It'll Leave You Breathless, Or With A Nasty Scar (Quinn)

The shimmering white limousine that turned into the star studded hotel absolutely glowed in the Floridian heat. Normal, judges were to arrive in a standard black vehicle as custom dictated, and while the occupant of the sparkling limo did believe in traditions, sometimes, one simply had to deviate. Which was why the occupant of the showstopping car was where she was. Gloved hands reached to open the doors and out stepped a bare, heeled leg, followed by another and then by the slender, tall frame of the redhead more commonly known as Adelaide Goshawk.  

Contrasting with the car,the lady emerging from it was dressed in a muted color, the brightest hue about her being her flaming red hair, laid loose over one shoulder and eerily unaffected by the dry wind or heat they were exposed to. It was not the first mysterious thing about ehr and it would not be the last.

While across the pond, the Goshawk name was prominent enough, Adelaide and her husband were shrouded in mystery in the United States, a place where they had been trying to get a foothold for some time now. An opportunity had presented itself in the form of one Bocephus Miller at the right time and as a result, here she was, a judge in a pretentiously distracting tournament in Orlando. Her expertise were listed under "intentional outreach" meaning any dueler worth his or her salt would know she required neither the technical expertise nor the theoretical knowledge to judge them.

They would also know she was here on someone else's behest, and that someone must have a lot of sway.

Truthfully, Adelaide had never taken Bo was as someone well connected. The man certainly went out of his way to loo like a rather well fed chimney. Bu that was the brilliance of it, she assumed. Trips to his ranch in the countryside had revealed a lot more about him, and a lot more about her.

Among the few who could travel in and out of America freely these days, Bo was one of them.

Adelaide was another.

An official submission of a leave for mental health reasons was easy enough to obtain and then leak to the media, culminating in a second  statement begging the First Lady be afforded her privacy as she left for her retreat. A few stops around Europe later, Adelaide had landed in America refreshed and ready for what lay ahead.

Which today was a pregame celebration to highlight all the duelists that had made it this far.

Tonight, it was the competitors' time to shine, make contacts, accumulate sponsors and even perhaps catch the eye of a recruiter or two.All the while being covered life by all major networks to create a distract the size of the Superbowl. The logic was sound, big events always diverted public attention from what really mattered.

The redhead, thankfully, was not as easily distracted as she made her way to the grand ballroom. Almost immediately, a waiter descended upon her with a preferred drink, one Adelaide took for mere decoration than to actually sip. The other judges were already there, she had been the second last to arrive.

Taking her place in the balcony, the redhead made polite conversation with the others as various competitors approached them, keeping a glittering green eye out for the one who had been of particular interest to Bo...

These types of things despite what many would think.....were not Quinn's favorite affairs.  Mostly because it tainted what a party really was.  A party was getting drunk, finding a pretty girl....and well recreating a very specific term of the Shakespearian era.  These things  though....you did that and you found yourselves disqualified from tournaments.....*sigh* 2019 French Fury invitational, never forget...…

This was a kind of social dueling one that Quinn could keep up with on a one on one basis, but in a large group like this cared very little for.  He was already well within the hall when the judges started to arrive, the pompous play-actors of import.  As for Quinn, he had barely even deemed to put on a suit. The pants and jacket were of fine quality of course, but after trying on the dress shirt and vest he'd felt to confined. instead he simply wore what was little more than an open T-shirt that matched the jacket only because they were both descendants of the color blue. Around his neck was a simple leather strap that contained on the end a fang that bounced against his chest. One that of a Wampus cat, the house of Ilvermony he himself had selected, no thanks to the daft sorting ceremony. In hand was a beer still in the can, that he'd had to pay off the bartender to get....the remaining 5 still on a ring now hidden behind a potted plant for later coming and goings.

Moving through the crowd he made polite conversation on and off again with various competitors, sponsors, and others who had scored a ticket. He'd been promised one of the biggest tournaments the country had ever seen, and at the end the "new" American champion would be named. he used the term "new" loosely because he had no intention of giving up the title. A shaky European start couldn't be changed, but on US soil he was still the champion 6 years later. Another year and he would hit the magic number 7, an accomplishment that none before him had ever made. the 6th year was seen as a curse, one that he was looking to break.

The majority of the crowd was American since the country wide orders, but there were a few exceptions. A couple high profile guests, the few duelists who had decided to risk career over it all, including Logan and Mpho awkwardly moving about, and a couple he couldn't place. At all of their backs however, was the largest security detail he'd ever seen for a simple dueling meet and greet. Their posh suits almost making them appear as guests, but magical glasses to let them see clearer than those under the haze of alcohol rarely stopped moving through the hall.

All of these were quick observations from someone who professionally fought other professional fighters for a living, and wasn't to bad at it if he said so himself, and he did. As for his part, buddying up with sponsors wasn't his priority, championships made them come to you, so instead he reverted to an old stand by. Find the drunkest to prettiest girl in the room, following a very careful ratio, bump into them, and begin talking...…"The names King, Quinn king." He'd say a moment later, "I am so sorry I didn't see you, please let me buy you another drink, least I can do." he'd flash a white smile to the short blonde witch, and that is where he could be seen at the moment. Chatting away, frivolously, against a different kind of opponent, in a different type of duel.

This type of charade of a pick up was a low brow kind. One that was more at home in stories than practice, but I couldn't help it. These drab affairs always presented opportunities such as these, and it had been a bit lonely since my return to the States. Sure Mpho and Logan where pretty enough.....despite my best efforts. Still they lacked a womanly touch, and so it would seem I would as well.

The tall man approached from the side, I only got a brief look out of the peripherals before he spoke, but it was enough. Tall, nice suit, forced smile, I bet he didn't even want to be here. Surely some junior secretary for one of the sponsorship companies, or perhaps even worse....a politician. Still, it was a party and the dueling on a more social scale had already begun. This would simply be one more obstacle. Turning slightly I'd give him a rather coy smile and a wink as I spoke. "Sorry I don't think your my type." I'd reach out as if for a handshake, but in a quick flick of the rest that only dueling practice could grant you, I'd rather gently punched him in the stomach. Enough to perhaps cause a startle, but hardly anything beyond that. "Well you do workout, so maybe if you put down that imitator of a drink and sweet talk me, we could come to an arrangement." I'd laugh at my own joke, a forced affair. it wasn't for my own ego, or his amusement. He may be in the crosshairs, but I was still more interested in the blonde behind me that found it much funnier than it had been. Inwardly I sighed, perhaps low hanging fruit wasn't worth picking.

"Names Quinn partner, as long as you ain't here to sell me something or get me to sell it for you, I'd be happy to know yours." Repositioning my hand, I left it there for a true shake this time. As introductions would take place the same young waiter he'd bribed for the Budweiser would appear at his shoulder.

"umm sir......its ummmm, here....." he'd say rather sheepishly. As if he'd done something wrong, poor boy. It wasn't his fault this place only served fancy feast, something unlike the rest of these mewing fat cats Quinn would not waist his time on.

"Jackson.." Assuming Jackson had given his name, "You seem like a smart man, and a man of taste." I had judged him in this way by his flippant dismissal of every attempt to feed him tiny sandwiches pastes of unimaginable origins, "Would you care to see something truly special?" I'd wait for a response, either way I was going, the man could damn do as he well pleased. Turning I'd face the girl and lean in. Whispering a couple sweet words to low for Jackson to hear, I would then slip a room key into her bag that only a keen eye would be able to perceive. I pulled back, offered the faintest of winks, and made about my business elsewhere.

I didn't bother to check and see if Jackson was following, but that was really that man's decision now wasn't it? Navigating the crowd quicker than one would expect, I continued to expertly dodge all forms of conversation as if they were hexes being flung. Through the crowd, back to a potted plant, and another can liberated from the ring, it was the freedom fighter in me I swear. if Jackson followed he'd surely witness this. The serving boy was back, and with a rather sketchy look handed over the large box I had instructed him to get.Dancing patterns and runes spread across the top, the muggle words vanishing to be replaced with a p

Taking it gingerly, I would turn, to face either Jackson or the room. Only for a second its true nature would be revealed......a box that very clearly read "Pizza Hut" a muggle fast food attraction. Fiddling in my pocket for a moment my fingers graced against the soft wood of my wand. Soon the name would begin to change merging pizza and wizardry together. Sparkling runes, and a clever name that I'd thought of on the spot....not bad I thought, looked convincing enough Giving Jackson a wink (Honestly I needed to slow down with the winking, the quota was almost used up), before walking past and setting it down on an empty table. Another touch from inside my pocket, and 4 stools would materialize at what had been a standing table. At the same time the pizza seemed to enlarge, the engorgement charm making it a more fitting meal.

As if on cue two more individuals showed up. One looked more akin to a lumberjack, the former Canadian Champion Logan, a large glass of champagne in hand. The second arrival was a mountain of a man, who despite Jackson's own height was dwarfed by comparison. The Continental African Champion Mpho with a large glass of dark beer sat upon the stool that seemed to groan beneath. I'd given it an extra strong foundation, but some things where hard to keep up with.....Mpho's girth a prime example.

if one was truly keen of sight and crowd reading (Such as myself) one might assume this was very improper and out of place. However, as that keen observer would then note (Again, such as myself), the majority of the folks around us, those that often attended such dueling affairs, would simply glance, roll their eyes in a dismissive sort of way, and go about their business. As if this was a common affair, and I'm here to tell you.....it was. We pulled this stunt at most of these so called parties, honestly it was the only way to get a decent meal. I looked back seeing Jackson, "Well come on then, this is the start of a free for all, and Mpho is libel to free all the food for himself." Looking up I saw Mpho already having eaten two slices, his look of innocence difficult to pull off on such a monster of a man......but he didn't do a half bad job. As for me, I wasn't going to wait if the man behind wanted to starve, I'd take a piece and begin to eat myself.

Watching Jackson I gave a smirk between bites. I'd had some doubts about the man, but what can I say....I'm a sucker for a man who knows the one bite rule. Call me a man of taste. Clearly he had an unhealthy love of the stuff, which I could respect and appreciate. The man also wasn't half bad at idle chatter, but no doubt he'd cut his teeth on that more than once being a politician. Though, the benefit of the slices of pizza appeared to bring out a more....genuine feel than was normally the case, or at least these were my suspicions.

For a couple moments we made idle chatter. I introduced the other two with me, and their various titles. All the while my eyes scanning the crowd. I enjoyed the table, but still I can't help myself. Call it a nervous twitch, but taking in the room is something I can't avoid. That bird of a letter had made me a bit nervous, and now being greeted by a politician, well...….they didn't have to be related, but there was no reason they weren't either.

The man's question showed that he at least had paid attention. As for myself, I'd hardly even scanned the would be playbill. Every dueling tournament offered different challenges. Some fancied themselves almost more like obstacle courses than actual dueling anymore. Each one trying to one up the last, with ever more inventive tactics and challenges. One on one dueling was beginning to go out of fashion anymore, though at the very least this tournament promised such a thing for those still standing after the early rounds. Swallowing a bite and tipping back the beer until it was finished, I cleared my throat. Quickly the still ashamed boy came by swapping out the empty can for a new one, under the stern eye of his manager. Honestly, I couldn't see what the big deal was.

"Could be, just depends I suppose." I would say cracking open the next can with a satisfying hiss. "Depends on the styles I suppose. How well a group meshes up." That much was true. Some duelists had styles that complimented any partner, while others struggled under such circumstances.
"Take Mpho here...." Wadding up a napkin I'd give it a toss to hit the big man between the eyes. Causing him to look up, mouth to bursting. "He's a big bloke, so any teammate would do. They'd just stand behind him and get points for stealth, give him a hard push and squash their opponents under that gut." Giving a smile and a wink, I was impressed with how quickly Mpho was able to swallow the meal. I was half concerned he'd choke, but he managed it all right.....to bad really that could have honestly helped my chances.

Standing to his feet Mpho would glower back, his thick African accent infused in each word, I won't try to imitate this...you'll just have to use your imagination. "My gut, ha, this is a finely tuned machine." As if on cue I'd watch as he raised his arms and flexed. It must have been a clever charm worked on his suit, because as he did the entire thing ripped to shreds as though in some kids cartoon. Barrell chested, and arms thick as tree trunks he struck an impressive pose. Veins shot through his forearms like steel cables across beams. I could almost spot an abb hidden in there, that was until I sent forth a tickling charm to break the mood. Putting his arms down and laughing his gut stuck out, aided by the massive amount of meat and cheese he'd consumed.

"yes yes, put it away, you'll make the girls feint from an excess of sexual energy." I gave him a solid eye roll. For his own part, he did sit, the charm over his clothes working again as the tattered apparel slide and slithered back overtop of him reforming into an appropriate dress attire. "How many tournaments in a row are you going to use that gag?"

"if it works" He'd say with a shrug before reaching for another slice.

Turning back to Jackson, putting up a hand so I could block the view of Mpho I'd return to answering his original question. "Typically we don't worry to much about that. Some do, look at them scattering around, trying to find allies early." Pointing I'd show several of the other duelists in little huddles exchanging pleasantries and compliments. All fake of course, there were no friendships here, only shaky alliances. Well, except at my table of course, we'd transcended such things....we were men of sophistication! Don't believe me? Well you are entitled to your opinion, even if its wrong.

"That's just one part. Some people try to win every round, but honestly I couldn't care less about such things. A half way decent seed for the final and viola, I'd rather pump the breaks and take it easy early on." That much was true. Despite being, if I do say so myself, A successful duelist with 6 years as the United States Champion I actually held very few "wins" in terms of rounds. in fact it was one of those statistics that those following the sport liked to bring up. Some would say I had the least amount of round wins and yet held the title of champion. You can't trust numbers though, they have a tendency to lie.

Logan popped in with his own views controversial though they might be, but honestly....I've already told you everything you need to know haven't I? You want more info? Well, you better go listen to Logan's story then, I am quite ready to move on.

I gave a genuine laugh at his mention of Bo. "That big dumb redneck. He grew up more a no maj than even myself. Done well for himself though." My face showed a geniality about it. However, inwardly the name drop turned a corner on my opinion of the man. Bo was my friend you see, but I had no hesitations of what he did and where his loyalties were. it was people above him that had surely sent that purple raven, and friend or not...….I wasn't sure if getting involved with him at the present climate was the right move. We are both fighters you see, but he's a soldier and I am an athlete. Not the same thing at all. I eyed Jackson with a different lens now. "He's just mad he could never take me." Giving him a wink, I'd take another drink, "How do you know the bearded giant?"

That sounded like Bo alright if the politicians story was to be believed. I wasn't quite sure just yet how to take him. The Wisconsin politician seemed......well respectable. Exactly the kind of politician that was best to be avoided. I have always believed those people who reveled themselves to be a little dirty could be trusted more. At least you knew what they were all about. The squeaky clean ones though, you could never tell what they were up to.

Our departure was met with little more than a grunt and an inquiry about the next round. Honestly, good friends where so hard to find, they could have at least pretended they'd miss me. Getting up, we cut our way through the crowd. Only slightly hindered by the coming and goings of others in suits. I think I even signed something, at least that's what I hoped they'd reached out.....otherwise surely I'd lost a sponsor.

Looking up I spotted a shot of red hair, and the woman beneath was clearly the cannon. It didn't take a good eye to see the woman at the very least thought herself something special. I wasn't sure if I was looking at a person or an excerpt from a dictionary on "aristocrat". It was the way she moved, the tinkeling of a false laugh......the way none of it quite met her eyes. Now here was a person you could trust...…..well I mean, trust them to always be up to something. At least you knew what you were dealing with.

The senator had promised a look at Bo's flame, and even preceded to tell me she had spent a lot of time at his ranch. I'd never known Bo to be much of a lady's man (at least a lot less than he thought of himself), but like many a southern gentleman he had a certain, uncouth charm about him. He was another one, hidden beneath the manners and tobacco was a man who plotted and planned. His accent and mannerisms made people loose their nerve somehow. How on Earth could this dumb redneck cause me harm, obviously he's just come from the farm smelling of goat...….yes I am sure a lot of very smart men thought that....right before they got a spell in the back and Bo got another medal on his vest.

The idea of this foreign dignitary though was a little disconcerting. If it wasn't an American politician, now I was forced to deal with a foreign one. I knew exactly who the woman was, but no need to let Jackson know that. I'd never met her, so little fear of such a secret moving out, but still I'd spent some time in Europe after all. It wasn't concerning that there were judges who knew little of the intricacies of the sport, that was basically a requirement. It was that she was here at all, moving about pleasant as you please. Mpho and Logan both were risking a great deal to be here, and no doubt they'd get their own little birds in due time. I doubted she was going to face a similar situation, and no doubt she was here for her own games, and undoubtedly she was good at playing them. her relationship with Bo well...….Bo must be deep into the game indeed.

Before I knew it we'd crossed the rest of the way and where practically touching elbows with the second judge in a short time I'd be forced to converse with. Don't get me wrong, Jackson wasn't all bad so far, but still....a politician. "I'll let you do the introductions, I'm just a competitor sadly." I'd say with a delicate smile holding out the empty beer can only to have it replaced. This time however with the empty can I slipped some cash in exchange. The boy had done good work, and it would surely lighten any scathing remarks he'd earned from his boss. The boy would bound away, a little perked up from before I was glad to see.

It was about this time that Jackson should be getting us out introductions. I rolled through my mind how to play the introduction, cocky American? A go to for sure with foreigners.....a humble champion, doubtful only useful when trying to bed someone....not that I'd say no mind you......Perhaps a drunken fool? well that would end the conversation sooner.....in the end I decided to see how she spoke first and paly it from there. Properly tipsy, I was having as much fun as one can in a situation like this. Besides I was picturing her and Bo doing a different kind of line dance.....and I must say it amused me.

"And would you believe it, the poor bastard actually went and attacked the clone," the portly man chuckled, encouraging a round of polite laughter at a story from the seventies when he used to duel professionally. There were five judges in total attending and presiding over this esteemed tournament. Adelaide was one, the young politician on the other side of the room was another. This snowy haired man with a rose on his lapel was a third. In his sixties easily, he was reliving his dueling days as if they had been a week ago, hijacking the conversation completely.

"Old Millstone and I had a proper victory party after that duel. And I wouldn't wish to offend any ladies but there were plenty present at the party," he winked, forcing Adelaide to flash another cold smile his way. If there was such a thing as unrefined, the Americans had perfected it to an art. She had been standing on he balcony for close to an hour,not only because it was where the action was but because it afforded ehr a good vantage point for what she sought. And what she sought hadn't been difficult to spot from the get go.

The small table of champions indulging in what was decidedly not on the menu had cough many eyes, but their position had held criticism at bay, at least openly. Adelaide was used to seeing this. the more privileged someone was, the more eccentricities they could get away with. In this case had the table not been occupied by three champions and a senator, it would most likely have been broken up within a few minutes of its erection.

the people on that table didn't seem anything special to the redhead though, not at all what she had been expecting. Far from well mannered gentleman versed in the art of dueling, she found a drunk, a flirt and a giant defending their titles. Still, there might be more than met the eye.

It was a lesson she had learned well with eon Bocephus Miller.

And more there was as the table diapered, or a last some of its participants took their leave. From the corner of her eye, the Irish witch spotted senator Blake's tall figure cutting through the crowd, dwarfing the American Champion's already lacking height as he followed. The woman found herself wondering what they had been talking about but had to curb her train of thoughts when the portly man beside her queued up another joke for a round of laughs.

One that was mercifully broken when Jackson walked up to the balcony to greet everyone.

"Lady, gentleman, may I present the American champion six times running, Quinn King." The group as a whole tittered in welcome, the old duelist knocking King on the back and reminding him how he too was one champion.

"I think you'd know everyone here, except Adelaide of course," Jackson continued. "She has honored us all with her presence today, Mrs. Adelaide Goshawk."

"The pleasure's all mine, Senator Blake, I've been a fan of Mr. King's work for quite some time." Not necessarily true but she had watched a few fights, and had been grudgingly impressed. He was talented despite his low win rate. "In fact, I believe I caught one of your duels lives, a few years ago in Italy..." Adelaide didn't mention that he had not performed at his best in that particular tournament, King would know which one she meant.

"Are you looking forwards to this one? I hear the bookies are being unnecessarily rude to your odds this time around."

I felt the rough slap on the back, and very nearly spilt my drink. Looking around the crowd, Jackson had been right. He did know everyone in the semi-circle, with the exception of one Goshawk. Still, it wouldn't do to act any other way than comfortable. Recovering a decent posture I'd smile back winking towards the older duelist. He wasn't wrong, he had been champion......a very long time ago. Back then there hadn't even been all the frivolous challenges and games they made us play now. Drawing a comparison to the sport and its 30 year senior almost wasn't fair. Something that the older duelists hated to hear mind you, and something I wasn't keen to point out just yet. After all, pissing off to many judges is never a good thing.

Clearing my throat I'd give the older man a response, "You held the title for the 6 year curse to if I remember right, aye Henry?" I emphasized the word "to" just to remind him that presently we were on equal foots. I had read about, and even seen some of the older mans past duels (It is little known that in the major dueling clubs they pay top dollars for older witches and wizards to come by and sell memories of these matches. It is in this way that they can collect information, and even memories of past duels. So that they can be watched and studied again and again. The more elite the dueling club the more memories it holds. A bit unfair to the smaller ones, but hey that's sports for you.) The fellow would bumble through a statement making himself sound quite the soldier, before the conversation seemed to move on.

I'd give it to Jackson in this way, he knew how to talk. An occupational hazard I assume. Though as soon as this thought chugged through the station of my mind, it was blown up, covered by an avalanche, and long forgotten by the words of the foreigner. Jackson had been good, but this lady had clearly been good and polished off. Every word was said as a compliment, simply to hide the back sting of it. He'd heard folks talk like this before, specifically about his records.

"Italy was fun. Second place isn't all bad, given my rough road in Europe, I was pleased to take it. Besides despite a second place, I still walked away with the bigger prize" I'd finish this with a smile and wink. It had been a great deal of annoyance not to simply win outright. A controversial finish, but still that was the way the wand broke sometimes. I wasn't lying though. It had been widely published how even though I drew second place, my final winnings dwarfed that of my competitor. Some lucky bets, and better sponsors saw to that, along with the final point tallies.

Sports nuts are always so focused on first place finishes and only first place finishes. I imagine that's why my record bothered them so much. Yet, I always believed a solid second or third place, and only taking first when it really counted was the way to go. Minimum effort, maximum reward and all that. Not to mention it was easier on the body. I took a drink as she asked her next question. A rather boring question, if not an expected one.

"I'm looking forward to winning. This is the last real sanctioned tournament of the year. A first place here, and I hit year 7. First one to do it, even above old Henry here." I'd give the older wizard an elbow to the gut affectionately. I actually liked Henry, sure he was old and had a tendency to do nothing but tell old war stories, but still couldn't shame a man for remembering glory days. "I don't worry to much about the bets. The more they bet against me, the more money I make for my fans when I win." Another coy smile. I wasn't to worried about her words, and if I had to guess there would be several more back handed compliments before the interaction as over. Yet, things would all work out. After all, the women was inconsequential to him. It was with that exact thought I asked my next question, one towards her. "Jackson tells me we have a common friend Adelaide." (I couldn't resist just using her first name. The introductions had shown she was a Mr. and Mrs. type of person as many posh pomps where. Ignoring this always gave me some pleasure at these things. its a small thing, but life is about enjoying the small things after all) "Has he taught you to line dance yet? Or had you sampling rocky mountain oysters?" I'd smile the same coy and calm way I had since walking up.

I doubted the others here would catch my innuendos, and in fact I maintained an innocent way of talking just to be sure. Jackson might have picked up on it, but surely it would amuse him.....probably. She would just be able to get out half an answer before a loud voice cut through the hall.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE NEXT ROOM, IT IS THERE WE SHALL BEGIN THE FIRST TOURNAMENT DRAW, FOLLOWED BY SUPPER AND FINALLY THE EXCEBITION CONTEST THAT ANY WHO WISH TO PARTICIPATE IN CAN.....FOR A NOMINAL FEE TO CHARITY OF COURSE"

A smattering of applause, and the penguins made their march. Soon the pressing of the crowd would see our group moving towards the hall where a large projector screen had been constructed. I followed, sticking between Jackson and Adelaide. It seemed like the fun spot to be...for the moment.