“This is insane,” she whispered to herself.
“Did you see that?” one of Mert’s guards called out.
“Wow! She smacked Praetor’s ax right into the ground!” exclaimed another.
“Then picked it up and threw it away like it was nothing,” said still another.
“That woman can’t be human,” the fourth guard responded.
“Bah!” spat Mert. “It’s gotta be a trick of some kind. I’m goin’ to take a closer look. You mutts keep an eye on the skirt over here until it’s her time to get thrown to the wolves. That’s an order!”
“Yessir!” the four men shouted in unison.
Sinza ignored their discourse, wondering to herself what she should do now.
“Where are you Gal?” she breathed.
The crowd applauded wildly as the young Brit grabbed the metal clad fighter by his breastplate. In one quick motion, she issued a savage punch to his chest, which dented the armor like tinfoil, knocked his legs out from under him, and landed him face down on the sandy floor. The giant roared in pain from the blow, and from the growing pressure of the protective covering pressing against his body. She rolled him onto his back, leaped on top of him, and mercilessly pummeled his chest and midsection, eliciting cries of pain as the crumpled metal bit deeper and deeper. The crowd roared its approval as she continued her assault, switching their cheers of allegiance from the Champion to the young underdog. They stomped their feet, clapped their hands or cried out in unison, at each blow she delivered. All the while, the redhead heard none of it. Laurina Hawks had descended into a zone where nothing else existed except for herself and her opponent. Her vision and attention were so heightened, that she could see every flaw and weakness in the behemoth’s armor, and she went after each one with reckless abandon.
The embattled Praetor tried to defend himself by desperately grabbing at his female opponent. Each time he tried, Laurina batted his hands away easily, like an adult swatting a naughty child’s bottom. Finally, with a colossal roar, he reared up from the Arena floor and caught both hands of his opponent in his own. Straining forward, he used his massive reserves of strength to force himself into a sitting position, drawing cheers from the crowd. Both combatants pushed against the other, trying to win the battle for leverage. The crowd cheered even louder as the duo inched one way, then the other, their hands and arms locked into the titanic struggle. After a brief stalemate, the champion slowly pressed the young woman backward. Further and further he pushed, while at the same time he tensed his hips, intending to throw her off.
It would be the last move he would ever make.
In one smooth motion, the redhead freed herself from his grip and struck a blow to his chest so powerful that his entire upper body fell with a booming crash back to the Arena floor. The force caused Praetor’s head to bounce upon impact, stunning the huge warrior and denting the back of his helmet.
His final feeble attempt at resistance grazed her face, causing the redhead to slide off her perch atop his chest in annoyance. Holding his entire right arm against her body, the young Brit made one quick motion, and a sharp crack split the air as she broke the behemoth's arm. The Arena champion screamed in terrible pain. Laurina repeated the action on his left arm, and noting his second scream of pain, she smiled with grim satisfaction. Leaping back onto the chest of her now helpless opponent, she continued her assault once more. Soon, metal gave way to flesh, and moments later, the construct's chest plate gave way to growing amounts of the silver fluid. With his arms broken and ineffective, all the armored warrior could do was flail his legs uselessly. Over and over again she continued battering his ribcage like a jackhammer.
The raucous crowd shrank back in horror as she continued to pummel Praetor. Fueled by the power that flamed within her, Laurina raised a fist preparing to strike even harder. Her beautiful face contorted into a rictus of savage bloodlust; a desire to not only defeat her opponent but to see him suffer. The thought of how this thing battered her lesser self, burned hot within her, stoking her heart with flames of indignation and the desire for retribution. With a scream, she struck once more at Praetor’s chest. One, two, three blows and more she struck, drawing gasps from the Arena faithful. Still, she continued her unrelenting assault, while a glowing yellow corona began to appear around her body. Soon sharp blows against bone turned to sodden thumps as her hands broke into his chest cavity. His scream of pain was cut short by a powerful uppercut, which split both Praetor's helmet and his jaw, leaving his mouth a quivering grunting mess.
The strange glow increased its golden intensity with each strike, while silvery fluid from the contact, flew from her fists into the air each time the Londoner drew them back. Finally, with a grunt of exertion, she thrust her argent fist forward and plunged it deep into his exposed chest. The blow was struck with such force, that her entire arm disappeared into Praetor’s massive body. Through his broken jaw, the giant screamed in agony as a fountain of silver blood and gore exploded from his chest, and his body rocked back and forth in a frenzy. He screamed again as she plunged her other arm inside, until a snapping sound changed his cry into a breathy flapping noise, like that of a dying raptor. One final tremor shook his massive body, and Praetor, the champion of the Arena, wilted against the sandy floor, dead.
The crowd which had been howling for blood moments earlier had gone quiet, stunned that their champion had been finished in such a gruesome manner. Covered in his silver ichor and gore, the redhead reached inside the cavity she had created, ripped out Praetor’s heart, stood up, and held it aloft, surrounded by a fountain of his lifeblood. An otherworldly shriek of triumph emerged from her throat to split the air. The sound was completely alien in tone, inhuman in resonance, and unlike anything any of the gathered masses had ever heard before in life. Even Athena herself reared back into her seat at the sound of it. Once again it echoed throughout the entire complex, causing some of the spectators to scream, and a few to leave their seats and move tentatively toward the exits.
A smirk of pleasure was evident upon Laurina’s face as she tossed Praetor’s weakly pulsating heart onto the Arena floor, where it hit the sand with a wet, floppy sound. Alighting from atop his body, she landed gracefully next to the silver-clad warrior. Scanning the sand, she spied her katana lying several feet away. A moment later, she plucked it up, tasting its familiar weight in her hand. The spectators rewarded her motions with stunned silence, while the viewing monitors continued to replay her finishing move from every conceivable angle. Casting her vision into the stands, she searched until her eyes came to rest on the one person she was looking for.
Athena.
“You!” her alien voice once again rocked the complex.
Swiftly, she hurled the golden katana directly toward the older woman with all of her might. The vehemence of her effort took even Athena by surprise, startling her. The sharp blade sliced through the air point first, hurtling toward its target like a golden arrow. Two feet before making contact, however, the sword was engulfed in a crackling field of blue light and its progress was immediately halted. The metal blade hovered in front of the Mistress’s box like a fly stuck in amber. The spectators gasped as the golden katana suddenly fragmented into hundreds of tiny pieces before disappearing from sight.
Athena smiled. “Did you really think killing me would be that easy?”
Laurina opened her mouth to respond when a sudden spasm shook her body. Like an engine flaming out, the fire that fueled her rage abruptly disappeared, taking her titanic power along with it. She shuddered as confusion and disorientation filled her mind. For a moment she wasn’t sure where she was until the flood of realization parted the sea of her sudden bewilderment. As she came to herself, she caught sight of the Arena monitors showing her killing blow against Praetor over and over again. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the image of herself delivering it; not as Laurina Hawks the con artist, but as some sort of savage Valkyrie.
As her eyes were locked onto the monitor,
a low murmur rose from the spectators of the Arena. Suddenly a man with long blond hair rose from his seat in the front row and cried out.
“Red!” he shouted.
Reaching over the edge, he began pounding on the metal wall.
“Red! Red! Red!”
He repeated the word over and over, while his mane flew back and forth over his head at each strike. In response, the crowd began to pick up the chant. It started as a trickle, growing steadily as it spread like a wave throughout the entire Arena. Finally, it rose to a crescendo, until every spectator clapped, stomped or pounded whatever was convenient, as they shouted.
“Red! Red! Red!”
Laurina Hawks was stunned. The words of the cheering fan recalled the dream that she had while asleep in Athena’s holding cell, and here she was, living it out in all of its horror. What’s more, when the strange fire had flared to life within her body as she fought to save herself, she had given into it willingly, eagerly. But by so doing, she had somehow lost control of her own personality, and her own will. Feeling stickiness, she looked down at her hands and blanched. They were covered in a glittery argent fluid and multicolored bits. So were her arms and legs. Looking up at the huge monitors, the image being shown rocked her to the core. Her entire body was covered in dripping quicksilver ichor. She almost wept. Not only for what she had done but for what she had become in that moment. Overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, her knees buckled and she slumped to the Arena sand.
Bloody hell! I’ve become a monster!
Chapter 9
Athena saw immediately that something was wrong with her red-haired captive. She arose from her seat to get a better view, as the nearby microphones automatically adjusted to her position at the railing. Based on the earlier findings, the triumph of the young upstart over Praetor, while not totally unexpected, was shocking nonetheless. What appeared on the surface to be a simple mercy killing of an inferior Juggs had turned into the most spectacular battle that her Arena had ever hosted. It was evident that this woman was the one they had been told to look out for.
The scientist in Athena had been collecting data during her observation of the battle. What power this woman had! The subject was able to heal her own wounds and revive her strength as if she Buffed herself at will. But her powers came to her sporadically and unconsciously, hinting that they were either newly acquired or not totally under her control. Did her abilities have limits? And if so, what were they? Clearly, more analysis was needed, and she had just the thing to accomplish the next phase of tests.
The Mistress of the Arena addressed the cheering crowd, speaking in a benevolent voice that was amplified to carry throughout the stadium.
“It is apparent that we have misjudged the ability of this Juggs. Nevertheless, she has proven herself in battle and has earned the title of Victor!”
Once again thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd.
“Before we continue, I shall allow our new champion a moment to compose and refresh herself.”
A large panel in the metal wall on the opposite end of the battle floor slid aside, and two young men dressed in page outfits ran out carrying a large bucket of water. As they made their way toward the young redhead, eight other men emerged. They were bare-chested and burly, with skin tanned and oiled in the perfect bodybuilder model, meant to impress and awe the masses. Dressed in flawless white linen pants and white battle boots, they jogged towards the lifeless body of Praetor, carrying an ornate litter on their shoulders as they moved. It had a polished golden frame with a large pole on either side that gleamed like the sun in the bright Arena light. Inside the frame was a soft white mattress lined on all sides with large silver skulls that grinned evilly, as if hinting at a hidden secret about the afterlife.
While the muscled litter bearers approached the fallen champion, Athena spread her arm over the railing toward the lifeless hulk lying on the sand.
“Praetor was a noble competitor and champion in the hearts of all who have fought in the Arena, and we shall honor him as such,” Athena declared solemnly. “His remains shall be interred at the Hall of Heroes, in a place of honor along with his armor and battle ax. Hail Praetor!”
The spectators replied, “Hail Praetor!”
“Exulted Warrior!” she cried
“Hail Praetor!” the audience repeated.
“May your exploits be forever etched into our memory.”
“Hail Praetor! Hail!” the spectators shouted as one.
While the pronouncement was being made, the two pages halted several feet away from the woman the crowd had dubbed “Red.” Unsure as to what to do, and afraid that she might confront them both with her fearsome power, they looked at one another knowingly before setting the water bucket down and running full speed back the way they came.
Laurina barely saw them. Kneeling in the sand, her mind was reeling.
My God! What the hell happened to me? As proud as Praetor was, he had at least insisted on battling me with honor. Killing him the way I did… I didn’t want that….
An ominous memory seemed to whisper in her mind.
Now it’s this blighter’s turn to feel some pain.
No! That wasn’t what…I didn’t mean…I didn’t want that.
Now it’s this blighter turn to feel some pain.
It wasn’t my fault! That damned power just took me over before I knew it, that’s all. It’s not like I asked for it to happen, right?
Now it’s this blighter’s turn to feel some pain.
The video image of her body covered in Praetor’s quicksilver blood while holding his heart aloft replayed itself in her mind's eye. Laurina’s own heart seemed to die within her.
Even if I do survive this horror show, I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my bloody life!
“Our new champion gave us all quite the thrill,” Athena announced to the crowd. “Would you like to see more?”
Once again the crowd roared its approval.
“Let’s see how the one you call “Red” fares against multiple opponents! Fight master, bring out…”
Suddenly the Arena lights abruptly went dead, along with Athena’s microphone.
A loud scream echoed from the stands as a fiery red cloud appeared overhead, quickly spreading around the stands and glowing with dark intent. As the murmur of confusion ran through the crowd, bolts of bright blue lightning crackled wickedly as they struck out in all directions of the Arena’s interior, hitting the large monitors, the metal columns, and human flesh indiscriminately. People in the stands who managed to avoid the lightning strikes cried out in surprise and pain as the red cloud also descended upon them, growing in size and intensity and delivering a stinging and burning sensation when each red spangle touched flesh.
At the first sign of commotion, Sinza Flanagan struck at her nearest captors, sending them slumping to the floor clutching their windpipes. Two well-placed head kicks sent the others into unconsciousness. Searching the pockets of her captors, she located the key and freed her wrists from the manacles. A low beeping from the transmitter behind her ear informed her that Galicia was nearby, and the one providing the distraction.
“Now I can move!”
Running at a full sprint, the raven-haired commando quickly crossed the Arena floor, making her way to the figure kneeling on the sand. A large spray of it launched into the air as she slid to a stop next to her.
“Laurina, get up!” she yelled grabbing the woman’s sticky shoulders. “We’re getting out of this dump!”
For a moment the Brit appeared nonresponsive. Her head lolled to the side as if she were barely awake.
Sinza shook her hard, but to no avail. Seeing the bucket nearby, she grabbed it and hurled water directly into the redhead’s face.
The results were immediate.
“Wha-what?” she said, sputtering as she wiped at the water in her eyes.
“Get up! We gotta meet up with Gal and get outta here!” Sinza yelled
Pulling her up to her feet,
she placed the sponge that was within the bucket into the stunned woman’s hands as she dragged her along at a run.
“Here, clean that muck off your face as best you can, so you can see. We're gonna meet up with your sister, and figure a way out.”
“What? Who are you?”
“Sinza,” the commando replied as they sprinted back across the sand. “Sinza Flanagan.”
The shock of recognition hit Laurina harder than the splash of cold water had.
Athena’s luxury box had become a pyrotechnic light show. The air surrounding it flashed wildly with multi-colored light as the force shield and the red cloud clashed, and incompatible energies converged. Athena furiously motioned her arms like a concert conductor in an effort to bring her powers to bear to augment the barrier. At the same time, she screamed commands at her attendants and guards. Unfortunately, there was so much noise and confusion, that her cries went unheeded. The Arena erupted in panic and chaos as the spectators beat at their bodies while running to and fro in near darkness, attempting to escape from the sudden scarlet attack.
On the battle floor, the two women quickly made their way back toward the fighter’s entrance. As they entered the hallway, a nearby door yawned open and two Arena guards rushed out in response to the commotion. Sinza landed a hard punch to the jaw of the first, then pivoted about to strike the other in the nose. Blood gushed into the air as both men bent forward clutching at their wounds as they howled in pain. A swift kick sent one of them to the floor unconscious. Remembering her training, Laurina followed suit, dropping the other with a quick knee to his groin. While he writhed in the sand, Sinza scooped up their guns, pressing a rifle into the Brit’s hands.
“Can you shoot?’ she asked.
Hawks Effect_Dangerous Reunion Page 6