War God for Hire- Gladiator by David Burke (books under 200 pages .TXT) 📕

did not feel himself. He was leaking blood from his body and divine essence from his soul. He cast his vision out into the multiverse and found a like-minded soul.

A mortal, of course. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to work. Live to fight another day.

Chapter 1 - Grim Beginnings

Kyle was shocked by the sudden rush of cold over his head and down his back. It drenched him from the top of his head to the bottom of his jersey in an instant. A Gatorade bath was a long-standing sports tradition. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, but the reporter’s blue eyes were so captivating. It almost seemed a crime to allow such a beautiful woman into the locker room.

That was the way of things, though. This was where the story was. Winning the World Series six times in a row was the stuff of legends. He couldn’t help but grin even while soaking wet, thinking about it. Kyle had already gotten the text from his agent saying how his phone was already going crazy with offers. Kyle was a free agent now and at the top of his game.

Leading any team to a World Series victory in four games was gonna make anyone a hero, but he was the man the fans credited with six World Series wins in a row. It was a world record and the Chicago fans were not likely to forget this.

Kyle mused to himself that he had likely surpassed Michael Jordan and Mike Ditka for the title of the greatest sports figure in Chicago history. The best part, he was only thirty years old. Kyle felt on top of the world, and he still had the rest of his life in front of him.

His agent swore he could get a ten-year contract worth over $600 mil. And why not? Kyle was the first guy to bat over .400 for a full season in more than a generation. That, and what the press called a ‘rocket of an arm’ from third base, and ‘lightning-fast feet’ on the base path.

For all the voices that accused him of being dirty, doping, or cheating in any way, Kyle had always scoffed. Cheating stole the joy of victory, and he loved winning more than anything else. He just worked harder than the others, and that chafed them.

Hell, he loved winning more than money, more than a string of casual girlfriends, more than going out. There wasn’t really anything that compared to the rush, not that having money hurt either, though.

It didn’t get better than this, but the October wind was cold in Chicago. It didn’t care who you were, it cut through a jacket and reminded Kyle that he hadn’t fully dried his hair. It definitely made him grateful for a designated parking spot in the deck behind the new Wrigley Field. Thinking about that made him muse about how maybe someday the stadium would be renamed after him. It never hurt to dream big.

That was when he heard her.

“Kyle?” asked a feminine voice. “Kyle Hudson?”

He turned to see a drop dead gorgeous brunette walking towards him. Her breath was visible in the cold air, but he was more drawn to her killer legs. He had always been a leg man. She was trembling, and for a moment he thought something was wrong.

“Yes, that’s me. But how did you get down here? This is supposed to be players and staff only. Not that I’d mind taking you to dinner,” Kyle said. It wasn’t as smooth as it could have been but then again, when you were the world champ, you didn’t have to work very hard to pick up girls.

Rage, raw and unadulterated, flashed across her face. “I knew it. You don’t even remember me. You pompous, self-important bastard! I should have known better than to let you come back to my place. But you talk such a good game.” She was practically shrieking at him.

Over the years, Kyle had learned that there was only one way to deal with a woman like this. Maybe he had gone out with her. Maybe they had ended up back at her place. But there was no way that he could be expected to remember all the fans who followed him around. Hell, if they had even half an idea of what some women sent to him in the mail…

Best to try to end this as quickly as possible. Tonight was a night for basking in the win. The one game that he could walk away from and not have to immediately start preparing for the next. He didn’t want this dragging it down.

“I’m sorry for whatever you think it is I’ve done. Now, I recommend you find your way out of here, because when I drive out, I’m gonna let security know you are down here.”

Kyle tried to say it calmly. He didn’t want to show his frustration, but she had just seriously ruined his vibe. Now, he probably was gonna just go home, instead of out to a party.

“Just walk away,” he muttered to himself. “This isn’t worth it.”

As he turned to get into his Tesla, Kyle felt a sharp pain in his back. Even when he reflected on it years later, Kyle still swore that he felt that burning pain even before he heard the gun fire.

His mind started to wander. He remembered being hit in the back once by a Johnny Lawrence, 106 mile per hour fastball. That had hurt. This was beyond that. In fact, it was so bad that he almost didn’t even feel the pain.

That was probably just shock setting in. Shock at the injury. Shock at the fact that this could happen to him. Shock at falling from on top of the world to the gutters.

Looking down at himself, Kyle saw blood blossom on the front of his favorite Nirvana t-shirt. “Dammit,” was the thought that went through his head, but the bullet must have hit his spine because he