“Might as well take a seat,” Violet patted the stool next to her. “These things aren’t going to drink themselves.”
Zedd moved closer to the bar, but didn’t take a seat. “Of course not,” he replied gruffly, folding his thick arms across his equally thick chest. It was then Violet took a closer look at her new partner. How had she been so oblivious to his…uniqueness? He seemed skinless, a being of muscle and armored with thick metal plates and tubes snaking strategically around his body. It was obscene and defied logic. Literally a man with no flesh at all, but still walked and talked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Did he always go around with that visor? Did he have lips? A mouth?
“Do you drink?” she asked cautiously, swirling her newly filled glass around in her hand, taking small pleasure in the ice tinkling against the edges. She felt a little silly asking, but it was worth a shot. She didn’t want to be the only one getting shitfaced tonight.
He looked at her, or at least she assumed he was looking at her. Kind of hard to tell with the visor. “I’ll take that as a no,” she sighed, and turned her body away from him. Her gaze lifted towards one of the dozens of monitors above that flashed rankings and various talking heads. When the power rankings appeared, she scoffed. “Guess 16 is better than 38, cheeky bastards.”
“What do they mean, how’s my head?” Zedd grumped, leaning against the bar.
“I would guess the fuckin giant ass visor,” Violet snarked. “That thing is going to get us killed, you know.”
“What, my face?”
“All of it. The visor, the metal…that ridiculous thing hanging off your face,” she pointed to the decoration that jutted like a giant metal horn off his forehead. “If we’re going to have a shot in this game, we’re going to have to make some modifications.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my appearance.”
Smacking her lips indignantly, Violet sipped what had to be her tenth drink that night. She was definitely feeling it and the courage it lent her to speak so boldly to some stranger like Zedd. Vi absolutely refused to refer to him as “Lord” anything. “This partner shit is stupid.”
“Agreed.”
“Fantastic that you agree,” she retorted somewhat amusedly. “At least we understand where we sit in regards to this...farce.”
“I plan on winning,” Zedd growled. “With or without you, it makes no matter. You’re a tool to be wielded to my will.”
“A proper tool acts ONLY when the master gives a command. You will understand this in time, or you will continue to suffer.” Diablo’s words echoed through her mind, sharp as a knife across her brain. Her hand clenched, crushing the glass between her fingers. She didn’t even feel the shards cutting into her skin, or the blood that welled up immediately in their wake. Rage bubbled within her, her skin glowing red as her power surged beneath. Sparks of electricity danced across her caramel flesh.
“I am not your tool.” She turned her face slowly towards him, the light from her eyes reflecting off the metal on his chest. “I am nobody’s tool.” Swiping her hand across the bar, the bits of glass scattering to the ground, Violet slid from the seat and stood in front of her new partner. “We are equals, or we are nothing. Only one thing is more important in this competition than a victory, and that is finding Victor Wolfe.”
“I saw his name on the screen. Who is he to you?”
“The fucker that sent me to Hell.”
Zedd moved closer to the bar, but didn’t take a seat. “Of course not,” he replied gruffly, folding his thick arms across his equally thick chest. It was then Violet took a closer look at her new partner. How had she been so oblivious to his…uniqueness? He seemed skinless, a being of muscle and armored with thick metal plates and tubes snaking strategically around his body. It was obscene and defied logic. Literally a man with no flesh at all, but still walked and talked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Did he always go around with that visor? Did he have lips? A mouth?
“Do you drink?” she asked cautiously, swirling her newly filled glass around in her hand, taking small pleasure in the ice tinkling against the edges. She felt a little silly asking, but it was worth a shot. She didn’t want to be the only one getting shitfaced tonight.
He looked at her, or at least she assumed he was looking at her. Kind of hard to tell with the visor. “I’ll take that as a no,” she sighed, and turned her body away from him. Her gaze lifted towards one of the dozens of monitors above that flashed rankings and various talking heads. When the power rankings appeared, she scoffed. “Guess 16 is better than 38, cheeky bastards.”
“What do they mean, how’s my head?” Zedd grumped, leaning against the bar.
“I would guess the fuckin giant ass visor,” Violet snarked. “That thing is going to get us killed, you know.”
“What, my face?”
“All of it. The visor, the metal…that ridiculous thing hanging off your face,” she pointed to the decoration that jutted like a giant metal horn off his forehead. “If we’re going to have a shot in this game, we’re going to have to make some modifications.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my appearance.”
Smacking her lips indignantly, Violet sipped what had to be her tenth drink that night. She was definitely feeling it and the courage it lent her to speak so boldly to some stranger like Zedd. Vi absolutely refused to refer to him as “Lord” anything. “This partner shit is stupid.”
“Agreed.”
“Fantastic that you agree,” she retorted somewhat amusedly. “At least we understand where we sit in regards to this...farce.”
“I plan on winning,” Zedd growled. “With or without you, it makes no matter. You’re a tool to be wielded to my will.”
“A proper tool acts ONLY when the master gives a command. You will understand this in time, or you will continue to suffer.” Diablo’s words echoed through her mind, sharp as a knife across her brain. Her hand clenched, crushing the glass between her fingers. She didn’t even feel the shards cutting into her skin, or the blood that welled up immediately in their wake. Rage bubbled within her, her skin glowing red as her power surged beneath. Sparks of electricity danced across her caramel flesh.
“I am not your tool.” She turned her face slowly towards him, the light from her eyes reflecting off the metal on his chest. “I am nobody’s tool.” Swiping her hand across the bar, the bits of glass scattering to the ground, Violet slid from the seat and stood in front of her new partner. “We are equals, or we are nothing. Only one thing is more important in this competition than a victory, and that is finding Victor Wolfe.”
“I saw his name on the screen. Who is he to you?”
“The fucker that sent me to Hell.”
![[Image: visig2018.png]](http://epiqz.com/mysigs/visig2018.png)