She burst into laughter at the question. “Why do you think anything is up?”
He grinned. “Huh. Let’s see. You normally seem much happier than you have been, you’re always ready to bite someone’s head off, but most of all, I’m reasonably sure I saw you muttering the word ‘die’ over and over as you practiced at the range.”
Her eyes widened in alarm until she realized he was holding laughter back. She smacked him on the arm, and he let the mirth free and she was forced to join in. When the joke had run its course, she sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I suck lately. Too much time spent in my own head. The thing at the prison messed me up for a while, and somehow, everything since has kept me from getting back together.”
Anik split his attention between her and the road. “What can we do to make that better?”
She shrugged. “Time will help, I’m sure. Visiting the range helped. Hanging out is good.” She smiled at him, and he returned it.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m good at giving massages, you know. They are supposed to be very relaxing.”
“Soft pass. Maybe a raincheck? I’m not really in a gentle place at the moment.” He nodded and she cut him off before he could say something about non-gentle options. “Let’s eat there.” She pointed at the restaurant that was well-hidden on one of the side streets, a place specializing in an enormous variety of hot dogs. Her favorite was the Korean with Kimchee and red pepper paste.
They got their orders and sat at a small booth near the window. Anik’s ever-present kindness was soothing, and she told him so. He sighed once and set his half-eaten food down. “Look, Cara, I’m bad at relationships, historically speaking. So, I’ll simply put this out there. When you’re ready, I’d really enjoy discovering if there’s a real thing between us. I feel like there is but that the time is only right for an instant before something gets in the way.”
She set her own food down to give him her full attention. It seemed like he had more to say, so she simply nodded. “Go on.”
“I’m not pushing. I don’t have a timetable here, and heaven knows, you have to be patient in order to work in demolitions.” She laughed and he chuckled with her. “But I don’t want you to think I’m not interested, that’s all. Because I am. Very.”
She bought time with a long, slow sip of her iced tea, then sighed. “Honestly, I had those same thoughts before the prison break. Since then, though, my brain’s been a mess. I don’t know what I think or feel, only that I have to attack it until I break through the junk. But I will and I’m happy that you’re interested in being there when I do.”
He took the hand she stretched toward him. They sat in silence for a few moments until she pulled away. “Okay, enough feelings. Ewwww.”
He laughed. “Right. Boo on feelings. Be tough. Like stone.”
“Like steel.”
“Like diamond.”
Anik groaned. “Okay, you win. But if I can find something harder than diamond, we’ll revisit this conversation.”
She grinned around the bite of Korean vegetables in her mouth. “Deal.”
Despite the nice afternoon with her potential future romantic partner, Cara was glum and moped as she cleaned her already spotless gear until Hank stopped by. That wasn’t particularly noteworthy, as he tended to be in and out at odd hours in general. Upon arriving in town, he’d become involved with a local car restoration and racing group, and they met at seemingly random times based on when they could get access to whatever they needed at that moment—a garage, a race track, a frame bender, or anything else, he’d explained.
She felt his eyes on her as she ran a cleaning rod through the chambers of the Ruger. “What?”
He laughed. “If you clean that any more, you’ll wear it away to nothing.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go build a car or something, will ya?”
“Nah. I have a better thing happening tonight. And based on the way you’ve limped around like a wounded animal lately, I think you should come along. If I hadn’t found you here, I wanted to give you a call.”
She clicked the cylinder closed and turned to face him. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “Nope. First, you agree. Then you find out.”
“What kind of messed up rule is that?”
“My messed up rule.”
She sighed. It’s not like I have better plans for the evening. “Will it require me to talk to anyone?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
She stared at him. “Will I enjoy it?”
“I promise.”
“All right.” She stood. “What should I bring?”
He grinned. “Only your tiny little self.”
She punched him in the arm. “I’m not that small, you know. You’re merely mammoth.”
They drove the half-hour out to one of the city’s less affluent neighborhoods in Hank’s rebuilt Eagle Talon. The original car wasn’t anything amazing, but the man had invested enough love and elbow grease to transform it into something spectacular. The weird miniature stick shift had been replaced by a better version, and the vehicle hummed as he wove it expertly through the back streets.
Finally, they reached their destination and pulled in between the other cars, new and old, and a line of motorcycles. Hank had refused to share any details but based on the vehicles, she was sure she’d feel right at home. As long as it isn’t some kind of alpha-male poetry jam or something. She snorted at the idea of him and poetry coexisting in the same place. It wasn’t that he was dumb. Far from it. He was one of the most intelligent people she knew. He merely tended to live in the physical rather than the metaphysical.
When he pulled the door open to let her pass, the sound of yelling assaulted her ears. She walked into the dilapidated warehouse to find bleachers set up to create a square. A few people were seated there, but more stood and cheered in front of them. The smack of leather on flesh revealed the purpose of the gathering, and she grinned. For the first time in a long while, her heart pumped faster.
Cara turned to see him staring at her, and he grinned in satisfaction. “I knew it.”
“You are a good judge of character, Hank. But how the hell did you find a fight club?”
He shrugged. “There’s a crossover with car people, actually. Thrill-seekers.”
She pushed through the crowd for a view of the people in the middle, both of whom were bigger than she was. One used traditional boxing techniques and the other was kickboxing. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t as fast as his opponent, who would dart in, deliver his blows, and retreat before the kick caught him. She felt Hank slide in against her back and kept her gaze forward but turned her head a little so he could hear her. “House rules?”
He shrugged. “You can fight anyone who’s willing to fight you. No weapons other than the ones you were born with. Eyes and necks are off limits. It ends with surrender or unconsciousness. No killing. No magic.”
“Not even yours?” She chuckled.
He growled before he replied, clearly eager to get into a battle. “Especially mine. That would be a serious abuse of trust in this place.”
Cara nodded. “Does gender matter?”
She caught the shake of his head out of the corner of her eye as the match they watched ended with a knockout. The loser’s skull banged on the mat fairly hard, but there was a medic there immediately. She noticed a vial at his belt with surprise. “He has a healing potion?”
“Yep. Everyone pays to play, and the organizers use the funds to rent the places, pay the doc, and have the potions as a backup plan.” He paused as the next bout was called, then continued. “To your earlier question, only will matters. Gender, sex, sexuality, color, race, ethnicity—not a damn one of them is relevant inside the circle. Only who’s stronger or who’s better.”
She grinned wide. “This is my kind of place.”
He laughed. “Told you.”
She’d watched several rounds, including one where Hank fought a man even bigger than him. The two of them
had battered each other with real enthusiasm, and at the end, it came down to who could absorb more abuse as the exhausted fighters traded punches without even attempting to dodge or block.
Then, finally, it was her turn. She had challenged a tall man who looked a few years younger than her, and he’d accepted without a hint of disrespect. They had chatted for a few minutes, and she’d learned he was an EMT who regularly pulled sixteen-hour shifts to save up to buy a house. He couldn’t relax on his days off because he’d become an action junkie, and cars, fighting, and sex were the only things that worked for him now. Cara had claimed to be a security consultant and shared some of her background.
Hank, now fully conscious again after the judicious application of smelling salts, helped her with the MMA-style gloves. They’d cushion the punches but allow her to grapple and grasp if needed. Her style didn’t depend on it, but she wasn’t fully sure that her opponent’s wouldn’t. He moved like someone with martial arts experience, though, so she was sure he’d be a decent match.
As the fight began and he circled, her grin widened. His experience showed in the way he remained relaxed and his eyes stayed defocused, ready for an attack to occur from anywhere. She launched a slow roundhouse, and when he tried to grab it rather than block it, she yanked it back. He gave her a nod to acknowledge her information-gathering effort and followed it with a charge led with a right hook.
She ducked and spun away from the blow and one leg trailed into a whipped sweep that he skipped over with ease. The expected kick barely missed her back when she darted in the opposite direction from his motion. He’s quick and smart. Excellent. She rose and expected him to circle again, but he’d already pushed in. A front-kick led the way, and she retreated into a fighting stance to let it slide past her. When it dropped, he was close, and she fired two rapid jabs into his ribs. The third deflected from his elbow block. She sensed the incoming reverse punch as he shifted his hips, but it was faster than she’d anticipated and caught her on the ear as she jerked her head aside.
Cara hopped back, her ears ringing. If he’d wanted to kill her, he would have followed through, but he clearly enjoyed the sport and strategy as much as she did. He gave her time to recover before he circled again. There was a purity to the fight as she couldn’t switch to weapons or magic and only had this one thing to think about. It calmed all the voices in her head and allowed her to simply be in the moment.
They made several more passes and exchanged kicks and punches, and while most were blocked, some made it through their defenses. Blood was visible on both combatants. Her opponent had caught her with a heel on a spinning hook kick far faster than any he’d demonstrated previously and opened a cut on her cheek. His lip had split from a headbutt when he’d raised his chin to protect his nose.
He changed tactics completely and lunged directly at her, ready to grapple. She tried to evade but wasn’t quick enough, and he held her in a hug and forced her back to topple her. In an actual battle, she would have chopped him in the throat on the way in or crippled him with a kick to the knee or taken advantage of one of the many other openings for lethal or permanently damaging counters. Here, though, she lost her breath as he landed on top of her and drove his forearm into her solar plexus.
When he grinned, there was no malice in it, only shared energy and excitement. She threw a hook with her free hand, but he ducked under it and the angle prevented her from connecting. The little sparkles at the edge of her vision were welcome friends. Finally, she was able to draw a breath, but by that time, he had her arm in a wicked lock and her legs trapped between his. She gasped the words. “I concede. This time.”
He let her up, and the surrounding crowd replied with a mixture of claps and groans before they were separated by their friends who corralled them in different directions. She looked at Hank, who had a broad grin on his face. “Thanks, man. I needed that.”
“I know you did, and you’re welcome anytime.” He rolled his neck and had an almost lustful look in his eyes. “Now, it’s my turn in the ring again.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rath leapt into space from one of the tallest buildings in the city, sixty-three stories up. Gwen provided a visual display of the air currents for him to use, and he focused on maintaining height and speed as his AI scanned the streets below for trouble. Each time he used the wings, he became better at controlling them, and his patrol partner gathered data so Kayleigh could improve them. The ones he wore were the second iteration, and the improvement from the first was impressive.
The troll banked and spiraled around the top of the newest skyscraper in town, which was also one of the greenest buildings on the planet. He’d initially been confused since the structure looked black and grey and blue, but Diana had explained the alternate meaning. That clarified, he was glad to hear that such things mattered. Small improvements added up. Which is why I’m flying around downtown instead of sleeping. Well, that and because it’s fun.
He had tracked one target in particular for several nights. Pittsburgh wasn’t exactly a hotspot for illegal drug distribution, but there was one person who seemed to be near the top of whatever chain was present. He’d noticed him on multiple occasions, and Gwen had searched through all the information she had access to. There was a strong correlation between acts of gang violence in the city and the man’s presence. Whether he was the direct cause or merely part of an overall increase in aggressiveness that happened when he was in town, he was interesting because of it.
Last time, he had been able to get close enough to tag his mark, and they’d followed him until after sunrise to track his movements. The techs currently worked on upgrading all the city’s surveillance—invisible to the actual owners of the equipment, of course—so they could be used to detect the lightly radioactive substance as well. But, for now, they had to do it the old-fashioned way.
Gwen identified the target on a traffic camera and threw the image up on the right side of his goggles’ display. A map appeared on the other side to indicate the best route to take to reach him. Rath followed it, descended to lower air currents that quickened in the channels created by the tightly packed city structures, and landed in a skid on top of one of the building on the main street heading northeast from downtown. If there was a specific location within the city limits where trouble tended to congregate, this was definitely it. The troll included the area on every patrol because of its popularity with the criminal element.
Below him, the man entered an alley and left his line of sight. Rath dashed across the rooftop and stood at the brink to look at the building opposite him. It was two stories higher than he was. The bricks were rough enough that he could probably climb them but fortunately, he didn’t have to. He raised his arm and triggered the grapnel attached to it. The arrow rocketed to the top of the next structure, the tines deployed, and it latched onto the edge. He activated the winch mounted on his harness and was hoisted up to the top of the other building, where he strode to the lip and looked down.
The target and his underlings stood in a semicircle around another man, with Rath’s target at the center of the group. “Gwen, amplify and isolate.” The sounds in his headphones changed as the AI improved the resolution of what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely better. Need to get Kayleigh to design throwable sticky bug. He eagerly anticipated his initial training session with Lian Chan, and most of his thoughts now turned first to throwing things as a combat option.
His target growled a threat at the huddled figure, who shrank against the wall and seemed for all the world like he tried to crawl through the solid substance. The troll was finally close enough to have a closer look at the man he’d tracked. He wore a dark suit with a grey fedora. The tips of his shoes were barely visible from above, but they reflected the minimal light that filtered into the alley from the street. His voice was gruff and hoarse as if he had to fight to force it out of his throat. “I said you had one last chance, dirtbag. And what did you do? Did you change
your ways and sell the stuff like you promised you would?”
The cringing man said something in protest, and his harasser lashed out and kicked him back against the wall. He dropped to the damp asphalt with a cry of pain. Rath’s target stepped forward to tower over the fallen figure. “No. You locked yourself in your filthy hidey-hole and used it instead, exactly like last time. And for that, you die here tonight. I can’t let the others think I’ve gone soft.” He crouched, careful to keep his trousers from touching the ground, and the words that followed were barely audible. “Plus, you’re a scumbag who pollutes my world with your very existence.”
He rose and dusted his hands off. The troll knew what would come next and leapt into space. It was a five-story drop, but Gwen made it easy and provided an aiming circle and a countdown. He fired the grapnel, it seized the edge of the roof, and the winch slowed his descent so he didn’t hurt himself when he landed. The criminal he struck, however, fared less well. His feet intersected with the back of his neck and drove him face-first into the ground in the same moment that the man in the hat gave the expected order. “Kill him.”
His henchmen were busy dealing with a three-foot gymnast troll, however, and couldn’t obey. After he’d landed on the one farthest to the right, Rath had yanked his batons out and stunned the one beside him to disable him, at least for a while. He’d launched himself into a series of flips to close the distance to the other pair, ignored the boss, and evaded the bullets that they hoped would stop him. When he reached the closest man, he feinted high with his batons, then smashed them into the outsides of his knees. His opponent wailed and fell.
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