Arena Mode by Blake Northcott

Author:Blake Northcott [Northcott, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

It took a couple of hours to memorize the city. The night before the competition, I’d committed the entire borough of Manhattan to memory in painstaking detail: street names, addresses, hidden alleys, fire escapes – not to mention the precise location of every casket in The Arena. Sitting on the corner of 47th and 5th Avenue, I knew it was exactly fourteen thousand, two hundred and fifty-six feet to Tomkins Square Park. I could walk it in thirty-three minutes. I knew this place inside and out, and along with my martial arts and weapon training, I had it all covered – knew everything I needed to know. Except how to deal with letting someone die.

My strategy was to avoid confrontation unless it was absolutely necessary, but I wasn’t naive. The odds were that I couldn’t last until the final four without having to take someone’s life, or at the very least seriously injure them.

I played the scenario out in my mind a thousand times: a superhuman coming at me with evil intentions, my adrenaline pumping. They want me dead, and I have to defend myself. I have no choice in the matter: it’s fight or flight, and flight is no longer an option. Then, the most basic human instincts kick in, and I do what people have been doing since the first caveman picked up a heavy stick and bludgeoned his attacker to a bloody pulp. In the end, I’d experience something that resembled remorse, but I’d feel justified in my actions.

I wish my situation had been that simple.

It wasn’t Fudō Myōō’s blade that ended Kenneth Livitski’s life back in Times Square – it was my lie. I couldn’t rationalize it any other way. As I wandered along the empty sidewalks it was the only consistent thought that ran through my head for more than an hour. I wanted to place in the final four and walk away from the competition, but in that moment, I wasn’t even sure that I deserved to.

I’d travelled to the east end of the island, and it occurred to me that a weapon chest was practically right next to me. A four-story building with a deli on the ground floor was directly across the street, and the casket was hidden on the rooftop. I scaled the rickety fire escape and spotted it immediately. It hadn’t been opened, but possibly for good reason – it was one of the thirteen boxes adorned with a silver emblem, not gold. I wasn’t sure I wanted to take this chance.

Approaching with caution, I ran my fingers along the seam of the lid, and closely inspected every last detail. When I reached under the flap of metal where the lock would normally be located, I felt something strange. It was a thin, coiled wire, inconspicuously hidden from view – it would no doubt function as a trigger should someone attempt to flip open the lid. It was wired to explode.

I wasn’t positive how many people were left in the tournament.

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