Victor of Tucson

Ponda ended up having to jump down into the pit and help Victor out. He lifted him by his good arm, and swung him over his shoulder, then clambered up the side, with Yund giving him a hand. “Take him to the infirmary; we’ll pick you guys up after Zan’s fight.” Yund reached out to clap Victor on the shoulder but thought better of it, pulling his hand back. “We’ll get you to a bath tonight, kid. You did good.” Victor just closed his eyes, hanging over Ponda’s shoulder; he didn’t feel like he’d be able to look around and still keep his stomach contents to himself. He tried to lose himself in the bumps and sways of the big Vodken’s stride. After a while, he heard a door swing open, slam against a wall, and then swing closed behind him.

“Put him on that cot,” A smooth, all-business voice said, and Victor opened his eyes to see an Ardeni woman pulling a needle and thread through the forehead skin of a short, stocky man. He watched her for a moment, admiring how she quickly jabbed the needle in and out without eliciting any curses from the patient. Then, Ponda swung him around and helped him scoot onto a low wooden cot with no mattress or blanket. It was stiff, but at least it looked clean, so Victor laid back and tried to zone out, closing his eyes and trying to remember the words to the songs that had been popular back in another world, in a different lifetime.

“....wouldn’t you say?” Victor’s eyes opened, and he looked around, feeling panicked, but then he saw the infirmary and the Ardeni woman, and he remembered where he was.

“Uh, what?” he mumbled through dry lips.

“You’ve made a mess of your shoulder.”

“Yeah, I can’t move it.”

“It’s dislocated, and there are ligament remnants in the joint. Did you level after you got this injury?”

“Uh, yeah. How can you tell?”

"Because your ligament was shredded, but the Energy that leveled you healed it up. The old bits are still in there, though. Don’t worry; I have a spell for it.” Something was off about this woman, and Victor was trying to figure it out when he realized what it was - she had kind, undamaged, unhaunted eyes.

“I think you’re the first person in this world I’ve met that wasn’t mentally fucked up or just plain mean.”

“Hmm? You have some interesting slang. I’m sorry you’ve seen a lot of trauma; let’s see if I can make you more comfortable at least, okay?” Victor closed his mouth and nodded. “My name’s Lita, and I’m going to heal you, don’t resist my Energy, okay?” Again, Victor nodded, and Lita reached one hand into the filthy collar of his t-shirt and rested it, tenderly, above the swollen upper portion of his shoulder. Then, she took the other and grabbed ahold of Victor’s tricep. When she closed her eyes, he felt some warmth under her hands, then some tingling spread into his shoulder. It didn’t hurt at all, but he knew what she meant - he could feel her invading Energy, and he had a subconscious urge to push it out with his own Energy. He held himself back, clamping his will down on his Core. Soon, his shoulder was vibrating, and warm, buzzing waves pulsed through it. Then with a “pop,” his shoulder reset, and a wave of relief ran through his body as muscles he didn’t know he’d been tensing up relaxed. “There we go! Anything else really bothering you?” Her eyes were the craziest shade of bluish pink that Victor had ever seen, and she had matching hair cut short and pulled back out of her eyes with silvery clips.

“Uh, do all Ardeni have matching hair and eyes?” She smiled and leaned back, caught by surprise by the question.

“Oh, not all. Most of us, though. Our original world was very vibrant. Some of our plants died off with the merge, and the other worlds weren’t so bright and colorful. Oh, I’m babbling.”

“No! I don’t know anything about this place! Thank you for talking to me.” Victor reached out and almost took her hand, but he pulled back, not wanting to alarm her.

“Just where are you from, pit fighter?” She said “pit fighter” teasingly, not judging, and Victor found a smile creeping onto his lips.

“Uh, another world; I got summoned by some assholes.”

“I figured you were from another world, but I thought perhaps you came through a City Stone.”

“Nah, summoned. I don’t know where this world is, even. I’m from a place called Earth, and I bet your eyes are prettier than any girl’s in my whole world.” Victor didn’t know why he was flirting with this woman, but something felt good in his head like he’d lost a heavy weight. He hoped it was him really feeling good and not some temporary side effect of her healing. He grinned when she smiled and looked down, embarrassed. “Hey, don’t hide ‘em from me.”

“Well,” she looked at him again, “Your eyes are nice, too. They’re like warm honey and seem deeper than the bright eyes of my kin.”

“Maybe we’re both enjoying seeing something different,” he said, widening his smile. She opened her mouth to reply, but then the door slammed open again, and Ponda strode in.

“Got him patched up?” Lita scooted back from Victor, clearing her throat.

“Ahem, yes. Just finished.”

“Good! Put it on Yund’s tab. C’mon kid. Time to hit the baths.” Ponda gestured for Victor to get up, then turned to open the door. Victor sat up from the cot, then swung his arms around from back to front.

“Nice job, Doc. Thanks for fixing me up,” he held out a hand, saw it was caked with dried blood, pulled it back, and just sheepishly waved.

“You’re welcome. What’s your name?” Ponda looked back sharply, an eyebrow raised, but Victor didn’t care.

“Victor. Hope I see you again, Lita.” Then Ponda’s meaty hand was on his shoulder, and they were walking briskly out through a wooden hallway, past some concession carts, and then through the vast, open doors of the Rusty Nail. They found Yund and the other fourteen surviving fighters waiting near a beer cart where Yund was, unbelievably, buying every fighter a mug. He saw Ponda and Victor striding up and ordered two more.

“What a night, boys! What a night!” The four surviving female fighters exchanged glances but didn’t correct Yund. “You all deserve this! We came with the fewest fighters but won the most fights. Now four of those wins were on young Victor’s back, but that doesn’t discount the wins the rest of you racked up. Good work! Drink that ale, and we’ll head back at a leisurely pace.” Victor savored the Ale, marveling at the icy temperature. Apparently, this world had refrigeration tech or at least magic, but Yund didn’t often spring for it.

Victor was eager to get back to the peace and quiet of his cage to look over his menu for selecting a class. He hadn’t told anyone about leveling to ten, though he figured Yund would figure it out sooner rather than later. He seemed to have a way of gauging a person’s strength. Maybe it was a skill or spell or some kind of magical item. While they walked, drank their big mugs of cool ale, and joked about fighting to the death, Victor almost felt normal. What did it say about him that this sort of thing seemed normal to him now?

“Take him in there, Ponda. Treat yourself too. See you in the morning,” Yund said, waving at a white stone building with several chimneys pumping out steam in the bright moonlight. Ponda grabbed Victor’s shoulder and steered him toward the building, and as they got close, Victor saw the unmistakable image of a bathtub silver-embossed on a big copper door.

“Bath time,” Ponda announced superfluously. Victor followed him through the door, noting how it swung noiselessly open and closed behind them. They walked into a clean, tiled foyer, and an Ardeni woman with orange hair, wearing a white robe, handed them both towels and bars of soap. Ponda slapped some little colored beads on the counter and said, “Two private baths.” The woman nodded and moved to the side of the room, pulling aside a curtain, revealing a hallway.

“Rooms one and two. Shall I arrange for some attendants?” She looked from Ponda to Victor and raised an eyebrow.

“Nah, just the baths. Just a minute, kid.” Ponda reached a hand to his belt and produced a metal collar. “Sorry, but you’re gonna have to clean around this thing. I don’t wanna be worried about you bolting while I’m relaxing in the bath.” He opened the collar and snapped it shut around Victor’s neck.

“Don’t trust me, huh?”

“Of course not. You don’t get to where I am by trusting people, kid.” Victor was going to crack a joke, but he could see that Ponda was taking himself seriously, so he decided to keep his mouth shut. He was still in a good mood from the ale and his time with the pretty healer, so it wasn’t hard to fake a smile. He followed Ponda into the short hallway, and the doors to “Bath 1” and “Bath 2” were immediately to their left. Ponda gestured to the second door, and Victor nodded, opening it and stepping in.

The room wasn’t large, maybe ten feet by ten, and the back five square feet were all taken up by a sunken bath. Victor stepped up to the edge of the first step leading down to the water and marveled to see it flowing like a river. The water came in through a grate on one side of the tub, falling down the wall like a little waterfall, then pooling in the tub to flow out through a grate on the other side. He touched the water and found it hot, but not unpleasantly so. Green plants with long flat-leafed vines lined the far wall, and steam hung cloyingly in the air.

Victor took a look at himself and his blood-soaked clothes and shuddered to imagine putting them back on after he bathed. He stepped into the hot water, fully clothed, and then started to strip his articles of clothing off, one by one. As he took off his shirt, he held it under the hot steamy water for a moment, softening up the crusted blood, then he used the bar of soap to wash it, squeezed it as dry as possible, and laid it out on the tile to dry. Then he repeated the process with his jeans, underwear, socks, and even his shoes. Sure his clothes were soaked and still stained, but they were “clean.” Then Victor spent a few minutes washing himself, scrubbing till his skin was more pink than tan.

The soap smelled like some kind of flower and maybe vanilla or something. Whatever it was, it was better than old blood. After he’d worn the bar of soap down to just a fraction of its former glory, he set it on the edge of the bath and fell back into the warm, gently flowing water, letting it caress and murmur to him as it passed along his ears. Victor had no idea how long Ponda would let him relax like this, so he intended to make the most of it.

It turned out that Ponda really enjoyed bathtime. Victor drifted into sleep floating in that tub, and when Ponda finally came for him, he felt like he’d had almost a whole night’s sleep. He couldn’t be sure, but some time had definitely passed because his clothes were nearly dry. Ponda barked at him to get out, so he did, drying himself with the towel, then pulling on his slightly damp clothes. He followed Ponda out of the bathhouse, his tennies squeaking and squelching on the tile floors.

“Feeling better, kid? You smell better.”

“Yeah, Ponda. I needed that, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Yund told me to take you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think we had to spend that much time in there. So, thanks.” Ponda looked at him but didn’t argue; he just nodded and kept walking. They got back to the Wagon Wheel before the sun started to rise, and Ponda locked Victor into his cage with a finger over his fur-lined lips.

“Boss is gonna be busy today. Sleep in if you can.”

“Alright,” Victor replied, moving to his usual corner of the cage and laying down on his back, arms behind his head. It was time for him to take a look at his class selection.

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