Chapter 106: Spy Games Ch. 27
Another shitty end to another shitty day on the shittiest trash heap of a planet in the entire galaxy. Putting her ship in park, Scrapper One-Four-Two snarls as she reaches out and snatches up the singular bottle of booze she was able to get for the day's work. Turned out that her big hulking wolf wasn't nearly as valuable as she'd hoped. This grog she'd managed to grab was the most she could get for the night.
With this much, the disgraced Asgardian Valkyrie would be lucky to even be tipsy by the end of the night. Which meant she'd be distressingly sober tomorrow morning when she had to go out searching for more shit to bring back all over again. Irritating, to say the least.
Still, with her ship parked in its usual spot on an upper edge of the bowl-shaped arena, the Scrapper moves over and lowers the back ramp, sitting on the edge of it and dangling her feet off as she listens to the Announcer cry out down below. Some bullshit about how the Grandmaster's current Champion was so unmatched and what not that they didn't even have any worthy competitors for him to fight tonight, meaning it was another exhibition night.
She didn't know why the Announcer bothered to sugar coat it. Probably to save his own neck from an irate Grandmaster. As much as the Ruler of Sakaar went out of his way to pay exorbitant sums to anyone who could procure unique and interesting individuals to go up against his current Champion in blood sport, quality was of vanishing scarcity here on Sakaar.
Which meant it was an exhibition match most nights. The Grandmaster's current Champion, a hulking fucker who used a flame scythe to great effect, would go up against collections of slaves and monsters to prove his continued strength, rarely leaving any of them alive. Not that she should really be complaining. The Champion's deadly style caused a need for a constant influx of new creatures and beings for him to fight, which was how her and other Scrappers made their livings and how she in particular paid for her booze.
Tonight was almost certainly going to be no different. The wolf that she'd turned over to the Beast Masters would likely be among the myriad of creatures sent out to face off against the Grandmaster's Champion. Heck, maybe if it gave a good enough showing before going down, she could go and argue that she was owed more credits then the paltry sum she'd been paid for it.
Although, as the battle down below gets underway, she's soon given cause to doubt such a thing. As expected, her wolf is indeed among the beasties and monsters that are sent out in droves to fight the Grandmaster's Champion. Around the middle of the pack in terms of size, the problem is… the thing looks damn woozy as it totters out into the arena.
Sure, it'd still been unconscious when she'd dropped it off, but surely by now it'd been woken up and primed for combat, right? Although, oddly enough, looking it over with her enhanced Asgardian vision, the disgraced Valkyrie couldn't see a single scorch march she would have expected from the Beast Masters and their electrified prods.
Instead, her wolf's coat looked absolutely pristine as it swayed on its four legs, looking completely and utterly out of it. While some of the more aggressive creatures were already engaging the Champion, his flame scythe slicing through them and turning them to pieces, her wolf was seemingly getting its bearings. It would probably last until the latter half of the match at this point, but not out of any particular strength, just solely by chance.
Or it might not last even that longer. Scrapper One-Four-Two grumbles to herself when she sees a Jotun Frost Beast decide that it was more likely to get a good meal from her wolf then the Champion with the Flame Scythe. Turning away from the ongoing battle in the middle of the arena, the Frost Beast begins lumbering towards her wolf, starting up a charge as it snorts and snarls, its sharp teeth arrayed as its maw spreads nice and wide.
With an iron stomach, Scrapper One-Four-Two doesn't turn away, watching closely instead as her latest catch is about to get munched. Which is why she's one of the only people in the arena to see the wolf's eyes flash a mixture of red, purple, and yellow before it suddenly whips around and takes a massive bite out of the top of the Frost Beast's head instead of the other way around.
The wolf's teeth positively sheer through the bone of the Frost Beast's skull, and it rips to the side, forcing the larger creature and its momentum to go skidding past it as the Frost Beast drops forward on its front legs, skidding to a halt on the arena floor, missing a rather large chunk of its forehead.
Blinking owlishly, the disgraced Asgardian Valkyrie leans forward a little, even as she takes a swig of her booze. That had been… interesting, to say the least. Her wolf still seemed a little off though… but he was definitely getting more active by the moment, his head perking up and darting from side to side as he bares his teeth at the monsters around him.
No others seem inclined to attack him after the dominance display… but it's not like her wolf needs a reason. He's a predator in his own right after all, and after a moment of sizing up the competition, he leaps and strikes, tearing out the throat of another creature.
There's a buzz then from near his neck as the Obedience Disc goes off. Scrapper One-Four-Two narrows her eyes as she watches the wolf jolt from the electric shock. After all, the creatures were supposed to be fighting the Champion, not each other. But then, how were unintelligent beasties supposed to know that?
Shaking its mane, the wolf growls for a moment… and then leaps towards another nearby opponent, only to get shocked again. And yet, if the disgraced Valkyrie didn't know any better, she'd say the Obedience Disc wasn't doing its job properly. While the wolf she'd procured for the night's festivities is clearly feeling it, either it's on an incredibly low setting, or he's made of incredibly heart stock.
She suspects it's the latter, especially as the buzzes get progressively louder and the electricity more and more visible from her high vantage point. Whoever is controlling the Obedience Disc on her wolf's neck is getting desperate. Just what will it take to get the wolf on-
Scrapper One-Four-Two stiffens as a familiar flame scythe carves its way through the wolf's body, the Grandmaster's Champion coming out of nowhere, at least to her senses. She'd been so caught up in watching the wolf struggle for control, so caught up in studying her catch, that she hadn't even seen the harbinger of his death arriving.
To everyone else in the stadium, save for perhaps the relieved controller of the wolf's Obedience Disc, the creature's death is just another in a long string of them. As her wolf falls into two smoking pieces, Scrapper One-Four-Two wonders where her momentary dismay comes from, why she cared even a smidgen about the damnable creature's health.
She should never have cared, frankly. All he was to her was her meal ticket. Nothing more. Stupid beast…
And yet, despite her inner thoughts, the disgraced Valkyrie can't help staring at the wolf's corpse. Which is why she notices one of the two pieces beginning to twitch. Right before her widening eyes, the wolf… regrows the other half of its body, reconstituting itself from what would have been certain death on almost any other creature.
The case of high-speed regeneration goes almost largely unnoticed by everyone else in the arena, even as the wolf slowly pushes itself back to its feet, snarling and shaking its mane much harder than before. Which is how Scrapper One-Four-Two notices the small glint of an Obedience Disc, deactivated by its wearer's temporary death, falling out of the wolf's fur and landing on the floor of the arena.
Oh… shit.
People begin to take notice around the time the wolf throws back its head and lets out a singularly impressive howl. The Grandmaster's Champion whips around and narrows his eyes, spinning his flame scythe through yet another beastie before turning his focus back to the only opponent to survive one of his swings so far that night.
The Announcer, of course, is going absolutely wild but One-Four-Two can't be bothered to pay HIM any mind. A waste of space and words, that one. Instead, she's focused entirely on the wolf, on her wolf, as it begins to bound towards the Champion of the Arena, snarling and even glowing. Wait, glowing? But yes, her eyes are not playing tricks on her. There, beneath the wolf's impeccable and perfectly groomed coat, she can see colors glowing beneath his pelt. Red, purple, yellow. The same colors as she'd seen in his eyes before he'd laid that Frost Beast low with ease.
Clutching at the edge of her landing ramp now for support, leaning forward enough to fall off if she's not careful, Scrapper One-Four-Two watches with bated breath right alongside the rest of the arena's audience as the two opponents meet. The Grandmaster's Champion swings his flame scythe blindingly fast through the air, moving almost too fast for even her Asgardian senses to keep up.
And yet, when he swings… the wolf is no longer where he's aiming. Instead, the beast swoops under and up, and with two rakes of its titanic claws, guts the Champion right then and there. The lack of armor was a common thing among gladiators on Sakaar, a sign that you were strong enough not to need it. In point of fact, Scrapper One-Four-Two knew for certain that the Champion WAS strong enough not to need it, his skin tougher than most weapons that could be found on Sakaar.
But not tougher than her wolf's claws. Mouth dry, the disgraced Valkyrie watches in wide-eyed amazement as the Champion drops his scythe, falling to his knees and trying to hold in his guts even as they come tumbling out. He's crying, she realizes, sobbing in shock and pain from his disembowelment. Everyone in the arena hears him beg for mercy… right before the wolf swings a paw and decapitates him.
For a moment, silence falls over the arena. The Grandmaster's Champion, laid low by a beast in what should have been just another simple exhibition match. Forget getting some extra booze out of her creature's showing, Scrapper One-Four-Two now had to worry about how the Grandmaster himself would react to this turn of events. It could honestly go either way with the psychopathic megalomaniac. He could decide this was all hilarious and name a wolf of all things as his new Champion… or he could throw a hissy fit that would likely result in her and half of his retinue dead, melted into so much goop by his guards' weapons.
Head swiveling over to the Grandmaster's Box on the far side of the arena bowl, Scrapper One-Four-Two zeroes in on the man in question himself, looking just as surprised as everyone else for the moment. She watches and waits to see if she should try to run.
The Announcer, in the Grandmaster's Box with him, is a stammering stuttering mess of a man by this point. Standing up quite suddenly, the Grandmaster snaps his fingers, and the Announcer is dragged away by his guards. Meanwhile, the Grandmaster himself takes over the device that will project his voice across the entire arena. When HE speaks through it, the disgraced Valkyrie listens, and so does everyone else.
"Well, well, well. What a… startling turn of events. It would seem… we have a new CHAMPION!"
A raucous cheer goes up among the crowd of slaves and thralls that are in the arena stands, originating from the Grandmaster's Box but spreading swiftly, like wildfire. Everyone loves a winner, after all, and now that their Lord and Master has made it clear they can root for this one, they will, and happily at that.
"Of course! He'll have to clean up the rest of the riff raff first… but I don't imagine THAT will be much of a difficulty!"
Laughter spreads across the arena as fast as the cheering did, while the Grandmaster's unspoken command is carried out by his Beast Masters, the obedience discs on the rest of the monsters and beasts in the arena flaring to life as they're directed towards the wolf. HER wolf. But of course, the Grandmaster is right, just like always. The rest of the creatures, monstrosities from a dozen different worlds, are slaughtered one and all by her wolf, torn asunder, ripped to shreds, and in some cases flat out devoured by the hulking beast she'd caught sleeping.
In the midst of this, Scrapper One-Four-Two isn't surprised when her comm beeps with an urgent message from Topaz demanding that she present herself to the Grandmaster immediately. With a low sigh, the dark-skinned Scrapper crawls back into her ship and closes the exit ramp, moving to fly down to the hangar that will take her to the Grandmaster's Box. Time… to face the music.
-x-X-x-
"One-Four-Two! I should have known he would be yours! You always bring me the most fascinating things, you know that?"
Forcing a smile onto her face, Scrapper One-Four-Two rolls her shoulders in a quasi-shrug.
"It's my job, boss. Glad you like this latest find."
"Oh yes. Such an interesting creature. Did you know he was psychic?"
Blinking at that, taken aback by the revelation, she answers truthfully.
"Uh, no sir. I found him unconscious out in Quadrant Fifty-Three-Dash-Seven-Two. Gave him to the Beast Masters, and they paid me five thousand for him."
The Grandmaster nods, as if expecting this answer, humming as he taps his chin.
"Five thousand… five thousand… that seems low. Is that low, Topaz?"
With a glare leveled in her direction that could melt the ice off of Jotunheim, the Grandmaster's Right Hand Woman sneers.
"High enough for trash like One-Four-Two, your majesty."
Far from being put off by Topaz's standoffish attitude, the Grandmaster just laughs, clapping his hands together like the child he sometimes portrayed himself to be.
"Oh-ho! So not very high at all? Well, what is high? Let's say… five million, for bringing in my new Champion, even if you didn't know his true potential! A diamond found in the rough deserves no less for its finder!"
Topaz scowls mightily but inputs the proper commands. One-Four-Two can only stare wide-eyed down at her own wrist, where she sees the five million deposited into her account. That was more than generous… though she knew better than to tell the Grandmaster that. The fickle man just might decide to take it back or subtract some from the total, even if he was in a good mood. He was crazy like that.
"Thank you, sir."
"Of course, of course! Only the best for my best girl! Anyways, back to our new Champion! He's a psychic beast, as I mentioned before. I was able to draw some… ideas of what he might like from his animalistic mind. Once he realized what I was doing, he quite eagerly thrust his desires onto me. So primal, so raw, so visceral… I like it!"
The Grandmaster makes a show of shuddering in abject delight like the pervert he is, even as everyone else just stays quiet, knowing better than to react in anyway. After a moment, Sakaar's Ruler calms down and slumps back into his chair, lounging upon it as he looks at Scrapper One-Four-Two.
"Tonight was the most excitement we've had in a month. Such excitement should be rewarded! Our new Champion, for all that he's not the most talkative fellow, was quite clear about what he wants. Luckily, it's not any different from the usual with these brutish types! Good food, good fights… and good mates."
She tenses up ever so slightly as the Grandmaster's eyes fall upon her at that last one. No, surely he couldn't be implying… but Topaz's nasty grin from just over his shoulder tells Scrapper One-Four-Two that's exactly what he's implying.
"Your beast to take care of, One-Four-Two! My people will handle the food, the arena will handle the fights… and you'll be handling his other needs for the foreseeable future!"
That was… normally, she would never ever question the Grandmaster. That was a good way to get yourself dead, or worse. But then, as far as she was concerned, this was bordering on worse than death already. And so, she tries a token protest.
"Wouldn't… wouldn't procuring female wolves be better, sir? I can't imagine I would appeal as a mate to a beast like that…"
"Au Contraire, my dear Scrapper! When I showed our brand-new Champion a mental image of you, he was VERY excited indeed. Turns out, you're definitely his type! Now, chop-chop! Don't want to leave our Champion waiting, do we?"
For a long moment, the woman once known as Brunnhilde considers if death would be better than tossing aside the last shattered remnants of her dignity to lay with a wolf in exchange for her life. But in the end… she's too much of a coward to die with even a lick of honor, isn't she? And so, bowing her head to the Grandmaster and ignoring Topaz's unnatural-looking grin, she removes herself from the Grandmaster's presence, allowing his guards to escort her to the new Champion's… lodgings.
-x-X-x-
It's been less than a day since the last champion's death, and it's incredibly obvious that the Grandmaster's people don't know how to treat an animal Champion. As evidenced by the fact that they've shown her to the old Champion's quarters, where her wolf, the new Champion, is waiting for her. The place is very clearly designed for someone with two legs, two arms, and opposable thumbs.
Not that that seems to have stopped her wolf from making himself at home. He's shredded his way through the sheets and is currently sprawled on the bed, gnawing the last bits of meat off of a particularly large bone. He's certainly been fed well, if the mess all over the floor is any indication. To say nothing of his blood-soaked maw.
Of course, the moment she enters the room, he looks up and makes eye contact with her. Scrapper One-Four-Two freezes as a… presence makes itself known. The disgraced Asgardian Valkyrie's eyes go wide, and it takes every ounce of her willpower and inner strength not to collapse to her knees right then and there. The Grandmaster had said her wolf was psychic… he hadn't mentioned that the damn beast had a presence and aura on par with King Odin of Asgard.
Feeling that familiar weight pressing down on her shoulders, all but demanding she kneel, the Scrapper grits her teeth, feeling defiant even in the face of her ultimate fate as a dog's chew toy. And so, she lets herself say something she always wanted to say to the actual Odin.
"F-Fuck you… y-you chauvinistic f-fucking pig…"
Now obviously, the wolf doesn't understand her words. But he clearly understands her tone, as he pushes himself up from his lounging position and growls at her. Once again, she's faced with a choice of defiance unto death, or submission in hopes of living another day. Once again, her cowardice sees her sinking to her knees.
Hopping down from the former Champion's thoroughly trashed bed, her wolf pads his way over to her, even as he impresses on her mind what he wants from her. The Grandmaster was right, for some reason the beast finds her appealing. She doesn't know how that works, but she knows what she has to do to survive… and so she does it.
Stripping off her gear, she shivers as the wolf impatiently circles around her, sniffing at her, licking his chops. Inch by inch, the dark-skinned Asgardian exposes her flesh to him, revealing her toned, scarred body. She's beautiful, but not unmarked. Her final battle as a Valkyrie of Asgard had left her with as many new scars as she'd already had old ones.
And yet, this doesn't seem to displease the wolf, who insists psychically on her submission. And so, on the floor of the former Champion's quarters, Scrapper One-Four-Two lowers herself forward, pressing her cheek into the marble beneath her even as she lifts her chocolate hips high into the air for… the Grandmaster's new Champion.
She's just beginning to feel ridiculous when two massive canine paws land on either side of her head, the wolf mounting her without skipping a beat. His cock, tapered and canine in shape, presses against her slit from behind. She's not wet, not truly, but she's a little moist as he… massages her mind, for lack of a better word.
"F-Fuck… g-get out of my head…"
But of course, he doesn't understand her, and she doesn't have the strength to keep him out. Gurgling, the helpless hapless Scrapper's eyes roll around in her skull as the tip of his massive prick presses insistently at the entrance of her cunt. He's not even inside of her yet physically, and it already feels like she's being fucked harder than ever before. His mental presence presses down on her, pinning her to the floor as effectively as his physical weight.
And then he IS inside of her, and it's all the disgraced Valkyrie can do not to squeal like a stuck pig. She does holler, of course, screaming at the top of her lungs as he shows no mercy, no hesitation. He fucks her like a beast, like she's his bitch in heat, like she belongs to him. Belatedly, Scrapper One-Four-Two realizes those thoughts are not entirely her own. He's pushing them upon her mind seemingly by primal instinct, forcing her perspective to warp.
She's to be his mate, she's forced to come to terms with. His collection of fuck holes. Gurgling as he ravishes her with every last inch of his sizable wolf prick, the Scrapper shudders beneath him, sweat already covering her body as he fucks her against the floor of the chamber, no holds barred. It's rough and violent and brutal, but her Asgardian physiology ensures she can take it, physically at least.
Mentally is a whole different story. He's in her head, has been since she entered, but it's so much worse now. She hadn't realized how much she was managing to reflexively push him away and defend herself until she was distracted by the big fat doggy dick ravaging her insides. Now that she's getting fucked so soundly, it's impossible to concentrate on anything else… and he's getting his claws into her mind all the deeper.
"B-Bastard… f-fuck it's sho goooood~"
She was a proud warrior of Asgard, once upon a time. But that was a long time ago, a thousand years hence. She'd been a not-so-proud Scrapper of Sakaar for the last millennia, and that… that has a way of diminishing one's value in oneself. But then, so does being thrown away by one's King after centuries of loyal service, sent to be slaughtered by the King's bloodthirsty imprisoned daughter to give him time to lock her away for good.
Put bluntly, One-Four-Two's self-esteem was pretty much already as low as it could go. Becoming the Champion's Mate was honestly something of a promotion, something to be proud of for once in over a thousand years of anything lacking an ounce of pride or honor. Perhaps that was why she fought it so hard. Because she preferred to wallow.
But in the end, it mattered not. As the wolf fucks her physically, he also fucks her mentally, and no matter how hard she fights… she can't stop it. She breaks.
Scrapper One-Four-Two. Brunnhilde. The Last Valkyrie. Titles and names one and all for the same woman… and none of it mattered anymore. She was His Mate now. The Champion's Mate. Shuddering in eye-rolling ecstasy beneath him, the dark-skinned warrior settles into her new role with… not quite ease, but a slow acceptance as she climaxes around his cock again and again, until he finally seeds her and knots her, locking them together.
It's the best sex she's ever had… and maybe the start of something new.
-x-X-x-
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