Chapter Seven~
The only good thing about where the address led Mayberry was that the massive, gothic-inspired Traumadome Arena afforded her excellent parking. Everything else was suspect, if not confusing.
The interior that held the boy she scried looked too much like a laboratory. If it was one, then what was it doing in a sports arena? Where was it located? How could she reach it?
Disguises could do the trick, but she hadn't yet time to develop a situational selection of clothes. Something to ponder on later.
She couldn't walk in without paying, which left her to sneak in or use good old-fashioned breaking and entering, something she had little experience doing.
In any event, that seemed the more prudent course since time wasted on second-guessing would be time diminished for rescue.
Taking a bearing on the rear of the building, Mayberry casually moved around as many large cars, vans, and trucks as she could find. Using them, the dark of the evening, and her costume as cover, she avoided being noticed by the patrons entering the venue.
Finally reaching the dimly-lit rear loading docks, she was surprised to spot the boy in conversation with a male demon by the rear of a parked loading van.
Upon noticing her wary approach, the male gave the child a reassuring rub between his nubby horns and sent him off.
"Hey, are you all right?" was all Mayberry had time to ask the boy as he ran past her in the direction of the parking lot around the front.
With the boy out of sight, the male demon strolled over to Mayberry, prompting her to stop to maintain a cautious distance from him.
The stranger stopped his approach, facing her from a few yards away. Close enough to talk at the moment.
"Were you the one who took him?" Mayberry asked. "Where's he going?"
The stranger shrugged good-naturedly. "Oh, his folks are taking him home, now. Wish I was going with him. They're having Sloppy Joes tonight."
Heart sinking, Mayberry wasn't liking what the situation was telling her. Set-up City. Population: her. "He wasn't in trouble."
The male shook his head. "To be honest, most of us didn't think it would work. Fooling the news into reporting that one of the Crown's children was kidnapped just to draw you out. Not only were you, but you managed to find him on the same day. Were you a detective when you were alive?"
Banter aside, May knew he had her dead to rights. Still, the worse thing she could do now was to lose control of the situation or show weakness, especially to a fellow demon.
Mayberry shrugged. "I didn't want to brag. So, you're with The Crown?"
"I am."
"Then, why do all of this?" she asked. "Why set me up? I thought The Crown wanted me to join because they wanted to help people."
"Well, help is a relative thing, and that was before they knew that you were a Sinner."
"Oh! Hold on, I'll pretend to be shocked," May snarked.
"Sorry," the stranger continued amiably, seeming to wander past her, but had begun to close the gap between them slightly. "But, the scientist in me is curious to know how you keep finding children so quickly."
Mayberry took a step back, keeping her eyes on his angle of approach. "Sorry. Trade secret."
"I had to ask," he shrugged again. "In any event, you're here now, and I have work to do." From his oblique position to her, if he was fast enough, he could intercept her if she turned and bolted for the parking lot.
"Well, if you just back off, I'll leave you to it, then," she warned.
The male raised a finger in cessation, his attention now bearing more upon her. "Not so fast. You see, you're my work. My great work that will help change society."
"Well, they say that change starts with you," she quipped, retreating another step, but keeping him in sight.
"What's your burden that's actually a blessing? I need to share it with my brothers and sisters."
That request gave her pause. What did he want from her curse, of all things? Something that made him want to trap her, at any rate. Something that made it essential to keep herself as far from him as possible.
"That many, huh? I don't know if there's enough of me to spread around."
"What is your curse, Sinner?" the male asked directly, doing away with the hollow pretense of conversation.
"My curse?" Mayberry seemed to ponder, hoping to keep him distracted as she backed away. "Probably, that I care too much. But, if that's a failing, I think I can live with that."
"Cute."
Mayberry pulled at one of the lapels of her dress admiringly. "You think so? I wanted to wear something easy to move around in."
She ran as he sprang after her, moving in a wide arc to cut her off. Yet, he didn't close with her, as if toying with her.
Now that he was the obstruction, Mayberry had limited options-fighting her way past him or lose that fight.
Options were more out of reach as the male demon's skin became translucent and solidly reflective under the weak lights of the loading dock.
His stature and build began to enlarge in quick spurts. Defeating and tearing all but his now split trousers, his clothing was reduced to ill-fitting scraps that fell away and fluttered to the oil-stained asphalt.
A seven-foot, solid steel brute, he might as well have been a wall to her now. A wall that moved in on her with a slow but inexorable purpose. Massive arms opened wide enough to snatch her if she tried to maneuver past him.
"Big and Tall's got nothing on you," Mayberry muttered, finding herself being goaded further into the dock's environs to avoid him.
His response was a sudden grasp at her, but his heavy arm proved slow enough for her to hop further back.
This didn't deter him, however. His counter-strategy was to act as a lumbering yet patient goalie. He stayed far enough from her to keep watch and corral her, ready to intercept her with his arm span.
"I'm guessing you're Wild Card, huh? I caught your show the other day," May surmised. "Did that wrestler you killed have something you wanted, too?"
"Actually, she rejected something I gave her," he answered in a basso profundo voice. "So, I had to dispose of that particular test subject. But her sacrifice, like yours, will bring me a step closer to my dream!"
"The perfect wedding dress?"
An unimpressed sneer played across the metal of his face.
"Oh, come on. That was funny! Whoa!"
She hopped away from Wild Card's next attack, a downward, open-handed swipe meant to knock her prone, if not maul.
He overextended and struck the dock's asphalt, cracking it noticeably. Then, he recovered again, smartly keeping his arms open.
Meanwhile, thoughts of how he dispatched Rage-a-Rama with his hands alone convinced Mayberry to try something more direct. The longer she remained, the better his chances were to lay one of those inescapable hands upon her.
"Okay, I don't have time for this shit," May growled under her breath.
Allowing her Fight or Flight response and fearful frustration free rein sparked her own transformation, her glowing body and seemingly flaming hair heralding the summoning of her accursed, super-demonic strength.
Wild Card finally paused, sure he was in the presence of her curse's manifestation, but unsure of its nature or how to proceed. Caution made him prudent, but the scientist in him needed to test the situation.
He swung widely, yet experimentally, at her again.
Ducking it and finding an opening inside his defense, May didn't try to slip past, but stopped, pivoted to him, and fired a straight jab into his gut.
The blow rang like a dull gong, spreading Wild Card's eyes wide in painful surprise.
He staggered back, and looking down upon his bare midriff, he spotted a noticeable dent where her fist connected.
"Ugh! Y-Yes! Your strength!" he gasped, feeling no animosity through his pain, but the satisfaction of a successful test conclusion. "That's...your power. I have to have it!"
Rallying his stamina through solid and cleansing breaths, Wild Card moved in again, throwing a jab May's way that she managed to catch defensively in her hands.
The inkling that the deceptively slow strike was relatively easy to intercept dawned on her a shade too late. Before she could shove the fist away, the trap was sprung.
His prehensile tail launched like a serpent, snaking around her waist as she was distracted, lifting and crushing her in its embrace.
Its grasp was unyielding, like a boa made of bridge cable. Every time May exhaled in her thrashing, the tail slipped around her midsection tighter, painfully denying her more precious air.
Leverage was now her enemy. No matter how strong the teacher was, she couldn't push or pry away from the taut, merciless coils.
Fireflies danced on the edges of May's vision, and her demonic aura began to sputter. Shortness of breath proceeded to snuff out the flame of her will, her strength, and her senses like a douter.
In the end, her lightheadedness became merciful. She barely felt the anvils of Wild Card's free hands punch and backhand her until she slackened into oblivion.
He examined his senseless prey by raising her to eye level with his tail.
"Hmm...A glass cannon. I'll have to remember that," he muttered curiously before hopping up on the dock's elevated leveler platform and walking through its open overhead door, carrying Mayberry into the darkness.