by Travis Brett
"And that's what matters, is it? Fighting?"
"Obviously."
"Did you have any friends in the Haven?"
"I didn't want any." And even if he did, he wouldn't have made any. The other fighters kept their distance from Sparks. They didn't like the fact he always won his fights. They were jealous, or afraid. Or both.
Sparks drank. The alcohol burnt his throat. He drank some more.
Tan smiled. "Well, you and I are drinking together, and, in my opinion, that makes us friends." He raised his glass to Sparks, who begrudgingly clinked his own against it. "To teammates and friends."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I have some advice for you."
Of course. Another person trying to tell me what to do. "What is it?"
"I want you to trust Roman. He's a complicated person, and in the future he may make choices that you . . . won't like. But I want you to believe that he has the best intentions at heart."
"Trust him?" Sparks laughed. "He wouldn't trust me even if I was giving him the cure to cancer."
"I know. That's why you need to be the better man."
"And what do I gain from this?"
"Eventually, he'll trust you back. Then you'll have gained a friend. Simple."
"And Roman's friendship is really so important?" Sparks asked doubtfully.
"It is to me."
"Are you sure that he's even your friend? To me, it looks like the only person he gives a damn about is Ruby."
"Of course he's my friend."
"But how do you know?"
Tan paused before replying, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling while he considered his words. "There are two types of people in this world. There are people who tell you they’ll always be there, but, if you ever actually need them, they'll abandon you without a second thought." He drunk a gulp of rum. "But then there are people like Roman. He would risk his life to save mine. He'll never say that, of course, because for him it goes without saying."
"He'll risk his life for you, maybe. But never for me. He hates me."
"He's afraid of you — there's a difference. But if you give him time, and keep proving yourself dependable, you'll gain his trust. That's all I'm asking."
Sparks shook his head. "I'm not like you, Tan. I don't want to be friends with anyone. I don't need to be. I'm the best fighter in this city; all I want is to prove that."
"You're just as stubborn as he is."
"I'm nothing like him."
"If you believe that, then you're lying to yourself. Just like he does. Which kinda proves my point." Tan stood. "Now let's get out of here before the owner comes home and starts asking awkward questions."
Sparks followed him outside. "Awkward questions like: 'who are you and why are you in my house?' "
"People are always so damn curious about such unimportant things." Tan had taken the bottle of rum with him. He slipped it into his jacket. "Just remember what I said, okay? Whatever happens, Roman's doing what he thinks is best."
"Sure. Whatever." Sparks didn't care what Roman thought was best. All he cared was that Roman gave him his own needle. As long as he did that, there would be no problem.
* * *
"We've got a problem," Caleb said.
Roman nodded. "We've got a dozen problems. You're going to have to be more specific."
"Sparks."
Of course. That's the only problem Caleb seems to care about anymore.
Caleb stood at one end of the dining room, leaning against the counter, his arms folded and expression sober. Roman sat on the other side. He grabbed a cloth and began to dismantle and clean his pistol – anything to keep his hands and mind distracted.
"I'm not comfortable with lying to the boy," Caleb said.
"For a mercenary, you have a strange moral compass."
Caleb shrugged. "Morals have nothing to do with it. It's about respect. And Sparks deserves more then you're giving him."
"I don't have to respect him; I have to do what best for everybody." Roman removed the cylinder from his pistol, emptied the bullets into his palm, and wiped each one carefully. "And what's best for everyone — Sparks included — is for us to capture Spencer, force him to complete his serum, and use it to cure Sparks of his . . . condition."
"I'm not sure that's what Sparks wants."
"Does everybody get what they want?"
"No," Caleb conceded. "But listen to me, Roman, because here's how it is: I respect you, so I'm going to obey your orders. But I need you to respect me enough to share your reasons with me."
"My reasons? Isn't it obvious — I don't trust a kid like Sparks not to kill us all.”
"You don't trust him because he's an Adrenalite. I want to know why you hate them so much."
Roman looked down at his pistol, wishing there was more to clean. "You must have heard my story," he said quietly.
"Not from you."
Roman sighed. If this was what it took to keep Caleb's loyalty, then there was no way around it. It was probably for the best — Ruby and Tan both knew everything about him, and Caleb was on the same team. He deserved to know. "My father was a butcher. My mother was a weaver. They were good people, as far as people go. Which, of course, isn’t saying much." He paused. "This pistol was my fathers, and he loved it. He used to joke about how it was his second child."
"What happened to them?"
"One day, when I was twelve, the three of us were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A rogue Adrenalite had just escaped and was making a break for the outskirts. We just happened to be in his path; that was enough of a reason for my parents to die, apparently. It all happened so quickly. I had never seen an activated Adrenalite before that day. Then, suddenly, I was watching one tear my father in half."
"I'm sorry, Roman." It was hard for a voice as low and gravely as Calebs to sound sympathetic. Somehow he managed it.
"For some reason, the monster left me alive. Maybe he didn't want to kill a kid? I don't know," Roman said. "I didn't even have to think about what to do next, though. I took my father's gun and followed the Adrenalite. He wasn't hard to track — I just had to follow the screams of the injured he left behind. And, in the end, I killed him."
Caleb's eyes narrowed. "You killed an Adrenalite when you were twelve years old?"
"It isn't hard to kill a man when his back is turned. Especially when you have a gun. With a pistol, anyone can be a killer." Roman went quiet for a moment as he remembered that scene. "Killing him didn't make me feel any better, but it felt like I was doing the right thing."
"What happened next?"
"Well, I was an orphan, so I lived on the streets. I stole food. And clothes. My only real possession was this gun, so I kept it well hidden. Eventually, I got caught: a young couple discovered me in their house, stealing their blankets."
"Unlucky."
"Actually, extremely lucky," Roman said. "They must have felt sorry for me, because they took me and raised me alongside their own two kids: Ruby and Stevens. After that my life was relatively normal. My foster parents died when I was eighteen. Cancer, of course. After they passed, I wanted to join the Security Ministry and become a militia, like Ruby. I still remembered the feeling of justice I had when I killed that Adrenalite, and I wanted more of it. But Stevens convinced me to join the Ministry of Sciences. He said I should look to the future, not revenge. And I believed him."
"He sounds like a good man."
"He was. But he was also wrong. There is no future without revenge. Justice has to be served before we can move on," Roman said firmly. "I learned that the day I saw Stevens' corpse. Just like my parents, he just happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time."
"You've lost a lot of people to Adrenalites."
"This entire city has lost to them." Roman reloaded his pistol and tucked it into his jacket. "I learnt early what everyone here learns eventually: Adrenalites are monsters. And if I give Sparks his own needle, and he uses it to go rogue, it might not be just me th
at he kills, it might be some kids parents. That's why I don't trust him."
Caleb nodded. "If I were in your shoes I'd probably feel the same way."
"So you'll follow my orders?"
“I will. But I have one condition: If we can't capture Spencer, or if he can’t create this serum, then you’re going to man up and give Sparks his own needles. I don't care about your beliefs and fears against him. A promise is a promise."
“Why do you care so much about what happens to the boy?”
“That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”
Roman considered this. He desperately wanted to say no, but, in the end, he didn’t have much of a choice. For this to work, he needed all the help he could get.
“You’ve got a deal,” he said.
Caleb grunted, satisfied.
The door swung open and Ruby stepped inside. Her bow was slung across her shoulder. She looked between Roman and Caleb. "You heard the news?"
"Yeah."
"Then we've got preparations to make." If she was still mad at Roman, she didn't let it show.
Roman groaned, stood, and walked to the cupboard to find some food. He only just realized how hungry he was. "Aye," he said. "Let's find a way to steal from Gavin."
"You got a plan?" Caleb asked.
"I’ve got an idea." Roman found the cupboard empty. Damn. "But you're not going to like it."
"Why not?"
"Because while I'm searching the Haven for Spencer, you're going to be attacking one of the power stations."
“You want me to take on an entire station of militia?” Caleb asked. “I’m good, Roman, but I’m not that good.”
Roman sighed. He hated how much he had come to rely on the boy. “It’s true, you’re not,” he said. “But Sparks just might be.”
13
The gates of the Haven rose into view, red rags hanging from the barbed wire. They were open and the crowd had already begun to pile through. Roman hunched his shoulders and glared at the gates like they were the entrance to hell itself. In a way, they were.
The last of the day’s light was fading. The afternoon had rushed past in the chaos of planning, only interrupted by a restless nap that hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. Ruby and Tan walked alongside Roman. Tan was missing his usual grin — for him, that was the equivalent of shitting his pants with fear. They pushed into the crowd outside the gates. People cursed, laughed and shouted as they jostled to move ahead in the line. Roman thought of Caleb and Sparks, on the other side of the district. He knew he had made the right choice in keeping Sparks away from the Haven. But still, he would have felt safer with Caleb next to him. Although it would have been impossible to remain inconspicuous with a man of Caleb’s size around.
“I’m having serious doubts about this plan,” Tan muttered.
“And you think now is the time to mention them?” Roman said. “Seems a little late.”
“Better late than never. I ain’t one to question your genius, Boss. But I’m just saying, my face is exceptionally recognizable. That’s on account of me being so good looking.” Out of the corner of his eye, Roman saw Tan casually pick-pocket a lady’s wallet while she was busy clinging to the man beside her, giggling. Tan ruffled through its contents, then gently returned it, minus two coins.
Roman grinned. “Are you sure it’s not because your face resembles a doorknob?”
“Nah. If that were true, somebody would’ve told me.”
“Boys, please,” Ruby hissed. “Can we focus less on being annoying, and more on blending in.”
“Being annoying is what people do in crowds, love,” Tan said. “So if we weren’t annoying, how could we possibly blend in?”
The first drops of rain were beginning to fall, clinging to Roman’s hair and dripping down his cheeks. He trained his eyes on the multiple thugs watching from the sides of the crowd. Gavin’s men. Technically, Roman and his gang were allowed to come and watch the fight. But Gavin wasn’t stupid; he knew that Roman was looking for Spencer, and there was no doubt he had told his men to deny Roman entry to the Haven.
They turned a corner and the pit fighting hall came into view. The ball of tension in Roman’s gut tightened. If his guess was right, Spencer would be in the cells beneath the hall. In the same cells that held Gavin’s Adrenalites.
“Roman, we’ve got trouble,” Ruby whispered. She subtly pointed ahead of them.
It was the one-eared thug who had trailed Roman on their last visit. He had a black eye, and Roman chuckled thinking of how he had gotten it. The thug hadn’t noticed them, at least not yet. Roman readjusted his hood.
“It’s a pity it’s not an eye that he’s missing,” he whispered.
“Give me an arrow and I could fix that,” Ruby replied.
One-ear looked over the crowd. His eyes locked with Romans.
“Shit.” Roman quickened his pace.
The thug turned and marched towards the fighting hall.
“I’ll meet you two at the door,” Roman said, then pushed his way through the crowd as hastily as he dared. One-ear had a solid ten-yard head start, but Roman quickly closed the distance. Breaking off from the crowd and stepping behind One-ear, he tapped the thug on the shoulder. His other hand gripped his pistol tight.
“Want to guess what I’m holding in my coat?” Roman asked, voice low.
One-ear stopped immediately.
“I’ll give you a hint,” Roman continued, “It’s a gun.”
Fear flashed in the thug’s eyes as he turned his head to see Roman. “What do you want?”
“For you to shut up and keep walking.”
Roman lead them back into the crowd. He remained close enough to keep the gun hidden between them. With one quick motion, he tore the red rag off One-ear’s arm and tucked it into his own pocket.
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Roman said casually. “What’s your name?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Roman gave him a sharp jab in the back with the barrel of the pistol.
“Gah! My name’s Kelvin.”
“Much better. Now, Kelvin, do you know what I’ll do to you if you make any disturbance?”
Kelvin shook his head.
“Do you want to know?”
Another shake.
“Fair enough. Just remember that it won’t be pleasant, and it involves one of us losing his kneecaps.”
No one stopped them as they entered the hall. It was already packed, and Roman looked over the mob with apprehension. So many people who had no idea how much they were risking their lives to be here — if Candle did attack tonight, things would get bloody. That is to say, even bloodier then they usually would be at a pit fight.
Roman lead them to the bleachers closest to the gate that the fighters would come out of. “Is Ashton Spencer down there?” he asked Kelvin, motioning to the gate.
“I don’t know nothing.”
Roman kicked him in the back of the leg. “Answer the damn question.”
“Argh. Fuck you. Yeah, he’s down there, locked up with the fighters.”
“And I assume Gavin has half an army down there too?”
Kelvin shook his head. “He’s hired mercenaries, but half of them are up here. The other half are watching the other entrance. The plan was to catch Candle before he can get down there.”
“The other entrance?”
“Yes. It comes out on the other side of the Haven.”
Roman scowled. Sparks hadn’t mentioned any other way into the cells.
They found a place near the back of the eager spectators, far from the groups of Gavin’s men who patrolled around. There were far more thugs than usual tonight. Gavin wasn’t taking chances.
The crammed hall made Roman claustrophobic. The bare walls echoed the crowds excited chattering, and the stench of hundreds of unwashed bodies clogged the air. He supposed he should be thankful for the large turnout; it made it that much harder for them to be noticed.
He looked up
at the large fluorescent lights which lit the hall. No power cut just yet.
Caleb and Sparks better hurry the hell up.
“Um . . . Boss,” Tan said, “we may wanna get out of sight. Now.”
A group of six thugs approached, pushing through the crowd.
“Shit. Come on, let’s make ourselves scarce.”
Forcibly pushing Kelvin, they shuffled back several rows, hiding their faces until the guards had passed. Roman let out a sigh of relief. They had been lucky, so far. And for this to work, they needed all the luck they could get.
With a metallic shriek, a thug pulled open the gate, and the crowd went silent. All eyes watched, waiting for the first fighters to emerge. Roman’s heart hammered in his chest. His thoughts raced with each potential disaster. What if they planned on killing Spencer first? What if Candle showed up before the lights died and Roman could sneak through the gate?
As the wait for the fighters grew longer, the silence was replaced by a low murmuring. The thug who opened the gate shrugged, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
Where were the fighters?
Had something already happened down there?
At that moment, Kelvin finally decided to be brave, or be an idiot, depending on whose side you were on. He spun around, grabbed Roman by the arm, and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Help!” As one, the whole hall turned to look at them.
Fuck.
Roman punched Kelvin in the face with his free hand. Kelvin fell backwards, but his grip held strong and he pulled Roman down with him. They rolled down the stone steps, knocking over everyone in their way. Roman cursed, room spinning around him, one hand pushing Kelvin away from him, the other trying to keep hold of his gun.
They finally stopped, knotted into a pile of fallen bodies. Kelvin was still yelling. People scrambled to get away, but no one seemed able to find their feet. Roman head-butted Kelvin, smashing his forehead into the bastard’s nose. Kelvin’s grip still held.
Tan appeared, knife in hand. In one smooth motion, he reached down, grabbed Kelvin by the neck, and cleanly sliced off his one remaining ear. Kelvin’s yelling turned to howls of pain. He released Roman.
Roman scrambled to his feet, darting back up the bleachers. People hastened to get out of his way. “Run. Now!” he shouted, as if Tan wasn’t already two steps ahead of him.
