on purpose.”
Max nodded. “Probably. Maybe he figures it’ll be something for you to complain about when you see him tonight.”
John nodded without enthusiasm. “Real opinion time, Max. Do you think he has a chance?”
Max responded immediately. “Better than just a chance. I can’t get near him anymore. I know I’m a step slower than I used to be, but even in my prime I wasn’t that fast. And for a little guy, he hits hard.” He took a deep breath. “Do you know the expression ‘a puncher’s chance’?” John nodded. “That’s what we’re hoping against. Whoever he’s staring across at will probably be half again as big as he is, and if any one thing goes wrong, that could be the end of it.” Max let that unpleasant thought hang in the air for several heartbeats before continuing. “But to be honest, John, Pip is as close to a sure things as I’ve ever seen.”
Inside the Arena building, Pip came to a closed steel door. On the wall next to the door was a shiny steel sign with instructions.
Disrobe and leave your clothing and belongings below this sign. Then pull open the door and enter the room in front of you. Close and latch the door, then look for additional instructions.
Pip complied and found a longer list inside, preceded by a strongly worded statement.
Notice: In this examination room, full compliance with contest regulations will be ensured. Violations will result in immediate disqualification from the contest and death for the competitor.
1) All waste is to be deposited directly onto the grate in the corner marked Waste. Failure to deposit both liquid and solid waste prior to the contest will be considered a violation.
2) A blood sample is to be deposited directly into the tube in the alcove marked Blood. Using the provided razor blade, fill the tube completely. Failure to deposit an adequate amount of blood will be considered a violation.
3) Sustenance is available in the alcove marked Sustenance.
4) Water is available in the alcove marked Water.
5) The time until the contest is shown on the Timer.
6) When the Timer reaches zero, the door marked Arena will open and the contest will begin.
Pip quickly took care of the required samples, finding that a small nick on the bottom of his hand provided more than enough blood, which was whisked away through the wall as soon as it reached the fill line on the designated tube. Just to be sure, Pip filled the tube again, but nothing more happened. With the proscribed activities completed, Pip sat down for what the Adams referred to as ‘The Long Wait’. For Pip, this amounted to just over six bells before the door would open, and he found himself wishing that his ability to affect time could also be used to make it pass faster.
Pip tried to sleep, but the floor was cold and hard, so instead he meditated, reflecting on his life. He spent a long time thinking about his girls, Rosie and Maggie, and the way their relationship came together so quickly. He considered Rachel and Director Collins, Max and John. Thinking of John standing outside the Arena, dead serious, rubbing his arm, Pip couldn’t help but smile.
When the Timer reached two bells, Pip was at peace and had no trouble falling into his familiar long-form stretching routine.
With half a bell to go, Pip began to elevate his heart rate with a tailored plyometrics sequence.
As the final time trickled away, Pip’s skin was damp, his heart was thumping, and his mind was blank. Then the door opened and he strode through, knowing that it would only stay open for a short while, and was in the Arena for the first time.
The Arena itself was circular and fifteen of his paces across, with straight walls going up to just higher than he could reach and then coming together to form a dome. It was entirely white, and entirely empty, save for his opponent, who was already charging across the room at him.
Pip quickly used the Effect, slowing time so that the man was barely moving. Naked like himself, the man was at least as big as Max, and likely broader, with bulging arms and thighs. The man had a professional, determined look in his eyes, like you might find in an assassin. ‘Apropos’, thought Pip, given their shared profession.
Pip let time move forward more quickly and began to close the distance himself.
For Pip’s opponent, this must have been a dream scenario. The man across from him was clearly a runt, probably chosen as a sacrifice given the low apparent value of the disputed territory. So when he saw Pip obviously telegraph an initial punch with his right hand, he knew instinctively that it had to be a feint, and decided instantly to absorb the blow while using his superior body mass and strength to win the fight. In a feat of tremendous athleticism, the Marbelan launched himself forward at Pip’s midsection, arms wide, while they were still half a dozen strides apart.
In the moment before impact, Pip clamped down on the Effect again as hard as he was able. Seeing that he could not step aside, Pip immediately began a slide, betting that his adversary could not adjust in time. As the giant slowly moved past, Pip pivoted on his left hip and knee, driving his fist into the larger man’s rib. As with Hammer and Ranger, Pip hit his target and bones broke.
Pip allowed time to speed up again and finished the slide by turning onto his front and then pushing into a standing position in one fluid motion. The other man pushed up to his hands and knees, but couldn’t go further as he coughed and wheezed, spitting up blood all the while. Looking down at his hand, Pip did not see any bone protruding, but strongly suspected he had cracked the last two fingers. Watching his opponent crawl and gasp, Pip also suspected that a rib had punctured the man’s lung, but not proceeded so far as the heart, which explained why he was still alive.
Fights lasted a full bell, after which the doors opened and the support teams would come in to learn the outcome. If both combatants were still alive, in any condition, the contest would be declared a draw. For the benefit of the fighters, the progress of time was denoted by color projected onto the ceiling, changing from white to blue to yellow to red at each quarter hour.
Given that the initial charge had brought them to this point, Pip saw no reason to risk further injury by trying to finish his opponent, and let the man expire on his own. Given, it wasn’t a humane death, but this wasn’t a humane contest, and Pip felt neither sympathy nor remorse.
As the ceiling changed to red, Pip moved close enough to verify that the other man was dead, and then began the gruesome task of concealing the victorious blow. All of the corpse’s ribs were broken, its pelvis smashed, and skull crushed. A skilled doctor was still likely to determine that a badly punctured lung had caused death and that the other injuries were posthumous, but there was no reason to make the autopsy easy.
When time expired and the doors opened, the support staffs rushed in, having obviously been waiting just on the other side of both doors, each followed by an official dressed in gray, there to verify the life or death of the competitors.
“Okay, Pip?” asked Doc, clearly relieved.
“Sure, Doc. How about you?”
Doctor Shepard was taken aback momentarily, then smiled. “Do you need anything immediately?”
“No, it can wait until we are on the way back.”
Pip turned to the doctor’s assistant, a middle-aged woman with graying hair named Samantha, whose mouth was slightly agape. “Hi, Stitches. You doing okay, too?”
Embarrassed, she closed her mouth, but her eyes remained wide. After several heartbeats staring at him, she leaned forward and whispered, “There isn’t a scratch on you, is there?” The shape of the Arena’s walls and ceiling carried her words farther than intended, earning them glares from the Marbelo support staff. Pip put his finger to his mouth, urging silence.
On the ride back to Rieckenburg in the rear of the oversized ambulance, Doctor Shepard checked Pip’s hand and agreed that it was likely he had sustained fractures in each of his last two fingers, to be confirmed by x-ray upon their arrival. “Too bad they don’t let me use the machines built into the examination room walls back at the Arena. If they had, I could verify it’s nothing more serious and have a cast on your hand before we get back to the Complex. As it is, you’ll have to make do with a splint.”
“No problem, Doc,” replied Pip. “It’s not that bad this time.”
Stitches, sitting beside the doctor, just shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t understand how that’s possible. No one walks away from those fights unscathed.”
Pip gave them both a brief recap of the fight, knowing that he would be providing a detailed report to the Council in the coming days. “So he wasn’t very good?” she asked.
“Actually,” Pip said, “I think he was very good. I recognized him immediately from the pre-fight briefing. He had already won three fights, one of which was against Gracia. I just caught him off-guard. Lucky, I guess.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything more, and Pip decided it was a good time for a nap.
When they pulled into the Complex, there was a large gathering of people waiting for him. In addition to his usual core group, it seemed that most of the lunch crowd and many others were in attendance. As he stepped off the ambulance to loud cheering, Pip was immediately rushed by two exuberant women in blue and brown.
It was Maggie that saw the splint first, which led to a lot of fussing and hugging and kissing.
Standing next to John, Max made a disgusted sound and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Seriously? They’re fawning all over him because he hurt his pinky? I lost an eye and nobody even cared.” Ruth Bower turned and punched him in the ribs, then glared up at him, daring him to keep going. Max smiled and pulled her against his side. “Okay, maybe somebody cared.”
“Damn right,” she said, snuggling in closer.
John and Lilith shared a look, clearly amused at the pair, before John pulled Lilith tight to his side, earning himself a warm smile.
Pip and his attendees, meaning the medical professionals and his girls, made their way through the crowd to take care of Pip’s hand properly. As they saw him depart, another roar went up from the assembly, which earned a smile and a wave from the victorious young man. He was slightly embarrassed when he realized the noise was because the kitchen staff had brought out cases of alcohol stacked on carts, Arena victories being one of the few occurrences when alcohol was allowed within the Complex. Rosie, seeing what had happened, took his good hand with a caring smile and led him toward Surgery-One.
Chapter 17
Early the next morning, Pip met John in the courtyard, a chance to talk before the formal fight debrief. Like after all the other Arena victories Pip had experienced, the lawn was strewn with bottles, trash, and discarded clothing, as well as some of the night’s revelers, many of them clumped together in pairs. The two men walked slowly, making their way through the unintentional obstacle course, a concession to John’s hangover.
“Good night?” Pip asked.
John nodded slightly, preferring not to move his head. “Yeah, pretty good,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll pay for it today, of course, but it was a bit different with you fighting. I didn’t realize how wound up I was. You?”
“Pretty good,” nodded Pip in return. “The girls took good care of me. They were even more affectionate than usual.”
“Does ‘girls’ include your magical personal assistant, Ms. Rachel?” John asked, rising his eyebrows suggestively. Pip didn’t reply immediately, and John’s eyes widened. “Really? All three?”
“Well… I guess it’s a matter of definition.”
John looked at his charge incredulously. Pip shrugged. “After Doc put on the cast,” he said, raising his hand, “we went back to my room.”
“Broken?”
“Yeah. A small crack in the third finger and the fourth finger was actually worse than I thought. It broke all the way through, but stayed together, so at least that’s good. Doc says the cast can come off in three weeks, but it’ll be eight or ten until I can spar again, and probably six more until I can fight at full intensity.”
“Not so bad, really, for an Arena fight.”
“That’s what I thought,” replied Pip.
After a pause to redirect his thoughts, Pip continued. “So when we got to my room, Rosie and Maggie were pretty… insistent about, uh, things. Rachel excused herself, but Rosie didn’t want her to go. Then the three of them had this really intense whispered conversation at the other end of the room. I heard a few words, but really tried not to listen.”
John nodded. “It seems like they’ve been getting closer recently, especially during the lead up to the fight. I think Maggie really latched onto Rachel’s positive attitude about it.”
“Yeah, I saw the same thing. There’s something about her confidence in me that is really… convincing. To be honest, it’s a bit intimidating.
“Anyhow, after this conference, or whatever it was, Rachel is crying just a little bit, but happy tears, if that makes sense? Then Maggie kisses her, not like make out or anything like that, but really intensely, and I can see Rachel’s pretty surprised. Then Rosie kisses her, only softer.
“After that, Rosie and Maggie come over to me and Rachel sits down in the chair next to my bed. Rachel is looking genuinely happy, like when you complimented her food that first day at lunch. Rosie is smiling, and Maggie looks like she’s going to eat me alive.”
“Did she?”
Pip didn’t make eye contact, but his dark cheeks reddened slightly. “To be honest, I think last night was more physically demanding than the fight itself.”
“Doesn’t surprise me even a little bit,” John said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Pip, but I know I’m not man enough to keep up with those three women.”
Pip still wasn’t looking at John when he replied. “Rachel didn’t actually… directly… participate. She, uh, well, took care of herself. Then when we were done, she slept next to Maggie.”
John whistled theatrically, inadvertently rousing a couple they were walking past. John stopped walking and looked up at Pip seriously. “All joking aside, Pip, are you happy with how things are going? I know all three of those girls are wonderful, but you need to keep in mind that Rosie and Rachel are coming from really rough places. If this isn’t a real, permanent thing, you need to figure out how to end it soon, before it goes too far to avoid deep, lasting hurt. Do you know what I’m saying?”
Pip nodded. “Thanks, John, I appreciate your advice. This is all new to me, and it’s happening really fast. I’ve been going along with it, trusting Rosie and Maggie, but you’re probably right that the four of us need to sit down and talk.”
“Just talk?” asked John teasingly.
Pip shrugged exasperatedly. “I have no idea. It feels like anytime one of them is around I’m just another passenger on the train.”
John reached up and clapped Pip on his back. “If it makes you feel any better, I feel exactly the same way when I’m with Lilith.
“By the way, my shoulder is still sore, and it’s been almost two days,” said John as they resumed their walk.
Pip smiled but didn’t look at his mentor. “I figured.”
John just shook his head. “So, the fight…”
As the two continued their stroll, Pip gave John a concise recap of the fight, answering the older man’s questions along the way.
“So it all went according to plan,” John said aloud, mostly to himself. “Do you think you could have beat him without the Effect?”
Pip shook his head. “Not very likely. The guy was even bigger than Max, and moved unbelievably fast. If he would have caught me with his dive, I don’t think I could have gotten away without taking a pounding. And I have a feeling that if I get in a fight of attrition, I’m going to end up on the losing side, the same as I did in all those training fights. Well, until the last couple, anyway.”
“What about hitting him in the ribs, in that special spot?”
“Actually,” Pip said, considering, “I don’t think that is so important. There are a lot of places I could hit an opponent and cause significant damage, like the liver, or the spine. It worked out this time because his arms were stretched out and I was right there to hit him, but I wouldn’t say that it’s crucial.”
John nodded pensively. “Pip, I want to keep knowledge of the Effect to ourselves. That’s five people so far: us, Lilith, Max, and Rosie. The Council will chalk up this easy victory — no offense — to you hitting that spot, and I think that’s for the best. It probably means all of the Adams will continue to be trained to hit it, not preferentially, but when the opportunity arises. That also means that the other cities will learn of it.”
Pip gave John a questioning look.
“There are always spies, Pip. Traitors. They feed information to Marbelo or Gracia or whoever for money. That’s why I want to keep the Effect to ourselves. I don’t know if there is a way to counter it, but it seems to be crucial to our success, so I’ll talk with Lilith and Max, and you can talk with Rosie.”
Pip nodded.
“And anyway,” John continued, “the doctors will probably figure out how whats-his-name died when they do the autopsy. Having our competitors spend a lot of time talking, developing countermeasures, training — it’s good for us so they aren’t working on something more useful instead.”
“Sven Kobin was his name.”
John stopped walking and closed his eyes. “Broad, blonde, one blue eye and one brown?”
“That was him.”
John whistled appreciatively, this time completely without theatrics. “Not bad, Pip, not bad.”
The two once again resumed their walk toward the executive conference room where the debriefing would take place.
Having gone through the details once, the post fight assessment went smoothly, with Pip explaining most details before the directors needed to ask questions. As John anticipated, there was much excitement about the magic bullet that had now been unequivocally confirmed. Director Baker, the head of Special Projects, was especially pleased that his support for this approach had been justified, and he smiled broadly at John and Pip throughout the meeting.
Director Collins, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically quiet. When the meeting concluded, she and John had a brief whispered conversation, after which they left the room together. As the rest of the participants filed out, the Executive Director said, “Pip, please stay for a few moments. I would like to speak with you.”
When the room was clear and the door shut, the Executive Director stated directly, “Pip, I know there is something different about you. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I am going to use it to make this city prosper. Does that bother you?”
“No ma’am,” Pip replied immediately, looking back at her with a blank expression. “That is what I was born to do.”
The Executive Director paused, waiting for Pip to say more, and when he didn’t, she asked her next question. “Did you enjoy winning your first fight?”
“It was better than the alternative, of course, but I did not enjoy the process.”
“Did you enjoy the celebration last night? It is not so common that an Adam is in shape to participate after a fight, and certainly never after a fight with one of our main adversaries.”
“No, ma’am. I didn’t see any reason to celebrate.” She gave him a questioning look, so Pip continued. “It was just another day, with a lot of waiting by myself beforehand.”
The Executive Director sat back, staring hard at the young man. “Is it remorse?”
“No, ma’am. I did my job, and my opponent did his. I was successful and he was not.” Pip shrugged. “That’s it.”
“You’re not relieved to be alive?”
Pip shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m glad, but not actually relieved.”
“Explain.”
Pip broke eye contact for the first time, considering how to phrase his response. “Every day, going back more than… well, at least five years, there was a fair chance I would be killed, always increasing as the other Adams got bigger and stronger. I killed two Adams in fights, who were both trying to do the same to me. When I spar with Max, he doesn’t pull his punches any more, and if he were to hit me squarely, there is a good likelihood that would be the end.
“People kept asking me before the fight if I was scared, and the answer really is ‘no’. It was just another day, and just another fight.”
The woman across from Pip looked at him without changing expression for some time, while he again returned her gaze. “Pip, that may be simultaneously the saddest, and most inspiring thing I have ever heard. Are you content with your situation?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have friends who care for me, and colleagues who make sure I am doing the right things. I’ve already achieved more than I expected, so every new day is a bonus.”
After another silence, this one stretching for some time, the Executive Director spoke again. “Thank you, Pip. That will be all for now.”
As Pip left the room, John fell into step with him. “So, how did it go?”
Pip shrugged. “Fine, I guess. She asked if I was happy.”
“And?”
“And I am,” said Pip.
“That’s all?”
“Pretty much.”
They walked quietly for a while. “I guess that means she likes you,” John said. Pip shrugged noncommittally. “It also probably means that she is going to keep sending you into the Arena.”
As they approached the hallway where they would separate, John stopped. “I talked with Director Collins about my decision not to be completely open about the, uh, mechanics of the fight.” Pip nodded his understanding. “There was a little debate, but she’s on-board. I’m heading to see Max now. Remember that you have today and tomorrow completely off for rest, so give my best to your three lady friends, and I’ll see you all tomorrow at lunch.”
“Not today?”
John shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be eating any time soon: still feeling a bit queasy.” Pip smiled and the two parted, with Pip heading back to his room where the girls were waiting.
“So?” Rosie asked.
“Was fine,” Pip replied. “Not a big deal, really. I went over the fight and then stayed after to talk with the Executive Director.”
“What?” exclaimed Maggie. Rachel and Rosie both gave their friend questioning looks. “She’s like the scariest person in the whole Complex. She’s famous for staring people down. Did she do that to you?”
Pip shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
Maggie’s eyes got big. “What did you do?”
“I stared back.”
Maggie clearly wasn’t expecting this answer and it took her aback. “That’s it?” Pip nodded. “Pip — please understand that I mean this is the nicest way possible — sometimes I’m pretty sure there’s something different about you.”
Pip grinned. “That’s what she said.” Maggie made a show of throwing up her hands in disbelief, looking to the other two women for support.
“I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” said Rosie. Then she grinned, “But I do know Pip is different.” Rachel agreed with a smile.
Maggie turned and flopped dramatically onto the Pip-sized bed, planting her face in a giant pillow. “Sometimes I forget you’re both so new here,” she complained, which sounded something like “mmmfmffmmf mmfmmf mffmmfmf” to the others in the room. As she continued to rant to the bed, Pip raised a finger to his lips and then motioned to the bed. He pantomimed his plan, which had Rosie grinning wickedly, while Rachel’s eyebrows raised. Pip nodded and smiled again, squeezing her hand briefly and then counting down from three with his fingers.
When Pip’s uncasted hand pushed down on her hips from behind, Maggie squealed in surprise, and tried to push herself up, only to have the wind knocked out of her as one of the girls landed on top of her. In the same motion, the attacker grabbed her left wrist and pinned her right arm to her waste, effectively immobilizing her. With some aggressive squirming, Maggie was able to flip her hair out of her face enough to see Rosie grinning down at her suggestively. Maggie gave her a dirty look in return, but couldn’t do much else.
“Come on, Rachel, you know what to do,” Rosie said while looking down at Maggie.
Maggie’s eyes went wide and she renewed her struggle with even more vigor, but Pip’s force was too much, and all of Rosie’s weight was pinning her upper half down. It quickly became evident that she was stuck, and Maggie stopped struggling again. The moments stretched and Maggie had just started to relax when she felt the mattress shift as someone crawled up on her right side.
With some additional bucking, Maggie turned her head enough to look through her hair to the other side, finding Rachel looking down at her uncertainly. Rachel’s hand came up and reached toward Maggie’s exposed side where her shirt had ridden up. The first touch was tentative and Maggie barely felt it, but Rachel grew more confident quickly, and the initial touches became caresses. Maggie closed her eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, relaxing again.
“Nope!” called Rosie loudly while simultaneously poking Maggie in the soft spot below her ribs. Maggie bucked strongly, but Rosie continued to prod her, knowing from previous experience how ticklish Maggie was in this particular place. Maggie was soon screaming, crying, and laughing simultaneously, all while begging Rosie to stop. Without warning, Maggie’s legs were released and her wild motions tossed Rosie off to the side.
Maggie didn’t pause for a moment and tackled Rosie before she could get away, pinning the lighter girl. Maggie’s hand immediately went to Rosie’s weak spot at the top, innermost part of her thigh, where she pressed relentlessly, now causing Rosie to howl with laughter. The pair continued to wrestle, but Maggie’s heavier body kept her in the superior position.
Pip stood smiling next to Rachel, who was resting on her knees “Are they always like this?” she asked.
Back at the scene of the struggle, Maggie’s hand had been pushed higher, quickly finding its way under her panties, and Rosie’s scream turned into a drawn out moan. Maggie continued her manual manipulation while Rosie’s hands grabbed her friend for a kiss.
“Pretty much,” Pip replied. “Too much for you?”
Rachel took a deep breath. “I… don’t know. I have a lot of… issues about… physical things.” Pip placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently.
“Do you want to stay?” After a pause, Rachel nodded.
Pip sat down in the large chair next to the bed, motioning Rachel to join him. Once she was seated comfortably on his leg and reclining against his chest, they looked back to the other two, who had managed to become thoroughly entangled in each others’ clothing. Undeterred, the pair were progressing quickly to increasingly intimate activities.
While Rachel’s eyes never left her friends, Pip’s attention was divided, alternately looking at the girls and then down at Rachel. He moved his arm around Rachel and laid his hand on her leg, reaching all the way to her knee, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Without breaking her concentration, Rachel reciprocated, placing her hand on his thigh and then tracing a line back and forth. Not wanting to disrupt the unexpected contact, Pip held back his own moan and closed his eyes.
By the time the girls were reaching the finale of their session, Rachel was exploring freely with her hand. Pip had given up trying to be quiet and had laid his head against the back of the chair, enjoying the intimacy and trust Rachel was sharing with him.
When Rachel’s hand abruptly stopped in his lap, Pip opened his eyes to find all three girls looking at him. Maggie and Rosie, now fully undressed, were standing directly in front of him, stunning in their contrast.
Maggie, voluptuous, with her dark curly hair and dark eyes, stood with her hand on her hip. Rosie, lean and fair complected, had her arms folded, emphasizing her bust. As often occurred in similar situations — which seemed to be happening with increasing frequency — Pip couldn’t form words.
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “This is all your fault, you know.”
“Um huh,” agreed Rosie.
“I think you owe us,” said Maggie, stepping forward with Rosie.
“Uh huh,” confirmed Rosie again as the pair climbed into his lab next to Rachel, whose eyes went wide at this newest development. Rachel shifted her hips and started to slide off Pip’s knee when Rosie put her hand on the woman’s hip. What followed was an entirely silent conversation between the two.
Pip’s eyes flicked back and forth, waiting to see what would happen. Just when he had worked up the courage to say something on Rachel’s behalf, Rosie smiled and leaned forward, planting a brief kiss on the other’s lips. Rachel smiled in return, then focused her attention to Pip, turning in place so that all three women were looking up at him.
“Oh, shit,” he breathed out, and without even meaning to, Pip slowed time more than he ever had before.
Chapter 18
“So, what do you think?” Lilith asked John.
They were sitting in her office, having just come from a Council meeting. “Honestly, Babe, I don’t know.
“Babe?”
“Just trying it out,” John said with a half grin, which quickly disappeared. “The truth is, there isn’t much risk, relatively speaking anyway, and the upside is pretty big. My issue with the idea is that Adams rarely fight more than once a cycle, and we’re talking about Pip fighting twice in a half cycle. The precedent isn’t good, but what worries me the most is his hand. It should be healed in time for the fight, but ‘should’ is different than ‘will be’, and you know we can’t pin bones because they will show up in the pre-fight x-rays. Is it even enough time for your marketing blitz?”
Lilith leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming on the armrest. “Actually, for my purposes, the situation is pretty close to ideal.” John was a bit surprised, but didn’t say anything, so she continued. “Pip is just coming off a victory against one of our primary rivals, where he beat an accomplished opponent with multiple victories. That’s point one. What’s more, he did it convincingly. I didn’t even have to push that information out there; the people at the party saw that he was fine and did it for me. That’s point two. Next, we didn’t really do much marketing pre-fight, because there was so little notice, which means people in the city won’t be burned out when we really hype him up. Point four in favor is that Pip was already becoming a folk hero, and this is a chance to really cement him in peoples’ minds: to make him the face of the program, like we discussed when we first started.
“Think about it: in less than a hundred days, the city learned about him dramatically with your motorcycle stunt, then saw how dangerous he is when he killed more than half a dozen men in an exhibition game — I mean match. Then he beats one of the big three with barely a scratch on him, and if he follows this up with a second victory in as many months…” Lilith paused for effect, letting John consider her arguments.
“But perhaps the biggest factor is that, as you said, the risk to Pip is low. Brock-Loren’s program is just not as good as ours, and having a chance to annex the remainder of their city — well, it just doesn’t happen very often.”
John sighed. “I know. Your arguments are well laid out, and I don’t really find fault in any of them. It’s just…” John shook his head. “It just seems too easy.” Lilith raised her eyebrows questioningly.
John stood and started to pace around Lilith’s office, which was actually only big enough for him to take two and a half steps before he had to turn around. “These fights are brutal in the strictest sense of the word. Every one of our Adams, or of the fighters from the other cities, they’re all trained from birth — from birth! — to be killers. And not just that, they’re genetically engineered to be as lethal as possible.
“Lilith, there isn’t a man in this entire city that could touch me in a mostly-fair fight, and in the same way, I wouldn’t stand a chance in the Arena, regardless of the opponent.”
“So you’re worried about Pip?”
“No! That’s the thing. I should be worried, but I’m not. I should be concerned that something bad is going to happen. Instead, I have full faith that Pip will walk out of the Arena, probably in even better shape than the last time. What worries me is that I’m taking this as a given: that we’re missing something. Do you understand?
“What Pip did against Kobin should not have been possible. The man was skilled, ruthless, and the best fighter in the Marbelo stable. It’s likely that his loss will set them back for some time, possibly several years. Did you hear that Northumberland already challenged them?”
Lilith nodded. “Two of the smaller cities as well.”
“See? This is a vicious world, and yet, I couldn’t be more confident in Pip.”
John took a deep breath, calming himself, and sat down again. “Did you know Pip is getting even better at controlling the Effect?”
‘Oh really’, said Lilith’s look, but she remained silent.
John nodded. “His control is strong enough now that he can slow the passage of time so that it is barely perceptible to him.” Lilith didn’t look as impressed as John expected. “Which means, that his ability to influence his own body is also improving.”
Now Lilith’s expression changed. “Is the change significant?”
John nodded. “Max has been using a standing jump as a barometer, like we did in his room. His normal jump is right around a meter and a half, which is almost enough to clear your head. When we first started checking, he could sometimes pass two meters using the Effect, which is already unbelievable. Now, he’s almost to two and a half meters, which means he can jump over me. Lilith, that isn’t with a running start; that is with him starting next to me, and just jumping up.”
Lilith’s hand came to her mouth without her consciously realizing it, while her eyes widened. “Really?”
John again nodded his affirmation. “Now picture that kind of power, agility, speed — all of it — in every move he makes in a fight. Lilith, there isn’t a man alive that could survive a solid hit from Pip. Our only real concern is that he will break his own bones when he hits or kicks people, so we’re doing everything we can to fix that. For example, if one of the other Adams takes this fight, we’ll increase the intensity of the micro-fracture training we’ve been doing.”
“The girls aren’t going to like that.”
John waved dismissively. “With three of them, he’ll be fine. There will always be someone there to wipe his nose or scratch his back for him.”
“Three?” said Lilith, surprised.
“Yeah, Rachel joined the other two, but that’s not important right now.
“Lilith, did you know that Pip is still growing?”
“What? How is that possible. Adams reach full size at twelve years old, right?”
“Yep, usually. Pip’s pretty close to nineteen now, and his height is still increasing, right about two fingers per year over the last three. I just found out a few days ago when Doc did the post-fight physical. Actually, that may be why he keeps breaking his fingers: because they’re still growing.
“Regardless, the key point is that Pip is probably already the most dangerous person in the world, even if not that many people know it, and he’s getting stronger on an almost daily basis.”
“John, that’s not a bad thing for us or for him,” Lilith said soothingly. “The opposite, really. Pip’s a wonderful young man, beyond all the physical skills. Sometimes I forget, or almost forget, that he’s an Adam. I want him to be with us for a long time, and the only ways that can happen are if he stops fighting because he gets badly hurt, or is actually killed. I don’t like either option, and I’m certain you don’t either.” John shook his head. “I can also understand what you’re saying about it seeming easy now, but remember all those thousands of hours you spent with him, teaching, training.
“John, I don’t want to overstate this, but it was your insight — your brilliance, if I’m being honest — that put us in this position. You’re the one that spotted an anomaly in that first fight he won, and you’re the one that persuaded the council to let him have a second fight. John, don’t forget how hard it was to get here. Of course we need to keep pushing Pip, and keep him humble as best we can, but it’s time to let him show the world what he can do.
“When you described how Pip’s changed, improved — evolved? — I got shivers down my spine and my mouth went dry. And I know him well. John, it’s time to take Pip from being the most dangerous man in the world that nobody’s heard of, to being the scariest man in the world, the one that makes other cities forfeit matches and our own people line the streets to catch a glimpse. This is what we’ve worked for: Pip, you and I, the girls, Max.” Lilith leaned forward, looking into his eyes intensely. “John, it’s time to reap what we’ve sown.”
For his part, Pip was very casual when he learned of the Council’s decision. “Sure, I’ll be ready. If my hand isn’t quite right, I’ll try to protect it some. It should be possible to use my left, or my elbows, knees, whatever. I don’t anticipate a problem.”
“That’s what I figured,” said John nodding. “The lead up to this fight is going to be a bit different. Lilith is going to do a full media blitz on the city, which means you’ll be seen more around town. You’ll be doing interviews, or rather, she’ll be doing interviews with you there.
“Your training regimen will be primarily focused on fitness to minimize the risk of an injury. If something does happen, Rover is your backup, but that would derail Lilith’s plans. Any questions?”
Pip shook his head. “No. Just tell Rachel where I’m supposed to be and she’ll make sure I’m there on time.”
John grinned. “So I take it she’s now a permanent part of your life?”
Pip let out a long sight. “Yeah. All three of them are, which seems crazy.
“I did what you said, and the four of us talked a lot while I was resting after the fight. I have a feeling any one of them could have their pick of guys, but they’re all set on me.” He shook his head. “I still don’t get it, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. I would be pretty shook up if one of them were to leave.”
“I’m happy for you, Pip. It’s a bit unconventional, but if you’re happy, and they’re happy, I don’t really see a problem. Are they getting along with each other?”
“Sure, at least as far as I can tell. Maggie and Rosie are best friends, and I don’t think that has much to do with me. I guess you could say that they’re complimentary. Maggie is outgoing and bubbly, friendly with everyone. Rosie is more reserved, but has this really genuine, caring part of her. Somehow they work together. Maybe because they both have similar senses of humor.”
“Oh yeah?”
Pip nodded. “Yeah, they’re both kind of snarky and quick witted. They like teasing each other, and especially like giving me a hard time.”
“So how does Rachel fit? She doesn’t seem snarky at all.”
“She isn’t, but it works. When the other two team up on me, Rachel can just be herself . Then they start in on her, and she just goes with it.” Pip shrugged. “So far, no drama at all.”
John looked at Pip seriously. “Rachel is absolutely unique in my experience, and has proved that she can fill a role in your life — even your fighting life — but I’m concerned that she’s not really addressing the nasty stuff in her background. Pip, I’m a bit concerned that she’s going to break down and become a distraction, and that’s not something you should deal with as you prep for another Arena fight.
“Do you want me to get her an appointment with one of our councilors? I know Bonnie Madison has been seeing one regularly.”
Pip started to reply, then stopped, considering. “Actually, that may a good idea, but maybe not exactly like you’re thinking.
“Rachel and Rosie have been spending a lot of their unscheduled time together, and I think they are becoming close, but in a different way than Rosie and Maggie. Probably something to do with shared experiences. It certainly seems like they’re building real trust together, so I don’t think it’s a good idea to break up that dynamic.
“Do you think they could go to a councilor together? Rosie would probably benefit from having someone else to guide her as well, and this way they could still be available for each other.”
John sat back, a bit surprised at the suggestion, then smiled. “It’s a really good idea, Pip. Rosie is such a spitfire that I just assumed she could take care of herself.”
“Actually,” said Pip, “Rosie’s loud, outspoken, confident personality is just her form of bravado. When she’s comfortable and relaxed, that swagger goes away.
“Except when she’s with Maggie,” Pip continued thoughtfully. “They have this kind of competitive thing going on, and the two of them are rarely relaxed when they’re together.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to try to analyze this whole situation you’ve got going on,” responded John, “and I’ve already inserted myself into your business too much. So I just have one more question.” John paused for dramatic effect. “You think three is going to be enough?”
“Good Lord, John. Don’t even joke about that.”
“No? I know a certain Mrs. Madison that might be interested if you have an opening. She was asking about you the other day when I ran into her in the hallway.”
Pip shook his head vigorously. “Nope, nothing doing. Not for her or anybody else.”
John laughed loudly. “Don’t worry, Pip, I’m only kidding. She told me she is still adjusting, but things are going well enough. She did ask how you were doing, but it was probably only because you are our main shared interest.”
Pip visibly relaxed. “Not funny.”
“Yes, it was. Listen, Pip, you need to keep having conversations with your lady friends. If you’re this wound up, you obviously still have some doubts. Let them help.”
Pip nodded, putting his head in his hands. “You’re right, of course.
“Who would have thought that the personal side of my life was the one that kept me up at night.”
“Actually, if you’re doing it right, that’s exactly what is supposed to happen.”
Pip sat up and gave John a dirty look, but the latter just grinned back, looking very pleased with himself.
Chapter 19
Three weeks of near constant appearances had turned out to be more challenging than Pip expected. It had gotten to the point that people stopped and stared, pointed, shouted, wherever he went. It had always been this way to some extent, but in the past people had been more discreet; now they wanted to see him up close, and were often aggressive in their enthusiasm. Fortunately, this was the last planned appearance before the fight, meaning Pip could actually focus on training and rest, and spending time with his girls, of course.
According to Director Collins’ plan, Pip was dressed in black, as usual. Today he was wearing sleek black athletic pants that showed off his physique without restricting movement. Truth be told, they were too tight in the seat, but Lilith had insisted. His shirt was tight to his chest and lacked sleeves. His accessories consisted simply of black boots and dark glasses, the latter thankfully giving him some small measure of privacy.
On his left was Maggie, dressed in a flowing dress the color of the winter sky: pale gray with the slightest blue tinge. If he had been asked, which he wasn’t, Pip would have said he preferred her in warmer colors because they complimented her complexion. Even so, she still looked radiant, smiling broadly and waving as they stood in front of the assembly, thoroughly enjoying the attention.
Just behind him on the right was Max, who had been drafted into the role of bodyguard when John could not be at an appearance. With his size, eye patch, and multitude of scars, his presence ensured they never had an issue with someone getting too close.
At the front of the stage Director Collins was ready to give her speech, only waiting for the crowd to calm enough that her words could be heard.
It was a true testament to Max’s awareness and reflexes that he was the first to see the shooter, who was raising a long barreled gun from within the crowd. With a shout of “Down!” he was moving forward toward Pip.
The younger man saw the motion as well and immediately clamped down on time, even before the cry left Max’s mouth. Like Max, he was also moving forward as the first bullet started to make it’s way toward him. As he dropped his shoulder to avoid the projectile, another one was already on it’s way, and Pip began to be concerned because the second was not nearly as well aimed.
More rapidly followed.
On his left, Maggie had begun to turn as events played out in front of her and on his right Director Collins was in the process of diving — or falling — to the stage floor. Out in the crowd, city residents were only just beginning to react as the the sound of shots registered.
By this point it was clear that the shooter had adopted a ‘pray and spray’ approach, as bullets now covered a significant portion of the stage. Seeing that Maggie was in the path of an oncoming round, Pip stepped into her and pushed, sending her well clear of the stage. Even with his superhuman agility, Pip could not avoid the oncoming bullet, which he felt slowly drill through the triceps on his right arm, burning terribly. Fortunately, it was the last shot fired as the crowd subdued the would-be assassin.
Now kneeling, Pip allowed time to resume its standard pace as he assessed the damage. The bullet had passed clean through his muscle, which likely meant little to be truly concerned about. It was bleeding freely so he clamped his huge left hand around both sides, trying to stem the flow some.
In front of him Maggie had landed in a group of onlookers. She was holding her arm close to her side, so she was likely hurt, but was at least moving around.
At the front of the stage, Director Collins was sitting still. He began to move to her, then turned to his head to the right and saw Max slumped on his side, where he had evidently collapsed. His trainer — his friend — did not appear to be breathing and the only movement was from blood spreading on the stage.
“Shit,” Pip said dejectedly as his arms dropped to his sides. He noticed, but barely registered the medical technician rush up to him with her trauma kit. It wasn’t until she started pulling on his hand that he realized the young woman was yelling at him.
“You need to sit down. I can’t reach your arm.”
Pip nodded absentmindedly and followed her direction. The woman knew her job and soon had the bleeding stopped, his arm bandaged tightly, and the blood on his arm cleaned off. Throughout the process, Pip’s eyes remained on Max, who was being examined by other medics. As Pip had known, there was nothing to be done. His own medic soon moved off to tend to others, her task completed.
After some time — Pip couldn’t have said how much — Director Collins stepped into Pip’s vision, not wanting to startle him from behind. Rather than saying anything, she sat down next to him, managing to do so gracefully even in her tight skirt. The two watched as six large men from the crowd were recruited to move Max. After nearly dropping him, two more bystanders were hastily pulled in to help, and the morbid procession moved on.
“I’m sorry, Pip,” said Lilith at last.
After another stretch of time, Pip finally spoke. “He must have been trying to get to me. He should have known better.”
Lilith reached up to put her hand on his arm. “He was doing his job, Pip, and he did it well. He might not have helped you, but when he yelled I immediately ducked. If I hadn’t, I’m certain I would have been shot, too.”
Pip slowly nodded. “I’m glad you are okay, Director Collins. Do you know how Maggie is? I think I hurt her when I pushed her out of the way.”
“She’ll recover, Pip, which is all we could have reasonably asked for given the circumstances.” Pip turned to look at her, not letting her get away with such a vague response. Lilith sighed. “Her right arm is broken — I think they called it the humerus. Whatever the upper arm is. It’s not a compound fracture, though, so that’s positive. When she landed she broke the collar bone on her left side, and also knocked heads with somebody. The medic’s initial opinion was that both of them have moderate concussions.”
Pip nodded sadly. “I thought I felt her arm give.” He took a deep breath. “I hope she isn’t too mad at me.”
“Pip, look at me.” Pip sighed and looked at the director again, who was already staring at him intensely. “You saved her life, and that’s not an overstatement. I look at the footage from the camera I had stationed behind the stage, and the bullet that hit your arm would have hit her in the chest. No doubt.” Pip nodded, having already known this. “She will be angry, and in pain, but it won’t be at you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Pip replied, looking forward again. “How many people were hurt?”
Lilith sighed again. “Four killed, including Max. One of the organizer’s people and one of mine here on stage.”
“I’m sorry, Director Collins.”
“Me, too, Pip. We weren’t that close, but I knew Jane for more than ten years. I’ll have to go talk with her husband when we get back.”
“If you think it will help, I can come along.”
“Thank you, Pip, but I think Maggie will need you more.”
Pip nodded his acquiescence. “What about the fourth?”
“Well,” said Lilith, “it was a man out in the crowd. He was one of the first to grab the shooter, and the man stabbed him in the scuffle.”
“I take it the shooter was a professional then?”
“Looks like it. He cut up a few others, but they’ll recover.
“There’s something else, though: the guy that died… he was just a normal resident. He wasn’t a security guard, or a boxer, or even a ballsport player. They told me he was a farmer that made the trip to see you in person. One of the other guys that got cut up works at the water treatment plant. Another one works in the Meister’s Office. They were regular people, Pip. I think that says something about how much this city thinks of you.”
Pip thought this through before nodding and rising to his feet. “Can we do the same for the farmer that we did for the families from the ballsport match?”
“Sure, Pip,” Lilith replied.
“Is it possible for me to address the crowd, those that are still here anyway?”
“Of course. Except for the one, all of our cameras are still operational, so whatever you want to say will reach the people that left, too. What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll know when I start,” he said as he walked to the front of the stage. Lilith was about to object, but decided that Pip’s instincts had never failed them before, so she caught the attention of her stage manager and gave him a complex set of hand signals, which were immediately relayed.
Pip’s looming presence soon had heads turning toward him curiously, and it wasn’t long until the crowd quieted.
Eschewing the microphone, which only reached to his navel anyway, Pip called out loudly, “Rieckenburg!
“What happened here today will not be forgotten. Not by me, and not by you. There will be repercussions, and they will be terrible, in the same way these events were terrible. The only difference is that whoever did this will be repaid tenfold. I will have vengeance for myself. I will be vengeance for you.” Pip stopped speaking, letting his words sink in. Within a couple heartbeats, a cheer started to rise up, becoming savage as it built in intensity, the crowd pouring out their anger.
“I am grateful for your courage, that you stopped this atrocity before more were killed. I would expect nothing less from my city.” A second cheer built, this time less ferocious, but no less powerful.
“Nothing has changed. I will fight as scheduled, and I will win.” Pip brought his left hand down on the podium with a loud boom, and the crowd cheered.
“Then I will fight again, and win again.” Another boom and more cheering.
“And again.” Boom.
“And again!” Pip brought his hand down a final time and the top of the podium seemed to explode as wood flew into the air and off to both sides. Pip turned and walked off stage with the crowd in an absolute frenzy behind him.
Lilith joined him as he climbed into the transport vehicle. “That was something else, Pip, and not what I was expecting. Are you okay?”
“No, ma’am,” Pip said without looking at her, “I’m angry.”
Neither said anything more during the ride back to the Complex. When they arrived, Pip stalked immediately toward Surgery-One. Stepping inside, he saw Maggie laying unconscious on the operating table while Doctor Shepard gently palpated her broken arm. The doctor’s assistant quickly made her way to Pip, but he ignored whatever she was saying. She eventually gave up and walked away, only to return shortly after.
It wasn’t until she pinched his side that he looked down at her. “Finally got your attention, huh?” Pip didn’t respond, but she was undeterred. “You shouldn’t be in here right now, but I can’t move you so I might as well take a look at your arm. Come sit down and we’ll see what I can do.” She led him to an oversized stool, then unwrapped and examined his arm. “Well, it could have been a lot worse. They put a quick drying dressing on it, but I think a suture will heal faster and hold stronger. Any objection?”
Pip looked at the woman, then let some of the tension fall from his shoulders and face. “Okay, Stitches, do your thing.” She patted his good arm and went to get her supplies. A short while later, Samantha had sewed up the wound on each side of his arm, living up to her moniker with work so fine it was difficult to see. Across the room, the doctor and another assistant Pip didn’t know were putting the final plaster in place on Maggie’s arm.
It wasn’t much longer before the doctor finished and made his way over. “Hello, Pip. Samantha says she took care of your injuries. Do you need anything?”
“No, Doc, I’ll be fine. How is Maggie?”
The older man turned and looked at his patient. “We lightly sedated her, in case I needed to perform surgery. Fortunately, the proximal fracture in her left humerus was clean and didn’t require me to reset it. I didn’t see any loose chips, so with time the bone should knit nicely. Her right clavicle is also fractured, but it didn’t displace the bone, which means she won’t need surgery for it, either. We will immobilize both arms for the next four or six weeks and monitor recovery. I expect that she will be using both again without restriction in twelve weeks or less.
She should be coming out of sedation within the next hour.”
Pip took a deep breath, releasing the remaining tension he had been unconsciously holding. “Thanks, Doc.”
“Of course, Pip,” said the doctor as he turned and left. When he opened the doors, Rosie rushed in, stepping toward Pip, and then toward Maggie, not sure what to do with herself. It was clear she had been crying from the streaks on her cheeks and redness around her eyes. Seeing that Maggie was not awake, she decided on Pip and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around he waist. Pip rubbed her back gently as she started to cry again.
After speaking with the doctor in the hallway, Rachel had also entered the room, and was much more composed. She walked over to Maggie’s side and brushed her friend’s curly hair away from her face, then leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead before walking over to Pip. He held out his uninjured arm and she joined the embrace, hugging Rose and Pip together.
When Rosie had calmed, she pulled back and looked up at him. “When I heard what happened, before the details came out, I was afraid I had lost you both. I don’t know what I would have done,” she finished, once again burying her face against his side. Pip gave her a squeeze, then gently disengaged, leading the two women over to chairs against the wall.
“Maggie should be waking up soon. I am going to stay with her.”
Rachel took his hand in both of hers. “Pip, Rosie and I will stay with her. Once she sees you, she will be fine, and then you can go get rest.” Rachel forestalled his counterpoint with her hand. “You will need to get back to training, tomorrow, if your arm will let you. You can’t do that if you are spending all of your time with Maggie.”
“Rachel, I did this to her. I know it was necessary, but…” said Pip, trailing off.
“Pip, Maggie will thank you for what you did: you know that. So what you need to do is take your anger — your guilt — and put it into preparing for the fight. What Maggie would never do is forgive you for getting killed in the Arena. Right?”
Pip shook his head to himself. “Right,” he acquiesced.
“Good. So you’ll visit with Maggie, and then you will go get some rest. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I bet you’re exhausted.”
Pip nodded. “Okay, Rachel. You’re right, as always,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. Given the circumstances, Rachel was pleased and gave him a warm, understanding smile, then settled in to wait for Maggie to wake.
When she did, the visit was anticlimactic and a bit disappointing for Pip. Maggie was groggy from the sedative, and confused from the concussion. In the end, he gave her his own kiss on the forehead and returned to his room with Rosie, where the two of them were soon asleep.
Pip awoke when he heard his door open as Rachel entered. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly so as not to wake Rosie, who was snoring slightly as she laid on his chest.
She nodded as she disrobed. “Maggie is doing a little better, although she is still processing things slowly at the moment. I talked with Madame Bower and the women in the PET department will be taking care of her on a daily basis, since she won’t be able to do much with both her arms immobilized. It should work well since she has so many friends, and they have lots of experience nursing people back to health. I’m confident she’ll be fine.”
Pip nodded, letting his head drop back onto the pillow.
“I also talked with Mr. Rogers about your training.” Pip sat back up, partially displacing Rosie, who made some unintelligible sounds before settling back down.
“And?”
“And he’ll take over your training until the two of you decide on a longer-term solution, which I expect will be after the fight.”
Pip relaxed again. “Thanks, Rachel. I really appreciate you taking care of the details.”
“No problem, Pip. It’s my job, and it’s also what I like to do,” she said as she crawled onto the bed. Seeing that Rosie had managed to half fall off of Pip, Rachel slid her gently off of his chest and onto his shoulder, then took her place, sighing fondly when Pip put his hand on her back. “Besides, this is all the thanks I need.”
Rachel was soon breathing slow and steady, but Pip was left thinking through the day’s events repeatedly, trying to determine what he could have done differently. Without any answers, Pip’s sleep, when it came, was troubled, and he was not well-rested when he left his room.
Unlike most mornings where they met in the courtyard, John was waiting for Pip just outside the younger man’s room as he emerged. The two looked at each other for a moment before John walked up and gave Pip a hug.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Pip.” The bigger man nodded, but kept silent. “Let’s walk a little, and I’ll tell you what we’ve found out so far.”
John waited until they were outside, where being overheard was no longer an issue, before he started. “The shooter was a professional, which you probably already figured out. The Meister’s Office thinks he was involved with a double murder here a couple years ago, but he was outside the city by the time they traced the trail to him.”
“Do we know who sent him?”
“Well, they’re working on it, but they do have a good idea.”
“Brock-Loren, trying to avoid the fight?”
“It’s the most obvious answer, but we actually think it was Northumberland.”
“Whoa,” exclaimed Pip. “Why?”
“In simple terms, it looks like a power grab. They are moving against Marbelo in the Arena, and we think this is their way of keeping us from following suit. After your victory, we can’t challenge another Marbelo territory for six months, but after the dead period ends, we probably would for the same reasons that they are moving now: chances to make big gains against one of the big three don’t come along very often. So, if they take you out, maybe those spoils fall to them after their own dead period.”
Although Pip knew every detail about the Arena and its machinations, he was not particularly versed in the strategic politics that dictated matches, and his interest was peaked. “Why would me being dead matter that much?”
“Actually, Pip, it makes a lot of sense. Following the death of a lead fighter — or even the second or third fighter — conventional wisdom would be to step back any aggressive activities until the pool is back at full strength. The rationale here is that cities always have at least one of their top fighters ready in case they are attacked. In the last fight, when you beat one of the big three’s top fighters without significant injury, it threw off the normal balance. More typical would be for you to also be out of action for the next several months, meaning that any follow-up from us would fall to a lesser Adam. The actual differences between the very best fighters aren’t usually that big, so little differences in physicality or technique — or anything else — can make the difference.”
“So now we have me, Stash, Rix, and Rover in good shape and ready to fight.”
“Right,” said John nodding. “We have the deepest Adam pool, and it’s not really that close. Stash or Rix would have had even odds of walking out of the fight against Kobin, and Rover would have at least put up a good fight. With the four of you, we can do a lot of damage.”
“So this was supposed to put us in our place?”
John shrugged. “Or at least make it harder for us to assert our strength.”
After several moments considering this new information, turning it over in his mind, Pip stopped walking. “So if I keep fighting, and winning, we can keep the other three in reserve and be as aggressive as we like?”
John nodded, but was not smiling. “That’s right, Pip. You can fight as often as you are able.”
“But I could only fight Northumberland once every six months?”
“Actually, that may not be quite right.” John took a deep breath before continuing and Pip got the impression that bad news was coming. “If we are able to confirm that it was Northumberland that sent the hitman — that’s an old word for somebody whose job is to kill for money — then we will declare war. The Meister’s Office has some fact checking to do, which should be done in a day or two, and then they can file the petition. After that, it will be up to the Arena Council to determine if the claim is valid.”
“I’ve heard the term ‘war’ used from before the Second Fall, but I don’t really know what it means now.”
“That’s because we haven’t had a war in more than three decades: after the balance of power was more-or-less established, they weren’t practical.” John took another deep breath. “If the Arena Council agrees that we were attacked outside of the Arena, they will uphold the petition, and we will be able to challenge Northumberland as often as we like for whatever period the Council sets. The duration is fixed based on the severity of the aggression.”
“And you think our petition will be upheld?”
John nodded. “Even the preliminary evidence I heard was pretty compelling.”
Pip’s eyes narrowed. “How long will I have?”
“As I said, it’s been a long time since there was a war, and this isn’t something I’ve studied in detail. That said, my recollection is that wars for this kind of blatant aggression usually lasted long enough for three or four fights.”
“So most of a cycle?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Pip turned and resumed walking. “I’m going to kill them all.”
Half a step behind, John said, “I know.”
Chapter 20
“I get it, John,” Lilith said from her chair, “but it seems like a crazy risk to take.”
“Not really, Sweetheart. If we wouldn’t have caught the guy, there would have been no way to tie it to Northumberland.” John shook his head, thinking to himself. “I mean, really, who would expect a bunch of regular people to take care of an armed assassin? Especially one that had a gun. I’ve never even seen one fired. Just the idea makes me cringe.”
Lilith allowed his point with a nod, but wouldn’t give in completely. “But don’t they realize what is at stake?”
John shook his head immediately. “You’re seeing the situation from your position, not from theirs. Think about it: what is the worst case scenario if the attack fails?”
“War, of course, which is where we’re heading.”
“Right, but go further. What happens when war is declared?”
“We challenge them over and over again. Our Adams destroy theirs completely.”
“Close, but not quite,” responded John, causing Lilith to give him a skeptical look. “We have three capable Adams, four if you count Rover. How many times could they fight in a full cycle?”
“Well, it depends on how hurt they are.”
“Right,” said John enthusiastically. “And remember that Northumberland has the best fighter in the world, a guy called Presto.” Lilith nodded. “So at worst, they lose their Number One, but our Lead Adam wouldn’t be in any shape to fight afterward, which only leaves one or maybe two of our Adams fight worthy, and only then if we’re feeling particularly aggressive.”
“But that doesn’t account for Pip.”
“Of course not, but he’s a runt. Yeah, he beat Kobin, but that could have been a freak thing. After all, we put up an Adam with no previous experience because the land was off in the middle of nowhere, so who cares of he got beaten to a pulp?
“Remember, they don’t know that the land was valuable, and I’m almost certain they don’t know that Pip is our Lead Adam. I would speculate that they think he’s only fighting again so soon because he wasn’t hurt and Brock-Loren is lower level competition. Good Lord, he’s even called Pip, which is short for Pipsqueak, an old term for tiny.”
“Really?” asked Lilith with a grin. “He certainly doesn’t strike me as tiny now.”
“Yeah, that was my fault, but we can save that story for another day,” John said waving his hand dismissively. “The point is that everything points to Pip being good-but-not-great, probably a solid number Two or Three. Do you see?”
Lilith sat forward and put her elbows on the desk, steepling her fingers and resting her chin on top. “So they don’t know that he’s something special?”
“They certainly do now,” John replied, “and I would bet that every one of their fighters is hoping their name doesn’t come up to fight him. The rally footage is everywhere now, and I’m sure they’ve all seen it. The truth is, if I was in their stable, I’d be scared shitless. Really, how are you supposed to hit someone that can dodge bullets?”
With the logic laid out before her, the larger picture was easy to see. “Okay, it makes sense. So how do you think this will play out?”
“First things first, he fights in two days and has to take care of business there.” Lilith nodded. “Then, assuming things go as planned, we immediately challenge Northumberland. Under the wartime rules of engagement, we will set the fight dates; we just need to allow for the minimum two week notice period.”
“So you think Pip is going to fight every two weeks until he wipes them out?”
John nodded solemnly. “The Arena Council gave us the full year we asked for, which means we can fit in more than twenty fights. Our Adam pool is typically between twelve and fifteen, so theirs is probably similar.
“Realistically, if Pip gets past Presto, I don’t think anybody else will be much of a challenge. Personally, I would like to see Pip take out their top two or three or four, and then have him split the load with Stash and Rix. That will share the burden and get the others experience. After the top ten or so, we could bring in Rover without much risk.”
“John, is Pip capable of this? What we are talking about is unprecedented.”
“I know he is. The only problem I expect is giving some of the fights to the other Adams.”
“Really?”
Nodding, John released a deep breath. “He’s mad, Lilith. I’ve known him his entire life, literally, and he’s never actually been an angry person. He always treated life with a kind of detached professionalism, even as a kid. He was already becoming more aggressive with Max’s training, but now he is well and truly pissed off, and the only thing he wants is to pay someone back.”
Lilith’s eyes widened. “Will that be a problem? If he’s angry, isn’t there a chance he’ll make a mistake?”
“Normally, I would say ‘yes’, but for Pip, anger apparently means single-mindedness. He’s more focused than I’ve ever seen him, so I don’t see an issue, but I will talk with him about it.”
“And you support this approach?”
John was quiet for a while, staring over Lilith’s shoulder without actually seeing. When his eyes refocused to look at her, his voice was tightly controlled. “They tried to take my boy from me, Lilith, in a nasty, dirty, underhanded way, and they killed my friend.
“I’m angry, too. Really, really angry. I wish that I could be the one in the Arena, but that won’t happen. My consolation is that I know Pip will take them apart piece-by-piece, and I can help him do it. Yes, I am fully supportive.”
Seeing John this passionate — this enraged — made Lilith feel deeply for him. She herself was angry and frightened, as one might expect from being shot at, so it wasn’t difficult to take the final step. “When it comes up for vote, I will support your plan, John.”
“Thank you, Lilith.”
She nodded in return, “But this can’t just be a personal vendetta. We will do what is best for the city, because too many people’s lives will be impacted negatively if we screw up. If that means that Pip can’t fight because he gets hurt, then he doesn’t fight. Clear?”
“Sure, but I don’t think that will happen.”
“I hope not, but a lot can happen in the next year.” John nodded and rose to leave. “And Honey, I don’t really like ‘Sweetheart’ — it makes me think of being an adolescent girl.”
John gave her a melancholy smile, glad for the change of subject. “Sure thing, Hot Stuff,” he said walking to the door, “we’ll find something that you like better.” He didn’t pause or look back as he stepped into the hallway, robbing Lilith of the chance to give him an appropriately dirty look.
Across the Complex, Pip was lying in bed, hands clasped behind his head. He had already finished his final pre-fight workout, after which he went to see Maggie. She was on bed rest, but was in high spirits most of the time. The PET girls had made good on their promise, and the young woman always had someone around to help, which often meant just sitting and talking, sharing gossip. Pip was glad Maggie was doing well, but always felt a little out of place with the other girls that he didn’t know, so his visits had tended to be short.
What’s more, the past week had been quite different than the weeks before the rally in that he had much more time to himself. Max was gone, of course, and John was busy making future plans — he called it scheming in his typical self-deprecating way — and while Pip and the girls hadn’t discussed it, he suspected that Rosie and Rachel were intentionally giving him space. He appreciated this, but it left him feeling quite lonely, much like before he met Rosie except that he now knew what he was missing. On the other hand, he was still having trouble dealing with residual anger, it being a new experience for him.
So when his door opened, he had mixed feelings as both Rosie and Rachel walked in. Even so, if the ladies saw any conflict within him, they didn’t acknowledge it: Rosie waved cheerfully and Rachel gave him her usual warm smile, then they proceeded to undress. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. “Hi girls. Everything okay?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
Rosie paused as she removed her skirt. “Why? What did you hear?” she asked wickedly.
Pip was immediately concerned. “What did you do?”
Rosie smiled and returned her focus to her clothing. Knowing that Rachel would give him a straight answer, he turned to her, but she was removing her shoes, obviously ignoring him. “Rachel?”
She raised her head and smiled at him, replying sweetly, “Yes, Pip?”
“What did Rosie do?”
“When?”
Pip rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, but she’s clearly up to something. Look at that smirk,” he said while pointing to the younger girl.
“Well, it may be because we just came from visiting Maggie.”
“And?”
“That’s it, so far as I know. We had a nice visit.”
Pip’s eyes narrowed and he looked back and forth between the two, knowing they were teasing him. “Is Maggie okay?”
Rosie smiled broadly, evidently pleased he was following the right track. “She’s just fine.”
“Did she tell you something particularly funny — about me maybe?”
“Nope. She wasn’t really in the mood to talk much today.”
Pip gave her an incredulous look. “Rosie, now I know you’re just giving me a hard time. Maggie always likes to talk.”
“Not always,” said Rosie, her smirk returning as the two women climbed into bed on either side.
Pip’s mouth opened as he tried to form words, looking back and forth between them. “You mean the three of you… there in the Lounge?”
When she replied, Rosie was wearing her predatory smile, “Uh huh, right there in the Lounge, just hidden by the privacy curtain.” Rachel confirmed with a nod.
“But how did she, uh, reciprocate?”
“She didn’t,” Rosie said. “That was all about her. This, now, is all about us,” she finished, crawling up Pip’s chest to kiss him thoroughly. When Rosie finally backed off, Rachel was there for her turn, and Pip moaned into her mouth, relishing the renewed intimacy.
As Rachel ended the kiss, Pip could see that her cheeks and chest were flushed and she was breathing deeply. Turning to look at Rosie, he saw she looked much the same, the blush even more pronounced on her paler skin. The two had another of their brief, wordless conversations, then moved quickly. Rosie took Pip’s hand and made it clear he should get out of bed while Rachel arranged pillows and blankets, with the two women soon lying back together, fingers intertwined and heads next to one another.
The image of them next to one another, waiting for him, was overwhelming given his emotionally fragile state. Until the recent past, Pip had been more-or-less alone excepting only John, and the depth and breadth of feelings running through him was too much to properly process. Anger and desperation, hate and acceptance, loneliness and desire — they all fought with one another to rise to the surface and be seen, heard, felt.
Pip sat down heavily on the floor next to the bed, closing his eyes and hanging his head. It was some time before he realized one of the girls was talking to him. As the fog cleared, he heard Rosie’s voice coming through clearly. “Pip,” she was saying softly, repeating his name every so often.
When he finally raised his head, both women were looking at him with smiles. “Welcome back, Pip,” Rosie said. “Believe it or not, we both have a good idea of what you are going through, and that’s the reason we came by.” Pip gave her a disbelieving look and she giggled. “Okay, one of the reasons.”
“She’s serious, Pip,” added Rachel, elbowing her friend. “Life outside the Complex is difficult, and we’ve seen our share of pain. We can help.”
“Pip, what happened was terrible,” said Rosie, taking over again. “You know this, but you need to accept that it wasn’t your fault. Then you need to do something constructive with the residual emotions.” She turned her body toward Rachel and ran her finger from the other woman’s navel to a spot between her breasts, all without taking her eyes from Pip. “Now that your pre-fight training is done, I might have an idea or two that could work.” Figuring that a picture was worth more than words, Rosie nuzzled into her accomplice’s neck, eventually nibbling on her earlobe, which caused Rachel to arch her back and let out a low, extended moan.
Pip hadn’t actually dealt with any of his internal conflicts, but could see the wisdom in channeling negative energy into positive action. Stripping off his shirt, he leaned over the bed and added his attention to Rosie’s, starting with Rachel’s feet and slowly working his way upward.
Chapter 21
With the better part of a day to himself, Pip had plenty of time to reflect on the conversation he shared with Rachel and Rosie after they had expended some of their collective energy. The two women had opened up to him, sharing deeply personal stories and feelings, none of which he had previously known. Following their discussion, he went to visit Maggie again, but this time they talked into the night. It was the first truly meaningful conversation they shared without the other girls present.
After talking around the topic for a significant part of the evening, Maggie eventually admitted to Pip that she had missed the comradery of the other PET girls while she was acting as Rosie’s Second. Saying it aloud seemed to unburden the young woman, and she was soon recounting the myriad adventures she and her friends had shared, both within and outside of the Complex. Even with his limited interpersonal experience, Pip could see where Maggie was heading, and cut her off mid-sentence with a kiss.
“Maggie, I understand.”
“You do?” she had said, clearly surprised.
“Of course I do. You’re young and want to live your life. With what I do — what I am — you would always be carried along, without much say.
“Maggie, I don’t think I could deal with knowing that you’re not as happy as you could be.”
She had smiled through tears, gladly accepting his gracious explanation as it kept her from having to admit she wasn’t the person she had previously believed herself to be: that she hadn’t been ready. “I’m so sorry, Pip. What a terrible thing for me to do to you on the night before a fight.”
Pip wiped her tears away with his giant thumb and smiled. “Don’t worry. The girls showed me earlier how to channel my emotions.”
“Did they?” laughed Maggie, still crying. “They’re so good for you, Pip, better than I could ever be.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Maggie. I know you’re spectacular, inside and out.” Maggie barked out a laugh and Pip turned red. “Hey, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
When Maggie had eventually calmed, their conversation turned to him. After all, even if they didn’t have a future together, Maggie still knew him better than almost anyone else. He admitted the deep guilt he felt over her injuries and Max’s death, and like Rosie and Rachel, she did her best to let him see the situation from a different perspective.
It had helped.
So as Pip finished his stretching routine, he felt fully centered, and when the door opened and he stepped into the Arena, it was with focus and purpose; he did not expect what he found.
Across the large white room, through the other door, his opponent lay slumped against a wall. Sensing something amiss, Pip clamped down on time, but nothing happened. After checking the room from his position and finding nothing out of the ordinary, Pip let time speed up and started to slowly walk forward. He had only moved two steps when movement caused him to clamp down a second time.
His control of the Effect had become so strong that the door’s downward movement could barely be seen, even though it was in reality moving quite rapidly. Realizing what had happened, Pip again relaxed and the door closed, shutting him in the Arena by himself.
“Whoa,” said Pip to himself as he sat down, “a forfeit.” Although uncommon, forfeits were not exactly rare, and happened a handful of times each year. The most typical cause was for some kind of prohibited substance, which resulted in forfeiture of the fight, death for the participant, and penalties for the city. At the very least, the aggrieved opponent could immediately offer a challenge, skipping the typical dead period. In extreme cases, forfeiture was grounds for war.
At present, it meant that Pip had another bell to wait, naked and alone, until the doors opened again. With nothing better to do, he settled into a meditation pose and visualized the fight with Northumberland that could now be scheduled.
When the door behind Pip slid up, the doctor and Stitches rushed in, only to find him resting and unhurt. Pip flicked his eyes toward the other door and understanding reached their faces. “Well, congratulations are in order, Pip,” said the doctor. “Two victories in the Arena is cause for celebration, regardless of how they occur.”
“Thanks, Doc,” said Pip, rising to his feet, “but this is only the beginning.” Pip didn’t spare a backward glance as the three made their way to the transport that would take them home.
It took two days, but the Arena Council made available the details of the forfeiture. The fighter from Brock-Loren was disqualified because his urine sample was tainted. The masking agent had apparently failed to do its job — or perhaps the Arena Council scientists simply knew to look for it — regardless, Rieckenburg now had control over Brock-Loren itself, this having been the final fight in a long campaign of conquest.
More interesting than the official report was the outcome of the annexation itself. Rather than allowing the city administration to continue to govern, as would be typical given the significant distance from Brock-Loren to Rieckenburg, the entire city council was executed in the central Rieckenburg Quad, along with the director and assistant director of their Arena program. The reason given was their poor judgment and cowardice in the recently forfeited fight.
The brutality of the changeover was atypical, but seen as necessary by the Meister’s office in Rieckenburg. To try to win favor from the fifteen thousand city residents, the entire replacement council was appointed from within the city, relying heavily on detailed interviews with more than a hundred leading citizens. There were still cries of “Puppet” and “Sham”, but most residents seemed to appreciate the gesture. Furthermore, instead of being executed, the remaining fighters from the Brock-Loren stable were relocated to the Complex. Realistically, these men would hardly be a match for the pool Adams, but they could be good sparring partners for the almost-mature next wave.
In total, only six actual fighters made the journey, along with several of the top trainers; the rest of the staff within the Brock-Loren program were told to find new professions. The top remaining fighter was called Brock, an honorific that he had just inherited when his predecessor forfeited. New Brock lasted less than a week, killed by a juvenile Adam in a sparring match. New-New Brock died the same day. After that, the title was dropped.
Of the four remaining after the first week, one was slightly taller than Pip, with huge arms and enormously broad shoulders: Pip doubted if he could reach his back to scratch an itch. The others were all at least a full hand shorter than the first, with one actually about the same height as John. It was this last one that intrigued Pip from the outset, largely because he could identify with being the smallest. There was also something strange, however, because an Arena fighter that size had not been seen in more than a decade, even from the least populated cities. Wanting to meet the man, Pip asked Rachel to arrange a discussion, which was quickly done.
In addition to setting the meeting, Rachel also provided Pip with the man’s personal information, direct from his program file. His name was, somewhat ironically, Adam, but everyone in his former program referred to him as Loren, a mean spirited joke meaning the opposite of ‘the Brock’. Otherwise, the file contained little more than his tangibles, such as height, weight, and so forth.
As Pip walked toward Loren across the courtyard, he took in the man’s frame for the first time. In addition to being short of stature, he was also lean, clearly mesomorphous. Even more so than height, this was completely unheard of in the common Arena era, where bone density and muscle mass were crucial to success.
As Pip approached, the smaller man glared at him, clearly unimpressed.
Pip stopped in front of the man and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Pip.”
Loren said only, “What do you want?”
Pip folded his arms, not having expected such a rude reception. Around the courtyard, people were starting to look toward the pair, sensing that something interesting was happening. “Do you know who I am?”
The man sneered at him, but didn’t say anything.
“It looks like we’re not going to be friends,” said Pip. “So be it, but if you don’t show some respect, you’re going to end up in the morgue, sooner than later.”
“Oh, yeah? And who’s going to do that, you?”
Pip shrugged. “If I need to, but I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“You couldn’t even touch me, you pompous ass.”
Surprised at the arrogance, Pip smiled. “And if I can?”
“You won’t.”
“I will,” said Pip, still smiling, “and when I do, you’re going to stop being a little shit to me. Agreed?”
When the man narrowed his eyes and assumed a fighting stance there were audible gasps from the people in the courtyard, who had suddenly become spectators. Pip mirrored the stance and shut out distractions, refusing to underestimate any opponent.
Without any real force behind the punch, Pip jabbed with his left hand, and it was knocked away. Again he jabbed, and again missed. He feigned a right cross and the man didn’t even move, and Pip knew. The smaller man was still sneering up at him, but when Pip gave him a predatory grin of his own, the man’s smugness faltered.
Clamping down on time, Pip jab stepped forward with his lead leg and threw another jab with his left hand. Seeing that his impromptu opponent’s hand was coming up to swat it away, he adjusted his aim lower, only to have the man adjust with him. When Pip stopped the jab mid-punch and threw his right hand again, the man started to shift, but Pip could see that he would be too slow. Just before his right hand connected with the guy’s head, Pip pulled off and stepped sideways.
The smaller man’s mouth was open and he was breathing quickly, even though the entire exchange lasted less than half a hundred heartbeats. “Holy shit, I thought I was dead.”
Pip shrugged, still grinning. “Satisfied that I can touch you?” The man nodded. “Good, then let’s start again. I’m Pip. I’m the Lead Adam here.”
“Loren, and I know. I saw the footage from a couple weeks ago, but I thought it was a fluke thing. I guess I understand now.”
“Listen, Loren — actually, do you like Loren?” The smaller man shrugged indifference, so Pip continued. “I knew there had to be something different about you, and now I know what it is. Would you like to have lunch with me and my handler?” Another shrug sealed the deal, and the two parted after fixing the details.
When Pip told John what he had found, John vacillated between excitement and concern. Eventually, he settled on both, and agreed that having lunch in private was a good first step.
When the time came, Loren arrived early and apprehensive. It was only when Rachel arrived with the food — burritos, at John’s request — that he began to relax some. “Who was that?” he asked as she departed with a wave.
“That’s Rachel,” replied Pip. “She takes care of me. And John, really.” John agreed silently, as he had already begun eating.
“Perk of being the Lead?”
“No,” Pip said smiling, “she arrived before my first Arena fight and asked if she could be my personal assistant.” He shrugged. “It’s turned out to be a really good choice.”
John laughed, pausing the burrito’s return trip to his mouth. “That’s one of the bigger understatements I’ve heard in a while. Rachel is amazing. Did you know Rover has an assistant now?”
“No, but I guess it makes sense,” responded Pip. “Rachel sets a pretty intimidating example, but there are lots of capable folks around, and it is much easier to focus on training when day-to-day activities aren’t a concern. I wonder how long until all of the pool Adams have assistants.”
“Dunno, but it’s already started with the directors. Richards was first, naturally. Seems he sees having an assistant as some sort of status symbol. I would guess the others will follow, rather than get left behind.”
“Even Director Collins?” asked Pip.
“Maybe. She did threaten to find a good looking male assistant of her own, but I think she was teasing me.” John was contemplative for a few moments. “The problem is, I’m never really sure with her.”
Pip smiled, but across the table Loren was looking quite confused. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?” he asked Pip. “To gossip about the peons?”
Pip’s face turned serious and he set down his food, as did John, who looked angry. “Alright, Loren, a few things that we need to get straight,” started Pip. “First, I get that things were different in Brock-Loren, and it seems like you were dumped on constantly. I would tend to excuse the attitude, but not if you talk badly about my friends and coworkers. While you and I are fighters, we have no shot at winning without the support of a whole load of other folks. And I would also remind you, Loren, that you’re not an Adam — that’s a title you need to earn.”
Emotions warred on the newcomer’s face, and though it took a hundred beats, his posture eventually relaxed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to you or your colleagues.”
John picked up his food and casually flicked away the offense with his hand. “Forgotten.” He took a bite, swallowed, and started again. “Loren — actually, why do you still let people call you that? I read that it’s a pejorative where you come from.”
Loren tilted his head back and forth, weighing options, then replied, “Not really. The other fighters started calling me that, trying to get under my skin, since they couldn’t actually beat me when we sparred. After all this time, it feels natural.”
“Wait, you were never beaten? Why weren’t you their number one fighter then?”
“Well,” said Loren evasively, “I never actually won either.”
“Ahhh,” said John understanding, looking to Pip, who nodded in answer to John’s unvoiced question. “So you’re that fast.” Loren shrugged, but sat up a little straighter. “Listen, eat your food — it’s amazing — and while you do, I’m going to start talking. Just nod or shake your head to let me know how I’m doing, okay?” Loren picked up his food and nodded, making John smile. “Perfect.
“So you’re too small to be an Arena fighter, which means you’re either a runt like Pip, or mixed like me.” Loren nodded at the second option. “Okay, now in a larger city like Rieckenburg where Adams are segregated from day one, nothing would have come of it, but maybe in a smaller city all of the kids are lumped together.” Loren made a ‘kinda-sorta’ motion with his hand since his mouth was full. “Okay, we’ll call that ‘close enough’. So at some point, rather than getting beat down by the gene-mod kids, you hold your ground and they see some promise. You probably won’t end up being big enough, and your bones are definitely too brittle to fight Arena matches, but maybe they can at least use you as a punching dummy for the next decade.”
Loren’s face fell and he looked down at his plate. Seeing his distress, Pip interjected, “Seems an awful lot like my story, wouldn’t you say, John?”
“I would, Pip. For what it’s worth, Loren, those same fighters that beat up on you for so long are in the same position here, and I really don’t think any of them will last more than a couple months. They’re too small to square off against our Adams, and too convinced of their superiority and skill to adapt to something else.” He shook his head sadly. “I hope the same isn’t true for you.”
Realizing that they had come to the point, Loren set down his food, looking between the two other men. “So what is it you want me to do?”
“I don’t honestly know,” replied John while holding out his arms. “Pip tells me that you have the same… talent that he does, or at least something similar. I think we could put you to excellent use, helping Pip and the other Adams train, without actually having you fight. Lord, you could even do what I do and become a handler. With your inside knowledge of fighter development, maybe it would be an easy transition. Regardless, you’re apparently the second quickest man in the world, and it would be a shame to throw that away.”
Loren picked up his burrito again and finished it in silence. When done, he took a deep breath and started talking. “So, I guess I have two main thoughts,” he began. “First, whatever I just ate was really good.” John gave him an ‘I told you so’ smile, but was obviously more interested in the next point. “Second, I never really wanted to be a fighter, so I’m not opposed to giving it up. The problem is that I don’t know how to do anything else, so what I think you’re saying sounds like an awfully good solution to me.”
“Good,” John said, sounding a bit relieved. “You might know that Pip’s trainer was killed before this last fight, and we haven’t named an official replacement yet. This means you will be working with me to get him prepped for his next fight.”
“Okay,” replied Loren, sounding more positive than Pip had yet heard him. “How long do we have?”
Pip smiled. “A day shy of two weeks, with Northumberland.”
“What?” Loren exclaimed. “You can’t be serious.”
Pip grinned back ferally. “Absolutely serious. You saw just a little bit of what I can do, and soon they will, too.”
Loren’s eyes narrowed. “Payback for your trainer?” Pip nodded and Loren stared off into space. Standing up, he cracked his neck in both directions, then clapped his hands. “Pip, I think it’s likely this is a bad idea, but you can count me in.”
Chapter 22
Looking lovely as always and now released from bed rest, even with both arms in slings, Maggie walked slowly alongside John through the courtyard. “Sure thing, Mr. Rogers, just let me know what you need.”
“Well, it’s not exactly something I need, but I do have a couple topics for you.” The young woman nodded amiably.
“You know how we had some people come over from Brock-Loren about a week ago?” Maggie nodded. “Most of them aren’t going to find a place here, but there’s a fighter they call Loren that has some real potential. His file says he’s thirty-one years old, but to look at him you’d think he was ten more. His nose is crooked, he’s missing part of an ear, and his face is covered in scars — what the rest of him looks like I don’t want to know, but I assume it’s more of the same. Suffice it to say, life hasn’t been easy for him.
“Not surprisingly, he’s jumpy, rude, and arrogant, and his attitude is getting in the way of some of the things we’re trying to do. I would like to work with him like I did with Pip when he was younger, but I simply don’t have time, and neither does he, for that matter. We have about a week until Pip’s fight, and we need to see a dramatic improvement, or I’ll have to cut him loose.”
“I think I understand,” said Maggie. “I will talk with Madame Bower about it as soon as we’re done. Is there some reason you wanted to speak with me specifically about him?”
“Well…” John said slowly, “that actually has more to do with the second topic.” He paused, gathering courage. “Are you and Pip okay? I haven’t seen you around like before the rally, so I assume something has changed.”
Maggie sighed. “Yeah, that’s really my doing. Just before the last fight Pip and I had a long talk, and I told him that I… well, made a mistake is too strong, but…” She sighed again. “We decided that it was better if we are friends.”
John stopped and looked down at Maggie, trying to read her expression closely. Maggie made eye contact, then looked away, only to look back again. John nodded and started walking again. “Are you okay with how things ended up?”
She nodded sadly. “Yes. It was my choice and Pip was wonderful — is wonderful. I just can’t be there for him the way he needs me to be.”
“Are you sure?” he asked gently.
“Yes, I think.” They walked in silence for a while. “How can you compare yourself to someone like him? He’s, like, the perfect person. He’s beautiful, and sweet, and amazingly strong, and scary, but in a sexy way. I just don’t… fit.”
“What about the other two?”
“The girls? What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said John, “how do they feel about the outcome of your conversation?”
Maggie shrugged, looking down as they walked. “Rosie’s sad. She’s told me that they miss us, and I believe her, I guess. I don’t know.”
“What about the other one?”
Maggie grinned to herself. “She just smiles and kisses my cheek; tells me they’ll be patient. I don’t even know what that means.” She looked up at him. “That woman can be infuriating. Sometimes it’s like she knows what is going to happen and is just waiting for the rest of the world to catch up and get on-board.”
“Do you miss them?”
Maggie stopped again and closed her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek. “So much,” she whispered. “All three of them.”
John pulled her against his side, rubbing her shoulder gently so as not to cause pain to the still-healing clavicle. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I would suggest that you really examine your emotions. Pip is going to be fighting in a week, and if he really is the best fighter in the world, his opponent is a close second. This is likely to be the most dangerous fight he will ever be in, so if you have something to say to him, I would say it soon.”
Across the Complex in a training room, the two subjects of conversation sat together, also talking. “I told you, I don’t control it, but I can feel when it is going to happen,” said Loren sharply. Pip made a calming gesture with his hands and Loren took a deep breath. “Man, I’m trying not to get angry, but we’ve been through this.”
“I know, but it’s really important. If there are two of us that perceive time differently, there are probably more, so the better we understand the Effect, the better we can make it work for us.”
“You mean the better it will work for you.”
“Same thing, Loren. Remember, we’re on the same team here.”
The smaller man let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I know.” He looked away and when he turned back he was calmer. “Okay, let’s try again.”
“Good,” said Pip, pleased that the exchange hadn’t led to a full blowup like some of their previous had. “Maybe we start with something easier. If somebody tries to punch you, time will slow down, right?”
“Depends.”
“It does? I thought that would be a sure thing.”
Loren shrugged. “If it’s a little guy, I just knock him out of the way.”
“And if he pulls out a knife?”
“Well then it would probably slow down, but who would pull out a knife in the middle of a fight?”
“Actually,” Pip said raising his finger, then stopped, “never mind. What if I were to throw a punch?”
“Nothing.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re on the same team, like you said. Why would you try to hurt me?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. You know what, I’m beginning to see why John was so frustrated with me.” Loren gave him a questioning look, but Pip waved it away. “Listen, have you seen the women walking around in blue shirts and tan skirts?” After receiving an affirmative nod, Pip continued, “Let’s take a walk. I want to show you a part of the Complex you probably haven’t seen yet.”
Loren rolled his eyes, but complied anyway. As they approached the Lounge’s main entrance, Pip rang the announcement bell. After only a moment, a young woman with pale blonde hair and striking brown eyes walked through the door, smiling broadly when she saw who had rang. “Hi, Pip. I don’t think Maggie’s here at the moment.”
“Hello, Irena. I was hoping I could speak to Madam Bower for a moment.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll go get her right now.”
“Actually,” Pip interjected, motioning to Loren with his eyes, “I was hoping we could step inside.”
Irena, being the bright young lady that she was, smiled even more broadly. Of course. Just let me make sure everyone is decent and I’ll be right back.” As she turned and walked back through the door, she made sure to emphasize every movement from her feet to her hips.
As the door closed, Pip looked down to his companion, and saw that Loren was barely breathing. “Did time slow down for you?” When he didn’t get a response, he poked Loren in the shoulder and asked again.
Loren snapped out of his daze and responded to an altogether different, unasked question. “That was, without doubt, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
Pip nodded. “She’s a very nice girl, but answer my question: did time slow down?”
Thinking about it for a short while, Loren finally answered, “Yeah, I guess it did, although I didn’t really notice.”
“Good, I thought this might work.”
“Why?”
“Just a hunch,” said Pip with a grin. “Once we’re inside, concentrate on the passage of time and see if you can manipulate it.” Pip turned back to face the door, then added in a whisper out of the corner of his mouth, “And be nice. The women here are one of the main reasons that the Adams stay sane.”
The door soon opened and Irena strutted out with a bright smile, again showing off her physical charms to their fullest. “Madam Bower is ready, Pip. If it’s okay with you, I’ll show your friend around a little bit, introduce him to some of the girls.” When she took hold of Loren’s hand and led him toward the open door, he threw an almost scared look back at Pip over his shoulder. Pip just grinned and headed over to where the departmental matriarch was waiting.
Their discussion was brief, but easy. Ruth understood the situation immediately when Pip told her about Loren’s past and his barely constrained anger. Looking across the large room at Loren, the two of them saw three — and then four — women talking with him. Irena was still holding his hand, and another was slowly rubbing his other arm in a comforting way. As Pip was saying his goodbye to Madam Bower, Maggie came in one of the back doors, fresh from her conversation with John.
Seeing Pip, she abruptly came to a stop and her expression wavered. Pip assumed it was just the surprise of seeing him unexpectedly, but Ruth immediately realized there was something going on within Maggie’s head. Since she had come to see her supervisor anyway, Maggie continued on and approached the pair. “Hi, Pip,” she said a bit awkwardly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Pip shrugged. “It wasn’t a planned thing. I was just talking to Madam Bower about Loren over there,” he said, motioning with a head nod.
Maggie turned to look and saw the other man being fawned over by her PET sisters. “Well that’s kind of funny. I was just talking with Mr. Rogers about him. He thought that we might be able to help,” she said, briefly recapping that portion of the conversation in the courtyard.
“You know, he’s not nearly as ugly as Mr. Rogers made him sound. I mean, to hear him talk, you would think Loren was hit by a truck and sewed back together by Fourth Quarter surgeons.”
“Certainly nowhere near as ugly as Max,” said Ruth fondly. Maggie moved to her mentor and leaned into her, her current equivalent of a hug.
Pip was going to say something, but Ruth stopped him with a look. “No more apologies, Pip. Max was happy to have a real purpose again, and he really liked you, in his own way. With your gift, well, he was sure you could be the best Adam Rieckenburg ever had.” Pip flinched and Maggie noticed.
“What gift?” she said, asking them both. When neither answered, Maggie cocked her hip and adopted her best ‘annoyed parent’ pose with expression to match.
Ruth smiled and patted the younger woman on the back as she began to walk toward Loren. “You kids have some things to discuss. I’ll make sure Loren gets back to where he’s supposed to be when he’s done here.”
With Ruth gone, Pip was left to weather Maggie’s glare alone. “You know, I think she did that on purpose.”
Confusion overcame annoyance and Maggie dropped her affected scowl. She shook her head. “Pip, please tell me what you two are talking about — I’m so lost.” Pip smiled down at her and placed his hand on the small of her back.
“Okay,” he acquiesced. “Let’s head to my room and I’ll fill in the missing parts.”
To say that Maggie was upset at being left out of Pip’s inner circle regarding the Effect would be an understatement. Pip wisely remained silent while she raged. If her arms had been fully healed, she likely would have been throwing furniture, oversized though it was.
Eventually, her anger was spent and she sat on Pip’s lap, snuggling into his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me, Pip?”
Pip led out a deep breath, having known this question was coming. “The simple answer is that you didn’t need to know. It doesn’t really change anything about our relationship — it’s just something that helps me when I fight.”
Maggie shook her head. “That’s not true. Don’t you think it would have been nice for me to know when you went to fight? Do you have any idea how worried I was? I was a blubbering idiot for more than a week.
“Wait,” she said, sitting up suddenly. “Does Rosie know?”
Pip nodded. “She was the one that helped me figure it out.”
“And Rachel?”
“Actually,” said Pip slowly, “I’m not really sure. We’ve never discussed it, and I’m certain that John wouldn’t have mentioned it to her, but she has so much confidence in me, like I’m the second-coming of Gerald Snowden. To be honest, it wouldn’t surprise me if she knows all of our secrets.”
Maggie nodded seriously. “Scary, right?”
Pip agreed with a head bob. “Yeah, maybe. She’s still pretty great, though.”
“She is,” replied Maggie, snuggling back into Pip’s chest.
“Pip, if we’re going to be together — I mean the four of us — we can’t have secrets.”
“Wait, what?” he said, dumbfounded. “I thought there wasn’t going to be ‘the four of us’ anymore.”
Maggie burrowed in closer and said something that was lost in his chest. “What?” he asked. Her second response was just as garbled, so he poked her in the ribs and made her pop up with a squeak. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes, so he gently raised her head with a finger under the chin. “What did you say?”
“I made a mistake, Pip. I’m so, so scared that you won’t come back one day. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you — that you’ll get bored of me. I’m scared that I don’t measure up to Rosie or Rachel, and that I’m holding you all back.” She had been looking away, anywhere but his eyes, but now she looked at him directly. “But I don’t care. I want to be with you. I missed the other PET girls, my friends, but not seeing the three of you every day — it was like having my heart torn out over and over again. Can you forgive me?”
Pip immediately released her chin and leaned down to kiss her deeply. When they broke apart her eyes were wet, but she was smiling. “Maggie, it really hurt to not have you with me anymore, but there’s nothing to forgive. You were just trying to figure things out, the same as all of us, and I don’t think you meant to be dishonest or hurtful.” He sighed. “Truthfully, I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. The only real exception is when I’m trying to punch somebody in the head. At least that is straightforward most of the time.”
“Thank you, Pip.”
“You’re welcome, but I should also apologize. I should have seen that you were missing something.
“You know, you don’t have to spend all your time with us. Talk with Madam Bower — I have a strong suspicion she already knows what you need, even if you’re still figuring it out.” Maggie snuggled back into him. “Should we go find the other two and tell them?”
Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think we need to — knowing Rachel, she will be by with Rosie in a quarter bell anyway.” Pip smiled at the thought, then pulled a blanket from his bed onto both of them. When Rachel and Rosie did arrive, they found the couple sleeping peacefully, and quietly crawled onto the bed themselves for a midday nap.
The reunion was loud and happy, but Pip only saw the first part, because he was quickly kicked out of the room and told to find something productive to do while the girls talked.
Without anything planned, Pip headed toward the courtyard and was pleased to find Loren, who was sitting alone, as always. Approaching slowly to avoid surprising his trainer-in-training, Pip seated himself next to to the man. Loren seemed to be completely consumed by his own thoughts, so Pip laid back to look up at the gray sky, resting his head on laced fingers. His mind was somewhere up there, among the indistinct clouds, when Loren spoke.
“I have some thoughts about that experience.”
Pip smiled to himself. “I bet they involved ladies in blue and the passage of time.”
Loren turned and stared down at Pip, giving him a dirty look. “Smart ass. I bet you want to talk about the second thing.”
“Sure, but I’m not in any rush. The women that run my life told me to find something to do, so I have nothing but time.”
“No training with John?”
Pip shook his head, or tried to do so while laying down. “Just some light cardio today: tapering down for the fight. That’s why I’ve been able to spend some time with you these last few days.”
“Lucky me.”
Pip found shrugging was also difficult in his current position. “You could go hang out with your Brock-Loren friends. There are still two or three of them around, right?”
“Two, and no thank you.” Loren laid back himself, his hands folded on his stomach. “I don’t mean to be such a shit, Pip. I’m not used to having people to talk to — I hope you’ll be patient with me.”
“Sure.” They let the silence settle for a hundred heartbeats, then another. “You know, though…”
“Yes?” said Loren, rolling his head sideways to look at Pip.
“You really are a pain.”
“Um huh,” grinned Loren as he looked back to the sky. “It’s one of my defining characteristics.”
“Don’t worry. Madam Bower’s girls will fix that.”
“Fine by me. Anything at all they want to do is fine by mean.” Pip chuckled softly and Loren turned to look at him again. “Pip, every single one of those women is… Damn, I don’t even have a word for it. Smart, beautiful, kind. If I wouldn’t have been able to process things slower, I think something in my brain would have burned out.”
“I usually use the word, ‘lovely’, because it shows appreciation for them without focusing just on the physical aspects of what they do.”
“You know,” said Loren thoughtfully, “I doubt I’ve said that word in my entire life.”
Pip let out a quick burst of laughter. “No doubt. You don’t strike me as a ‘lovely’ kind of guy.” After a pause, he continued, “Did I understand right that you figured out how the Effect works?”
Loren nodded. “I think so.” He was quiet a moment before continuing. “There was this time when I was… oh, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four years old. I wasn’t as quick as I am now, but was faster than any of the other fighters. There was a big match coming up, so they wanted me to spar with the Brock. Not just once or twice, but every single day for the entire lead-up. Of course he caught me — just once — and shattered my hip. I was in traction for three months while the bones mended. When I was finally able to stand, I couldn’t really remember how to make the muscles work.
“Once I knew what to look for when we were in with the ladies, it was a bit like that. I have so much experience with what you call ‘the Effect’ that parts of it seemed completely natural, but at the same time there was no muscle memory, or whatever the equivalent would be, and so I could barely influence it. I assume that part gets easier?”
Pip tried to nod. “When those bullets were coming toward me at the rally, I was able to slow them down so that they were moving two or three hand spans for every beat of my time. My guess is that you could get to that point with practice.”
Loren frowned. “How fast does a bullet actually move?”
“No idea,” replied Pip, “but it’s fast. When I fight with people, their bodies barely move, so I have all the time I need to figure things out. I could make a hundred small changes in the time it takes an opponent to make one. There are still limits, but there is a much bigger margin for error.”
As he finished, a form walked up to stand over them. Back lit by the sky, Pip had to form blinders with his hands to recognize his handler. “Hey, John. Wanna Join us?”
John immediately laid down on Pip’s other side, even though he was wearing his formal work attire. “What are we doing?”
“Aside from the obvious, we were just talking. It seems Loren has started to gain some measure of control over the Effect.”
John got up on an elbow and looked across Pip to the other man. “Good for you. How did you do it?”
“That was the other thing we were discussing,” Pip answered. “I took him to see Madam Bower’s girls.”
“In the Lounge?” asked John, clearly surprised. “Loren, my friend, you’re lucky they didn’t eat you alive.”
Loren smiled timidly. “Not such a bad way to go, really,” he said, making the other two laugh.
They continued on, amiably chatting about nothing in particular. For Loren, the experience was a first, and he seemed to be progressively more relaxed as time passed. The dynamic changed somewhat when three young ladies walked into their line of sight, smiling and waving. Pip smiled in return while Loren openly gawped. “Hi, girls. This is Loren, new here from Brock-Loren,” he said before introducing Maggie, Rosie, and Rachel. They wanted to know what the three men were doing, and decided that laying in the fresh air sounded pretty good. Rather than finding their own spots, Rosie and Rachel each took one of Pip’s arms, while Maggie gingerly lowered herself onto his chest, once again snuggling in close. When Pip snuck a look at Loren, it looked like the new guy’s eyes were about to jump out of his head.
Casual conversation continued amongst the group, except for Maggie, who had quickly fallen into a light sleep, snoring softly.
It wasn’t long until a couple walked over, asking to join them. Pip didn’t immediately recognize either of them until the man started talking, at which point he realized it was Doug from the lunch crew, minus his beard. The woman holding his hand was apparently from the same department, as she was also wearing a white labcoat, which set off her black hair. The pair laid down in the vicinity of John’s head and general, inconsequential but enjoyable conversation resumed. By the time the top of the bell chimed, two more couples had joined them — along with Irena, the blonde PET girl, who decided to lay next to Loren — and two or three conversations were going simultaneously. For his part, Pip was quiet, just enjoying being surrounded by people he liked, even if he didn’t know all of them very well.
When Director Collins walked over, looking stern, conversation slowed and then stopped. She looked down at them, clearly confused. “What on earth is going on?” she said.
Rather than answer, John, who was still lying on his back, of course, reached out his arms and smiled. In response, Lilith held up a warning finger and shook her head vehemently. A fiercely contested non-verbal battle of wills ensued, which was ultimately won through cunning use of John’s ‘sad eyes’. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Lilith kicked off her shoes, comfortable as they were, and laid down on his chest. “Cheater,” she stated flatly. John just laughed and wrapped his arms around her.
At the dinner bell, Pip gently displaced the girls and sat up. To his right, Lilith and John were asleep, and on his left, Irena was curled up on Loren’s shoulder while he gently rubbed her back. Pip patted the man’s other shoulder with a smile and stood, joined by Maggie and Rachel, who had just woken. After bending to take a still dozing Rosie in his arms, they walked off toward the cafeteria to get dinner.
Chapter 23
Once again doing his extended stretching routine, Pip reflected on the previous week. Following his conversation with Maggie, their relationship had become better. Maggie was more open with him, and they were working toward finding a new normal. Rosie was thrilled to have her best friend back in the fold, and Rachel was Rachel. All in all, that side of his life was going very well.
As far as preparation for the fight, that had also gone surprisingly well. Loren was still short tempered, but his interpersonal skills appeared to be improving, thanks in no small part to a particular buxom blonde. Even better was that Loren could now slow time at will, although he couldn’t yet control the rate of time progression. This made it possible for he and Pip to spar again, and both had improved as a result. A spectator watching the duo practice could be excused for thinking they were doing some sort of highly specific, choreographed dance, as there was only the occasional light touch when Pip got past his trainer’s guard. On Loren’s side, he had not yet managed to slip through Pip’s defense, but he had gotten close several times and was positive it would eventually happen. Even in the presence of a clearly superior opponent, Loren was always self-confident to the point of arrogance, challenging Pip again and again. Pip loved his resolve, and began to think that the two might be friends after all.
At the end of the first day, Pip stumbled back to his room, almost too tired to walk. He and Loren has dueled for almost the entire day, only stopping briefly for lunch and refueling breaks. While the physical stress was high, the mental toll was what really wiped him out. The second day was better for Pip, but he still fell asleep with his workout clothes on, which made Rosie laugh and Maggie wrinkle her nose. The third was better still, and Pip actually managed a shower before bed. On the fourth day, Pip woke up feeling rested and ready, but Loren didn’t show. When he had gone to Loren’s room and knocked, an irritated and tired Irena opened the door. “Please, Pip,” she said, “take it easy on him. I think you’re pushing too hard.”
Pip leaned his head back and laughed, then struggled to quiet himself so as not to wake the sleeping man. “I’m sorry, Irena — I’ll try not to push him so hard. Tell your sleeping prince I came by and that he can find me when he’s ready.”
With only three days until the fight, they didn’t actually spar anymore, but they did talk well into the afternoon with John, discussing the Effect, tactics, and even future opponents. Pip spent the entire following day with his girls. They couldn’t lay in the courtyard again because of rain, but Pip enjoyed the time all the same, and again felt ready when he boarded the transport.
Just before the final time ticked away, Pip slowed time to a crawl: a suggestion from John. As the door slowly slid open, Pip moved through in a crouch and surged forward with a burst of speed, intending to startle or at least unnerve his opponent. After all, Presto was a veteran of nine fights, the most in the history of the Arena. When the opposite door cleared his opponent’s head, Pip was already a third of the way across the room.
The man was professional, so if he was surprised at Pip’s charge, he didn’t show it. The man also wasn’t Presto. Rather than send their Number One, Northumberland had entered their Number Two. Timber had won three fights, all against smaller cities, and was impressive in his own right. Standing two full hands taller than Pip, the man was bald and blocky, with his entire left arm covered in tattoos. As the two neared, Pip abruptly checked his run and jumped to his right, sending a spray of sand into the other’s face. Timber had set his weight forward to meet Pip, and thus needed a half step to keep from toppling forward. While he righted himself, which only took two beats, Pip closed the distance and slammed his elbow into the man’s ribs from behind. The resulting crack was not what Pip expected, and he leaped backward, exerting full control of the effect to clear a distance longer than he was tall. Backing up to assess the situation, he saw his opponent right himself and stalk forward again.
The blow Pip delivered had been thrown with force and landed solidly; while he didn’t expect it to be fatal, he did expect it to hinder the big man by making it difficult to breathe. Assessing the situation while backpedaling in slow time, Pip realized that something was off, and it had to involve his opponents skeletal system.
Given the circumstances, the only important aspect of this realization was to find a way to overcome whatever competitive advantage this man had. If his ribs were strong enough to ward off a direct strike, his legs were almost certainly a no-go, unless he could find an unprotected joint, which was unlikely given the guy’s skill. Body blows would be better if there were enough of them, but the man’s long arms made this dangerous, and getting near his head was going to be difficult.
Pip continued to stay away from Timber while he searched for a solution. Given his recent training with Loren, holding timing for long periods was easier than it had ever been. Thinking of Loren reminded Pip of the man’s story, which was the genesis for an idea that developed into a plan, all while the larger man took two steps toward Pip.
Moving quickly once again, Pip faced up to his adversary and threw a left jab, aiming at the man’s right side. As Pip expected, rather than dropping his arm to protect his side, Timber threw his own left hand, which Pip easily avoided by abandoning his punch and stepping aside. With his suspicion confirmed, Pip began to methodically fire off jabs and snap kicks at different targets, never actually making it possible to get hit. The response was always the same: a willingness to absorb a strike if it meant a chance to hit Pip in return. That was, until Pip threw and overhand right at Timber’s lead left shoulder. Rather than throw an answering right cross, the larger man rolled his shoulder to block the strike in what was clearly a conditioned response.
Smiling inwardly at the irony of what he was about to do, Pip fired two more snap kicks at the other’s lead leg, then stepped forward with his best hammer strike, directed at Timer’s left collar bone. Timber had clearly been paying attention as well, and as he once again rolled his shoulder, stepped forward simultaneously to close the gap. Pip had nowhere to go, but fortunately didn’t need it. As his arm had come up for the strike, Pip had also surreptitiously raised his lead leg, so when Timber’s arm came forward, Pip stamped down directly on the side of Timber’s knee, which buckled immediately.
While Timber flailed and fell in slow time, Pip’s second leg was already moving forward. An instant after the bigger man’s body hit the ground, Pip’s heel connected with the edge of his pelvis right behind the femoral head, snapping off bone and dislodging the thigh bone entirely. As the downed man howled in pain and bent to grab his shattered hip, Pip brought his hands together and then down onto the side of his opponent’s head; Pip was rewarded with the sound of snapping vertebrae and then silence.
Stepping back, Pip looked around him. The walls and dome were still white, meaning that the fight, while intense, had again been brief. In front of him, Timber was crumpled in a heap, and for the first time, such a site disturbed Pip. It wasn’t the unnatural angle of the man’s head, or the way his leg faced the wrong way on the sand: it was that idea that such a skilled opponent shouldn’t be left in such a state.
When the doors opened, Doc and Stitches started to rush in to the arena, only to be stopped short by a body lying across the front of the door. Timber’s head and leg had been repositioned so that they looked natural, and his arms were clasped in front of him; his eyes were closed. Standing next to the wall, Pip had his arms crossed, waiting for the scene about to play out.
Two Northumberland doctors were now in the arena, looking confused and then angry. Behind them was an enormous man, the biggest that Pip had ever seen.
Seeing Pip next to Timber’s body, the third man strode forward confidently, ready for an altercation if there was to be one. When he stopped half a dozen paces from Pip, the two looked each other up and down. It was Pip that broke the silence. “I don’t approve of what your city did. They killed a friend of mine, and others. I won’t let that go.” He looked down at the body. “But I doubt this man had anything to do with those plans. Tell his friends — his family if he had one — that he earned my respect.”
The other man, who Pip had immediately recognized as Presto, gave him a slow, cautious nod. “I will.”
Pip nodded and stepped over the corpse. As he passed through the door, he paused and turned. “I’ll be back here in two weeks. I hope it’s you standing across from me.”
Presto grinned viciously. “That, I can guarantee.” Pip nodded, satisfied, and continued out of the building.
In the transport back, Pip again recapped the fight in general terms. When he got to the end, he held out his closed fist facing upward.
“What do you have?” asked Stitches, leaning forward to look.
Pip made them wait a few heartbeats, enjoying being just a little dramatic, then opened his hand to reveal a finger. Stitches gasped in shock and sat back quickly; the doctor immediately reached forward and took it out of Pip’s hand. “Your opponent’s?”
Pip nodded. “The last finger from his left hand.”
Recovering, Stitches sat forward again. “Is that why you positioned him like you did?”
“One of the reasons,” Pip replied.
“Well done, Pip,” said Doctor Shepard. “We’ll start tests as soon as we get back and figure out what they did to the bone.”
“Thanks, Doc — that was just what I had in mind. You have two weeks to get it done.”
The old man raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything as he flexed the finger back and forth.
Northerumberland lodged a formal complaint with the Arena Board about the missing finger, but it amounted to nothing in the end. Arena lore was rich in history, including one particularly infamous fighter who removed an ear from each defeated opponent, before eventually suffering the same fate. When pressed why the finger was so important, Northumberland dropped the complaint.
The finger itself was split into its three component bones, the first of which was analyzed using a battery of tests. Within three days, the Complex’s scientists knew that the bones, while still a calcium and phosphate matrix, had been largely filled in with calcium carbonate and small amounts of iron. In essence, the bones were partially fossilized.
While the increased density added significant strength — almost fifty percent, as shown by testing the second bone — it also meant that they were heavier. Consequently, movement would necessarily be slower, as muscles could only compensate so much. So said the folks in the white lab coats.
Pip wasn’t convinced. He had seen the way Timber moved, and it had been plenty quick enough to do real damage. Presto was even larger, and the way he walked across the Arena floor made Pip think of a trained dancer: powerful with perfectly controlled movements. All together, fighting Presto looked like an absolute nightmare.
The oddity of the situation was that both sides were now scrambling to develop new measures and countermeasures. For Northumberland, the increased bone density had clearly been a competitive advantage. Upon finding bones missing, they had to know that their secret was no longer intact. Furthermore, Pip had identified weak points during the fight, striking the knee hard enough to rupture ligaments and the hip hard enough to fracture bone. How could they compensate for an opponent with such speed, as also demonstrated on the rally video.
On the other side, Rieckenburg now knew what to expect, but surely Northumberland would change tactics. A skilled fighter could protect his legs if he had to, and Presto was probably too tall for Pip to hit in the head or neck. Even with his quickness advantage, the available targets open to Pip would be few.
With two days remaining and all training complete, Pip decided not too worry about it anymore. John wanted to talk fight strategy, but Pip was more interested in the big picture. “Listen, John, I will have to see how it goes. I may be up against an opponent with no weaknesses, and if that’s the case, I’ll lose. If he does have a weak point, then it’s my job to find it. Talking about hypotheticals isn’t going to help — it just wears me out. What I’m more interested in is why Presto didn’t fight last week.”
Seeing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his preferred topic, John gave in. “I would call it something like managing risk. I talked it over with Director Humbolt and he agrees. Essentially, they send in an opponent that might not be able to beat you, but can at least keep you from fighting for a while by beating you up. In reserve they have their champion, which means we won’t be in a hurry to schedule more fights, because we don’t want to send Stash against him. If they would have sent Presto at you and he lost, even if you were out of the picture for a while, we still have a legitimate Lead Adam that can go immediately.”
“But isn’t that more-or-less the same thing? So what if it’s Stash fighting Presto instead of me?”
“Come on, Pip, use your head. Can you beat Stash?” Pip shrugged and nodded. “Can you beat Presto?”
“Maybe. I certainly think I can.”
“Right. So can Stash beat Presto?”
Pip thought about it, then shook his head. “I doubt it. Anything is possible in an Arena fight, but it’s not very likely.
“Alright, I see your point. So do you figure this happened because they saw the rally video?”
John nodded. “Almost certainly. If I had to take a guess, I would say that they’ve seen somebody like you before. Maybe like Loren, or maybe an Adam — it doesn’t actually matter. What you showed in that video was unnatural quickness, and they know it, so they chose not to underestimate you.”
“I see,” said Pip. “Is it time to let the council know?”
John took a deep breath and released it. “Lilith asked me the same thing, but I’m not sure. At the very least, I want to wait until after this fight, and then make a decision. They’re so wound up about the bone density topic that another paradigm shift might cause somebody to have an aneurysm.”
“You know I told Maggie?”
“I figured. I won’t tell you that it would have been my recommendation, but she needed something to hold onto to know that you really trust her. Things are better now?”
Pip nodded. “Very good. Better than before, actually.”
“Glad to hear it.” Standing up, John patted Pip on the shoulder. “If you don’t want to talk more about the fight, I think the best thing you can do is go spend time with her and the other two. I can’t think of a single other thing that is going to help you prepare for Presto.”
Chapter 24
Instead of charging into the Arena, Pip took three purposeful strides and stopped, assessing. Across the sand, as if they had planned such a moment, Presto did the same. Of course, the latter covered more distance, which amounted to what would be almost a full stride more than Pip.
Without preamble, Presto called out, “It was disingenuous to mock Timber to cover up your theft.”
Pip responded with a brief shake of his head. “I was entirely genuine. I respect the skill he showed and hoped to relay that appropriately. The other part was necessary, and my right as the victor — I will not apologize.”
The larger man stared intently for half a hundred beats, then abruptly relaxed. “I believe you.” He then backed toward the door behind him, and sat down, legs crossed, leaning backward. “They allow a full bell for these fights, which is always too much. If it suits you, I would prefer to talk for the first half. Then we can try to kill each other as demanded.”
Pip was intrigued, but also wary, so he didn’t back up, but squatted down into a resting posture, arms wrapped around his knees with his head propped on top. “Agreed, but the first quarter only, and if I feel like you’re playing head games, it ends.”
“Fair enough,” replied Presto with his arms stretched wide. “Then if you’ll allow me, I have a question in mind. How is it you can move so fast?”
Pip managed a slight shrug. “I was born this way, but that’s all I’ll say. I won’t give you an advantage, just because you asked.”
Presto gave a brief laugh. “Yeah, I thought that would be the case, but I had to try. When I saw the video of you dodging bullets — most of them anyway,” he said with a wink, “I was so fascinated. For what it’s worth, I had nothing to do with that shooter. You may not believe me, but I believe in the Arena. Otherwise, my entire life has been a waste.”
Pip nodded, “On this, we agree.”
The big blonde man grinned. “You know, I tried to replicate what you did. I had one of the trainers get a gun, and shoot it at my hand to see if I could get it out of the way. Same range, same general setup, except I knew it was coming.” He held up his left hand where a wound was still healing between the third and fourth metacarpals. “It didn’t work very well.” He paused, then his grin broadened into a full smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my main trainer so pissed. That alone was probably worth it.” The smile faltered, then slipped away. “If I didn’t know better,” he shook his head disbelievingly, “I would have said the entire thing was staged.”
Pip held up his own arm, showing his not-quite-healed wound. Presto nodded and waved acceptance.
“You know what I think?” Presto asked rhetorically. “I think you somehow process information faster than everyone else. I don’t know how that is possible, but it’s the only thing I can come up with. I’ve studied that fucking tape a hundred times, and I went step-by-step through Timber’s autopsy with the doctors. Nothing else fits, because even us modified bastards still have reaction times of about point-oh-eight seconds.” Pip raised his eyebrows, so the other explained. “That’s an archaic measurement term for time. It’s more precise than talking in beats and bells, so it’s what the white-coats use. The important thing is that to dodge bullets, your reaction time has to be a tenth of that, or maybe even faster. I talked that over with them, and they tell me it’s a physical impossibility.”
Pip just shrugged again, declining to respond.
“Okay, so not super talkative. Understandable given the present circumstances, so since we still have a few minutes — that’s another one of those white-coat time terms — you ask me something. I will be as truthful as I can.”
Pip waited only a few beats before asking, “Do you think you can beat me?”
A smile immediately returned to his opponent’s face. “Oh, I like this question very much.” He rubbed his hands together. “Very much.
“The short answer, is ‘yes.’ The longer answer is, ‘yes, but I hope that you will at least put up a good fight.”
“Why so confident?” asked Pip with genuine curiosity.
“You know how many times I’ve been to this Arena?” Pip nodded. “Do you know how many of those I was ever in danger of losing.” Pip didn’t respond, so after letting the tension build dramatically, Presto continued, “not a single one.” Pip raised his eyebrow again, and Presto gladly continued. “There were good fighters, and I won’t deny that a couple of them injured me, but the actual outcome of the fights was never in doubt.”
Presto paused, considering how to continue. “I assume you know about my… durability.” Again, Pip didn’t respond in any way. “Well, until two weeks ago, that was our city’s most closely guarded secret. Even other cities’ fighters that are as big as me and as strong as me, can’t go toe-to-toe with me and expect to last. They used to talk about a puncher’s chance, and that just doesn’t apply when the opponent is me.” The same wolfish, aggressive smile that Pip had seen two weeks before appeared. “The truth is, you were dead the moment you arrived here. I bet you’re not even half my weight, which means the first time I hit you will be the last time I hit you. The only question for me is how long it will take.”
As if on cue, the ceiling changed from white to blue, signaling the match was a quarter over.
“Oh well,” said Presto as he smoothly rose to his feet, “all good things must come to an end. Anything you want me to tell that hot brunette of yours?”
“Nah,” said Pip confidently as he also rose, “I’ll tell her myself.”
Presto’s eyes narrowed, not liking the confidence that Pip was showing. Without further preamble, he began to move forward in a fighting stance, left leg leading. Pip also had his left foot forward, but in a much more neutral stance, while electing to hold his ground. This surprised the older, more experienced fighter, as fight doctrine argued for circling away from an opponent’s dominant hand. Of course, Presto was fully ambidextrous, but departure from established norms was still odd.
Stopping a pace and a half from Pip, Presto rocked lightly on his feet, ready for whatever trick Pip had in mind. When nothing happened for a hundred count, Presto quickly surged forward with a jab step and corresponding left hand. Of course, Pip had slowed his perception of time, so he saw that the range of the punch was slightly off, allowing him to drop his right shoulder slightly and avoid the punch entirely, without actually moving much. After throwing the punch, Presto quickly regained his fighting stance at the previous spacing. His predatory smile came back again. “You are really fucking fast. I think this is going to be a challenge after all.”
Even as he was finishing the sentence, Presto was already moving forward again, this time with a shuffle to keep his legs under him so as to put more power in his strikes. A flurry of punches soon followed from both hands: jabs and crosses, all thrown with the ability to end the match immediately. On the receiving end, Pip bobbed and weaved and occasionally used one of his hands to redirect a punch — Presto’s range was now perfect.
Having failed to hit the smaller man again, Presto once again retreated, face angry and red, as he alternated breathing and swearing. Regaining his composure, he once again came forward, adding knees, elbows, and kicks to the mix. Even with time slowed, it took a tremendous amount of skill for Pip to avoid the strikes, because Presto’s reach was so much longer.
It was a wheel kick from Presto’s right leg that sent Pip stumbling backwards, although it didn’t actually connect. The larger man, eager to finally capitalize, charged forward and threw a tremendous left hand, intending to end the fight with a single blow. Pip, having feigned the stumble, saw Presto overextend as he had hoped. As he stepped to his right, Pip caught the strike at the wrist with his left hand and slammed into the back side of Presto’s elbow with his open right palm, then leaped away quickly. With a roar of pain, Presto swung his now ruined arm in a wide ark, not even close to Pip.
With the smaller man now some distance away, Presto stumbled toward the wall at its closest point, and leaned against it for support. Pip let time resume its normal course and assessed the situation. His opponent was breathing heavily and was red in the face from the combination of adrenaline, anger, exertion, and a lot of pain.
Becoming the aggressor, Pip moved forward slowly, arms up in case Presto lunged at him again. With time once again progressing slowly, there was no need for Pip to size up his opponent from close range, so it looked to Presto like the smaller man just walked up to him and starting firing punches. Presto simply took the punches on his now forward right arm, shrugging them off harmlessly, but in doing so he turned away from Pip to protect his left arm. The result was that Pip placed a well-timed left shin into the side of Presto’s thigh.
The solid hit seemed to shock Presto back into the fight, and he moved forward with a counter strike, narrowly missing Pip’s head. In return, Pip took the opportunity to plant his left fist into Presto’s side, not hard enough to break ribs — nor his own hand — but certainly adequate to cause the desired effect: pain.
Presto once again backed toward the wall, and as before, Pip advanced. Now it was Presto who was trying to stay out of range, fighting defensively, as Pip continued to pepper him with strikes.
With only one arm available , Presto tried to keep Pip back with his long reach, mixing short and long jabs while always being careful not to once again overextend. Consequently, the punches were not thrown as hard as they had been, and were much easier to dodge. Additionally, as the ceiling and walls turned from blue to yellow, Presto’s fist was held noticeably lower as the strain of using a single arm repeatedly resulted in the rapid replacement of glucose with lactic acid.
Knowing that he still had half a bell, Pip was relentless in pressing, although unhurried. Changing his approach slightly, Pip switched primarily to kicking Presto’s legs, as it offset the reach advantage of the larger man’s arms. It was when Presto himself threw a punch, or kick, that Pip would use his hands and elbows to counter, always striking hard into the muscles and bone beneath.
As the room turned red, Presto was limping badly, barely able to put weight on his right leg, which was already a mottled red and purple mess. Similarly, Presto’s right arm now regularly hung limp at his side, only raised to deflect an occasional higher strike. It was clear to both men that Presto was simply trying to survive. Following a particularly vicious kick to his right thigh, that knee dropped into the sand. Without the ability to once again stand, the nine-time winner rolled onto to his back next to the wall with his feet raised, ready to kick out when Pip came closer.
Pip actually paused and took a couple strides back, putting his hands on his hips. Shaking off the unexpected approach, he stalked forward again, circling one direction and then the other. As Pip stepped toward the downed man’s right side, Presto fired off a relatively weak upward kick — the best he could do. Given that time was running out, Pip had utilized his full strength and leverage of the Effect as he stomped down on the extended thigh. With an audible crack, Presto’s femur broke, the result of microfractures that expanded and combined due to the dozens of strikes landed over the previous half bell.
With two limbs fully crippled and a third barely functioning, panic set in and Presto flailed wildly with his left leg. Without time remaining to methodically incapacitate the leg, Pip moved quickly from side to side, back and forth, as Presto continued to lash out frantically. Jumping to his left, past a wild kick, Pip brought his heel down once again, this time on the right side of Presto’s pelvis in roughly the same spot as he had done to Timber. Again, bone broke and Presto howled.
The pain was such that the hobbled man involuntarily rolled over onto his left side, trying to ease pressure as bone fragments moved around, causing damage to muscle, tendon, and ligament. With his opponent’s back fully exposed, Pip took a step and then kicked Presto in the back of the neck.
Unfortunately for Presto, the final kick didn’t immediately kill him, but it did stop virtually all function below the neck as partially fractured vertebrae cut into the spinal cord in several places. Thus, instead of the quick end that Pip had intended, the former champion spent his last moments fully aware that he couldn’t breathe, mouth working to no effect.
When the doors opened, Pip immediately walked through, catching the doctor and his assistant as he did so, cutting off any questions before they could be asked. Consequently, the Northumberland support staff never got a good look at him, seeing only Pip’s back as he went through the door. Only when the trio was inside the transport did Pip begin to answer questions.
No, he was not seriously hurt, but his right heel was bruised, as were his hands. Yes, their analysis had been correct about Presto’s bones — he was very durable, to use the fighter’s own word. Yes, several of their ideas had worked.
Pip did not want to recap the fight multiple times again, so he requested that the doctor wait until the following day’s briefing with the council. Although Doctor Shepard was obviously disappointed, seeming almost like a boy waiting to open a present, the older man relented and Pip dozed lightly for the remainder of the return trip.
As always, John was waiting when the transport arrived at the Complex; uncharacteristically, Director Collins was not present beside him, nor were his girls. Pip stepped down and gave his handler a hug, after which John looked him over critically, including close examination of Pip’s hands. Releasing them, John smiled broadly. “You’re in even better shape than after the last fight. I take it you found a weakness?”
“Or two,” Pip replied. “I’m looking forward to telling you, but not tonight. Tonight I want to see my girls, especially Maggie.”
“Well…” John started dramatically.
“Okay,” Pip sighed, “what’s going on?”
John held out his arms, palms skyward. “Good news,” he said motioning with his right hand, “or bad news?” repeating the movement with his left.
“Bad news.”
John dropped his right arm. “In the event of a convincing victory — meaning that you are still ambulatory and not seriously concussed or bleeding profusely,” he smirked, “I am to bring you directly to the Council chambers for the debrief.”
Pip looked shocked. “Why?”
“It seems that the Executive Director has had enough of me keeping her in the dark regarding your particular, uh, skill set,” said John without sounding disappointed. “I’m actually surprised she let it go this long without calling us to account.”
“Okay, but why now?”
John shrugged and shook his head. “Probably because you’re still breathing.” Pip gave him a questioning look. “Pip, the Executive Director is a smart lady, and I know she’s been watching you closely. Now you just put down the best fighter in the world, and while I don’t know any of the details yet, I didn’t see a scratch on you. I know how it’s possible, and I’m still not sure I believe it. Consider her position, and you can see why she might be a little impatient. There’s probably also a component of not wanting to leave us alone too long to get our stories straight,” he concluded with a smile.
“What does she know so far?”
“The same as she did before.”
“Really? You didn’t tell her about the Effect already?” Pip asked in surprise.
“Nope,” replied John, looking satisfied.
Pip shook his head and the two started walking. “What’s the good news?” Pip asked.
“You’ll get to see your lady friends at the debriefing. I demanded — no, that’s too strong — I insisted strongly that they be invited.”
Now Pip grinned. “So you were a pain in the ass until they said ‘yes’.” John nodded proudly. “Will Loren be there, too?”
John nodded again. “Yes. I had him registered as your official trainer, so he’s expected.”
“Does he know you did that?” asked Pip.
Shrugging, John replied, “I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”
Chapter 25
John led the way into the Council room with Pip following closely behind. Pip had only just stepped into the room when Maggie ran to him. Picking her up gently to avoid doing further damage to her still healing arms, he held her closely. Motioning his head down, she leaned up and whispered several plans she had worked out during his time away. Pulling back, Pip looked at her and raised an eyebrow, causing her to giggle and give him a quick kiss.
Pip set down the curly haired girl next to Rosie, who looked relieved, and Rachel, who appeared content. Seeing all three of the women overwhelmed him for a moment, but he quickly regained composure with the benefit of the Effect, giving him the time needed to collect his thoughts. Letting time flow again, he leaned over and gave both Rachel and Rosie quick, heartfelt hugs, then turned to face the assembled council.
All of the male directors in the room were smiling, clearly happy — overjoyed, really — with the outcome of the fight. The Executive Director and Lilith, however, wore neutral expressions. When Pip’s eyes met those of the Executive Director, she gestured to the open chair at the end of the table opposite her. As he walked to the assigned place, he saw that John had joined Loren along the wall, while the girls stayed together near the door.
“Welcome back, Pip,” started the Executive Director, “and congratulations on another outstanding victory.” The assembled directors rapped their knuckles on the table in applause. “Before we get to today’s fight, I think it’s time we cleared the air, as they used to say.” Pip remained silent, waiting for the question he was expecting. “There are some new faces in your retinue. I’m sure the Council would appreciate being introduced.”
Pip immediately clamped down on time again to hide his surprise. Consequently, there was no quick intake of breath, nor widening of his eyes. Instead, he responded smoothly, “Of course, ma’am.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Council, please allow me to introduce Rosaline Smythe, my First, and Magdalena Samuel, my Second. Each of the ladies stepped forward briefly with a nod when introduced. My personal assistant is Rachel Frazier, who I believe most of you already know. Rachel smiled and nodded. Next to Mr. Rogers is my trainer, Loren, formerly a fighter for Brock-Loren.” There were some raised eyebrows and shifting at the mention of another city, but none of the directors said anything aloud. For his part, Loren remain stoic along the wall.
“Thank you, Pip,” said the Executive Director. “Now, if you would, please tell us about the fight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Pip, as he immediately began recounting the day’s action. Having been through a debriefing before, Pip had a good idea of what to expect from the Council members.
Director Baker was again effusive in his praise without actually adding much substantive content.
Director Richards was extremely engaged, often derailing the story flow with highly specific inquiries about minutiae that no one else seemed to care about.
Director Humbolt asked clarifying questions that often diffused remarks from the others before they could be spoken.
And as with the previous debriefings, Director Collins was uncharacteristically quiet.
Throughout his account, the Executive Director remained entirely silent, leading Pip to believe that another private interview would be forthcoming.
It took more than a full bell to simply get through the account of the conversation with Presto. Nobody in the room had heard of such a thing before, so there were many questions and much debate.
“Why did you tell him a quarter bell?” asked Director Humbolt.
“Doctor Shepard and I discussed this fight at length over the last two weeks. He suspected, and subsequently suggested to me, that there is a limit to the amount of energy a fighter can store. Bigger muscles burn through energy very quickly, so I believe that my opponent was trying to decrease the amount of time he would have to fight in a worst case scenario. I also suspect it was intended as a sort of verbal jab, intended to plant doubt.” Geoff Humbolt nodded appreciatively, and Pip continued on to the actual fight.
When Pip described how he had incapacitated Presto’s left arm, it was again Director Humbolt that asked the relevant question. “How did you know it would work?”
“I didn’t,” replied Pip. Humbolt gave him a questioning look, so Pip continued. “When I told Presto that I would give Maggie my own message, he seemed to get angry, just for a moment. I saw something similar when he couldn’t hit me after the first couple exchanges, only more pronounced. My thought at the time was that if I could frustrate him enough, he would leave himself open for a counterstrike.”
“But why the elbow?” asked the director. “How did you decide on that?”
Pip shook his head. “It wasn’t a decision so much as seizing the opportunity that presented itself. As I already described, I faked a stumble, but I didn’t really know what he would do.”
“And you knew to work against the joint. How?”
“You can credit Dr. Shepard and Mr. Rogers for that,” responded Pip. “Dr. Shepard used the third bone from the last fight to figure out roughly how many strikes would need to land in a single location to actually break the reinforced bones. For bones in the arm, it was around a dozen; for leg bones it was about twice that. With Presto’s reach and mass advantage, I had to find a weak point quickly.
“On this topic, Mr. Rogers and I talked at length. The most obvious targets are always the typical ‘magic bullet’ areas, like the genitals or liver, which, as you know, all fighters are trained to defend instinctively. After that, there aren’t a lot of choices when the bones are nearly unbreakable. Joints make good sense, but I expected that Presto would be very careful about his knees, because that’s how I won the fight against his predecessor. I was hoping for the elbow, but would have also settled for the wrist or the shoulder.”
“Amazing,” said Director Humbolt, sitting back and folding his arms. “The amount of information you were considering in real time is truly astonishing.” Pip didn’t reply, and pointedly avoided looking at the Executive Director.
When he came to his description of snapping Presto’s femur, it was Director Baker who asked, “How did you know it would break?”
“As I mentioned, Dr. Shepard gave me an idea of the durability to expect, and I had been counting the number of strikes. I had hoped that it would give way before, so the opportunity was too good to pass and I put more power into the strike than the previous ones. By coming down with my heel, I protected the bones in my foot so there won’t be a long recovery time.”
Director Humbolt followed up, “And how many strikes landed before the last one?”
Pip tilted his head to the side, the answer seeming obvious. “All of them.”
Geoff Humbolt’s eyes got wide. “All of them?” Pip nodded. “You mean that you didn’t miss with a single kick?” Pip nodded again, waiting for a follow-up question from the man.
“Excuse me, Pip,” interjected Doctor Shepard, speaking for the first time. “I think Director Humbolt means, what was the number of hits.”
“Ah,” said Pip, understanding, “my apology. Including the final one, thirty-eight, but as I said, they weren’t all as hard as the last one. I started with probing kicks to figure out which ones hurt him the most, then I started concentrating on that spot.” Seeing the question in the doctor’s eyes, Pip pointed to a location on the outer edge of his quadraceps. The doctor nodded appreciatively and sat back in his chair.
“Sorry, Pip, I’m not following,” said Director Baker. “What exactly does pain have to do with breaking bones?”
“Well,” said Pip pausing, “not much, I suppose. My idea was to make sure every kick hurt, in case I couldn’t actually break the bone. By the time the final quarter started, he could barely stand, so I don’t think it was actually crucial that the bone break.”
“Another of your conversations with Mr. Rogers?” asked Director Humbolt with a smile.
“Actually,” replied Pip, “it was Loren that suggested it.” All eyes turned to look at the undersized giant, who still remained silent. “It’s how he survived so long as a fighter in Brock-Loren. He couldn’t break bones because his own aren’t modified at all, but he is good at making fighters want to stop because he hits the same spots over and over again.”
Humbolt just shook his head disbelievingly, then pointed at John while mouthing, ‘We need to talk.’ John acquiesced with a nod.
As Pip wrapped up his recap, talk abruptly turned to strategy as Humbolt, Baker, and Richards began to debate next steps. “Gentlemen,” interceded the Executive Director, “we will not come to any agreements this evening. Please reflect on what Pip has told us, and we will meet again tomorrow morning at the ninth bell.”
The directors nodded their agreement and the meeting broke up rapidly. Pip didn’t bother to rise, and instead looked down the length of the table at the Executive Director, who was staring back. It almost seemed as if the corner of her mouth was trying to turn up. John was the last to leave, and he gave Pip a pat on the shoulder as he did.
“Here we are again, it seems,” she said. “This time, however, I would like to make a request.” Pip nodded once, making it clear that he was listening. “I want you to be honest with me this evening. Moreover, I want you to be forthright. I know there is more happening than I understand, and that must change tonight. Is this clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Pip, “although I have a request of my own.” Her eyebrows raised in momentary surprise, then she also nodded once. “I would like to bring my… I don’t have a word for them. The people I care about, the ones who already know part of what is going on. I would like for them to join us.”
The Executive Director sat back in her chair with her hands on the armrests. After a full hundred beats she asked, “And who is in this inner group of yours? John Rogers, of course. Probably your trainer. Who else?”
“The women.”
“That is surprising,” she said fully intrigued. “You’ve entrusted what may be the biggest secret in the city to women who are collectively known as the worst gossips in the Complex.” Again she paused. “It seems there may be even more going on than I suspected.
“Very well. How soon can you be back here with them?”
“I expect that they are in the hallway waiting for me, ma’am,” replied Pip nonchalantly.
Again, the Executive Director seemed surprised, then she smiled, the first that Pip had ever seen. “You really are something else, Pip.” She motioned to the door. “Please see if you are correct.”
Pip complied immediately, and as he thought, there was a crowd standing in the hallway. “Done already?” asked John, breaking off conversation with Director Humbolt.
“No,” Pip said, shaking his head, “please come inside.” He stepped back and held the door open.
“All of us?” asked John.
Pip nodded and the group slowly moved in, clearly confused.
John took Director Baker’s seat while Directors Humbolt and Collins retook their own. Lilith, having some idea what was coming, looked like she didn’t want to be there, while Geoff Humbolt appeared completely baffled at what was happening.
Loren tried to stay in the back again, but Pip pointed at Director Richards’ seat, and the smaller man reluctantly sat down, finding, like John, that the seat was too small to be comfortable. The girls once again stood near the door, but Pip quickly pulled chairs over to the table so that they could sit near him, Rosie on his left, and Maggie and Rachel on his right.
Once the group was assembled, the Executive Director looked around the table, slowly moving from one person to the next. After several hundred heartbeats of excruciating silence, she sat forward in her chair and placed her arms on the table. “I have suspicions, conjecture, hypotheses, as to what is happening in Pip’s fights. After today, I expect that this ambiguity will no longer exist. Is this absolutely clear?” Again, she looked around the table, fixing each person present with her legendary stare.
When she had received nods of agreement from everyone, she sat back and her expression softened. “Well then,” she began, “it seems that I am about to become a member of the most exclusive club in the Complex: Pip’s inner circle.” Looking directly at John, she added, “Finally.” John shrugged, but did look a little guilty.
Reaching up, the Executive Director undid the tie that maintained her bun and let the bound auburn hair fall loose. Then she removed the thick black glasses that she always wore and set them on the table. Humbolt’s jaw dropped and Lilith’s eyes got wide; John looked on curiously. “I hope that you will not see this as such a bad thing.”
Director Humbolt had finally reached his end, and spoke up, “Excuse me, Executive Director -”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Please, no more of that tonight. Just call me Cassidy. If we’re going to be open with each, the least we can do is use first names. Is that okay with you, Geoff?”
“Okay… Cassidy,” he replied cautiously. “My friends normally call me Geo.” She nodded and his confidence returned somewhat. “But that’s the thing. I’m not part of any sort of cabal, and I’m only really friends with John, although he really pushes my patience sometimes. I was just in the hallway because I was trying to get information out of him.”
“Actually,” Pip said, “I was hoping you would be able to join. Most of what needs to be discussed tonight is within your purview.
“And,” added John, “you and Lilith are the ones that made this possible.” Geo didn’t understand, but gave up arguing and sat back in his chair.
“Okay, so that’s settled,” Cassidy said. “So how do you all fit together?” John and Pip shared a look and a brief series of facial expressions, after which John sat forward.
“It started with Pip’s sparring match against one of the juveniles, the one that he killed with the blow to the ribs.” Cassidy and Geo both nodded. “I saw something on the fight replay and talked with Geo about it. Then we started experimenting.”
John went on to explain the long sequence of events that had brought them to the table, with only occasional clarifications or supplemental information from Pip. Rosie and Maggie were silent, overwhelmed at being included in such a discussion. Rachel continued to look content.
When the tale finally wound down, Geo sat back in his chair. “Holy shit.”
Cassidy nodded. “That is quite the story. Not that I don’t believe you given the Arena results, but can you give us a simple demonstration, Pip?”
Pip looked up at the vaulted ceilings above the table. “Sure. If I’m careful, I can avoid hitting my head.”
Everyone around the table looked up. “Bullshit,” said Geo without conviction. Pip smirked and asked John and Loren to clear the table and chairs off to the side, then asked Cassidy to join him in the center of the room.
“Stand still, okay?” Her eyebrows raised questioningly, but she nodded. Without any extreme effort, they watched Pip squat down then jump directly up into the air, easily clearing the woman’s head to land on the other side as softly as if he had simply bunny hopped. While Cassidy wasn’t quite as tall as John or Loren, she was still well above the mean height for men in the city and the experience shocked her to the core.
Seeing this, John walked up to her and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight to his side. When she calmed, she looked to Pip. “When you said earlier that you weren’t kicking with full force. How hard were you kicking compared to a normal Adam?” Pip smiled inwardly at the oxymoron, but let it go.
“I don’t think any of them can kick as hard as I was.”
“And that was when you were just feeling him out?”
“Yeah,” Pip allowed. “I didn’t really think about it like that, but I think that’s accurate.”
Cassidy turned to look at John. “There isn’t a man in the world that can beat him, is there?”
John shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
She walked over and sat down in her oversized chair. “Lilith — is it okay if I call you Lilith?” Director Collins nodded. “What do you think? You’ve been entirely silent tonight, so I assume something is bothering you.”
Lilith thought about how to respond, then decided that absolute honesty was the only suitable choice. “Pip is amazing. We all know he has a combination of physical skills that just don’t normally exist together. I support the path that we’ve started down, to the ultimate conclusion of the war with Northumberland.” She shook her head sadly. “I’m just worried that it will lead to more fighting and more death, when the Arena was always meant as a place to settle disputes that would otherwise escalate.”
Lilith looked directly at Cassidy. “I fully appreciate that our entire purpose here in the Complex is to win fights, and I’ve always felt good about my part in it, because I know I’m helping my city. The problem for me — for my conscience — is that I don’t want to start gobbling up other territories just because we can. I would much rather use Pip as a last resort, a deterrent against future aggression, than as some sort of autonomous killing machine. We all know what happened the last time leaders had access to the type of power that Pip represents for our city.”
The Executive Director raised her hand to say something, but Lilith barreled on, “Ask the girls about Pip and you’ll hear how caring and considerate he is with them. Ask John and he’ll talk about him like a son. Pip is a real person, just like the other Adams, even though we treat them like disposable resources.
“Ma’am, Cassidy, I really think we’re at a watershed moment, and I am terrified — truly terrified — that we will collectively take the wrong path, which will lead to a Third Fall.” The room was quiet for a hundred heartbeats, and then two, as everyone present considered what Lilith had said. John walked over to her and picked her up, giving her a warm hug. When he sat her back down again, she didn’t look quite so shaken.
“I think there is substance in your words,” said Cassidy at last, “but I don’t know if you have considered the full picture, as it currently looks. Rosaline,” she said addressing the much smaller woman, “I know you are relatively new here at the Complex. My understanding is that you came to us from one of the poorer areas of the city.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Rosie, “from the Fourth Quarter, near Apple Gate.”
Cassidy’s eyebrow arched at the response, but instead of pursuing any of several questions that had formed, she instead said, “I would appreciate it if you would tell us what it is like to live in the city, so far away from the Complex. Please give us the completely unfiltered version; I think it may be crucial to our discussion, which now seems even more important than I expected.”
Rosie nodded and took a deep breath. “I grew up in an orphanage, Sankt Pious. At any given time, there were about twenty-five of us. When I turned sixteen, they told me I had to leave. Some of the girls were able to stay until eighteen, but I wasn’t, uh, appreciative of the nuns that took care of us. After that, I spent three years on the streets — never enough food, never enough water — until I got so desperate and hungry that I showed up here.”
“Hey,” John said as he folded his arms crossly, “you told me five years when we met.”
Rosie reddened, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I really was out of options.” Then she said softly, “I can’t believe you remember what I said all that time ago.”
“He’s always been good at pulling things I said out of thin air,” interjected Pip. “Just ignore him, he’s only teasing you.”
John gave Pip a dirty look for ruining his fun, then looked at Rosie and gave her a smirk and a shrug.
Rosie went from mortified to thoughtful to indignant in the span of about a dozen beats. “That first day, you didn’t forget my name at all, did you?”
Now John seemed embarrassed, and shook his head slowly. “Yeah,” said Maggie, turning to face him. “That’s right. You told me to find Rosie, and when I did, she said her name was something else. What was it?”
“Roxy,” answered John.
The whole room was quiet again as Rosie continued to stare at him. As before, her expression changed abruptly and her eyes opened in astonishment as realization struck. “You did it for me, didn’t you?” John’s mouth turned up, just a little, as he looked at her. “You wanted to let me start over.” He didn’t say anything, but Rosie could tell she was right by the way that his eyes crinkled and his mouth turned up a bit more. Without saying another word, Rosie ran around the table and hugged him tightly. He looked to Lilith, who was smiling, and then to Cassidy, who seemed to have something in her eye.
When Rosie was done, she stepped back with moist eyes and motioned him to bend down, giving him a light kiss on the lips and a whispered “Thank you.” Then she turned to Lilith and mouthed, ‘Sorry,’ before returning to Pip’s side. Maggie and Rachel were already there to meet her with a group hug and whispered words of encouragement and acceptance.
Taking a deep breath, Cassidy said, “Thank you, Rosie. I know that wasn’t easy.” Turning to face Lilith, she began again, “I don’t know if you knew how bad it is in certain parts of the city. Roxy evolved into the beautiful butterfly we know as Rosie, but this is rare, just like she is. The typical life expectancy for an unmarried woman in the Fourth Quarter is less than thirty years.” Lilith gasped and put her hand to her mouth; Cassidy nodded. “Terrible, I know. So why is it like this? Why can’t the Meister’s office make it better?
“To put it simply: because we don’t have the resources. We have land, but most of the local aquifers — that’s the underground water — were contaminated a long time ago and haven’t recovered. We’re on a semi-arid plain, so there’s no runoff from mountains and we don’t get much rain.” Rosie nodded vehemently. “Our only real option for water is the river, but to make the water safe for drinking takes a lot of power, which comes from turbines in the dam that are also powered by the river. When the river is low, like it is now because Northumberland is diverting it upstream for their own purposes, we quickly run out of options.”
“I understand,” replied Lilith, “but with the ongoing war, we may be able to change that.”
“Yes, that is part of our strategy for how to address some of our water and power concerns, but it won’t really address food shortages.”
“So Northumberland doesn’t have the food we need?” asked Geo, glad that he understood the conversation again.
Cassidy shook her head. “Like us, they largely rely on agriculture for food, but the ground is poor because of residual amounts of the same pollutants that poisoned our aquifers. To my knowledge, the only places that have a surplus of food aren’t actually cities as we know them, but smaller settlements that are able to trade specialized goods, usually by moving from place to place.”
“Can’t we do the same thing?” Pip asked.
Again, the Executive Director shook her head. “We are very limited in what we can trade. For example, if we send fruit, they could extract seeds and reverse engineer our gene mods. Once they did that, it might allow them to copy the modifications to their own food, increasing yields. If they end up with a surplus of food, maybe they trade that away for knowledge from another city. With new information, they could find new enhancements for their fighters. With better results in the Arena, they can start to be more aggressive in who to attack and defeat, which lets them enhance their wealth further. Then the cycle continues.
“This has been the relative stalemate going back several decades, especially with ourselves, Northumberland, Gracia, and Marbelo. Now, as you noted, power is shifting. Pip beat Marbelo’s best fighter, as well as the top two from Northumberland. It won’t just be us that are looking to take advantage.”
“Yes, I understand, but…”
Whatever Lilith was going to argue was interrupted by Rachel, who said simply, “Excuse me,” as she stood up. Her voice was not particularly loud, but it carried authority, and everyone turned to look at her. “There may be a way to satisfy both of you.” Lilith looked hopeful, but Cassidy’s face said she was extremely skeptical.
Undeterred, Rachel began to speak. “Has there ever been a truce?”
“Of course,” Cassidy replied. “The smaller cities tend to ally themselves with larger cities, so as not to be seen as easy targets. The bigger cities provide protection in return for goods or services. Since the trade routes are neutral territory, it’s possible for alliances to span the entire continent.”
“Do large cities ever do the same with each other”
Cassidy shook her head. “No, for the same reasons I spoke of before.”
In response, Rachel smiled. “This seems like a chance for there to be a first time.”
Cassidy didn’t immediately respond, as she tried to work out the reasoning. It was Pip that spoke first, saying, “You mean between Rieckenburg and Northumberland.” Rachel nodded and Pip frowned, obviously troubled by the idea, but Lilith had picked up the thread.
“Surely Northumberland knows by now that they can’t stop us, right?” Cassidy looked to Geo, who nodded. “What would happen if we sued for peace instead of beating them into submission and then absorbing them, like we did with Brock-Loren?”
“Well…” started Cassidy before trailing off. “Actually, I’m not certain, but why would we let them keep their independence when we could take their resources for ourselves?”
“Would we also have to accept their problems?” asked Lilith in response.
Cassidy’s immediate reaction was to get defensive to argue the point, but she took a breath and thought on what Lilith had said. John waited until the Executive Director took a breath to reply, then started talking quickly. “You know it’s a fair point, Cass. I can see advantages to what Rachel suggested. For example, in exchange for equal access to the river, we can require that they completely dismantle their Arena program, which would tie them tightly to us for protection. In addition, we would get access to their gene tech, which we know is at least comparable to ours. We would also be able to share gene tech on the ag side, meaning we could both produce more food. And since they’re so far North of us, it means more variety, since some of the things that grow there won’t grow here. Not to mention –”
“Enough,” said Cassidy definitively with a chop of her hand.
John still had his hand raised, as if he was making a point. He lowered it slowly, drawing out the moment, then shot a wink toward Lilith.
Glaring at John, Cassidy asked, “Pip, what do you think?”
Responding immediately, he said, “The two fighters from Northumberland were both skilled. Presto was arrogant, but with good reason — I can forgive him for being an overconfident ass. I don’t think they, or the other people in their program, had anything to do with the rally. So long as we do the same to the city council members and program directors that we did with Brock-Loren, I don’t have a problem with it.”
“Actually,” said Lilith, her eyes widening as the marketing portion of her brain engaged, “I have an idea.”
Chapter 26
Arena matches are a point of pride for cities, and losing one can dampen the feeling in a city for days. Losing consecutive matches to a hated rival, as well as the top two fighters, in such a short period is dramatically more difficult to absorb. At the same time that Cassidy and Geo were being added to Pip’s list of confidants, news of Presto’s defeat was propagating across Northumberland. The following morning, it was the sole subject at most cafés and shops. On the sidewalks, residents walked a little slower, smiled a little less, and felt the weight of uncertainty begin to build.
It took two days of discussion and debate for the Complex Council to arrive at unanimity, an important point for Cassidy. It wasn’t so much that Directors Baker or Richards were against the idea of a peace pact, but rather that the concept was entirely foreign to them. Furthermore, Richards was of the old school: no quarter asked and no quarter given. After all, why should they not utterly consume a defeated foe. In the end, it was actually Baker that won him over with a combination of unbalanced arguments that were too convoluted to follow. It may just have been that Richards was tired of talking about it.
In any case, the Executive Director took the recommendation to the Meister’s Office the following day, for what she knew would be a more difficult task. A week later, having considered as many possible consequences as they could foresee — known-knowns, unknown-unknowns, and everything in between — the negotiation team, itself a branch of the city’s Public Relations department, began crafting a proposal. Just before Pip walked into the Arena a week later, the offer was sent to the Arena Council, to be delivered to Northumberland’s government in the event Pip was again victorious.
He was.
This time, instead of leaving immediately, Pip prowled back and forth in the Arena as the Northumberland support staff retrieved the several pieces of their fighter. When one of the trio would glance at Pip, he was always staring back, as if finding it difficult to restrain himself. As they finally left, Pip followed them as far as the door, shouting angrily, “This one got off easy,” before turning around and stalking back.
In the transport ride home, Pip dropped the show and laid back, entirely uninjured. “All went as planned?” asked Doctor Shepard.
“His bones were only a little harder than ours,” replied Pip without opening his eyes. “My guess is it must take years to build the kind of durability that Presto had.” The doctor nodded thoughtfully while Pip drifted off to sleep.
The message to Northumberland was brief and extremely direct, it said:
We prefer peace to war and will gladly provide terms for your capitulation. Should you refuse, Northumberland will be destroyed. Let us know if you are interested.
The negotiation team didn’t really like the term ‘destroyed’, but it was difficult to find a word that evoked an appropriate sense of dread, even if they didn’t actually mean that the city would be razed and its inhabitants slaughtered. In the end, the Meister signed off after adding the word ‘gladly,’ which seemed to appropriately soften the overall effect.
The sticking point in negotiations, once the detailed demands were supplied, was that the Northumberland council did not want to be executed, and consequently saw no reason not to fight to the bitter end. This was, of course, expected. Even before talks broke down, the Meister’s Office in Rieckenburg sent their own head of Public Relations, a man named Cates, to support Lilith as she worked to undermine the Northumberland city council’s standing with its citizenry. Along with a typical propaganda push via the airwaves orchestrated by Lilith, Cates organized clandestine meetings with leading merchants, distributed underground pamphlets, and leaked key information to the media. This kind of activity takes time, and two weeks after the previous match, Pip killed the new top Northumberland fighter, number four in the series.
Two losses in two weeks was difficult for the Northumberland populace to accept, but four defeats in six weeks was altogether overwhelming. Even without the pushes from Lilith and Cates, there would have been a public outcry. As a result of their efforts, unfocused anger became organized rallies and protest marches.
When Doctor Shepard entered the Arena after the fifth match, he didn’t bring any medical tools, but a camera. Over the protest of the other support team, he took pictures of Pip standing next to what had been the Northumberland fighter. Within four bells, the pictures had been released to the public, and violence erupted throughout the city. Northumberland, like all cities, had no standing army. Instead, they had a well equipped constabulary with authority throughout the city, led by a commissioner named Reginald Browning. When the first riot broke out, Browning sent his constables to crack down, but they quickly came back bruised and bleeding, overwhelmed by the volume and degree of violence. Additional rioting soon started as word spread, and Browning saw an opportunity. Calling together his captains, he quickly outlined a plan to redirect the fury toward the center of the city. Using bullhorns and loudspeakers, constables were soon standing on sidewalks and leading the cries: “Down with the council!” or “Violence Now, Peace Soon!” Browning wasn’t particularly proud of the slogans themselves, as they lacked subtlety, rhyme, and alliteration, but they seemed to get the job done.
By dawn, five of the council were in jail — two had died at the hands of the mob — and Reginald Browning was the first Meister of Northumberland.
With roadblocks to peace now overcome, negotiations moved along smoothly and swiftly. The full offer was complex, and designed to tie the two cities together so closely that treachery by either would be catastrophic for both. Having no real alternative anyway, Meister Browning quickly signed everything that was set in front of him.
When the day for unification came, a large contingent made their way from Northumberland to Rieckenburg, almost a seven bell drive. After they finally arrived, Browning and his advisers were led to the Mesiter’s Office, while the former city council and directors from the Arena program were herded toward the Quad.
As Browning walked through the entryway, he marveled at the construction, taking in the high ceiling and broad columns. He and his attendants quickly acquiesced to having their knives confiscated, being told they would get them back after they left the building, and continued onward. At the end of the hall they reached a grand staircase, and began their ascent, spiraling around eight full times before finally reaching the Meister’s personal office.
Browning was a large man gone rotund, no longer in the same condition as during his time as a constable, so climbing the steps left him winded almost to the point of gasping. Upon arriving at the final landing, he saw that two enormous men were positioned on either side of double doors that had been opened in preparation for him. This only added to his racing pulse, and he felt faint for a moment before recovering. Taking deep breaths to slow his heart, he moved through the doors, only to have it speed up again as he looked across the room at Rieckenburg’s Meister.
She wasn’t as tall as the bodyguards, but she was significantly taller than Browning. Trying not to be too obvious, he took in her square-ish jaw and broad shoulders, large hips and bust, along with her long auburn hair. Taking off her black glasses, she stood and smiled warmly, actually causing Browning to stumble as he took in her red lips and blue eyes from half a dozen paces away.
Once again trying to steady his breathing, he coasted to a halt near one of two chairs and leaned against it for support, trying to look casual. “Meister Browning,” she said, “thank you very much for coming. Please, have a seat.” She smiled at him for a long moment before looking up to one of the bodyguards. “Rover, please see Meister Browning’s associates to our waiting area.” Browning turned around in his seat and saw his three retainers walking back toward the double doors where several seats and couches were clustered together.
“Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” he quipped, not entirely without spite, “but it will be good to be done with this business.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” she replied. “As I’m sure you’ve realized, I am the Meister of Rieckenburg. You may call me Cassidy, if you like, or Meister if you are feeling more formal.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything so she continued. “Our business today will be short, and then we can go down to the Quad where the executions will be held.
“Meister Browning, executions performed by Rieckenburg are quite rare. It is only an odd quirk of timing that the ones scheduled for today come so closely following the ones held in Brock-Loren. One must go back decades to find a similar occurrence, and the scope of those executions was much smaller.” Browning let out a sigh and rolled his eyes impatiently. Cassidy smiled sweetly at him and continued. “I point this out specifically because we value human life, although I understand it may not appear that way from outside the city walls.
“As you know, the men and women slated for execution are given a chance to fight for their lives. If they prevail, they will walk away without further harm, although they will not be allowed to remain within the city. Given that our Adams perform the executions, it is widely believed this has only happened once in the history of the city, and that may only be a legend.”
Browning let out an even louder sigh and made a circular motion with his finger, urging his counterpart to increase the pace. Cassidy didn’t alter her smile or the speed of her words. “We do this because killing is not usually an easy thing for a man to learn, and it provides our Adams with experience so that the death of a person is not wasted. Today will be different.”
At this last statement, Browning sat up straighter and looked up at the woman in front of him. “How so?” he asked suspiciously.
“We usually use inexperience Adams for this task, ones that are not yet fully mature. Today, our Lead Adam will perform this role.”
“Good Lord, why?” asked Browning, horrified. He saw what the man had done to their best fighters, and the idea of him doing the same to soft bureaucrats seemed wholly unnecessary.
“To send a message, Meister Browning, to the other cities. There are very few men remaining in the world that could beat our Second Adam, and not a single one that can beat our Lead Adam. Unfortunately, his prowess is only just becoming known, so he is not yet acting as a deterrent. Today, we will change that.”
Cassidy rose so Browning did as well; he was astonished that she stood more than a head taller than him. “Rix,” she said to her other bodyguard, “please escort the Meister and the rest of his party down to the Quad with Rover.” She turned back to the smaller man and offered her hand, which enveloped his. “Good luck, Meister Browning. I really do appreciate all that you are doing for your city.”
Reginald Browning was suspicious by nature, and the interview with the other Meister did not go as he had expected. Furthermore, the idea that a woman was bigger, stronger, and significantly more attractive than him wounded his pride. Consequently, he was in a foul mood as they walked, shutting down attempts by his advisers to talk with him. As they neared the Quad, one of his advisers became more and more agitated, eventually screaming out, “They’re going to kill us!”
Browning tried to stop but was immediately urged forward by one of the bodyguards, causing him to stumble. He tried to turn and accost the man, but was again herded forward. Taking in his surroundings for the first time as he continued to shuffle along, he realized that two more of the giants had joined their party, such that he was boxed in. He also noticed that they were on the path leading directly to the center of the Quad, where a black rope had been pulled back from an otherwise complete ring.
To his right, the Assistant Meister had a wet stain spreading down his leg, and on his left the new commissioner of the constabulary passed out, only to be picked up by the pants and carried along by the one the other Meister had called Rix. “Do you know who –” started the Meister, only to be cut off as one of the giants again pushed him forward toward the black ring. By this time, they had reached the throng of people that surrounded the Quad, who looked to be having an amazing time. When Browning tried to shout at the bodyguards, his words were entirely lost in the noise.
All too soon, Browning and the others were given a final push into the ring — the unconscious commissioner was set down reasonably gently — and full realization dawned. Also in the ring were the five surviving council members, four of whom were arguing while the fifth sat in the sand crying. A short distance away, the Managing Director of the Gladiator program was staring silently off into the distance, while the four board members were huddled together talking quickly and gesticulating wildly.
At the far end of the Quad, the redheaded Meister climbed onto a stage and stepped up to a podium built to her extra large proportions. The crowd quieted more quickly than Browning would have thought possible.
“Rieckenburg,” she said loudly into the microphone, “as your Meister, it is my duty to preside over today’s proceedings.” The crowd cheered and smacked their hands off their thighs repeatedly, making a sound like rolling thunder. “You all know what happened the last time we came together in a forum like this. Today, our city will put that ugly chapter behind us, as we forge a new bond with Northumberland.” Again, cheering and thunder rose up from the crowd.
“Today, you will have a chance to see inside the Arena. I present to you, Adam Piper and Adam Stash.” The roar from the crowd was almost deafening, so much so that Browning actually pushed his plump fingers into his ears as far as they would go. Pip and Stash both raised their hands when mentioned, but didn’t otherwise respond.
“I also present to you, Meister Reginald Browning of Northumberland, who has courageously taken personal responsibility for the atrocities committed by his predecessors, some of whom are also here.” There was a mixed reception to these words, with some in the crowd politely smacking their thighs while others booed. Fortunately, no one was throwing rocks or rotten vegetables.
“The fighters from Northumberland were provided with a choice, to fight in our arena today or to join the Complex. Seven have chosen to face our Adams.” Browning’s eyes opened in shock. Piper was going to fight seven Gladiators in a row? Surely, that was impossible.
“If Adam Piper should fall, Adam Stash will step forward. Should Adam Stash fall, any of the condemned still alive may go free, so long as they never return to either Rieckenburg or Northumberland.” The woman paused and closed her eyes. “Lord have mercy on us all.” With her blessing complete, she stepped back from the podium.
The whole situation was surreal to Browning, whose mind was trying to come up with a way out. Across the sand, Piper was stretching while the other fighter stepped out of the circle. Behind him, a procession of enormous men made their way down the same path he had come. In front were seven of Northumberland’s Gladiators, followed by more than two dozen others dressed in black. Once the first group had entered the circle, the second split and surrounded the ring, clearly intending to keep participants in and non-participants out.
Looking back to Piper, he saw that the man had removed his shirt and pants, standing only in tight black shorts. Behind him, the Gladiators were doing the same, although their shorts were gray. Switching back and forth quickly, he realized that this Piper was significantly smaller than all of the Gladiators, as well as almost all of the Rieckenburg fighters. Furthermore, the man called Piper wasn’t nearly as broad as the others, appearing lean compared to them. Browning also remembered that Rieckenburg’s fighters didn’t have the stronger bones like the Gladiators. A smile came to his face, realizing the situation wasn’t as hopeless as it had been made out to be.
A noise to his right startled him, and when he turned to look, he saw the bodyguards from before place a table next to the rope. On top was an array of knives and clubs, including his own. Moving over quickly, he muscled his way through the group of condemned and snatched his knife back from the Assistant Meister, knocking him to the sand for his impudence.
This was absolutely insane. All of the Gladiators were still in the ring, and they were going to give them weapons, too? That’s when he realized that none of them were moving to the table. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you getting a weapon?” he shouted at the nearest one. The giant man looked down at him with disgust.
“No honor in fighting with weapons. If I beat Piper, it will be with my own flesh and bone.”
The Meister — former Meister? — scoffed in disbelief, and was about to say something rude when a hush settled over the crowd. The change in noise level was so dramatic that Browning’s eyes snapped around to their single opponent. He had raised his arms level with the sand and was motioning downward, urging the crowd to be silent.
The moment stretched and the tension rose as the man in black stared down seven fighters and fourteen others. A bell rang loudly and Pip stalked forward confidently.
Chapter 27
One of the challenges for a Public Relations professional like Lilith was that Arena matches were only seen by the two participants. There were no cameras or microphones or sensors or scanners or anything else in the Arena to record the fight. Furthermore, the only information the Arena Council published was the outcome. Consequently, it was difficult to build a proper following for fighters. Complicating things more, virtually all fighters retired or were killed in three or fewer matches.
Conversely, Pip was a marketing director’s dream. His handsome, yet somewhat intimidating looks played well to both men and women, and he was naturally charismatic, if a bit quiet. The problem was that nobody knew what he could do, which is why she had set up the ballsport match. While that didn’t go exactly as planned, it did make him immediately recognizable throughout the city. The rally footage boosted his notoriety even further, but Lilith knew that there were some that would believe the footage was faked or altered.
To deter future aggression toward Rieckenburg, Lilith needed something bigger. Her insight was to stage an arena match and broadcast it as far as they could. Their standard signals would make it to Brock-Loren and Northumberland, and to Marbelo in the evening, but with Northumberland acting as a relay, they could also reach much further, including all the way to Gracia.
An individual match for Pip wasn’t likely to be so impressive, as he couldn’t really demonstrate what he could do, but the executions provided an opportunity for something that had never been done. It took several days of working directly with Cassidy, Cates, and others from the Complex and the Meister’s Office, but they had eventually landed on an idea so ludicrous that it would fit her needs.
As Pip prepared himself the morning of the executions, Lilith had given him his final instructions. “I know it’s distasteful, but I need you to be as brutal as you can for this to work to maximum effect. The most important thing is for you to come out of this alive, but a close second is to scare the shit out of everyone; otherwise, this is all for nothing.” He nodded his understanding, and she left him and John to discuss strategy. Or women. With them, it was usually one of the two.
From her position on the raised stage, Lilith heard the start signal and watched Pip move forward. Her hand clenched tighter on John’s as her pulse ratcheted up. Around the platform, the crowd seemed to be losing its collective mind as people screamed and jumped around.
Rather than move forward together as a group, only one of the Gladiators stepped up to face Pip. For Lilith’s purposes, the result was disturbingly brief, as a punch to his windpipe and a sharp twist of the neck left the giant laying on his stomach while his eyes looked up at the sky. A second Gladiator stepped forward, clearly sticking to some sort of code. Pip took two steps back and shook his head. Looking quickly between them, he waved his arm broadly, indicating them all, and gestured: it said quite clearly, ‘Come get me’.
The Gladiators looked at each, and after a few beats, the one that had stepped forward nodded, and they moved forward as a pack. They formed a line that bent into a crescent, soon forming a circle with Pip in the center. He smiled coldly and then moved into action.
Watching Pip fight was hard to process as he rapidly switched from offense to defense and back again, always moving. On the stage, which was some twenty paces from the ring, it was difficult to actually see what Pip’s hands and legs were doing. After an initial furious flurry of activity, the fight had slowed. Two more Gladiators were clearly dead, while a third laid in the sand, unable to move as he coughed up blood. Of the remaining three, one had a broke arm and another’s knee had been blown out so that he was sitting on the ground, writhing in pain. Pip himself was largely unhurt, but Lilith could see that two or three blows had landed as his outer thigh was bright red and his nose was bleeding freely.
There was another brief, intense confrontation between Pip and the previously unhurt Gladiator, who seemed to be more-or-less holding his own. The one with the broken arm came up behind Pip and aimed a tremendous wheel kick at his midsection, only to have Pip step away so that the kick landed squarely on his fellow Gladiator’s hip. The latter collapsed immediately while the former received a second broken arm as pip spun and connected with his elbow just below the shoulder. The Gladiator collapsed on both knees, unable to fight, and Pip quickly delivered a lethal punch to the back of his head.
Pip walked from one to the next, ending their lives as mercifully as he could.
Once again, a hush fell over the crowd as they realized what had just happened. The condemned looked fully in shock, and one woman was actively vomiting into the sand — either from fear or from disgust, Lilith couldn’t tell.
Pip motioned to Stash, who stepped into the ring. There was confusion from the crowd and the condemned as the two quickly talked, then they bent together and dragged the first Gladiator to the side of the ring opposite the other occupants. When they had laid the seven gladiators in a line, Pip nodded to Stash, who stepped back out of the ring. One at a time, Pip folded their hands across their chests and made sure their eyes were closed. Then he turned back to the condemned and began striding purposefully toward them.
When he was about five paces away, he stopped. Nobody moved for some time, so Pip began to speak, although Lilith had no chance of hearing what he was saying. Of the fourteen people in the ring, only five were still holding weapons. He pointed to a side of the ring and some of the ones without weapons began to shuffle that way.
Suddenly, one of the men charged forward with a club raised above his head. He brought the club down toward Pip’s shoulder, only to have the larger man grab it on the way down and pull it from his grasp. Before the smaller man could properly react, Pip swung the club parallel to the ground, nearly separating the man’s head from his neck.
Three more ran forward simultaneously, two with knives and another one with a club. Three blows from Pip yielded three more bodies, making it clear that the weapons didn’t matter at all.
The last man with a weapon dropped it and fell to his knees, begging. Pip just pointed to where he had before. When the man didn’t move, Pip took two steps and kicked him in the chest, lifting him off the ground. The rest of the condemned quickly made their way to the indicated spot. When they had lined up, pip made a two-part motion, indicating they should turn around and kneel.
He gave them a hundred heartbeats to settle, then said something else, and gave them another hundred beats. Gliding softly through the sand toward the first in line, an elderly man, Pip pinched the base of his neck and the man slumped forward. He had done this twice more when the fourth in line, a tall, fat man, spun and stabbed at Pip with a knife he had been hiding. Pip deflected the blade with his arm, then grabbed both the man’s armed and pulled down.
The man screamed and fell backward, both shoulders dislocated. He continued to cry out, so Pip picked him up by the ankles, spun around twice, and tossed him to the other side of the arena, presumably so that he didn’t have to hear him. The man hit face first, but apparently didn’t die, as he continued to moan.
As Pip walked to where the rotund man was trying to right himself, Lilith saw a trickle of blood making its way down Pip’s left arm. Even from so far away, she could tell that Pip was not pleased. Pip proceeded to follow Lilith’s instructions to the letter, adding to the man’s agony for a couple hundred beats before finally crushing the man’s chest with his foot.
By the end, many in the crowd had turned away from the scene, finding it overwhelming, sickening, or both. Lilith would have liked to, but this is what she had asked for, and she felt it only right to watch it to the conclusion.
Rather than return to where the three remaining condemned were kneeling, Pip walked purposefully toward Stash. The two Adams had a brief conversation before Pip stepped over the rope and made his way through the crowd toward the Meister’s Office. In his place, Stash stepped in and finished the executions.
After several bells, the shock of the spectacle began to fade in Rieckenburg and was replaced by awe. Did you see what Piper did? I can’t believe he took out seven fighters at once. Wasn’t it hilarious when he threw the fat man? That was absolutely brutal; I wonder if they’ll do it every time.
Rieckenburg celebrated long into the night, enjoying the warm feeling of victory.
In Northumberland, the broadcast had been seen by most and the mood was much more melancholy, but Lilith and Cates had done their jobs well. The new council had already been chosen and moved in as soon as the convoy left, preventing a power void. Throughout the media, the executions were described as a new beginning, in which Northumberland could prosper without fear of war; after five consecutive defeats in the Arena, many latched onto this idea. What’s more, the Grim Reaper himself was now fighting for them, and what could be a better feeling than that?