Aramis Dagaz

A woman in need of a friend.  Genuine friendship.  Someone to hold her to this side of life.  Was that all?

A trick.  A trap.  A pathway to damnation, paved with good intentions.

But…if what he said was true–

It isn’t.  Just more lies.

–then just giving someone hope, how can that be a path to Hell?

He’s hoping you’ll end up in a sinful relationship.  You can never be with another woman like that.

But it doesn’t have to go that far.  Be present, but distant.  A helping hand, but at arm’s length.

It…will be a challenge to keep it like that.  You only need to mess up once.

And yet, if it will save a life, then the struggle might be worth it.

I wish I knew more about this woman before I committed to this.

By this point setting up the known connections was almost second nature, creating a web of string that reflected their innermost thoughts.  A murder, a ritual site, elusive perpetrators, and a wound made by a very unique knife that seemed to cut to the very soul.

Clancy cleared his throat.  “Now for the new stuff: At approximately 2:15 PM on October 1st, one Woodrow Howard disappears without a trace during a golf tournament.  He was last seen heading into a wooded spot in the rough, going after his ball.”

“Interestingly, that spot was in the northeastern corner of the golf course,” Dakota noted.

“Three people were in that part of the woods around the time Mr. Howard disappeared: Ka’shek, better known as K Lethal in the Global Wrestling Association.  An announcer for the same, a young woman who is professionally known as Mitsako.  And an associate of Mitsako’s, known only as Sumi.”

“Looks mighty familiar, don’t they?” Dakota said, putting a picture of Sumi suggestively close to one of a very similar-looking cat that was connected to the location of the ritualistic murder.

“We’ll need to find out their whereabouts over the past year,” Clancy noted.

“All three were on the same team in this golf game, but they claim they don’t know anything about Mr. Howard’s disappearance, only that they found one of his golf clubs while they were trying to find their own ball.”

“Two weeks later,” Clancy continued, putting up a photo of a strong, lean jaguar, “Ignatio Martin Carrerio-Gistain, better known as ‘Inigo’ in the ring, never shows up in a so-called ‘case match’ as K Lethal’s tag-team partner.  K Lethal goes on to win the match, he and Mitsako get in a televised spat with Mr. Nwabudike Richard “Rich” Big, owner, executive producer, and chief promoter of the GWA, no doubt part of the ongoing storyline about a rebellion of wrestlers against him.  After that, K Lethal and Mitsako are last seen ducking into Inigo’s dressing room, where they only emerge after several hours with Inigo and Sumi.”

“A member of the cleaning crew is overheard saying that there was a large, dark stain in the corner of the room, like someone spilled bucketfuls of black ink,” Dakota added.

“Said corner being in the northeastern part of the room, which itself is in the northeastern part of the building,” Clancy said.  “Just like back in Brightshore.”

They stood staring at the mess of photos and red twine in pensive silence, thoughtfully chewing on donuts and sipping their coffee.

“Maybe it’s our unconscious bias, but I think these two webs are looking rather similar,” Dakota said.

“I can’t help but feel the same,” Clancy replied.  “And we have a tentative connection between the two.”

They both looked at the two photos of a short black cat that looked more like a solid black silhouette with big, green eyes floating within the pitch darkness.  In the Brightshore photo, they wore dirty rags.  In the Lagoon Bay one, they wore a neat, gray vest.  As similar as the two photos appeared, there were enough subtle differences that they would need more information to prove that they were indeed one and the same.  The apparent complete lack of any other identifiable features visible in the dark fur made this more difficult.

“Hey Clance?”

“Yeah?”

“Not for a second.”

“Disbelieve it all you want, but it is true.  I want to see you in the ring again.  You have the potential to even surpass your—well, I’m getting ahead of myself.  Let’s just say that I do have my hobbies.  All work and no play and all that.”

“Right, and I’m the Pope.”

“Hmm, the Pope of the Ring.  That does sound rather—”

“Enough.  What do you really want?!”

“Inigo, know that I am being more honest with you now than I have ever been with anyone.”

“Now there’s a laugh.”

“BE QUIET AND LISTEN!!!  …There’s a woman who’s in dire need of a friend.  Be that friend for her.”

“A ‘friend’?”

“As much or as little as you care to take it, but be genuine.  Please.  She really needs it.”

“Uh-huh.  And what do you get out of it?”

“…The satisfaction that I did something right in this world.”

“Why do you–?”

“Inigo, she is in a dark place.  She’s already tried to take her own life several times.  Call it luck, her own stifled will to live, or the will of the Roses, she’s still among the living.  This won’t last.  She needs help, and I can’t give it to her.  Don’t ask why.

“We could just wait and find someone more trustworthy,” Kash said.

“After that run-in with the beetle swarm guy, I’d rather know what we’re dealing with sooner than later.  At least we have a big gun if things go sideways.”

Kash looked at Sumi carrying the Arc Lance.  Damn thing was nearly as big as they were, but at least they were a bit better with the recoil now.

“Okay,” he grumbled.  “But if they look at me or the dagger funny, I’m going to start punching.”

“Won’t stop you.”  Mitsako looked up at the garish neon sign displaying writing that Kash didn’t recognize.  “Well, let’s get this over with.”

The interior was only marginally more noteworthy than the inconspicuous doorway.  Objects that Kash had never seen before crowded the already tiny space, but he got the impression that everything here was of cheap and questionable quality despite their exotic appearance.  The combination of dim lighting and indescribable incense made everything even more difficult to identify.

“Welcome, welcome, honored customers!” a slightly muffled voice in the back of the shop wheezed along with the jingling of fine chains.  “Do not hesitate to let me know how I may serve you.”

“Good, we found something we’d like you to look at for us,” Mitsako said, approaching the back of the shop.  There wasn’t so much a counter as it was a table shoved against the back of the wall.  A set of large, oddly-shaped scales sat on the table, the old-fashioned kind that balanced two pans hung from chains attached to a top bar.  Kash nearly jumped when he saw eyes near the fulcrum glance at him.  The odd shape of the scales was a blob of flesh that seemed to grow out of the metal, the eyes set at an unsettling angle.  A nose emerging from the pole sniffed, creating a sound like that of air pulled through a metal tube.

[IF YOU VALUE YOUR ABILITY TO CONTINUE BREATHING, THEN RELINQUISH THE DAGGER.  THIS IS YOUR–]

A golf club flew out of the shadows beside them and impacted the weapon, causing it to fire a bolt of crackling, lightning-like energy over their heads.  Kash heard the concrete behind him explode, but he was already moving towards their assailant.  He grabbed the weapon, pulling it away from his attacker and grasping their arm with his other hand, instinctively yanking the arm towards his knee to break the elbow.

There was no snapping of bone.  Instead the arm stretched over his knee, each individual piece grasping each other with jaws and spindly legs.

They are like beetles, he thought to himself in the back of his mind.  A whole swarm of them.

A swarm that he was gripping with one of his bare hands.

Kash leapt back, crying out in surprise and pain as the beetles started biting viciously at his hand, but even in his sudden panic he kept his grip on the gun, stretching the arm to only a few strands of beetles holding desperately onto each other.  He slammed his hand against the weapon, scraping it against it to dislodge the beetles, only for some of them to fall onto the arm and start to reinforce it.

A blur of motion in the darkness forced Kash to look up, just in time for a large, black chitinous claw to appear, ready to bear down on him.  Despite already turning to meet it, Kash knew that it would plunge into him before he could properly react.

Another shadowy blur of movement below, and a length of pipe slammed into the figure’s legs.  The beetles forming the lower limbs were apparently surprised by this, their grip on each other momentarily severed before falling on top of each other.

“Duck!” Mitsako shouted from his left.  Kash immediately fell to the ground, keeping a strong grip on the swarm’s gun.  A whoosh flew over him, Mitsako’s sand wedge impacting the figure’s face, or what passed for it.  The glowing green mask went flying, taking a large chunk of beetles with it.  Kash quickly leapt up into a crouch and yanked the weapon arm back as the figure fell backwards.  The multiple strikes must have disrupted the swarm’s ability to coordinate, as the arm disintegrated, leaving Kash holding the gun.  He tossed it toward Sumi as he pushed himself forward, leaping and throwing his feet forward into a flying leg drop.  The force of his boot heels on the figure’s center of mass resulted in a satisfying crunch of chitin, and the rest of the swarm lost cohesion, momentarily scattering in multiple directions.

Kash was on his feet immediately, repeatedly and frantically stomping the swarm into paste.  He felt Mitsako hook his elbow with her golf club and let himself get pulled back.  The swarm quickly reconstituted, a large claw once again forming as it rebuilt itself into a standing position.

A bright flash of light, and a bolt of energy arced through the air to hit the swarm right in the center of mass, causing it to explode.  Kash blinked away the afterimage blinding him, catching glimpses of the surviving beetles scattering away into cracks and crevices all around them.  He looked about, but no further threat emerged.

“Let’s get out of here!” Mitsako shouted, her voice sounding like it was underwater.  “Where’s Sumi?”

He held up a shiny metal briefcase.  “Look familiar, K Lethal?  Looks just like the one you fought so hard for, shed so much sweat and blood over.  All ‘for the people’, as you are so fond of saying.”  He started laughing to himself.  “Best check the contents of your spoils, K Lethal.  Oh, how I wish I could see the look on your face when you–”

Muttering could be heard behind him, causing him to turn around.  An old man with a long, flowing beard wearing a wizard’s robe and pointy hat shuffled into view, leaning heavily on his staff.

“You!” Black Bull snarled.  “How dare you interrupt me, old man!”

“The time for black and green is not yet right,” the wizard muttered, as though speaking absentmindedly to himself.  “Teal, yes, teal shall be in the ring before the black and the green, lest it end ignobly for all.”

“You and your blasted riddles!” Black Bull growled and grabbed the front of the wizard’s robe.  “You and your prophecies won’t stand in my way!  I will carve out my own destiny!”

Without looking at Black Bull, the wizard calmly took hold of his hand and twisted.  Black Bull resisted at first, but slowly his hand was turned away, the struggle evident on his face.

The wizard turned to face Black Bull.  “There are forces at work here beyond your power or comprehension.  The teal will be in the ring ere the black and green shall meet.”

The two locked eyes, the wizard standing up straight to meet Black Bull’s glare.  Finally, Black Bull tore his hand away and snorted angrily.  “Fine then, we’ll play your little games.”  He took a step closer, their noses almost touching.  “But I will bend fate to my will.  If this ‘teal’ must be in the ring before I defeat K Lethal, then I will crush them myself.”  He grinned deviously.  “Nothing in your crystal ball says that I can’t, now is there?”

The wizard looked away, idly stroking his beard in thought.  “Hmmm, yes, yes, that will do, that will do.”  He walked away, muttering to himself, not giving Black Bull or Frank a second thought.

Frank looked back and forth between the two before taking the microphone out of Black Bull’s hand.  “Well, that was certainly…unexpected.  Black Bull, are you going to go through with this?”

He held the stare for dramatic effect as he got his breathing under control and backed away a step to the door of Inigo’s dressing room.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my partner is ready for our match.”  He opened the door, holding it so that it blocked the view of the camera in case there was a legitimate problem and not some last-minute twist in the script.  “Hey, Red!” he called out.  “What’s keeping you from the–”

Kash stopped dead in his tracks.  The room was a complete mess, chairs and clothes thrown all over the place.  A large dark stain covered the wall in the corner of the room, initially looking like dark, dried blood.  Inigo was nowhere to be found.

Ice gripped at Kash’s guts, and he knew this was not according to any script.

“--at’s going on?  K Lethal?  K Lethal, is Inigo ready or not?”

Kash’s mind quickly came up with something.  This was going to throw the original plan out of whack, but right now all he could do was keep things from getting worse until he could tell Mitsako what happened.  He quietly took a deep breath, forcing the shock off of his face.

K Lethal stepped back and closed the door.  “Looks like the Green Machismo will have to take on this match by himself tonight,” he said, making sure he spoke in a way that no one could glean resentment or worry from his voice.

Frank dithered, torn between following K Lethal and checking on Inigo, but in the end following his directive to get the promo.  “K Lethal, what’s going on?  Is there something wrong with Inigo?”

Making sure everyone had moved a few steps away from Inigo’s door, K Lethal whirled around.  “Listen here, and listen very, very good,” he said, using that tone that grabbed people’s attention.  “We are but men, and sometimes even the strongest of us falter for no fault of our own, though lesser men will try to say otherwise.  Inigo cannot fight tonight, but that’s okay, because I will now be fighting for both of us.  I am full of his fighting spirit, and if you’ve been paying attention, then you know that I can take on all of Mr. Big’s goons in that ring tonight, because both Inigo and K Lethal will be fighting for the people!”

Frank paused, swallowed, and when he spoke his voice wavered slightly.  He was used to K Lethal’s hyperbolic promos, but when the Green Machismo got serious, it was as formidable as his performance in the ring.  “N-no doubt, K Lethal, but is Inigo okay?  Should we call a doc or something?”

“Inigo will be fine, and when I win this match, I will do everything in my power to make sure his fighting spirit exceeds that which he’s given me.”  He leaned forward, fixing Frank and the crew with his stare.  “Now are you going to keep me from my victory tonight, or are you going to watch me take these goons down?”

He turned without waiting for an answer, leaving Frank to provide his closing commentary to the camera before cutting to the ring.  Kash spied Sumi’s green eyes peeking at him from around the corner, and without breaking his stride, he stooped and picked up the black cat.

“Something weird’s happened in Inigo’s room and I think it has something to do with his disappearance.  Make sure no one else goes in there until Mitsako and I return and sort this out.”

Sumi executed a salute and flopped out of Kash’s grasp, making a wobbling beeline for Inigo’s room.  The fact that they didn’t blep in response made Kash even more worried.

But there was nothing he could do about it now.  Right now he had a two-on-one match with the future of Mitsako’s Rebels at stake.

***

Kash ran towards Inigo’s room as soon as he was able to extricate himself from the ring.  Mitsako would already be there, but from what he overheard from the announcer table and the mood of the crowd, he knew it was going to be a shitshow.  He practically shoved Frank aside as he charged through the camera crew, not wanting to waste another second longer than absolutely necessary.

He heard the shouting down the hall before he turned the corner.  Well, just Mr. Big’s ranting.  How Mitsako was able to weather his rage, he likely would never know.  She had bigger balls than even the proudest of GWA’s star wrestlers, and that was on top of simply not giving a shit about what Mr. Big thought or wanted.

As soon as Kash slowed to a stop a few yards from the confrontation in front of Inigo’s door, Mr. Big turned his glare towards him.  “YOU!” he shouted.  “Give me that case NOW!”  He started to advance towards him, and Kash hated that he took a step back in response.  Mr. Big didn’t get very far, stopped short by the business end of Mitsako’s golf club pressed against his chest.  Her sand wedge, Kash recognized, perfect for digging oneself out of quagmires.

“We won that money fair and square, Richie,” she said, using the nickname she was not allowed to use.  “Don’t go backing out of our agreement.”

“The agreement,” he snarled through gritted teeth, “was for a tag team match.  The fans didn’t get that.”

“What the fans got, Richie, was witnessing K Lethal take out two of your hatchetmen, one of which was clearly pulled in at the last minute.”  She pulled the golf club away from him and struck a haughty pose with it.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were planning on Inigo betraying K Lethal and turning against him.  Well, the fans got exactly what you were planning, just not in the way you had hoped.  I’d say we more than earned our money.”

Mr. Big was practically apoplectic, his huge hands clutching at the air, though Kash noticed that he didn’t take a step towards Mitsako.  “You,” he growled, “you have no proof of that.  Mere accusations to cover for the failure of your little rebel group.”

“Failure?” Mitsako replied coolly, and Kash felt a chill in the room.  “Your little scheme failed, and we won with half the men.  This wasn’t a failure, Richie.  This was a success, both in the integrity of Inigo, and the physical strength of the Green Machismo.  If both were in the ring tonight, you would’ve been greatly embarrassed for the fraud you are.”  She idly twirled her golf club around, and both Mr. Big and Kash took an involuntary step back.  “We’ll meet your twenty grand buy-in, Richard, and you’d best use your time to prepare your cronies for the Clash of Titans.  Underhanded schemes will get you nowhere.  We are unstoppable.”

The rage storming across Mr. Big’s face was a sight that Kash would never forget anytime soon, even after all the terrors he had faced beyond the demon gates.  But the smile and laughter that followed shook him.

“Well, enjoy your little victory, Mitsy,” Mr. Big said, his voice all pleasant and smooth.  “These were mere games.  You want a fair fight?  You’ll get it, and you’ll find that your little rebellion is nothing more than a mere tantrum.”  He bowed and smiled toothily.  “See you next match.”

He strode haughtily back to the main offices, not sparing Mistako or Kash a second glance.  Frank dithered for a bit, torn between trying to interview the Rebels or Mr. Big, and eventually decided to try and extract something from the big boss himself.

“Not gonna happen,” Kash said, lowering into a defensive stance.  “You missed your one shot.”

The hooded figure lunged at Kash with blinding speed, but he was ready for them.  He slapped the dagger aside, letting his fingers slide up the hand and wrist before closing around them.  His eyes caught the glint of a second dagger in his assailant’s other hand, but Kash’s fist was already flying towards their face.  He smirked as the figure’s glowing eyes widened before impact, though it felt strangely insubstantial.

Regardless, he hit something, and his attacker would’ve went flying if Kash hadn’t kept a grip on their wrist.  He swung them around and into the ground, letting go and dropping his elbow into the figure’s back.  Before they could react, Kash’s arms were already around their neck, his bicep pressing into their throat.

“Now, you’re going to tell me what all that was about before I pop your head clean from your shoulders!” he growled.

The figure’s gasps suddenly silenced as they disappeared right from under him.  Kash blinked in surprise and looked around him.  “What the–where did you go, you little shit?”

Kash felt the icy intent pointed at his back, turning to see his assailant flying towards him with both daggers reaching before them.  He felt his heart grow cold as he realized that he couldn’t move out of the way fast enough.

A golf club swung into his vision and right into his assailant’s face, once more sending them flying away.  Mitsako was on them before they could recover, swinging the club again like their eyes were golf balls.  It impacted with a soft thud, sounding more like hitting a pillow than a skull.  Either way, their assailant lay still after two more solid whacks.

After taking a few moments to settle his nerves, Kash slowly stood up.  “Damn, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“You should’ve known that already,” Mitsako said, her voice wavering with adrenaline as she brushed her hair back.  “Didn’t realize you were that quick.  Good fighting there.”

“Like you’ve said before, this ain’t my first rodeo.”  He glanced down at the body.  It seemed far more insubstantial now, more like an empty cloak over a few sticks.  “So who’s this clown?”

“A shade, practically nothing more than a shadow,” Mitsako replied.

“Those knives beg to differ.”

“Shadows are deadly here.”

“Yeah, so I’ve noticed.”  He grunted as he rotated the kinks out of his shoulder.  “Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Motion caught Kash’s eye, and he turned to see Sumi wobble back towards them.  “Uh, sorry about that,” Kash said.  “Just reacted back there.  Good kicking.”

Sumi lowered their eyelids and blepped, looking more like a silent raspberry.

“Like I told you, this isn’t my first time here,” Mitsako replied.

“Here in general, or right specifically here?”  Kash didn’t like how tight his voice was getting, but he was close to being beyond caring.

“Both.”

“Okay then, what does it want?”

“What do you think?”

Kash tried and failed to swallow nervously.  “I’d put my money on either wanting to kill us or eat us.”

“Got it in one.”

Knowing he was right didn’t make him feel any better.  “A-all right, second question: why hasn’t it done so already?”

“Because it can’t.”

“Okay, then why?  Is it bound by some kind of twisted rule here or is there something keeping it from doing anything about us?”

Kash heard Mitsako give out a quiet, sad sigh.  “More like it’s powerless to do anything, at least directly.”

“So…more like a ghost?”

Mitsako was quiet for a moment.  “Something like that.”

“I see…”  

The giant sabertooth skeleton opened its jaws as though in a raging roar, but no sound emerged.  Kash stopped cold, feeling the sheer intent pass right through him.  The knowledge that it was unable to do anything to him helped, but its very presence was still terrifying.  

Glancing ahead, he saw that even Mitsako and Sumi stopped and shuddered before somehow managing to shake it off and continue forward.

Through a mix of will and not wanting to be left behind, Kash snapped out of his fear and followed.  “So is this like some kind of hell for it?” he said, his wavering voice steadying.  “Punishment for something it did?”

“You sure talk a lot when you’re nervous.”

“Hey, a third of what I do is talk, and I certainly can’t fight that thing, so forgive me if I’m defaulting to what I can do,” Kash shot back.

“More like half of what you do, if your recent matches are anything to go by.”

“Hey!  Like it’s my fault I have to follow the scripts they give–”  He grumbled when he saw the sly grin on Mitsako’s face.  “Ha ha, got me going there for a sec.”

“Gave you something else to think about, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah, like I can forget the giant fuck-off sabertooth skeleton looming a few miles away.”

Mitsako chuckled.  “You know, you can always just break script.”

Kash barked a short laugh.  “Like you do?”

“Hey, it makes for good television.  You know what he thinks about that.”