GunBarrel Gauntlet: The Last Bronze II

11. Uncaged.

Illuminated in the hellfire of torch stakes around the arena, the shadows of Blue Tattoo's face glared with a deadly intent as he looked down upon the Nomad and the girl.

"Kill them! I want their guts for garters!" He screamed as the inked tears under his eyes creased in wrath.

The kennel master and others surged toward the padlocked gate at his words, the outside crowds pelting stones through and over the walls of the circular cage, chanting for death as their tempers boiled.

"Get on!" The Nomad yelled at Liu, flinching as a rock bounced off his helmet.

Without further motivation, Liu ran toward the stranger as a dog nipped at her heels, straddling the available space at the end of the saddle, wrapping her arms around his reinforced leather jacket before the engine whirred with high revolutions.

Spraying a cloud of dust from the back wheel as it arced across the dirt to hold back the mutts that had been feasting on the fallen opponent, the bike found its purchase and began to circle the pit until it could once again mount the incline and defy gravity against the cage panels to loop horizontally. With each pass the machine climbed higher and higher as a rain of stones rebounded off the pair of riders.

Then, as though in slow motion, the stunt bike was thrown by its own volition out of the cage, leaving the lip of the wall as it corkscrewed through the air over the heads of the gang members whom had occupied the highest tier, Blue Tattoo crouching in alarm like the others as it flew across the night sky.

Nobody spoke, all eyes following the spectacle until it touched the ground in an explosion of thrown dust. Suspension recovering from the jarring contact, the stunt bike skidded to a temporary halt with both riders still intact.

Astonished at the agility of the Lion's escape, the crowd erupted into wild applause.

"Aaarrghh! Get them! Sergeants! Meet me in the war room... Now!" Blue Tattoo's lips curled as he ground his teeth in murderous rage.

* * *

"... in there, that's where Bluey keeps the gas." Socky whispered to the Irishman as they hid in the corridors above the administration building. Through the windows could be heard the engines of motorcycles and baying dogs outside.

With an empty milk carton in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, the Irishman dared a quick glimpse around the corner of the 'L' section they had arrived at, flattening himself back against the wall once he had seen enough.

Raising a free finger on the hand that gripped the carton to indicate a single guard, he met Socky's gaze and then motioned with his head for the mad man to go forth as a distraction.

Chocky the puppet swung side-to-side to reply in the negative.

Irked by the sock's mannerisms, the Irishman's face went blank in disbelief, exaggerating his earlier expression to emphasize that he would not have it any other way.

Swallowing his fear, Socky stroked the puppet to calm it, walking with trepidation around the corner as he disappeared from the Irishman's sight.

"Pardon me, don't reckon you've seen me mate around here?" Socky asked the guard.

"What are you doin' up 'ere Sock? Mate? What mate?" The guard scratched the stubble of his jaw with a mace of imbedded nails.

"Me little buddy, Chocky... seems to have crawled off when I had me eyeballs fixated on the cage match. Can't 'ave gone too far; he's got no legs."