Backstage Pass to Mortal Kombat

Chapter 23 - Tramp Stamp

[[Heyoooooo....whazzup? So, here's a new chapter. I'm trying to keep up with all of my books. So if there's a vampire/werewolf/christian/cowgirl/drugged up doctor in this, when there isn't supposed to be one, then I apologize....it's going to happen though. And maybe on purpose, cause that sounded like the funniest damn story. I'm going to be rich off of it. And if all else fails, plan B always works; rob a bank with Charlie Shene...yeah. Hope you like the chapter!]]

Chapter 23 - Tramp Stamp

‘You don’t miss your water till the well runs dry’, the saying is true. The nightly feasts our Edenia camp held now seemed like a casualty, when I remember first coming there and being surprised. Here, in Fang Hai, they didn’t see any need for a feast. After all; we’re just fighters, right? The small plate, covered in grime and dirt, barely held enough beans and bread for me to fill up. I was sitting on a chopped log near a large bonfire. The men scattered around the camp were just as dirty as the plates.

Sitting by my booted feet was a chipped glass filled with water, which looked for like cooking oil to me. I looked at both with pure disgust, not wanting to touch either one. “This is just nasty; how can they stand to eat this stuff?” I muttered to Johnny. After deciding I wasn’t going to touch it, I tied my mask back onto my face and handed the plate and water to a man beside me, who seemed very thankful that I gave him seconds.

Johnny sighed and did the same; handing his full plate to a man beside him, who seemed equally thankful as the first. “I don’t know – I think you get used to it after a while, or something.”

I shook my head and stood up, “Well, what do you say we take a look around? Maybe try to find somewhere suitable for sleep.” With a nod Johnny stood and joined me, easily falling into stride beside me. We wandered through the circles of men who talked animatedly about their tattoos or scars. I must have seen a hundred gaudy crosses on sculpted arms, nearly naked women sitting in provocative positions, and even a few names. Once I caught the description the man was giving about the name ‘Giselle’ on his chest.

“I took her to my trainer once, seein’ if she wanted to be a fighter, too. Lil’ girl loved me so much she agreed and became a better fighter than me! Not by much,” He added to their teasing calls. “Now she’s a trainer as well…come to think of it; I haven’t seen her in years!”

Johnny nudged my shoulder, “Remind you of anyone?”

I blushed, “I’m not better than you.”

“True,” He turned his nose up with pride, making me roll my eyes. “But you’re definitely getting there.”

I smiled in response as we continued walking around. In the very back of the camp we found an empty tent with a sign that said ‘reserved’. Johnny sighed with relief when we saw it, walking right past me – since I had already stopped walking – and began crawling inside it. “Ah, this crappy rag of a tent is actually a sight for sore eyes.” He laid his head down on a nearly flat pillow inside and curled into the fetal position.

“Johnny, I don’t think this tent was made for us.” I looked around us but didn’t see anyone. Looking again at the sign, I saw it didn’t say who it was reserved for, it just said reserved. “Let’s just keep looking before the owner comes over and–”

“Oi – what are you doing in my tent?!” A loud booming voice hollered right behind me, causing even me to jump. I quickly turned around and stepped out of the way of whoever this was as they stomped forward to the tent, reaching in and retrieving Johnny with one hand. Holding him by the scruff of his neck, the man looked angrily at him. “Can’t you read, twit?” He demanded.