Domesticated

An exercize in the 2nd person turned sketch on a being Mica once looked up to. part 1 of 3

         The Meat Shak. The walls were always decorated in fresh bloodstains. There was a three-inch coating of filth carpeting the cement that made a curious squishing sound underfoot. And the house band? They didn’t know a synthesizer from a sitar.

          All of this, Viante could ignore. The one thing that got to him, however, was the pungent odor. An indigo haze constantly lingered about four feet above the crudely drawn octagon, the line signifying where the spectators couldn’t cross. The place reeked of sour, rusty sweat from humans and the building alike. It was an abandoned slaughterhouse, closed down from its history of severely poor sanitation and rumors of occult rituals. Sacrifices, perhaps. Were he simply a human, Viante wouldn’t be able to distinguish the variety of stenches, but his canine nasal cavity couldn’t help it. The scent of blood and lemon juice that came from the grinder. The smell of salty fungus that came from the conveyor belt. It was all too much to bear. Authorities might have feared nothing more than answering a call of distress to this location if they hadn’t already given up on this particular district altogether. That’s why the stakes here were the highest and the crowd the loudest. Viante was always the one chosen to fight here for the Malachi Institute and had the highest ratio of 12:26:3. Twelve knockouts, twenty-six kills, three draws. The draws were decided by the smart investors who realized the talent in their own fighters and paid for amnesty from the inevitable doom from White Lightening (Viante hated his generic stage name).

+++

         You are one of the few silent observers. You didn’t even want to be here, but you didn’t have much choice, now. The guys you were with, they were your ride here and you can’t exactly call a cab. Not in this neighborhood. Considering what’s outside the Meat Shak (the people banned form entering), you’re safer in the crowd here. This is your first time here, so you’ve only heard rumors about White Lightening. He definitely doesn’t fit the description you had in your mind’s eye. He’s not even white. He’s got a perplexed look on his face like he’s sorry for being there. The mater of ceremonies has raised a bullhorn to his mouth.

          “Kill!”

          You can’t take your eyes off of Viante. The other guy has already changed. Looks like some kind of bear. Deep in your subconscious, you wish you could see Viante change too. He won’t though, just because you want him to. Spiteful bastard.

          The other guy has got Viante by the head. He’s the tallest guy in the Meat Shak by at least two feet. You’re nudged by a half-drunk spectator on your right.

          “Shasta’s gonna break ‘is ribs, man!”

          It’s your driver. You pickpocket his keys and turn your attention back to the fight. Viante’s being bear-hugged by the…bear. You’ve seen this in video games and on wrestling shows, but this is different. Shasta (you guess that’s the other guy’s name) is holding Viante horizontally across his left side and is pulling on his left arm with his right. You can see Viante’s face. He doesn’t look like his wind’s knocked out of him. He doesn’t look like his ribs are popping. His expression hasn’t changed since the fight started. But in the position he’s in, he’s helpless. Completely helpless.

          “Change into White Lightening!!!” somebody shouts.

          You look around to see who it was and notice everyone in your general vicinity is staring at you. Oh shit. It was you. You look back at Viante and freeze. He’s returning your stare. Only his eyes aren’t sad anymore. They’re angry. Angry at you. He head butts the bear once, getting an immediate release. He buries his fists inside the bear’s upper torso, not taking his eyes off of you. Even as he kills Shasta, stomping his foot through the bear’s skull, he’s making eye contact with you. He’s won the match and he doesn’t care. He’s pointing at you now. You’re staring at him.

          His gaze is broken by the taser stabs from official-looking guys wearing black suits. The leader of the straps a chain around the collar on his neck and drags his across the octagon, spitting on him for good measure. He rubs Viante’s face in the bloody mess that used to be Shasta. The official types then probe him again until at last yields and morphs. They all back off swiftly, but the wolf stays still. Viante seems calmer as a beast than as a man. As the one holding the leash leads him out of the octagon, Viante turns around and looks around for a moment. He’s probably looking for you as if to ask if you’re happy now. Are you?

***

          Whenever Viante woke up, he’d try his best to keep his heart rate as low as possible. That way he wouldn’t be disturbed and could catch a few hours of meditation to clear his mind, summon inner strength, and repent for his deeds. It was difficult to go through his daily routine; training the kids in Hap Ki Do, taking his meds, and playing bodyguard for the “Big Men”.

          Viante hated to inhale the vapors of his room. The smell of formaldehyde mixed with hand sanitizer wasn’t something he was fond of. Today, however, he detected Chenzi’s scent and thus, bypassed his normal morning ritual.

          “Chenzi! You are here?”

         “Don’t mind me, mister Viante. Sleep some more.”

         “Why are you…?”

         “They sent me to check on you. Said Brutis was too hard on the treatment this time.”

         Immediately Viante felt the back of his neck. The blood had recently clotted, but the knot on the back of his head hadn’t subsided yet.

          “They said you were out of control. What happened?”

          Viante thought for a moment. He’d probably killed someone again. He sat up in lotus position, trying to become as comfortable as the chains would allow.
That’s when it hit him.

          “Am I a circus freak or do they all really marvel at my abilities?”

          At this, Chenzi formed a sad smile.

          “I guess even circus freaks think they’re artists.”

          Viante had never been a stickler for details and forgot that the circus was where the organization had ‘acquired’ the young Chenzi from only a year ago. History was never a subject Viante ever paid much attention to. He looked at Chenzi for the first time and noticed the swelling under the youth’s right eye. Chenzi looked away, afraid to discuss it.

          “I will break these chains and drag you into the light if you try to hide it from me.”

          “I slept late and Trosco was on duty. He just gave me a wake up call. It’s nothing.”

          Even among the lawless, Trosco was considered a demon. He had experimented unsuccessfully on his younger siblings before getting the right dosage of canid extract and lion plasma on himself, giving him artificial, but ungodly strength. He was sadist with a fondness for bullying children. Especially Chenzi. Viante never wished death on anyone before he met Trosco.

          “Speaking of the devil…” Viante muttered, watching the door open.

          “Lemme see it, then!” Trosco shoved Chenzi into the light.

          “My, my, what a shiner!” Trosco patted himself on the back, admiring his trophy. “You’d look a lot better with matching bruises, though, kiddie.” Trosco laughed, wrapping his long tail around the youth. He was one of the few able to act and function normally when morphed.

          “Back off, psycho!”

          Viante tried distracting Trosco so he would remember his original reason for coming. His adversary gave him a toothy grin, dangling Chenzi just out of Viante’s reach.

          “Please.”

          It was soft, but audible. Chenzi normally remained silent during Trosco’s torturous play. The beast’s grin extended from ear to ear upon hearing this word from his victim. He positioned the boy in front of himself like a punching bag.

          “Pow.” Trosco looked directly at Viante as he elbowed Chenzi in the left eye. Viante remained still, pretending not to notice, as Trosco loved getting a reaction for his deeds.

          “How fucking boring you are today, Viante.” Trosco announced, throwing Chenzi out of the room. He revealed a vial and sucked up the contents with a syringe.

          “Let’s change that, okay?”

***