Rachel's Dar London Adventure

"Thank you, and goodnight, London!" Rachel Stevens raised her hands to the cheering crowd and took a deep breath, pausing as she took in the atmosphere. She was at the end of a three-month tour of Europe, ending with the big bash in London. She punched the air again and the crowd screamed for her.

The hot lights faded finally, and Rachel moved out the back. She took a bottle of water from her friend Kenji and he fluttered his long eyelashes at her. "Girl if I had half your juice, I swear I'd be on fire!" She smiled and took a long swig of the cool water. Mojo moved up beside her with a clipboard. The lights from the stage flickered across his ebony skin.

"Nice." That was about as rewarding as Mojo got, though Kenji stared at him as if he'd been stabbed and his heart torn out. Rachel's eyes moved to Mac, who smiled and gave her the thumbs up. Mac was the ringleader of her little entourage, the brains and the organisation behind everything.

Kenji was a refugee from fashion school who Rachel had met on a tour through Paris. The two had become fast friends checking out the same guys in the Paris club scene, and had stayed friends. When the time came for Rachel to leave, Kenji came with. Mojo was assigned to her through her American recording company.

Mojo was a huge bodyguard/watchdog, with a perpetual frown that was three-quarters fake. Rachel had become friends with him after three years, through necessity if nothing else. Mojo seemed able to find the best, safest clubs around any area they were in, and knew of the not-so-safe ones as well.

Mac and Rachel had grown up together. When Rachel split from S Club 7, Mac had followed and become her tour manager. She also tried to act as Rachel's voice of reason when the clubbing and stress-release got out of control, though she did have a well-hidden wild side herself.

"Hey, Mojo, what would it take to let me go out and let off a little steam tonight? The tour's over, we fly back day after tomorrow, what do you say?" Mojo grunted and then there was a glimmer behind his dark glasses.

"'Ere's a club not far. Domino's." Rachel shook her head as Mac came over and handed her a towel. Rachel patted it over her body and began to make her way to her dressing room.

"I've heard about it. I want to go some place I can really let my hair down, some place wild. Just for one night. I haven't gone anywhere in three months. Mac?" Mac stretched and glanced at Kenji, whose eyes had gone wide. "Spill it, guys, you two know a place?"

Kenji gave Mojo a sidelong glance. "Actually kitten, I was talking to some of our protective candy and he was telling me that there's a really hot night spot called Merlin's Cave. It's supposed to be a hardcore rave and open to just about anything."

Mojo crossed his arms in front of him and shook his head once. "No. It's not a hardcore rave. It's a Yakuza den that's a lot more hardcore than it is rave. I can't let you do that, Miss Stevens." Rachel threw the towel down as she opened up her dressing room door.

"Well that's good to know. Get your gear, Mojo. You just described exactly the kind of place I need right now." Mojo opened his mouth to protest, and Rachel defiantly slammed the door shut.

********

The club was packed, and music was pounding through the room when they got there. Rachel wore a fluorescent green wig, and reflective glasses, just in case anyone had been to the concert. There was a large cage on the bottom level of the room, and a spiral above, looking almost like pictures of the Colosseum that Rachel remembered from history classes.

They were only in the room for a few minutes when a young, dangerously sexy looking Japanese man made his way over to them and bowed. Rachel smiled at him and something moved behind his dark glasses.

"Miss Stevens, I presume? Your people have been here several times since your arrival." He had perfect English, and Rachel found herself smiling invitingly at him.

"Well-spotted Mr...?" The young man preened himself and bowed again.

"D.C. Mikado. I am one of the organisers of this establishment. I trust your presence here will remain anonymous. We do not exactly operate within the constrictions of the law at the present time." Rachel grinned at him and slid her glasses down to give him a naughty wink.

"What exactly is it that you DO do here, Mr. Mikado?" DC shrugged.

"We are simply responding to the demand with the supply, Miss Stevens. Please, call me DC. May I offer you a line of credit for our betting tables?" Rachel glanced back at Mac and Kenji, who were shaking their heads, and Mojo, who was detirminedly looking around for an exit.

"I get the feeling we won't be staying long, DC. What's the going rate, and what's the bet for?" DC shrugged.

"There are several options," he began, leading her away towards the tables. "You may be on winning, of course. But also on survival, time, anything you could bet on, you CAN be on." Rachel nodded and pulled her glasses down again.

"Why don't you buy me a drink, DC, and we'll talk about that, then?" DC smiled as she handed him two thousand dollars. "And put this down to win. What am I betting on?" DC's glasses flashed in the darkness of the club as lights began to flash around the cage.

"It's known as Gladiotorix, Miss Stevens. Modern day gladiators fight it out for survival and money. It's about to start."

The music slowed and Rachel looked to the cage. There were five young men in the cage, warming up. They all wore combinations of green and white, and stared nervously at the entrance. A heavy rock music began to play, and the crowd cheered. Money was being thrown around and Mikado was smiling.

"Which fighter did I bet on?" Mikado smiled at her and pointed to the entrance as another fighter came through the curtain. His chest was bare, and scarred along his shoulders and left arm, and he wore only jeans and runners. He had a streak of face-paint down the left right side of his face, and stared out at the crowded ring.

An announcer walked up beside him and lifted his hand, and the crowd screamed in approval as the announcer lifted a microphone to his mouth. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give to you the insatiable killing machine that is the one, the only, ICEMAN!!!" More cheer sounded as the Iceman made his way down to the cage.

The five guys in the ring bounced up and down on their heels nervously, until Rachel's fighter stepped inside the ring. The first one charge before the door was shut, and the crowd screamed its approval. Iceman pivoted sharply, driving his elbow down onto the charging man's knee and then jerking upwards, hitting his chin with a thick fist.

The first fighter spun away and was replaced by three more. The Iceman began to defend himself, taking the occasional hit, but lashing out and blasting away at the others far more viscously. The middle man struck out with his leg, but Iceman grabbed hold of him and swung, lashing out his foot to knock the jaw out of another of his challengers.

Iceman slammed the man in his arms into the unforgiving steel of the cage hard, and the man slumped to the floor. The last two joined in, making the three solid once more. They moved cautiously, well aware that to charge in recklessly was to be soundly beaten.

Iceman breathed steadily then sidestepped as the youth behind him lunged for him. He tripped his opponent coolly and then heaved him into another, and his body jerked out, exploding in motion as his thick arm blasted into the throat of the standing youth in a large lariat, slamming the boy to the ground.

Rachel was staring in rapture as the man in jeans destroyed his competition. Mikado was frowning as he stared into the ring angrily, and Rachel moved off from his side. He glanced at her, then back to the ring.

Iceman was fending off the simultaneous punches and kicks of the last two fighters. One of them lashed out a foot desperately in a hopping kick, and Iceman gave a chilling smile as he snagged the flailing foot and then kicked out with his own, blasting the poor man back at least ten fee, heel to groin.

The last young man was Asian, and he frantically looked around for his friends to help him. Someone threw a broken bottle into the ring, and he picked it up and gave a loud yell. The crowd screamed as Iceman smashed away the charging boy's arm and the bottle shattered against the cage.

The young man looked back just as Iceman's hand slammed into the boy's throat and lifted him clear off his feet. The boy kicked vainly against his assailant's unflinching chest and hips, and hit his elbow and forearm. The older fighter lowered him slowly and began to squeeze, then brought his free hand back across in a stinging slap to the young boy's face, then reared back with a raised fist.

The crowd cheered as Iceman punched the Asian youth in the face again and then let him fall to the floor. He stood up tall and stared out to where Mikado was sitting and punched his open palm several times. The crowd cheered and yelled as Rachel moved through the people, Kenji and Mojo trailing behind.

Rachel opened the door to the cage and held out a hand as the man moved to the side, staring back at Mikado and the rest of the Yakuza wannabes. Her chest was moving quickly as she panted, excited in a perverse, base way by the violence.

"Wow, that was something back there, Mister...Mr Iceman?" The fighter didn't answer, just grabbed a jacket from beside the door and threw it around his shoulders. He stared down at Rachel, who was looking at him with bright, lustrous eyes. Mac moved beside her, her hands full of money, and the star hugged her friend.

"I think you need to get out of here. I've just won when I should have lost, and that means that we're all dead here. I shouldn't have goddamned done that." Rachel looked up from hugging Mac and frowned. She glanced at Mojo, who shrugged, not understanding either.

"We're only here for Miss Stevens relaxation, we've no beef with anyone around here." Iceman began to push them towards the door as fighting erupted and commotions began to appear all over the club. Mikado stood up and pointed to Rachel's group, and the fighter snarled back at Mojo as the Yakuza began pulling out guns.

"You're quite the fucking idiot, man. What's your deal, huh? A ninety-pound girl orders you to do something and you do it? You don't have to bash over the head, just say no." Rachel grabbed hold of his arm roughly.

"Hey, pal, if you've got a problem, then maybe you should..." He shrugged his arm out of her grip and turned back to Mojo.

"Curb her yap, Robocop. Or I'll do it for you." Rachel slapped him, and fire burst in her eyes as she glared up at his tall frame.

"Listen, pal, I'm in charge of him, okay, not the other way around. What's the problem?" Iceman shook his blond hair and ran a hand over his head as the elevator clanged open and they moved out to the car park.

"My problem, miss, is you. What the fuck kind of business does a pop-tart chick like you have in a Yakuza den? You couldn't have done worse. Those guys up there didn't just lose the fight, girl, they lost over a hundred grand in there. They're not honourable samurai, girl, they're street punks with delusions of grandeur that want to be Yakuza."

"So to cut a long story less long, they'll kill you before they have to pay, because it's cheaper. And my name's Wes, not fucking Iceman, okay?" Rachel stared at him as they ran through the concrete paved building and came to a black and silver Skyline.

"But I'm famous." Wes grabbed her and threw her into the passenger seat as Mojo, Mac and Kenji slunk into the back seat.

"You'll be dead, honey, if you don't shut up and belt up. We've got to get out of here." Gunfire erupted around the car, and the others screamed. Several Mercedes Benz roared into motion as Wes slammed the Skyline into gear and the tyres squealed in protest as they began to scream over the concrete. They were soon out onto the streets, and the darkness had crowded in on them quickly.

Gunfire erupted behind them again, and bullets slammed into the sleek body of the car. Wes snarled wordlessly as he turned the wheel and gunned it. They blasted along towards the highway, and were coming up on it at a ninety-degree angle as Wes weaved through the traffic.

Kenji, Mojo and Mac all gave loud screams, and Rachel wondered for a second why she wasn't screaming herself as she realised that they were headed right for two trucks coming along the highway. The trucks were travelling far too fast to slow down in time, and more bullets thudded into the back of the car, eliciting more screams from the back seat.

"We're not going to make it!" screamed Mojo, as Wes swerved to the outside lane and gunned the engine, which roared in high-pitched approval.

"We're not going to fucking make it!" screeched Kenji as the car turned sideways and slid out onto the highway.

"We're gonna fucking die!" squealed Mac as the first truck blared it's horn, barely missing them as Wes slid the car behind it's tailgate. Rachel screamed loudly as he slammed the car down a gear and they lurched forwards, right in front of the second truck.

The driver of the truck punched his horn out several times in protest as bullets sprayed into the side of the cabin, and Wes slammed the gearstick down into the top gear and they raced away. There was absolute silence in the car, then Rachel looked at Wes.

He had a tiny smile on his face, then let out a small chuckle. "That was close. Fun though." Rachel looked back into the back seat at her friends, and weakly smiled at them. Mojo was looking up and praying while Mac was doing her best to catch her breath. Kenji stared straight ahead, then crossed his legs.

She turned back to Wes who tapped the GPS screen on the front dash. "Approaching turn-off from Highway 19 out of London Central, Mr Majors." Wes glanced at the screen again, then looked back in the mirror.

"We'll be fine here for a bit. We'll turn off, and head to the Manor. My family's got a large estate out there. Everyone okay?" Nobody answered and Rachel gave a shaky laugh.

"Nobody's hurt, and we're all alive if that's what you mean. Where'd you learn to drive like that? And where did you learn to fight like that? And how does your family have a house here in London if you're American? And what the fuck is going on?!?!" Her smile was gone as Wes looked in the rear vision mirror and growled.

"Not the time, princess. We've still got company." Headlights brightened and shone through the back window as a car raced up behind them, on the verge of losing control. The GPS beeped at them and the synthesised female voice informed them that in fifty meters they should turn right.

The car behind them swerved out into traffic and accelerated towards them, and Wes grinned tightly as flicked the lights off and swung the steering wheel down. The car swung to the right in a tight arc, narrowly missing the barriers leading back onto the highway, and they continued on as Wes flicked the lights back on.

No headlights followed them anymore as they sped off down the road. Rachel felt her chest burning as her heart raced, and felt herself getting hot from all the adrenalin and excitement. Something about the danger turned her on immensely, and she cleared her throat and crossed her legs.

Wes's eyes darted down and he shifted in his seat, and Rachel smiled to herself as she imagined his cock hardening in his pants. She blinked. Not ten minutes ago, she hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. What had happened? A life and death experience altered you, apparently. Now she couldn't slow her pulse, or her excitement.

They continued on down the road for a bit, and Wes pressed the button on the dash next to the GPS, and it folded back into the console. "That's the turn-off back there that I normally come out on. We'll be at the manor in about fifteen minutes." The others murmured at him and then an amber light came on in the HUD.

Wes frowned as he glanced down. "Need some fuel first. Won't take long." The others were silent as they pulled into a fuelling station and Wes got out. Rachel followed him and stood beside him as he talked to the old man in the petrol-smelling overalls who leered at her. Wes glared at him and the old man slunk off into the office, Wes's money tucked into his pocket.

Rachel put her hand on Wes's arm as he turned to go back to the car. "Look, thank you. I'm sorry about... about being an idiot, and then a bitch, and the... well, just so you know, I'm sorry, Wesley." He stared at her, then held out his hand. She shook it gravely, and he gave her a slight smile.

"Please, Miss Stevens, call me Wes. Rachel?" She nodded and turned back to the car, her cheeks flushed as the feeling of touching him. Wes cleared his throat and was about to say something when there was a popping sound and a shower of gravel as two Mercedes pulled up.

Wes shoved Rachel to the ground as the cars emptied their pissed-off passengers out into the street. Mikado leapt out and snarled, barking at his men in Japanese. He pulled a gun out of his suit and pointed it down at Rachel, who screamed.

The Skyline rocked as Mojo struggled to get out, and Mac and Kenji were right behind him. Mikado's men put away their pistols and began to pull knives and clubs out of their suits. "A stray knife-wound or club will not explode a tanker of fuel, Iceman, and that is the only reason you yet live. A situation about to be rectified. Get him!"

The thugs charged in, and Wes had a tight grin on his face as he began to fight. Mojo knocked one man down, and received a smash across the wrist from a bat for his efforts. He staggered back and Kenji leapt forwards to defend his friend, but was battered away.

Rachel screamed for help to come as Wes began to unload, knocking away thugs left and right with seemingly little difficulty. Mikado watched the action with a growing expression of worry as the fighting champion killed or wounded many of his best men without breaking a sweat. One of them was battered to the ground and his knife went skittering away towards Rachel, who screamed.

As the last man fell, Mikado swung the gun from Rachel to Wes and cursed in Japanese. Wes froze and lifted his hands up, waiting for the shot that didn't come. Mikado blinked, then looked down at his chest, and the metal blade sticking out of him.

He turned and looked at Rachel quizzically, while she stared at her blood-covered fingers. They sank to their knees at the same time, but Mikado blinked confusedly and fell to the side. Wes moved to Rachel's side and hauled her into the car. She didn't stop staring at her hands, and didn't pay much attention as they blasted through the streets.

Blue and red police lights shone through the window, and she looked up. The sky was thick and dark with storm clouds, and Kenji, Mojo and Mac were silent in the back. Mojo nursed a sprained wrist, and Kenji's face was black and purple already. Mac seemed unhurt, just frozen in shock.

They moved out past the small town and then turned off into a dirt road. They came to a large stone gate, with an ornate metal fence and a keypad by the side of the driveway. Wes rolled down the window and punched the keys, rolling the window back up against the chill as they moved through the gates.

They drove along for a bit until they came to a large manor house, and Wes pulled up at the front door. They filed out numbly and followed him in. Mojo, Kenji and Mac all took rooms at the bottom floor, leaving Rachel the master bedroom. Wes showed her in, then left to settle the others.

Rachel sat on the bed for a minute, then got up and went to the bathroom. She stared at the reflection, her hollow looking eyes and sickly pallor. Her top was covered in blood, and she suddenly felt revolted. She went to the toilet and threw up, then tore off her clothes.