“What exactly did the Lakunae do to you?”
“Probably the same thing they did to you,” she said. “It was weird. It hurt, but the pain… it was more metaphysical than actual, real pain. It felt like I was being taken apart, molecule by molecule, changed, and then, put back to together. When I woke up, I’d crashed into the planet.”
Her mouth worked but no words came out, so I waited.
“At first, I thought it was something my mind did with those damned drugs they insist in injecting us with, you know?” she said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said with a nod. “It sounds like we had the same experience. They didn’t blather on and on about their artifacts and what they wanted you to do with them?”
“No. They just said I’d be useful.”
“So, what can you do?” I asked.
“I throw things, mostly,” she said with a sigh. “That’s why this pen is so clean. If they leave even a pebble behind, you can bet I’ll put it through someone’s eye. When I was first captured, I killed three guards with a spoon they forgot in my cell. I would’ve killed four, but I threw it at the last guard. It went right in his eye, stuck out the back of his ugly head, and pinned him to the stone wall, too far away for me to reach it.”
“Before you were a dangerous killer with anything bladed or that could shoot,” I said. “Now you’re practically lethal with anyone.”
“So, what can you do, big boy?” she asked, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Except for me, of course.”
I returned her smile and quickly took her in my arms. I lifted her so she was almost touching the bars that closed us off from the guards above. I took her in one hand, then put her in my palm, before shifting her over until I was holding her up with only a finger.
“You got strong,” Reaver said as she dropped to the ground. “Is that all?”
“Heh, you’ll see exactly how strong if we enter the arena.”
“Against each other?”
My stomach coiled. I hadn’t thought of that. Was this the guards’ sick way of torturing us? Allow Reaver and I to unite, only to fight each other to the death in the arena?
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. I was probably stronger than anyone they could try to stop us. As soon as we had an opportunity, I was breaking us both out.
Reaver slumped against the wall, and I joined her. The guards stared down at us from above, and I clenched my fist opened and closed. It would feel good to kill them for enslaving Reaver.
She picked a piece of rubber from her shoe and flung it at a guard. It bounced off his forehead, but I doubted it didn’t anything except sting a little.
“What was that?” he yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Trying to give you human-germs you fuck!” Reaver sneered. “You ever heard of… cooties? It’s a horrible disease, and you don’t want it; trust me.”
“I don’t trust you, human,” the guard said. “I trust your germs even less. Sit in your filth and die of the cooties.” With a huff, he turned and marched away from the opening.
I almost laughed. Reaver did laugh but covered it up well enough by pretending her giggles and snorts were coughs and wheezing.
“Well done,” I whispered.
It was good to be reunited with her. Whatever happened, I’d ensure I never had to fight against her.
The next match was over almost before it started. It featured a big alien that resembled a centaur, if centaurs were green, almost 12 feet tall, and with their bottom half being a spider instead of a horse.
The spider-thing tore off one of its own legs the second it entered the arena and threw it like a spear. The other alien, some kind of multi-armed creature, dodged—almost. The spider’s still-twitching makeshift spear pierced the other alien’s shoulder and threw it back. The spider-alien was on its opponent in an instant, beating with two-knuckle giant fists until the other alien was no more than a quivering pile of green-blooded mush.
There was only one spot for the clean-up crew to pay attention to. They scraped up the gooey dirt, replaced it from wheelbarrow-like contraptions, and left the arena.
The crowd didn’t make a sound, so I figured they were shocked at the speed of the match. Apparently, they enjoyed a good fight, and quick ones weren’t good.
“Wow, that was quite a match,” Siddith said through several rusty speakers located near the edges of the arena. “But the next fight is going to be a real treat! You’ve seen her once. You’ve seen her twice. You’ve seen her slice and dice! It’s Beatrix the Bloody! And her lovely team, the Execution Squad!”
A cheer erupted from the crowd, loud enough to make the cell walls shake. It was so loud, I could barely hear the announcer relaying the fighter’s stats. He said something about the many wins, zero losses, and I was pretty sure he mentioned tomatoes.
The hologram in the center of our pen began to show Beatrix fighting, smashing, and killing her opponents. There was blood, then more blood, then body parts flying in all directions. She looked experienced and fast. The hologram seemed to grow and shrink as if whoever filmed her had been drunk, or the camera was swinging in and out like a pendulum.
My face flickered up on the screen beside Reaver’s. I couldn’t tell whether it meant we would be fighting each other, or whether we would go against Beatrix and the Execution Squad together.
Either way, we were about to go to war.
Reaver breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks like we’re not fighting each other,” she said.
All the muscles in my body relaxed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m
