The Bathrobe Knight: Volume 2 (13 page)

“Pleeeease . . .” she maintained her pose.

“Fine, fine, but no more swinging daggers at me,” Darwin finally broke down and agreed. Part of it was because of how pitiful she looked begging, but the rest of it was simply because it sounded fun. It just made sense that facing off against the toughest swordsmen in the city was definitely more interesting than shopping around and seeing the sights, and it wasn’t like he was going to make it back to the boat to grab two of Alex’s men in time to register with faction members only.

“Marvelous. Let’s give them your John Hancock and make it official then,” Kitchens said as he started walking towards the line.

You have been invited to Kitchens’ Party. Would you like to
Accept
or
Reject?

             
Yes. Accept.

              “It’s kind of odd, don’t you think?” Minx asked, pushing in between the two of them as they sat in line. “We’re in an advanced VRMMO with the best technology, but the way they enter us in a tournament is through simple pen and paper.”

              “Yeah, I guess you could say that is a bit odd,” Darwin agreed. “But I think it’s more for realism. It wouldn’t be too immersive if everything was done through Tiqpa command prompts, now would it?”

              “No, nope nope,” she put a finger over her lips as she thought for a moment, “It wouldn’t.”

              “Indeed,” Kitchens also agreed.

              When they got to the end of the line, they put their names down on the paper and walked over to the waiting area with the rest of the teams. The waiting area was nothing more than a giant, empty room with a garden and stone benches circling stone tables and gazebo-style covers. The three of them picked the first empty one they could find and sat down, causing another group of contestants--weird, Rhino humanoids--that looked like it was trying to take the same table scoff and walk away. As they waited, a young Chinese girl in a white robe came by and poured the three of them some tea.

While they sat there sipping the tea, he could feel their beady eyes on him from time to time, even though every time he looked up they would look away. Their movements were too obvious. This was a game he was used to. It was a game that had defined many of the lunch periods from his old days at school. A simple game where every now and then he’d see if he could catch one of them looking and make awkward eye contact.

“You’re the first Human, you know. It’s why they can’t help but look,” Kitchens said, noticing Darwin’s little eye-contact game.

“Ha, if only I were Human,” Darwin laughed too softly for the others to hear.

The three of them continued sipping their tea quietly--or as quietly as they could with Minx yammering on about everything she saw and observed--when they were finally approached by one of the other groups, who came over to the other side of the table and stood in front of the remaining seats.

“Nya, I see you have new companion, traitor,” the one in front spoke in a heavy Japanese accent. She was a cute, five-foot-six, black-haired cat lady, one modeled more after a common domestic cat than a feral species like the lynx, but only having ears and a cat tail and dressed in full ninja garb from neck to toe.

“Nya, he looks so poor? Is he a beggar? His kimono is very cheap,
ne
. Nya, it’s like bathrobe,
ne
,” another Asian girl dressed like a ninja, also modeled after a domestic cat but with whiskers and a cat nose as well as the ears and a tail, laughed from behind the lead girl.

“Kitchens, are they okay?” Darwin asked, ignoring the girl’s mockery. “Why do they keep saying ‘nya’?”

Kitchens let out a hearty laugh. “You’ve never encountered a
neko
girl?”

“No, not that I can recall.” Darwin scratched his head.

“Nya, why are you ignoring us?” the male of the group butted in.

“It’s ‘cause he is too shameful to know how to respect his betters,” the lead one said. The other two, the girl behind her and the male who matched the ninja theme and could have been the lead one’s twin, did their ‘nya’ thing again and nodded in agreement.

“I take it you all have some history?”

“You could say that,” Kitchens nodded, “They were my teammates.”

“Nya, don’t remind me!” The back one opened her mouth and put one finger in while making a disgusting face. “You’re so not cool, ne. It was charity letting you join us, nya, but you had to try to pick up that ugly, retarded lynx.”

“I still don’t get the ‘nya’ thing. What is that?”

“They’re trying to be
kawaii
. It’s a thing. Trust me,” Kitchens said before sipping his tea again. His face was calm and unaffected, but Minx’s was visibly tearing up.

Darwin had to admire his patience. Just listening to them talk bad about someone he only knew for a few minutes made him really want to stab them both. If it weren’t for the tournament rules and the fact they were in the middle of a city that probably frowned on PvP killing, he would have done it there and showed them what real charity looked like.

“Nya, so rude!” the lead said abruptly. “Let’s go!” she turned and walked off.

“That was . . . interesting? You put up with them for how long?”

“Only a few days. I probably would still be in their group, but they kept picking on Minxy here because she is, well, Minx,” Kitchens said as he put a hand on the top of Minx’s head, “and I figured we’d be better off without them. I don’t pay for this game to watch the people close to me get bullied.”

Minx nuzzled her head into Kitchens’ hand happily, her smile returning as she let out a mini purr.

-----------

              “Blue Contestants! Please make your way to the tournament square two and sit in the fighters’ section!” the lady who had brought them tea yelled, somehow louder than a megaphone, with both hands cupped around her mouth to amplify the sound.

              “That’s us,” Kitchens said as he stood up.

              Darwin followed Kitchens to the arena with Minx trailing behind him quietly. By the time they got there, the first two rows were filled up, but they were able to scale the stairs and steal some spots on the third row before it filled up too. Looking around, Darwin saw that between the four arenas there were almost a hundred contestants. Each arena was a simple dirt floor with bleachers eight rows deep on each side of it. The contestants entering were only populating the first five rows on one side. The rest seemed to be just citizens eating popcorn and other snacks while they waited for the show to begin.

              “The rules are simple,” the announcer began to shout from the center of the dirt square, “Six people enter; only three people leave. Anything you can think of is allowed. Anything you can do to hurt your opponent is encouraged.”

             
Thunder Dome much?
Darwin thought until he realized what that meant.
If I don’t win . .
.

              “Hey, relax. It’s just a game. What’s the worst that can happen? We lose?” Kitchens said, noticing Darwin’s paling face.

              “Yeah, it’s just a game . . .” He found himself saying for the second time today.

              “By the way, I never got your name.”

              “Darwin.”

              “Darwin, I’m Kitchens. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.

              “Likewise.”

              “I’d wish you luck in the tournament, but that would be too self-serving, wouldn’t it?”

              “I wouldn’t complain,” Darwin said, looking over at Minx, who was still sitting there quietly. Apparently the
neko
ninjas had shaken her up a bit. She was acting completely different from when he first met her. It was like she had been a kid hopped up on sugar when they met, and now she was post-crash.

              They sat quietly in the stands, Darwin painfully aware of the look on Minx’s face, until the first group was called down to the floor. It was the a group of staff-wielding monkey-men of a Simian Race with the team name ‘Sun Wukong’s Children’ versus a team of three lizard-men of the Reptilian Race with the standard sword-and-board approach called ‘Unmade Boots.’ The fight wasn’t anything noteworthy. The three pairs of unmade snakeskin boots hugged each other shoulder to shoulder with shields raised, and the Simians danced over them and used their mobility to completely shatter the formation. The only noteworthy part of the whole fight was when one of the monkey-men wrapped his tail around the eyes of his opponent as he pole vaulted over his foe and yanked the lizard onto his back, only to be swept off his feet by one of the other Reptilians turning as he battled the monkey-man’s comrade. It was entirely accidental, but it at least gave the fight some semblance of not being entirely one-sided.

              “Congratulations, Sun Wukong’s Children!” the announcer said after less than a minute of fighting. The whole display was rather sad for the poor unmade boots, especially the way in which they were finished off with a staff crushing their skulls.

             
I wonder how offended they would be if their bodies went towards making purses instead of boots?
Darwin wondered as the corpses were dragged out of the arena to some unknown location in the back,
or even worse, snakeskin underwear for some really gross, sweaty guy.

              “Next up: Kitchens, Darwin and Minx versus The Three Musketeers!” the announcer called as soon as the previous contestants were clear of the battleground.

              “We don’t have a team name?” Darwin asked as he made his way down.

              “I couldn’t think of a good one,” Kitchens shrugged.

              “Not even something random? Like Mixed Nuts? Buy two get one free? Fruit Ninjas? Five Dollar Footlongs?

              “Those all sound food-related . . . and you’re carrying spoons? Should we be concerned?”

              “I just haven’t eaten in a while.”

              “Do you need to log off between the matches and grab a quick snack?”

              “It wouldn’t help,” Darwin sighed. The idea of eating real life food like Doritos was appealing, but sadly impossible.

              “Ha, no ramen left over? I’ve been there. Rent is a pain sometimes,” Kitchens said, his insistence on a tank top instead of something more fashionable making much more sense now, not that Darwin had any room to judge.

              “Actually, what’s up with the tank top?” he said, questioning Kitchens’ Street Fighter-esque apparel.

              “Oh? It gets hot where I’m from. I find them comfortable,” he said and shrugged again as the three lined up across from The Three Musketeers, who turned out to just be three tiger-men of the Panthera Race in an all-blue armor set brandishing rapiers.

              “Hmm. Don’t you need real armor in case you get hit?”              

              “I’ll worry about that when it happens.” His shrug was becoming trademarkable.

“I guess that confidence is good news for me,” Darwin smiled. He couldn’t help but be curious about how good of a swordsman this Kitchens character actually was.

“Nah, we’ve already gotten into the tournament. If you die, that’s your problem,” he laughed, pulling his katana out and holding it in front of him with both hands. He closed his eyes and grinned ear to ear. “Have fun.”

The announcer backed up slowly from the ring and started counting down the fight. “Three, two, one, FIGHT!” she said, and before the word was even finished, one of the Musketeers lunged at Darwin with a rapier.

Darwin backed up a step and parried the thrust with one of his Burriza’s as if he were trying to stop one of Alex’s attacks with his spoons. He then started to follow it up with a lunge of his own using his free weapon when he felt his heart start pounding again.
Hunger,
he cursed. His vision painted over with red for a minute. As the red tint faded, he found himself holding a tiger-man’s head--though not the one that was attacking him--in one hand and one of his blades in the other. Even though he had been the one to do it, he experienced the whole thing after the fact like a kid watching an old movie rather than actually living it himself.

He had finished the lunge against the Panthera who had attacked him, nailing him square in the chest with one stab after another in rapid succession until the cavity was wide open. Then, he dashed at the remaining one who was fighting Minx. The tiger-man had been doing everything in his power just to stop Minx’s daggers when Darwin closed in on him. He raised his rapier up to stop the charge, ignoring Minx, who had taken a step back as Darwin narrowed the gap. When Darwin finally made contact, he angled both his swords and brought them down in a rapid parry combination, pulling with the opponent’s right blade just far enough with his own left-hand sword so that the follow up with his right blade could peal through the enemy’s arm, ripping the hand off and leaving it as an odd, twisted stump. Before the enemy could scream, Darwin dropped the Burriza’s Blade in his left hand, reached out and grabbed the tiger’s thick neck fur and severed his head with the remaining blade in his right, leaving him standing above a corpse holding a Panthera’s head in one hand and a blood-dripping sword in the other.