To The Wolves 3 (Part 2)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Part 2 of "To The Wolves 3". A story about a televised cage fighting League run by Commissioner Denton Wolfe, centering around the women's division.

Carrigan sits in a black leather desk chair sifting through headshot after headshot of the new female trainees, turning over the pages in her hand to skim the stats on the back before discarding them into piles in no particular order. She keeps accidentally making eye contact with Ash, her fellow Executive Scout, sitting on the opposite side of the conference table.

Carrigan doesn’t know how much longer she should keep this up. What the hell am I supposed to be doing? She keeps looking over at Ash to get some sort of clue, but he appears to be doing the exact same thing that she is, only with the male trainees’ headshots. The way he’s sorting looks totally random too, she thinks, starting to worry that she has waited past the point where she can ask for clarification on their assignment.

Seeing Ash work hard at something other than the bench press is an odd sight for Carrigan. His overly groomed eyebrows are furrowed in concentration in a serious fashion that blatantly contradicts his over-gelled fauxhawk hairstyle. She notices his hands with his perfectly manicured fingernails as he turns over the pages. She then looks down at her own hands to compare. Her nails are painted black with tattoos across her fingers. More tattoos trail up both of her arms all the way to her shoulders. She absentmindedly tongues at her lip piercing as she thinks to herself, if I just met this guy today, I’d never believe he’s a fighter...he’s way too pretty.

“Okay, that’s it! I’m done!” Ash says suddenly, slapping the headshot in his hand down onto the table, startling Carrigan. “What are we supposed to be doing right now?”

“Oh, my God. Are you serious?” Carrigan asks.

“I’m sorry!” Ash says, frustrated, “I should’ve asked earlier, but...I don’t know, I’m an idiot. I have no idea why we’re here when they’re not even done with their first day yet. What are we supposed to be reporting on?”

“No,” Carrigan says, “I don’t know either. I’m just pretending to read these.”

“Me too!” he says. “Aw, man. We’ve been sitting here doing nothing like morons for past half hour!”

Carrigan laughs. The only information she received on being an ‘Executive Scout’ was that she and one of the male League fighters were to compile summary reports of the Training Den students’ progress. Those reports would then be passed along to the Artemius and Bruntain Executives because, apparently, the Executives don’t actually watch the show before selecting the trainees that they want during the Bid. Carrigan should’ve expected as much, even before being assigned to this project. Nothing around here is ever actually done the way that it’s explained to the fans.

After a moment of thought, Ash leans forward and asks, “Do you ever think sometimes Tress makes up bulshit assignments just to like keep us busy and out of the way?”

“Yeah, for real,” Carrigan says. “That’s the first thing I thought when I heard I was doing this with you, ‘cause you know, you’re always freakin’ annoying people all the time? It makes total sense that they’d want to get rid of you--”

“Hey!” he says indignantly. “Like you’re not annoying? They probably sent you here because they’re sick of you going all PTSD when you’re around the other girls now.”

A flash of anger hits Carrigan. “PTSD? What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s the thing that soldiers--”

“I know what it is, jackass! I don’t have PTSD!”

Ash rolls his eyes which makes Carrigan angrier. “Pah-lease, girl, you’ve been all weird ever since you came back from your injury leave. You want me to go get Shy in here so you can demonstrate that freeze-up thing you do where you go all silent? It’s weird as shit, especially since you’re so loud and obnoxious all the rest of the time.”

I’m obnoxious?! Are you actually saying that?” Carrigan says, now fuming.

Before Ash can respond, there’s a buzz from somewhere under the table. Ash reaches down and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. He smirks at the screen and snickers quietly to himself like a sinister cartoon villain. He then begins texting back, completely disregarding the argument he and Carrigan were just having.

Carrigan sighs and leans back in her chair as she realizes who that text must be from. His girlfriend’s sexting him again. Carrigan idly wonders how angry Ness would be if she knew how often Ash touts her dirty texts to his idiotic cronies. Although, when is she ever not mad? Carrigan has learned from many others’ mistakes to not bring up Ness’ anger problem to Ash. It only ever leads to him recounting lewd anecdotes about hate sex that would rival even Shy’s vulgar sensibilities.

Carrigan remembers the time she spent with Ness in the Training Den last year while going through rehabilitation training. Carrigan subconsciously moves her left hand over and rubs her right arm over one of the three places her bone had been broken during an ill-advised attempt to help her friend, Desty. Her arm was just one of the many injuries she sustained before being transported from the in-house medical to a  hospital outside the League. She was on so much morphine in the hospital that, when she received the phone call from Commissioner Denton informing her that she would not be returning for the rest of the season, she could not tell whether he was actually speaking to her or if the whole thing was a dream. A nightmare.

While she sits pointlessly waiting for Ash to break from his text conversation, a word on one of the trainee’s statistics page catches Carrigan’s eye. She pulls the page that is partially obscured by other headshots into full view and looks at it closer. The work history section is what caught her attention. Carrigan recognizes the company name instantly as the same one at which the new Head of Training, Abel, was formerly employed following her time in the service. As Carrigan wonders whether or not Abel is aware that this woman is currently in her ranks, another thought crosses her mind. Holy shit, this girl must be a billionaire.

Occupation:CEO of Secure Force National


Curled up in a big, cushy armchair in the corner of the female common room of the Training Den, Ness leans toward the wall as she texts with Ash, hiding her contraband cell phone from the view of the other trainees.

The other ladies in the room are lounging lethargically in sleepwear, exhausted from their first tiring day in the League.

“Can you take that somewhere else, please?” a wiry haired girl in red flannel pajamas says to the only woman in the room dressed in day clothes.

Standing against a wall of the common room, the woman in an a grey pearl colored pantsuit lowers her lit cigar and says with dignified composure, “Of course. My apologies.” The woman nods with a small smile, but cold eyes, and excuses herself from the room.

The rest of the ladies are quiet as the well dressed woman walks away. When they hear the door click shut behind her, several of them giggle at the woman’s odd intensity.

“You think she sleeps in that suit?” one of the girls jokingly asks. The others laugh.

“Speaking of sleeping in luxury…” the wiry haired woman says, looking at the girl sitting next to her. “Veronica, is that a Neiman Marcus nighty?”

The woman named Veronica looks down at herself as if she has forgotten what she is wearing. Her satin and lace chemise has an ornate “NM” embroidered over her left breast. “Oh, yeah it is,” Veronica replies. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s cute, but looks like it costs more than my rent,” the girl replies. She then asks Veronica, “And you were wearing Prada running shoes earlier, weren’t you?”

An indignant snort of disgust is heard a few seats away from them. Ness, who was only half listening, looks up at the noise and sees Lotta glaring in the direction of the two girls talking fashion.

“Do you have a problem?” Veronica asks.

Lotta stares back with a scowl and replies insolently, “Am I the only one here who didn’t buy my way in?” Veronica and the wiry haired girl appear to not know how to respond to that question. “Between you with your Prada bullshit, Mafia outside with her cigars and cognac, and Miss Olympia over here,” she says nodding in Drewee’s direction, “are there any real fighters here? At all?”

When nobody answers Lotta’s denigrating question, the wiry haired girl says, “I don’t think she had any cognac...but ‘Mafia’ is an awesome nickname.” The other girls around her laugh. Lotta shakes her head, still scowling.

“I didn’t buy my way in, Lotta, ” Veronica says, “but even if I did, that’s still better than the way you got in. What, did you think throwing a tantrum in front of everybody and acting like a maniac would trick Shy into thinking you two have a lot in common?”

With a sudden realization, Ness chimes in for the first time and asks Lotta, “Oh, were you the girl who threw the chair in the waiting room?” She can tell by the way the other women look away smirking that her guess was right on the money.

Lotta replies back, “What’s it to you, tea sucker?”

Ness laughs at Lotta’s attempt to offend her. Americans can never seem to insult the English properly. “No wonder Shy picked you as her Omega,” Ness says back.

More ladies look over to Ness, interested. Ness suspects they’ve all been hiding how much they are secretly worrying about what tribulations training will bring.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lotta asks.

Ness smiles, satisfied with the way she’s captured all the newbies’ attention.

“The Omegas never make it through to the end of the season,” Ness says. “At least, not Lennyn’s. I don’t know what Shy’s got planned - this is her first year doing the trainings down here with us  - but Lennyn...well, let’s just say she isn’t exactly in this because she finds teaching fulfilling.” Ness allows that to sink in with the new girls. She waits for one of them to prod her on.

One of the girls in a crop top and cotton shorts on the couch obliges and asks, “What do you mean? What does she do?”

Ness and Drewee make knowing eye contact for a brief moment, then Drewee averts her gaze modestly to her lap. Ness elaborates, “The Heads are supposed to teach lessons in their area of expertise. And Lennyn’s area of expertise is submissions. She comes down here every year and she picks one girl - the Italian, this year, apparently - and she...demonstrates. She doesn’t give a shit about whether or not any of us actually learn how to do any of her maneuvers. The rumor everyone says upstairs is that Lennyn looks forward to giving her lessons because it gives her pleasure hearing the girls scream.”

The common room is silent for a few moments after Ness finishes her explanation. The wiry haired girl is the first to speak.

“ what do you think Shy is going to do then? What’s her area of expertise?”

The girls all look at each other, their minds racing with possible scenarios. Ness, having genuinely no idea what Shy has in store, does not offer up any ideas. She instead stays silent, allowing their imaginations take over...until Drewee interrupts.

“I’m sure it won’t be anything crazy,” Drewee says to Lotta comfortingly.

Ness couldn’t help but notice her choice to use the word ‘crazy’. From the look on Drewee’s face, Drewee realized the irony in that phrasing as well. She quickly corrects herself.

“I mean, she’s totally different than she was a couple years ago.”

“How would you know?” Lotta rudely asks. “You’re not up there. You have no idea what she’s like.”

“That’s not true,” Veronica chimes in. Looking to Drewee, she asks, “You’re close with Whitney, aren’t you? She’s right up there in Shy’s circle.”

“Yeah,” Drewee agrees. “And Whitney is the kindest, most down to earth girl in the whole world. If Shy was still as…” Drewee stops before she accidentally uses the word ‘crazy’ again and changes tacks. “If she still did the kind of stuff she used to, there’s no way Whitney would have anything to do with her.”

A girl sitting cross legged on the floor reading a magazine says, without looking up, “A security guard said earlier that Shy had sex with one of the girls she interviewed who was supposed to start training with us today, and then had her fired.” She then adds sarcastically, “So yeah...sounds like she’s changed tons.”


Several floors above, Lennyn walks briskly down the hallways of the League. Her mind is full of her usual mental to do list of tasks she still needs to complete. Her morning is full of early appointments, so she compromises with herself and decides that she’ll just have one quick nightcap before she turns in for the day.

To compensate for the lack of windows in the League halls, the lights of the hallways are dimmed as a signal to the fighters and workers that nighttime has fallen.

Lennyn turns the final corner before reaching the door to her sleeping quarters, but then suddenly stops in place. Looking down the low lit hallway, she sees light shining out through the cracks around the door twenty or so feet ahead on the left. Someone’s in my room.

Walking quietly up to her door, Lennyn gently presses her ear against it listening for any sounds of an intruder. She waits in front of the door for a nearly a full minute, hearing nothing. Just as Lennyn is about to resign to the idea that she probably just left the light on, she hears a woman’s voice from somewhere inside the room say loudly, “Hai intenzione di venire dentro o no?”

Submitted: February 09, 2015

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