Jacked, chapter 6. (Patreon)

Here we are. Please enjoy. I've got a chapter of "Scoundrel" on the way for those of you who like that one, no need to vote for it tomorrow. But for now, you get this one:

How could one forget? How would one know which was forgotten? If another were not present and capable of telling the tale, was it even possible to recover those memories?

I did not know, and even now, the morning after such an event had occurred, I had no answers. What I had were vague thoughts of phantom fears which had plagued my sleeping mind, driving me hither and yon along vaguely seen and recalled avenues of my past. Even as I beheld the dream, it slipped from me, going back to where such dreams go.

I stretched and wiped my eyes from habit, and gazed upon the room I'd been given.

It was large. Far larger than one needed for a simple recovery bed and recharge station. There was a desk in one corner, an actual bed in another, and a walk-in closet for all the clothes Freya had purchased yesterday. It was full, of course, as Freya's maids had been quite busy.

There was even a vanity for some reason, and both chairs and bed in the space were reinforced, yet not unduly so. As if designed for someone of my new stature. There was both a recovery bed and recharge station, yet they were built into the wall and returned there as one wilt.

The walls were decorated by paper, warm pink and bright yellows competing to cavort across my surroundings. The lights were false candelabras with the latest light emitting diodes housed within, off now. There were even paintings hung upon the walls, brushed pigments across a canvas depicting nature scenes of rolling hills, mountains, trees, and lakes.

Places none from the city had ever seen, yet all knew. I was no artist, yet the works seemed better than average to me. Such expense in this room alone, and it offered no advantage in battle. Why had Freya done such a thing? Did her room look similar to this?

After all we had done the day before, I had been rushed here and unable to check on my concerns. It was for the best, I was certain. We had trained, Freya and I. After a short tour of her home, where she explained some additions she had made after I'd been here last, we had trained for some hours. Different ways to fight, how I might use my smaller stature to my advantage, and how I should dodge to gain better advantage.

The basics. I knew some already, of course, yet it would have been rude to say so, and she must know where my knowledge was in order to train me on where best I may go. I would not gainsay, as I had been beaten in truth.

This room had not been part of the tour given yesterday - or any previous tour, in fact.

There was a maid waiting for the door to open; she gave me quite the look. Up and down her eyes roved, and her expression twisted as if seeing something foul.

"Speak your mind." Only a fool looked down upon one they did not know, even if their stature was less than one's own. Freya did not hire fools, and so this one must be new.

"You've made no attempt to make yourself presentable. Lady Freya has given word that you are to be escorted to her as soon as your chamber door opens, and so we must forego such things."

"Then lead on," I told the woman. I saw no need for such fripperies, as I would simply ruin all such efforts with hard sparring as soon as possible.

I was led not outside to the arena, but instead to a long table, set with foods. Foods such as I had not seen in years. No protein bars or shakes, no pills of various colors... in their place were breads, meats, and cheeses. There were even pastries and muffins.

Such decadence halted me briefly, such that I did not see Freya at first. By the time my eyes found her, her own were on mine, and her demeanor showed clear amusement.

"Good morning. You're a little later than I expected."

"A different internal chronometer tends to do that to one. To what do we owe this... feast?"

Freya leaned back with a smile. "No occasion. We simply eat food here, when able. Have you forgotten?"

It seemed I had.

I sat. One pastry should be enough then. That and some water, of which there was a pitcher upon the table, with some glasses filled already before the empty plates. The water itself was impressive in its clarity.

A single sip proved it had the quality it looked to have; enough to match my own old home. This much should be expected of a champion's residence. Which was odd, as the expense must be truly staggering for Freya, even beyond all she currently possessed. Her compound and students and patrons paled in significance to pure water for all who dwelled within.

She could even sell such, should she have excess. As could I once. I would give such largesse away as a gift instead, to show my magnanimity. Gone were those days... for now.

"I see you still prefer water."

"It is what we need most." Our bodies turned water into the fluid which maintained our brains and spines, and Freya knew this. We could survive on any nutrition, but the true need of our remaining flesh was water, or the fluid itself directly.

None could stand drinking the fluid directly; not even myself. I had done so on a dare more than once, and regretted the act each time.

Freya had clearly already consumed her ration for the day; her own plate had some few crumbs that only those of us with enhanced eyes could spot, if we so desired. There were no such crumbs at any other place.

Freya waited patiently for me to choose my daily poison. I should ask: "Did you wait long?"

Freya shook her head, amused all over again by something that clearly caught her fancy.

"I did not. My schedule remains intact. I was hoping you might train with some of my students today."

I could not halt my frown. I needed to return to the arena as quickly as possible. Training with Freya's students would help me in that endeavor little, if at all.

Freya divined my thoughts. "You still need some practice in simple movement. My students need practice in everything, against any current or former arena candidates willing to give them time. You know how it is, and together we can teach them twice as fast. I promise you, the time spent will not be wasted."

I would trust her; I had little choice in the matter, after all. I could simply strike out again on my own, yet that road might prove too long a one to wander.

"We shall play things your way, for now."

Freya smiled wide. "Excellent. There will be no waste of time, you'll see."

I finished my pastry, wiped my mouth, and then downed the water. Even so, Freya beat me to the door.

"See? No wasted time."

I scoffed. "Nutrition pills cost less time than a pastry."

"You'll thank me later. You should learn to stop and smell what roses you can."

Neither of us had scented a rose. I would stake my life upon it.

The outer courtyard was where we had left it. It was also far more filled than we had left it the night before; a class was already in session, somehow.

Or was it? They were just standing, right in the center, still as statues. When we arrived, there was not a single stir, and if not for the eyes which darted about, I would think them all dead.

Freya led the way, and stopped directly in front of the group. She began without preamble: "The person to my left is unknown to most of you, yet they are an experienced combatant. You shall all spar with her today. Anyone who wins their bout shall join the line to spar with me. Do your best."

I stepped forward; if that was the game we were to play, then so be it. There would be none to join that line this day. "Her name, if any of you were wondering, is Gunnr."

She did that apurpose! I covered my stumble as best I could, with a glare at my tormentor.

Her smile could be mistaken for honey.

Foolish, to name me so. A female warrior known only for battle or for collecting the souls of the dead. Many meanings, and some were as beacons to the guilty. For all her words, she seemed as determined to broadcast our intentions as I had been by accident or lack of guile.

The name, regardless, was not well known and not one which had been taken in recent memory. In fact, I could not recall if it had ever been taken, though there had been some close names taken which might have been references to the ancient lore.

The first challenger stepped up. He was of the larger sort, with a slightly modified version of a chassis I recognized as a mass market strength model. The modifications were also known to me; they would offer better speed and improved strength.

It would not be enough. Even were my own body were somehow substandard, no mass market form would be able to best me, no matter the mind behind it. Not even Freya would be able to manage such.

He was in a male chassis, however, and that would prove challenge enough for now.

I allowed the student to choose his first move. The man chambered a punch, then lunged into a straight kick. A simple ploy, and yet it would be effective against anyone else.

I simply slapped the kick with a hand to gain air, and launched into a kick of my own, a spinning affair which threatened to behead the man, had I put any force into it. He ducked under, as he should, and moved in rather than out.

Those were good instincts. So were the ones that had him striking with as much force as he dared for a spar. I followed the protocol and acted as one might when over-matched; I gave ground and slipped between the blows.

My counter strikes told ere long; each of my own strikes aimed at a joint. Under the weight of such experience, he had no choice but to give ground himself.

In less than a minute, Freya called the match. "That is enough. You have failed, Micah. Step aside."

The next challenger was thin, lithe even. He was obviously built for speed as much as strength, and his body was a custom affair from a doc. I did not know the work, however the work itself was clear.

With luck, this hopeful had already come to similar conclusions about my own form, and had layered those with proper experience. If not, this battle would be as short as the first.

I had taken no damage, the previous student had been unable to target anything vital; some spars had unfortunate accidents happen, yet these seemed as disciplined as veterans, for all that I did not know the bodies or faces. I might know names, but none had introduced themselves as yet. I had not asked, of course; I would do so if any garnered my interest. I thought such odds low.

A straight right, no feint. I profiled away, toward the right, and away from any potential block to my counter, only to find I had been pre-empted. This one had another set of arms, much smaller than the primary set, attached under and to the rear of that primary set.

This was not so unusual, however, and not nearly enough to take me by surprise. I simply slipped under and impacted the man's right knee.

With full force, that would be enough to stagger my opponent and end the fight in that instant. This was a spar, however, and custom had to be followed.

The man rolled, which was certainly better instincts than simply attempting a turn; it would leave most opponents scrambling to keep the momentum.

I was experienced, however. I followed with no loss of said momentum. Two blows, and he was on the ground. He rolled over onto his stomach and laid his hands out palm down; a clear sign of surrender.

I moved in time with the blow, the next opponent thinking to steal a march upon me.

It was against the accords of combat. Especially for a simple spar. So I decided to take offense.

I caught the arm rather than letting it pass and reversed, hyperextending the joints and damaging them. The man should spend some time at the cyber-doc contemplating recent life choices.

The man was forced to follow his arm, as it was still attached. A tale as old as time, and one that ended in my kick. He appeared to have had enough.

My next opponent was female, in a custom body built in the mold of Freya's own, yet lacking many of the more expensive features. She had waited, and as I beheld her, she bowed.

I returned the favor, and let her attack as she would.

She attempted to overpower me in an instant. She should not. She should instead attempt to use what could be her greater agility....

Wait. No, those were my old instincts talking. She out-massed me by tons, as a surety. She was larger than I, and had greater muscle packed in her frame than I. Overpowering me was the correct step, as she would consider that I, being smaller and of less mass, would be both more quick and agile.

I changed my approach at the last moment, profiling to dodge rather than meet the would-be warriors' fists, as I might before. How had I almost made such an error? Seconds before, I had been keeping my own smaller form foremost in my thoughts. Why the slip? Was my brain so truly scrambled that second to second, I should lose all?

No, I must focus. The fight was now, and I could contemplate my new existence later. Even students should be taken seriously. I owed it to their will and spirit.

This one had talent; her attack was relentless, and her defense held few openings. Certainly none within my limited reach, and so I would have to create one.

I risked a block, and found myself pushed back rapidly. One block became two before I could free myself.

Even so, that separation was all I needed. I cartwheeled in, forcing my opponent to block as my feet came in. I could only fight this way due to it being a spar; should this be a real fight, I would be risking my legs and mobility, as all weapons would be used with abandon.

As soon as the maneuver spun out, I went low. When one was forced to protect high, to protect one's face, a human would invariably be a tick behind when blocking low. The risk would be in a tie-up. If I ended on the ground, with my opponent over me or close, I would lose this fight in an instant.

The sweep landed, and yet all that was accomplished was a momentary stutter. More would be required.

I reversed and hooked the leg, pulling it toward me while rolling away. The surprise was total, and the smirk my opponent had for a fleeting moment washed away. Her attempt at a grab was thankfully easily parried.

Fighting my instinct, I continued to roll away. I might carry the day by rolling forward, yet if my strike was not decisive, I would never hear the end of it.

Even so, I had regained my footing in a flash, and while the first kick did not connect, the second drove my point home before my opponent, this student, could gather herself to fend off my assault properly.

"This is boring. Gunnr, you're boring. Alright students, let's fix this. No need to worry about propriety anymore; come at her all at once. Respect the rules of combat otherwise, but if we do this one at a time, we're going to take all day, so just charge."

The students grinned. The poor fools didn't know. My answering grin seemed to give them pause, however.

Freya would have none of it, however. "What are you doing? Attack!"

Their trickle rapidly became a flood, and I lost myself in the press and dance of bodies.