Prime City: A Science Fiction Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 2)

by Michael Robertson

  But Marcie held still. “We need to get into the city.”

  “It’s not worth dying for.”

  “I won’t die. You know that.”

  The Eye’s cheeks puffed out and his glare widened.

  Slip frowned at Marcie as he looked her up and down. “It’s nice that you’re confident.” He nodded at the ring. “That was a prize fight. The winner just got two thousand credits.”

  Kids in black jackets ran through the crowd, credit card machines in their hands as they took slips from what must have been successful bets. “Only two thousand?” the Eye said. “Mads must have made a shitload more than that.”

  “Regardless of what Mads makes, two thousand credits is worth fighting for in the Black Hole. But you get much more if you win a bounty fight.”

  A booth overlooked the ring. It had tinted glass, hiding those inside. “Is Mads in there?” Marcie said.

  “He usually is. It takes a lot for him to miss a fight.”

  While they talked, the ring got hosed down to clear the fresh blood. A large metal disc lowered from the ceiling. It hovered a few inches from the mat. “What’s that thing?” Marcie said.

  “It’s a dryer,” Slip said. “The floor needs to be dry for the next fight. It’s for a bounty in Prime City.”

  “How do I put myself in for it?”

  “Marcie.” The Eye pulled her around so she looked at him. “I’ll say this one last time; are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “They’ll put out an open call for competitors.” Slip shrugged. “Mads always has someone ready to go, so they’ll be looking for a challenger. There normally aren’t any. But Mads likes to keep the options open for a fight if anyone’s feeling particularly brave.”

  “Marce,” the Eye said again.

  Marcie gave him her blue glasses and her credit card. “Put two thousand on me to win.”

  A flight of steps led from where they stood to the ring’s entrance. By the time Marcie had climbed about a quarter of the way, many in the crowd were laughing. Although, when she entered the ring, they fell silent.

  A large woman in the front row pointed at Marcie. “You can’t let her fight. Look at her.”

  A commentator’s voice came from the speakers in the ceiling. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a contender. We weren’t going to bring Behemoth out today. It’s been months since anyone’s challenged him. You’ll have to give us a minute to get him ready.”

  The noise in the crowd lifted as the black jackets weaved through them, taking bets. Had any of them bet on Marcie?

  The Eye and Slip had a space cleared for them at ringside. The Eye’s pale skin had turned paler. Slip chewed on his bottom lip.

  Marcie’s stomach turned perpetual backflips, but she could do this. She clenched her fists and shook them. The springy floor of the mat bounced beneath her as she muttered, “I can do this.”

  By the time the crowd fell silent again, Marcie’s palms were sweating, and excess saliva ran down the back of her throat. She gulped against her need to vomit and then spat when it didn’t help.

  The lights went out, throwing them into complete darkness.

  Silence.

  Then a squeaking. The turning of a winch.

  A bright white light strobed, giving the impression of slow motion when the fighter appeared outside the ring through a hole in the floor. A man, or at least what used to be a man, the now cyborg had the physique of a bear and stood close to three metres tall. He had glowing green eyes, a metal jaw, and long flowing white hair.

  The lights came on when he stepped into the ring. He stared at Marcie for a second, shook his head, and turned to the tinted booth above him. He threw his arms wide as if imploring its occupants.

  The crowd fell silent.

  The commentator’s voice echoed through the arena. “Mads has given this fight the go-ahead.”

  The Eye grabbed a black jacket and handed over Marcie’s credit card.

  “Behemoth, ready?”

  The large cyborg shrugged, grunted, and then nodded.

  “Contender, ready?”

  Marcie gulped again and raised her fists. Could she really beat him?

  “Fight!”

  The crowd roared as Behemoth charged. He wound back his powerful right arm to strike, his bicep wider than Marcie stood tall. When Marcie ducked the anticipated attack, he punched her with his left. The blow lifted her from her feet and damn near realigned her skeleton. It turned her weightless, slamming her into the cage with a crash!

  She fell to the mat and the crowd quietened again. The deep thud of Behemoth’s steps descended on her. One more blow like that and the canvas would be soaked with her blood.

  Chapter 31

  Marcie’s head spun from the blow as Behemoth closed in, his heavy steps flipping her on the mat like popping corn in a hot pan. A childish trick, she played dead, dimming the glow in her red eyes.

  Behemoth leaped in the air, linked both hands, and raised them above his head. His silhouette eclipsed the ring’s spotlight, throwing her into shadow.

  Before he landed, Marcie rolled beneath him.

  The impact of his missed attack lifted her at least two metres from the mat. She twisted in the air and landed on her feet.

  The crowd cheered until Behemoth quietened them with a roar. He charged again. His hands balled into fists, he held them out to either side. Which one would he attack her with now?

  At the last moment, Marcie jumped left. His hurled fist came so close it dragged wind across her front before she charged to the opposite side of the cage.

  The crowd cheered again.

  His face locked in a grimace, Behemoth dropped to all fours, using his oversized upper body to propel him forwards.

  A silhouette then shifted in the booth overlooking the arena. They’d stepped closer to the glass. Marcie took a two-step run-up and jumped, clearing Behemoth by several metres. He slammed into the cage, many of the crowd diving out of the way.

  She landed behind him and drove three quick attacks into the back of his head. It felt like punching rock, but when Behemoth turned, his legs wobbled before giving out beneath him. He fell, the arena shaking as if hit by an earthquake.

  The crowd got to their feet when the commentator roared, “Finish him!”

  But Marcie only killed when she had to. She shook her head and left the arena to boos and jeers. She’d already beaten him. What sense was there in taking his life?

  Chapter 32

  The monoline shook the walls of the shitty hotel, and Marcie woke with a gasp. God only knew why that one in particular cut through her dreams. A screeching train flew past every few minutes, and none of the others had disturbed her sleep. When she sat up, the covers fell away, and she found the Eye already awake, the computer she’d brought him on his lap. She said, “Two days in this place and it feels like we’ve been here forever.”

  The clack of fingers against the keyboard answered her. She shook her head. “Good chat!”

  Another train flew past, the yellowed net curtain in front of the window shifting with the waft of air cast by the fast-moving vehicle.

  “I think she’s nearly done,” the Eye said.

  “She?”

  “Jasmine.”

  “You’re talking about your computer, right?”

  “You won’t be so dismissive when she’s fully operational. She could be our ticket out of here.”

  Even with her enhancements, Marcie’s entire body ached. She winced when she touched her swollen and cut face. “Man, Behemoth had a wicked punch on him.”

  “No shit! With shoulders like that, you’re lucky he didn’t decapitate you. And you’re lucky you only took one shot.”

  “That wasn’t luck.”

  “What were you thinking letting him hit you?”

  “I didn’t let him.”

  “You were complacent. You’re better than that.”

  “Thanks for the lecture.” She rubbed her aching jaw. “Were it not for your bollock
ing, I’m not sure I would have learned my lesson.”

  The clickety-clack of fingers over the keyboard responded.

  Marcie stood up and stretched. She pulled her socks on and then her shoes. The lack of heating in the hotel had forced her to sleep in the rest of her clothes. At some point she’d need to get more. Maybe she could also convince the Eye to replace his beloved coat.

  “Where are you going?” the Eye said.

  “To get my bounty from Mads.”

  “What?”

  “He owes me. I won that fight fair and square, and now he owes me a visa and a bounty in Prime City.”

  So preoccupied with fixing his computer, the Eye didn’t look up when she left the room and slammed the door.

  Burned orange carpet lined the hotel’s stairs. Covered in stains from grease, scorch marks, and chewing gum. And the parts that weren’t stained were threadbare. The same carpet continued through reception. The fat and greasy owner remained in the small kiosk as if he hadn’t moved. “Morning,” he said.

  “Fuck off,” Marcie replied.

  The wintry morning snapped Marcie to attention when she stepped outside, the bright sun in the cloudless sky on her like the arena’s spotlight. She hugged herself and rubbed the outsides of her own arms before descending the small flight of stairs and joining the other pedestrians on the busy street. Up until this point she’d been a ghost in this place. But now she’d fought in the arena, more people turned her way. The red targets in her eyes worked overtime identifying all who took an interest.

  A small girl no more than seven or eight waited until Marcie got close before she said, “Coward.”

  “What did you say?”

  The girl’s mum pulled her daughter in. Yellow hair, deep bags beneath her eyes, and several gaps where teeth once were. She pursed her wrinkled lips, her blue grey glare dead when she hissed, “She called you a coward. You let Behemoth go when you should have finished him. You are a coward.”

  “I’d rather be a coward than a murderer.”

  “Behemoth would have rather died a warrior’s death than live a life of shame. You robbed him of that.”

  “I’m not stopping him ending it. I just refuse for it to be at my hand.”

  The woman went off like a hysterical chicken. “Suicide?” Many in the crowd stopped to watch. “You’re suggesting he takes his own life?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m simply saying he won’t die at my hand. I beat him. I had no reason to kill him.”

  More red targets appeared around Marcie. More angry faces turned her way. More people queued up to tell her exactly what they thought. She couldn’t reason her way out of this drama. The people tried to press in around her, but she shoved them aside, knocking one man to the ground as she headed in the direction of the abattoir. Mads owed her a bounty she intended to claim.

  The people in the street soon gave up following Marcie. She reached the small glowing skull with the crosses for eyes. It remained on over the large steel door, but when Marcie shoved it, it held still. She shoved it again. Nothing. On the third attempt, she knocked against the cold surface, the echo of it calling into the building beyond.

  “You won’t get through there now. The arena’s closed.”

  “Slip? Where did you come from?”

  The boy shrugged.

  “I need to see Mads. He owes me a bounty.”

  “You want to go and see Mads?”

  “He owes me.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “It seems that the best way for me to get paid right now is to go and see Mads. I won the fight. That should be enough to get the bounty and visa.”

  “Look, I can take you to his palace if that’s what you really want.”

  “How many different ways do I have to tell you? It is what I want.”

  “But once you go down this road, you’re all in.”

  A crowd had gathered again. They kept their distance, but they were definitely there for Marcie. For their benefit, she raised her voice. “I intend to get what’s mine. I refuse to be taken advantage of.”

  Unlike the brave little girl, none of the crowd responded.

  They’d lost the second crowd by the time they got to Mads’ palace about ten minutes later. The streets were quieter here. Peaceful even … until the monoline’s shriek cut through the relative tranquility, flying over their heads like a wailing banshee.

  At first, the place looked like no more than a collection of abandoned buildings. A higgledy-piggledy mess of shops and bars and brothels. Pubs, restaurants, and workshops. All of them had closed for business. But on closer inspection, the interconnectedness became apparent. The brickwork tied one establishment into the next. Small patch-up jobs sealed off some windows and had opened skylights along the roof. Stretching at least fifty metres wide. Marcie smiled. “I can see why he calls it his palace.”

  “This is your last chance to change your mind,” Slip said.

  Marcie approached the main front door. Made from steel like the one at the abattoir, but this one shone from where it had been looked after over the years. The care put into it made it stand out from the faux dilapidation of its surroundings. Not that Mads needed to hide his home or ask for his privacy. His presence clearly commanded it. She knocked.

  A second later, the door clicked open. Marcie pushed against the cold steel and entered. Slip followed behind.

  Double doors at the end of a corridor, Marcie knocked and entered for a second time. Ten to twenty large skylights lit the vast space, the bright winter sun reflecting off the highly polished white tiles. A grand ballroom at least thirty metres square, she turned three hundred and sixty degrees, her cybernetics twitching in preparation for a fight. At the opposite end of the hall sat another set of double doors. In front of them, a large throne.

  “Where is everyone?” Marcie said, her voice carrying through the vast space.

  Someone answered on the third echo, the snap of a bolt being freed on the other side of the room. A man stepped from one of the single doors at the other end. A physical specimen at least six feet and six inches tall. He clearly worked out, his muscles on display through the front of his open robe. He had closely cropped brown hair and tranquil yet penetrative brown eyes. Marcie shuddered, her breath visible in the cold room. She spoke from the side of her mouth. “Is that Mads?”

  Before Slip could answer, the man said, “I’m One. I’m Mads’ right-hand man.”

  “Where’s Mads?”

  One smiled and kept his tone even. “Anything Mads needs, I supply. Including dealing with guests. Those glasses”—he pointed at Marcie’s face—“best never come in here trying to record. It’s more than your life’s worth.” Before Marcie could reply, he added, “I must say, you put on quite a performance yesterday.”

  “Cut the crap,” Marcie said. Slip gasped and clapped a hand to his mouth. She shrugged. “You owe me a bounty.”

  Not only did One smile, but his eyes sparkled as he continued across the room towards her, his steps graceful and deliberate, the heels of his shoes hitting the white tiles with a metronomic click. “I like you. You’re feisty.”

  Although Marcie opened her mouth, One cut her off. “And you’re right, we do owe you. Mads wondered why you left so soon after beating Behemoth. People usually stick around if they’ve won.”

  Marcie relaxed a little. “When I didn’t kill my opponent, it became clear I’d overstayed my welcome.”

  Now just a metre away from her, One said, “Hold out your arm.”

  A glance at Slip, who nodded for Marcie to do as instructed.

  One had a long metal device about the size and shape of a large screwdriver. He pushed the end of the cold metal against her forearm and pressed the red button on the top. Thwump.

  A sharp pain, although no more than a wasp’s sting.

  One squeezed Marcie’s arm and his smile broadened. “Fascinating. I’d love to take a look under the hood.”

  Marcie pulle
d away. “So where’s the bounty?”

  One held a small computer chip in a pinch. About two centimetres square, his large hands dwarfed the thing. “This has everything you need on it. Can you read it?”

  “Jasmine can.”

  “Huh?”

  Marcie nodded. “Yes, I can.”

  “Good.” A tap against her forearm, One said, “This visa will last for four hours, but at least you won’t have to wear the collar. After that, it will dissolve and your body will clear out the small traces of it that remain. It’s completely harmless, but whatever you do, don’t overstay your welcome. A second too long and you’ll become Prime City’s next hottest bounty. You should have plenty of time to catch the man. You’ll get fifteen thousand credits if you complete the job. Any questions?”

  “Why’s the bounty less than you paid me for the fight?”

  “Capitalism.”

  “Huh?”

  “We knew everyone would bet against you, so when you won, we made a killing. It’s only fair you got a decent cut. The way a bounty’s priced is completely different. For this one, no one’s prepared to pay any more than fifteen thousand. Well, obviously they’re paying more than that, but we have to take our cut.”

  “Which is how much?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Now, do you have any more questions?”

  She’d spent quite long enough in Mads’ palace. Marcie shook her head.

  “Good. I hope to see you soon.”

  Chapter 33

  Three guards stood by the gates between the Black Hole and Prime City. Where they’d been leaning against the wall, they all stood more rigid when Marcie approached. How often did they get people from the Black Hole trying to get through, giving them their sob story and excuses for not having a visa?

  One of the women, shorter than Marcie but with a twist to her face that suggested she had the will to wrestle an elephant to the ground, placed her hands on her hips and looked Marcie up and down. “What do you want?”