Maza kicked Van’s prosthetic leg out from under her, sending her to her knees. She gnashed her teeth, her jaw sawing back and forth.
“You’re favoring your leg again!” Ypsilon shouted from the sidelines. “You’re telegraphing every move you make and you’re going to get us all killed because of it.”
Van pushed herself off the ground and brushed the dirt from her knees. She tilted her head back and hocked a wad of blood-laced spit at Ypsilon, who was sitting cross-legged atop a stack of crates. The wad fell short and landed on the grass. “No shit,” Van grunted, taking up a fighting stance once more. “It’s this damn leg. It keeps locking up on me.”
Adal puffed out a sigh and shook his head. Van had been an amazing fighter, but she was having trouble dealing with her new leg. If she couldn’t get out of her head, Maza was going to keep kicking her ass. Adal couldn’t imagine how the warrior was handling things mentally. It had to be hard for a born protector to not be able to fight.
Maza clasped his little sister on the shoulder. “We all have our barriers, Van. You need to push through them like a true Tekaha warrior. In battle, we take our hits and keep going.” Sweat beaded across his dark skin, seeming to follow the same path as the tattoos that wound their way across his bare chest.
Van shrugged her brother’s hand aside. “Well, the whole mechanical leg thing is still pretty new. So, how about you give me a break?”
“You had like six months to get used to the prosthetic,” Adal chimed in.
Van shot him a scowl and he raised his hands in defense.
Adal decided not to press further. He watched as Van turned her attention back toward Maza and raised her fists.
It was a good thing they’d decided to collect themselves after getting back to the mechanical realm of the World Machine. Adal had no idea Van was having so many issues with her prosthetic. She wasn’t going to do anyone any good if she couldn’t figure this out, not when Webley was missing. Adal didn’t have any reason to believe something sinister had happened to the alien creator of the mechanical world hidden in the center of the Earth, but he couldn’t shake the thought that something felt wrong.
“Remember Van, he’s much larger than you. Think about his center of gravity and leverage points,” Arija added.
Adal shifted his gaze to Arija, who stood on the other side of Van and Maza. She and Ypsilon had been coaching and critiquing Van’s form all morning.
Adal suddenly found himself thinking of last night. His first night with Arija. The smell of her dark chestnut hair, the softness of her skin. The feel of her body underneath his.
Adal shook his head.
He needed to focus on getting Van up to par so they could figure out what happened to Webley. But he couldn’t help the images that flashed through his mind. He wanted a second alone with Arija. To talk to her. To touch her.
“Van just needs a weapon and Maza wouldn’t stand a chance,” Kip chirped, pulling Adal from his thoughts again.
The robotic boy clutched a brown canvas satchel in his hand. He sat just outside the ring next to the crates where Ypsilon perched.
Ypsilon hopped to her feet, her multi-colored dreadlocks bouncing as she landed next to Kip. “The last thing Van needs is any of your weird shit, kid. We’re not trying to get blown the hell up. What she needs is a good—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re just scared my inventions will make her a better fighter than you,” Kip interrupted.
“I’m done with this!” Van shouted. She kicked the glass of water sitting next to her and it went rolling across the backyard. She charged full speed at Maza.
“Lower!” Arija yelled, crouching down.
Ypsilon punched her fist in the air. “Kick his ass!”
Van swung her mechanical leg and tried for a spin kick.
Adal shook his head. Ypsilon wasn’t wrong when she said Van had been telegraphing all morning. He could have seen that move coming from a mile away. And clearly, so could Maza.
Maza grinned at the familiar move. He caught Van’s leg and wrapped his arm around it.
Adal perked up as Van dropped her weight, bringing her other leg up and around. The heel of her boot collided with Maza’s jaw and he released his grip on her. He hadn’t seen that coming.
As Maza stumbled back, his hand cupping the side of his face, Adal leaned against the back of Webley’s house, bringing his full attention back to the fight.
“Damn it,” Maza spat.
Van charged.
Arija clapped her hands. “That’s it. You got it.”
“Don’t let her put you out like that Maz,” Ypsilon shrieked from the other side of the circle.
Maza brought his fists up. He threw a hook at Van, but she was ahead of him this time. Van ducked. She slammed her metal foot into his shin. The following strike was a counter knee to his groin.
Maza shouted. He grabbed his little sister around the arms and lifted her into the air. “Full contact? What happed to slap fighting?”
“Can’t handle it, Maza?” Van growled, her chest heaving.
Maza thrust his sister back. Van arched into a backflip, her legs narrowly missing Maza’s chest.
Adal couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, even as his jaw dropped.
Maza’s eyes glazed over, turning cold and calculating.
“You screwed up now, kid,” Adal warned.
Van landed on the tips of her toes and sprang at Maza.
The agility and coordination of the Grinders from the world known as Taraveil still amazed Adal. Granted, their entire planet was one large, sprawling city, controlled by gangs that essentially free-ran on every surface, even miles in the sky. For something like that to be your normal, you’d have to be coordinated.
Van spun through the air, her arms spread like a flying torpedo of craziness and anger. Maza jumped out of the way. Van shot around and charged back at him.
“Don’t burn all your energy,” Arija shouted.
Kip had jumped up and was inching dangerously close to the action. “Go low, Van.”
Adal watched in silence as Maza swatted aside each shot Van took. Maza didn’t even look like he was trying as he lazily batted away her attacks. As the chief of the warrior gang known as the Tekaha on his home planet of Taraveil, he’d earned that title by being the best.
Ypsilon shook her head as Van expended her last remaining bit of energy. She’d seen what Adal had seen too. Maza was just toying with Van. Soon the warrior chief would teach his sister a painful lesson.
As Van attempted to kick Maza in the face with an aerial strike, Maza grabbed her leg.
Adal sighed. He was having déjà vu.
This time, when Van responded with her rapid-spin kick, Maza drove his fist into her stomach.
“Gooaaaah.” Van doubled over, her hands reflexively flying to her belly.
Adal winced, feeling her pain.
Maza sent second and third shots into her chest and stomach. Van struggled to pull back but Maza wouldn’t let go of her leg. She twisted and turned and, when he finally did let go, Van fell to the ground in a crumpled mass, clutching her stomach.
Maza took a step towards her. Rolling away, Van clumsily fought to her feet. She brought her fists up. She’d been taught never to back down. Sweat drenched her loose-fitting shirt and she sucked in desperate gulps of air.
Maza smiled. “You are like your older brother after all.”
“Screw that. Beat his ass, Van!” Ypsilon shouted, winking at Maza.
Adal raised one eyebrow at the couple. He still didn’t understand how their relationship worked. Ypsilon was a psychopath, but Maza was a pretty decent guy. It seemed like Ypsilon toyed with Maza, using him for sex. And there was something strange about the way she enjoyed watching him fight, like the brute force turned her on. But then, every once in a while, he would catch Ypsilon watching the warrior chief, a strange, dazed look sprawled on her face.
Maza winked back at Ypsilon and she bit her lower lip hard enough to draw a small trickle of blood. Adal rolled his eyes. This was turning into some creepy foreplay; he could tell.
Van spat another mouthful of blood onto the grass. She snarled, her jaw sawing side to side and thick blood filling the gaps between her white teeth.
Arija stepped into the space between Maza and Van. “Let’s get inside. We need to have that leg looked at before it gets her killed.”
Kip hopped towards the front of the house. “Yeah, Arija’s right. This is pointless.”
“Don’t worry about it, Van. We’ll get you squared away. I just need a little time in a shop and I’ll get you some equipment that will decimate.” Ypsilon clasped Van’s shoulder.
“I can help,” Kip added as the group headed towards him.
Van sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Thanks guys, but—”
“Oh god! Someone help! Please!” A guttural scream shocked Van into silence.
Adal turned his attention to Maza, who had stopped walking. “What was that?”
“It sounds like someone needs help.”
Ypsilon rolled her eyes. “No shit.”
Adal stepped between the group and the yard, a crease forming on his forehead. Not many Dwellers knew where Webley lived and those that did wouldn’t come here unless it was an emergency. “Everyone get inside. Arija, go unlock the vault.”
Adal expected a snarky retort from his girlfriend, but she just nodded and turned towards the house. He surveyed the edges of the platform as Arija took Van inside and ordered Kip to follow.
Ypsilon walked over to stand next to Adal, her hand poised where her pistol should be, at her hip. “You know something we don’t?”
“I hope not.” The hairs on Adal’s neck stood on end. He didn’t have his gun and suddenly he was transported to the first fight they experienced on this platform. The fight that started the war with Pajak. The fight that killed two of his friends. Adal’s heart jumped into his throat and he swallowed hard. Memories of Cog and Avani, two of Webley’s trusted companions, brought a deep-seated sadness burning to the surface. He forced it back down.
Maza stepped to Adal’s side and peered into the distance, as if trying to understand what was going through Adal’s mind.
“Help! Please!” The voice was much louder this time.
Adal’s chest tightened. He turned and sprinted towards the front of the house. Rounding the corner, he paused, listening for another cry. After a few seconds, he heard it. A guttural yell coming from the tram railway at the end of the platform that connected Webley’s house to the elevator leading to the topside of Earth.
Maza, Ypsilon and Arija joined Adal on the platform as he walked towards the railway. He felt a little better having backup, but none of them had their weapons. If things turned south, they’d be on their own.
The group instinctually settled into formation. They moved as a unit, each step slow and deliberate. As they approached the railcar, Adal noticed a bronze liquid pooling near the tracks. He squinted, trying to reason out what was happening.
Small mechanical bits and bobs lay scattered across the slick metal surface of the platform. A spring crunched under Adal’s foot. He paused and turned towards Maza. “You ready?”
“I got you.”
Adal hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Just… If things pop off, get back to the house.” He glanced back at Arija. She was the most important thing in his life and he couldn’t let anything happen to her. “This isn’t the place to go hands on.”
Maza raised one bushy eyebrow and looked over at Ypsilon, who was trying not to laugh. She stared at Arija, who had turned a fiery shade of red.
Adal rolled his eyes and stepped into the railcar. “Oh shit.” The same bronze liquid covered the car and Adal had to grip the top of the nearest bench to steady himself, his boots struggling on the slick surface. The once beautifully polished fixtures and seats were covered with the oily substance.
“What is this?” Maza asked, running his finger across the bench before bringing it to his face. He scrunched his nose, wiping the substance on the side of his pants. “It smells too sweet. Like rotten fruit.”
Adal turned to look at Maza, re-steadying himself as his feet slipped and slid underneath him. “I don’t know what it is.” He turned back towards the aisle. “Looks like a big mess to me. Not sure where all this came from.” He eyed the car, his body vibrating with a mixture of worry and intrigue. The scene felt like panic and violence, and every fiber of Adal screamed at him to get out.
“Hey, it could have been worse,” Maza admitted. “It could have been blood or something.” He gave the train car one more scan, then rejoined Arija and Ypsilon.
Adal scrutinized the room. Something didn’t feel right. His instincts screamed that something bad had happened here, but he couldn’t figure out what.
From outside the train, Maza gave Ypsilon and Arija the all clear.
Something Maza said stuck in Adal’s mind. Could this be blood? Granted, not human blood, but maybe a Dweller’s. Adal had no idea what the mechanical occupants of the World Machine’s blood looked like, but it stood to reason that it would be different than a human's.
Adal’s shoulders dropped as he exhaled and exited the car.
Everyone stared at him, their faces distant.
“What are you guys looking at?” A warm sensation crept over Adal’s shoulder.
Drip.
It slid to his arm. Then his back.
Drip.
Adal tensed. His eyes bulged.
Drip.
He silently argued with himself. Should he run or look up?
Drip.
Fast or slow?
With his hands slowly rising to shield his face, Adal twisted his head and looked up. He let out a loud sigh. “Nothing.”
A fat droplet of the oily bronze liquid rolled off the top of the train and landed on Adal’s face. Relief washed him as he reached up and wiped the substance away. “Where’s all this coming from?”
Arija pointed at the top of the train. “Uh, Adal...”
“Yeah, hang on, let me check this out.” Adal stepped up on the railing. He reached for the light hanging at the entrance and gripped it to steady himself.
“Adal?” Maza called.
Adal adjusted his grip as he pulled himself on top of the railing. “Wait a minute. I got this.”
“Hey, idiot!” Ypsilon shouted.
Adal shot a look over his shoulder. “What?”
Ypsilon, Maza and Arija all backed up, pointing at the top of the railcar, a look of horror mirrored on each of their faces.
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