Work Out Settle Down

The plane touches down and I feel terrible. A full day or so in the air, another good chunk spent in Hawaii, but not anywhere fun, several time zones, cramped seats, a broken air vent, so many other little bits of annoyance, but we've landed and it's over. A wave of relief travels through the cabin. Our shared ordeal Is over. We are free, given another short stint taxiing through the runways. I take a deep breath and I wish I didn't. The air is stale. My shoulder's asleep, but I know why. There's a stranger sleeping on it. The bump didn't rouse her.

The speaker clicks on and I catch a few words. 'Time,' 'local,' 'sunny,' 'welcome,' 'Japan.' The routine repeats in English and I am a little worried. I may have oversold my ability to translate. Troy has his phrase book and Louise has a lot of notes on her phone. Saoirse did some real studying, so she might be the best at this. I think we can have it covered. The plane bumps again and we are finally pulling into the stretchy tunnel to the airport.

That does get a fun little thrill out of me. I see Louise bounce a few rows ahead, but that's just the plane being rocky. And that does get my new stranger friend up and awake. Teenager, if I had to guess, coming home or going away or going wherever it is teenagers go on flights across an ocean. It takes a moment for her to realize where she is, who I am, what we are both doing. Then she sees the little spot of drool she's left on my sleeve and I am too tired to be mad. She apologizes. I take it in stride. Troy's even more ahead, and he looks like he wants to bolt. We are here. We need to be somewhere else. Only the absolutely maddest of men want to linger in airports any longer than they have to. The teenager keeps apologizing and I pick out more words than I thought I would. Years gone and there's still something like that in me. It's coming back. Little rusty, but that's to be expected. The kid is still apologizing.

I mangle the words out that get to a response. I brushed up a bit, by my time over here has only been calcified in broad strokes. She gives me a quizzical look but I think everything is smoothed over. The intent was there even if the words don't quite a ign. The plane stops and suddenly we all have much more important things to do. Troy's got his bag and mine and he's gone. Louise has to wait for more people to get out of her way. I let the sleepy girl go first and she hands me my carry on. Everything is even and clear and no one owes anyone anything. My head brushes the roof and my legs need more room to stretch. I see Troy's neck craned and cracked and then he's gone. The crowd pushes me and I keep moving. Planes are terrible. No one wants to be on a plane for any longer than they have to. Someone shoves me and I shove someone else. I find Troy unshaved and impatient out in the terminal. He's tired and scruffy and frustrated, but excited. Entire new country to explore and claim and run riot through and he gets to do it with all of us.

"Louise is in the bathroom," Troy yawns, "And it's going to be a bit before our luggage gets to bag claim."

I hum some noise and collapse into him. He wobbles and stands and takes my weight. Then he collapses into me. A whole day of sitting on our beautiful asses and we can't do anything anymore. Had to split up to save money and we should never save money again. Together we have a strong scaffolding. Then Saoirse slots in and we are the most stable structure in the whole complex. I have to move a lock of red hair out of my mouth. It tastes terrible and I'll be picking strands out of my teeth for weeks now. I see a head of bobbing dreads in the depths of the crowd. It slowly bobs and weaves towards. Together, we are a pretty good beacon.

"So," Louise says with a wonderful edge of excitement, "once we get the bags, where to first?"

"Hotel," Saoirse yawns, "I am still waist deep in melatonin, and I plan to get neck deep sooner rather than later. I would prefer to sleep through the jet lag."

"Lame. That's just lame."

"Shut up," Troy yawns, "I've seen the itinerary. We've penciled in a day to get better from the flight."

"Yeah, because you complained until I put one in. Can we at least get drinks or something tonight?" says Louise.

"If I'm awake," Saoirse says, "Rachel, you're going to be my pillow. If I'm asleep, then you can't go."

I whine. I would like to go get drinks, assuming I'm awake. That's going to be a gamble. It takes a bit of coordination but we start ambling down to baggage claim. We are a shambling mess, but we get there and we get our things. We even find a taxi right outside the door. The driver doesn't speak English, but he does recognize the address on Louise's phone and he takes us away. Saoirse is dozing by the time we turn out. She doesn't get to see the city, but it will be there when she wakes up. I yawn and I think I'll doze too. The city, the whole country will still be there when we get up.

---

Saoirse's leading us down a bustling street. All the streets seem to bustle. So many people crammed together, moving here and there and everywhere. At least she seems to be the only redhead with a ten-mile radius. Everyone else seems to be more of Troy's persuasion, suits and ties and looking kind of tired from fluorescent lights. Schoolkids in uniforms, more casual dressed sprinkled in here and there. All and all, it's a city. Kind of like home, kind of not. I can't read as many of the signs as I could back home, but I recognize some of the characters. Some of them mention food and I think that's how we're going to end the night. I could certainly go for some more food. Last night was the necessary ramen, but there are more noodles to try. Steak, I will convince the others to go for steak. It will be beautiful and delicious and we should get some right now. Louise squeezes my hand and I think Troy does the same to Saoirse up the road.

We've paired off, more or less. City streets are not quite accommodating of four bodies that need constant companionship. So, I have one and that's not quite enough. The morning was terrible, mostly because we couldn't go through our normalroutine. We couldn't even go through the rushed version when some of us have to work. Some of us were still drugged up. Some of us were too eager for exploration to have sex. Some of us couldn't get it up because of said sleeping drugs. And some of us realized that there were other things that can bring pleasure in life than sex. Troy is responsible like that. I decided that Saoirse had a point about jet lag. And Louise found at least three bars that we could hit on the way back to the hotel. All in all, a good start to the trip. Maybe not the most optimal, but none of us are the most optimal of beings. I'm just really strong and nice and that counts for a lot.

Saoirse takes us down another street and I recognize a sign's words. They say 'Arcade.' That's fun. Saoirse's excited and Troy seems to share the enthusiasm. I just hope it's one of the ones with tickets and prizes. Louise seemed to like the idea of Mr. Fangy and Ms. Bitey having a kid. Maybe some sort of lizard or bear. We'll see what they have.

Inside, there are lights and noises and less people than there was outside. Some people, a good number of people, but I can move and walk and not brush against anything. They do not have a prize booth, but they do have a claw machine. And an excited Louise that drags me over. I lose sight of my other two. There're only so many places they can be. We'll find them eventually.

"I want the frog," she says with a pointing finger.

"I think that's a cat," I say.

"No, I know what frogs look like. That's a frog."

"It could be a squirrel too. Really, I think it's anything but a frog."

She gives me an adorable pout that's much better than the smile the not frog is giving me. But I put my quarter up and that's all we can do.

I don't get the thing. Louise tries and she can't get it either. I take one more shot and I knock over something else that might be a penguin. One more shot from her and we get nothing. There is nothing at all. Failure and desolation and now we are sad. There are school kids laughing at us, but they are school kids. They all have terrible ideas that no one should listen to.

Then Louise sees another set of dancing lights and now that's what we're going towards. The sorrow is forgotten. I recognize what this one has dangling underneath the top. It's a speed bag. I know what to do with those. The tendons and the muscle fibers respond with stimulus before the neurons even know what I am looking at. Louise glances at my arms and back to me and back to my arms. She works her lips under her teeth before she realizes that there are people around. I'm not the only one who's realized our dry spell. It'll break. Tonight probably, after our dinner and show.

She goes first on the bag. There's a bit of a wind up, good form, good follow through and a very satisfying thump as her fist hits the leather. It goes up into the machine and a number starts rolling and rolling and rolling before settling on a respectable 841. I assume that's good. I also know for a fact that her kicks could lap that easily, but there simply isn't enough room. She flexes her arms and I look at those and then back to her and then back to her arms and she sees something in my eyes that makes her want to work her lip again. Public, we are in public and this is a foreign country. We are guests here and we have to be on our best behavior. She pays for my round and I take the stance. I hit the bag and the numbers roll. They stop at 999. Louise looks completely dejected.

"What did you expect?" I shrug.

"You to fail at something for once in your life," she sighs, "We need to find Troy. He might match that at least."

"Maybe," I say, "He does get lucky sometimes."

"Please. He can hit hard. I can hit hard. You can hit hard. We just need to find out the proper list. I think he and Saoirse went upstairs."

Despite her pouting, she takes my hand again. She pulls me to the narrow stairs. We brush past someone and they brush past us. I get a double take when something inadvertently touches my arm. I smile. Everyone loves my arms today and it's great. I love my arms. They are strong and corded and there are not enough clothes in the world to hide any of it or any of me. I feel beautiful. I also feel a bit hungry, but that's further down the line.

The second floor has more lights and some more intense fair than carnival games. Steering wheels and joysticks and a row of space age pods in the back. One of them is shaking violently and filling the room with explosions. On the other side are a set of drum machines and dance pads and more noise. Louise likes this room. She gravitates towards the drums and I start meandering through the machines. I keep an eye on her just in case she decides to wander off. But she's hitting something else. She knows the pleasure of simply carnal violence against objects and it will never be forgotten.

The pod in the back ceases shaking and Troy emerges bewildered and overwhelmed. He looks like a little kid that just had a straight shot of uncut sugar to the heart. He blinks and sees me and smiles as he runs over.

"I was in a robot," he says.

"No, you were in a pod," I say.

"It turns into a robot. Do you think the new house would have room? No, it wouldn't. We can put it out in a shed or something."

I nod. I assume he has the financials all figured out right. We have enough money for a pod. Judging from the noises I'm hearing, Louise would also want a drum machine. She's having fun over there.

"Where's Saoirse?" I ask.

"Upstairs. She left me. I was scared, but the pod welcomed me."

He checks his watch and comes to a somewhat scary conclusion. Louise has suckered herself to a spot, so she seems to be safe. We just need our red head and we have to move. Another staircase and another tight squeeze, this time me on Troy's pinchable ass, and we come to rows and rows of machines in pairs. They scream of violence and combat and I understand what they mean. Violence is a beautiful thing. And Saoirse agrees. She has her post and now she's hurting some unseen stranger with deadly precision. I look and I think she's winning. She doesn't see us, but her bar is bigger and big bars are always better than tiny bars. Then one more hit happens and it turns out I was wrong. She lost. That's terrible. She handles it better than I would. She merely draws in a sharp breath through her nose and lets the slight flow through her. We are unfortunately here to ruin her day and draw her away. She stands and stretches just as her opponent does. Another terrible teenager, a boy this time, gathers his bag and does a double take at us. Then he settles on Saoirse.

"Not too bad," he says, through an understandable accent, "Too much throw."

Saoirse nods and gives a respectable pass at a 'thank you.' The kid doubles down on a double take when he sees me. A bunch of invaders come to throw down and apparently we're better than he could ever imagine. Then his phone buzzes and he grabs his bag and that means he has so many other things to do. I hope he does them well.

"That little shit kicked my ass," she sighs, "Training for months and still bodied."

"I can go kick his ass for real if it would make you feel better," I offer.

"No, he did nothing wrong. Thank you though."

It's her phone's turn to chime and that means everyone is scared and missing us. They're out front and our show's starting soon enough to be a problem. The line's going to be bad. The trains are going to be packed. But first, we have to actually leave the land of flashy lights and loud noises. And that's fine. There are more loud noises to take in.

---

A hush falls over the crowd and there is complete darkness. Then my eyes adjust and there is slightly less darkness. The music comes and the people clap. I clap. Troy claps. Louise whistles and Saoirse cheers. The lights come up and there are sparks and noise and the crowd is cheering. A man walks down, flexing and pointing. The crowd responds and the music is loud and I love it.

His name is Shining Tetsuo and he clambers into the ring. One quick tour through the ropes, waving and flexing and looking very important and strong. I could probably take him. Maybe. He can summon sparks and fire from the floor and I can't do that. So, I clap for him and he doesn't care about me at all. That's fine. He has a fight coming up and that's more important than any of us.

The lights dim and we have a moment of collective blindness. Then another song starts and it's much more imposing. I like this one. It's harsh and terrifying and deep in the darkness. Some part of my soul resonates with it and the people jeer my ascension. The heel comes out with a long red and black cape. The announcer says his name is Brittle Bullet and I love him. I hope he wins. The crowd boos him and I cheer. Louise elbows me in the ribs and I regret nothing.

"You're not supposed to cheer for the bad guy," she hisses.

"Who says he's the bad guy?" I retort, "Tetsuo might be the bad guy."

"Bad guys don't wear white."

The bell goes off and we're not supposed to make any more noise. The fight happens and it starts off slow. Brittle Bullet is bigger and therefore stronger. The mascara is runny and smudgy and makes him look like he's made of smoke. The smoke man takes a knee to the temple and gets covered for a solid two count. The ref backs away and lets the men get back to getting sweaty and slamming into one another. There's a woman's match after this and I am definitely looking forward to that.

Slaps and chops, a few elbows all thrown at a glacial pace and I can't help but feel the impact. The stomps on the mat and the resounding crowd reaction sell it more than the motion and the connections. Then someone's upside down and spinning and laid out again. Brittle Bullet's climbing and I hear the announcer say something to the effect of 'Head Shot.' I can't wait to see what that is. Turns out it's a flip into a leg drop landing right on stupid Tetsuo's head. The crowd boos. I cheer. Louise gives me another side look. I am completely in the right and everyone should be more like me.

They go back to circling and dancing. Brittle Bullet's smiling and wild and beautiful. The makeup's smudged and I can't help but notice the lines on Tetsuo's arms. That's an idea. More of us need darker makeup to mark the others. Louise's gold period only lasted a little while and it washed off too easy. Tetsuo goes for some intricate hold that looks like a pretzel, but it's not effective. Another kick out and the crowd is getting restless. I want blood. They want blood. Everything wants blood.

I go back on my assessment of Brittle Bullet. He might be a coward. He's outside the ring now, fumbling underneath the ring. He has a steel chair now and I don't know where the legal ruling is. The ref is preoccupied with an eye poke I seemed to have missed and now everything is back in the ring. The steel chair hits with a very nice thwack and the crowd boos again. I settle on Brittle Bullet's side. It's a fight. Unconventional weaponry ought to be used in such altercations. Really, he should be applauded for his ingenuity.

But all my love cannot seem to change fate. Tetsuo regains his ground, everything's topsy turvy for a moment, upside down and sideways and longways and now my beloved Bullet is suspended in the air on his shoulders and now he's on the mat. The lights shake and shimmer and I catch the word 'Starfall' from the announcers and I have to admit, there was something that caused a tremor in the floor. I can respect a good hit. The ref counts the three and everyone except me seems too happy. Tetsuo's music is up again and the people seem to like it. A stretcher comes for poor Brittle Bullet. He deserves the best treatment his contract can provide.

"You look like you're going to cry," Louise teases. Her hand is around my waist and I do feel a bit better.

"I do not," I say, "Stop exaggerating."

"Fine. You don't look like you're going to cry. But you do look like you're going to throw a chair. Why do you even like him?"

"The music. Don't tell me you liked Tetsuo's theme?"

"Eh, not really. But I'm not rooting for the bad guy. Who does that? That's like wanting the penguins to get eaten in a nature documentary."

I concede the point, but I feel that the feelings would shift if the predators had a sick guitar riff whenever they were on screen.

Everyone takes a moment to recenter themselves. Some get up to go to the bathroom. Some get up for snacks. Troy does a nice twist on that one, offering to get us all another round of stadium beers. Louise goes with him and I'm left with Saoirse. The energy is keeping her up, but she's fading. I'm fading too. A big day and a big night and we still have to stagger back to our hotel after this. She scooches over and lays her head on my shoulder, still feeding off the energy of the crowd. That can keep us going for a good while longer.

---

Louise likes to be carried. Over the shoulder, princess, overhead, lifted by the collar, haven't really tried an ankle hoist, but it's on the docket. This time, it's over the shoulder. I am wonderfully close to her ass and the way she keeps wiggling against my cheek is beautiful. Taut and springy and bouncy and the excitement is finally getting to me. Saoirse and Troy have a little tamer courtship of wandering hands and eager glances and wonderful pinches that can only come with the territory. I watch Saoirse work her palm into his crotch with a deadly serious look in her eyes. Then a moment of self-awareness comes to her and we all stop at our temporary threshold.

"Oh God," she says, "I've finally become one of you."

Louise giggles on my shoulders and she wriggles and shimmies around. Her core tenses and that is one of my favorite pieces of her. All of her is my favorite piece of her.