The harsh buzz of their makeshift alarm jolted Steele and Maze awake, their eyes snapping open in unison. Sunlight or sothing brighter stread through the grimy window, far brighter than it should have been.
"Shit," Steele growled, scrambling to his feet. "We overslept."
Maze was already moving, her fingers flying as she laced up her boots. "The fight. We can't miss it."
They burst out of their quarters, racing through the winding streets of the Undercity. The usual bustling atmosphere was eerily absent, the pathways nearly deserted.
As they rounded the final corner, they skidded to a halt, montarily stunned by the sight before them. The area surrounding the Fight Pit was a seething mass of humanity, bodies pressed together in a chaotic tapestry of anticipation and excitent.
"Damn," Maze breathed, her eyes wide. "It's like the whole Undercity showed up."
Steele nodded grimly. "Makes our job... harder. Co on, we... need to get closer."
They pushed their way through the crowd, ignoring the grumbles and curses thrown their way. Elbows jabbed, feet were stepped on, but they pressed on relentlessly until they found themselves near the front of the throng.
A hush fell over the crowd as the match official stepped into the center of the arena, his voice amplified by so unseen technology.
"Ladies and gentlen, scum and nobility alike," he bellowed, a twisted grin on his face. "Today, we have a treat for you. In one corner, the undefeated champion, the man who's crushed more skulls than you've had hot als – HamrLock!"
The crowd erupted as a mountain of a man lumbered into the arena. HamrLock lived up to his na, standing well over seven feet tall, his body a mass of corded muscle and crude cybernetic enhancents.
In his hand, he wielded a hamr that looked like it could flatten a tank. His face was a nightmare of scar tissue and tal plates, eyes glowing an unnatural red.
There was no hint of emotion on that terrifying visage, just the promise of violence.
"And his challenger," the announcer continued, "the newcor who's been making waves, the man they call – SLIMY!"
The cheer that went up as Zafron entered the arena was deafening. Steele and Maze exchanged glances, their target finally in sight.
Zafron looked different from the images they'd studied – muscular, harder, his eyes holding a wariness that hadn't been there before. But it was unmistakably him.
Steele felt his muscles tense, the urge to leap into the arena and grab Zafron nearly overwhelming. But the roar of the crowd reminded him of the futility of such an action. They'd be torn apart before they could take two steps.
"Easy," Maze murmured, sensing his tension. "We wait. We watch."
The announcer raised his arms. "Let the carnage begin!"
HamrLock wasted no ti, charging forward with a roar that shook the very air. His hamr swung in a devastating arc, aiming to end the fight before it truly began.
But Zafron was ready. At the last possible mont, he dropped and rolled, the hamr whistling over his head close enough to ruffle his hair. As he ca up, his arm shot out, a stream of red sli erupting from his palm.
The sli splattered across HamrLock's face, instantly hardening into a crimson mask. The big man bellowed in rage, clawing at the obstruction with his free hand.
"Oh ho!" the announcer crowed. "Looks like Slimy's living up to his na! But will it be enough to stop the unstoppable HamrLock?"
It wasn't. With a flex of his imnse muscles, HamrLock shattered the hardened sli, chunks of red raining down around him. His eyes locked onto Zafron, burning with murderous intent.
What followed was a brutal dance of violence. HamrLock's hamr swung again and again, each blow powerful enough to shatter bone.
Zafron dodged and weaved, using his superior agility to stay just out of reach. But he couldn't dodge forever.
A glancing blow caught Zafron in the ribs, the crack audible even over the roar of the crowd. He stumbled, gasping for air, and HamrLock pressed his advantage.
The hamr ca down in an overhead strike aid squarely at Zafron's skull. At the last second, Zafron managed to form a shield of hardened sli, but the impact still drove him to his knees. Cracks spiderwebbed across the red surface of the shield.
"Ooh, that's gotta hurt!" the announcer cackled. "Is this the end for our slimy friend?"
In the crowd, Steele found himself gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. "Co on," he muttered. "Don't you dare... die here. Not before... I get my hands on you."
Maze shot him a questioning look, but he ignored it, his eyes fixed on the fight.
HamrLock raised his hamr for another devastating blow, but this ti Zafron was ready.
He dissolved his cracked shield, the liquid sli flowing around HamrLock's legs and rapidly hardening. The big man's swing went wide as he lost his balance, stumbling awkwardly.
[Not bad, slick,] Calista's voice echoed in Zafron's head. [But you might want to do sothing about that rib before he pulverizes you.]
Zafron gritted his teeth, using the montary reprieve to form a thick layer of sli around his torso, providing support for his injured ribs. It wasn't a fix, but it would have to do.
HamrLock roared in frustration, smashing his hamr against the hardened sli around his legs. Cracks appeared, but it held. He raised the hamr again, preparing to bring it down on his own legs if that's what it took to free himself.
But Zafron didn't give him the chance. With a grunt of effort, he ford a massive fist of sli, easily as large as HamrLock's hamr. It shot forward, catching the big man squarely in the face.
The impact was thunderous. HamrLock flew backward, his legs finally breaking free of their red prison. He slamd into the arena wall with enough force to leave a dent in the tal plating.
The crowd went wild, their allegiances shifting as quickly as the tide of battle. "Slimy! Slimy! Slimy!" they chanted.
But HamrLock wasn't done. He staggered to his feet, spitting blood and what looked suspiciously like a tooth. With a bellow of pure rage, he charged again, his hamr describing lethal arcs through the air.
Zafron ducked and weaved, but he was tiring. A blow that would have taken his head off instead grazed his shoulder, tearing a bloody furrow across his skin. Another caught him in the leg, sending him sprawling.
HamrLock lood over him, hamr raised high. "I'm gonna crush your skull," he growled, his voice a tallic rasp. "Gonna paint this arena with your brains."
Ti seed to slow for Zafron. He could see the hamr starting its descent, could hear the bloodthirsty roar of the crowd. In that mont, a strange calm settled over him.
[Well,] Calista mused, her tone oddly contemplative, [this has been fun. Any last words?]
Zafron's eyes narrowed. "Yeah," he muttered. "Not today."
With a surge of desperate energy, he ford another sli construct. But this ti, instead of a shield or a fist, he created a ramp. As HamrLock's hamr fell, it hit the slick red surface and slid off course, missing Zafron by inches and embedding itself in the arena floor.
The big man's montum carried him forward, and Zafron took advantage. He rolled to his feet and, in a move that drew gasps from the crowd, ran up the sli ramp. At the top, he launched himself into the air, twisting his body to build montum.
As he ca down, he ford another hamr of sli, this one bigger than any he'd made before. It connected with HamrLock's head with a sickening crunch, driving the big man face-first into the arena floor.
The impact shook the entire structure. Dust and small debris rained down from the ceiling. For a mont, everything was silent.
Then HamrLock groaned, tried to push himself up, and collapsed back to the ground, unconscious.
The crowd exploded into cheers, the sound nearly deafening. The announcer was shouting sothing, but his words were lost in the buzz.
Zafron stood over his fallen opponent, chest heaving, blood dripping from various wounds. He swayed on his feet, looking like he might join HamrLock on the ground at any mont.
The match official rushed into the arena, grabbing Zafron's arm and raising it high. "Your winner, and new champion – SLIMY!"
As the crowd's frenzy reached new heights, Steele and Maze exchanged aningful glances. Their target had just beco the most famous person in the Undercity.
"Well," Maze said dryly, "this complicates things."
Steele nodded grimly. "We need to move fast. Before he disappears into the crowd."
As Zafron stumbled towards the arena exit, Steele's eyes darted around the crowd, looking for any sign of Zafron but that was when a flash of blonde hair caught his attention, high up in the stands.
A woman stood there, her face partially obscured but her posture radiating excitent. Beside her was a man in expensive-looking clothes, his hand resting possessively on her lower back.
"Maze," Steele murmured, nodding towards the couple. "You see... that?"
Maze followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing. "Matilda?"
"Looks like it. And she's not alone." Steele's jaw clenched. "Okay, change... of plans. You follow her, see where she goes... after this.
I'll tail Zafron."
Maze nodded, already moving towards the stairs leading to the upper stands. "Be careful," she called over her shoulder. "He's more dangerous than we thought."
Steele grunted in acknowledgnt, his eyes never leaving Zafron as the new champion limped out of the arena. The crowd was already starting to disperse, and Steele knew he had to move quickly to avoid losing his quarry.
As he pushed his way through the throng, following the trail of excited whispers and pointing fingers, Steele couldn't shake a growing sense of unease. Sothing about this whole situation felt off, like he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.
But there was no ti to dwell on that now. He had a job to do, a target to apprehend. And nothing – not HamrLock, not the adoring crowds, not even Zafron's fighting skills – was going to stop him.
With a final glance back at the now-empty arena, Steele slipped into the shadows of the Undercity, hot on the trail of the man they'd co so far to find.
The hunt was on.
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