“That is the stupidest kind of technicality bullshit,” I shout over the sound of chaos. We’re not moving as fast. People are panicking and starting to run into the streets. We’re barely keeping ahead of the worst of it. That won’t last. “We need a plan. Can you bring Solrin here?”
“Fuck you,” our driver says. “Once I realized the game’s addictive, I kept my hands off it. I’m not going down that road again. Thanks for the warning by the way, you fucking wanker.”
Not going down that road again? Guess I’ve found part of the source for his own anger issues.
“We need to neutralize him,” I say. “Either take out his kaiju or force him to log out.”
“He’s holed up at a Motel 6 off East Tropicana Avenue,” he says.
“Oh, the one that’s near the Top Golf?” Isabella asks.
I stare at her for a moment, then turn to Solrin’s player. “Dane didn’t unfriend you?”
“No, he did, but I tracked all you dumbasses down the old fashioned way before cutting ties.”
“Get us to the airport,” Lusitania says.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Because I said so you maggot-dicked gutterfuck,” she snaps, then kicks the driver’s seat. “McCaran International Airport. Now!”
He guns it, and next thing I know we’re dodging traffic as we pull into a lane that heads straight there. “What’s at the airport?”
“Open space,” she says. “Watch out!”
Megaptera’s charging after us scything forelimbs swinging, head low. Solrin slams on the brakes at the last second and he smashes his way over us, claws leaving a long scratch down the hood as they just barely miss. He guns it as Megaptera tries to turn around and pulls off an exit to the airport.
“Open space is really not what we need right now, Gorgeous!” Solrin cries out.
“Yeah it is,” Lusitania says, elbowing Isabella. “Give it here.”
“So pushy,” Isabella says, fishing into the pocket of her sweatpants and producing a smartphone. She hands it over to Lusitania. “You sure about this?”
“Oh God, you’re not about to do what I think you’re about to do, are you?” I say.
“Probably not because you’re too stupid to think of what I’m doing,” Lusitania says. “You just focus on getting to that motel and forcing Dane to logout. The sooner he goes down the sooner the destruction stops.”
She holds up the phone and taps an app on the screen that wasn’t there an instant before. She goes rigid, staring at the screen like some kind of cartoon zombie.
An incoming airplane pulls my attention away from Lusitania’s trance-state as its engines roar and it swings wide to avoid Megaptera. Lusitania’s right about the open space around the runways though. Barring the grounded airplanes there’s plenty of room for her to do exactly what I think she’s doing.
I’m proven right a moment later as with a flash of light, her own kaiju, Halira appears standing next to a cluster of planes.
Halira resembles Megaptera in the sense that they are both built like theropod dinosaurs, bipedal, hunched over, with long bodies, and they both have massive claws. But it’s like comparing a chain flail to a katana. Yes, both are technically medieval melee weapons used by ancient warriors to kill their enemies up close and personal, but they operate completely different.
Whereas Megaptera is a bulky bastard, built like a tank or rhinoceros, Halira is lithe and built for speed. There’s nothing blunt or remotely non-predator about her. She’s a mineral kaiju with an orangeish core and covered in crystalline white spikes that double as brittle armor. Her feet end in long talons and her hands…it’s like someone took kaiju-sized scythe blades made out of salt crystal and affixed them to her kaiju’s fingers.
Halira opens her beak-like maw, revealing wicked fangs, and shrieks a challenge. Hey, Bumblefuck! Your Mom says hi.”
Megaptera’s reaction would be funny if when he tripped, he didn’t accidentally smash a shuttle bus full of people. You!
Articulate, aren’t you, dickface. That is a dick on your face isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ll cut it off. Halira launches at him in a blur. Did I mention she’s fast?
The distance between them vanishes and then she freezes. That’s not like her. Halira likes to do hit and run attacks like a cavalry soldier. And then I see what’s happened.
Megaptera’s caught her, one mantis-like scythe catching Halira’s claws, the other striking her in the body with a precision akin to Isabella’s punches in her earlier fight. He’s bypassed that crystalline armor and hit her right in the core.
Megaptera’s eyes glow red, his rage meter flashes, and then he unleashes his optic beams point blank into Halira’s side. The rock salt kaiju is blasted off her feet and tumbles across the landing strip, smashing an airplane before coming to a halt.
Bitch please, Megaptera calls, You’re all bark, no bite. I’ve leveled up since the last time you fucking sniped me, PKer. It’s payback time.
Chapter Thirteen
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Halira writhes about like a glass serpent for a second, demolishing the tarmac beneath her before she’s on her feet, talons sinking into the ground. Her side is smoking and several crystals are cracked. Her HP bar is still over half though, so while that hit hurt it wasn’t crippling. She’s not out of this fight yet.
Her disadvantage is more obvious now. Halira’s dramatic entrance and sudden attack hadn’t really allowed me to get a sense of scale between the two kaiju. It’s like watching a mountain lion facing off against a grizzly bear. Megaptera’s got mass and size on his side and as he just demonstrated, he’s not slow despite what his bulk might suggest.
Halira’s taken down kaiju that are higher level than her before though. And she’s built specifically to take out other kaiju. This fight is not unwinnable, despite Dane’s cocky attitude.
Halira shrieks, her scream punctuated with Lusitania’s profanity as a beam of rippling, transparent energy flies from her beak to hit Megaptera right in the face. Her rage meter flashes and depletes quickly. Dane doesn’t seem to notice or care because Megaptera just stands there taking the hit, apparently unaffected.
To anyone who doesn’t know how Halira’s Desiccation Beam works it appears utterly ineffective. I, however, know what to look for. Megaptera’s HP doesn’t drop, but the meter itself begins to shrink. Halira is a salt-based kaiju, her attacks focus around cutting and causing extreme dehydration. The “game” translates this as reducing the overall capacity of a kaiju’s HP. For Halira with her extreme speed and attack stats, it’s a perfect opening move.
Dane doesn’t seem to have figured it out. The laughter cuts off and Megaptera lowers his head, horn pointing right at Halira, and charges forward through the beam. His HP bar continues to shrink until Halira’s rage bar empties and then he’s on her.
Only Lusitania is ready for him and Halira leaps deftly to the side. She darts back to strike at Megaptera’s flank, but the red kaiju is shockingly quick to pivot. The horn comes up in a vicious uppercut. Halira dodges this too though and goes in low, aiming for the exposed throat.
But those mantis-like arms are fast. They dart out, catching the claws of the hand she’s lashed out with. Leaving Megaptera open for the other claws as Halira shoves in close, leading with her free talons to open up three crimson craters along Megaptera’s side. Blood pours from the wounds and a chunk of Megaptera’s HP vanishes from his meter, putting him even with Halira.
For a moment I allow myself to hope that Lusitania might just end this before we get to Dane. If my own experiences from “dying” as a kaiju are anything to go by he’ll be completely incapacitated by the time we arrive. Hope is a traitorous bitch.
Megaptera’s counter attack hits Halira hard. He yanks her imprisoned limb, pulling her off balance, and pivots into her stumble, catching her right in the chest with his horn.
Halira h
as great speed and attack, but she’s what gamers refer to as a glass canon. All offense and very little ability to take a hit. Her HP is dropping fast as Megaptera lowers his head, Halira still impaled upon his horn, and charges forward, driving her through the concrete of the runway and sending up debris and damaged vehicles.
One of those damaged vehicles flies through the air and nearly crashes into us. Solrin’s player—and dammit, I really need to learn this guy’s name—jerks the car to a complete stop to let it go careening past. None of us crammed into the backseat have put on our seatbelts.
Predictably, we fly forward, striking the seats ahead of us with enough force to bounce our driver’s chest into the steering wheel. My own head cracks against Lusitania’s and I see stars. Damn, I knew that girl was hard-headed.
“The hell you playing at back there?” The driver demands.
“Shut up and drive, puto,” Isabella demands and thankfully he doesn’t argue, just guns it.
Then I realize I’ve just cracked Lusitania really hard over the head. Halira’s the only thing keeping Megaptera from coming after us right now. If I’ve forced her to logout Halira will vanish from our world.
Lusitania thrashes about, snapping her teeth, spittle flying. It looks like she’s having a fit. But a glance out the window shows Halira hanging on by a thread and keeping up the fight. She’s turning this into a game of cat and mouse, making Megaptera chase her around. She doesn’t have to win, just keep him busy.
Distantly I notice that the snapping of the kaiju’s jaws matches up with the movements of Lusitania’s own mouth. Weird. It makes a kind of sense though.
We tear out of the airport and down the road, weaving through traffic, the sound of the fighting kaiju chasing after us like the roar of a tornado. Fortunately, the Motel 6 Dane’s staying at isn’t far off. We pull into the driveway and Solrin’s player circles around like he knows exactly where we’re going. Which I realize a second later is because he does.
“You know what room he’s in?” I demand.
“Yup,” he says.
“How?”
He doesn’t answer and pulls us into a catawampus park. He and I both get out before I realize we’ve got a problem. We can’t just leave Lusitania in the car. Isabella seems to read my mind because she catches my eye and gives a nod. “I’ve got her. You go take care of this.”
I catch up to Solrin’s player a moment later outside a ground floor door. He gives me a once over, glances back to the car, and makes a disgusted sound. “Right, leave the professional fighter behind. That’s the smart move.”
“And what’s your genius plan?” I demand.
“Fuck if I know! You’re the one with the violent criminal past,” he snaps. “You come up with something. I have to do all the work here?”
I step around him with a grunt and kick in the door. The security latch catches then tears free with another well-placed kick. The door falls inward.
“That’ll do,” Solrin’s player says.
We step inside.
The room is unremarkable. Like every other room in this chain. Minimal, but not so much as to be uncomfortable. It hasn’t been stayed in long.
The occupant is a big guy in a wheel chair pulled around to the small work table in the corner. He’s thick, built like an athlete but life in a chair’s turned most of his muscle to fat. He must have been one scary bastard on the football field.
He smells. His hair is matted and unwashed and he’s got stubble covering his chin. His bag lays unpacked on the bed and he stares into his phone with the same intensity as Lusitania back in the car. He must have come straight here and logged in without bothering to wash up or change. Either that or he’s completely given up on taking care of himself.
I freeze, because none of those details are relevant next to the fact that this guy’s in a wheelchair. When Solrin’s player said Dane’s career had been ruined he didn’t say it was because the attack on him and his wife left him paraplegic. Fuck. I’m not looking at an enraged former athlete with a giant monster, I’m looking at my mother. I ran away from her earlier. How can I face this man if I couldn’t even face her?
Solrin’s player makes that point moot an instant later when he crosses the distance and punches Dane across the face. It’s not enough to wake him up. He punches him again, rocking his chair back. It starts to tip over and he comes to, flailing. He catches himself on the underside of the table before he can fall over, screaming and blinking in surprise.
We did it. He’s logged out. I can actually hear the difference in the distance now that Megaptera’s roars are gone. Halira’s vanish an instant later.
Dane Burnette’s eyes do not match his appearance. They’re pale, clear, and quickly become focused, darting between the pair of us and assessing his situation. If he’d still been playing football I’d probably have thought him a big dumb bruiser. Clearly, he’s not.
And just as clearly, we’ve underestimated him as he reaches under the table and pulls out a fucking Glock.
Solrin’s player backs away quick, swearing up a storm, hands in the air. The gun shifts to aim at me and I put my hands up as well. There’s something about having a gun pointed at you that makes you hyper aware of the blood in your veins and the beat of your heart. It’s such a weird thing, especially when compared to everything else I’ve been through and seen since Megaptera first showed up. One accidental squeeze and my life is over.
I glance at Solrin’s player. “You found out what room he’s staying in but missed this?”
“Fuck off,” he says.
I return my attention to Dane. “I’m not your enemy, Dane.” I try to sound calm. Rational. I don’t think it works.
“The fuck you aren’t,” he says. It’s weird hearing his Boston accent without Megaptera’s roars. “You should have been locked up with those fuckers in Huntsville. You’ve been in and out of prison since you were what, eleven?”
“About that,” I admit, though technically those were juvenile detention centers and my record is supposed to be sealed. I’ve been learning the hard way lately that that doesn’t actually mean shit.
“Shut up!” He adjusts his grip on the gun. I wonder if he’s ever held one before.
“People like you shouldn’t be out with the rest of us.” There’s a mad gleam in his eye that I don’t like or trust.
“You’re like me,” I say, still trying to sound calm. “You killed a lot of people in Huntsville.”
“Criminals!” He’s screaming. If he could he’d be standing. His face turns red. “And you should have been in there with them. You know they were about to let the fuckers who put me in this chair out? Good behavior.” He laughs. It’s a bitter, broken sound. “They took away my career. They took away my wife!”
Fuck. I’m not going to get through to him. I know I’m not. I still have to try. “You killed more than just the people who hurt you. You took away at least one kid’s father. He didn’t kill or hurt anyone.” Samuel had been locked up for selling weed. Say what you will about gateway drugs, I’ve never seen marijuana kill someone and I’ve known some serious stoners.
“Shut up,” he says. “Shut up. It’s good you found me here. It wouldn’t have been personal enough killing you with Megaptera.” He steadies his grip on the gun and aims for my center mass. It’s a professional grip. He’s been practicing this.
There’s movement at the door. I realize I haven’t heard Halira’s screams for a while and what that means the instant before my brain recognizes Lusitania and Isabella in the doorway.
The gun swings toward them. Dane’s eyes are wide and mad. He’s going to fire.
There’s the sound of a gunshot.
Dane’s head explodes.
Chapter Fourteen
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I’m in a small cold room. It’s designed to be sterile and uncomfortable. Intimidating and isolating. Being handcuf
fed to the stainless-steel table in this room is the most familiar thing I’ve experienced in the last three days. It’s a fucked-up kind of comfort, but it’s enough that I’m finally able to sleep. And sleep deep.
When I’m woken up by a pair of knuckles tapping on the table next to my head, I’m groggy, but my thoughts aren’t incoherent. It only takes my brain a moment to catch up. I think I’m still in Vegas, though I couldn’t say where, exactly. Everything happened fast after Dane died.
Men in black combat gear poured into the hotel, put all of us on the ground, and piled us into the back of a big ass car. Next thing I know we’ve all been separated and I’m locked up in here. It’s an interrogation room.
The man in front of me, who’s told me to call him “Marty,” has already interrogated me. He’ll do it several more times before this is all over. I don’t watch a lot of TV or movies, but I can tell you that being in interrogation is nothing at all like what I’ve seen there.
Marty puts a paper cup of water next to my hands. I’ve got enough leeway in my chains to take a drink. He pulls his chair around to the side next to mine so that we’re sitting at a ninety-degree angle to each other. He’s my friend, not my enemy. He’s not going to threaten me or shout. He wants to coax me into telling him things his people want to know.
It works on most people, too. Way better than the threats and screaming. Especially on people like me. See, I know better than to say anything. I’ve been in this chair often enough to know that anything I say here can and will be used against me. None of it can be used to help me. It’s a one-way street, one that leads to me getting screwed over. That’s why you’re not supposed to say a word without a lawyer present.
So far that doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen any time soon, especially if I’ve been asleep as long as I think I have. The smart thing to do is to shut up and just keep waiting. Hold things down until my situation changes. Don’t give them any ammunition to use against me.
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