Page 2 of Gladiator's Bite
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An hour later, my overnight bag and I are on the shuttle to Starscale 2. Every compartment of the spaceship is more crowded than I expected it to be. Most passengers are men, sitting in groups, laughing and talking boastfully. Muscles are flexed and shown off and moves talked about. I sit in the back of the last compartment and consider how many of these guys’ asses I could kick in a controlled environment.
The Gladiator matches on Starscale 2 were a sport and from what I read online about them; they were pretty regulated. Dragons got hurt, nearly maimed at times, but you didn’t off flight members – even for entertainment. They may have borrowed the human word from Earthside, but they didn’t put up with bullshit and no one fought lions. They might’ve if lion shifters lived here but they didn’t. Animals weren’t considered someone with the ability to consent to fighting. Just like anyone under the age of twenty-five.
“Moony!” Someone shouted and I fought off the urge to flip them the bird.
Moony wasn’t the insult it sounded like. Starscales were proud of their birth flight and didn’t understand why shouting ‘Moony’ at us might make us cringe. Why wouldn’t we be proud of where we came from? I was the biggest Moony on world after all since my parents led the flight.
I nodded up at him. He was a tall blonde with the sort of lips that would’ve gotten comments back home. He was clean shaven – face and chest - and clad in some sort of long loin cloth looking getup.
“You gonna fight?” he asked, moving from his friend group to an empty seat near me.
“Thinking about it,” I shrugged.
Teddy was the talkative one. If he were here, he’d have the guy’s whole life story out of him by now.
“None of you Moonys have played yet,” he said, leaning his arm on the back of his seat. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”
“And?” I arched a brow.
“Nothing really. Figured you guys were more into fucking than fighting. You guys stay on 1 so much.”
“That’s where the diplomacy work is,” I lied.
“Hush doesn’t do diplomats from 2 or 3. He’s not entertaining you. My dad went to school with that scaly fuck. He’s not a bad dragon but he’s certainly not that hands on. Don’t worry. No one will question why you’re there. You’re there to fight like the rest of us. Just don’t tell that lie. Come up with a believable one, if you’re gonna lie.”
“Oh, yeah. The freaky-deaky flight thing.”
The blonde laughed and shook his head as if I were a kid. He was definitely older than me by the smell of him. Maybe as old as Fred. Maybe older. I wasn’t sure. All dragons over a certain age looked the same unless they were sick or nearing the time for their door of life and death to show up.
“That’s one way of putting it. I’m Selt,” he reached out his hand and I shook it.
“Sunny,” I said.
“I know who you are. You’re the kid of the leaders of the Moonys. Don’t have to be in the ruling family to know that one. It’s how you carry yourself.” He paused, waiting for me to say something, but I let him keep talking. “So, you Moonys any closer to hooking us up to the network?”
That was it.
That’s what Selt wanted.
“Not really my area of expertise. They’re working on it over at the Star Room, though. They welcome anyone to stop in andask about it. You have information on this lady everyone and their carrier is looking for?” I asked.
“No, but remind me after the fights tonight. There’s a guy whose grandcarrier was a seer. We don’t get as many as you all do. He’s an omega but he’s a mean bastard on the field. Usually, it’s an omega who wins these days. We don’t go easy on them, but they get more vicious every year. Anyway. I suspect he’ll be around tonight to test the new meat.”
“Is he a seer?” I asked, ignoring his comment about omegas winning. It was flavored with a little too much biological essentialism for me. The only fate I believed in was decided by souls in the Other World not by some biological markers or some other bullshit like that.
“Dunno but I’ve heard rumors. I figured since you’re the Moony diplomat and all, you could ask him,” he shrugged.
“Maybe after he’s done cleaning up the arena with you,” I shrugged back at him.
“Be so lucky to get put into Laken’s fight class. Aim isn’t straight enough. It’s like the wind’s always against me,” he laughed.
“Maybe it doesn’t like you.”
“Starting to think you don’t like me.”
“At least you’re thinking.”