A loud CRACK reverberated throughout the arena as soon as she arrived at the very edge of the treeline that surrounded the clearing. At the same time, a dazzling muzzle flash that was a meter long burst from Treskan's ridgetop position. With ruthless force, an invisible projectile struck her left shoulder, piercing the layered armor plates as cleanly as synth-paper.
Her clavicle and scapula were broken when the round exited out of her back. With a cry, Nora fell hard to the ground, her whole body jarring. Her shoulder and chest exploded with blinding, overwhelming pain. She managed to roll onto her stomach by gritting her teeth against the pain. Blood was already accumulating on the sandy ground beneath her, and her left arm hung uselessly. She forced herself to think as she fought through the waves of pain and shock. Not possible. Her shoulder plate should not have been so cleanly penetrated by any standard kinetic round, regardless of caliber. Despite being scavenged, her composite armor was rated to withstand impacts far greater than that, barring a direct hit from anti-armor weapons. He is unfaithful. It's definitely cheating. Before Treskan's arrogant voice crackled over the open comm channel, she lay there for maybe ten excruciating seconds, concentrating only on breathing.
Treskan mockingly said, "Wow, that was almost too easy," in a condescending tone. "Frankly, Rahmyn, I expected a little more resilience from someone with your family name."
With her right hand still gripping the katana hilt, Nora's knuckles whitened as she tightened her hold. The searing pain in her shoulder was briefly overshadowed by a new wave of pure, incandescent rage that swept through her system. Disregarding the severed arm, she stumbled to her feet and sprang forward, racing recklessly in the direction of the ridge where her sensors continued to detect Treskan. Her desperate advance was fueled by a surge of adrenaline. Her pounding feet kicked up dust and grime, which mixed with the blood that ran freely down her chest and useless arm. Killing the dishonorable cheat was her only goal as she ran straight at him, forgetting all the pain. Her mind cried out, "Forget the rules." Don't give up. He must pass away.
Treskan grinned up on the ridge and refocused his gaze comfortably on the rifle's scope. He purposefully squeezed the trigger. To Nora's right, his initial shot kicked up dirt yards. He missed his second attempt to the left.
Her left abdomen's armor was punched through with sickening force by the third round. It ripped through vital organs as it left close to her spine. Amazingly, for a brief moment, the devastating injury was concealed by the intensity of her anger and adrenaline. Despite her stumble, she continued to run, now propelled by pain unlike anything she had ever experienced and pure momentum. Disbelief and a growing horror replaced Treskan's smirk. She ought to be deceased! Over twice! Nobody could be moving after taking two blows from these rounds, could they? Now in a panic, he quickly reaimed and fired once more. Only a few yards from the ridge's base, this last bullet struck her right hip, breaking bone and sending her plummeting to the harsh ground. Weaponless, immobilized, and heavily bleeding from several devastating wounds, Nora eventually passed away. She forced the one word of surrender into her helmet comm while gritting her teeth. There was nothing else to do.
A raw, incoherent scream of frustrated fury tore through Nora's helmet as Treskan stood triumphantly on the ridge, raising his arms to milk the cheers of the unaware crowd. "I should have won!" she thought while her mind was clouded by pain. Only by cheating did he win! Despite the pain, Nora somehow rolled onto her stomach and started dragging herself pointlessly in Treskan's direction, driven by an instinctive desire to shoot the cheater's skull with her last Uzi magazine. She was swiftly but gently restrained by five arena medics who hurried onto the field before placing her on an anti-grav stretcher. Nora remembered nothing more as the world faded into gray static.
After several hours, Nora gradually regained consciousness. Strong painkillers and sedatives that were injected into her system left her feeling drowsy and confused. What had happened? Sharp, intense, and excruciating pain returned along with awareness. She took a sharp breath and winced. The fight, the impossible shots, the burning pain, giving up, the anger—all of it came flooding back. In a fit of rage, Nora sat bolt upright in the medical bed, trying to rush out and find the cheating bastard who was responsible. However, two uniformed medical facility guards stationed near her door stopped her and restrained her, albeit with great difficulty. Luna, Yan, Nayla, and Kieran, her companions, had already arrived in the recovery room after anxiously awaiting her return to consciousness.
Nora's friends gathered around her after the guards had firmly but gently led her back onto the diagnostic gurney, where she was recuperating from what had obviously been extensive surgical repair. Kieran had been quietly discussing the nature of Nora's injuries, including whether they might have been caused by regulation ammunition, with the chief attending physician in the corner while going over the medical scans. With a somber expression on his face, Kieran ended his conversation and moved to stand next to Nora's gurney.
"Well?" Luna stared at Kieran with her dark eyes and a dangerously quiet voice. "The decision? I swear, if that scum was cheating, I'll—" Kieran interrupted Luna's surely deadly pledge with a raised hand. The specifics of Luna's intended retaliation were really unnecessary to him.
Kieran said, "The doctor confirms it," in a cold, flat voice. "Nora's rated armor plating cannot be used to cause wounds like these with any type of legal, standard ammunition. But I'll have to examine the entry points on Nora's armor and analyze the projectile fragments recovered from her hip to be sure of the technique. We'll then be able to pinpoint exactly how this... gevno... managed to do it. The final word, an old Ravy homeworld slur saved for the most heinous cheaters and cowards, was spat out by him. Perhaps to Treskan's immediate advantage, none of the others knew the exact term or its full, poisonous meaning. Kieran had never felt such a cold, controlled rage, but it was meticulously concealed by years of discipline. It was more than just anger.
The next to speak was Nayla, who growled softly. Her ears were flattened back against her skull in aggression, her lips curled back slightly to bare elongated canines, the fur along her spine bristled, and the claws on her hands were fully, unconsciously, extended—all physical manifestations of her feline heritage were on display. "So you're saying that until you run your fucking tests, we can't do anything? Kieran, that's bullshit! We're aware that he cheated.
"I'm not saying he didn't cheat, Nayla," Kieran shot back coolly, looking directly into her enraged eyes. "I'm positive he did. I want scientific proof that is indisputable, proof that the Tournament Directorate cannot ignore or reject. Evidence that gives that bastard no justification whatsoever for appealing. We'll have that evidence after I inspect the impacts on the armor and the pieces of the projectile. We deal with him after that.
For the first time since waking up, Nora spoke while leaning back against the gurney and her eyes were burning brightly. "Whatever we do," she sounded, her voice tense with anger and pain, "make it... painful." I'm looking for... fulfillment. Kieran, how quickly can you finish the analysis?
"The fragments of the projectile and pieces of armor are now being released to me by the doctor. I can use the medbay's equipment to perform the analysis right here. No more than an hour. The administration of justice will be... adaptable after we provide the Directorate with indisputable evidence and invoke the Cheater's Clause, Nora. He used another new word, nekulturniy, and his tone made it clear that it was a pejorative one. (The unwritten but widely accepted "Cheater's Clause" that is ingrained in the intricate rules governing the majority of major tournaments stated that fighters who could offer concrete evidence of an opponent's willful, damaging cheating were frequently given... significant discretion... in choosing a suitable, frequently extrajudicial penalty. Although such documented cases were uncommon and the ensuing "punishments" could be infamously severe or even lethal, they were widely acknowledged—even implicitly approved—as necessary justice by the larger gladiatorial community. Kieran looked back at the doctor to make arrangements for the transfer of the important evidence. The doctor complied easily, taking out the sealed evidence container; like most arena circuit professionals, he had a deep disdain for cheaters who put fighters' lives in danger by using illegal means.
Kieran went back to the docked Kyara for a moment, preferring the more sophisticated equipment of his own ship. In just a few minutes, he had the largest recovered bullet fragment under his lab-grade spectroscope's lens, ready to examine its exact metallic makeup. To his initial surprise, the spectrographic analysis showed that the bullet's core structure contained no illegally dense metals or prohibited alloys. The most straightforward and popular technique for armor-defeating cheating was the use of illegal high-density penetrators. Not that, Kieran thought. Unfazed, he moved the fragment onto the platen of a powerful electron microscope, gradually increasing the magnification while carefully examining the outside of the fragment, nanometer by nanometer.
He examined it painstakingly for fifteen minutes before noticing something. On one side of the fragment's ogive, a tiny, nearly flawlessly blended seam line that suggested a micro-weld was barely discernible. Curious, he went back to the microscope and took out a vial of contrast dye and a micro-etching tool from his diagnostic kit. He repositioned the fragment under the lens after carefully applying the contrast dye, which is intended to draw attention to minute flaws or seams. The faint seam that traced a tiny, perfectly rectangular outline just beneath the fragment's surface was clearly visible under magnification thanks to the dye.
Under the guidance of the microscope, Kieran started to carefully trace and weaken the nearly invisible seam by carefully manipulating the micro-etching tool. Treskan had taken great care to conceal something that was undoubtedly hidden inside the projectile itself. Kieran was able to carefully pry open a tiny internal cavity within the bullet fragment after a few tense minutes when the weak seam gave way. Hair-thin wires, a tiny, forward-facing emitter that suspiciously resembled a directional antenna, and a densely packed cluster of micro-circuitry were all carefully removed by him using micro-forceps. He immediately understood its purpose. A chilly, menacing grin appeared on Kieran's face. They had their evidence now.