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"Rules are simple. Sixty of ya go in, thirty come out."
Harley's voice blared over the loudspeakers as she strutted onto the sand, a group of armed guards trailing behind her.
"Scratch, fight, kick, slice—anything's on the table, long as it ain't a gun. But then again, we don't let ya in here with 'em." Her eyes swept the crowd, lingering here and there. "'Course, no killin' if ya can help it." She shrugged. "But these things happen! Soon as that buzzer goes off—start rippin' an' tearin'."
She was escorted out of the arena and settled into a high perch. Tense seconds passed, which I spent sizing up my enemies. Six out of every ten fighters wore the same standard-issue wooden mask as I. More than a few were looking in my direction.
I was smaller than most—unfortunately, my stat boosts hadn't come with a much-needed growth spurt.
Some fighters stood out. A girl in a grinning mask and dark green kimono, twirling a pair of Sais like she was born with them. An old head—scarred, wiry, clad in a wifebeater and combat boots. He had the stance of someone who had seen real fights--likely military.
And then there was him.
Victor Zsasz.
I almost missed him in the crowd. He was dressed sharp in a white dress shirt—sleeves rolled up to expose his signature tally marks—charcoal trousers, and polished Oxfords.
We locked eyes. He grinned. "Long time no see."
Ah, fuck—
The buzzer screeched.
Chaos erupted.
A man lunged at me with a club, hunger in his eyes. I met him head-on, ducking beneath his swing and driving my knuckle-duster-clad fist into his jaw. I flared Inverse at the moment of impact. His body crumpled, unconscious, before he hit the ground. I exhaled, feeling absolutely nothing from the exchange.
It was a small experiment to check if Inverse could be used offensively.
As evidenced by my first K.O., the answer was a resounding yes. How effective was it vs. Reinforcement was another matter entirely.
The crowd roared—curses, commands, cheers blending into a frenzied cacophony that made my head pound.
Movement.
I twisted just as a hand clamped onto my shoulder. I seized the wrist and wrung it like it owed me money.
The attacker screamed. I silenced him with a sharp blow to the face—just before a human freight train tackled me to the sand.
A fist swung down, aiming to cave my skull in. I flared Reinforcement, met his arm with my knee, and countered with a punch that sent his head snapping back. Seizing the moment, I wrapped my leg around his neck and rolled, using his weight against him.
A bat crashed into my back. Inverse flared just in time, dulling the blow. I squeezed my leg muscles, tightening the choke as I finished off the first attacker. A second strike—wild and desperate—came at me from behind. I dropped Inverse as a precaution, uncertain of its speed or effectiveness, and twisted aside, but not before the blade kissed my side.
Sharp pain. Thirty health points down. Not great.
The wielder—a blonde girl with a manic grin—saw the blood and got greedy. She charged.
A front kick knocked the air from her lungs. A stomp to the chest kept her down.
When I looked up, the frenzied brawling had died down, and fighters took stock. Those left standing now eyed each other with wary calculation. The old head was untouched. So was Sai girl. Zsasz, too, of course. They hadn't just dropped bodies—they'd bled them.
There were only thirty-one of us left.
A skinhead eyed my wound and stepped forward, twirling his hunting knife between his fingers, likely deeming me prey.
He'd only take one step before his throat exploded open.
Blood sprayed. He crumpled, gurgling. The crowd lost it.
My breath hitched. Eyes darting around the arena. How? When?
I recognized the knife jutting from his neck on a second pass, and I swallowed, my eyes snapping up to Zsasz, who was bearing his teeth in a smile that was far too wide.
"He's mine," he announced, voice smooth, eyes alight with something hungry. The crowd fed off it, and murmurs followed.
Harley whistled from her perch. "What an endin'! Ain't lost a step, huh, Zsasz. What were they feedin' ya in Blackgate?"
Zsasz didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Harley spread her arms. "Looks like there's some history there! Hopefully, our boy here makes it through the next round. I know the audience is dying to see how this plays out!"
–
Artemis POV
The apartment was quiet when I woke up, the weight of the silence abated slightly by the hum of my fan and the distant sirens outside. I pushed off my blanket, stretched, and made my way to the kitchen.
I measured flour, cracked eggs, poured milk, and sprinkled in other ingredients while my mind caught up to my tired body. I had a late night.
Cooking was second nature, much like fighting. It helped me think. And Mom used to love it whenever she was around. But that'd changed since the accident.
I rinsed off a pan and set the stove on low as my mind drifted to last night's argument.
Mom had not been happy when she saw the bow.
At first, she thought Julius was just a boy I was seeing, but when I told her he was just a friend who needed help, she was livid.
"You think you're different?" she had said, her voice tight, fists clenching the edges of her armrest. "You think you won't get sucked in? That's what I thought, too."
Her words were like a punch to the gut. Mom rarely spoke about her past, so whenever she did, I knew she was really mad.
Dad was the opposite. He twisted the knife every chance, reminding Jade and me of just how talented Mom was.
"You're toddlers compared to her!" His words echoed from our last sparring match. My wrists grew cold each time I visited the memory. He even readily admitted that she was better than he, where it counted.
That was no small feat for a man with an ego as large as his.
Mom's fears were understandable, but I knew where the lines were.
"I'm not you, Mom," I said, coldly. "And Julius is not Dad. He's been there for me. I can't just turn my back on him. He's not a monster like dad..."
Mom shrank back, staring at me in surprise like I'd slapped her.
"They usually aren't in the beginning," she said with a tense silence. "My love for your father pushed me to take jobs I shouldn't have and to take responsibilities for his mistakes. You may have the best of intentions, and so might he, but that won't count for much when the bill comes due. Someone will have to pay, and my dear, I hope it's not you."
"I know what I'm doing," I said, folding my arms.
"I pray you do."
We stood there for a long time before I muscled my bow and stomped off to my room.
Standing at the stove, I realized I could've probably handled that better. I flipped over the pancake with a sigh. The scent of butter and vanilla filled the small kitchen, but it did nothing to soothe my guilt.
She just wanted to protect me, and her instincts about Julius were not entirely off the mark...
He still hadn't opened up about what happened that night. I knew bits and pieces and tried not to push too hard... but after the news from last night and our call?
I always knew he was a bit bloodthirsty, but I didn't actually think he'd go through with it.
Maybe it was self-defense, the quiet voice in my mind said.
Even if it was, he went out looking for trouble last night, and he found it.
Maybe if I hadn't left earlier....
No. I shook my head. I'll reserve judgment until I actually talk to him face-to-face. He won't lie to my face, I think...
I worked through several batches of pancakes, piling them up high, until my nervous eyes darted toward Mom's room. She hadn't come out yet. I knew she was awake.
She always got up before eight. Was she giving me the cold shoulder?
It wasn't her style. She liked you to see the disappointment on her face. I should check in on her—
Click.
The front door opened.
I turned, genuinely surprised, but expecting Mom nonetheless. Instead, a man wheeled her inside, gripping the chair like he owned it.
My breath caught in my throat. My entire body locked up, and the ladle nearly slipped from my hand.
It was Dad.
He looked the same as he always had. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, eyes that could burn through you. But it was my mother's face that had my stomach in knots—her expression was unreadable, like she had already resigned herself to whatever was about to happen.
And behind them, stepping inside like she belonged there, was my sister. She didn't even spare me a glance.
"What—" My voice cracked. "What are you doing here?"
Jade looked up with a knowing smile. "What's the matter, Artemis? You look like you've seen a ghost?"
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Launching a new Patreon for the story next monday. It will be 5 chapters ahead.