After the Second Fall

"But how did she, uh, reciprocate?"

"She didn't," Rosie said. "That was all about her. This, now, is all about us," she finished, crawling up Pip's chest to kiss him thoroughly. When Rosie finally backed off, Rachel was there for her turn, and Pip moaned into her mouth, relishing the renewed intimacy.

As Rachel ended the kiss, Pip could see that her cheeks and chest were flushed and she was breathing deeply. Turning to look at Rosie, he saw she looked much the same, the blush even more pronounced on her paler skin. The two had another of their brief, wordless conversations, then moved quickly. Rosie took Pip's hand and made it clear he should get out of bed while Rachel arranged pillows and blankets, with the two women soon lying back together, fingers intertwined and heads next to one another.

The image of them next to one another, waiting for him, was overwhelming given his emotionally fragile state. Until the recent past, Pip had been more-or-less alone excepting only John, and the depth and breadth of feelings running through him was too much to properly process. Anger and desperation, hate and acceptance, loneliness and desire -- they all fought with one another to rise to the surface and be seen, heard, felt.

Pip sat down heavily on the floor next to the bed, closing his eyes and hanging his head. It was some time before he realized one of the girls was talking to him. As the fog cleared, he heard Rosie's voice coming through clearly. "Pip," she was saying softly, repeating his name every so often.

When he finally raised his head, both women were looking at him with smiles. "Welcome back, Pip," Rosie said. "Believe it or not, we both have a good idea of what you are going through, and that's the reason we came by." Pip gave her a disbelieving look and she giggled. "Okay, one of the reasons."

"She's serious, Pip," added Rachel, elbowing her friend. "Life outside the Complex is difficult, and we've seen our share of pain. We can help."

"Pip, what happened was terrible," said Rosie, taking over again. "You know this, but you need to accept that it wasn't your fault. Then you need to do something constructive with the residual emotions." She turned her body toward Rachel and ran her finger from the other woman's navel to a spot between her breasts, all without taking her eyes from Pip. "Now that your pre-fight training is done, I might have an idea or two that could work." Figuring that a picture was worth more than words, Rosie nuzzled into her accomplice's neck, eventually nibbling on her earlobe, which caused Rachel to arch her back and let out a low, extended moan.

Pip hadn't actually dealt with any of his internal conflicts, but could see the wisdom in channeling negative energy into positive action. Stripping off his shirt, he leaned over the bed and added his attention to Rosie's, starting with Rachel's feet and slowly working his way upward.

Chapter 21

With the better part of a day to himself, Pip had plenty of time to reflect on the conversation he shared with Rachel and Rosie after they had expended some of their collective energy. The two women had opened up to him, sharing deeply personal stories and feelings, none of which he had previously known. Following their discussion, he went to visit Maggie again, but this time they talked into the night. It was the first truly meaningful conversation they shared without the other girls present.

After talking around the topic for a significant part of the evening, Maggie eventually admitted to Pip that she had missed the comradery of the other PET girls while she was acting as Rosie's Second. Saying it aloud seemed to unburden the young woman, and she was soon recounting the myriad adventures she and her friends had shared, both within and outside of the Complex. Even with his limited interpersonal experience, Pip could see where Maggie was heading, and cut her off mid-sentence with a kiss.

"Maggie, I understand."

"You do?" she had said, clearly surprised.

"Of course I do. You're young and want to live your life. With what I do -- what I am -- you would always be carried along, without much say.

"Maggie, I don't think I could deal with knowing that you're not as happy as you could be."

She had smiled through tears, gladly accepting his gracious explanation as it kept her from having to admit she wasn't the person she had previously believed herself to be: that she hadn't been ready. "I'm so sorry, Pip. What a terrible thing for me to do to you on the night before a fight."

Pip wiped her tears away with his giant thumb and smiled. "Don't worry. The girls showed me earlier how to channel my emotions."

"Did they?" laughed Maggie, still crying. "They're so good for you, Pip, better than I could ever be."

"Don't sell yourself short, Maggie. I know you're spectacular, inside and out." Maggie barked out a laugh and Pip turned red. "Hey, that's not what I meant, and you know it."

When Maggie had eventually calmed, their conversation turned to him. After all, even if they didn't have a future together, Maggie still knew him better than almost anyone else. He admitted the deep guilt he felt over her injuries and Max's death, and like Rosie and Rachel, she did her best to let him see the situation from a different perspective.

It had helped.

So as Pip finished his stretching routine, he felt fully centered, and when the door opened and he stepped into the Arena, it was with focus and purpose; he did not expect what he found.

Across the large white room, through the other door, his opponent lay slumped against a wall. Sensing something amiss, Pip clamped down on time, but nothing happened. After checking the room from his position and finding nothing out of the ordinary, Pip let time speed up and started to slowly walk forward. He had only moved two steps when movement caused him to clamp down a second time.

His control of the Effect had become so strong that the door's downward movement could barely be seen, even though it was in reality moving quite rapidly. Realizing what had happened, Pip again relaxed and the door closed, shutting him in the Arena by himself.

"Whoa," said Pip to himself as he sat down, "a forfeit." Although uncommon, forfeits were not exactly rare, and happened a handful of times each year. The most typical cause was for some kind of prohibited substance, which resulted in forfeiture of the fight, death for the participant, and penalties for the city. At the very least, the aggrieved opponent could immediately offer a challenge, skipping the typical dead period. In extreme cases, forfeiture was grounds for war.

At present, it meant that Pip had another bell to wait, naked and alone, until the doors opened again. With nothing better to do, he settled into a meditation pose and visualized the fight with Northumberland that could now be scheduled.

When the door behind Pip slid up, the doctor and Stitches rushed in, only to find him resting and unhurt. Pip flicked his eyes toward the other door and understanding reached their faces. "Well, congratulations are in order, Pip," said the doctor. "Two victories in the Arena is cause for celebration, regardless of how they occur."

"Thanks, Doc," said Pip, rising to his feet, "but this is only the beginning." Pip didn't spare a backward glance as the three made their way to the transport that would take them home.

It took two days, but the Arena Council made available the details of the forfeiture. The fighter from Brock-Loren was disqualified because his urine sample was tainted. The masking agent had apparently failed to do its job -- or perhaps the Arena Council scientists simply knew to look for it -- regardless, Rieckenburg now had control over Brock-Loren itself, this having been the final fight in a long campaign of conquest.

More interesting than the official report was the outcome of the annexation itself. Rather than allowing the city administration to continue to govern, as would be typical given the significant distance from Brock-Loren to Rieckenburg, the entire city council was executed in the central Rieckenburg Quad, along with the director and assistant director of their Arena program. The reason given was their poor judgment and cowardice in the recently forfeited fight.

The brutality of the changeover was atypical, but seen as necessary by the Meister's office in Rieckenburg. To try to win favor from the fifteen thousand city residents, the entire replacement council was appointed from within the city, relying heavily on detailed interviews with more than a hundred leading citizens. There were still cries of "Puppet" and "Sham", but most residents seemed to appreciate the gesture. Furthermore, instead of being executed, the remaining fighters from the Brock-Loren stable were relocated to the Complex. Realistically, these men would hardly be a match for the pool Adams, but they could be good sparring partners for the almost-mature next wave.

In total, only six actual fighters made the journey, along with several of the top trainers; the rest of the staff within the Brock-Loren program were told to find new professions. The top remaining fighter was called Brock, an honorific that he had just inherited when his predecessor forfeited. New Brock lasted less than a week, killed by a juvenile Adam in a sparring match. New-New Brock died the same day. After that, the title was dropped.

Of the four remaining after the first week, one was slightly taller than Pip, with huge arms and enormously broad shoulders: Pip doubted if he could reach his back to scratch an itch. The others were all at least a full hand shorter than the first, with one actually about the same height as John. It was this last one that intrigued Pip from the outset, largely because he could identify with being the smallest. There was also something strange, however, because an Arena fighter that size had not been seen in more than a decade, even from the least populated cities. Wanting to meet the man, Pip asked Rachel to arrange a discussion, which was quickly done.

In addition to setting the meeting, Rachel also provided Pip with the man's personal information, direct from his program file. His name was, somewhat ironically, Adam, but everyone in his former program referred to him as Loren, a mean spirited joke meaning the opposite of 'the Brock'. Otherwise, the file contained little more than his tangibles, such as height, weight, and so forth.

As Pip walked toward Loren across the courtyard, he took in the man's frame for the first time. In addition to being short of stature, he was also lean, clearly mesomorphous. Even more so than height, this was completely unheard of in the common Arena era, where bone density and muscle mass were crucial to success.

As Pip approached, the smaller man glared at him, clearly unimpressed.

Pip stopped in front of the man and offered his hand. "Hi, I'm Pip."

Loren said only, "What do you want?"

Pip folded his arms, not having expected such a rude reception. Around the courtyard, people were starting to look toward the pair, sensing that something interesting was happening. "Do you know who I am?"

The man sneered at him, but didn't say anything.

"It looks like we're not going to be friends," said Pip. "So be it, but if you don't show some respect, you're going to end up in the morgue, sooner than later."

"Oh, yeah? And who's going to do that, you?"

Pip shrugged. "If I need to, but I hope it doesn't come to that."

"You couldn't even touch me, you pompous ass."

Surprised at the arrogance, Pip smiled. "And if I can?"

"You won't."

"I will," said Pip, still smiling, "and when I do, you're going to stop being a little shit to me. Agreed?"

When the man narrowed his eyes and assumed a fighting stance there were audible gasps from the people in the courtyard, who had suddenly become spectators. Pip mirrored the stance and shut out distractions, refusing to underestimate any opponent.

Without any real force behind the punch, Pip jabbed with his left hand, and it was knocked away. Again he jabbed, and again missed. He feigned a right cross and the man didn't even move, and Pip knew. The smaller man was still sneering up at him, but when Pip gave him a predatory grin of his own, the man's smugness faltered.

Clamping down on time, Pip jab stepped forward with his lead leg and threw another jab with his left hand. Seeing that his impromptu opponent's hand was coming up to swat it away, he adjusted his aim lower, only to have the man adjust with him. When Pip stopped the jab mid-punch and threw his right hand again, the man started to shift, but Pip could see that he would be too slow. Just before his right hand connected with the guy's head, Pip pulled off and stepped sideways.

The smaller man's mouth was open and he was breathing quickly, even though the entire exchange lasted less than half a hundred heartbeats. "Holy shit, I thought I was dead."

Pip shrugged, still grinning. "Satisfied that I can touch you?" The man nodded. "Good, then let's start again. I'm Pip. I'm the Lead Adam here."

"Loren, and I know. I saw the footage from a couple weeks ago, but I thought it was a fluke thing. I guess I understand now."

"Listen, Loren -- actually, do you like Loren?" The smaller man shrugged indifference, so Pip continued. "I knew there had to be something different about you, and now I know what it is. Would you like to have lunch with me and my handler?" Another shrug sealed the deal, and the two parted after fixing the details.

When Pip told John what he had found, John vacillated between excitement and concern. Eventually, he settled on both, and agreed that having lunch in private was a good first step.

When the time came, Loren arrived early and apprehensive. It was only when Rachel arrived with the food -- burritos, at John's request -- that he began to relax some. "Who was that?" he asked as she departed with a wave.

"That's Rachel," replied Pip. "She takes care of me. And John, really." John agreed silently, as he had already begun eating.

"Perk of being the Lead?"

"No," Pip said smiling, "she arrived before my first Arena fight and asked if she could be my personal assistant." He shrugged. "It's turned out to be a really good choice."

John laughed, pausing the burrito's return trip to his mouth. "That's one of the bigger understatements I've heard in a while. Rachel is amazing. Did you know Rover has an assistant now?"

"No, but I guess it makes sense," responded Pip. "Rachel sets a pretty intimidating example, but there are lots of capable folks around, and it is much easier to focus on training when day-to-day activities aren't a concern. I wonder how long until all of the pool Adams have assistants."

"Dunno, but it's already started with the directors. Richards was first, naturally. Seems he sees having an assistant as some sort of status symbol. I would guess the others will follow, rather than get left behind."

"Even Director Collins?" asked Pip.

"Maybe. She did threaten to find a good looking male assistant of her own, but I think she was teasing me." John was contemplative for a few moments. "The problem is, I'm never really sure with her."

Pip smiled, but across the table Loren was looking quite confused. "Is this what you wanted to talk about?" he asked Pip. "To gossip about the peons?"

Pip's face turned serious and he set down his food, as did John, who looked angry. "Alright, Loren, a few things that we need to get straight," started Pip. "First, I get that things were different in Brock-Loren, and it seems like you were dumped on constantly. I would tend to excuse the attitude, but not if you talk badly about my friends and coworkers. While you and I are fighters, we have no shot at winning without the support of a whole load of other folks. And I would also remind you, Loren, that you're not an Adam -- that's a title you need to earn."

Emotions warred on the newcomer's face, and though it took a hundred beats, his posture eventually relaxed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful to you or your colleagues."

John picked up his food and casually flicked away the offense with his hand. "Forgotten." He took a bite, swallowed, and started again. "Loren -- actually, why do you still let people call you that? I read that it's a pejorative where you come from."

Loren tilted his head back and forth, weighing options, then replied, "Not really. The other fighters started calling me that, trying to get under my skin, since they couldn't actually beat me when we sparred. After all this time, it feels natural."

"Wait, you were never beaten? Why weren't you their number one fighter then?"

"Well," said Loren evasively, "I never actually won either."

"Ahhh," said John understanding, looking to Pip, who nodded in answer to John's unvoiced question. "So you're that fast." Loren shrugged, but sat up a little straighter. "Listen, eat your food -- it's amazing -- and while you do, I'm going to start talking. Just nod or shake your head to let me know how I'm doing, okay?" Loren picked up his food and nodded, making John smile. "Perfect.

"So you're too small to be an Arena fighter, which means you're either a runt like Pip, or mixed like me." Loren nodded at the second option. "Okay, now in a larger city like Rieckenburg where Adams are segregated from day one, nothing would have come of it, but maybe in a smaller city all of the kids are lumped together." Loren made a 'kinda-sorta' motion with his hand since his mouth was full. "Okay, we'll call that 'close enough'. So at some point, rather than getting beat down by the gene-mod kids, you hold your ground and they see some promise. You probably won't end up being big enough, and your bones are definitely too brittle to fight Arena matches, but maybe they can at least use you as a punching dummy for the next decade."

Loren's face fell and he looked down at his plate. Seeing his distress, Pip interjected, "Seems an awful lot like my story, wouldn't you say, John?"

"I would, Pip. For what it's worth, Loren, those same fighters that beat up on you for so long are in the same position here, and I really don't think any of them will last more than a couple months. They're too small to square off against our Adams, and too convinced of their superiority and skill to adapt to something else." He shook his head sadly. "I hope the same isn't true for you."

Realizing that they had come to the point, Loren set down his food, looking between the two other men. "So what is it you want me to do?"

"I don't honestly know," replied John while holding out his arms. "Pip tells me that you have the same... talent that he does, or at least something similar. I think we could put you to excellent use, helping Pip and the other Adams train, without actually having you fight. Lord, you could even do what I do and become a handler. With your inside knowledge of fighter development, maybe it would be an easy transition. Regardless, you're apparently the second quickest man in the world, and it would be a shame to throw that away."

Loren picked up his burrito again and finished it in silence. When done, he took a deep breath and started talking. "So, I guess I have two main thoughts," he began. "First, whatever I just ate was really good." John gave him an 'I told you so' smile, but was obviously more interested in the next point. "Second, I never really wanted to be a fighter, so I'm not opposed to giving it up. The problem is that I don't know how to do anything else, so what I think you're saying sounds like an awfully good solution to me."

"Good," John said, sounding a bit relieved. "You might know that Pip's trainer was killed before this last fight, and we haven't named an official replacement yet. This means you will be working with me to get him prepped for his next fight."