Who's Next

“Hold on a second, I have a girlfriend!” John said, breaking out of the kiss as the stone platform rose back up to become a dance floor again. The walls slid out again, forming the amphitheater design again.

“I have no desire to be your friend,” she responded, crass. “You have bested me in battle. Through skill, luck, or both, I do not know. Not only that, but you’ve shown hesitation. You could have done better, and I know it. Not only that, but you could become such a better fighter.”

The crowd reformed around them as everyone began dancing again. “You even showed mercy. I knew during the race it was you who healed me. Many of my people would call you weak for that quality. It’s something I’ve thought a lot about.” Somebody spilled a martini, and a drop of it splashed onto the boots she wore. In a flash her small smile disappeared and the anger she had displayed until this point resurfaced. She turned around, and the look in her eyes alone petrified the offender, who made a beeline for the exit instead of attempting to clean his mess. John decided to hear her out.

“Kindness is a rare thing in Jarako and rarer still among my people. I decided it was one of my favorite things about most humans. Depending on the situation of course.” She danced just at the edge of arm’s reach before he pulled her back in.

How did I do that? I don’t know how to dance.

“Giving me that potion on the race track was a fringe case. If I were any of my sisters, I would have immediately leapt up and knocked you out. You got lucky.” Her arms went behind his neck as she pulled him into another kiss, and he pushed her back. Then he saw a third emotion: hurt. “Am I not good enough for you? I guessed that you and the female human had something going on between you two, but I didn’t think it would be exclusive. Humans in Jarako rarely if ever are. Am I not attractive to you?”

The music stopped, though neither John nor Houndiira noticed. “No, that’s definitely not it. I promise. I’m in love with-” John was about to explain but was interrupted by a redheaded blur rushing past him and tackling the drow.

“You want to kiss my boyfriend? MY. BOYFRIEND. You bitch!” Jenny went to punch her, but Houndiira caught her fist easily and flipped her onto the ground.

“If this is how you fight, then maybe I’d be better with him,” Houndiira hissed her reply, her face inches from Jenny’s. “I challenge you for his heart.”

“Unblooded Houndiira Myduis of the Nightsisters has challenged Jenny Hudson to a duel regarding the affection of John Newman! We’ll have three rounds, with no damaging spells. Win by knockout or technical knockout! Supervisors will interfere if there would be a ****, in which case the prospective survivor automatically wins. Do you accept her challenge?”
Despite the Announcer clearly commentating on the current fight playing on the screens, he apparently could appear at two places at once, as he shouted Houndiira’s challenge to the spectators.

“Jenny don’t! You won’t be able to attack her with your bass! If you could, you’d totally kick her ass, but-” John began, helping Jenny up. “Even if she wins it’s not like I’m magically going to start liking her instead of you. This duel changes nothing.”

“I accept,” Jenny said simply, stepping onto the dance floor. It began to sink again, and John sighed in exasperation.

Houndiira took the rapier from the weapons rack, whereas Jenny simply stood. There was no bass on the rack, and yet she didn’t look nervous in the slightest. The fellow clubgoers looked less excited about this fight, half watching the screens instead of the pit. Most looked more disturbed by the lack of music than the second fight.

“Another brawler? Good luck with that.” Houndiira spat, holding the rapier out in front of her. John could hardly stand to look. The radiant light that set John to full health and mana filled the arena to prepare them both.

“Fight!”

She advanced toward Jenny, sword first. Jenny stood still, and John could feel his heartbeat speed up. What’s she doing? Why is she just standing there? The sword tip stopped just short of her forehead.

“Stop.” John noticed her eyes glowing a brighter gold than they ever had before. She stared deep into the eyes of her drow opponent, unflinching, unblinking. “Put down your sword. Kneel.” He had never seen this side of her before. Her voice left no room for argument, and apparently Houndiira agreed as she knelt in front of Jenny. “First you hurt him.” Jenny said, slapping Houndiira across the face as hard as she could. “Then you almost kill him.” Jenny reared back and slapped Houndiira again. Blood dripped down the corner of the drow’s mouth. Despite the pain, Houndiira still knelt. “And to top it all off, you try to steal him from me? Are you fucking serious?” Jenny reared back to slap her again but decided against it. “Clean yourself up, you tramp. You look terrible.” Her eyes lost their magic, but the message was clear.

“I surrender,” Houndiira said weakly, not bothering to pick up her weapon. She slowly stood up, wiping the blue blood from her lip. “I cannot best her.”

“Backstage. Thirty minutes,” Jenny ordered the drow, who issued a meek nod in response.

“Well, it looks like we have a winner! That was much more anticlimactic than I thought it was going to be! Jenny Hudson wins!” the Announcer, or what John realized to be an amazing hologram of him, declared. The healing light filled the area again as the duel came to a close.

“As for you,” Jenny said once the platform had risen, “don’t think I didn’t see you dancing with her. Still, you did reject her. You’re lucky I trust you.” She kissed him then nipped his neck before breaking away to get back on stage.

“I had no idea your lady friend could be quite so intimidating,” Robert commented after Jenny had left. “I think most people watching that duel - if it can be called that - felt just as intimidated as the Nightsister down there. I know I did.” Robert took another cigar out of a case in his inside jacket pocket before handing it to John. “To victory?”

“To victory!” John agreed, letting Robert light the cigar. He had never smoked one before, hell, he had only ever tried cigarettes once, and those did not taste good. He puffed it, as he had seen in movies.

“Careful not to inhale,” Robert advised as John held the cigar in the corner of his mouth as his robotic companion was doing. Robert looked more badass, but John could actually enjoy the oaken, earthy taste of the cigar.

“I thought that was for show,” John commented, nodding at the cigar in the robot’s mouth. “Do you have lungs?”

“Oh, it is. The ones in the case are real,” Robert replied, patting his jacket, “but this one isn’t a cigar per se - though it gives me a facsimile of the sensation of taste. I shouldn’t have given our adoring fans my other one - I only have the two. Though with the money from selling even the third place trophy…”” The end glowed orange, but the cigar did not shrink. “Effectively, the only difference between mine and yours is that while yours stops working when it runs out of matter, mine stops working when it runs out of energy.

“That’s… a way to look at it,” John replied, turning to the bartender. “Whiskey, neat.” John didn’t remember many of the drinks he had with Jenny that fateful night in the Inferno, but he did remember that she had ordered him a shot of whiskey and that it didn’t cause him to immediately black out (as some other drinks did). A mundane drink seemed like a safe bet.

“I’ll have motor oil, both top shelf,” Robert winked at the pale human bartender. She bit her lip, and John noticed that her canines were a little too long and sharp to be human. She brushed back her red hair and poured John his drink. As he took the glass from her chilly hand, he saw that her reflection did not appear in the glass.

“You’re lucky this is beside a race track,” she replied to Robert’s drink order. She took a plastic green bottle from under the counter and poured some of the dark liquid in a glass for the robot. She made sure to “accidentally” smudge some on the back of her hand before handing him his drink, and Robert made a show of kissing her hand as he took the glass from her.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” John said, trying not to think about how a female vampire and a male android would get it on. He slipped away, looking for a bathroom.

I am a proud Nightsister. How did I let a human woman hardly older than my infant niece humiliate me like that? That was unacceptable, Houndiira berated herself in the bathroom mirror. Another, darker part of her chimed in, even though it felt undeniably good… No! She punched the mirror, taking satisfaction in the way it shattered. In a moment it melted back to its regular state, and Houndiira was left looking at her bloodstained chin. Usually that wouldn’t be my own.

She jumped as the door suddenly opened, drawing her knife from her thigh. It was only another clubgoer - one native from Jarako if the gaudy blue dress was anything to go by. She slowly sheathed her knife, turning back to the mirror and the sink under it.