Sparks ran. A third shot hit the wall just beside him, spraying concrete. He darted around the side of the building, breathing in desperate, frantic gasps. But he could breathe properly; hopefully, that meant the bullet hadn’t punctured his lungs.
He stumbled on, following the wall. The pulse in his chest beat so hard he thought it might shatter his rib cage. He looked down at the blood gushing out of the wound. He pressed his hand against it, hoping to stem the flow. Sticky redness ran through his fingers, quickly washed away by the rain.
“Stop!”
Sparks didn’t know why he obeyed, but he pulled to a halt. He rested his free hand against the wall and turned to face the shooter. The militia looked as disbelieving as Sparks felt, the gun shook in his hands as he aimed it at Sparks. He was young, maybe even younger than Sparks. His blond hair lay flat, plastered against his head.
Sparks retreated a step backwards. I get killed by a fucker like him? Please no.
“You…” the militia stammered. “Are you Candle?”
Despite the pain, Sparks wanted to laugh. How typical. The bastard wanted to be the hero who killed the Ministry’s biggest enemy. But what kind of hero would use a gun to shoot someone in the back?
“I’m sorry…” Sparks leaned against the wall, both hands now clutching it for support. He managed one slow, deep breath, focusing the pounding in his chest to regular, hammering thumps. The light from his heart lit up the wall, revealing every fracture. “… to disappoint you.”
He pushed.
The wall gave way.
A gunshot rang.
Sparks dropped to the ground and rolled, scrambling to get away from the falling stone. The ground groaned beneath him, shaking. Something heavy slammed down on his leg. Roaring with pain, he tore free and dragged himself along the ground. A crack split the concrete in front of him.
There was a terrible, piercing shriek of metal.
Sparks looked up, raining stinging in his eyes. One of the steel towers began to tip. The wires hanging from it swayed violently as they dropped lower. He recalled what those wires had done to the militia earlier.
The tower fell, its huge steel frame heading straight for Sparks.
15
Gavin punched Roman in the face, and the crowd roared their approval. Roman reeled back, head spinning. He would have fallen if not for the two thugs holding him by his shoulders. At least the fresh pain in his face distracted him from his aching ribs and gut – the last two places to receive Gavin’s punches.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Gavin said.
Roman didn’t dignify him with a response.
They had dragged him to the middle of the fighting pit. Roman wasn’t sure what he hated more: the pain, or being used for entertainment. He looked around at the spectators with loathing. After everything he had done for this city, all the Adrenalites he had captured, they applauded his suffering.
To hell with them. Fuck this city.
The blow struck Roman in the nose. Tears stung in his eyes, blurring his vision. The crowd’s cheering rang in his ears.
“This is all a bonus for me, my good man,” Gavin said. “I was only expecting to capture Candle tonight. Imagine my excitement when I got you as well.”
Again, Roman kept his mouth shut.
“Do you know why I hate you?” Gavin asked, then kicked him in the groin. Nausea washed over Roman. “It’s because you’ve always been a self-righteous prick who looked down on everyone else, thinking you were somehow better. Well guess what? You’re not.”
“Go to hell.”
Gavin grinned. “Don’t you get it? This is hell. Humanity died a hundred years ago, along with the world. This is our purgatory.”
The sound of struggling came from behind Roman. He twisted his head to see Tan being pushed into the pit, a thug kicked him in the back of the legs and he stumbled to his knees. Despite his black eye and blood leaking from a cut in his cheek, he was grinning.
He looked up at Roman and winked. “We’ve got them right where we want them, right?”
Gavin strode forward and kicked Tan in the face.
“Don’t touch him!” Roman yelled, fighting to break free of the thugs holding him. It was no use.
Tan pushed himself back to his knees. “It’s okay, Boss,” he sputtered. “I’ve had more aggressive lovers than this.”
Gavin planted a boot on Tan’s back and forced him to the ground. He pulled out a knife. There were bloodstains on its handle.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” Roman struggled harder, desperate. He couldn’t let Tan die. No way. “If you kill him, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Gavin chuckled. “I hold all the power here. If I want to turn him into a skinless puppet, that’s my right. My choice.”
“I’m your enemy, not him. Let Tan go and hurt me instead.”
“I could do that…” Gavin cocked his head, scratching his chin as if considering Roman’s suggestion. “But I understand men like you: the best way to hurt you is through hurting him.”
“You’re an evil bastard!”
“That’s what my mother used to say.”
The spectators chanted their approval as Gavin bent over Tan, bringing the knife down. Tan writhed frantically, but two thugs came alongside him and held his arms. Roman’s heart hammered in his chest.
In the end, Gavin ran the blade through Tan’s hair, cutting a chunk out from afro. He tossed the hair aside and took another swipe. Another chunk of hair fell away. Gavin laughed. Roman went limp, overcome with relief.
“Mother-fucking-piece-of-shit,” Tan was shouting, “damn-cocky-bastard!”
Someone else was screaming, high-pitched and full of terror. Someone in the crowd.
Roman looked for the source of the screaming. What was happening? The screaming escalated as more voices joined in. Roman’s eyes narrowed on the bleachers to his left. The crowd was parting, scrambling to get away from—
A woman. Her chest shone blue. A bloody, mangled body lay at her feet, its arm completely torn off. The Adrenalite began to run down the bleachers, jumping the steps in giant strides. She charged straight towards the fighting pit.
The thugs holding Roman cursed, loosening their grip. He used the opportunity to pull himself free and lunge at Gavin. He tackled him at the waist and they both toppled to the ground. Roman fought to stay on top, grabbing Gavin by the wrist with one hand while punching him with the other. Gavin’s blood splattered across the floor. Roman reached into Gavin’s jacket, searching. His fingers found the familiar grip of his pistol.
“I’ll be taking this back.” Roman hit Gavin again — this time with the butt of the gun. The gangster howled in rage, his free hand trying to close around Roman’s neck.
Roman pushed Gavin’s hand away and looked up. Shit. Another Adrenalite. The monster fought against two of Gavin’s men. As Roman watched, the Adrenalite picked up a thug with one hand and threw him halfway across the hall.
A hand grabbed Roman by the shoulder, pulling him off Gavin. “Boss, we need to leave. Now.”
The lights died.
Roman stumbled to his feet, clinging to Tan for balance. “Oh, it’s about damn time.”
“Patience is a virtue, Boss.”
“Virtue isn’t going to help us now.”
“In that case, I suggest we resort to good, old-fashioned violence.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Roman regained his bearings. The only light came from a half dozen glowing blue forms scattered around the room. Was Candle one of them? Cracks of gunfire cut through the screams. Chaos ruled throughout the hall.