Sky City (The Rise of an Orphan)

by RD Hale

  The bell rings as I grab Oumyn in a headlock and hammer his skull until the referee wraps arms around my shoulders to drag me back. Oumyn's legs falter and he lands on his side, panting as he gazes in bewilderment. I stare back at my broken adversary; the great warrior now as helpless as a paraplegic.

  The cage door bursts open and the volatile crowd pours in, stepping straight over the defeated champion. I am held aloft to revel in this moment of costly jubilation, tossed around by a seething mass of scarred heads with tribal tattoos and skull earrings.

  In my head-splittingly exhausted whirl I realise I have won the respect of the unrespectable, tamed the pack animals who can so readily turn and tear you limb from limb. My wreck of a body must bear no resemblance to that of a victor, but I somehow overcame the odds and I bask in triumph with a new fan at my side.

  'You did it. Arturo, you did it!'

  Uncertain if my deadened feet have landed, my out of body experience is interrupted by the approach of an unrecognisable creature. Weary, mutilated and no longer trying to tear a minor to shreds, his wilted face is smeared in sweat and blood but he is no less impressive. Puzzled, swollen eyes fix mine as he gasps from a distended mouth, offering his chubby paw. All hostilities evaporate as we shake hands and embrace, following our violent bonding experience.

  'What the fuck are you made of, kid?'

  'Ladies and gentleman, for the first time tonight a fight has went the distance. So it is now down to you to decide our winner. Was Oumyn saved by the bell? Or was Basilides lucky to survive as long as he did? If you think Oumyn won, let me hear you scream.'

  There is a strident, but constrained roar from spectators who obviously do not wish to lose the money they foolishly placed on the reigning champion.

  'And if you think Basilides won, let me hear you scream.'

  The roar is hysterical, fizzing, unrelenting and I hold these stiffened hands against ears as a searing pain causes me to relive agonizing blows endured for the sake of an insufficient purse.

  'It's not clear cut... Again for Oumyn... Again for Basilides... Oumyn... Basilides...'

  'I think that seals it. The winner by popular decision, our challenger - Arturo Basilides.'

  'BAS-IL-IDES! BAS-IL-IDES! BAS-IL-IDES!'

  Vytali wraps his arms around my waist to carry a helpless weakling from the human cockfighting cage and as the adrenaline dies down I feel additional injuries I had not noticed. Every part of my body is grazed and bruised.

  Bouncers barge through the crowd, escorting a smartly-dressed man who approaches and counts five hundred credits. I can barely feel the money he places in my hand, but my fingers ache as I stuff the notes into my pocket. Then he offers me two large red and yellow capsules.

  'Take these kid. They'll make you feel a whole lot better.'

  Pills stick in my throat as I swallow without water, then stumble to the toilets on legs leadened by lactic acid. As I approach the brown sink I catch an unwelcome sight in the mirror. My swollen eyes and lips are encrusted with blood and the not-so-measly five hundred credits suddenly seems like nothing.

  I wash the scabby crust away from my face and pain eases as the swelling reduces before my eyes. Glucose reserves, which I thought were fully depleted, infuse my leg muscles and the concussion fogging my brain clears. Vytali hands over my wallet and shirt and we return upstairs to have a beer and watch the dancing demon girls.

  A Job Offer

  'That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. You've definitely earned a drink,' Vytali gasps, but he is interrupted by a voice from behind:

  'You're one tough bastard.'

  The former king of the octagon places his drink onto a coaster and takes a seat. Oumyn's eye is swollen shut, his nose is crooked and he has a burst cauliflower ear. Slumped shoulders are almost as broad as the table and with blood washed away he looks even uglier than before. I can scarcely believe the injuries I have inflicted upon him and despite being victorious I feel almost intimidated.

  Unsure of how to reply I sip my beer to fill the uncomfortably surreal moment as a pair of animals, who minutes ago were bludgeoning each other in a cash and death struggle, are sharing an almost civilised drink.

  'What enhancements have you had, kid?' Oumyn asks.

  'Enhancements? None.'

  'You kidding me? What about PEDs?'

  'Well I smoked some weed earlier. Had a couple of drinks.'

  'Weed eh? So you're telling me the metal in my hands and face, the Standron, Vistra and Antrophil were a waste of time. All I needed was fucking weed? You're something else, kid. They'll pay a fortune to see you again. Those pep pills they gave you, they don't give 'em to anyone, they're expensive. They want you in one piece so you can fight for them.'

  'Nah, this was just a one off.'

  'Kid, you're way too good for that. Where do ya train?'

  'I don't.'

  'So you expect me to believe that after beating seven consecutive grown men, a weed smoking, untrained kid comes and beats me without any enhancements or PEDs. Either you're a liar or a fucking phenomenon.'

  'Or just lucky. It looked a lot easier from where I was sitting! I've had a bit of training in the past, but you were beaten up and exhausted by the time I faced you. If I'd faced you first, I'd have had no chance.'

  'I was pumped full of drugs, I didn't feel a thing. Something tells me you didn't either. No matter what happened you were never gonna lose.'

  'Nah, every time you connected my legs almost gave out. I don't know how I continued.'

  A gangster bearing a gold medallion, visibly false teeth and a pin-striped suit with collarless shirt invites himself to sit at our table. His beaming eyes search for hangers on and he nods as a passing girl strokes his shoulder, then stares as though he expects me to return his bright white smile. The audacity of this money man no doubt stems from his status, but his presence is disturbing my alcohol-assisted recovery.

  'The name's Hearn. I liked what I saw tonight, impressive stuff. How old are you, kid?'

  'Truthfully? Sixteen.'

  'Sixteen years old? You seriously telling me I got beat off a fucking sixteen year old?' Oumyn spits his drink out, spraying the table and my forearms with sticky globules.

  'I'm not even sure what a sixteen year old is doing in a place like this. The thing I need to know is - was this a fluke or can you do it again?' Hearn asks.

  'I was just explaining to Oumyn it was a fluke. If he wasn't-'

  'Fluke? I'm not convinced. If you fight again next week I'll give you two thousand credits per fight. I'll give you any PED you can name. You prove yourself next week and we could look at training you for the professional ranks. You do that and you could earn some big money,' Hearn proposes.

  'I'm not sure.'

  'What are you, kid? Level Three? Bottom leveller?' Hearn asks.

  'Bottom leveller.'

  'Well if you succeed here, you could make more money than you'd otherwise make in your entire lifetime. Here's my card - think about it.'

  'Thanks, I'll bear that in mind, Hearn. Come on Vytali, it's been a long night.'

  We leave the cauldron of Titan Stolastic which was way more eventful than anticipated. Stardust fizzes beneath my skin and coalesces in my wounds during a calming walk in the far from fresh air. My companion's nerves need to settle after the journey which has taken him from terror to elation, but maybe now he understands why midnight children have nothing to fear, after holding our own with the minions of old town.

  'That was amazing. I wanna be a bottom leveller! This has to be the best night of my life. Arturo, you are a legend. You have to teach me to be fearless like you.'

  'Fearless? No I just control fear, trust my instincts. If you know your capabilities, you can call upon them to escape any situation.'

  'And if you're prepared to lay your life on the line, how can anyone truly threaten you?'

  'EXACTLY!'

  My starry-eyed apprentice heads up a concrete stairway between housing blocks to cli
mb onto a roof, leaving me behind as he free-runs and shimmies across a ledge with clumsy confidence. My next glimpse is of Vytali leaping a gap to grab a drainpipe which loosens as a support bracket breaks.

  'It's alright,' Vytali yells, but as he reaches the broken bracket another gives way, causing the pipe to lurch back. He stretches out to grab the ledge, letting go of the falling pipe and trainers thud against the wall. Scampering up, Vytali spins around with arms spread wide to soak up my appraisal.

  'I'm almost as good as you now!'

  The breeze picks up during Vytali's proclamation and the weight of his head almost sends him tumbling from the eave, but he lurches back with arms waving. He takes a backstep but his ill-timed laughter demonstrates a magnetism to danger like a toddler who has just learnt to walk and I do not fancy scraping his pancaked body from the lane.

  'I'm gonna have to find another way up. Wait there.'

  Running perpendicular to Vytali's perch I leap between parapets, but there is no realistic opportunity to reach his position. As I clamber over loose tiles and rotten wood I spot a mesh-covered window and leap across to grab this treacherously inadequate ladder. The lattice cuts into my fingers as I climb, stretching up to a ridge which is just out of reach.

  'Vytali! Give me a hand. I can't reach. VYTALI!'

  I dangle until my arms are enervated and with no sign of help, my left shoulder sears as I thrust deadweight into the air. My grasping hand scrapes down coarse concrete and I plummet, frantically catching the bottom of the mesh. With fingers stretching almost to breaking point, tears fill my eyes as feet slip against bricks and each movement causes inescapable pain.

  'VYTALI!'

  Eyeing the summit I thrust upwards once again, this time twisting so my left hand gains maximum height. I grab the ledge and rubber soles slide over mesh as I try to disregard the cramp spreading to my neck. As I place my forearm on the roof, discomfort restricts my movement and my upper-body strength has almost gone. I manage to force my breathless torso over the edge, then I pull my leg up and roll over to lie flat.

  That was too close.

  Getting up, I look around whilst rubbing my neck to release the trapped nerve but Vytali is nowhere to be seen. I head towards my friend's last known location where I am met with ghostly silence as I yell: 'Vytali! Vytali!'

  Kneeling at the brink of a building I scour the alley, but there is no sight of a crumpled fall victim. My voice echoes around every asphalt roof and cobblestone artery as I continue to shout his name, but the inexpert freerunner does not respond. When I attempt to contact him on my holowatch there is no answer so I leave a scolding voice message:

  'Vytali, this isn't funny. If you do not send me your co-ordinates I'm leaving without you. We'll see how clever you are when you have to make your way through the slums alone.'

  Vytali does not reply and I am forced to ponder whether he is playing a non-funny practical joke or has become the casualty of his own ill-founded confidence. My search is interrupted by shadowy suspects emerging on a nearby roof.

  'You lost someone?' one of them yells.

  'Yeah, my friend. You seen him?'

  'Us? No. This isn't the type of place for a kid to be wandering around by himself. Never know who you might bump into.'

  'Does that mean you have seen him?

  'I just said no, didn't I? Get lost before you go missing as well.'

  Shuffling down a drainpipe I call Vytali several more times without reply, waking vagrants on cardboard boxes as I wander with a pervading feeling of guilt. Half an hour or so is spent tolerating replies of: 'Shut up and go home!' and 'Your boyfriend doesn't want you, kid!' With my patience on empty I reluctantly decide to call it a night. The smart arse is big enough to look after himself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Crunch Time

  In the morning a yawning Dynah bumps into Mila, who spins around and her sleeping tongue mutters gibberish in response. Having only just risen, they shuffle towards cupboards with eyes half-shut like a pair of zombies on the hunt for food. Meanwhile, Turbo is tinkering with his holowatch following a suspiciously quiet call and I message Vytali from the compuscreen:

  Hey what happened to you? I presume you made it home in one piece. Let me know when you're ready for round 2.

  Most of the gang are still in bed as I check my face in the wall-mounted mirror, pleasantly surprised to see faint bruising around my eye and partially healed nicks. Other than a few negligible aches I feel fine, thanks to the magic pills. The gang will hardly believe the tale of my cash and death struggle and Danger may be my middle name but today I plan to relax - no matter what they suggest.

  'Hey Turbo, get this. I took a Level Two kid to Titan Stolastic last night, ended up in a cage fight!'

  'With all the training you've had, I take it you won?'

  'Aye I won a few hundred credits, can't remember exactly how much. I'll have to check my wallet. I lost the kid though, hope he made it home in one piece!' I briefly laugh, stopping as I remind myself Vytali may have genuinely found himself in jeopardy.

  'You mean to tell me you took some rich kid to the slums and potentially got him killed the first night? Nice! Anyways, I've been talking to Jardine, told him all about what happened to Killow. He thinks he might be able to help and I know you've only just gotten back but he has a mission for us. He requires you, Dynah and Ivor. He'll pay two grand each.'

  'Er, sounds good. Only problem is Ivor is a little reluctant to wake up.'

  'Oh no, he isn't.' Turbo holds his cupped hand beside his mouth and yells, 'Hey Ivor!'

  Moments later a perfectly polished masterpiece emerges through the yellow-tinged door with no sign of the bullet impacts his shell had accumulated. Ivor's previously unreadable grill smiles artificially like a movie star who has undergone cosmetic surgery, thanks to his nanite-repair system.

  'How can I help you on this good morning?' Ivor asks, but I disregard the smug machine to trot upstairs to the bathroom and fulfil the urgent need to scrub my sweaty armpits. When I am done I rinse my combat trousers in the hope any lingering blood stains will pass as part of the design.

  Hanging wet clothes from the bedroom door, I brace myself for another crime-packed day I could really do without. Money is money so I grab two bags of crisps for breakfast and the six of us embark on the journey to meet the rebel leader at Underworld.

  Upon arrival Killow seems undaunted by his virgin voyage into this subterranean stronghold and as we cross the platform the locals shrug at the familiar presence of our group, unimpressed even by our combat mech. Ivor barely fits through the door as we stroll into a different, bigger office to that of our previous visits, which lacks the lavish decor of the smaller room and the clutter of the main section. The nondescript interior feels sterile and the rebel leader awaits at the top of a long metal table.

  'Hello Jardine, where's Ahran?' I ask.

  'He's out a hunting expedition. I've never known anyone be so keen to embrace the outdoors as the neanderthal! Anyway, why don't you lot take a seat and tell me about your discovery?' Jardine replies and the others follow his instruction to sit as I approach him, removing the one remaining item from my pocket.

  'This is the cartridge I found. There was a rock and this augmentator which fused with Ivor's insides, then the rock fused with Killow. It was scary, turned him to stone for a minute and now his skin's rock hard. Try hitting him with something!'

  'Hey shut up, Arturo!'

  'Hmmm I've seen this before, experimental technology from over a decade ago. It's now widely used in mechs but they could never figure out how to make it work safely in humans. Earlier today I re-read a report which said they tested one hundred soldiers. Many died, some were driven insane, but for a while it worked - effectively,' Jardine advises.

  'Died? You said they died! I don't wanna-'

  'Killow, medical technology has moved on since then. If your immune system rejects the nanoparticles they'll have to be removed. I'll have this looked into as a matter
of urgency. If there's a way to remove them it will be done. Most of the men this technology was tested on remained in good health for several years. This gives us time to help you,' Jardine explains.

  'Hey it's not all bad, Killow. I bet Jardine can find out more about your abilities,' I suggest.

  'From what I've read the nano-particles rewrite the genetic code and bind with human tissue to make it tough and durable and they're smart. In times of danger the combat function activates and the body literally becomes a mind-controlled weapon. When you're afraid and adrenaline starts to flow the particles will become fully active. You'll gain additional strength and speed. You'll be able to transform your limbs into weapons, but we'll have to monitor you,' Jardine advises.

  'This explains why the technology was hidden in the ruins. They didn't wanna use it until they knew how to make it work,' Turbo says.

  'It was found in the ruins? Where?' Jardine asks.

  'Charwood Forest, hidden in a secret passage below a castle. Crazy place full of weird, scaly creatures,' I reply.

  'Interesting. The countryside is littered with ruins and they provide ideal hiding places - until a bunch of curious tearaways come along! I'll have to check with central command, see if it's ours. If so we have a better chance of helping Killow. But these weapons would not have been left on display, so how exactly did you locate them?' Jardine asks.

  'We found a body with a map and a code so we jumped down a hole. There was no way back up and it started to flood so we swam through the tunnels. Then we ran past the monsters and used the code to unlock a door. We found the boxes and kept one cartridge and one shiny rock, but we ignored the rest. We had to swim to a hole in the cave wall to escape, almost got eaten in the process,' I reply.

  'So you survived the booby traps? And the guard dogs? And then you figured out how to unlock the hidden door. Why doesn't that surprise me?! This definitely sounds like it could've been one of our guys. Must've been killed by his own trap, how clumsy. You said there were other boxes? We'll need to investigate,' Jardine says.