April 15, 2021. 04:25. Vancouver.
"MOVE!" I shove Remi aside just as Blake barrels forward. He tumbles left; I dive right.
The ground quakes as a half-ton of cybernetics charges, fists carving through the air with a metallic whoomph.
Over the chaos, the MC's voice booms.
"Ohhhh, what a dodge! Lily and Remi showing some serious reflexes out there!"
The crowd erupts—half laughing, half screaming. Someone jeers, "C'mon, Blake! What are you doing?" Another group starts chanting our names. The whole arena vibrates with noise.
Blake skids to a halt and sand sprays up in all directions. He straightens, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "That's it? Where's all that bravado? Hope you're better at thinking on your feet—you're gonna need it."
I scowl and edge backward, eyes locked on him. "Yeah, give us a sec," I shoot back, dripping sarcasm.
Remi cracks his neck and starts circling to Blake's flank, eyes locked on his massive frame. He's trying for stealth—except there's no cover.
Blake's gaze flicks sideways, catching the movement. His lips curl into a grin.
"You'll have to try harder than that!" he bellows, whipping one padded arm around in a brutal arc.
A sickening thud echoes as the hit lands, sending Remi sprawling sideways into the sand with a heavy grunt.
Noise explodes around me—cheers tangled with winces.
"OHHH! That's gotta hurt!" the MC yells. "Twenty seconds in, and Remi's already eating sand, folks!"
"Remi, what the hell?!" My jaw drops.
He groans, rolling onto his side. "Oh, fuck…" He coughs, then staggers up on shaky legs. "Aight… warm-up's over, bro."
Blake stands tall, grinning, fists on his hips. "Take five, rockerboy. I'll give you two a moment to—"
No time to think—I push forward and leap onto his back.
Blake barks a laugh, swinging an arm behind him. "Oh?"
I cling tight, shifting and twisting as he tries to grab me. Every time his massive hands close in, I slip just out of reach, crawling across his shoulders like a shadow.
He almost tears me off twice, but I hold on. Then I lock my arm around his neck, tightening in a chokehold.
Nothing happens. His armor plating absorbs the pressure like I'm hugging a steel beam. Damn it—should've known.
Blake lurches, trying to throw me off. I kick away, flipping off his back and landing hard in the sand.
The crowd roars. I sprint toward Remi, who's still coughing but upright. "Alright, tough guy—we need to move!"
Remi nods, wiping blood from his lip. He points toward a half-collapsed wall of stone and rebar. "There!"
"Alright, start running!"
We bolt toward the makeshift building. Behind us, Blake trudges forward—slow, and utterly amused. Must be nice being the boss battle, huh?
Every step he takes hits like an earthquake. Part of me instantly regrets signing up for this. The other part knows if I hadn't, Remi would've been facing him alone—and I'd have nothing to show for it.
Blake's voice booms after us. "You think hiding in a corner's gonna save you? Come on, show me something real!"
I growl under my breath, biting my lip. Pride simmers beneath the panic. If I just had my armoury—Azure and Shock especially—this would've been a joke. But no. It's just me, Remi, and a psychopath with steel fists.
We duck behind the cracked wall.
"I don't know how long Blake plans on giving us mercy," I say, scanning the debris around us—broken cars, stone chunks, scattered junk. "But we need to make this count. Direct combat's suicide. He's fast, but he's still just a padded bulldozer. We need precision."
Remi wheezes, bracing himself against the wall. "So what's the play?"
My eyes dart across the wreckage—then land on a four-door red sedan. "That car. We'll use it."
"What?! You're insane! What if it doesn't even have a key?"
"Trust me, they don't leave props around for nothing. It's probably rigged." I shove Remi toward it. "Get it running and ram him. I'll keep him busy."
He hesitates. "This is a terrible idea."
"Just do it!"
I sprint back out as Blake rounds the corner, red optics flaring. He licks his lips. "Hope you've got a plan!"
His massive fist comes down like a hammer. I duck, sand spraying up as I roll aside.
"Don't hold back!" he bellows. "The crowd gets bored easily!"
Sand sticks to my hair. My heart slams in my chest, but my eyes lock on his.
Oh, trust me, I won't.
Another mechanical kick whistles toward me. I drop and roll behind him, hugging his blind spot. Then I leap, wrapping myself around his chest. My hoodie flies off as I yank it up and over his head.
Blake bursts out laughing, thrashing blindly as I start throwing punches into his face. For once, I feel flesh instead of armor. Finally, something!
"YES! This is what we wanted!" he bellows, voice muffled through the fabric. How the hell is he enjoying this?!
"Yeah, it looks good on you!" I snap, tightening the hoodie like reins and slamming my fist into his temple again and again. Each blow makes him stumble, his footing starting to give.
Then—a new sound cuts through the chaos. An engine.
Gasps ripple through the crowd as Remi barrels forward behind the wheel of the red sedan, pale-faced but determined.
"MOOOOVE, CHOOM!" he screams.
I leap away an instant before the impact.
Metal screams as the car slams into Blake, driving him straight into the stadium wall. The collision echoes like a cannon. I hit the sand hard, rolling through grit and pain, spitting dust from my mouth as my arms scream in protest.
Roars burst from the stands—some chanting my name, others screaming in disbelief.
Over the noise, the MC nearly blows out his mic. "ARE YOU SEEING THIS?! THEY JUST RAMMED BLAKE INTO A WALL! THIS IS PURE INSANITY!"
For a heartbeat, everything goes still.
Laughter breaks it—Blake's, low and ragged. The car shudders as he starts pushing it off himself. Metal groans. Tires squeal against the sand.
The MC's voice cracks. "Wait—he's lifting the car?!"
Blake doesn't just lift it—he heaves it. One-handed. The crowd gasps as he tosses the sedan across the arena like a toy. Remi dives out just in time, crashing into the sand and clutching his arm.
I stagger to my feet, chest heaving, watching Blake rip the hoodie from his head.
If this weren't just an exhibition, we'd be dead.
His face is a brutal mess of blood and sweat—but he's still grinning.
A swipe across his mouth, a laugh follows. "What's next?"
The crowd detonates into chaos as the MC howls into the mic. "One minute and twenty seconds left! Lily and Remi are putting on a show, folks! Can they actually pull this off?!"
I drag myself up, body screaming in protest. Every nerve burns, every bruise throbs. Across the arena, Blake stands tall—his face a bloodied mess, his grin still wide and manic.
"Feeling the fun yet?" I call out, smirking despite the ache.
Remi collapses nearby, wheezing for air. "Choom… holy shit. Give me a sec."
Dropping beside him, I grab his arm and force him upright. His whole body trembles—spasms running down his arms. I scan him quickly, noting the swelling and the shallow breathing. "You're not okay. That hit rattled you bad."
He shakes his head. "Nah, I'm fine. What's the plan now? The car's toast."
"Dude, you're not fine." My eyes dart around until they land on a half-collapsed stone structure. "Hide under that rubble. I'll keep him busy."
Remi protests weakly. "That's a gonk-ass plan. What if he crushes you?"
The thought of using him as a distraction flashes across my mind—but no. I'm not endangering him any further. Not for this.
"Then you win by default. Congrats," I snap, dragging him toward the debris. "Just stay down."
Blake watches, amused. He glances at the MC, then back at me. "Got another plan, or are we improvising again?"
I face him, fists clenched. The caffeine in my system is barely keeping me upright, but adrenaline's doing the rest. "I got plenty."
The crowd's roar builds to a fever pitch. The MC's voice booms over the noise:
"WHOA, folks, this is it! Lily versus Blake! No tricks, no backup—one-on-one! Is Remi down for good?!"
Blake wipes the blood from his nose, still smiling. "Please tell me Remi's alive, at least."
"Sixty seconds left!" the MC shouts. "Can Lily survive—or will Blake finish her for good?!"
I step forward, but my legs betray me, trembling under the strain. Shit! My knees hit the sand. My lungs feel like fire. "Ugh…" I gasp, clutching at the pain. Sixty seconds left… come on. Move. MOVE!
Blake strides closer, shaking his head in mock pity. "Guess you weren't cut out for this after all."
He launches forward, fist cocked back. I twist, but not fast enough. The padded edge of his glove clips my ribs. Pain detonates across my side as I'm launched into the sand.
NO—I'm not losing like this!
The crowd goes wild, some screaming, others cheering.
"Lily's down!" the MC yells. "But is she out?!"
My body twitches in the sand. I force my hands beneath me, push up—every muscle screaming. I'm still in it.
Blake strolls toward me, his shadow swallowing me whole. "You put up a good fight," he says, raising his foot over me. "But this is where it ends."
I roll aside just in time. His stomp hits like a thunderclap, spraying sand over my face. I scramble up, but he grabs my arm mid-motion.
"No—"
He yanks me off the ground like I weigh nothing and slams me down. Air explodes from my lungs. Pain radiates through my entire body. Then comes the pop—the unmistakable crack of dislocation.
I can't even scream. Just a choked gasp.
Chaos hits again. The MC's voice breaks with excitement.
"LILY IS TAKING A BEATING! CAN SHE EVEN STAND AFTER THAT?!"
Blake drops me and turns to the audience, raising his arms. "Is this the best they've got?! Aren't you all disappointed?!"
A wall of sound slams back—half cheering, half furious.
For half a second, I see it: a flicker of concern in Blake's eyes. Then it's gone. He notices I'm still moving.
I groan, clutching my useless arm. "Damn it…" The pain's white-hot—but I've dealt with worse.
Knee in the sand, jaw clenched, forearm braced on thigh. I take a breath. "One… two—"
With a brutal shove, my shoulder snaps back into place.
Agony spikes through me, chased by dizzy relief. "FUCK!" I gasp for air, my breath ragged. The joint is back in place, though I know it's still weak.
All eyes lock on me. I flex my fingers, testing for sharp pain. Nothing but dull throbs and fading nausea. Good enough. I roll my neck, shake out my good arm, and glare up at Blake, teeth bared.
"That all you got?"
The crowd goes full feral, chanting for me to keep going.
What shocks everyone—including me—is the sudden shift in the nearby rubble.
Remi bursts free, coughing, clutching a jagged chunk of debris. His eyes lock on mine. Don't you dare.
I glare back, pure disbelief twisting through me.
He just grins. "Ey, boss man! My turn, choom!"
The chunk of debris comes down hard against a stone slab—metallic clang echoing through the arena like a war drum.
Absolute pandemonium erupts—sound slamming through the stadium until I swear my hearing's about to give out.
The MC's voice cracks through the noise.
"Remi's back! He's not done yet!"
Blake turns, smirking, eyes burning bright. "You two've got guts. I respect that."
You know what? Screw it. This is perfect.
While he's distracted, I bolt. My legs scream, but I push through. I spot another car and dive inside, slamming the door. The key's sitting right on the dash—thank God.
The engine roars to life. I rest my forehead against the wheel for half a second, breathing hard. "C'mon, girl. Don't die on me now."
The MC bellows, "We're down to the final seconds—and it's anyone's game!" The crowd's a wall of sound.
Blake pivots toward me just as Remi charges with a shout, diving for his legs. He climbs like a madman, swinging his makeshift pipe at anything he can reach while Blake laughs and swats at him—but Remi clings tight, hammering blow after blow into his shoulders and neck.
I slam my foot down. The car lunges forward. Blake raises one arm, catching the hood with a metallic clang. His other arm flails, trying to dislodge Remi.
The strain shows. His footing slips. The tires scream against the sand. The car tilts, fighting against him.
"C'MON!" I shout, slapping the steering wheel.
"TEN SECONDS!" the MC howls.
The arena is pure chaos.
Remi scrambles onto Blake's back, swinging the pipe with everything he's got. The blows glance off padded armor, but each one creeps closer to Blake's head.
"Alright—playtime's over," Blake smirks, swatting him aside. Remi slams into a nearby wall, coughing, groaning. But his focus breaks—just for a heartbeat, his weight shifts. And that's all I need.
"FIVE SECONDS!" the MC screams.
I gun it.
The car slams into Blake's side, pushing him back. The impact rattles my bones. Blake stumbles, his balance gone, his body twisting awkwardly as I pin him into a pile of stone.
The crowd loses its mind.
"THREE SECONDS!"
Blake tries to pivot, but his footing fails. He falls—crashing hard into the sand as I press forward, smoke billowing around us.
I scream, driving the car harder, the steering wheel creaking beneath my grip. "YEEESSSSSSS!"
The smoke thickens—grey swallowing red and gold light. Then I see it: a glow cutting through the haze.
No.
A red, mechanical glow. The car begins to lift.
"NO, NO, NO—"
The horn blares, slicing through the noise.
"TIME'S UP!" the MC bellows. "IT'S OVER!"
Everything slows. My heart thunders in my ears, but I barely register his words. Is it over?
Blake's laughter booms from within the smoke. He gently sets the car back down. The haze clears, revealing his battered, blood-smeared face—still smiling.
"Damn, Lily," he says, shaking his head. "Not bad."
"WHAT A FIGHT!" the MC roars. "Lily and Remi didn't take Blake down—but they did what few ever do: they survived! Give it up for these legends!"
Chaos erupts in the stands—our names echoing off every wall.
Medics rush in, weaving through the wreckage. Blake waves to the crowd like a gladiator, face wrecked but radiant. He kneels beside Remi, clapping him on the shoulder. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."
Remi manages a cracked smile. His voice is barely a rasp. "You hit like a truck, dawg."
Blake chuckles. "And you're a damn tank. Welcome to the family."
I stumble out of the car, every muscle trembling. The medics rush over. I wave them off, half-laughing, half-gasping. Then gravity wins.
Sand catches me as I collapse, flopping onto my back to stare up at the lights.
It's over. Finally.