Roman groaned. His hand was shaking. The voice in the back of his mind screamed to throw the needle away. Nothing good ever came from activating an Adrenalite.
“Um… I don’t want to rush you or anything but…”
Burrstone approached. He walked slowly, confident in his victory. His blue glow made the air around him shimmer.
Nothing for it. Roman jabbed the needle into Sparks forearm and pressed down on the plunger. The boy’s chest began to glow. It was a darker, richer tone than Burrstone’s, pulsing with wild, frantic flashes. Sparks jumped to his feet.
“Hey poppet!” the boy yelled. “Why don’t we let these old geezers have a rest while we have ourselves a real fight?”
Burrstone paused mid-step, confused. “You’re with them? An Adrenalite working for the ministry?”
“Fuck no. I’m a freelancer, bitch.”
Roman reached underneath him, feeling the reassuring grip of his revolver. Five shots left. More than enough to take them both down. If they were distracted.
“You’re a traitor!” Burrstone yelled.
Sparks bounced on the balls of his feet, arms swinging in erratic motion. “I’m a fighter. And the best one in this city. Here, let me show you.”
“You’re just a dog.”
Sparks snickered. “Oh, you have no idea.” He leapt at Burrstone, crossing the gap in an instant.
The two became a blur, a glowing mass of fists and feet. Burrstone stood his ground, blocking blow after blow as Sparks danced around him, laughing, throwing punches too fast to count. As one fist struck the other was already preparing a follow-up attack, yet he never left himself vulnerable for counter-attacks. Sparks flipped in the air, one fist swinging while his other arm blocked. Burrstone went to grab a flailing leg, but Sparks was too fast and pulled back at the last moment.
Roman watched with begrudging awe. Damn, he’s good. Even better than I remember. Sparks’ movements looked risky, even random, but there was a pattern beneath the madness. Roman couldn’t figure it out, but he sensed it. This was a dance Sparks had perfected. This was his art.
Burrstone was on the defensive, arms raised in front of him like shields. He retreated one step, then two steps. A kick from Spark caught him in the hip and he stumbled. He was becoming desperate. It was only a matter of time before he would be goaded into attacking.
With a cry of frustration, Burrstone swung a right hook, using his entire body for momentum. Sparks disappeared in a blur, ducking to the side of Burrstone. He whooped in victory.
Roman didn’t see the blow. He only heard the crunch and saw Burrstone soar across the room, crashing into a table and breaking it in half. Two men who had been cowering behind it screamed and jumped aside, scrambling for cover further away.
Sparks laughed. “Is that all you’ve got? You’re the one who’s a disgrace.”
Burrstone scrambled to his feet as Sparks charged again.
A glint of metal a couple yards in front of Roman — his defoxican needle. Caught beneath a chair, but not crushed. He crawled forward and seized it. There was enough in it to deactivate both of them if he could only get close enough.
Tan sat at the top of the stairs, silently observing the fight. Caleb had got to his feet and leaned against the bar, breathing heavily. It was strange for Roman to see his team do nothing but watch, but what else could they do? This was a fight for monsters. Not men.
Another crunch. Burrstone crashed into the middle of the hall, blood pouring from his shoulder, nose, and ears. He landed only two steps from Roman, stunned. Roman jumped forward. He drove his defoxican needle forward—
Burrstone caught him by the wrist. The Adrenalite gave a cruel smile while his other hand lashed out and grabbed Roman by the throat, inhuman strength tightening around his windpipe.
Roman tried to pull away, but the grip was too strong. Fire burnt in his throat. Burrstone’s face swam in his vision.
An arrow suddenly tore into the arm holding Romans wrists, straight through the bicep. Burrstone screamed.
Roman swung his free hand onto his right and pushed down with the last of his strength. Burrstone’s arm folded and the defoxican needle buried itself in his glowing chest. The blue lines which extended halfway down Burrstone’s arms began to retreat into the centre glow. The grip around Roman’s neck loosened and he pulled himself free.
One down, now onto—
Sparks stood over him. “Why’d you go and ruin the fun, old man?”
Roman stared into the boy’s dark green eyes, the reflection from his chest’s radiance made them shine. Blood dripped off the boy’s fists. Seeing Sparks so close, after seeing the quick violence he was capable of, Roman panicked. He imagined Sparks attacking him, or, even worse, attacking Tan, Caleb or Ruby.
Instinct took over, and Roman reached for his revolver.
Of course, it wasn’t there.
The hulking form of Caleb rose up behind Sparks, a needle held in one hand. He injected the defoxican into the boy’s shoulder. Sparks didn’t react. The glow from his chest began to fade with each pulse. Roman’s breath slowly steadied and his panic receded. Sparks’ eyes never left Roman, but his expression was unreadable – was he angry? Upset?
Was he aware that Roman had been about to kill him?
Roman hoped not.
He turned away, unable to hold the boy’s gaze. Beneath him, Burrstone rolled on the ground, moaning. A pool of blood rapidly spread beneath him. He coughed and reached for the arrow in his arm, pulling it out with a scream.
“Whoa there mate.” Tan appeared beside him, pulling off his shirt and wrapping it around the gaping hole in Burrstone’s arm. “You’re a lot less valuable to us if you bleed to death.”
Ruby walked down the stairs in front of them, her bow slung across her shoulders, quiver hanging from her hips. Roman smiled. “Thanks,” he managed to croak from his aching throat.
“If you ever do something so reckless again, I’ll grant your death wish and just shoot you instead.”
“You weren’t too far from it this time.”
“I never miss, remember?”
“You…” Burrstone moaned. He pointed the blood-stained arrow towards Roman, who eyed it warily, but Burrstone’s reach was nowhere near enough to threaten him. “… I wish I could be there to watch when Candle kills you.”
Roman blinked. “Candle?”
Burrstone coughed up blood. “Death to the Captain. Death to the Ministry. Death before defeat.”
Burrstone spun the arrow around and pulled it into his own chest, straight to this heart. Blood sprayed. Someone screamed. And Burrstone died.
Roman stared, stunned. An Adrenalite had never killed themselves before, so why now?
And who the hell was Candle?
Death to the Captain…
The Captain. Juliette. The most powerful woman in Legacy, and, in Roman’s honest opinion, a complete piece of shit. She was the last person he wanted to see.
But he wanted answers, and one thing was for sure: he wasn’t getting any from Burrstone.
03
Dawn was breaking as Roman marched through the crowded streets, Tan and Ruby just behind him. The growing light did nothing to brighten his mood — the weight in his chest grew with each step towards Reformation Square. He considered his options for getting an audience with Juliette. He could ask politely, he supposed, but what were the chances of that working? Not fucking likely, he reckoned. His best option would be to get to her, without consent, and demand she answer his questions.
Skyscrapers loomed above, cutting giant shadows in the morning sunlight. These were the temples of the Ancients. Banks. Hotels. Offices. Little remained now but steel skeletons. I wonder which will last the longest, Roman wondered, humanity, or the towers?