The Neo-Spartans: Altered World (14 page)

              “Hey Padre. Tu madre!” said Crowbar.

              “Stick and jab, Big Mike, move that frame,” shouted Scrap-Iron.

              The fighters responded with a dopey look. Quinn noticed the impatience that ran over Nico like an electric spark. He yanked off his shirt, shoved Crowbar aside and faced off against Big Mike. Big Mike came at Nico like a freight train, with an impressive arsenal of quick hits and kicks. Nico ducked and jumped and back-flipped every time his opponent tried to attack him, but was immediately back into attack mode, peppering Big Mike with agile assaults.

              Quinn was mesmerized. Nico made it look so spectacular and easy, and she was no stranger to good fighting. But what rendered her speechless was the astounding mixture of the typical paleness of the Eugenics combined with the well-defined, muscled body of a Neo-Spartan. His modification had prevailed over his natural Latino dark complexion, leaving just enough of a smoldering suggestion. The result was a face that was tempting and tortured at the same time. Quinn’s fear was gone, but a sharp pain took its place, starting in the center of her stomach and spreading throughout her entire body. Just like when you get hit in the stomach. Except nobody had punched her.

              “What are you staring at?” said Nico.

              The voice finally reached her fogged-up brain and Quinn snapped to, only to see Nico’s eyebrow raised in annoyance. Before she could say anything, Magda stepped in.

              “Hello, little brother,” Magda flashed her best disarming smile at him. “Looking at you, I can’t help but think we must be descendants of gladiators.”

              Nico’s irritation quickly switched from Quinn to Magda. “Yeah, I’m sure the government sprang an extra million to get those amber-trapped gladiator parts excavated to pull some DNA especially for me. What the hell are you doing here? I’ve told you–”

              “Easy, easy. I’m not here to ask. I’m here to offer.” She turned to Quinn, then quickly back to her brother. “Nico, this is Quinn. Quinn, meet my brother Nico.”

              Quinn just stood there, liquefied, struggling to control the mad blush that was threatening to color her pink, head to toe. Nico refocused his attention on her. Once he got past the irritating touches his sister had applied to the girl’s outfit, he actually became intrigued. There was something unusual about her. He couldn’t put a finger on it, and he wasn’t going to, because a slithering hand wrapped around his midsection, interrupting his thoughts. He looked back to find Tyra, creepy-crawling around him like poison ivy. Her green eyes were set on Quinn and the venomous gleam seeping through them made Nico feel sorry for the girl.

              “Well, well, what do we have here?” Tyra’s velveteen voice chimed in.

              Nico hated it when she tried to take the initiative. He shook her off like a thorny bramble that had stuck in his flesh and addressed his sister. “Why did you bring her?”

              “I’m looking out for your interest, little brother. This young lady is a wild, wild panther. One helluva fighter. She’ll bring in good cash, you watch. Heck, put her in a fight, I’ll put my money on her.”

              Nico’s patience began to wear thin. He looked again at Quinn; she was nervously twirling the loose end of the scarves and getting her fingers trapped in the fabric. Right now she looked more like a cat stuck in a laundry basket than a wild panther. He walked up to Quinn and toyingly gave her a full inspection—the scarves, the belts, all the trinkets Magda had put on her.

              “A fighter, huh? What she gonna do, accessorize my guys to death?”

              Scrap-Iron, his bald head tattooed with a rendering of the face of an alien, called to her, “Hey, baby, you can braid my hair all you want.”

              The guys erupted in laughter, but Tyra’s cackling was the worst. Quinn’s blood boiled and she thrust her hands away from the stupid scarves in defiance. She would’ve avalanched Nico with a piece of her mind, but his closeness completely discombobulated her. Nevertheless, Nico felt her smack of invisible resistance. Interesting. He smiled at her, meaning well.

              “Sorry,
chiquita
, don’t take it personally, but I got enough guys.”

              “Nico, you gotta at least give her a chance.” Magda stepped forward, but Tyra blocked her path.

              “He said he’s got enough.”

              “Hey, do I look like I need you to handle my business?” Nico waited for Tyra to back off and turned to his sister. “Like she says, I got enough.”

              Quinn’s mind raced feverishly. She had to do something to stay here. She needed the gang. On her own, she’d be toast. Her eyes scanned the tough guys that had gathered around the fighting perimeter. She spotted a massive guy, muscles lumped together that made him look like a giant boulder. He had sunken eyes and an inane smile on his scarred face.

              “Hey you.”

              Quinn’s commanding voice made Nico turn. She wasn’t calling him.

              “You, chock-full-of-muscle, come here!”

              Confusion rippled through the ranks of the guys. Something promising excitement was shaping up, but they didn’t know what. Quinn saw she wasn’t making herself clear, so she walked slowly to the railing and looked straight at the Boulder Banger. He grunted in an amused response.

              “I want to fight you.” Quinn waited patiently for the guys to exhaust themselves in the hilarity of the moment, then put her game face on.

              “You coming?”

              Boulder Banger’s brain was having a hard time processing.

              “I don’t fight chicks,” said Boulder Banger.

              “It took you that long to come up with this brilliant answer? Okay, let’s see, how shall I put it?” said Quinn.

              Quinn pretended to be deep in thought, but out of the blue she hammered the Boulder Banger in the groin with a nasty kick. He doubled over, allowing Quinn to reach his thick head, which she grabbed by the ears, and smash his face against the railing. Howls rose from the crowd. Boulder Banger straightened up, holding his forehead. He fixed his sunken eyes on Quinn. Her message had gotten through. He was pissed. He growled like a bear and stepped over the railing. He swung his giant arm, trying to obliterate Quinn. She ducked and punched him in the stomach. It had no effect on him and Quinn knew it. She just wanted to make him as mad as possible. She was going to give this crowd a show and earn her place in the gang. She had to plan and get him exactly in the spot she wanted him to be able to trigger his toxin points. The thought of what Kilbert had taught her made her feel proud she was a Neo-Spartan. A guy this size was impossible to beat no matter how well trained she was. But if she could nail the neuro-connections that would make his liver and kidneys dump the toxic waste into his system, the guy would be history in less than a minute.

Boulder Banger marched toward her and clamped his paws on her shoulders. She tried to break the grip but he lifted her in the air and threw her like a rag doll to the other end of the training area. Quinn felt the full impact, rolled to one side to catch her breath and set herself upright. The Banger was already on her, merciless punches landing all over. She blocked a few, but most of them found their targets.

              Off to the side, Tyra delighted in the obvious pain Quinn was suffering. Too bad her full enjoyment was marred by Nico’s concern for this pathetic girl. The unreasonable altruism he was exhibiting toward people was becoming a turn off. She ignored him and focused on the fight.

Somehow the severe beating hadn’t affected Quinn too badly. The pain had shot enough adrenalin in her system, and now she was back in the fight with regained speed and stamina. She skipped around the Boulder Banger, switching direction constantly. She had to be fast and surprise him from the back.

              Nico watched her carefully. She wasn’t wasting her hits. She was well aware she needed to be the size of a truck to inflict any pain on this mountain of muscle. So why did she pick a fight with him? Just as he was trying to figure out her tactic, Quinn found an opening. Boulder Banger had his back completely exposed for few seconds. Quinn leapt in the air and delivered a powerful and precise flying kick in his right kidney. Boulder Banger clamped a hand on his side and cringed in pain. He shook it off, swerved his bulk around just as Quinn landed, and thrust his leg in her midsection. She fell on the ground, gasping. He marched to her and leaned over, hands ready to grab her head and smash it into the ground.

              This was the moment. This was the opportunity. But she knew she had to be as surreptitious as she was fast. Quinn blinked away the pain and the daze, and as his hands came closer to her, her own hands shot out with speed she didn’t know she possessed: a backhand to his attacking arm, which bounced off harmlessly but was a big and obvious attention-getter, thus disguising her second hand whose tight fingers spear-hit him right under his armpits. The hit was nothing more than a sting, and Boulder Banger stopped for a second, amused at this futile attempt at an attack. What was she trying to do, tickle him? He emitted a nasty grunt and reached for Quinn again. His giant paws wrapped around her head and she closed her eyes, anticipating the crushing impact. Instead, his grip loosened and he released her head. Quinn opened her eyes and looked at Boulder Banger, who staggered away from her, his lumpy body convulsing in intermittent spasms. His eyes clouded over and it looked as if he was trying to retch. Quinn got back on her feet, alert and ready to deliver another blow to the trigger points in case this guy was too strong to be affected by the already-released toxins. She didn’t need to worry about it. He took a few more steps and collapsed to the ground, limbs twitching as the poisons sent shock to his nervous system, and he finally passed out.

              A thick blanket of silence fell over Nico’s gang. The guys stared in disbelief at the limp body of the Boulder Banger. No wisecracks emerged from Padre, Crowbar and Scrap-Iron. It was clear Quinn had successfully disguised her toxin-point attack technique. Quinn dusted herself off and faced Nico.

              “Now you don’t have enough,” said Quinn.

              Nico rubbed his face; he wasn’t going to show how impressed he was. He beckoned Tyra to approach.

              “Tyra, show the new one the compound. Get her up to speed.”

              “My name is Quinn.”

              “I don’t tend to be on a first name basis with fighters I’m not sure will last that long.”

              The livid hue on Tyra’s face lifted a bit. She needed to shorten this girl’s stay with the gang, and she knew just how to do it. She motioned Quinn to follow her and they left the arena. Quinn followed, unable to take her eyes off Tyra’s decorated vinyl nails.

              Magda watched the girls disappear. She had done her job well. A happy future plan unfolded in her imagination and made her smile. She met her brother’s scrutinizing stare and tucked the smile away.

              “You’re not going to say ‘Thank you’?” asked Magda.

              Nico kept studying his sister’s face, but there were no clues offered to the puzzle.

              “Nah, you’re not gonna let me get away with just a ‘thank you,’ are you?” said Nico.

              Magda gave him her best enigmatic smile, fluttered her fingers in farewell, and left him there wondering how much debt he was in.

* * *

              Quinn roamed the lower west wing of the sports arena, which was the Vaqueros’ territory, wondering what her next step would be. The urgency and danger of getting into the gang had worn off, leaving a gap that was quickly filled by self-doubt and apprehension. What if she didn’t fit in? What if they threw her out? How was she going to find and save Gabriel then? Whether the Vaqueros were the answer to finding Gabriel or not didn’t matter. What mattered was winning them to her side so she could safely stay in the Sanctuary and find her brother. It wasn’t going to be easy. That viper, Tyra, had done her best to show Quinn she was not exactly welcome here. Not that she expected fanfare and a red carpet, but still, this girl rubbed her the wrong way in every possible direction. Tyra had given her the worst imaginable sleeping spot, in a transitional area that didn’t belong to the Vaqueros. The result was a sleepless night with Quinn fending off various creeps looking for an easy score of any kind. Maybe it was a test, an initiation of some sort. Maybe they wanted her to prove herself worthy of belonging to the Vaqueros. Maybe she was just looking for excuses, because deep down Quinn knew this girl was out to get her. She simply had to be careful and make sure she impressed Nico. If she did, her position would be safe. As she weaved her way through the grimy hovels that comprised the Vaqueros’ estate she couldn’t help but cringe at the thought that there she was again, planning to impress the boss. Gabriel was right: she hungered for praise. Annoyed at the thought, she kicked a rusty can and made it sail over the railing. To hell with it, if saving Gabriel’s life meant winning Nico’s approval, that’s what she’d do. The fact she really enjoyed the prospect of doing it was an added bonus. She pushed aside a discolored burlap partition and entered the Vaqueros’ mess hall.

              The guys were hanging out. Some were playing cards, others were engaged in a strange version of darts, where the objective was to pin as many darts as possible around the head of some poor bozo without gouging his eyes out. Mindless entertainment that kept the spirits high. Quinn was wondering how to seamlessly blend in when the guys noticed her presence. All activity came to a stop. Way to blend seamlessly. The moment of mouth-drying trepidation was quickly washed away by the loud cheer that followed. Celebratory whistles and stomps mixed in a dizzying cacophony and Quinn found herself dragged to a table and plunked on a crate as the Vaqueros swarmed around her.