The Portal
Disclaimer: The standard words that someone else owns all of the main characters in this story.
Rating: R (Where's the fun, if you can't push the boundaries a little further.)
Chapter Nine
[Author's Note: Like several of the characters, I assume many of the readers don't read Latin or Ancient Greek. So the readers can follow the dialog and still know which characters know what is being said and which ones don't, I am implementing the following simple method: " Text " = English "L text " = Latin "G text " = Greek
Now on with the story.]
Lex and Clark walked out of their third tavern of the evening. "Well, Lex, are we any closer to finding the Professor?" asked Clark.
"Maybe. One of the guys I talked to said that the mystery canyon guards hang out at the Green Chariot Tavern two streets over."
"The Green Chariot tavern. And this one was the Red Charioteer. What's the significance of the names?"
"From what I gathered here and talking to Chloe before we left the palace, most people back here are insanely fanatical about chariot racing. We hear mostly about the gladiator fighting back home, but in reality it was a very distant second to chariot racing. There are four different factions: red, white, green, and blue. Think of it like modern baseball, all of the moderate sized towns out in the provinces have farm teams. The better drivers and horse teams move up to bigger cities and eventually the best end up at the Circus Maximus in Rome. Anyway many taverns are associated with a specific color, hence the names."
"Hmmm," said Clark, "now that you mention it a lot of the guys in the last tavern did seem to have red somewhere in their clothing. Sort of like the Bloods and Crips back home."
"Oh, I think it is a lot scarier here than that." Clark gave him a sharp look. "Think about it. You always hear stories about brawls breaking out between fans at soccer matches in Europe. And those are supposedly 'civilized' people. What about here? These people watch other people hack each other to bits for fun. For fun. People like Marcus have this veneer of civilization, but the people I have been talking to in these taverns. . . Well, I wouldn't deal with them back home without a good-sized security force for back-up."
"Do you want to call it quits? Perhaps we can come up with a safer way to find the Professor," said Clark.
"No. I want to get this over with and get us back home. Just keep your eyes open, we may need to make a quick exit."
Clark nodded as they reached the entrance to the Green Chariot. Like the other taverns they had visited this evening, it was doing a booming business. Even before entering they could hear a band playing and a lot of men singing along. Once through the door Clark saw thirty to forty men at tables and benches around the perimeter of the large room. Everyone was drinking wine or ale and a lot of them were eating bread and mutton stew. The band was located in the back left corner of the room along with most of those singing. Clark didn't understand the words, but it was obviously a raunchy song directed towards the two women dancing in a cleared area between the band and the bar. From what Lex had explained after the first tavern, these women were house prostitutes along with the other five or six women scattered at tables around the room.
In a little over 12 hours in Tolosa Clark had seen more naked or near naked bodies than in a lifetime in Smallville. He had even seen Chloe and Lana in less than they would have dared back in Smallville. But he was still shocked to see people openly fucking in public, as went on in these taverns.
While Clark was observing the room, Lex had headed over to the bar. Clark realized that more eyes were following Lex's progress than had occurred in the previous taverns. And the noise level, which had been extremely high, had dropped very slightly, but a noticeable amount to Clark. He quickly hurried after Lex.
He arrived at the bar, where Lex was talking to the bartender, just as a dagger flashed across the room aimed at Lex's back. Clark saw it when it as twelve inches from Lex. As it always did in these situations, time seemed to almost grind to a halt. As he moved towards the dagger, Clark scanned the room until he spotted the thrower whose arm was still in the follow-through motion.
Then Clark wrapped his fist around the hilt of the dagger and stopped it six inches from Lex's back. To the eyes that had been following Lex through the room, Clark's left arm appeared to slam out of nowhere to catch the knife. Clark then scanned the room meeting the eyes of a number of the guys who had been watching Lex before settling his gaze on the one who had thrown the knife.
Clark gave a slow deliberate shake of his head and casually tossed the dagger up into the air. Then moving somewhat faster than humanly possible, he pivoted his body, caught the blade in his right hand, and threw it impossibly fast towards the assassin. Before anyone could turn their eyes to follow the knife, it passed one inch to the side of his head and buried itself in the timber wall behind him. The six-inch blade was buried to the hilt. Later, several men would try to remove it, but none of them could budge it until finally the blade snapped off.
Lex felt some movement behind him, but all of the action was over before he could turn. When he did finally turn Clark was striding off across the room.
Clark walked up to the man who had thrown the dagger and grabbed his leather vest just below the throat with one hand. Holding him up so that his toes just touched the ground, Clark marched him back over to Lex.
"Lex, I think this is the one we want to talk to," Clark said as he hoisted the man off of the ground and slammed his back against a ceiling support beam at the edge of the bar. The man who was at least ten inches shorter than Clark dangled a good foot and a half above the floor.
"And how did you happen to choose him?" asked Lex as he looked the man over. At first he looked as scared as any man Lex had seen in a long time. Then a look of relief crossed his face as he looked past Clark and Lex. Lex turned and looked back too. "Shit." Eight men with drawn swords were approaching.
End of Chapter Nine
Disclaimer: The standard words that someone else owns all of the main characters in this story.
Rating: R (Where's the fun, if you can't push the boundaries a little further.)
Chapter Nine
[Author's Note: Like several of the characters, I assume many of the readers don't read Latin or Ancient Greek. So the readers can follow the dialog and still know which characters know what is being said and which ones don't, I am implementing the following simple method: " Text " = English "L text " = Latin "G text " = Greek
Now on with the story.]
Lex and Clark walked out of their third tavern of the evening. "Well, Lex, are we any closer to finding the Professor?" asked Clark.
"Maybe. One of the guys I talked to said that the mystery canyon guards hang out at the Green Chariot Tavern two streets over."
"The Green Chariot tavern. And this one was the Red Charioteer. What's the significance of the names?"
"From what I gathered here and talking to Chloe before we left the palace, most people back here are insanely fanatical about chariot racing. We hear mostly about the gladiator fighting back home, but in reality it was a very distant second to chariot racing. There are four different factions: red, white, green, and blue. Think of it like modern baseball, all of the moderate sized towns out in the provinces have farm teams. The better drivers and horse teams move up to bigger cities and eventually the best end up at the Circus Maximus in Rome. Anyway many taverns are associated with a specific color, hence the names."
"Hmmm," said Clark, "now that you mention it a lot of the guys in the last tavern did seem to have red somewhere in their clothing. Sort of like the Bloods and Crips back home."
"Oh, I think it is a lot scarier here than that." Clark gave him a sharp look. "Think about it. You always hear stories about brawls breaking out between fans at soccer matches in Europe. And those are supposedly 'civilized' people. What about here? These people watch other people hack each other to bits for fun. For fun. People like Marcus have this veneer of civilization, but the people I have been talking to in these taverns. . . Well, I wouldn't deal with them back home without a good-sized security force for back-up."
"Do you want to call it quits? Perhaps we can come up with a safer way to find the Professor," said Clark.
"No. I want to get this over with and get us back home. Just keep your eyes open, we may need to make a quick exit."
Clark nodded as they reached the entrance to the Green Chariot. Like the other taverns they had visited this evening, it was doing a booming business. Even before entering they could hear a band playing and a lot of men singing along. Once through the door Clark saw thirty to forty men at tables and benches around the perimeter of the large room. Everyone was drinking wine or ale and a lot of them were eating bread and mutton stew. The band was located in the back left corner of the room along with most of those singing. Clark didn't understand the words, but it was obviously a raunchy song directed towards the two women dancing in a cleared area between the band and the bar. From what Lex had explained after the first tavern, these women were house prostitutes along with the other five or six women scattered at tables around the room.
In a little over 12 hours in Tolosa Clark had seen more naked or near naked bodies than in a lifetime in Smallville. He had even seen Chloe and Lana in less than they would have dared back in Smallville. But he was still shocked to see people openly fucking in public, as went on in these taverns.
While Clark was observing the room, Lex had headed over to the bar. Clark realized that more eyes were following Lex's progress than had occurred in the previous taverns. And the noise level, which had been extremely high, had dropped very slightly, but a noticeable amount to Clark. He quickly hurried after Lex.
He arrived at the bar, where Lex was talking to the bartender, just as a dagger flashed across the room aimed at Lex's back. Clark saw it when it as twelve inches from Lex. As it always did in these situations, time seemed to almost grind to a halt. As he moved towards the dagger, Clark scanned the room until he spotted the thrower whose arm was still in the follow-through motion.
Then Clark wrapped his fist around the hilt of the dagger and stopped it six inches from Lex's back. To the eyes that had been following Lex through the room, Clark's left arm appeared to slam out of nowhere to catch the knife. Clark then scanned the room meeting the eyes of a number of the guys who had been watching Lex before settling his gaze on the one who had thrown the knife.
Clark gave a slow deliberate shake of his head and casually tossed the dagger up into the air. Then moving somewhat faster than humanly possible, he pivoted his body, caught the blade in his right hand, and threw it impossibly fast towards the assassin. Before anyone could turn their eyes to follow the knife, it passed one inch to the side of his head and buried itself in the timber wall behind him. The six-inch blade was buried to the hilt. Later, several men would try to remove it, but none of them could budge it until finally the blade snapped off.
Lex felt some movement behind him, but all of the action was over before he could turn. When he did finally turn Clark was striding off across the room.
Clark walked up to the man who had thrown the dagger and grabbed his leather vest just below the throat with one hand. Holding him up so that his toes just touched the ground, Clark marched him back over to Lex.
"Lex, I think this is the one we want to talk to," Clark said as he hoisted the man off of the ground and slammed his back against a ceiling support beam at the edge of the bar. The man who was at least ten inches shorter than Clark dangled a good foot and a half above the floor.
"And how did you happen to choose him?" asked Lex as he looked the man over. At first he looked as scared as any man Lex had seen in a long time. Then a look of relief crossed his face as he looked past Clark and Lex. Lex turned and looked back too. "Shit." Eight men with drawn swords were approaching.
End of Chapter Nine