10. Three Against Two
10
Three Against Two
T itan
I’ve never gone into battle distracted before. In life and death combat, you must have your mind right. Right now, though, half my mind is calculating moves, and the other is worrying about Blaze. This will get us both killed.
“You’ve been in combat?” I ask. Our opponents are so close I can see the sweat on their foreheads.
“War. On Earth. My last alien owner named me Slayer for a reason.”
When I glance at her, she’s assessing our enemy. What type of army would allow a small thing like her into combat? Look at her. It’s as if she isn’t aware she should be two feet taller. Every muscle in her face is tight. She looks fierce.
Normally I’d start with the male on the right, then move for the female in the middle, but she’s already pulled a homemade weapon from a makeshift back scabbard. It looks like a scythe.
I’ve never had to fight a female before. Female gladiators are scarce and usually fight each other unless their owners want them dead. Before my abduction, my parents taught me to honor and respect all females, but this one is about to swing at Blaze.
I can’t let that happen. In one mighty swoop, I smash her skull. The nails are still in her brain, and I have to shimmy it loose as I jerk back to avoid the male’s slashing sword.
Pulling my club free just in time, I catch him at the end of his trajectory and swing up from below. A few of my bat’s sharp edges slice swaths in his red skin. Dancing away from him, I swing around in almost a full circle. When my club strikes him again, it’s with enough force to penetrate the nails into his belly all the way to my weapon’s wood.
It will ultimately be a killing blow. I don’t know where his heart is, but I’ve penetrated his vital organs. It will be a slow bleed instead of a quick death unless I was lucky enough to hit a major artery.
Speculation becomes irrelevant because he raises his sword to slash at my neck.
I don’t have time to pry my weapon out of his body, so I leave it sticking in his stomach and by sheer muscle alone, I grab his wrist and break it as he thrusts down with his sword, hoping for a penetrating blow. I grab the hilt of the sword as it drops out of his useless hand. He hasn’t made a single sound.
There’s a moment in a fight when an opponent knows he’s going to die. The eyes and mouth widen. There may be a panicked sound or a grunt. Then one of two things happens. The person gives up and sinks to his knees, or he redoubles his efforts.
This male belongs in the second group, because even with a broken wrist and bleeding from a dozen holes in his side, he lunges at me, aiming for a headbutt.
I’ve got the sword now, so in one smooth move, I sidestep his attack and neatly slice his head from his neck.
Without skipping a beat, I twirl a half step and take off the other male’s head. He was behind Blaze and had disarmed her. He was pressing her metal bat against her own throat and was seconds from choking her with her own weapon.
The whirring of machinery catches my attention as five drones move forward to capture the carnage from every angle.
Blaze is still standing, panting, cradling her neck with one hand and upper arm with the other as she tries to keep it from bleeding.
“If it weren’t for the slave collar, he would have crushed my windpipe,” she croaks. When she sees me inspecting her arm, she tells me, “Just a scratch.”
“Right,” I say as I confirm it’s more than that. “I’m going to tear their clothes into strips to bind your wound. Before I do, are there pieces of clothing you want?”
“Yeah. Put on some pants, Titan. And maybe a shirt. Are you trying to get every female in the galaxy to throw credits at you because of your tight blue ass?”
I chuckle. She’s a hard one.
She’s right, though. I should protect myself from the elements. The blowing sand is shaving my skin off one layer at a time.
A short time later, I’m wearing the bigger male’s pants. They’re tight, but will do. One side of his shirt was shredded, so I use it to tear into strips.
Pulling Blaze close, I tend to her arm as I say, “You did good.”
“Thanks.”
“Next time I tell you to hide in a building, that’s what you need to do.”
When she avoids my gaze, I cup her chin in my hand to make sure she’s looking at me. “I mean it. You would have died if I hadn’t gotten to you in time.” My guts are squeezing in fear, a delayed reaction to what would have happened if I’d lost her.
“Thanks for getting to me in time.” Her eyes flick to the messy pile of body parts. “Think any of them had any food on them?”
Blaze
Dear God, that was terrifying. And look how cool I’m acting, as if rummaging through a pile of decapitated bodies is a walk in the park. I’m staying busy. I don’t want him to see how badly my hands are shaking.
Although I really didn’t think I’d find any food, looky here, somebody was a hoarder. The woman had two nutrition bars hidden in her pockets.
“Hungry?” I toss one to Titan as I unwrap the other. As I’m eating, I remove the shirt from the female and put it on since I’ve been using mine to protect my head and face from the sun and blowing sand. Titan has fashioned a similar rigging with the ripped-up pants from the male I was fighting.
He retrieves the spiked bat, then exchanges our steel rods for the weapons our attackers were using. He wipes the nails and blades through the sand, scouring the blood and flesh from them. At least all this sand is good for something.
All five drones are still hanging around, their red eyes unblinking, their cameras never veering too far from the action.
Catching the writing on a few of the screens, I investigate the stats while I play it cool.
They’re now rating Titan number 1 out of 28 on the tote board. I’m still in last place.
Holy shit. It looks like I’m at the top of the list for pledged credits. I have over ten thousand next to my name. Titan has over three thousand. Isn’t it noon by now? That’s when the AI said we’d be able to buy something.
My arm is throbbing, my throat is chafed, and the suns are pounding down on us. The local insect world got word there’s a free buffet out here because buzzy things are swarming what’s left of our new friends and occasionally dive-bombing the dried blood now splattered all over us.
“Let’s blow this popstand,” I say. Just as I turn, out of the corner of my eye, I see “laser rifle 6,000 credits” on the menu of things we can buy.
I may be shit at hand-to-hand—I’d be dead if Titan hadn’t just saved my ass—but put a rifle in my hands and I can dish out a world of hurt. Once they see what I can do with a long-distance weapon, I won’t be in last place.
For the first time since this started, I believe we really could be the last two standing. He’s a force to be reckoned with due to sheer size and talent, and I’ll be able to put all my sniper abilities to work.
What will happen if it comes down to two—us two—and then it must come Down. To. One?