The Bloodlust: (Volume Three of the Virion Series)

by R. L. M. Sanchez

  MARTIAN VERSUS REVENTE

  The crowd was at its loudest now as the surprise announcement made the masses shiver in excitement, leaving McKenna in confusion. The ground in the middle of the arena began to rumble as a large opening appeared from the clockwork of pits beneath. A small cage rose from below, a lone Auroran female with her back to McKenna emerged. Her clothing was battered and she was scuffed and dirtied.

  McKenna felt fear set in. He was trained by the best human military history had known, but he was a mere human. No match for the genetically superior Revente.

  “It's time to see the Aurorans stamp out the Martians! Let the Battle of Cardinal Fortune be seen again!”

  The crowd booed at the Auroran, either some disliked the fact that the Martian was pitted against an unbeatable foe or they just disliked the Revente. McKenna quickly scanned for more weapons, all melee weapons, but he knew it would be no use. The cage unlocked and the Auroran stood up and turned around. McKenna got a clear look at her face. She exited the cage before it lowered back into the ground. McKenna's world grew silent as he looked into the violet irises of the Revente. Her outfit looked hashed together by a Wargame tailor. Scraps of armor plates and leather straps formed a crude breastplate that protected her upper torso while leaving her well-toned midriff exposed and leggings with even more of the same armor plates from her hips to her ankles, all complete with a leather skirt that flared outwards.

  “U'ldanta…” McKenna could hardly believe what he heard from himself. After viewing the security footage from High Science for so long, he never forgot her face, her violet eyes; she was unmistakable. She looked closely into his eyes, returning the favor. She pivoted her foot back and raised her hands in sharp angles before her, a posture of deadly Revente martial arts.

  She wasted no time and leaped forward at cheetah speed. McKenna dived out of the way, ungracefully at that, and slammed into the ground. U'ldanta quickly turned to him with anger but he quickly picked himself up.

  “Doctor U'ldanta, I'm CMS!” McKenna shouted. “I'm with the Council!” Her stern gaze broke for a moment as she calculated.

  She stepped forward, still ready to strike, while the crowd was still cheering constantly, never seeing a deathmatch between human and Revente. She sent a couple of high kicks at McKenna's chest and head. The attacks were so smooth and quick that McKenna missed the strikes just barely, so much so that he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with another attack. She then leaped up and sent a variation of a butterfly kick coming down. McKenna fell backwards to avoid it.

  “Doctor, don't do this!” McKenna shouted as he quickly scurried to his feet. McKenna sprang back up, panting heavily. He began to wonder where her true allegiances were, but he knew it couldn't have been with the Golden Bough. Judging by her appearance and her position in The Games, she didn't seem to be there by choice.

  “Reward this crowd, Marshal,” she hissed. “These humans want death. It's you or me! I won't have another dagger in my back!”

  She dashed forward and sent a spinning roundhouse kick from the left. It was done with laser precision. McKenna brought his arms up, forming his best defensive block in a desperate attempt to stop the attack. He twisted his body away from the attack in attempts to soften the blow while the kick met his forearms, barely managing to stop the kick in its tracks. He felt his forearms and shoulder throbbing in pain almost instantly and, with just a few more pounds of pressure, the kick would have snapped his arms.

  She held her form, in shock that a human managed to stop the kick. The crowd in the stadium grew whisper silent as they saw the unbelievable defense from the human, as only a Martian could do. McKenna grunted in pain as he held the defense up. He practically wanted to collapse.

  “Doctor,” he grunted, “I was sent to the undercity to neutralize the Golden Bough, and to find you. I have to know whose side you're on.”

  U’ldanta returned her leg and stepped back quickly. McKenna let out a massive breath as he shook out his arms.

  “My own,” she said. “And you, Marshal? Whose side are you on?”

  “What? The Council, I told you. I have the support of a new Interpol unit. We're after The Commander. It's why I've entered The Games, to win the information cache so I can find him.” McKenna saw her light blue face go pale, for the sound of The Commander’s name had her grim. “Doctor, have you seen The Commander? Do you know where the Golden Bough is operating out of—?” U’ldanta brushed past McKenna in haste with a clear objective before stopping to look around the arena.

  “Marshal, we have to get out of here now. It's not safe.”

  “Oh, really? And what about—”

  “I'll tell you everything I know,” she said as she spun around to him, “but you have to get me out of here! Wargame stuck me in this place, not knowing who I really was. If his men find out—”

  “Okay, okay! I don't know if you noticed, but we're kind of in the middle of a deathmatch.” As if on cue, the announcer's voice filled the arena.

  “Well, this sure is odd, everyone! It looks as if the Auroran and the Martian have settled their differences! Well, the histories have left this part vague. I'm actually not too so sure what happens now!” McKenna looked at the four possible exits, all gated, sealed, and guarded by rifles and hard light shields.

  “They're not going to let us leave if we don't fight,” McKenna said. “And I’m not fighting you.”

  “A fight with a human is no fight at all.” She was cold, but it was true. She could have killed him with one strike but McKenna had a suspicion she held back if not for a moment. “The show already isn't according to schedule, I'm sure they'll improvise.”

  “Well, people, I think this starts a new chapter in history! The Martians have allied themselves with our friendly neighborhood aliens, the Aurorans! Who is left to stop them? Well, the mightiest of Earth, of course! I give you once more, the Earth Marines!” Suddenly all four gates opened and five contestants emerged from each, late-addition volunteer gang members with Wargame. With the gates closing behind them, the twenty contestants all encircled the pair, waiting for the buzzer. McKenna put his back to U’ldanta’s as the opponents began making threatening gestures and poses. McKenna saw the odds were against them, but he had an Auroran at his back.

  “So, a doctor that can fight, huh?” McKenna said, keeping his eyes on his opponents. “Or I guess this isn’t a fight for you.”

  “Huh?” she grunted. “Oh, well, an Auroran female's got to do what an Auroran female's got to do. I think you humans say something like that, right?”

  “Sure. Is that your first time saying it?” The arena's buzzer blared and in came the storm of bloodthirsty contestants.

  Dill turned around to Speakeasy in anxiety after seeing every jaw-dropping moment down below.

  “I don't bloody believe this! Speak, get them the hell out of there!” Kimmy turned around to Speakeasy to see him frantically typing in his OPIaA. He adjusted his glasses as they kept falling from the bridge of his nose. “Speak, they're not going to stop until they kill them!” Speakeasy was letting the distress get to him. Kimmy grabbed his shoulders softly and looked at him in the eyes.

  “Speaky, can McKenna forfeit? With the doctor?” she asked.

  “Kimmy, I don't think it's possible right now. It's The Red Fields! He's a contender but—”

  “Speakeasy, you're a goddamn broker, think of a way!” Dill shouted.

  “Maybe. That Auroran isn't a contender, but an obstacle. I think I can try to buy her out! Maybe!” Dill was angered by the solution, but he knew the doctor was an unexpected opportunity that had to be seized immediately.

  “Do it,” Dill said.

  “Okay, we have to see the Gamemaster. All of you come with me!” Speakeasy scurried out of the room to the pits below to seek some sort of a bargain. Dill and the others followed shortly behind.

  “Much unfortunate,” Humphries said. “Front row tickets to the slaughter of the century and we have to change seats!” />
  Lindsey walked into the security room where his other subordinates were monitoring the games. The security room had dozens upon dozens of holoscreens and terminals with every angle of The Red Sector Games, but Lindsey was focused on just one, the arena.

  “Why won’t this man just simply die?” Lindsey said to the others in the room. “He's no ordinary Martian, and who the hell is that Auroran?”

  “I don't know about the Auroran, an unknown,” one of the security members said. “One of Wargame's donations to the Gamemaster and he decided to use her for an obstacle this year. As for the Martian, we've dug up some more info. He's the survivor from Cardinal Fortune.” Lindsey smirked when he heard the news.

  “So, he knows a thing or two about survival. But that damn Gamemaster should tell me when he makes a move like this. It's all completely off script.”

  “The crowd is giving into this on a whole other level, they're going insane. Bets, concessions, viewers, it's all skyrocketing. The Gamemaster has already rearranged the last two evolutions depending on this outcome.”

  “Must I remind you losers, this is a member of Kimmy's team! Hasker ordered us to kill him or take them out of these games! I say we throw everything we have at this bastard until he's dead!” The security team all turned around and stared at Lindsey in irritation at the privileged Wordhunter.

  “Hasker ordered you to kill him, Lindsey and he’s leading the points. We can outweigh his odds, but the Lost owns this match now. It's too late, Lindsey.” Lindsey began to boil as he stared at the monitor viewing the arena. While he was furious at his subordinate's answer, he was right. The whole undercity was watching the Martian now and to kill him prematurely would have the city in an uproar.

  McKenna threw another attacker to the ground, slamming him with force and stunning him. As he turned, he quickly threw another over his body. He glanced to his right to see the Auroran making short work of the others with little effort. Each of her attacks was done with precision and each a killing blow at that. Her punches were strong enough to stop their hearts and her kicks were accurate enough to just barely snap the spinal cords.

  He saw another attacker come to his left with a knife, but he quickly sidestepped and grabbed his wrist while twisting it and knocking the knife away. McKenna shoved the attacker face first into the ground, knocking him unconscious.

  He brought his attention to another ganger with a club. He caught the man’s wrist, disarmed him, sent a flurry of punches to the body, and a final backhand to his face, knocking him out. Before the body even tumbled to the ground, another body slammed into it, both bodies rolling in the dirt and to a halt. McKenna looked over to see U’ldanta with her palm forward and her knees bent. The power punch was effortless as she regained her stance.

  All the attackers were either dead or writhing on the ground. McKenna didn't even hear the crowd anymore, already growing used to their constant cheering. U’ldanta looked to one of the gates behind her.

  “Friends?” she asked. He looked toward the gate to see his team all flagging him down.

  “Yeah.” He was glad to see them after the brutal battles. They both ran to the gate to greet them while the announcer overhead did his routine. U’ldanta grew nervous in the presence of McKenna's team. A lack of trust made her keep her distance.

  “Alan!” Kimmy shouted. McKenna looked at the clear, hard light shield in front of him, not seeing a way past it.

  “Kimmy, you can't shut these things off?”

  “Well, I could, probably, but then we'd have to figure out how to escape hundreds of Hasker’s men as well as patrons that you cheated out of their bets.”

  McKenna looked behind Kimmy to see Dill in good health, despite what he heard from Titus earlier.

  “Dill, you're okay?” McKenna asked, wondering the details of the race but Dill only gave a simple nod. “I heard the race didn't go as planned…”

  “I screwed up, fair and simple, but right now we have to get you out, the doctor as well. Christ, I still can't believe the doctor is alive.”

  “And who are you?” U’ldanta asked.

  “Sergeant Dillon Roberts of Interpol’s Infected Strains Task Force, Your Excellency.” Speakeasy stepped forward and looked up at McKenna with distress.

  “McKenna, we can't get you out. I've spoken with the Gamemaster and he simply won't allow it. But I was able to barter for the Auroran, provided she survives the next evolution.”

  McKenna ran his hands over his face, but he quickly lowered them only to see blood come off them. The sand was soaked in it, but his cosmetic appearance was already weathered and soiled. He could keep going, he knew he could.

  “And me?” McKenna asked.

  “One more match after that, the grand finale,” Speakeasy said. “If you can best your opponent, you've won The Red Sector Games.” McKenna looked to U'ldanta who gave a simple nod back. “McKenna, I'm sorry,” Speakeasy said. He looked to his team, all of them with worry on their faces. It uplifted his spirit knowing his team cared for him to any sort of degree. It was obvious to Mckenna that Kimmy was perhaps the most worried.

  “I'll be fine, Speakeasy, but thank you for negotiating for the doctor. She's what matters most right now, none of you forget that.” U’ldanta looked at McKenna in surprise. She knew for certain she had misjudged him. As he turned to head back out to the arena, he saw Humphries squinting.

  “Humphries?” McKenna said.

  “Say the word, and I’ll see just how squishy these squishies are, Master,” Humphries said, squinting his eyes. McKenna cleared his throat awkwardly and walked with U’ldanta to the middle of the arena. He noticed she kept looking at him.

  “Something the matter?” he said.

  “I apologize,” she said, “for attacking you.”

  “Oh, well, don't worry about it. I barely felt a thing,” McKenna smirked.

  “I promise I'll help you but know that there has been no one down here that I have been able to trust for over two weeks. As a Revente, I'm a target for racists, a bounty for gangers, a refugee on a foreign land, and the Golden Bough have been hunting me down since I got away.”

  “So, you did escape?”

  “Barely, but it wasn't long before I got careless. I had sent out a message once I did, but one of Wargame's parties were able to track me down because of it. Thankfully, they thought I was just a simple Auroran in the wrong place at the wrong time. With their allegiance to the Golden Bough, I was sure I was finished, but their leadership is rocky at best. So, instead of executing me, they put me up as a game obstacle.”

  “Doctor, I want you to know that I have every full intention of getting you out of here.”

  “And why is that? No racial bigotries to get in the way?”

  “No, it has nothing to do with that. It's my mission and I'm going to see it done.”

  “A methodical man. Uncommon on this planet.”

  “The anticipation is over. The next evolution has been decided by our crafty Gamemaster!” Spunkmeyer broke the silence as usual. “And it's an old favorite. But to do this we need to go to the decaying cities of New Jericho!”

  The ground began rumbling beneath McKenna's feet. He looked a short distance ahead to see the floor collapsing in and soon the entire arena floor began to shapeshift.

  “By the Spirit…!” U’ldanta gasped.

  “Move!” he shouted.

  They broke into a full sprint to the other side of the arena to outrun the collapsing floor. The red dirt that covered the surface slipped into crevices below, into the intricate clockwork of shifting pieces. Several decaying buildings of varying shapes and heights began to emerge, as well several other obstructions, until a small city was recognizable. McKenna stopped to turn and see the artificial city of New Jericho poorly represented in front of him. It was a mazework of bombed-out buildings and city streets, a ghost town. The arena had stopped evolving.

  “And there it is, people. New Jericho! Once a city that attracted all from its glint from afar
and its beauty within. Alexander the Great and even Jesus of Nazareth have been attracted by its wonder, but so have the eyes of war! Ravaged since time could be recorded: Joshua, the Turks, the British, the Israelites, The Devils of the Gold Sand, the Broken Sun, the list goes on! But here on this desolate city block, I bring you a legendary battle that is written in gold ink in the histories. The year is 2234, the War of the Lost Tribes. In the largest nation of hostile and savage tribes of the wastelands, one sniper-spotter team hunts down only the highest-ranking officers in the Earth Federation Military. So, the Federation sends in their own ace snipers to take them down. With that, who will win? The Federation or the snipers of the Reapers of Cyprus?!”

  The buzzer blared overhead and the crowd quieted and disappeared from view as the viewing glass turned a smoky grey, completely obscuring them from view from the inside. But, unknown to McKenna, it was one way and the crowd was watching every second.

  “A sniping arena?” she said. McKenna was already scanning every possible vantage and window possible but there were dozens upon dozens with a few buildings being over ten stories tall, almost to the arena ceiling.

  He looked above to see a glint coming down from the ceiling. Soon it was revealed to be a small pod of some sort, no longer than five feet.

  “Cover, Doctor, now!” McKenna said. She ran to the nearest piece of concrete. The pod struck the ground right next to McKenna and a side panel ejected off shortly after. He approached it and saw a rifle placed neatly inside. He picked it up and inspected it closely.

  “Monolith 135, bolt action, four power optic,” he said. He pulled out the magazine and frowned. “Five rounds…” He sighed.

  “Is that enough?” she whispered. McKenna chambered a round into the rifle and readied it against his shoulder.

  “It's going to have to be.” He ducked low and moved next to her to peek over the obstacle. There was little to no open ground anymore, just a cluster of tight alleys and tall buildings, each with vent openings, windows, cracks in concrete, rooftops, rubble. It was a sniper’s dream.