The Green Ones

Episode 4, Part 6

I enter the room ahead of Neca. Three men are talking near the far wall, Yetic on the way out.

He raises a brow when he sees me. “Come to join the winning side?”

I roll my eyes and step aside, ensuring his sweaty body doesn’t brush up against mine. He and Neca pass each other in the doorway without comment.

Neca stops as soon as he enters, his snarl now a frown. “Huemac, since when do you attend fight day physicals?”

I follow his gaze across the room. It’s obvious which one must be Huemac. One of the men is dressed in a doctor’s frock. The one who yelled at Neca moments earlier is wearing a sweat-ringed undershirt. The last man is well dressed in a colorful tilmàtli.

“Since Huehue skipped town, that’s when. Not that it’s any of your business.” Spotting me, the new boss does a double take. “Since when do you bring your,” he points with his chin, “companion to a physical?”

I don’t like the way he stresses the word companion, but at least he has refrained from labeling me a yoalzoah—a trespass that would have required me to break his nose.

Neca moves toward a metal table. “Trust me, I didn’t bring her. She goes where she pleases.”

I smile and nod my agreement.

Huemac smirks, “My kind of woman,” before turning on me, “now get the hell out.”

I narrow my eyes, sizing Huemac up. Physically, he’s much more imposing than Centavo. While the two men appear similar in age, Huemac’s not immortal. He’s a regular guy in his fifties. My parents taught me to respect my elders, but if it comes down to it, I’ll kick this one’s butt.

Neca lifts himself onto the table and rolls his shoulder straps down to his waist. “Save yourself the trouble, and let’s just get on with the physical.”

Huemac shifts his gaze from me to Neca, trying to judge the seriousness on the fighter’s face.

Neca doesn’t blink. “There’s a chance you might physically remove her, but you could kiss that tilmàtli goodbye at the very least. And more than likely we’d have to fish your totoltetls out of your body cavity. You know, after we removed her foot.”

For added effect I curl my lips into a snarl.

“I don’t have time for this.” Huemac throws up his hands. “Doc?”

The doctor snaps his gloves in place as he approaches the table.

Taking a seat near the door, I decide to stare at Huemac the entire time for two reasons. First, it keeps me from seeing parts of the physical examination I’d never be able to erase. Second, it seems to rattle him.

The more straightforward aspects of the exam proceed as expected. The doctor speaks his findings out loud throughout the procedure while the sweaty man, presumably the fight manager, records it all in a book. Muscle tissue is found to be healthy, reflexes normal, eyes and ears normal. Neca turns his head and coughs.

The doctor retreats. “Physical examination complete, no abnormalities of note.”

Just when I’m beginning to wonder if that’s everything, the doctor opens a large drawer and removes a strange-looking helmet. Returning to the table, he places the helmet on Neca’s head.

For the first time since entering the gym, Neca shifts uncomfortably.

The doctor moves in front of a computer terminal. Punching a few buttons, he continues in a deadpan voice, “Starting psychic exam.”