Excerpt: Fort ChopShop

KID DIAMOND [A Girl’s Best Friend]

“Why are we going to this place?” The wagon jolted on some bump in the road, tossing me to the side roughly. The irritation in my voice showed more than I had hoped.
Jessup looked back, frowning, “Simple. It’s a fight. You go in, beat up some critters, we come out with the prize money.”
I rolled my eyes at that, “You mean I get hurt and you get rich.”
“No whining about the contract. We made a deal and you are going to honor it. Besides, ten percent of the prize is yours to spend on how you please. Could even apply it to your buy-out fee if you want.”
“Not a fool here. My parents sold me into slavery to you. More than likely you’ll murder me in my sleep than let me go.” I wiggled my left foot to rattle the chain and cuff that surrounded it.
My owner shrugged, “If you hadn’t tried to escape, I wouldn’t need it. Beside, two more years and you’ll be free anyways. Maybe stay with me and capitalize on your talents. Make a better deal.” He grinned, “Besides, you are mutant, better to do this than live in some half-ass run-down swamp hole.”
That one struck home and for the hundredth time I thought about killing him then mounting his head and stupid grin on a pike. But he was right, for better or worse, there was a contract and the Brotherhood was strict on its word. I would be free in two years, dumped on the side of the road with a few coins and cut loose. Mutants were not well liked, even semi-normal looking ones. If I was lucky, Jessup would drop me off back north. More than likely it would be in the middle of the wilderness and he would return to find another fool to dupe.
It was still dark outside, Jessup had been traveling through the night, heedless of bandits, raiders, or foul weather. Nothing deterred him from a chance to make money and if it meant risking injury to get there, then injury be damned. Sleep had been fleeting, between the cold, cramped quarters, and tossing of the wagon, I wasn’t sure what was worse. Nothing seemed to bother Jessup. I stared at the back of his head, and imagined the rough hewn black haired trader laying working for me. Bound to do my bidding. I sighed. Not likely for that to happen. He was a typical Brotherhood merchant; smart, canny, and ruthless. His deals would always leave you poorer and wondering why you gave away everything for such a meager prize. Oh, he wouldn’t take everything and leave you starving, that was bad for business. But anything else was fair game. It was one of the reasons that the pair kept moving from place to place. Some marks had long memories and more than a few of his Brotherhood fellows took exception to his skirting the line of trade.
Jessup spoke up, “Look at it this way boy, you’ve only been part of the family for five years. Luck favors you and that talent. Most people would be envious to be in your place.” His voice held a bit of mirth, “Besides, if you make it through this fight, your share of the prize would knock off another two months at least.” I hated that tone, talking down to me. But unlike most assholes, he had a good point. Being a fighter let you negotiate with the handler and make a little better deal. I merely grunted.
“What sort of creatures are they putting up this time?” I said with a resigned tone. Fights were either too easy or flattened me. And hospital time added to my contract.
“Mucats from what the flyer said, perhaps a Rad Scorp. Nothing you and that diamond skin can’t handle.”
“Rad Scorps? Great, now I have worry about being poisoned and my limbs cutoff. Most of me is still flesh you know.”
Jessup barked with laughter, “Don’t go whining to me boy. You have enough tricks to pull this off with ease. Only thing I’m worried about is the odds.”
“Fucker,” I muttered under my breath.
If he heard me, Jessup ignored it. “Word is beginning to spread on you boy and the last few times the odds haven’t been quite as good.” He snorted a laugh, “But good enough to earn you some extra coin and me a nice tidy profit.”
I snorted with a bit of distaste.
“Ha! You might not like it, but I’m right. And Fort ChopShop hasn’t seen the likes of you yet. Should be able to make some good coin off the bets. Nothing says stupid like people who bet with their prejudices and not taking a good look at the fighters. The Owner is taking a special interest is you, since they are only hosting the fight. Some big game hunter up from Port City is bringing all the creatures. They are all challenge fights; he’ll be looking for volunteers.”
“And I volunteer and you bet? Is that the arrangement?”
“No boy, I’m not taking that chance. Already sent a notice to the Owner and the big game hunter, they have accepted my challenge. No specifics, other than pitting my fighter against his animals.” Jessup turned half around and looked at me, “Going to put down a wager on yourself?”
“Always do,” I muttered. “Need to make something to survive.”
Jessup at least had the decency to look hurt, “Aw boy, I take good care of you. And if you win this bout, I’ll even take off the chain.”
“Nothing like small favors. Am I to be shackled like a beast while in town as well?”
“No boy, but you’ll not be leaving my side. You are too valuable to roam free. More for your protection, lots of the gang members have no love for mutants, much less someone that might be able to fight.”
“I can take care of myself,” my voice growing sharp. I balled up my fist and concentrated, feeling the small crystal spots growing together until they covered all the skin, leaving a glittering diamond skin. Focusing a bit more, half inch long serrated spikes form off the knuckles.
“Knew you’ve been practicing. Figured out a way to launch them yet?” Jessup watched keenly taking note of my actions.
I looked at him and held my fist out at his face, “Not yet. You’ll be the first to know.”
He chuckled, “That's why I like you boy. Spirit. Maybe a bit of anger and rage. A bit more common sense in that head and you'll go even further. You might even thank me,” giving me a wink. “But I'll not hold my breath for that.”
The mirror caught my eye and I looked into for a moment, studying the face that was both human and inhuman. One of the loremasters had commented that I looked like one of the elves from the ancient times, come to kidnap travelers and perform experiments on them. After seeing the picture, it was hard not to agree with him. Slim build, tall, long face, fair features, slightly pointed ears, my eyes were larger than normal, with my mouth and nose being smaller. My long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, sparkling like flakes of glitter had been sprinkled on the strands. I felt the various patches of crystals that grew irregularly on my body. None had yet to appear on my face, but occasionally one would slowly fade away and another would appear to take its place. Both a blessing and a curse.
With a sigh, I curled back up on the mattress and pulled over a blanket, drifting off into a fitful slumber, plagued by dreams of slavers, gang members, and giant scorpions. A stinger was poking me repeatedly when I woke up with a start. Jessup was poking me with his riding crop.
“Get up boy, almost there.”
The sound of a motor caught my interest and I peaked out the side window. A sandrail rolled by, the driver looking up and catching my eye for a moment as he went past. Freedom to do as I please. Something that I never really experienced. I reached to my chest and held the small bag of tokens and gems. The whole sum of my wealth, enough to buy a couple of months off my contract. ‘Betting on myself had become second nature by now, and each bout brought me closer and closer to my goal of freedom.
The sun was just clearing the horizon to the east, casting long shadows around the wagon. Fort ChopShop and it large gates were swung wide to allow traffic in and out. I felt the wagon slow and then stop as someone unseen hailed Jessup. Some muffled words later and the wagon lurched as Jessup jumped off. Footsteps sounded outside the walls and the lock rattled a moment before the door swung open.
“Like I said gentlemen, only my fighter and myself. Just like the invitation requested,” Jessup chattered at the guard.
“He’s a mutie.” the guard looked at me with caution, then at the leg chain, “Dangerous one then?”
“The chain? Oh that’s just a bit of punishment for acting out. He’s quite well behaved and civilized. Nothing to worry about really. Just my fighter.” Jessup's face was quite the jolly mask, talking as if I were a dog wagging my tail and looking to patted on the head.
I merely sat on the bed and stared back at the guard, trying to keep a neutral tone on my face. This one looked like another little big man, given a job and now he thinks it’s the most important thing in the world. Bullies one and all.
“Good thing to keep him chained up. Can’t trust a mutie, not really for any time.” The guard stepped back, looked at the paper, and reluctantly muttering, “Guess everything is in order. Need to find one of the Sponsors to finalize the papers. Should be over in the shack.” The guard jerked a thumb towards some building out of my sight. “Just might keep him hidden, not many muties around here.”
“No worries, I shall keep him out of sight,” Jessup winked at me before closing the door to the wagon. I sighed and settled back on the bed again. He was upto something and all it promised was more trouble for me. Always did. Beyond keeping me healthy, he did little more than what was necessary. Clothing was an afterthought, companions were missing, and only rarely was there a chance to just unwind. Surprised that the bastard didn't keep me caged all the time. Rattling the chain again, I tested it for strength. Good and solid make, I decided, might be able to destroy the lock, but the shackle and chain were nigh unbreakable without the proper tools. And Jessup was the only one with the key.
My current prison was barely tall enough to stand up in, slightly longer and maybe four feet wide. Two bunks, a single large trunk, and shelves crowded together in a claustrophobic squeeze. Pots and pans rattled off hooks on the ceiling, along with various tools and training gear. Under each bunk was a single drawer containing what little clothing Jessup provided, plus a memento or two. “My life of luxury,” I intoned to no one in particular. And boredom. Loads of boredom.
The wagon rocked and then lurched forward, Jessup yelling something at the draft animals. It was a short move, as the wagon lurched to a halt. I could hear Jessup talking to someone, but the words were too muffled to be understand. Another jolt cuased the wagon bounced a couple of times and then settle down. The lock turned again and Jessup climbed into the wagon, brandishing a large iron key. Without a word, he reached down and unlocked the shackle, tossing the cuff into a corner.
“Now boy, here's the deal,” Jessup had his serious tone on. “You are a mutant and these folks really aren't keen on your type. Rumors have been flying all day long and there's way too many yokels that wouldn't mind taking a poke at ya.” He paused to let that sink in. “Now, I've got an invite from the Owner herself to bring you here and to fight. This is a big deal, biggest we've ever done. So, you are going to be on your best manners and avoid notice.” Jessup pointed to the drawer, “Get changed into your display suit and nab a cloak from the trunk. Going to eat well, then you are going get some sleep. The fight isn't until nightfall and you will need to be at your peak performance.”
“I'm free just for this?”
“Actually, you are free until you do something stupid again. Going to trust you on this boy. Could be the last fight for you and no sense have you going in impaired.”
I frowned, “So, you think I'm going to die or be incapacitated?”
“Anything is possible, but you've the best I've ever had and if anyone can survive this, it is you. Also, I took your earnings and bet them all on yourself. Win and you'll be able to buy out your contract.”
I just stared.
Jessup laughed, “Oh yes boy, I'm betting on you winning and going free. Sufficient motivation to keep you free and wanting to win the fight?”
“Why? I have two more years, I could make you wealthy.”
“Wealthy? Boy, you have made me rich beyond what I could have imagined. I'm getting old. Getting off the road and retiring is more appealing by the day. One final win and then I'm out. You win all the matches and you'll have enough to buy out your contract plus enough to set you up in style back home. Real style, not just out of the mud.”
My mind whorled at the thought of being free. No longer bound to someone. Able to make my own decisions. All the thoughts curled together and I looked up, “How many matches?”
“Four matches. Two tonight, one on each of the following days. Something of a festival it seems, not sure the specifics, but there's ganger, travelers, and sorts converging on the Fort. All types are coming to watch and they are expecting a good time.” Jessup grinned as he stood up, “And we are going to give them a good time. Now get dressed, need to get your fed and rested.”
As he turned to leave, I had to say, “Thank you.”
Jessup turned and a strange look crossed his face, “Knew you had sense.” And closed the door after him.
Mechanically, I got up, opened the drawer, and rummaged around in the heap of clothing, pulling out a set of loose fitting pants and shirt. Dyed in a dark red and made of cotton, they were comfortable and well fitting. The shirt was sleeveless and showed off the crystal grows on my arm. They also disguised my build and emphasized my lanky appearance. Jessup used this to good effect in betting and sliding the odds to his favor. A set of soft-soled slippers slipped on easily enough. From the trunk, I selected one of the longer hooded clocks; a heavy black wool affair, good to keep off the rain.
Dressing was second nature while my mind focused on possible chance at freedom. It could be a trick, but Jessup had never directly lied to me, not about fights. His insight was keen to almost flawless and able to spot a stylistic flaw by merely watching an opponent warm up. Always one for showmanship, he pointed these out and than admonished to give the people a show. Too fast and people might think it rigged. To long and the audience got bored. Five or six rounds was always a good spread, especially if the fight docket was full. Multiple opponents always meant going for immediate takedowns. More than once I had was the focus of all the other fighters and learned quickly to take the fight to an opponent rather than waiting to be overrun.
Stripping off the daily wear, I pulled on the other clothing, zipping and tucking in as needed. Into a heap on my bunk went the old clothing, in dire need of a washing. The cloak settled on my shoulders comfortably, much like a second skin. I flipped up the hood to conceal my features, stepped over to the door, and let myself out. Overcast skies and intermittent sunbreaks greeted me as I opened the door. Smells of burning assaulted my nose, along with a mixture of fuel and other unidentifiable odors. Stepping down the small ladder, my shoes squished into the muddy ground.
“Good thing you aren’t wearing your find boots,” Jessup quipped, “They would be ruined here in short order.”
“Lovely place,” I scanned the surrounding area. Groups of gang members, traders, travelers, farmers, and drifters wandered about the various stalls setup in the central area. To the north was a large wooden grandstand, which partially obscured the track. The wooden fence was broken by three entrances with ticket booths. A large pristine building was opposite the grandstand, well kept and intact compared to the rest of the buildings. Large ramshackle buildings occupied the west side of the courtyard. I could see a lot of activity, but nothing to tell me their purpose. On the east were a number of similar structures. One was an inn or tavern, a large sign proclaiming it the Brickyard hung over the door.
“For an outpost in the middle of a wilderness, ChopShop does very well indeed. There’s nothing dull about living or visiting here.” Jessup gestured towards one of the group of gang members, “Those are the Cylinder Heads, one of the local raider gangs.” A longer look showed them to be tattooed thugs wearing an assortment of heavy riding leathers. Chains and spikes adorned their clothing, most sporting shaved heads or close cropped hair. A couple had oddly shaped maces hung off their belts, piston heads secured to wood or metal handles.
“They look unfriendly.”
“Quite so, if we were to meet them in the wilderness. But since we are here, they are under a sanction of truce. No violence outside of the ring, otherwise the gang is punished for any transgression. Last time someone crossed the line, the gang was set upon by the others as an example. Even you are pretty much safe from harm here.”
“Good to know that my hide will be preserved until I get to the arena,” I muttered, pointing off to the grandstand. “It's over there? Can we take a look at it before the fight?”
Jessup followed gesture and nodded, “Aye boy, that's the fighting area. When they aren't racing, the Owners turn it into an arena. Time enough to look at the place later. Right now, you need food and sleep.” He tugged my sleeve, pulling me towards the Brickyard. “Since we are fighting, our room and board are provided, at least until we are defeated. Food's good here from what the locals say, though given the surroundings, it doesn't say much.”
“It looks no different than the industrial areas up in Seatac, a bit rougher, but not really different. The people are the ones that seem out of place.”
“Oh they fit right in, was here long before your time boy, not much has changed in ten years other than the gangs are a bit politer when they rob you blind,” he wheezed out a chuckle. “Oh yes, unless they approach you, no talking to the women. Most are taken, and the ones that aren't will take off your head at the slight. The Seven Mary Sisters especially. Some of the locals call them ball-breakers for a reason and I've seen them reduce local tough guys to whining and muling little boys.”
“I just have to beat off the women with a stick. You know that they can't resist the sight of my mutant body.”
Jessup again gave that wheezing laugh, “Don't give me that daft line boy. The last time you fought you had to fend off all sorts of groupies. Not that a couple of them didn't make past the screen.”
“No idea what you are talking about.” The memories of that night came flooding back and I could feel my face grow warm.
“The promoter sent them himself for a job well done. Even had them checked to make sure they were clean. Not everyone gets a chance to tumble twins. Besides, not like I haven't provided you with the occasional girl from time to time.”
I remained silent as we walked across the courtyard. Jessup grinned at me like a fool as we reached to inn. Opening the door, he went in first, gesturing to the girl behind the bar.