Max Arena

by Jamie Doyle

  The creature was instantly aware of Max’s intention and shook its great bulk, snapping its head from side to side and shaking its body, but Max held on with his left arm wrapped around the top of the alien’s scalp. Raising his right hand, the knife gleamed and flashed.

  Elsa held her breath, her mouth open and her body frozen. Abdullah’s fingers paused playing with his prayer beads and Joe leaned in closer to the glass, his nose almost touching the pane. Peter remained transfixed. Kris’ fists balled so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Time seemed to slow as the crowd watched Max hold his blade out ready to strike. The beast thrashed and bucked, trying to dislodge him and then the blade flashed one last time.

  Max drove the blade inwards, driving it squarely into the centre of the alien’s eye, right up to the hilt. A gurgling roar filled the stadium only to be drowned out by the ecstasy of the crowd. The creature’s full body convulsions became too great for Max to hold on and he was thrown out to the side.

  This time he controlled his impact with the ground and rolled straight to his feet. Quickly Max turned, his instincts still forcing him onto his toes, wary and ready, but the duel was over.

  The hideous, grey brute was still flailing around, but was now completely aimless, clearly in its death throes. Max stepped backwards away from it just in case some final, biological death mechanism erupted from it. Then it died. Suddenly the convulsions just stopped. It froze for a moment and then toppled over, its disgusting, flabby skin flopping about.

  Max watched it fall, emotionally agnostic to its death. He had won, but all he could do was merely acknowledge it. There was no celebration. No internal joy or satisfaction. It was simply a job done because as the crowd rejoiced his second victory, Max knew the ordeal was far from over.

  He had defeated two foes. He had won two duels, but now came the third. Now came the hardest. Now came Macktidas.

  11:40pm, 31st December. Warlord

  The crowd was delirious. It was a celebration. It was jubilation. It was sheer ecstasy. With the second alien foe dispatched and its corpse vanished from the arena, hope had been replaced by the absolute height of confidence, its deep emotion running rampant amongst the throng of humanity.

  Two different species of extraterrestrial had come and gone, both of them beaten and killed by the crowd’s human champion. What had seemed impossible was now feeling like a certainty. Mankind would not only win tonight, but it would prove its worth to be greater than the alien oppressors threatening it with genocide. Humanity was the stronger race and all it had to do now was beat down the final foe and claim a righteous victory.

  In contrast to the mayhem around him, Max stood silent and motionless within the confines of the arena. Unlike the masses surrounding him, he knew that the space between himself and any possible victory was wide and dark, like a chasm pitching far into the depths of the Earth. His final foe still stood between himself and the light of safety and that foe was more fearsome, more dangerous and more skilled than anything he had yet seen tonight. Macktidas.

  Max had never seen the creature in real life, but he had seen and felt its potency through the mind link he shared with his mother. Macktidas was a warrior and a monster. Borne of the elite in the Nar’gellan race, he physically dominated all others and by the might of his own hands, he had wrested the rulership of his race from Max’s parents, inflicting death and carnage in the act.

  Max’s mother had known Macktidas would eventually find her son and so she had guided him into a life of preparation, not of hiding. The truth had been the most effective means of helping Max come to terms with what was just about to unfold. Silently, Max thanked his mother again. She had been right to prepare him and now he was ready. Ready to fight and ready to die if needs be.

  Standing at one end of the arena, Max had eyes only for three people. With no weapon in hand, he stood motionless, looking up at the glass box where his family stood. He had no words for his wife and children, but he knew in his heart what their thoughts were because those thoughts were his also. They always had been. He may right now be champion for the human race, but his family were his heroes and if his life ended in this next bout, Max knew his life had been full and rich and so had his family’s. The time had come. Max placed his open palm on his heart and sent his love up through the space between them. He watched Elsa do the same.

  Then, Max sensed a change in the atmosphere. He stood at one end of the arena, nearest his family and so had the majority of the field behind him. The mood in the stadium abruptly changed, the celebration suddenly halting, like it had been rudely interrupted. Max felt a slight electric charge in the air. Arms and fingers raised all around the stadium, pointing to the centre of the arena, jubilant faces suddenly becoming tense and frightful. Something was happening behind him.

  Max held his gaze on his family for just a moment longer and then slowly turned on the spot. His gaze moved round one hundred and eighty degrees and Max found the source of the interruption.

  A broad, cerulean beam of light shone directly down from the heavens and onto the very centre of the grassed area. It penetrated from the dark skies overhead like a shaft of energy. Inside the blue column, Max could see tiny sparks of energy, rippling and crackling like miniature electrical storms.

  ‘What is that?’ Kris asked.

  ‘Macktidas,’ Max replied.

  ‘So, you really think he’s coming after all?’

  ‘I have no doubt and when he does come, he won’t stop. This is where it ends.’

  ‘Then go and grab a weapon would you?

  ‘Make sure the gloves are charged.’

  ‘On it,’ Kris said, ‘and remember, our only pair is up the other end from me?’

  Max acknowledged the warning. Abdullah’s engineering team had really struggled to invent this particular weapon and so only one, sole pair of electric gloves had been made in time and even now it was dangerously hap hazard to use. The charging mechanism was flaky and prone to failing, but it was all they had and to be fair, Abdullah’s engineers had come through with everything else Max had needed, including some of the weapons he had already used in the first two bouts. This was not a time to complain. This was a time to fight.

  ‘Thanks,’ Max replied. ‘Here we go.’

  ‘Go stick it to him, big guy,’ Kris growled back. ’Make him wish he’d never heard of you.’

  Max opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the atmosphere charged even higher. The shaft of blue light intensified to a deeper shade and the electricity bolts inside arced even brighter.

  The crowd cowed down. A slight breeze stirred the blades of grass, ruffling the surface of the arena like ripples on the ocean. Max started to walk, slowly circling the crackling beam of energy, his attention glued to it. He kept his movements steady and fluid, his balance firm. Max knew that the moment Macktidas hit the ground, it would be relentless, right up until someone or something died.

  Then it happened. The shaft of light suddenly blazed, its radiance engulfing the stadium and momentarily blinding everyone. Instead of raising his hands to cover his eyes, Max squinted into the brilliance and in that instant, he saw his foe appear.

  A split second later, Macktidas was on the turf, accompanied by a great gust of swirling wind that seemed to snuff out the shaft of light. A great, gut-wrenching roar rent the night, cowering all twenty thousand people in the stands, the unholy noise trembling the ground beneath them.

  Max beheld the monster, all nine feet of him, the width across his shoulders equal to Max’s height. Macktidas resembled his own soldiers in physical shape, appearing as a giant, gorilla-like humanoid with dark, shimmering skin and the heaving musculature of a Greek God. His armour shone in sparkling silver, his linked, breast and back plates covering his torso while forearm, thigh and shin plates protected his limbs. His face was pure anger, the whites of his eyes glaring balefully out from beneath a deep brow and above great, rounded cheekbones. His bared teeth bore fangs as long as short swords and molars
that could grind human bones like candy. His giant nostrils flared like volcanic vents, his breathing harsh and louder than a steam train, and then he moved.

  Macktidas charged forward on all fours like a gigantic silverback, his massive fists pounding into the grass, tearing up huge divots. His roar matched the shuddering of the ground as he rumbled forwards, not lumbering or ungainly, but powerfully like a huge machine that greedily ate up the space in front of it, devouring any sense of order before it.

  In a matter of split seconds, Macktidas had covered the fifty metres between himself and Max, his enormous, bunched fists whipping up over his head and then swinging down towards Max like twin wrecking balls.

  Max had frozen, but he was balanced, poised to move once his enemy showed its hand. As Macktidas’ blows hurtled towards him, Max took two steps forward and leapt high, somersaulting over his foe’s fists and landing nimbly on the grass to Macktidas’ left side. Max hit the ground running and just as well. Macktidas’ speed was blinding. In an instant the beast turned and thrashed out at his smaller opponent, but Max was again equal to the task, forward rolling and coming up clear.

  Now Max was sprinting. If everything his mother had told him was true, he needed to get those electric gloves on. They would be his only true chance of victory and they were up the other end. Pumping his legs like pistons, Max powered across the turf, his orange shoes a blur, but Macktidas was right after him, bellowing like the world was coming to an end. As Max ran, Macktidas swung his massive fists after him, just missing, but Max could feel the rush of air on his back.

  ‘Gloves are out,’ Kris said into his earpiece, ‘but they’re not charged yet. They’re playing up again.’

  ‘He’s too close anyway,’ Max breathed back.

  With Macktidas swinging at his heels, Max sprinted directly for the far end of the arena. He could see the gloves on the ledge, but he also knew that if he hit the wall, Macktidas would smash straight into him. He needed to stay in the clear and give himself room to manoeuvre.

  Suddenly, with only twenty metres to go before running out of space and still at full speed, Max jumped up, tucked his feet in and spun in the air. Turning and rolling in mid flight, he flattened himself to hit the grass, chest first. As he touched down, Max kicked his feet out and dug his toes in, using his hands for added grip. Effectively facing the other way, Max juddered to a halt, looked up and found his enemy screaming onto him.

  Launching forward, Max stayed low and like a bullet, he zipped straight through the monster’s lumbering legs and out into the clear, sprinting again like a man on fire.

  The giant roared and spun, flailing his huge brawny arms in the air. Without pausing, Macktidas bounded off in pursuit, his eyes boring into Max’s back. Max ran even faster than before. With the extra space, he could concentrate more clearly on his plan of attack. Lasering his gaze ahead of him, Max saw the ledge at the far end where Kris and the primary weapons bay lay.

  ‘Tridents,’ he breathed and as he watched, two gleaming objects were placed on the ledge.

  With the giant’s roar filling his senses, Max ran on. The crowd had vanished behind an impenetrable veil of adrenalin and focus. The world around him was gone. Even the wind in his hair and bracing across his face was without sensation. All Max could feel was his own heartbeat, his lungs bellowing and his blood siphoning throughout his body, fuelling him faster and faster. Until he could get to the gloves, all Max could do was evade the creature’s fury, but right now he wanted a weapon. He needed to make the alien bleed. That at least might make it pause and take notice.

  Max could feel Macktidas still behind him, but his spatial awareness also told him he had only a few moments space. Charging up to the ledge, Max leapt forward, somersaulted and twisted to land on the raised platform in a squatting position, his hands reaching down between his legs to grasp the handles of the tridents. Macktidas filled his vision, the giant’s snarling, bawling visage blotting out everything behind it, and then Max sprang.

  Uncoiling his legs like steel springs, Max vaulted high overhead Macktidas. As he sailed over the creature’s left shoulder, he stabbed downwards with his right trident, puncturing Macktidas’ upper back in the fleshy part behind the collar bone. Pulling the trident out, Max fell to the ground, rolled and was up and sprinting again.

  Instantly Max realised the creature was not in pursuit. Reaching the centre of the arena, he braved to stop and turn. Macktidas still stood at the end where Max had vaulted over him, clutching at his upper back where Max had stabbed him. Max could see a rich purple liquid seeping through the alien’s clenched hand covering the wound. He had hurt the monster and it had suddenly taken notice.

  If Max’s focus had allowed him to, he would have heard the hysteria of the crowd as they realised their champion had drawn blood. Sparing a glance down at his trident, Max found a thin smear of the same purple substance on the steel. He had hurt the alien, but it was a flesh wound and would not waylay it for long. If Macktidas’ healing abilities were as potent as his own, the injury was probably already healing. Max needed the gloves. Without any further pause, he started sprinting for the far end, the cat and mouse game continuing.

  ‘Those gloves charged yet?’ he asked as he ran, the tridents flashing in silver whirls on either side of his hurtling form.

  ‘Yes,’ Kris replied. ‘Get ‘em on.’

  Then Max sensed something else. Something behind him. Without turning, Max dived chest first onto the ground and slid forwards on the slick grass, his arms and the tridents out wide. Lifting his chin, he watched a massive javelin spear the air overhead, right where his torso had been. The ten foot long spike continued on straight as a line until it crashed into the barrier at the end of the stadium, the crowd behind the clear Perspex scurrying like rats to avoid the impact should the weapon break through.

  Max didn’t pause. Instantly, he was up and running again, but as he rose, he cast a glance behind him and found Macktidas already thundering down the length of the arena, voraciously chewing up the space between them. He also now had his sword in hand. Macktidas had upped the ante.

  Knees driving, hands pumping and heart beating, Max drove forwards to the end. He could see the gloves lying on the ledge, but again he knew Macktidas was too close for him to retrieve them. No sooner would he have them in his hands and the behemoth would be on top of him, disallowing him the killer grip he needed around Macktidas’ throat to effect maximum injury. There was only one thing to do. Confront the beast.

  Arcing slightly to his right, Max led Macktidas to the side. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the monster raise his sword out to the right. Planting his foot, Max jumped high and spun. Macktidas’ sword sliced the air beneath him, murderously cleaving the space Max had been in. As Max flew high, he extended his tridents out, the points cutting like spikes.

  Hitting the ground, Max turned and looked up at his enemy, finding him doubled over and roaring. The crowd were again going berserk, but Max was uncaring. Cautious tension racked his body. Suddenly Macktidas flicked his face round and Max saw the gash high on his right cheek. He had cut the giant’s face open, forcing more purple blood to spill out. The monster’s lips peeled back to reveal its full mouth of teeth, gleaming in rows of pearlescent death. Malevolence radiated, contorting Macktidas’ face into pure nightmare. Max knew this face. This was the face that had killed his family. Instead of fear, the expression lifted Max even higher.

  As Max stared back at the beast, he suddenly realised the giant’s sword was moving, much faster than anything he had ever experienced. Buckling his knees, Max controlled a backward fall onto his heels as the sword scythed over him. Springing back up, he bounded backwards to gain more space, but Macktidas’ massive left fist drilled downwards faster than he had expected. Dodging to the right, the blow pounded the grass next to Max, the impact rocking the ground. Max turned to dodge again, but this time he was too slow. Macktidas flicked his left fist up off the ground and his knuckles caught Max full on in the
chest, lifting him off his feet and hurtling backwards. The brutality of the blow knocked the air from Max’s lungs and the tridents from his hands.

  Sailing backwards, Max kept his focus fixed on Macktidas who was already moving to catch up to him. In mid flight, Max sucked in a new lung full of air and flicked his feet up over his head in a backward somersault. Landing on his feet again, Max’s gaze filled with Macktidas bearing down on him, his huge sword slicing downwards like an enormous cleaver, edge down onto his head.

  Stepping to the side, the blade slammed into the ground next to Max, burying deep and forming a great cleave in the turf. Max was ready this time for the follow-up blow as Macktidas’ left fist drove down. Diving forward, he got inside Macktidas’ defences and again slipped between his legs. Macktidas spun, looking down for his foe, but Max was too quick, ducking and diving to stay out of the giant’s reach.

  Then Macktidas lifted a foot and Max had his advantage. Nimbly, he stepped up onto the monster’s foot and using it for a boost, drove upwards to smash his right fist in under the creature’s chin, snapping Macktidas’ head backwards, but Macktidas had simultaneously countered with a straight left punch. The blow struck Max in the stomach and he flew backwards, tumbling in flight and out of control.

  Macktidas stumbled backwards, his sword flailing. Max tumbled to the ground, rolling out into the centre of the arena like a discarded rag doll. Both combatants paused. Macktidas stood dazed. Max lay unmoving. The crowd fell silent.

  ‘Get up!’ Kris yelled. ‘Get up!’

  High in her glass box, Elsa instinctively reached forward to lay her hand on the glass, a gasp whispering past her lips. She could feel her heart hammering, her blood pulsing. Tunnel vision consumed her perspective as she searched for movement, and then Max’s fingers flinched.