Arena Mode (21 page)

“Yeah, how’s that?” I took a small step backwards, careful to keep Serafina in my peripheral vision. I didn’t want her to disappear into my blind spot. The statuesque model with acidic blood was slowly circling the rooftop’s perimeter, peering over the edges at the street below.

“I reckoned that someone so clever would’ve figured out Arena Mode by now.” Arirose spread her hands wide and motioned around her. “But, here you are, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure I’m following.” I continued my retreat, taking another cautious step backwards.

She smiled and looked towards Serafina. “Amazing, isn’t it Butcher?” she shouted. “The Yank
still
doesn’t get it.”

Her partner didn’t even turn her head. “Don’t call me that,” she replied with an angry huff.

Arirose leaned towards me. “My friend is a bit touchy about her nickname,” she whispered. “I don’t blame her, really. When Frost insisted we all have one, she got stuck with something
very
unflattering. Plus I think it brings up bad memories. I ended up with ‘Transcendent’, and to be honest I’m not even sure what that means.”

“It means going beyond the ordinary limits,” I said without missing a beat. Apparently my impulse to explain things was impossible to turn off. It was like Tourette’s syndrome, but instead of screaming random obscenities, I spouted useless information.

Arirose nodded her head in approval and cracked a crooked smile. “Not bad, Mox. You
are
quite the sharp one. But for a clever bloke you’re playing this game like quite the dipstick.”

“Dipstick?”

“An
idiot
,” she insisted. “You see, there was nothing in the rules about finding a teammate, so when The Butcher here...”

“
Serafina,
” her partner shouted from the opposite side of the roof, growing more agitated.

“Apologies,” Arirose replied, holding both palms up as if in surrender. “
Serafina
here met with me in Chinatown, and we decided to watch each other’s backs. If you were as smart as Frost said, you’d have a partner as well. He might have prevented this from happening.” She waved her hand in a small circular motion, blinding me with a streak of pink light.

I collapsed, crashing awkwardly to my back. Every muscle ached, and I was completely prone, unable to move. Then, slowly, the pain began to spread, searing through my nerve endings.

“Sorry, I know that hurts like a bitch,” Arirose said bluntly, “but that’s the game, isn’t it? Take every opportunity you can.”

I knew that Arirose possessed psychic abilities – I’d researched, reviewed and memorized her entire online history – but I didn’t realize that she could do
this
. I felt like I’d been impaled by a thousand invisible needles, pinning me to the rooftop. It was excruciating.

Arirose looked down and shook her head. “I’d like to give you some more pointers, mate, but I don’t think you’ll be around long enough to put them to use.”

The pain caused me to clench my jaw like a vice – I could feel my molars about to crack. “Well this has been fascinating,” I said, wincing in agony. “How about you let me up and we make this a fair fight, huh ladies?”

“If you think the word ‘fair’ is part of my vocabulary,” Arirose scoffed, “then you
really
are an idiot.”

“Stop with this nonsense,” The Butcher shouted. “Just
finish
him and we’ll be gone.”

“Wait,” Arirose replied, extending a palm towards her partner. She stared into my eyes and squinted slightly. I could feel her inside my mind, clawing through my thoughts. Clear memories of my past were scrambling, bleeding into each other. I tried to fight it. I couldn’t let her know that I wasn’t a superhuman. There were likely a dozen cameras pointed at us
, and without a doubt this confrontation was being broadcast live; my lie would be exposed to every other competitor, and the rest of the world.

Arirose crouched next to me. “Well bugger me dead, the Yank thinks he can hide something from us.” She reached out and rapped her hand into my forehead. “Whatever ya got hidden in there, I can scrape it out. Just need to prod around a bit and find what I’m looking for.”

“What could
he
know?” Serafina said, unconvinced.

“Well we don’t know yet,
do
we?” Arirose snapped back. “That’s what I’m fixing to find out.”

I pictured Cameron Frost’s mantelpiece: his katana. The sword he’d used to kill fifty-seven others in combat. I’d seen it so many times it was clearer than a high resolution image in my mind; with the help of my photographic memory, it was like a three-dimensional hologram.

And as my mind rolled over every conceivable detail, I projected it right into its location: the casket across the rooftop.

Just minutes ago, I flipped open the lid with the silver emblem, and saw a replica of that very same sword. Then I panicked, slamming it shut the moment I heard a pair of footsteps clanging up the fire escape.

“That was a bad move, mate,” Arirose said with an unsettling smile. “Why did you ditch the sword? It was your only chance for survival. Thought you’d trick us, did you?”

“Don’t open it,” I said, with as much urgency as I could manage. “It’ll explode.”

Arirose shook her head again, staring at me with pity; as if my pathetic attempt to bargain my way out of the situation had failed miserably, and she was sympathetic – even embarrassed for me.

Serafina strolled over, looking down at my body. “I was going to suggest dropping him from the roof, but that might just break his legs. Stabbing him will be easier. And then I’ll have my first elimination.”

“What do you mean
you’ll
have your first elimination?” Arirose asked, turning her back to me. As her concentration shifted, I could feel a number of the invisible needles loosening. The sensation returned to my toes and fingertips.

“It’s
mine
,” Serafina argued, waving a finger in Arirose’s face. “I’ve been handling blades since I was five. I should be in charge of it.” She marched towards the casket with her partner in tow.

I had just enough feeling in my arms to roll over and take cover while she flung open the lid.

Standing inches from the explosion, The Butcher didn’t just blow apart – she liquefied. When she threw open the casket, the blast radius was relatively small, but Serafina’s black, acidic blood spattered the rooftop like a torrential downpour. I was already facedown with my head buried beneath my gauntlets. Some of the drops spattered the back of my forearms and began to eat their way through the metal, searing my skin below. I screamed and tore off my gloves, tossing them aside as they continued to sizzle.

I still had no clue which competitors remained in the tournament, but I knew what the score was on the rooftop.

Darwin: two.

Arirose and Serafina: zero.

The rooftop had been reduced to a blackened mess, sizzling as it faltered and sagged.
Serafina’s corrosive blood had showered the entire area, causing the gravel to bubble and pop – and in some places, completely cave in.

My head spun. The overwhelming stench of burning flesh, combined with melting tar, overwhelmed my senses. Eyes watering, I cupped a hand over my nose and stumbled awkwardly towards the fire escape. And that’s when I heard her.

It was an innocent cry for help from a young girl; judging by her voice no more than five-years-old. I turned and scanned the smoking rooftop. No one was there.

This was insane. I had to be experiencing a hallucination – a side effect triggered by my lack of medication ... but the voice was
so
convincing. I could hear it with perfect clarity, ringing out from behind a twisted pile of seared metal (likely the remains of the casket that had exploded just moments ago.)

I tiptoed across the melting roof and booted the fragments aside, revealing Arirose – or what was left of her. Her face, torso, and right arm were still somewhat intact, twitching involuntarily, but the charred remains of her lower half were burnt beyond recognition. Her legs were blistered and peeling, exposing the bone beneath. I could hear the acid continuing to eat through her muscle tissue, like steaks searing on a barbecue.

Shaken, I took a clumsy step backwards.

She was luring me in. She had to be. This was a last-ditch attempt by Arirose to exact her revenge, and kill me before she drew her final breath. The smart move would be to turn, run, and put as much distance between myself and this collapsing rooftop as possible. Yet I stared down at her, unable to look away.

Then her jaw moved, ever so slightly, and a raspy breath escaped her throat. Arirose wanted to say something – desperately trying to force out a word – only her vocal chords failed to respond.

And then I was blinded.

A blur of pink light flashed from her eyes, and my mind flooded with images. Swirling, disjointed visions that reflected from a shattered mirror, overlapping and colliding with each other. I could hear voices as well, but they stuttered, like an ancient video file that was trying to buffer. Whatever message that Arirose was trying to deliver, it wasn’t working – at least not completely.

I scraped at my temples, trying to will her out of my mind. Amidst the whirlwind of sights and sounds, one image snapped into focus. It brightened and clarified while the others faded into the void. The memory was of an elderly woman with a rose tied into her hair, dying in a hospital bed. At her bedside was Arirose, clutching her frail hand with tears streaming down her face. As she offered the doctor a final nod of affirmation, he pulled the plug, cutting the woman’s life support. Arirose looked on as her loved one peacefully drifted away.

The visions dissipated, and I knew exactly what the psychic was asking of me. With injuries this extensive, she was going to die. She knew it as well as I did. Her fate was to lie in a puddle of her own burning flesh, slowly cooking until she expired in a matter of seconds, or minutes – or if she was especially unfortunate, hours. There was no way to tell. But if I didn’t intervene, this young woman would perish in the most excruciating way that I could possibly imagine.

I crouched next to her, wiping the blood-soaked curls from her face.

This could be a trap,
I repeated to myself
. The smart move is to run.
After all, I had no obligation to help her, moral or otherwise. And it was doubtful that Arirose would have been so compassionate had I been stuck in her position. But this wasn’t about how she would have reacted had our situations been reversed; this was about who
I
was, and the compassion I’d extend to someone who didn’t deserve it.

I stroked her hair and offered a small, reassuring nod. I reached out for her with my other hand, but it trembled. I drew back.

Damn it
... of every scenario that I anticipated before Arena Mode, I never expected this to be one of them. My plan was to lay low, avoid conflict, and escape while my hands were relatively clean. Tricking Serafina and Arirose into opening the casket was one thing. It was completely justified. Self defense. But leaving her like this ...

If I followed through and did what Arirose was asking of me, there was no turning back. I’d have this experience carved into my memory forever. I just wasn’t sure if I could live with the alternative.

I slowly reached out and cupped my hand over her nose and mouth, blocking her airway. An unbearable minute ticked by that felt like an hour. Her deep hazel eyes exploded with pink energy, a burst that lasted only a heartbeat. The light quickly extinguished, and it was over. Arirose mercifully slipped away.

I stood and inhaled deeply, attempting to clear my head. The sickening combination of smells jolted me back to the present moment, and I made my way towards the fire escape.

I had taken only a few steps when my foot fell through the roof, lodging my right leg into the sagging mess of melting tar and gravel. It was like being knee-deep in quicksand: the more I struggled, the further I sank. I was stuck, and wasn’t going anywhere soon.

While I struggled to free my thick armored boot, I noticed the implant on the back of my hand illuminating: I was camping. Being pinned down for so long by Arirose, I must not have noticed the blinking light or the itching sensation. The device had passed the point of offering a friendly warning. The solid red light was beaming from beneath my skin, growing brighter with each passing second. Suddenly a three-dimensional map projected from the back of my hand, with the name ‘Matthew Moxon’ clearly marked above it. A crimson dot pulsed inside the detailed diagram, pinpointing my location. This was Frost’s incentive to keep the competitors moving: get caught camping and he’d tell everyone in The Arena exactly where you were.

I was no longer thinking straight as I pounded my fists into the rooftop around me. I flailed furiously, screaming and cursing my circumstances. Not surprisingly, it did nothing to improve my situation. My outburst only served to further exhaust me as I baked under the midday sun.

After a few moments of exertion, I drew in a labored breath and buried my face into my palms. I’d given up. Not just on escaping the rooftop, or on winning the competition ... since I heard the news about my tumor, it was the first time I’d completely given up on my life.