Sorcerer in DC

"Do all champions get this kind of red-carpet treatment, or is it just me?" I asked Blondey, and she smiled.

"Only the special ones."

So, the tournament, the town—everything down here—was it all just some giant recruitment funnel? It hurt to think about the sheer scale.

Did Ivy build all of this at their behest?

Were they the reason for her sudden change after years of ineffectual protests and blind terrorism?

Who else was in on it, and how far did this conspiracy go?

The politicians

Gotham PD?

Major Corporations?

"Don't get too worked up," she said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. My skin puckered with goosebumps. "You don't have to make a decision this very instant. We understand that we're asking a lot. Take your time. Whatever you decide, just remember that actions have consequences."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I held her stare and tried not to let my growing unease seep into my muscles.

She rose from the edge of her table, dress flowing, and settled back into her chair. "There's a dinner in honor of our two bracket winners tonight. You should attend. You'll also be glad to know that you have a standing invitation to the Exhibitions."

"You want me going up against monsters like Phosphorus?" The offer had been expected, but I didn't think it would come this quickly.

"You certainly have the talent for it," she said, looking down at her desk. There was a stack of papers there. Her blue eyes darted back and forth, digesting multiple lines at a time.

It was as clear a sign as any that I was being dismissed. I zipped up my cash bag and made for the door. I paused just as it eased open.

"I never did get your name," I said.

"Ask me again after you've made up your mind," she replied.

Sally dragged me to the merchant sector of the city after our little meeting, with the same cherry attitude she'd had since the day started.

"What you need right now is a good distraction," she said as we walked.

"I'm not going clothes shopping again," I insisted, and she laughed, tugging at my arm as she led us down an unfamiliar path.

"Are your arms bigger?" she asked, half-serious, half-teasing, as she felt up my arms. My cheeks went red under my mask, but I didn't trust it—or her.

"I've been hitting the gym super hard lately," I said, clearing my throat.

"Huh. Well, whatever you're doing, keep at it," she said as we took a left and came to an abrupt stop at a small building. It was squat and built with Japanese-style architecture—slanted rooftops, hanging chimes, and an exposed side displaying all manner of weapons.

My eyes practically popped out, and I turned to her, the excitement bubbling out of me. "You brought me to a weapons store?"

"The best in town," she declared, tapping the katana strapped to her side. "It's where I got this bad boy. I saw how you were looking at it. Thought you might want one of your own."

"Sally?" A short Japanese man with graying hair and a bald spot poked his head out from the doorway.

"Kaisen. Long time no see," she said with a bright smile.

"Finally come for a companion for your blade?" he asked, the rest of his body following his head. He was dressed in a gi and had oil stains on his hands with a rag between them.

"I've got enough weapons to fill a small armory," Sally laughed. "No, we're here for my friend." She slapped my shoulder.

Kaisen peered at me for a few long seconds before recognition dawned. "You're him. The new Champion. Positive or something like that." He snapped his fingers, and Sally barked a laugh.

"Mister. Negative," she corrected.

I groused. "I hope your weapons are better than your memory."

Kaisen gave an apologetic smile. "They are. Apologies for the mix-up. My work tends to consume me. Keeping up with the arena has fallen to the wayside."

"I can understand that," I said, my focus shifting to his weapons. All of their handles were made from the same type of deep, grayish-black wood, with unnatural grains and a glossy finish. The metal parts sparkled under the underground's artificial light.

"Interested in anything in particular?" he asked, and I produced my brass knuckles.

"I wouldn't mind finding a companion for this bad boy," I said, handing over the weapon. There was a flicker of respect and excitement in his eyes as he assessed it.

"Well made and well used. Your preferred weapon, I take it?"

I nodded. "Either that or an aluminum bat. Since the bat doesn't exactly travel easily, the knuckles see more use."

"I think I might have just the thing," he said, darting into the back. I exchanged a look with Sally.

"Is he always like that?"

She shrugged. "You get used to Kaisen. He's the best in the city."

"If he's so good, why does he have a full store?" I asked, raising a brow. Was he also a part of his mysterious league?

She let out the sigh of someone who's had to explain the situation at least half a dozen times.

"Kaisen doesn't work well with others. Every single apprentice quits in their first month," she said. "And he can be a bit of a diva with his custom pieces."

Oh.

Speak of the devil—he popped back out with a case and revealed a pair of spiked brass knuckles. They were matte black and looked weighty.

"Titanium," he answered before I could even ask. "Light as aluminum but hits harder than steel. Perfect for a fist-fighter."

I picked up the fists and slipped them on. They fit the grooves of my hands perfectly. Seeing the smallest inkling of a smile on my face, Sally pounced.

"While I've got you smiling, why don't we complete the ensemble? Kaisen, throw in a couple of Ivywood vambraces and masks, a pair of weighted boots, and those bulletproof vests everybody is raving about."

I shot Sally an incredulous look—which I knew she caught, even through my mask—but she ignored me.

"What?" she said, batting her green eyes innocently.

"Last time I checked, I'm the one buying," I pointed out. "And I definitely didn't ask for all that."

Kaisen, mid-disappearing act, paused—his eyes flicking from Sally to me, then back again.

"But you need it," she said with a confident grin. "I know you well enough to tell. You're fifteen, just hit a personal high, and now you have the cash to wage a one-man war against him. You're not backing out—not now, not when you're so close."

I frowned and was thankful that my mask hid most of my emotion, but that didn't seem to help with her. I was beginning to wonder if the slip-up at the boss's office earlier had even been precisely that.

"Why help me, then?"

"Why not?" she replied, giving Kaisen a quick nod. He darted back into the shop.

"Kaisen is good people, and I want you to survive long enough to realize the boss was right. We're your best shot at making it through this."

The mood understandably shifted after that.

I found myself scrutinizing everything—every word, every micro-expression, every gesture.

Sally, of course, noticed, but let me stew in silence.

Meanwhile, Kaisen tended to me with an oblivious excitement, gushing about his wares as I tried them on.

The bulletproof vest Sally talked about was made from a slash-resistant material and was apparently durable enough to tank a few high-caliber rounds.

It only made Sally's earlier comment more ominous.

The weighted boots came up high on my shins and were plated with metal for extra protection. The vambraces were made from the same odd wood as most of his weapon handles.

"Ivywood," he explained. "Engineered by the queen herself. Harder than most steel, light as driftwood, but not nearly as flexible as weapon steel. Perfect for armor."

I slipped them on with some curiosity, and they were just as advertised. My new masks were made from the same stuff, with eye slits, strategic holes, and leather padding instead of the breathable mesh of my bloodied one.

I almost didn't pay when the bill came, determined not to leave with anything from the underground city--even the cash.

Bugging was a real concern.

But then it occurred to me that they would track me regardless.

They had no shortages of talent, and I ingested enough Ivy-grown food to stay on her radar, if she cared enough to look.

Besides, turning down good equipment at a solid price seemed dumb, especially given the odds I was facing and my only other alternative: Shady Slim.

The new setup ran me north of five thousand, even after the champion's discount.

After the talk with Sally, I wasn't exactly itching to spend the night rubbing elbows with the upper crust of an international shadow organization.

So, I dipped. But not before picking up a few more things that caught my eye—two standard Berettas and ten magazines of wooden bullets. A handy non-lethal option from range.

I also grabbed five more sets of slash-resistant clothes for night work and a few more for casual use.

Getting out of the underground city was just as odd as getting in. Sally handed me a duffel bag while her subordinates lugged my new gear and clothes.

"You sure I can't persuade you to attend the dinner? You could make real connections—outside of our little League," she smiled.

"Tell the boss lady I'm sorry, but I've got a deadline."

"It's been fun, J," she said with an even bigger smile. "I guess I'll see you around."

Don't hold your breath.

I slid the bag over my head, and twenty minutes later, I was standing in the park where all this started—with new gear and a strange gift.

Sally's Katana.

It had an Ivywood handle, ornate detailing, and a solid steel blade. I almost left it behind—almost.

But with a shrug, I tucked it close, eyes sweeping the park, and banished it to my Cursed Inventory.

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Don't forget the powerstone incentives.

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500 stones-- 1 extra chapter