Legacy

by Travis Brett

  Roman ducked a punch. But a moment later a second blow caught him in the gut. He stumbled back, winded.

  Candle’s light had gone completely. He ripped an activation needle off his forearm and—

  Roman cracked Candle across the jaw with the butt of his pistol. Candle dropped to one knee, the needle falling to the ground. Roman stomped his foot down, shattering it.

  One down.

  Candle grabbed him by the thigh. The next thing Roman knew he was in the air, spinning backwards. He landed on his back, shock running down his spine, staring up at the roof. Fighting the wave of dizziness, Roman sprang back to his feet. Candle had another activation needle in his hand, about to insert it into his forearm.

  Roman barrelled into him, one hand closing around the syringe and squeezing it until the glass fractured in his hand. Two down. Candle lashed out with his elbow, digging it into Roman’s ribs. Roman doubled over, gasping for breath.

  Even deactivated, he’s fast. Roman dodged to the side as another punch flew past him, then leapt back to avoid a high kick. Candle pressed his advantage, pushing Roman back with a series of rapid jabs. Roman watched for an opportunity for a counter-attack. Candle didn’t give him one. Roman retreated another two steps until his back hit the wall.

  A kick caught Roman in his left hip and all the strength left his legs. He fell to the ground. He didn’t even see the blow that caught him in the chest. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. The room seemed to spin around him. And then Candle was pinning him to the ground, one hand around Roman’s throat, the other pinning his right hand.

  Roman struggled to twist out of Candle’s grip, his free hand punching Candle in the ribs, once, twice, three times. Candle didn’t budge.

  “This is justice,” Candle spat. “For every Adrenalite you gave to Juliette.”

  They deserved it, Roman tried to retort, but he couldn’t get the words out of his blocked throat. Why the fuck did all his fights end in him being strangled? Candle tightened his grip. His face was curled in a scowl of rage. Lit by the orange candlelight, he looked like a monster straight out of a nightmare.

  Roman’s chest felt ready to collapse. He needed air. Now.

  32

  Sparks crept across the rooftop, keeping just out of sight of the militia below. He had to be careful – staying out of sight was hard when you were literally a source of light.

  The pack of militia weren't in a rush. They walked through the station confidently, clustered together around Juliette. It was easy for Sparks to recognize her. The tangle of brown hair. The thin, bony face. He had never forgotten her face since she had watched him being branded. The way she had looked at him like he was nothing more than a stray dog.

  But he couldn't strike now, there were too many militia down there, even for him. It would be suicide to try. So he waited, crouching out of sight as he stalked them. He would get his chance. And he would take it.

  Sparks risked another glance. They were nearing the centre of the station, heading towards a large quad, empty except for a single white building. Its door had been smashed in. When the militia were halfway across the quad, Sparks climbed down to the ground. He ducked behind a pile of rusted steel beams, watching . . .

  . . . and growing impatient.

  * * *

  One thing left to do: Roman reached to the side and grabbed one of the burning candles. Hot wax poured through his fingers as he shoved the flame into Candle’s eye. Candle howled in pain, pulling away, releasing Roman’s neck.

  Gasping to reclaim his breath, Roman twisted out from beneath Candle and climbed to his feet. The wax still scalded his fingers. It hurt like a bitch. He didn’t want to imagine how it felt getting it in the eye.

  Candle was on his knees, one hand clutching his face. Roman booted him in the gut. Then again. On the third time, Candle grabbed Roman’s leg before it could connect and pulled Roman to the ground. Roman rolled away, barely managing to avoid Candle’s next blow. He tried to stand, but Candle was too fast, dragging him back down and punching him in the jaw.

  Roman retaliated with a sharp jab to the throat. Candle gasped, winded, but retained his composure enough to block Roman’s next blow and strike back with a fist to the forehead. Roman’s body went weak and he collapsed onto his back, vision blurry.

  “We all get what we deserve,” Candle spat as he punched Roman just below the ribs, driving what was left of his breath out of him. “Apart from you. There’s no hell bad enough for a bounty hunter. You trade our lives for money, you piece of shit.”

  “Fuck you.” Roman didn’t have the strength to fight back, not anymore. That was it. Candle had won. But, when Gavin heard that Roman was dead, he would let Ruby go. Hopefully.

  Candle raised his fist for another blow, but a hand grabbed him from behind before he could strike. A hand that made even his look small.

  Roman blinked, stunned. Candle spun around just as Caleb’s huge fist caught him in the side of the head, hard. Candle collapsed, unconscious.

  “Hey Roman,” Caleb said simply.

  “Caleb . . . How?” Roman’s vision returned to focus. “What happened to you?

  Caleb frowned. “I couldn’t talk the boy out of his . . . choice. So I came after you.”

  “Did you see Tan? Is he—”

  “He’s upstairs. Alive, but hurt. Badly. We’ve got to go.”

  Roman nearly fainted from relief. He took a deep breath, calming himself. He noticed Caleb’s arms were covered in cuts, and blood dripped down from a gash in his forehead. But he was here, and Tan was alive.

  Caleb looked down at Candle. “Is that—”

  “Yeah.” Roman crouched beside Candle and rolled his unconscious body onto its back. The left side of his face was red, the wax hardening on his skin. His closed eyelid was already beginning to blister. Roman cringed just looking at it. He quickly unstrapped the third and final activation needle off Candle’s arm, carefully putting it in his coat pocket – he didn’t think he would ever need it, but at the very least it was worth a handful of credits.

  Caleb picked up Candle by the arm and slung him over his broad shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  Roman went to Spencer’s body and pried the pistol from his dead fingers. Five bullets left loaded. Roman tucked it into his jacket, then picked up his own gun off the floor and followed Caleb out of the room.

  “Tan!” Roman called out as he climbed the stairs back to the main room.

  Tan sat against the wall in the corner of the room, cradling his arm in his lap. Roman ran to him, his breath catching when he saw how much blood was pouring down his friend’s face. Tan smiled at Roman weakly. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. “I told you that I shouldn’t leave you alone. You always get yourself into trouble without me.”

  Tan flinched when Roman wiped away the blood from his forehead, revealing a wide cut. Roman couldn’t tell in the dark, but Tan’s skull might have been cracked. He quickly pulled his hand away — any pressure on the wound now could do serious damage. “You’re going to be okay,” Roman said. Whether he was trying to convince Tan or himself, he wasn’t sure.

  “I really don’t feel okay, Boss. I might just take a nap here . . . oh.” Tan paused when he saw Candle. “You got him. Good. Now, go get Ruby back. I’ll just stay here and . . . Well, bleed.”

  “Don’t try be fucking noble. It doesn’t suit you.” Roman took off his shirt beneath his coat and wrapped it around Tan’s forehead carefully. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Who’s being noble now? It looks shit on you too.”

  “I won’t argue with that.” Roman looked at Tan’s arm next. The middle of the forearm was bent at a forty-five-degree angle, and there was another break at the just above the wrist. Roman winced just looking at it. They would have to set it back in place and splint it. But that would have to wait. Roman pulled Tan up by his good arm, supporting him as they walked to the door.

  “You don’t happen to be hiding any whiskey in your coat, are you?” Tan said
between clenched teeth.

  “If I did, you would already have stolen it.”

  Caleb stepped outside first, having to duck to fit both him and Candle through the door frame. Roman followed, still supporting Tan, momentarily blinded by the sunlight.

  A crowd of militia were heading straight for them.

  Roman cursed. Could they run? No — he and Caleb might be able to get away, but not with Tan and Candle. So he was going to have to try talk his way out of this. Roman reluctantly surrendered by raising his hand that wasn’t holding Tan.

  A dozen militia armed with crossbows levelled them at him while the others kept advancing. There had to be over thirty of the bastards.

  Juliette made her way to the front of the militia. Even in bulky body armour, she looked scrawny. Her brown hair was even messier than usual, knotted and uneven. She held a bow, an arrow nocked and the string half pulled back. She scowled at Roman. He returned the expression. She stopped a dozen yards away, the militia halting behind her.

  Roman’s fingers twitched, eager to grab his gun. One shot between her eyes. It would be easy. “You lied to me about Ashton Spencer,” he growled. “There was never any serum.”

  “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” Juliette looked from Roman to Caleb, then to Candle. “But do you think I’m going to pay you for capturing Candle like this? I expected better from you, Roman.”

  Roman moved between Juliette and Caleb. “Juliette, listen to me, Gavin has Ruby and—”

  “Where’s Ashton Spencer?”

  “Dead. But Ruby—”

  “You killed him? Why the fuck would you—”

  “I didn’t. But listen to me, Gavin has Ruby, and he’s going to kill her unless—”

  “I don’t give a damn.” Juliette pointed her bow at Roman. “Just give me Candle and you can walk away. Simple.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You work for me, remember?”

  Tan staggered in front of Roman. “I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, but you really do.”

  Tan shook his head. “To quote a friend: Fuck no. I’m a freelancer. Bitch.”

  Juliette shot him in the chest.

  33

  Sparks watched Tan collapse. Time seemed to stand still.

  She killed him . . .

  She fucking killed him.

  Juliette was the first to move again. In one smooth motion, she reached over her shoulder, pulled another arrow from her quiver and nocked it. She brought the string back, aiming towards—

  No. Not Caleb.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Sparks charged towards Juliette. He heard someone screaming and realized it was him. With each leap he crossed half a dozen yards, dashing past the militia in his way.

  Juliette turned, swinging the bow to aim at him. The arrow grazed Sparks’ cheek. He barely felt it.

  He dove forward, slammed into Juliette and pitched them both into the air. Her screaming mixed with his as the world rushed past. They struck the wall with a bone-shaking crunch. Chunks of brick collapsed onto them. Somewhere close, a gunshot.

  Sparks lay half-submerged in the fallen rubble, disorientated. He coughed, dust clogging his throat. One of his arms was still wrapped around Juliette’s chest. He raised himself onto all fours, vision hazy as he looked down at Juliette. A trail of blood ran down from her mouth, but she was still breathing. Her eyes opened, focused on Sparks, and went wide with fear.

  “You cock-sucking piece of shit!” Sparks yelled as he picked up a slab of brick, raised it above his head, ready to smash her face in.

  “Sparks!” Caleb’s voice. A warning.

  Sparks turned just in time to see an axe swinging towards his neck. He threw himself to the side and it passed just in front of his face. He leapt to his feet and dropped into a defensive stance. The militia attacked again, bringing the axe down in an over-arm swing. Sparks caught it by the handle, then drove his other hand – still clutching the brick – into his opponent’s face. Both brick and skull shattered.

  Breathing in frantic gasps, Sparks turned to face the two dozen militia that stood around him in a semi-circle, cornering him against the wall. His senses came back to him in a rush. Oh fucking hell.

  Too late to change his mind now.

  He looked across to Caleb. “Get out of here,” he shouted.

  A crossbow bolt flew towards him and he ducked to avoid it. Another grazed his leg as he darted to the side, searching for Juliette. Where did she go? Only a couple drops of blood marked the spot where she been a moment before.

  He didn’t have any more time to look. Another crossbow quarrel narrowly missed his shoulder. The militia closed in around him.

  * * *

  Roman couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He was vaguely aware of Sparks fighting the militia, of the shouting, of all the chaos around him. But the only thing he truly saw was Tan’s body, and the arrow sticking from it. Tan’s eyes were open, staring at the sky. His shirt was rapidly turning dark red.

  Tan wasn’t smiling anymore.

  He can’t be dead. He just can’t be.

  The part of Roman’s mind that was still working screamed for him to run, to get the hell away from here. But his legs couldn’t move. His chest felt like it was being crushed. Someone next to him shouted something. It sounded miles away. A hand grabbed him by the arm, pulling him backwards. His legs still didn’t work and he nearly fell over, but somehow his feet remembered what they were meant to do and he let himself be led away from the militia.

  From Tan.

  “Think later.” A gruff voice. Caleb. “But right now, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  Roman shook his head as if that could possibly clear the turmoil of emotions running through it. Caleb was leading him towards the nearest alley.

  Candle . . . We’ve got to get him to Gavin. To save Ruby. The thought of Ruby kick-started him back into awareness. She was still at the Haven, and if they couldn’t get Candle there, she would die. Just like Tan.

  Roman sucked in air through clenched teeth. Caleb was right, he couldn’t think about it. Not now. But as they ran down the alley, Roman’s brain wouldn’t stop repeating the image of Tan collapsing to the ground.

  Then Sparks had come out of nowhere.

  Sparks saved them.

  * * *

  A jolt of pain shot through Sparks' leg. He cried out, falling to one knee. A steel spike stuck out of his thigh. Just like the one that had deactivated him earlier. He had to run. Had to get out of here.

  But to escape, he had to go through the militia.

  Sparks threw himself into their midst, tearing the spike out of his leg and brandishing it like a knife. Ignoring the pain stabbing through him, he spun through their ranks, darting under knives and past crossbow bolts, plunging the spike into his opponent’s necks. With each strike, he showered himself with more blood.

  His heart pounded an enraged tempo, driving him on.

  Then it stopped.

  His light vanished.

  * * *

  Caleb halted abruptly.

  Roman nearly ran straight into him. “What’s going on?”

  Caleb lifted Candle off his shoulders and offered him to Roman. “Take him. You’ll be able to make it out from here. I’m going back.”

  “What? You can’t.”

  “Sparks saved us, Roman. I’m not leaving him.”

  Roman saw the look in Caleb’s eyes. He was serious. “The boy gave us a chance to get out of here, are you going to throw that away? You can’t do anything to help him. Not against that many militia.”

  “I told Sparks that I would have his back, whatever happens. And I meant it.”

  Roman swore. He refused to lose both Tan and Caleb. “Why do you care about him?”

  Caleb dropped Candle to the ground. “You wouldn’t understand.” He turned and sprinted back towards the fighting.

  Scowling, Roman picked up Candle and continued to flee. Half of him cursed Caleb for hea
ding back, the other half felt guilty for not following him. Sparks had saved them; he didn’t deserve to be killed. Not by Juliette, at least. But Roman couldn’t go back. He had to save Ruby.

  “Hey!”

  Roman stumbled to a halt. He looked up at where the voice had come from. An Adrenalite watched him from the nearest roof, his blue glow covered his entire body.

  Just my luck . . .

  * * *

  Sparks stopped, surrounded by militia, blood dripping from the spike in his hand, and he panicked. He stumbled backwards, ducking under a swinging axe. He turned left, then right. No way out. He was surrounded.

  What was I thinking? he thought as he side-stepped a militia, stabbing him in ribs as he darted past. He'd rushed in to save Caleb. Why? He didn't want to kill Caleb, sure, but didn't want to die for him. That wasn't worth it, was it?

  He dove to the ground, rolling under a swinging machete. A crossbow bolt flew past his head. Spinning back onto his feet, he dodged past another militia. He felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he could escape.

  A flash of pain in the back of his leg. He tumbled onto his knees, the concrete skinning his shins.

  Something slammed into the back of his head and he passed out.

  * * *

  Roman gave up. He didn’t have the energy for another fight. Letting Candle fall to the ground, he just stared at the Adrenalite. This is it. I’ve failed.

  The next moment, the Adrenalite fell forward, toppling over the edge of the roof. An arrow stuck out of its chest.

  Roman stared, too stunned to react. That was a perfect shot. There’s no way that could be—

  Then he heard her. Calling his name.

  “Ruby!” he shouted back.

  She stepped into view, standing right where the Adrenalite had been a second ago. Roman couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. But there she was, jumping down to the ground, an arrow in one bandaged hand, her bow in the other.