Milna sprung forward, charging her target. She needed him to last a little longer, to put her in a truly desperate situation to excuse her plan. To that end, she swung wide, praying he had the peace of mind to evade or block. If not, she’d finish him off and likely be back the next time, wasting several cycles in the process.
He ducked at the last second. Milna made a show of striking the tether, allowing her hand to become entangled. The man roared, wrapping his hand around her forehead. He yanked on her, trying to make her bend backward. She writhed her hand free of the rope wall, stumbling with him.
She saw his hand raise above her, forming a fist he might bring down like a hammer. Using her right hand, she caught it before he could get her in the throat. That deflection could’ve turned into something fatal for him but she let him go as he brought her to the ground. Wrapping his legs around her waist, he attempted to get a stranglehold with his forearm.
Milna dug her fingertips into his arm as he started to squeeze. She found the pressure points, giving him a moment of desperate, hopeful grunting. His sounds rose above the crowd as they went wild, belting out their pleasure at the potential end. Many of them did not indulge in violence themselves so they looked forward to witnessing it from others.
Those arenas were not entirely legal. Often the authorities looked the other way. If that man killed Milna, there’d be no investigation. Her body would be disposed of and everyone there would move on with their lives until the next time. She estimated at least one person died every three matches or so.
The chance of death compelled the spectators though they screamed a little louder when a neck broke or a body went limp.
Voices came to her as her hearing tunneled. She heard them crying out for her life, ordering him to finish her off. It must’ve been getting bad. Either the look on her face or the color of her lips… something compelled them to believe it was close. But they were so wrong and in a few short moments…
Digging her fingers into the pressure points, the constriction on her throat immediately loosened. She took a quick breath then twisted his forearm, one hand down the one nearest his elbow up. The snap from his shoulder sounded out, drawing a shocked gasp from the audience.
As he tried to scamper away, Milna let out a cry of rage, spinning on him. She pounced on him, screaming wildly while bringing her fist down on him. He tried to block, using his injured arm the first time. The blow must’ve been excruciating, as his mouth opened wide, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Her next shot got him in the throat. She hit him until the tension there turned soft. Blood flowed freely from the sides of his mouth. Dead eyes stared up at her but she didn’t stop. Not until two people pulled her off of him. Even then, she kicked him twice before calming down. The two men tossed her against the wall, holding their arms up defensively.
“I am fine.” Milna waved them down. “He tried to kill me.”
One of the two stepped over to the dead man, checking his pulse. He held up his hand, thumb down. The crowd went mad, screaming and yelling with such glee she had a hard time not cringing from it. All that noise bothered her. She hated large crowds and standing in front of that one bothered her all the more.
But instead, she stood tall, looking over them as they adored the murder. These cretins take pleasure in death. Milna never understood the hunger for watching a person lose their life. Her tasks never brought her pleasure. Duty drove her on. They mattered. This creature on the floor was the means to an end. Yet for those here, he represents catharsis from their lives.
“You’ve won the pot,” someone close to her called. “Collect your winnings.”
Now to run a big risk. This might be where I fail my mission. Taking all that money and trying to leave alone would’ve been foolish for anyone. Most of the people participating brought friends or relatives to back them up. As she left the arena, making a show of injury, she thought about who might come after her for the cash.
Someone with more desperation than me. Milna heard about vultures at those events who watched the fights then went after the winners afterward. They’d attack quickly, grabbing them while they were exhausted from the struggle. They’re used to winning too. As long as they come, this will work out.
The pot that day proved to be plenty of credits to pay one’s lodgings for three months. She feigned disappointment, making a comment that it wouldn’t cover her debts. Stuffing it way, she returned to the cordoned off area where her things were stored in a locker. She changed into grubby clothes, sliding two knives up her sleeves in the process.
Glancing in a mirror, she smiled at the ghastly face looking back at her. Blood covered her pale cheeks, a black bruise under her left eye gave her some character. She had taken plenty of punishment in the brawl, enough to convince anyone of her desperation rather than total command of her body.
A facade I hope will pay off shortly.
“You want an escort?” A big guy at the door muttered as she stepped out. “I can do it for a small fee.”
“I want nothing from you.”
Milna didn’t look at him as she headed for the door, making a play at feeling cagey. Most of the crowds had filed out already. The authorities occasionally broke the events up, though they
