My back hit the wall as the chanting above swelled to a crescendo, getting my blood up. Grim staggered towards me. ‘Vak, you’re hurt.’
‘Grim,’ I choked out, waving him away. I didn’t recognise my own voice. ‘Don’t. Don’t come near me.’
‘Vak, I—’
‘Don’t!’ I shouted. ‘It’s not safe!’
Grim seemed to notice the bodies piled up around him for the first time. To realise where we were. He took a cautious step back. The sly playfulness drained away, leaving a cornered animal. My hands tightened on the railing. I’d been so stupid to lean into the euphoria and energy, to let the whirlpool drag me back down. But now it was up, I had no way of clamping it down. Blue sweat slithered down my ribs and oxygen burned in my lungs. I knew my reserves were draining fast, but my body told me it was a lie and I had to keep fighting. It’s how we won the Reaper war: we were very hard to kill, and we didn’t stop until we were dead.
Because we didn’t know when to stop killing.
My eyes locked on to the Harvest clan tattoos on Grim’s bare arms. The same pattern I’d seen so many times, on the Berserker killsquads who ambushed and attacked us. On the Harvesters who massacred civilians and laughed as they died. On dead Harvesters in mass graves. I felt my jaw locking, and was halfway to Grim before I realised I was moving. One step, two steps, four. He didn’t cower, didn’t run from me. I gave him a violent shove. ‘Get away from me!’ I croaked, tears blurring my vision.
But he didn’t. He just stood, back against the wall, watching me approach. His loyalty, our friendship, anchoring him in place. He was too good a friend to leave me. He thought too much of me to believe I would do it. It was like fighting against a wave of molasses, to stop the stormtech for the sake of my friend, this little scruffy guy who’d befriended a Reaper. But I couldn’t hurt him. I was better than that. He’d follow me to the edge of the universe, as I would for him, because we were best friends. I tore away from him without throwing a punch, screaming out the stormtech and sinking to my knees, panting like a battered dog.
‘One of you ain’t walking out of here alive,’ crackled the announcer. The stormtech tugged and strained against the insides of my flesh, as if trying to rip itself from my skin to attack Grim. It wouldn’t let me die. If it had to overpower me to kill him to survive, it would.
Me or him.
Then I heard it coming for us. The crowds screeching in protest as it ran through them. A metallic scrape, and then a shape plummeted over the banisters and thudded into the pit.
I couldn’t have called Kowalski without being shot. But I had been able to use my palmerlog to summon my armour.
I slid inside. Its powerful limbs, the whirring interior, clamped around my body and sealed tight, lending me strength and clarity, helping me push back the stormtech. Servomechanisms clicked. My HUD flickered on, all systems functional. I leaped into the air, hydraulics giving me that extra distance. The stormtech wanted me to keep fighting, to keep the blood pumping so I’d stay alive.
But it didn’t care who I fought.
I’d caught a of glimpse of Simmons from the area. Now I snagged a chain off the banister and flicked it as I fell, looping it around his neck. He was yanked forward, my weight choking him. He gurgled as I hit the floor, trying to pry the crushing chains away from his throat. My body clenched and my armpits strained as I pulled down harder, harder still on the chains, choking the life out of him.
‘You did this to yourself,’ I rasped as blue circled up my chest. He’d put me in the arena to kill my best friend. Now, he squawked and thrashed wildly as his face turned red. ‘Got nothing to say?’
He flipped backwards over the banister, smashing through a platform and hitting the floor with a dull crack, his neck broken and larynx crushed to a pulp.
I turned to Grim, peering at me through the strands of his wild hair. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ I croaked. He gave a nod as people began yelling, figuring out that the fight wasn’t what they’d paid to see.
‘Don’t let them escape!’ That sounded like Lasky. ‘Put that rabid Reaper down!’
My armour allowed me to spring upwards, running along the arena’s infrastructure, punching through the jutting beams that prevented arena combatants who had second thoughts from following up on them, and climbing over to freedom. Grim grabbed onto the chain, my body’s newfound strength allowing me to haul him upwards to safety with me. I drew my handcannon as we turned into chaos. People trying to claim their bets at the now-shuttered stations, others fighting over cards and stacks of Commoner winnings, people surging to escape. My trigger-finger itched. They’d been delighted to bet how fast I could break someone’s neck or have my own broken. To see me go crazier and crazier as the stormtech took over.
I could have mowed them all down like they were Harvest soldiers.
But I wouldn’t. That wasn’t me. It never would be. Instead, I fired three flat, echoing blasts into the ceiling that got the message out pretty clearly. They scattered. I made my way purposefully through the crowd towards the exit, taking Grim with me. I looked, but there was no one from the House of Suns to be seen.
There was a squad of armoured soldiers between us and the door. I’d aimed at the leader before I recognised them, a Harmony chainship landing outside, armed men and women spilling down the disembarkation ramp.
It was Kowalski.
I lowered the handcannon. ‘Right on time,’ I said.
All
