**** Elysium 1986 ****

All the hustle and bustle, all the people, all the excitement, and now she had done something she never thought she would do in her life: she had stepped onto a real red carpet. It wasn’t that Abigail had ever wanted fame and high society. She was a lower middle class girl who had never been given anything. For the most part, she was headstrong, realistic, and had never hoped for a prince on a white horse to rescue her from her average life. She was used to working hard, living frugally, and not believing in miracles. However, the decision to start the TRAP agency with the other two fortune seekers had changed her life a lot in a short time. She liked the fact that she could now experience situations that were often dangerous, and the adventure still appealed to her. Now she was standing in an elegant dress at a festive reception in the most expensive area of the city. All this on an intoxicatingly warm summer night. The thrill, the curiosity and the anticipation of what lay ahead made her shiver. A few months ago, after long days at the office, she had been too tired at this hour to even turn on the television, listen to a radio play on tape, or read a book…. Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted.
“Oh, hello here, please look this way!” one of the photographers called to her from the crowd. Abigail looked left and right, then pointed at herself. “Yes, yes, just you! Would you please turn halfway around, put your right hand on your hip and give us a smile?” the photographer waved at her eagerly.
“I… uh…” Abigail saw that for some reason Yuri had already stomped further down the carpet. Yanny and Harry were waiting about two meters away, nodding encouragingly at her. Abigail blushed slightly, but then did as the photographer asked.
“Wonderful, glorious, excellent!” he exulted, snapping picture after picture as if his life depended on it. “Unbelievable, this fresh look! What designer do you represent?” the photographer exclaimed again. Abigail blushed even more and didn’t know what to say. Instead, she waved insecurely with a smile and continued to walk behind Yuri.
“Looks like Aby just missed out on a modeling career,” Harry said to Yanny with a laugh, and they slowly followed the others as well. Yuri had almost reached the gangway when he stopped abruptly. The person a few meters away looked very familiar to him. When a small camera crew jumped on the lady and started to interview her, even his last doubts disappeared. It was indeed the blonde icon of countless aerobics and music videos, Gigi Chiwawa. She was wearing a cobalt blue evening gown studded with hundreds of rhinestones and a long golden feather boa, her mane carefully tamed in an elaborate updo. Yuri ran a hand through his beard and looked closely at Gigi, her seductive curves exquisitely accentuated by the tight gown. Then he noticed that she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled at him. He smiled back, hoping she would catch it despite his handsome beard. Finally, she waved him over and into the camera. Yuri hesitated for a moment, but then just shrugged and walked over to her and the reporter.
“He’s not seriously going to give an interview to that TV station over there, is he?” Harry said in amazement to Abigail, whom they had caught up with by now.
“If he advertises our agency now, we’ll have a huge reach … And be screwed at the same time,” Abigail sighed. Gigi Chiwawa immediately linked arms with Yuri as he stepped in front of the camera, as best she could with the height difference. Yuri towered over her almost two heads. Then she put on her million dollar smile and immediately babbled to the reporter and the camera.
“Aaah, you know, in show business we’re all one big family, even if you haven’t seen each other for a while. Right? What did you say your name was, handsome?”
“Yuri,” Yuri replied curtly.
“Of course, Yuri, sorry handsome, how could I forget,” she whooped. Then she patted his stomach in an emphatically familiar way. His muscular physique had not escaped her notice, of course, even under the tuxedo. “You’ve really worked on your six-pack since the last time I saw you. Why don’t you tell us and don’t let us pull everything out of your nose, you were the fitness trainer of…. of uh… “, she snapped her fingers wildly while searching for the right name, which was apparently already on the tip of her tongue.
“Ricardo,” Yuri guessed into the blue.
“Ricaaardo… Yes, of course, Ricardo! How is he?” she continued, punctuating her words with gestures with her still free hand, while the dyed feathers of her boa shook rhythmically.
“Very well, we just made movie together,” Yuri fibbed expressionlessly and continued to shoot into the blue. A few meters behind the scene, Abigail’s face had already lost all color, while Harry fought not to laugh. Yanny, on the other hand, was listening intently, looking as if she was taking notes in her head of everything that was happening around her.
“This is exciting, what movie is this?” the reporter asked Yuri with interest.
“Strapping Flutes at Half Past Three,” he replied. Gigi looked at him stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing.
“Isn’t he adorable, our Yuri? Still the same. Well, I guess I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” she trilled to him. Her hand slipped a little from his hip and she pinched his bottom teasingly. Then, swinging her feather boa, she strutted down the gangway and onto the ship. Yuri watched her go, trying to guess from her tight dress if she was wearing underwear.
“Do you have a message for us before you board the ship?” the reporter called out to him. The question interrupted the giant’s interesting observation.
“Brushing your teeth is very important,” he replied, then walked to the gangway, leaving the reporter standing there.

The ship was buzzing with activity. Among the many festively dressed people, eager service staff scurried about, handing out appetizers, canapés, all kinds of drinks, and taking special requests. Right here on the first deck, a string quartet played dignified chamber music, adding an extra touch of nobility to the scene.
“The ring where the fights take place must be on the second deck, one level above us. I’ll go ahead and check it out,” Harry said, casting a searching glance at his wristwatch.
“I’ll come with you. As your handler in the ring corner, I’m sure I need to check in as well,” Yanny said as she stood next to him.
“All right. I hope we don’t get lost in the shuffle,” Harry nodded at her. Yanny looked up at him, took his hand and smiled.
“Problem solved,” she said proudly, winking at him as he noticed his heart starting to beat faster again.
“Is good. While you lovecrows go up, I’ll check situation here on this deck,” Yuri grumbled.
“What does lovecrows mean?” Yanny asked curiously. But before Harry could protest and Yuri could launch into an explanation, they were interrupted by Abigail.
“All right, this is what we’re going to do. Yuri will check deck one, you two will go to the ring on deck two and I’ll check the upper deck. We probably won’t have to go all the way up to the bridge. Dexter won’t be running the ship himself. The meeting place will be cabin 13, which Carla has reserved for us.” The others confirmed this plan and they set off.

Each floor of the huge luxury yacht was connected by stairs. Harry and Yanny made their way up to the fighting ring, passing a few guards who seemed to be placed very discreetly at neuralgic points around the ship. If you paid attention, you could easily spot these inconspicuous figures in the crowd. The ring, surprisingly, was an octagonal cage made of steel struts and surrounded by a net. The two studied the construction carefully. Yanny still hadn’t let go of Harry’s hand, even though they had reached their destination.
“Harry?” she asked him quietly.
“Yes?” he replied and their eyes met.
“I know you can do it, fighting is your profession. But promise me you’ll be careful…” she told him, this time in Japanese. “If it gets really bad, I have something for you…” she let go of his hand and slowly started to pull up the long skirt of her evening dress with both hands.
“What… oh my God, stop, stop, stop…!” he said startled and she lowered her skirt again with a confused look on her face. He knew, of course, that she still had a lot to learn about social interaction and some things like shame she couldn’t fully understand. As human as she seemed, maybe it had something to do with the fact that she still thought like a machine in some situations? He wasn’t sure.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just…” she started to explain as a handsome gentleman in a white suit approached and greeted them politely.
“Mr. Harima, I presume?” he asked in a calm voice. The man was about 50 years old, with a close-cropped gray beard and fashionable hairstyle. Numerous gold rings adorned his fingers.
“Yes, I’m here to be confirmed for the semi-final,” Harry replied.
“Splendid, my man,” the gentleman said, reaching into his waistcoat pocket and pulling out a key with a small plate engraved with the number 13 in Roman numerals. “My name is Travis Campbell. I’m the manager of tonight’s finals and I’m also the ring announcer. The fight begins in one hour. Feel free to look around your booth. We’ve also left the appropriate attire for you there.” Then he looked at Yanny. “You must be Mr. Kenji’s medical assistant, Ms…”
“Yanny,” she replied. Travis then took her hand. Instead of shaking it, however, he bowed deeply and skillfully indicated a kiss on the hand.
“It is an extraordinary pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madame. Your presence brings splendor to this humble barge, good to have you here,” he said in a practiced, charming voice, then took a deep breath of her scent. Harry gave him a look that was unprecedented in its cold explicitness. He wondered if it was against the rules to throw the first punch of the semi-final directly at the ring announcer.
“This is Blaze of a new Horizon, isn’t it?” he asked her matter-of-factly after finishing his olfactory examination. Yanny looked at him in surprise. This person must have a very good sense of smell, because he had recognized her perfume perfectly.
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Yanny said with a smile.
“It complements the scent of your skin in the most excellent way, madam, a delight to behold your aura,” he continued, looking deep into her eyes, letting his eyebrows twitch lasciviously once.
“Oh… thank you…” she replied. Conflicting feelings stirred within her. On the one hand, she was flattered, but at the same time, she was unsettled and surprised by the brash manner of the gentleman. His language seemed rehearsed and dishonest; he had probably said similar sentences to countless other women. And then that strange sniffing…. She didn’t know exactly how to react. But surely the social norm demanded that she return the compliment with a friendly response, and she certainly didn’t want to seem conspicuous.
“Impressive how you recognized the perfume on my hand. But I only sprayed it on my shoulders and between my breasts…” she said, hoping she had hit the right note.
“Um… we’ll go check out the cabin then. Thanks for your help, Mr. Campbell,” Harry interrupted with a growl, quickly grabbing Yanny’s hand and gently pulling her along. “This way, Doctor…” She followed him. He didn’t like strange men kissing her hand and embarrassing her with pushy compliments. He had just taken her hand of his own accord for the first time since they had met. It made her feel good. Why didn’t he do it more often? He was so reserved around her. Maybe she shouldn’t ask him directly about it, so as not to put her foot in her mouth again? She would have to think about it.

Yuri strolled casually through the hustle and bustle, grabbed a few finger foods from the trays offered here and there, and was finally handed a glass of the finest champagne, which he poured down his throat with a sweeping motion, then burped properly. Surely there had to be something of interest for their mission here? Maybe he’d get lucky and run into Dennis Dexter? He stomped further into the interior of the ship and suddenly the strong smell of food rose to his nose. The clatter of pans, pots, and all sorts of tools could be heard. So the kitchen was on this deck. He followed the sounds and smells further down the corridor and came to two double doors facing each other. A quick glance told him that the dining room was on the left and the kitchen was just across the hall, where things were getting busy. According to the schedule, dinner would be served between the semifinals and the finals, and everything was already being prepared at full speed to serve as many dishes as possible at the same time. Yuri thought for a moment. There was still one thing missing to complete the task, and this was a good opportunity. He opened the right double door and entered the kitchen. As expected, the large kitchen was buzzing with activity. At least a dozen cooks were frying, baking, chopping, stirring, and shouting instructions to each other over the noise. Two of them had already begun garnishing appetizer plates. Steam and smoke came from every direction. Yuri, who had been ignored so far, looked for a work table where fish could be prepared and immediately had luck. In the front right corner, a short, chubby cook with a slight double chin and a cap much too large for him was filleting fresh fish. Time to improvise. Yuri stretched a bit to appear even taller, marched up to the cook and said in a decisive tone:
“Good evening. I’m supposed to get knife from kitchen that is really sharp. Maybe you can help me.” The cook stopped working and looked up at Yuri skeptically. Then he lifted his cap briefly and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.
“And what exactly do you need a sharp knife for, if I may ask?” the cook inquired.
“Was sent by wife of boss, she wants to open many gifts of guests, need sharp knife. Sharpest there is on ship,” Yuri explained. The cook hesitated for a moment, then addressed him in fluent Russian:
“Could it be that you are also from the northern cities? You really have a thick accent.” Yuri was pleasantly surprised to hear the language of his homeland. He immediately recognized the heavy and sluggish dialect of Utopia, his hometown.
“I can’t believe it! You’re from Utopia too, aren’t you? I haven’t met anyone from that far north here in Elysium,” he replied, also in Russian, grinning broadly. The cook, in turn, was excited, introduced himself as Andrej, and the two greeted each other with a handshake. Andrej asked Yuri to wait a moment and returned from the pantry with an unused filleting knife with a brown wooden handle, a bottle of imported vodka, and two small glasses, which he promptly filled and handed to Yuri. The two began chatting about their hometown and emptying the glasses while the chef continued to casually fillet fish. It felt good to be able to talk in their mother tongue again after many months, and the conversation became more entertaining with each sip. Between the fourth and fifth glasses, Yuri discreetly tucked the knife into the inside pocket of his tuxedo. By the eighth glass, the two were drinking in brotherhood, laughing out loud and squiffy, telling each other dirty jokes. The ninth glass was the farewell drink, during which they wished each other a good night, and then the cook staggered to the freezer to get more fish. As Yuri left the kitchen, he realized that he didn’t seem to be able to handle so much alcohol anymore. He hoped he had not forgotten all the American he had so painstakingly acquired in one fell swoop through this enormous intake of high-proof liquor. The ship left North Beach at the same moment he came out of the kitchen. As the engines started, a brief vibration was felt throughout the Sea Lord. The giant staggered through the double doors and patted his tuxedo pocket, where the knife was tucked away, with satisfaction.

Categorized as: Novel 2 (EN) | Novel Chapter (EN)

Comments are disabled on this post