The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

“Are you waiting for a video ref? Or a cheerleader?” Wade said softly and Harvey bared his teeth to hiss angrily, Cacalti bellowing with fury and taking off like a mag-train towards the lizard, footsteps sending vibrations through the rooftop. Scott wondered what the people inside the building were thinking down below. “Scythe, plan A.”

  Like Becko, Scythe bore the blades on its forearms that made the species so popular in bouts and it was those blades that it brought to bear with a flourish that was at least half showmanship. With powerful legs, Scythe leaped up into the air gracefully evading the oncoming troll, diving down to rake the blades across the backs of its legs. Somehow Scott doubted they’d cut through that thick stony skin but the roar that came from Cacalti proved otherwise as the troll stumbled down, almost putting a great fist down through the roof.

  Harvey blanched, his face suddenly overcome with fury as Cacalti turned its head back with difficulty and launched a steaming orange uniblast from its jaws, Scott could feel the heat from here and Scythe had to dive aside to avoid being cooked on the spot. Cacalti rose up uneasily, body contorted uneasily and Scott could see the blood gushing from the back of the troll’s legs. It wasn’t going to be moving freely anytime soon, the aim had been good. Unfortunately, trolls weren’t known for their mobility. Harvey’s might be more agile than some but they were much more dangerous when being kept stationary, holding their ground. The needles came out again with Harvey trying to press his modicum of advantage with Scythe on the run, the lizard turned and took them on the blades, deflecting them down into the ground before setting off at a darting run towards Cacalti.

  The troll bellowed, brought back its fist to wind up for a blow, one that would shatter bones if Scott’s judge of its strength was anything to go by. It never connected, the blow swung in and Scythe ducked under it, moving into a neatly thrown spinning slash that brought a great rent across Cacalti’s chest, great scars torn into it by razor sharp blades. In close for the first time, Cacalti lunged forward, tried to slam its body into Scythe and succeeded, the lizard let out a whoomphing sound of surprise as the great stone body crashed into it, thrown down to its knees. Harvey laughed suddenly, high and shrill as Cacalti went rigid, holding its body as stiffly as it could, before starting to fall face forward down onto the unprotected back of the leaf lizard. Scott saw Wade’s eyes widen, dart to the already damaged roof and he muttered something out the corner of his mouth as the troll came crashing down with a decisive crash amid a cloud of dust and mortar debris.

  “And that’s that,” Harvey said, making an exaggerated hand dusting motion and stretching his arms out behind his head listlessly. “You’re just as outclassed as these two. I must say…” Around them, the dust was starting to clear, slowly. Scott wondered why the roof hadn’t gone through. “… I’m disappointed. I expected more, especially from a man like you and what do I get?” He narrowed his eyes at the sounds of exertion, Wade continued to stand tall and impassive, silently imposing as the dust cleared. The muscles in Scythe’s legs were at full stretch, Harvey’s jaws fell open as he saw Scythe prone on its back, supporting the weight of the troll with just its hind legs to stop it hitting the rooftop.

  “You get what you deserve,” Wade said. There was no hint of an order but with one final exertion, Scythe let out a shriek and pushed the great stone-skinned troll up away from it, Cacalti staggering back in pain and confusion. Not letting the opportunity slide, Scythe rose up and charged in, blades whipping back and forth across the skin, never missing their mark, never failing to cut and great sheaths of skin started to go under their rake.

  “No, my cool Cacalti!” Harvey whimpered, suddenly aware of what had happened and unable to do anything to stop it. Several times the troll made to move, as if to force itself out of a hole but the leaf lizard was there to block any sort of comeback, its movements just too quick for the troll to do anything about.

  As Cacalti went down, Pete turned to Scot and rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should have used Becko instead of Palawi.”

  Any reply Scott wanted to make was quickly cut out by the sight of Harvey’s mouth silently opening and closing in shock, he looked like a giant drooping fish, a favourite pet for children all over Canterage. His shock didn’t last long as Wade strolled over to him, hands out in front of him in an appeasing motion.

  “You have nowhere to go,” he said gently. “Give yourself up now, it counts for a lot I hear. You can’t undo what you’ve done here, but you can avoid making it worse for yourself. Take your lumps now, they’ll hurt less later.”

  The great fleshy face that stared into his radiated anger and hatred. “Fuck you! I’ll take you all with me!” Harvey’s hand plunged into his jacket and he swept a blaster out in a clumsy motion, bringing it to bear on Wade.

  He might even have been able to point it at him, had the smaller man not swept in with one sudden quick motion. In close with Harvey, he put a hand on the wrist and started to twist it down towards the ground, his eyes meeting the other mans. “Not a good idea. Do you know how much pressure is needed on the human wrist before it breaks? I do.” He continued to twist, the blaster pointed at the ground and away from harming anyone. Scott and Pete had already thrown themselves down to the rooftop, well out of the way. Now Scott looked up, saw the pained look on Harvey’s face and the steel in Wade’s eyes. “Drop it, or I’ll show you.”

  Defiantly, Harvey shook his head, petulance breaking through the pain. Several seconds later, the crack of breaking bone rang through the silence of the night, followed by a shriek of agony. The flash and the snap as the blaster discharged into the roof came a second later before another thud, elbow meeting nose, fists meeting ample gut and then Wade was rubbing his forehead having driven it hard into Harvey’s already damaged face.

  “What’s going to happen to him now?”

  Wade looked down at the two boys in front of him… Boys was maybe the wrong term. They’d done something incredibly brave. Stupid and naïve perhaps but also brave. They’d faced down a maniac and although they’d done a lot of things wrong, they’d gotten away with it.

  “I assume he’ll be processed in the regular fashion,” Wade said. “Assault, attempted kidnap, there’s a rumour going around a body in his hotel room they want to talk to him about…” He saw the looks on their faces. “One of the officers let it slip. Good thing I’m not with the media really.” He tapped the side of his face, grinned at them both. Fuzzing their recollection of the brief scuffle wasn’t a tricky thing. But at the same time, he needed to do it under Unisco regulations. Just in case.

  His head ached and he knew he’d have a bruise there down the line from that final smash to Rocastle’s face. “I’m just glad I managed to talk him down before he did something truly desperate.”

  “It’s good you managed to talk him down,” Scott said slowly. “Before he did something desperate.”

  “Thanks for that, by the way,” Pete said. “I was worried for a moment.”

  “Shame he fell down the stairs on the way down,” Wade added, tapping the side of his face again. Already he could imagine the muffler working its effects, not erasing just confusing what they’d seen with what he said they’d seen. He’d been in touch with Okocha, the electronic footprint was being monitored for anything potentially incriminating against him. So why did he feel so worried? Maybe because it was his boss’s daughter, already being seen to by a pair of medics. He hadn’t even realised who it was until after the event.

  Good job on observation, Wade, he chided himself. It had been entirely fortunate he’d made the connections. Harvey Rocastle. First time he’d been involved in the arrest of a spirit dancer, normally they weren’t the bad sorts. But there was a first time for everything, he supposed. Every group of people had their rotten ones, why would the dancers be any different.

  A thought for another day, he brought his hand down to his waist and switched the muffler off, tucking a thumb into the loop of his belt as he looked down at the two of them, wondering the best w
ay to give them the talk. The one about staying out of other people’s potentially dangerous business. Maybe they wouldn’t take it in, it didn’t mean he didn’t have to give it them. At least for his own conscience.

  Wade sighed as he looked at the two of them, the words clear in his mind. “A lesson for you, boys. It’s not always about power. To get to this point by now, you should know that strategy trumps power every time. That is why you couldn’t defeat him. You didn’t utilise your advantages. Two against one, you could have double teamed him, coordinated your attacks. Instead both of you attacked as individuals and it nearly cost a young woman her freedom, if not her life.”

  Pete looked annoyed, like there was something he wanted to say in outrage, tinges of red bursting lively into his cheek. Scott on the other hand looked a little ashamed and spoke up.

  “Ah, Mr Wallerington, sir?” he said softly. “It was my fault. I did everything you said. I saw her on the ground, I just… I was scared for her. I didn’t want that lunatic to hurt her. Pete did everything you said we should have. I just… It’d have been my fault. I just… I don’t know what I…”

  “You’re a passionate man,” Wade said. “But there’s a line we all must straddle between control and chaos. Let your passion rule you and it will consume you. A lesson for you. Learn from it, it’s the best thing you can do. Don’t ever let it happen again.”

  Pete smiled weakly. “Hells of a memorable first date for you, huh Scotty?”

  “Think she’ll want to see me again?” Scott said, before looking up at Wade. “Thank you, sir. I will learn from it. I’ll not let it happen again.”

  “Next time, alert someone professional about the whole thing as well,” Wade said. “What were you thinking going up there in the first place?”

  Scott suddenly looked a little sheepish. “Just a bad feeling, I guess. She’d been gone a while, I didn’t trust that freak and, well…”

  “I think what he’s trying to say is he doesn’t know,” Pete offered. “But it was a good thing he did. Rather than waste time arguing with someone who might not believe him.”

  Wade nodded. He wasn’t here to judge and they had a point. Still, it didn’t mean they should be encouraged to do it again. Not without training.

  Hmm… Something to keep in mind for the future. They might be ideal candidates for Unisco. He’d have to keep an eye on them.

  “Can we go now?” Scott asked. “I want to see if she’s okay.”

  Wade let them, putting his hands in his pockets and switching the voice recorder off. Always handy to have a log of the conversation following something like this. The chances were that it might blow up into a stunning shit storm and he wasn’t taking the risk of being underprepared.

  He glanced over his shoulder, saw David Wilsin stood peering over at the scenes, a stunning brunette on his arm. She looked familiar, he couldn’t place where nor did he want to. Either way, Wilsin looked a little bemused by the scenes in front of them, especially the victim walking towards the medical speeder.

  “Mia Arnholt?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Wade. “Unlucky girl since she got here, I think.”

  Aware of the events that had transpired around the flood, Wade nodded. “You could say that.”

  “She okay?”

  “She’ll be fine. Nothing some time in hospital won’t fix. Nothing permanent. Rocastle came off worse.”

  “A damn spirit dancer going nuts… Damn.” Wilsin sounded about as disbelieving as Wade himself had about the whole thing. “Bet her dad’s going to go spare about this.”

  “Aren’t you relieved you’re not going to be the one to tell him?” Wade knew that job was going to fall to him, even if the director already knew. Even if it hadn’t been his daughter in danger, Arnholt would still need to know beforehand that a spirit dancer had gone crazy and tried to kidnap someone.

  “Absolutely. Well, have fun with that.” He could see Wilsin wanted to head off, wanted to be alone with the brunette whose name still escaped him.

  “Enjoy your night, Dave. See you around.”

  “Count on it, Wade.”

  Book II.

  Evolution

  Chapter Twenty-Seven. Second Round Fixtures.

  “We’re not discussing the changing of it. Not again. It’s not happening. Never. Not while I’m in office. I like it, it stays. If the competitors don’t like it, nobody’s forcing them to enter. End of discussion. Anyone who wants to carry on with it, there’s the door right there. It opens, they can walk through it. Just don’t expect to come back. We won’t miss them.”

  Ronald Ritellia’s trademark diplomacy in reaction to calls to change the ‘Worst Winner’ rule in the Quin-C second round.

  The fifth day of Summerpeak.

  Arnholt was uncharacteristically moody during the meeting the next morning, an uncomfortable void permeating out through the room from where he sat. Nobody present could especially blame him. And nobody wanted to set him off. Nobody wanted to take the brunt of his anger. It would be far too easy for him to suddenly decide to blame someone in the room, most of whom had been at the dance, for not spotting the psychopath in the crowd with the grudge against his daughter. It would have been unreasonable. Nobody wanted to take the chance that it’d be directed against them. It would have been uncomfortable for both parties. The simple argument held that nobody could really have noticed. The counterbalance held up that Wade had reacted the fastest out of all of them.

  The tables had been laid out in a U shape in the middle of the room, Arnholt, Brendan King, Derenko and Noorland sat together along the base of the shape. Wade himself stood in the middle, looking out around those around him, Nick Roper, David Wilsin, Lysa Montgomery, Fank Aldiss, Anne Sullivan, all to one side, Chris Fagan, Pree Khan, Tod Brumley, Will Okocha, Mel Harper and Jacques Leclerc towards the other.

  “I suppose I’d do well to thank Agent Okocha,” Wade said, glancing over to him. “He got in touch with me, gave me a warning to look out for this guy. You all have the report in front of you, island authorities put out an issue on him because of the body in his hotel room. One Maxwell Mikel Brudel, plenty of prior criminal records mainly for theft, some narcotic distribution, some unlicensed possession of a blaster. Never been in jail for long though for one reason or another. Was bailed out just a few weeks ago on this very island in fact.”

  A holoimage flashed up of Brudel on the wall across from them, followed by images of his corpse and the crime scene. The hotel bathroom looked like it had seen better days, the volume of the water damage on the floor had worn all the way through, leaving a massive hole in the ground. “People in the room below complained when the ceiling came through, management forced their way in, found Mr Brudel in the bath. Looked like suicide although why he’d do it in a room that was registered to someone else is open to…”

  “Hey, I know this guy,” Wilsin piped up. “I think… Yeah, I’m sure it’s him. I handed him over to the authorities on the boat over here. He was robbing some people on the boat, I apprehended him. Not sure how he got out of jail, I figured he’d still be in processing.”

  “I remember that,” Nick said. “Vaguely. Small world, eh? So how did he get out of there?”

  The images of Brudel were replaced by those of Harvey Rocastle, three in a row, one of him on the spirit dancing circuit wearing his flamboyant green tuxedo, one an image that looked like it had come from a security recorder, the third of him with a broken nose and arm in a healing cast. “Meet Harvey Rocastle,” Okocha said. “He was the one who the hotel room was registered to. Hence why I put out the call to keep an eye out for him. If he was seen, we could take it from there.”

  “It’s a bit below our remit,” Fank Aldiss said. “Suspected suicides of petty criminals.”

  “And yet, it was a good thing he did,” Anne retorted. “I’d say that was good thinking on Will’s part. Otherwise we’d be on full alert looking for Mia Arnholt.” She bit her lip, looked over at the director as if wondering what reaction it m
ight have brought from him, yet he remained impassive in his silence.

  “Mr Rocastle, you may or may not know his reputation,” Okocha said. “He is a kingdom class spirit dancer, yet the more you dig down into his history, it’s littered with unsavoury outbursts, mainly against women. He’s been warned about his verbal conduct several times on the spirit dancing circuit. Not a pleasant individual. And yet, it is the first time anything like this has truly transpired in relation to him.”

  “Director,” Wilsin said. “Has your daughter ever mentioned him before in passing? Any sort of connection between them?”

  Arnholt shook his head. “Other than a professional rivalry, I don’t think so. They know each other, that’s about it. I don’t know why he’d want to kidnap her.”

  “Who knows why anyone does anything,” Fagan said. “Short of asking him. I assume we’ve tried. Or is he out of our jurisdiction?”

  Wade smiled. “Oh no. See as he attempted to escape, he was caught up by two competitors in the tournament.” The holoimages disappeared to be replaced by ones of Scott Taylor and Peter Jacobs. “He attacked them with his spirit. Aggravated assault atop a kidnap of a spirit dancer. That makes it one of ours. It’s tenuous but we can get him for it. There’s agents waiting to talk to him at first available opportunity. This is a dangerous individual. He managed to defeat these two men at the same time.”

  “I think we’re missing the most important question here,” Tod Brumley said. “Why is a spirit dancer with no known connection to any competitor here out on this island when there’s no reason for him to be here?”

  “Could be for the battling,” Pree offered. “Although I doubt it.”

  “We do have some intelligence in regards of that,” Will said. “I managed to loop into the interview process, got the local authorities to ask Ms Arnholt it when they were getting her side of the story for their records. Just in case. Rocastle told her himself, and I quote ‘he was here on a scouting mission for callers who looked like they need a fresh start’.”