Page 36 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

I do, and it results in my Avri solidifying into a steady weapon of death, which, with a battle cry I didn’t know I had in me, I stab down in a wide arc for Player 4’s arm—

Then promptly squeal like a little girl as he shifts fast enough for the blade to miss him completely, his bared teeth and manic eyes now drilling into me.

“I’m sorry!” I squeak like a complete buffoon.

The only response I receive is a deranged snarl.

“Shit!”

The curse from my right saves me from extreme bodily harm as we both turn to watch a familiar man duck to escape a fatal blow from the Champion’s Avri dagger, the two of them zipping around each other on their tribikes much like me, Tiger, Scotty, and Player 4 are doing.

The huge man in front of me moans. “Go on, baby, slice him up!”

I splutter, gaping at him incredulously.

“Jesus fuck!”

Tiger’s awed exclamation brings my attention back to Ezla, and I watch as, as if in slow motion, she launches herself off her bike, her crimson energy vacuuming back up into her Avri pads as she flips upside down. Toned arms extend, hands latching onto her prey’s broad shoulders, before dragging him off his own bike and with her onto the ground, leaving her landing in a practiced crouch, one gloved palm pressed to the taalk, while Player 17 ends up slamming onto his back a foot away with a pained “oomph”, his Avri vanishing as well.

“Guess we’re moving this to the ground!” Tiger leaps off of his own tribike, speeding right towards the danger without thought; Avri demanifesting, he lands in an effortless roll before springing up to his feet, and he’s . . . he’s beaming. I know he’s terrified of the Champion just like I am, but he’s also appearing more and more excited by her by the second.

“Fuck’s sake, Tiger!” Scotty curses, immediately following, his gaze both worried and angry as it tracks his brother’s reckless movements.

“No one touches my girl!” Player 4 seethes, the next one to toss himself into the fray.

Oh, gods . . . this really is utter bedlam.

I fling myself after the lot of them.

Now with both hands free, I immediately grab my second armoury stick, luckily so desperate, and my mental order so violent with that desperation, that my Avri obeys without any faults this time, resulting in me brandishing two green-glowing daggers that illuminate the glossy floor beneath me. But then I realise I don’t even know where to start to make sure I’m a help rather than a hindrance:

Further back, Tiger’s leg arcs low, attempting to kick Ezla’s out from under her while he’s close to the ground, but she swiftly leaps up, using the height and momentum to slam her boot into the side of his head with a whack! before her body twists inconceivably in the air until she’s facing Player 17, where her leg hooks around the side of his neck in another impossible move and takes him to the ground. Closer, not six feet from me, Player 4 grapples with Scotty on the taalk, and they roll around like animals, the former not even bothering with his armoury sticks as he smashes large fists wherever he can reach, forcing the leaner man to go on the defence as the weapon he’d had manifested is knocked from his hand in the tumultuous tussle; it zaps back inside the ebony baton as he loses focus on it, and his second one isn’t readily available to grab when it’s attached to the back he’s stuck on.

Shit, shit, shit . . .

Starting forwards, I’m about to go to Scotty, deciding his situation is currently the most perilous—when that dreaded robotic voice stops me dead in my tracks, freezing my blood solid.

“Five minutes remaining.”

And that’s when it happens.

Everything changes.

The two men who’d been brawling’s movements come to a crashing halt, and I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it with my own two eyes, but a mutual agreement, a silent understanding, passes between them in a flash. They both know there’s absolutely no more time to waste. And even though it’s for different reasons, bonding is the only goal left, the only thing they have time for if they want to become a Bonded rather than ashes. And then—

“Help me,” Player 4 growls, his wild grey eyes holding a hint of vulnerability, of a panic and desperation he can’t hide.

Because he gets it, too. He comprehends that there’s no time to attempt to outmatch Ezla on his own, even if he could. The only way to have a solid chance at succeeding is to work together.

And Scotty nods.

***

“Four minutes remaining.”

All the air leaves my body with one bone-cracking boot to my stomach.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I crash to the ground, only able to get back up when Tiger lifts my entire weight and dumps me back on my feet.