Luna Wilder's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Luna Wilder came to MukMuk to end the nightmares. Every child who watched her last bloody match now woke screaming. She was a champion wrestler, and she carried that guilt like a stone. Tonight it drove her toward the black-and-purple saloon with the ring built on its roof. Her team waited inside. So did the thing wearing her coach's face. It had given itself away an hour ago. It laughed when a fighter slipped and cracked his elbow on the rail. Her real coach never laughed at pain. Not once, in ten years. Luna had backed away from that laugh and slipped outside to think. Now she needed back in. But the arena fought her. The moment she stepped through the wooden doors, the dread hit like cold water. Her stomach turned. The ring above seemed to press down on her skull. Her knees buckled. She grabbed a support beam and held on. She would not reach her team like this. She would drop before the stairs. "You look sick." The voice was flat and short. Killer Zozo stood in the doorway. Full clown makeup, gothic dress, the manager Luna had crossed paths with over the demon-belt trouble. People took one look and wrote Zozo off. Luna knew better. Behind her stood Iconic Havoc, arms crossed, psycho paint smeared across her face. The champion who never lost without finding a way back. "The building does this to me," Luna said. Her voice shook. "I have to get upstairs. Something's up there pretending to be my coach." Havoc studied her. "Fear. It's fear making you weak. I've fought sick." She stepped close. "You breathe wrong, you fall. Match my count." Luna wanted to argue. She had no time. But Havoc pressed a hand flat against Luna's chest and began to count. In for four. Hold. Out for four. Luna followed. The saloon spun less. The pressure eased off her skull, one slow breath at a time. "Why help me?" Luna asked between counts. "You're chasing a fake," Zozo said. "I hate fakes." She closed the subject. Luna's legs steadied. She let go of the beam and stood on her own. The dread still crawled under her skin. But it no longer owned her. "Go," Havoc said. "Before it's alone with them too long." Luna took the stairs two at a time. Her breathing held. At the top she saw it. Her coach's face, her coach's coat, standing over her three teammates near the ropes. It turned. It smiled the wrong smile. "There she is," it said, in her coach's voice. Luna stopped at the top step. She was steady now. She was inside. And the thing wearing her coach knew she had come for it.