by Logan Jacobs
“What do you mean, Havak,” she said mischievously as she slammed a hard fist where a face would be, “you are this guy at the moment.”
I stared at her for a beat and then pointed my finger back at myself with a “who? Me?” expression on my face.
She continued in a fluid series of blocks and strikes as sweat glistened off her muscular frame. For training like this she wore nothing but spandex shorts and a sports bra. It made me feel a strange mixture of scared and horny.
“Wonderful strikes, Nova,” Grizz told her with a nod as he watched near the control console for the room. “And your transition to blocking has increased in speed point four sevenths of a second.”
“Hey! So you compliment her, but not me?” I whined playfully.
“Some champions need the carrot,” Grizz began while motioning to Nova, “and others need the stick. A very large, often swung stick.” Grizz looked at me with narrowed eyes. “On that note.” He made a button press motion into thin air and suddenly it felt like my weight vest had at least another ten pounds.
“It’s so heavy.” I groaned as I tried to pull myself up, and my muscles screamed with every fraction of an inch.
“Do you need more stick, Marc?” Grizz asked as he eyed me carefully. “Because if you need more stick, I’ll give you more stick.”
“In. Too. Much. Pain. To. Laugh,” I eked out as I grabbed the pull-up bar and slowly pulled myself up.
“Trillium Vou liked me okay,” I said as I finally completed my first rep. Then I collapsed flat on my back. My muscles felt like hot acid had been injected into them.
“Amazing what the public finds entertaining these days,” he grumbled and shook his head. “When you can bullseye a Farnel hen from twenty yards while doing that one handed, we will speak of the Death Games, and not a moment before. Understand?”
“Yeah, I got it. We’re going full on Dragon Ball Z,” I wheezed, and even though it felt like an impossible sisyphean task, I knew I was going to have to find a way to do it. For Grizz. “When are we going to turn the gravity level up to one hundred times?”
“Six months, if you make it that long, human,” he said without missing a beat. “Artemis, look into what gravity level Marc’s weak human body can currently withstand.”
“On it!” Artemis called back as she began to type on her computer.
“Ah, you whore monger!” Aurora’s sultry voice came from the shooting range where she was in the middle of some rapid fire and magazine change drills. A half full pulsar pistol clip clattered to the floor. Aurora had gotten by so far on her ability to siphon energy from others, usually ending in their death, and her dark matter powers but Grizz wanted her to become adept at using firearms as well as some melee weapons. If for some reason her powers ever failed her or were somehow blocked on the battlefield, she’d be a sitting duck. As graceful as she was she handled guns about as deftly as a baby chimp.
“Argg,” she growled, “these weapons are clumsy and barbaric! Why can I not just blast them to bits with concentrated dark matter?”
“Now, Aurora, we have been over this several times,” Grizz cajoled in an almost sing song voice. He had a big soft spot for the space vampiress. “While your natural gifts are a boon to you and your teammates, if one relies on them too much they become a liability and not an asset. And you are quite the asset, Ms. Starfall. A well rounded warrior can use any weapon at their disposal. I have no doubt you will take to firearms as well as you have to putting up with Havak’s chicanery.”
“Hey, why are my rights being read,” I said from under the pull-up bar. I turned my head and saw Aurora smile as she picked up the fallen pulsar pistol clip and slam it home into the butt of the gun.
“Oh, Grizz,” she cooed, “you know just how to motivate a lady to new heights.”
She flicked the safety off the pistol and with a double fisted grip squeezed off three quick shots. Crackling bolts of pulsed red energy flew down range and blasted the heads off three targets about fifteen feet away from her. She then languidly blew smoke from the barrel, twirled the gun lazily on her index finger like Doc Holiday, and slid it into the holster at her hip.
“Well done, Aurora!” Grizz called out to her and clapped like a proud parent.
“Thank you, sugar,” she replied and glanced at Nova. “I’m starting to see why you like these, dear. Holding one in your hand and feeling it pulse and buck? It’s intoxicating.”
Before I could make a snide comment, a loud alarm began to sound and lights flashed from the ceiling of the gym. A flash match. Great.
“Fifteen minutes, everyone!” Grizz commanded. “I will be happier when we are a higher tier alliance and will get more notice before flash matches. It will make it easier for everyone to survive.”
“Aww, I love you too, Grizz,” I said as I let out a breath as an air of seriousness set in among our group as we all began our pre-match rituals. Nervousness had been replaced by a type of heady anticipation. My stomach still twisted into knots, and my brain ran through a million scenarios about how I was going to die a horrible death but it was no longer fueled by blind fear.
I knew I was going to have no idea what to expect but at least I knew I wasn’t going to know and that held a sort of peace. Don’t get me wrong, adrenaline still flowed, hearts raced, and palms still got sweaty, but it was familiar now. I’d been down this road and come out the other side. Hell, part of me had actually started to think that I was good at this. That whatever alien overlords had chosen me might have actually known what the fuck they were doing.
“I do like you, Havak.” Grizz looked at me as I laced up my trusty combat boots and packed some field medical equipment into a few of the cargo pouches that were on my jumpsuit. “If I didn’t, you would have been dead long ago.”
“Well, on that cheery note, we should suit up,” I said. I had a flicker of a thought that I’d kind of stepped into a team leader role without even realizing it. “Artie, any intel on what this match is or are we going in blind again?”,
Artemis jumped into her “command chair”, as she had started to call it as of late, and punched up some details on this particular flash match.
“All that I have up at the moment is that it’s a sandbox battlefield,” she paused as she downloaded some more information. “Light body armor and one firearm each will be allowed. Power ups and loot crates will be dropped during the match. That’s it so far.”
“All right kiddies, stop your grinnin’ and drop your linen,” I announced with visions of Colonial Marines in my head, “make sure your armor is charged, and your weapon is ready to rock-and-roll. Regroup in ten to talk gameplan. And… break!”
I was shocked at how easily the squad leader had come just then. Maybe there was some method to Grizz’s madness, and the training had started to take hold.
Aurora, Nova and I all stepped up to our automated equipment lockers which were only about five feet from each other with mine in the middle.
Nova punched in a few numbers into the small keypad that was on the side of the high tech cabinet and within seconds had slunk into her skin tight body stocking and began to click her Paladinian body armor into place. It was pearl white with blue piping and covered her calves, forearms, thighs, pelvis and chest.
When she clicked her utility belt into place, the blue piping began to pulse with energy. I was surprised when her trusty plasma cannon didn’t slam home on its counterbalanced tension arm at her waist.
Instead she grabbed a futuristic looking machine gun that reminded me of a US issue Squad Automatic Weapon. It looked heavy as hell but she slung it around as if it were a .22 caliber turkey shooter. It took large, drum shaped ammo containers, and she clipped three of them to her belt and took a fourth and shoved it into the magazine well on the gun, then racked back the arming rod. It slammed home with a loud click. Then she turned to me and smiled.
“I thought I’d travel light today,” she said, her voice low in her throat and full of potential violence, w
hich on her was dead sexy. “What do you say, Havak? Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”
“Yup,” I said. “An armor piercing bee.”
“You two get a room,” Aurora teased from the locker to my right. Her idea of armor was Fredericks’ of Hollywood inspired starting with a corset bustier made from a kind of tactical mesh that cinched her waist and pushed her breasts up and gave her a drop-dead classic hourglass figure. It was apparently also bulletproof. She wore a matching pair of boy shorts made from the same material that had garters built into them that kept her thigh-high stockings in place. The stockings were a sheer fabric that, you guessed it, were made from the same material as her top. Calf length combat boots with chunky soles finished out her lower half.
And, as always, she had on her hooded, dark black, almost floor length cloak with the blood red lining that would curl around her body as if it were alive. She velcroed on a pair of worn leather driving style gloves before she belted on the gunbelt she had worn during training. Her right gloves index finger was missing, and her slender, alabaster white finger protruded. She twirled the pulsar pistol on said finger a few times before she slid it home in the holster.
“Let’s see if I can put this peashooter to some use this time ‘round,” Aurora drawled as she loaded a few clips into pouches on her gun belt.
So as not to gawk like a noob while Aurora had suited up I’d keyed in my own code and pulled up my load out for this round.
I slapped on a pair of sleek, black forearm guards that reminded me of skateboarding pads complete with elbow protection only lighter, stronger, and which had the ability to emit foot and a half diameter energy shields for short bursts. I went with a medium weight combat vest that could absorb a fair amount of kinetic energy before it lost its integrity and would protect against most small arms fire and a few bladed weapons. On top of that. I wore a web harness bandolier that could carry eight fully loaded magazines for my baby. I almost heard a chorus of death angels sing a hymn when the locker presented her to me.
The Eradicator.
The sleek, dark silver rifle that looked like a cross between something out of Mass Effect and an M41A from Aliens but on a diet. It was the first weapon I’d used during my ‘calibration round’ not three hours after I’d been told I was Earth’s champion when I’d found myself on an alien moon inhabited by demon possessed reanimated corpses that made Doom 2016 look like Animal Crossing. Artemis and I had to blast our way off that hellish rock and the Eradicator took on the job with gusto. I hadn’t had an opportunity to bust her back out since then.
I took the well balanced rifle from the locker and clipped its built in tactical sling to my vest which allowed the high powered weapon to hang comfortably at my left side when it wasn’t in my hands. Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d taken one of the magazines full of incendiary rounds from my harness and slapped it into the mag well of the rifle and felt it hum to life ready to deal death with the squeeze of the trigger.
“Hmmm, groovy,” I growled to no one in particular as I saw the round counter on the top of the rifle count up to one hundred and eighty.
Then the three of us strode back over to where Grizz and Artemis had huddled at the command console. Grizz looked up and gave us a stern once over. Then he gave a rare smile full of violent pride.
“Excellent choices everyone,” he said with a nod of his head.
“Yes, excellent choices,” a low, sultry female voice said next to my right ear. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I spun around to see Fallon standing next to me, her cat eyes barely six inches from my face, like she was part of the team. Nova and Aurora were just as startled. Aurora had the pulsar pistol in hand and Nova pulled her heavy rifle to her shoulder and trained it on the feline gangster.
“Holy shit!” I yelled in spite of myself.
“Hello, Marc. Long time…” she purred, and her whiskers twitched as her lips twisted into a pleased smile. “Did I scare you all? I’m so sorry.”
“Who is this intruder, Marc? And should I riddle her flea-bitten body with bullets?” Nova said in a voice that meant business.
“Not yet,” I responded. “Everyone, this is Fallon. Mr. Irrus’ right hand, ninja cat? Fallon, this is everyone, and their guns.”
“Ladies, charmed.” She purred. “Do you all want to frisk me?”
The way she said frisk made it sound like another F word that under normal circumstances I would have jumped all over the opportunity to witness.
“How may we help you, Fallon?” Artemis chimed in from where she stood behind her computer. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell she held a short range taser rod in her left hand held out of sight of the frisky female feline.
“Is no one going to ask how this sneaky Kaunchhmarvian female was able to get into our private training room?” Grizz nearly bellowed. He was highly agitated.
“A cat never tells,” Fallon answered with a sly smile. “You should remember that.”
Everyone, as if on cue, slowly turned to look at Grizz whose holographic face turned bright red.
“Er, um, why are you here Kaunchveet?” Grizz stammered then nearly spit out the last word.
“Ouch,” Fallon said in mock hurt, “I would have thought slurs to be beneath the Great Grizz. But, I don’t have much more time for the kitty cat games. I came because I have dire news about the upcoming match. Since you denied Irrus his offer he’s become obsessed with making you, all of you, pay dearly.”
“Jesus!” I exclaimed more than a touch exasperated. “We’ve got like, ten minutes before the match starts. Say what you have to say Fallon.”
“Very well,” she said, and her posture changed subtly, her tail curled almost defensively around her torso. “Your friend, and ally, PoLarr is going to die in today’s match unless you do something about it.”
“What?” I challenged. “That is absurd. PoLarr isn’t even a champion.”
I could hear clicking from the command console as Artemis accessed her database.
“Oh heated sugar, milk, and butter confection that looks like poo,” Artemis exhaled. “She’s right. Tartarus Major was inducted into the Crucible four days ago. Before the Ozusti could name a champion, PoLarr volunteered as tribute.”
“Hold the fucking Hunger Games!” I nearly yelled. “Is that legal?”
“Yes,” Grizz and Artemis responded in unison.
“Well, okay,” I stammered, “so what’s the big deal? PoLarr is a freaking Val’ Keerye, a damn Death Angel, she’ll be more than fine.”
“Irrus has put a bounty on her head,” Fallon responded with resignation. “Five boosts of an incredibly high value for the one who brings down PoLarr, and any who assist will also receive compensation. Sixteen boosts total as a reward. Each of which is valuable enough to all, but will ensure her death. The kind of money he is spending is insane.”
“Poo like sugar, milk and butter confection indeed.” I blurted.
“Guys, you need to see this!” Artemis said from her console as the roster for the upcoming arena match appeared on the wall. It was a sixteen man deathmatch where the last four standing would win, and had pictures of me, Nova, Aurora, and a bunch of other champions. Some were grouped together while others were clearly alone and un-allianced. “Well…well she’s PoLarr,” I laughed as I tried to reassure myself. “She’ll survive for sure. I can’t see her ever being taken down by the schmucks in there. Hell, I have a memory, or she has a memory, or however the hell the Soul Gaze works, of her standing off against a whole army and winning.”
“PoLarr is a great warrior,” Grizz agreed with me. “But each of the champions is worth an army. Especially with boosts and powerups and who knows what weaponry, not to mention environmental dangers.”
“It is that very Soul Gaze that has put her in Irrus’ sights,” Fallon said as she moved closer to the group, her tawny fur seemed to ripple across her body as she moved. “Irrus’ information network is vast and highly accurate. In fact you are all in some form
of danger. Irrus fights hard and he fights dirty. He knows you cannot be bought now, so he will use other tactics to get what he wants.”
“Your boss is a real peach, darling,” Aurora said as she countered Fallon’s move to keep her on the outskirts of our band of misfits.
“External or internal,” Fallon said as her left ear flicked in annoyance, “we all have our masters, don’t we, Aurora?”
The tattoos that ran across Aurora’s pale white skin blazed bright blue, and her fingers tightened on the grip of her pistol. Purple tendrils of dark matter energy teased at the corners of her eyes before she was able to settle the soul sucking Shriike nature that lay just below the surface.
“Your little dance number at Zaa humiliated him the other night,” Fallon finally said to cut the tension. “In addition to killing his little pet the Dark King. This is personal. He doesn't just want you to lose and die. He wants to hurt you in the process.”
“And what do you want, Fallon?” I asked point blank.
“Same as everyone else,” she replied, her green eyes locked on mine, “to survive.”
The alarm blared again, and the lights flashed brighter and faster signaling the five minute warning. My team and I glanced around then back at Artemis out of instinct. She always gave us our countdown before matches.
When we looked back, Fallon was gone.
“She Batman’d us,” I exclaimed. “That cat bitch freaking Batman’d us!”
“Always an adventure with you, isn’t it Marc?” Nova said with a sigh.
“At least I’m not boring,” I said as we started to walk toward our mat-trans tubes. “Okay, so, we need to hook up with PoLarr as soon as we land. Warn her.”
“Look, it is an honorable thing to do, Marc, and you know I would risk my life for anyone in our alliance,” Nova said. “But PoLarr is not in our alliance. Right now she is the most dangerous enemy on the field. Are we sure that is a wise decision?”
“I have another idea,” Aurora said with a grin as she came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder, then she slowly ran it down my arm in one sensuous motion. “If everyone is going after PoLarr, maybe we could use her as bait to to lure in victims, um, enemies so I can… dispose of them. That conversation made me absolutely famished.”