by Ramy Vance
Terra showed no outward sign of appreciation, but on the inside, she was screaming with joy. This wasn’t going to be her last fight, but it was going to be a good one.
Chapter Thirteen
The extraction party gathered at the hadron collider around two.
Abby had only just informed Anabelle that Terra was being taken to what was billed as her final fight. She’d also drawn up a statement of intention that was emailed to the vast majority of news outlets throughout the world, letting them know what Terra was about to experience.
They would still have the option of viewing the fight, but Abby believed broadcasting it posed ethical questions she didn’t feel comfortable assuming about others.
Abby would have preferred not to have broadcast the fight. She wasn’t sure if this was all going to work out as planned. If something went wrong, she would basically be making an intergalactic snuff film. That wasn’t something she’d be proud of.
Anabelle had been the one to suggest leaving the decision up to the media. Whatever they decided, it would be on their heads. She believed the world should see it like back in the good old days of propaganda, the only difference being that this war actually threatened to destroy all of humanity. This wasn’t a question of being too sensitive for the viewers. If people didn’t see what was happening, there was a good chance they would stop caring.
Anabelle was quite cunning in this regard. It was something Abby respected, but it also kind of scared her. If such a kind and sweet person had the capacity to ignore the value of human life for their own gain, what else was she capable of? And was that going to be expected of her at some point?
As Abby pondered the end product of her time with HQ and its ramifications, the other soldiers assembled. Blackwell and Naota were speaking quietly together. They seemed to have quickly formed a bond of friendship. Anyone who didn’t look closely would have been confused. Blackwell seemed to be annoyed with Naota, and Naota confused by Blackwell.
Yet they searched each other out during the day, and there was often laughter between the two, but at what, no one knew.
The seven other recruits and soldiers were folks Abby had not seen before. She wondered how the other soldiers who had been in her squad were doing now. She would have assumed more would have come along. But few, if any, of those soldiers were fused with nanobots and an AI on a genetic level. The humans probably needed a lot more rest.
That was the first time Abby had ever thought of it like that. “The humans.” As if she weren’t one of them. Maybe she wasn’t anymore.
Creon prepared the hadron collider as he and Anabelle explained the way human physics and strength worked on other worlds throughout the nine realms. Anabelle said they were going to get an increase in strength and endurance, but it was dependent on factors that weren’t always easy to understand. Even though Terra didn’t seem to have any military or weight training, she had managed to kill a balrog.
Creon and Anabelle suggested the recruits not assume they would be that strong. A proper estimate would be Captain America, not the Hulk. She asked if the soldiers would prefer to go in with exosuits.
Blackwell suggested without suits, citing that the suits were only designed to help them compensate. Even with all the upgrades Abby had performed, there was still a chance they would just slow them down. If they could hold their own without the exosuits, they should be abandoned.
There were no disagreements, though Naota made sure to point out that he’d never used an exosuit, nor had he needed one. At those words, Blackwell looked as if he were ready to punch Naota. The bickering between the two quickly dissipated.
Once the soldiers were briefed, Anabelle turned her attention to Blackwell and Naota, speaking to them privately. As the final preparations were being put into place, Abby walked back and forth, wishing she had something to do other than think about how badly everything could go.
She had formulated nearly the entirety of the plan. Creon and Martin had helped a lot with the math she had to learn for the formulas, but Abby had done most of the work. There was a chance that they wouldn’t be transported anywhere, that the frequencies Abby had tuned the collider to simply weren’t strong enough.
Or their coordinates could be wrong, and Abby could end up sending the entire squad into space. That would be a great way to die—suffocating while being reminded you weren’t nearly as smart as you or anyone else thought you were.
Abby’s favorite option of what could happen was getting to the arena and not being able to get back.
Abby had never had to deal with the fear of failure before. She’d always understood that sometimes you failed and sometimes you didn’t, but she’d never faced stakes as high as these. Failure meant death. Maybe not for her, but for someone else.
“Hey,” a voice said from behind Abby.
Abby turned. Persephone was standing behind her, cradling her tentacle. Persephone’s biomechanical aspects seemed to have disappeared. Except for that, she looked like a normal drow. “I heard you were all meeting down here,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to be here. I just wanted to thank you, you know, for helping me.”
The solid lump in Abby’s throat kept her from speaking. The only sound that came out was a loud squeak. When she tried again, the sound was sort of a squeal, the muffled sound a mouse makes when it has no other option. Finally, Abby managed to swallow and choked out, “You’re welcome.”
The human and the drow stood there awkwardly, each seemingly afraid to meet the other’s eyes, finding anything and everything else to look at. Finally, the drow leaned forward and kissed Abby on the cheek. “Thanks,” she said again before turning to run away.
Anabelle’s voice rang out above the clamor of the area. “Hey!” she shouted. “You here because you’re combat-ready?”
Persephone stopped in her tracks, turned, and pointed at herself. “Me?”
“You’re the only person who doesn’t seem to have a reason for being here otherwise.”
Persephone looked down at her tentacle. “I don’t know if it’s safe,” she said finally.
“All right, if you’re not feeling—”
“For any of you.”
Anabelle, along with everyone else in the hangar, stopped what they were doing and turned to Persephone. “Not that I would… It’s just, I can get out of control easily,” the drow said.
Abby had expected Anabelle to call an end to the conversation, but for some reason, Anabelle smiled widely as she stepped closer to Persephone. “What kind of control?”
Persephone looked around uncomfortably, then peeked around Anabelle to see if Abby could help her. Abby shrugged, just as uncomfortable as Persephone. “It’s not quite magic that I use,” Persephone said. “And I…kinda lose myself…in a fight.”
Anabelle clapped her hands together excitedly. “Perfect. You cover Abby. Stick to her like glue. It’s imperative that Abby remains alive. That goes for the rest of you, too. None of us is getting home if Abby doesn’t stay alive. Got it?”
There was a chorus of hurrahs as Persephone stepped closer to Abby, then the other soldiers started to make their way toward the hadron collider’s teleportation pad. “Creon, send us through,” Anabelle shouted.
There was a sudden discharge of energy, the air growing hot, electricity snapping as the collider roared to life. And then they were gone, leaving Creon alone, staring at the space Terra’s final hope had once occupied, praying to his gods that they would all return safely.
Chapter Fourteen
The gates separating Terra from the arena rose. She inhaled slowly, trying to understand her mortality. Never one for dwelling on such things, the thoughts passed through her quickly and without much regard to their enormity. For the first time, she understood the finality and frailty of life in a fashion many philosophers had spent lifetimes attempting to discover.
One of the orcs pushed Terra, and she stumbled out into the arena. There were even more orcs in the crowd than before.
It looked as if additional seats had been built into the stands for the spectacle of her death. She felt ironically flattered as she walked out into the pit.
Terra’s opponent had not been released yet. She was curious to know what the Game Master thought was going to be strong enough to take her down. Apparently, trolls, balrogs, and whatever the hell she had fought last time weren’t nearly enough for her. Maybe it was time they busted out the dragons.
The crowd’s cheers were deafening. Terra could hardly hear herself think. Not that there was much to think about. Until her foe made themselves visible, nothing else mattered.
As Terra positioned her shield and katar, there was a popping sound near her. Suddenly the air got hot, filling with energy that made Terra think this was going to be the attack. The Game Master was probably just going to zap her with a cannon from outer space or something. It would definitely make for a good light show.
Instead, a portal opened in the middle of the arena. It looked as if reality were folding in on itself, showing that there was another world beneath the world which she regularly interacted with.
The crowd went wild at this sudden development. When they saw what stepped out of the portal, they instantly fell silent.
Anabelle, Abby, Persephone, and the rest of the rescue squad stood in the middle of the arena. They all looked confused by their appearance in the fighting pit.
Abby whirled, staring around her as if she’d taken a wrong turn on a road. “No, this ain’t where we’re supposed to come out,” she shouted. “Where’s the Dark Gate? This is the arena.”
Anabelle grabbed Abby and gave her two quick shakes. “Get your shit together. We’re not where we’re supposed to be, all right? Where are we?”
Abby looked around until her eyes fell on Terra, who was standing a little ways behind them. “Holy shit, we’re in the arena!”
Terra watched the newcomers with a sense of confusion. She was fairly certain these weren’t her opponents. They didn’t seem like they’d been prepared to fight. Then Terra recognized one of the voices. “Abby?”
Abby waved at Terra before running to her and throwing her arms around her.
Terra was taken aback by the hug from what seemed like a complete stranger, but it felt good to be acknowledged. She hugged Abby back. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Abby looked as if she were ready to cry, and her voice trembled. “We were coming to bust you out, but something went wrong. We weren’t supposed to come into the arena with you.”
A voice boomed over the silence of the crowd. Up on the podium, observing the entirety of arena, was the Game Master, strapped to the body of a massive orc. “Ah, you’ve finally arrived, Earthlings,” the Game Master shouted. “We’ve been watching your progress. The hacking and tech you’ve been using leaves a very unique energy signature.”
The middle of the arena opened, and a platform rose from the crack in the ground. On top of the platform was a small EMP bomb. It lit up for a second and then fired, sending an electromagnetic pulse throughout the arena.
Abby’s drones, along with her tracker, short-circuited and fell to the ground.
“Now that we’re certain you won’t be leaving before you’ve been given a proper greeting, allow me to introduce you to your deaths.”
On the other side of the arena, the gates rose. A horde of orcs marched out. They were followed by four balrogs and a cadre of goblins. Then there was a sudden roar, followed by another, even more high-pitched and fierce.
From the darkness stepped two full-grown red dragons. They both stood at least twelve feet at the shoulder, shooting fire from their gullets as they reared up on their back legs, screeching and flapping their wings.
Terra took a step back, stricken with fear at the sight of the dragons. She was backing away, but the slim elf with the ice-cold eyes didn’t seem to be fazed by their odds.
Anabelle turned back to Terra. “You’re the human we came to save,” she said. “Looks like we’re going to have to fight our way out of this. You in?”
“Of course,” Terra said without even thinking.
“All right, angels,” Anabelle cried. “Let’s get ready to kick some serious ass.”
Abby chuckled as she shook her head. “That’s a much better name than SWARRMT,” she muttered.
“Wait, what is?”
“Dark Gate Angels. Like Charlie’s Angels except, you know, not as dumb. That should have been our name.”
Anabelle laughed. It was a hearty sound, as if she were unaware of the dragons, balrogs, and a small orc army. “Holy shit, you’re right. Well, fuck it, that’s our name.” She raised her hand and pointed at the Game Master, shouting, “You hear that, fuckface? You’re about to get seventeen new assholes, courtesy of the Dark Gate Angels.”
The Game Master laughed, his voice echoing throughout the arena. “Very well, angels. Let the games begin.”
Chapter Fifteen
The arena had stood for thousands of years. It was one of the first the orcs built when they began the steady expansion of their realm. Each arena was built to be a testament to orcish values.
First among all was resilience. An orc who could easily be put in the ground was hardly an orc. An orc who died on its knees couldn’t be called an orc.
Secondly, strength. If it could hit you, then you could hit it harder.
Thirdly, wisdom—an attribute that many did not apply to the orcs for a long period of time. But through watching their ways of warfare, you could discern the amount of wisdom that ran through orcish culture. They were measured by their fights. Nothing was gambled. Everything was multiplied. The nine realms had worried what would have happened if the orcs had ever grown discontent with fighting each other.
Anabelle, Abby, and Terra stood in this ancient arena where orcs had fought until they achieved a level of praise and worship most cultures only give to their gods. The three women had each been fighting their own battles to come to this place.
Behind them stood an army of old and new allies. Blackwell, a soldier of Middang3ard’s HQ, who had proved himself on the battlefield multiple times. Naota, a former security guard at an amusement park who was conscripted due to an obscene and unnatural amount of heart. And Persephone, a young drow recently removed from the Dark One’s influence. There were also ten other soldiers, the only operatives who weren’t totally broken from the last attempted invasion.
Across from the rescue party that had been sent to save Terra was the opposition: enough orcs to be considered a horde, four balrogs, a smattering of goblins, and two full-grown red dragons.
The groups stared at each other from across the arena, neither ready to take the first step into battle. It was obvious why Anabelle and her Dark Angels would be hesitant to start the fight. They were heavily outnumbered. Yet their opponents seemed just as wary to throw themselves into the fray.
Anabelle turned from staring down her enemies. She had the look of a commander in her eyes, a look she must have only just discovered, for it wavered for a moment before righting itself. “We’re not going to win this if we go at it like a bunch of idiots. I’ll take care of the orcs. Abby and Persephone, I want you on one of the dragons. Terra, I want you on the other. Blackwell—”
Both Abby and Persephone interrupted Anabelle with fairly similar declarations of disbelief. Anabelle didn’t hear them out, raising her hand to silence them both. “Abby, I know you can do this, and if Persephone was supposed to be strong enough to kill you, she should be able to do this as well. Any other objections?”
Anabelle waited for Terra to say something, but the human remained silent, only staring at the dragon she had chosen, sizing the creature up. “All right,” the elf continued, “Blackwell, Naota, and the rest of you, the balrogs are yours. That sound doable?”
Naota pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. “Not only doable but feasible.”
Blackwell scoffed, his eyes full of irritation as his upper lip curled. “Those are the same thing,
you ass.”
Naota whipped around, pulling his two trusty tasers out. “Are we going to have a go at this right now? Because I’m itching for a rippin’.”
Anabelle stepped between the two and shook her head. “Could you two please keep your shit together for a minute and focus on what we need to do?”
Naota nodded, sheathing his tasers. “Just kidding, boss. Juicing up the morale, that’s all.”
“That better be what you were doing. Now, who the hell else is sick of waiting around for those assholes to bring the fucking fight?”
Anabelle whipped around, drawing all of the manna in her body and pushing it down to her feet. She didn’t have time to worry about the rest of her squad. Taking out the orcs was going to require her complete and utter focus. She sprinted forward, quickly closing the gap between the orc horde and her.
The orcs hadn’t even had time to respond by the time Anabelle was in front of them. She was too fast. Anabelle tossed off a little bit of manna from her hands, letting it drop on the ground as what could only have been described as an energy mine. She wove through the horde, tossing off manna here and there as the orcs began to draw their weapons.
Anabelle ran around an orc as a balrog lunged and cracked its whip against her chest, sending her flying, screaming in pain. She hit the ground, rolled twice, and was on her feet, taking the pain, pulling the fire into herself, and converting the dead energy into manna. Then she clenched her fists and exploded her manna mines.
Orcs went flying through the air as energy ripped through their ranks. Anabelle wasn’t sure of how many she took out, but she didn’t think it was a lot. It was mostly a flashy attack to draw their attention, to challenge them, to let them know this wasn’t their fight.
The Middang3ard Marines jumped into action, drawing out their weapons and leaping toward their targets, already acquainted with their newfound strength and agility. They were right to leave behind the exosuits. First among them, although he was not a Marine, was Naota. He flung himself forward as if he were made of nothing, heading toward a balrog with his tasers.
