Gula Invidia: Black Market (XI): Cold Comforts And Furious Blows

  --- Lydia ‘Smith’ ---

  “I thought… I thought I was just serving a regular John, I didn’t expect all of… this…” The serving girl -Sar’ren- told them, V having gotten the other woman to open up about everything while assuring her that they were here to help.

  Something that was made a bit more difficult by the way Beez’el was occasionally messing with the bodies whenever someone else came near their booth. The Inferni doing a morbid Weekend at Bernie's recreation to cover things up.

  For some reason she thought Booker would find this situation hilarious, even as her own confident grin repeatedly twitched.

  “The collars are going to be a problem…” V confessed, gently running her fingers over the black choker around the girl’s neck. “I don’t suppose you know where the keys to these are?”

  “I’m not sure if there is one…” Sar’ren admitted, looking so very tired. “I mean why make a key for the thing keeping everyone in line…”

  “They’d need a key in case one of their guys got it… I doubt they’d like any of their guys losing their heads.” She pointed out, trying to be optimistic instead of focusing on the fact that (plenty of people down here would still risk it.)

  Sar’ren shook her head. “The collars only work if you’ve made a contract with their boss and… you can’t break a contract…”

  “Booker can.” She argued, just as she had when V brought the subject up.

  “No he can’t… No one can…” The serving girl gave her a bitter look, before letting out a sigh and turning back to V. “Look I appreciate what you two are trying to do, but… you can’t save us…”

  “Maybe not but… if burn this place down, then all you have to do is scatter and this fucker won’t be able to hurt any of you.” Beez’el pointed out, the Inferni playing devil’s advocate. “Your contract doesn’t say anything about coming back when you get out, just that you have to do what they say, right?”

  “And that we have to keep the collars on, which will go off if we try to leave.” Sar’ren tiredly reminded them. “I’ve seen it happen before… multiple times…”

  “Then that means there’s an anchor for the spell somewhere.” She noted, vaguely remembering some of what she’d picked up from Booker about how the Smiling Man’s whole teleportation setup had worked with the barrier around Ira Invidia. “In order for a proximity based spell to work, there needs to be an anchor point that if disrupted will mess the spell up.” (Which is probably why the entrance hall was covered in so much graffiti, anchors for the traps.)

  “If that’s the case then the anchor is probably in the pit boss’s lounge which…” Sar’ren shook her head with another sigh. “He’s in there right now, and I doubt you can mess with it while he’s watching.”

  She and Beez’el shared a glance, both of them thinking the same thing. (If things go to plan he won’t be there to watch.)

  Admittedly getting the body out to prevent his resurrection like Booker had explained to them, was probably going to be harder than they thought given this club’s layout but… (we’ll figure something out.)

  “Look, I know you don’t believe we can help.” V admitted, gently running her fingers through the other Inferni’s hair as she straightened it out. “But maybe if we can get into the back we can figure out something to do with these collars.”

  Sar’ren pulled away from V’s touch. “Or you’ll just end up collared yourself while I’m punished for helping you.”

  “Not if we cause a big enough distraction that they don’t realize you’re helping us.” Beez’el tried.

  “It’d have to be a pretty big distraction for me to be willing to do that.” The serving girl warned them with a dry laugh, she clearly wasn’t feeling.

  Lydia briefly remembered everything she’d seen from Booker over the last few days, before letting out a dry laugh, she was feeling. “With Booker doing the distracting… He’ll have all eyes on him by the time he’s done.”

  --- Booker H. Freeman ---

  His eyes drifted around the current room, roughly the same size as the main club had been, but with a notable difference in the large cage in the center of the room. One large enough to fit the two men currently beating each other senseless to the roar of the watching crowd. Each and every member of it, just as bloodthirsty as him.

  (Wrath: And yet none have the will to spill that blood themselves.)

  (Gluttony: More prey pretending to be predators…)

  (Sloth: In a way they still are preying upon the weak…)

  (Envy: Which is why we’ll square things up, right and proper.)

  (Gluttony: Eyes up.)

  He looked above him and found a large window looking down on the pit, just like Beez’el had told him. Only unlike what he’d been expecting it wasn’t so much a window as it was a glass floor. And while he couldn’t see anyone standing on the floor he could see a few tables and chairs just off of it, a handful of people clearly looking down and watching the proceedings.

  (Sloth: He really is just looking down on everyone isn’t he?)

  (Envy: We’ll be the ones looking down on him soon enough.)

  (Greed: Speaking of, I smell money to our left.)

  He looked that way and found a pair of muscular guards watching over a heavy-set man smoking while going over a handful of Collection Crystals similar to his own.

  (Greed: Not quite…)

  (Envy: Their spellsong is ever so slightly different. Same function for the most part but… something is different.)

  (Greed: Less a bank and more a wallet as far as money goes. Likely what people are paying their gambling debts with.)

  Both guards eyed him as he made his way over to the bookie, before easily dismissing him as harmless given his lack of aggression and obvious weapon.

  (Lust: An amateur mistake.)

  (Gluttony: Which is why they’re just prey.)

  (Sloth: They’ve got guns on them. Might want to watch out for that.)

  (Pride: Handguns of a fairly low caliber, at least by our standards.)

  (Wrath: We can handle the damage, and we’re close enough that we could overpower them if we need to.)

  (Greed: But business first.)

  “Hello my good sir, this is where the gambling takes place, yes?” He asked with a dapper grin, hoping to disarm the man.

  The bookie gave him a dry unimpressed look before nodding. “Yeah, this your first time here?”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “That obvious?” He chuckled, before glancing at the cage where a pair of guards were entering to pick up an Inferni whose face was a swollen, blood dripping mess. “Given how this is my first time here, is it legal for fighters to bet on themselves?”

  “If you want.” The bookie answered, his eyes briefly darting towards the guards who each gave brief nods, before holding up a low number of fingers.

  (Pride: They are severely underestimating us.)

  (Gluttony: Let them. With their guard down we’ll feast.)

  “If you want to try the pit we won’t stop you, hell you can even fight that guy if you want.” The bookie told him pointing towards the current fighter, a sinner with horns, as the crowd cheered for the man. “How much are you looking to bet?”

  (Envy: We can’t bet much. We’re going to need the Sin for our fight.)

  (Greed: Given how we’re going to win, we could bet collateral. If there’s a difference between our Collection Crystal and these, any business man should be able to see it.)

  He withdrew his crystal, while giving his opponent an appraising look and pretending not to notice how the bookie’s eyes locked onto the crystal with a fair bit of interest. “Do you mind if I ask a few questions first?”

  “Not at all.” The bookie assured, sounding notably more friendly.

  (Greed: Because he’s bitten the bait.)

  (Lust: We just need to reel him in~)

  “Are weapons allowed in the arena?” He checked, thinking of his nails and whether to save them for later or use them now.

  “Knives and bats are fine, but anything ranged is out. Can’t risk you shooting the crowd by accident.” The bookie answered easily enough, if with a faint narrowing of his eyes as he typed away at one of those glowing black boxes both Beez’el and V possessed as well.

  (Sloth: He knows we’re trying to pull something…)

  He let out a falsely put upon sigh. “I’m assuming, magic is under similar restrictions.”

  This time the bookie’s eyes did narrow as he puffed on his smoke, before fiddling with the box some more. “You can use it, but if anything touches the crowd we’re taking it out of your hide.”

  (Sloth: He’s adjusting how much of a threat we are.)

  (Pride: As he should.)

  (Gluttony: Not if it makes him run before we’re done.)

  (Greed: You need to reel him, back convince him he can make more money than he’ll lose, because he knows he’ll lose on the current bet.)

  “Fair enough.” He nodded both to the man and his thoughts. “Last question, if I were to bet, say… the entire contents of this crystal on myself winning every fight you put in front of me tonight. How much Sin would I win?”

  “That would be… some steep odds.” The bookie licked his lips looking between the black box, the crystal, and Booker’s grin. “You’ve got a reason to believe you can make them?”

  He smiled a mouth full of fangs at the man. “I’m a confident sort.”

  The bookie puffed at his cigar for another moment before the black box let out a sound, and after checking it, the other man nodded before offering his hand, a faint hum of magic within it. “It’s a bet. You stay in the pit and win every fight we send your way tonight and you’ll walk away with a lot of money. You lose, we take everything in that crystal.”

  (Greed: ‘A lot of money’ is vague. He’s trying to get one over on us. If we’re trying to make him mad we’ll need to tweak the deal.)

  “Wonderful!” He laughed, tossing the empty crystal in the air before catching it and taking the man’s hand, letting his own power flow into the deal, twisting it as he added that, “For clarification: A lot of money, means at least the amount on the crystal times every fight I win.”

  The bookie grimaced, his eyes going wide as he lost control over the magicks of the deal.

  As he let the man’s hand go, the guards on either side of them shifted, unsure of what just happened but aware something had happened. Something that the bookie was fully aware of as he lunged once more for the box with a panicked look.

  (Greed: That’ll have them gunning for us after a round or two~)

  With a skip to his step, he spun on his heels and started making his way towards the cage where another guard was waiting.

  “I do believe I’m the next contestant.” He told the man.

  The guard gave him a curious once over before shrugging and opening the cage. “Your funeral.”

  “More like my massacre.” He corrected with a chipper grin as he stepped into the cage.

  Across from him stood a large muscular shirtless man with what looked to be bull horns on his head and a vague brown fur growing across his upper body.

  (Pride: He looks like a proper minotaur.)

  “Huh, been a minute since I fought something other than an Inferni.” Said minotaur confessed. “Though you don’t look like you’ve much more going for you. You sure you want to be here string bean?”

  (Pride: Why I never!)

  “I assure you I am more than enough to handle this challenge.” He disagreed as he straightened his tailcoat.

  All around them the cage began to let out a faint buzzing hum of some sorts that had him looking around curiously. (What is that?)

  (Gluttony: Smells like a thunderstorm without the rain.)

  (Pride: Have they electrified the cage?)

  This question distracted him just long enough for the minotaur to punch him in the face. Now from a normal person this would do nothing to him, but from the massive Sinner in front of him it was enough to launch him off of his feet and into the cage behind him. The electrified cage behind him.

  While he didn’t scream a painful burning numbness tore across his back for the brief moment it took for him to push off of the fence. (Right, let’s… not do that again…)

  He stood there in a faint daze, his head spinning from the punch, hard enough that he was fairly certain it had at least partially cracked his skull. A ringing in his ears that he couldn’t tell if it was from within or the roaring of the crowd on the out.

  (Sloth: Great, think this guy might be a bit tougher than the usual thugs we deal with.)

  (Gluttony: Still prey, just prey with horns… Give into the Beast and wE’Ll eAt hIM aLIvE.)

  (Envy: There’s enough suffering here that I can make him hurt like all the people he’s hurt. Make him feel the weight of his sins crawling on his back.)

  (Lust: There’s no need to get so serious about this. We’re on a stage, we’ve got a crowd, let’s have fun with this~)

  (Wrath: No. We need to be in control of ourselves. Lydia and the others need us to focus. Not lose ourselves to our emotions.)

  He felt that that last one had a point. (I can’t lose sight of the goal just because of one bad blow. I need to stay focused, in control.)

  (Wrath: Take everything you’re feeling, all of your emotions and compress them. Push them to the side until we’ve time to deal with them.)

  He took a deep breath as he ignored the pain, aware that he’d felt worse and what damage he’d taken would heal soon enough. Instead he focused on the minotaur before him, a faint chilling numbness flowing through his veins and pushing his heat down deep inside.

  (Wrath: Pain, rage, hunger, misery, joy, and guilt all serve a purpose, but they’re a temptation. A lack of control can harm you and those you protect.)

  He stepped forward, his back straightening, as his smile dimmed a touch even if it didn’t leave his face. Until he stopped just in front of his opponent and once more straightened out his tailcoat, the jacket doing nothing to warm the chill creeping across his flesh.

  (Wrath: Don’t let yourself become frustrated, angry, or hurt. Compartmentalize it until you need it. Don’t let it get in the way.)

  He took another calming breath before looking his foe in the eye. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

  (Wrath: Endure all the world throws at you.)

  “Sure thing.” The minotaur chuckled, before once more punching him in the face to crowd’s roar of approval.

  Only this time, he stood firm.

  “What?” The sinner asked with wide eyes.

  He gave the man a cold, bored look. “Is that all?”

  (Wrath: Endure.)

  The minotaur’s face twisted before he pulled back his fist and drove it forward once more into Booker’s face. An act he repeated again and again, not waiting for Booker’s reaction as the sinner continued to pummel away at him with a level of force that faintly shook the room with every punch. Ever driving the crowd to an ever higher fervor as they felt it in their very bones.

  (Wrath: Endure it all.)

  Still… he stood firm.

  After a few more moments, the minotaur pulled back faintly gasping for air. The crowd silent as one and all stared at Booker in shock.

  “Done already?” He cooly asked.

  (Wrath: And then…)

  “The fuck?” The other sinner blinked at him.

  “I suppose that means it’s my turn now.” He nodded, adjusting his coat once more.

  (Wrath: When you can endure no more…)

  After setting his folded tailcoat on the floor Booker gave the minotaur a kind smile, before grabbing the wretch by his horns and throwing him face first into the ground. At which point he placed a boot on the minotaur’s back and grabbed the sinner by his horns, before slowly pulling back as he pressed down.

  He took no satisfaction in the ripping of flesh, the tearing of meat, simply doing what needed doing.

  With a calming breath he stood, holding his victim up by one of their horns as he looked them in the eye, their lifeless corpse at his feet, before finally letting his cold gaze sweep across the silent crowd.

  (Wrath: You do what you must…)

  Patreon Thanks

  A/N: Tell me, is it a surprise that someone as lively as Booker has such a cold Wrath?

  You’ve a limited time, what do the others focus on as Booker fights through the pit?