DIVISION 52 - BOOK II

CHAPTER XLVIII

"That was the trouble with explaining with words. If you explained with gunpowder, people listened." 

― Dean F. Wilson, Dustrunner

P R O X I M O 

Artella flexed his arms under the lights of the pit. The crowd loved every inch of him–it made me want to hit him that much sharper.

The faceless' mask held up beyond expectation but I didn't fail to notice that glint in his eye when he jumped before Makayla. What had given me away? I had barely touched her... My stance, my swagger, perhaps just my size over the rest. But he was one to talk. Probably nearer to six foot five by now.

"Are you going to stand there gawking or take your shot?" He drawled with a knowing bite.

I flexed my fingers and rolled my neck slowly as I appraised him. Then I shrugged off the jacket and he glanced at the muscle the Division and several other rulers had forged. Conversations were loud around us as credit bars flaunted figures and bets made.

"There's a lot to hit." I mocked, running a bored look across him.

A blade skittered across the chalked floor between us and Art paused. He nodded at the weapon. "You'll need it more than me."

I didn't hesitate, striding forward and kicking it into my hand. His first mistake was thinking I was for a fair fight. Our personal guard had been forged in such situations–and nothing about fighting was ever fair.

It glinted in my fist as I spun it and the blade and drew it under my forearm. He smiled slowly at the other blade offered from the crowds but ignored it. Another error.

I lunged with a kick to his knee. He raised it and sent a palm to my throat. My head was already gone and my fist sought to run a line up his abdomen.

"Come on–that wouldn't kill me." He growled, punching my forearm under the weapon and making it come loose. I snatched it into my free hand and spun with a jab for his neck.

"If I wanted you dead–you fucking would be!" I spat, ducking his next cross and sending a front kick into his stomach. His hands caught my ankle and he kicked out my free leg. I grabbed his shirt and using the fall to my advantage.

Both my feet hit his chest and rolled me from the ground only to send him to it in a heavy puff of bloody chalk and anger. I strolled away checking the blade as he got to his feet behind me. The noise around us was heavy but the heavier difference was the disappearance of Scorpion herself. And Makayla Xavier.

They could concern themselves for a few minutes without us.

I turned to him and miscalculated his speed entirely–he was at my chest by the time I inhaled and drew the weapon up. It was dismissed as I was thrown against the side of the pit. His forearm took the air from me as I struggled to come up with a rapid response. Those dark eyes were calm and expectant. Waiting for something.

He pressed tighter still and the world started to distort around me. Perhaps Artella was considering my end truly this time–it was pathetic.

I saw the skin flicker in the corner of my vision suddenly and he relaxed his hold. I made to kick out at his legs but he ignored it.

"Funny. I didn't know you had that tech." Art murmured close to my face as he analysed it.

I growled low and sent a punch to his lungs. It may as well have hit iron. Or a Vanguard.