Greenblatt stood in front of the device. He ignored the fight with the menagerie, missing Krav’s performance entirely. No, the arena had no excitement that could be offered to a man like him. Blood and guts could entertain a nobleman who rarely saw that sort of thing, but ever since he met the boy in Agua Fria, Greenblatt felt that he had seen enough combat for a bit.

  It was the towering behemoth that drew his eye. The machine looked like a statue, the metal cold and lifeless. If it wasn’t for Ulrich’s stories on their journey, Greenblatt might have assumed that this was a decorative effigy to the spirit of the arena or something equally pretentious. Somewhere inside this monster was the mangled corpse of the warlord of the Pit Lords. He touched a hand to it, and he could feel the machine pulse of inner gears and instruments humming with life.

  A flash of excitement caused his heart to flutter, and his tinkering soul came alive. He could turn this thing on.

  On the lift ride back down to the cells, Krav continued his fight. The zerker in his system was still burning hot, and the others had to subdue his angry thrashes before they were thrown down the lift. It rumbled down to the bottom, the grate closing high above him. As soon as they arrived, guards flanked the lift and pointed their crackling prods at them. Krav broke free from his restraints and wound up a punch aimed at Lana. Without any emotion, she raised a device. It looked like the weapons the Gordo clan used, and that drove Krav’s blood to race through his veins. With the pull of the trigger, however, a spray of yellow foam coated the boy’s face.

  Some of the others were hit with the spray, causing them to cry out and shield their eyes. Krav fell to the floor, frantically wiping the stuff out of his eyes and mouth. His entire face tingled, then began to burn hotter and hotter until it stung enough to make him want to tear his own skin off. He rolled to his knees and vomited on the lift.

  “Gross. Get a slave here to clean that up, please. Take them back to the cell and patch them up.” Lana disappeared behind her clipboard. There were only five combatants left in total. She was crunching the numbers in her head, and they weren’t looking good. If Douglas Grave didn’t get a chance to redeem himself, it was almost a guarantee that she would be next on the menu for the arena’s hungry maw. The five that she did have were promising, however.

  The boy who had just come in, Krav he called himself, had just finished off a joker jackal by himself. A higher dose of zerker in the next round might guarantee the outcomes she wanted.

  Then there was a fraudster, Colton. Lana didn’t think he had it in him. The crime didn’t fit the punishment, and she assumed by his quiet demeanor and lackluster criminal history that he’d be one of the first to go. On the contrary, he had been the one to behead Mungo. He went straight back to his cell without needing to be goaded. His fingers combed his sweat-slick hair back into a neat black coif, and he sat in the cell waiting. Lana had been surprised by his tenacity, but she still marked on her clipboard to lower his dosage. Better he die to the horde. Douglas Grave wouldn’t be entertained by him.

  Beside Colton, a wild-eyed raider sat and hugged his knees to his chest. Lana thought he kind of looked like a clown with his trimmed blue hair splitting off into three mohawks. Her records showed he was given up by his clan after multiple warnings about his uncontrolled sadism. The only name provided for him was Polka-dot. He watched her through the bars, chewing his nails and smiling. Polka-dot was the one who had convinced everyone to charge Boris Junior, and it ended in most of them dead. As much as she hated to prescribe it, she upped his dosage as well. She might sleep better after Douglas Grave was done with him.

  Lana almost regretted having to put the next prisoner in with him. She was just a girl, probably no older than Lana herself. She had her black hair in a tangle around her shoulders, and she tried to smooth it out as she took up a corner far from the others. Black-Eye Mary was her name on file, and she had been a part of the group that killed the feline, Misha. Her home of Mallum Vid had given her to the Pit Lords as a gift. Lana’s sympathy waned as she read about the killing spree she had gone on. Normal dose, she noted.

  The final prisoner refused to get into the cell. He had both arms holding himself at the threshold of the cell, and even as the tasers shocked his limber body. Lana checked her notes. Romul of the Red Moon clan. A rapist subdued by a caravan of traders when he hid amongst them. He had managed to have his way with three girls before he was caught. Hiding under a boulder for the entirety of the melee, he was a specimen for sure. Lana had never seen someone’s own cowardly will overcome the rage induced by zerker. She didn’t even want to put him back up there.

  “Please! I can’t go back out there! Just kill me!”

  “Get in here, pussy! I’ll take good care of you!” Polka-dot said. He was up, crossing the cell and snatching Romul. His strong arms forced the coward the rest of the way in.

  “No killing yet,” Lana said. She looked up at the grate and saw the clock had been reset to five minutes. Their intermission wouldn’t be long now. “Get ready for the next round.”

  Devlin Domino was all by himself when Ulrich found him. The crowd had simmered down, and the music had cooled off as slaves wandered the arena trying to hoist the heavy beasts out. He was watching them for a while, then he stood to go find something to eat. When his eyes met Ulrich, his stomach calmed. He had brought an entire feast with him in the form of a freshly showered Shiela the Lioness.

  “Mister Domino, I believe you wanted an introduction?” Ulrich said. Shiela extended her hand, then looked at Ulrich. She was waiting for him to hand her off to the old man. With a growl, Ulrich guided her by the wrist.

  “I’m charmed, Mister Domino. Ulrich tells me you’re a fan.” Glossy blonde hair fell in a fine sheet. She still had her chin turned up, but she had a subtle smile on her face.

  Devlin took her hand and shook it like her touch was full of thousands of volts of electricity. “A fan? Karma above and below, my dear, you can consider me a smitten admirer!”

  “Would you like to join us? We were on our way back to the VIP lounge. You can meet the other combatants and enjoy the rest of the evening in luxury.”

  Ulrich shot her a glare. That wasn’t part of the deal. They were just here to get the map and leave. If she wanted to keep him company, she could do it after. “I hate to bring up debts but-”

  “Nonsense. My new friend here should join us. Tell me, Mister Domino, have you seen my act many times before?”

  Shiela led him away from the bleachers and towards the VIP room. There were fans among the stairwell that noticed her and waved, and Shiela offered them a curt nod as she passed. Ulrich fumed but followed anyways.

  The two of them relived some of Shiela’s greatest feats. Devlin was there for the Ultimate Rampage, the King of the Beasts, the Electric Rodeo, and the Blood Tithe. The Lioness seemed impressed by the little man’s attendance. When they finally reached the VIP room, Ulrich pushed passed them and opened the door.

  He was surprised to see Mac in good company. Hati and Mateo were all but ignoring her, but Boris and Loken were bunched up and practically feeding her. When the three entered, the girl looked up from her drink and cheered for him. The corner of Shiela’s mouth twitched.

  “Ulrich! Hey, fatso! You’re never going to believe it! Krav choked out a… what did you call it again?”

  “A joker jackal,” Jerod said. He was leaning on the couch and using his large metal arm like a crutch. When he met Ulrich’s eye, he had a knowing smirk. “I didn’t know you made friends with the prisoners.”

  Ulrich nearly flew to the window. Putting the boy in the cells was a terrible idea, but he told Lana that he would be back to retrieve him. Below, the slaves were dragging the last of the dead animals. The lovingly named gates of dread slowly closed after them, and the grate in the center of the arena withdrew.

  “Line up,” Lana called from just outside the cell’s bars. “Break time’s over.”

  “Please! For the love of all that’s merciful and good!” Romul had his arms through the bars; his hands folded in prayer. Before Lana could smack him with her taser, Polka-dot crept up behind him and seized him in a head lock.

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  “Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up and die like a good boy!” the clown said. He wrenched Romul’s head to one side and licked the pooling sweat of his neck with a tongue that seemed two inches too long. “You taste like dog piss. All of you cowards taste like it.”

  “That’ll be enough,” Lana said. When Polka-dot refused to release Romul, she jabbed her prod in and electrocuted them both. The clown’s eyes flicked from the coward’s neck to Lana’s and they held each other’s gaze before he finally released Romul. It made the girl uncomfortable, but she tried not to show it from behind the clipboard. “Go get your dosage and get on the lift.”

  Romul begged and pleaded as the cell door opened and Polka-dot dragged him out. Colton and Black-Eye Mary came next. To Lana’s surprise, it was the boy that remained the longest. Krav sat on the floor, his face splotchy and red from the foam she had to use to subdue him. Bandaged hands didn’t have time to heal, and as he flexed them, Krav could feel every puncture wound made by the joker jackal’s teeth.

  Whatever that foam was, it was a real buzzkill. One moment, he was having the time of his life on the zerker, the next he was in so much blinding pain he lost it all. He felt empty. There were plenty of sobering moments he had in life: losing his brother one night after Lenny had wandered off, walking into the tent when Rufus was naked. But this was different. To his knowledge, there was no worse substance in the valley than that foam. Being forcefully made sober left him reeling and awkward.

  “Up,” Lana said. Krav groaned at her and braced for the smack of her prod. Instead, she removed something from the clip on her clipboard and handed it to him. It was a needle with the plunger pulled all the way back. A viscous liquid swam within. “That’s zerker. Take as much as you want, you won’t come back down here after the Horde if you survive. Just try not to take more than-”

  Krav remembered how they administered it. They were looking for the little lines below his skin. Veins, he recalled. Before Lana could finish, Krav tore one sleeve upwards and found the squiggling line. The needle went in, and the plunger descended completely. The relief was almost instant. Where the foam had left him feeling empty, the zerker filled him once more. His spirits lifted, the energy returned, and his chest fluttered with newfound strength. He was up and almost sprinting towards the cell door. Lana picked up the syringe off the floor with a smile. It was the most she had ever dosed outside of the execution dose. She was excited to see its effects.

  At the lift, Romul was still complaining. A red dot on his forearm was evidence that he had been dosed already. Krav approached and jumped onto the lift. The boy seemed to be in high spirits again, and when a guard tried to administer another dosage, Lana called to him and warned that she had already administered it. The last one to get a dose was Polka-dot. They all watched as his dose was two-thirds of the syringe’s contents. He took a deep, ragged breath, and grinned up at the hole in the ceiling. At the portal to more carnage.

  “Why did he get more?” Romul asked. He was looking between Lana and the guard administering the dosage. “Why did you give him more than me? More than all of us? What’s going on?”

  Colton and Black-Eye Mary received half doses, a standard amount when taking the drug. Romul was only given a quarter of the injection.

  “They like me better, I guess,” Polka-dot said. The clown took a deep whiff of his injection site like he was snorting the stinking fumes of an incense.

  “Give me more! Please!”

  “It would be wasted on you,” Lana said. “Please get on the platform. You’re about to go on.”

  Romul’s jaw quivered and tears fell from his face. As the zerker began to kick in, he felt his despair bloom into anger. He reached for Lana, ready to strangle her. One of the guards grabbed him and threw him onto the lift. With a quick nod to its operator, Lana sent them rising into the Pit.

  “No!” Romul cried. Veins in his reddening face writhed. From the high point of the lift, he stared down at Lana with burning hatred. He figured he might be able to jump down without dying, and he threw one leg over the side.

  “Go ahead and splatter, scab head,” Krav said.

  “No!” Polka-dot insisted. He snatched Romul by the collar and dragged him from the edge of the lift just inches before it reached its destination. Any longer and Romul would have been cut in half. “These people want a fucking show! Stand up and give them a show you baby-back-bitch!”

  As soon as the lift was done moving, the clock began its countdown. All the prisoners split up. Romul was the only one left on the lift. With the zerker coursing through his veins, he turned his newfound hatred onto the metal beneath him. He pounded it and screamed, begging it to take him back down.

  Krav ran through the arena like a madman. His arms were pumping, his chest heaving. His only goal here was to find the axe. The zerker in his blood felt good, felt better than good. With such a high dosage, he was able to pierce the veil of souls. The skull on his hip began to speak again.

  “Krav! Krav!”

  “Hold on Rufus! I’m looking for something!” he didn’t realize he was beginning to drool.

  “It’s back there! What have you gotten your hands on this time?”

  Zerker didn’t have the same properties as DMD. Where the mushroom made Krav feel fantastic and caused him to see things that weren’t in the physical realm, the needle made him feel insane. He was a rabid dog looking for his claws in the sand. The whites of his wide eyes were turning red under the irritation of the spotlights, and his hearing was starting to tunnel as the music sounded. His heart beat out of rhythm. His body felt like it was as light as a feather, and he could swear he was moving faster. It was a difference between enhancing one’s spirit versus enhancing one’s abilities.

  “Near where you killed the joker jackal!”

  “Shut up!” Krav screamed. He didn’t mean to sound so angry, but the zerker in his blood stream was coaxing him deeper and deeper into madness. He took a deep breath and checked the clock. Three minutes. “By that weird dog?”

  Krav checked the area, and sure enough it was there. Colton held it up, feeling his thumb against the saw-teeth. There was a quick pang of anger, then the fraudster must have decided against it. He dropped it to the floor and ran for another weapon.

  It had dawned on Krav that he had no idea what a horde was. He didn’t know what a menagerie was either, but that turned out to be a bunch of animals or something. Memories of big words Lenny and Rufus had tried to teach him were flooding his mind, then he realized he had the source sitting on his hip. “Hey, what the hell is a horde?”

  “It means a lot of something. Expect a whole gang of raiders, or even a pack of animals not unlike the menagerie.”

  The smart thing to do would be to find a weapon better suited for a fight with multiple enemies. Perhaps something like a sword for the parrying potential, maybe even a spear to keep his distance. Colton had settled on a heavy two-handed sword that he seemed to be unfamiliar with. He spun it in windmill patterns with little confidence. Black-Eye Mary looked pleased with her weapons, two twin daggers. Krav was surprised she managed to find a matching pair. Polka-dot had a spear in each muscular arm, and he howled at the clock as if that would make it tick faster. Romul still pounded a fist into the lift.

  “Bring me down! Let me out of here you pieces of shit!” He let out a throat-shredding animalistic roar at the elevator. Threads of saliva whipped from his desperate lips, then his angry war cry turned into despairing sobs. “Let me out…”

  “I should kill you now, you pathetic fuck!” Polka-dot pressed the tip of one spear into Romul’s neck. “I can’t stand fighting alongside babies! You make the rest of look bad!”

  Polka-dot pierced Romul’s clothes and wrenched him away from the lift. As soon as he was off, it descended, and the grate slid back over it, sealing the only way out. Romul screamed and reached for it, only being released by the clown when it was fully closed.

  The time ran out. The music swelled. The lights dimmed. The gates of dread grinded open as the spotlights swept over it. The prisoners watched as nothing emerged. With the zerker coursing through his veins, Romul sprinted for the only other means of escape. The coward ran towards the gates of dread and disappeared into the darkness within. The crowd booed him from the bleachers. It was one less prisoner to watch get executed.

  Romul’s chest filled with hope, and a smile spread across his drooling face. Tears fell in fat globs as freedom felt inevitable. In the dark, he slowed and felt for a wall to guide himself.

  “I’m out,” he sobbed. “I’m actually out!”

  He had prayed to whatever god would listen for days. His Karma was perhaps muddied by a decade spent with the Red Moon clan, and his treatment of all those women didn’t grant him high prospects of salvation. But here he was. He vowed on his mother’s deceased soul that he wouldn’t harm another soul for the rest of his miserable life, and Karma granted him that much.

  Something in the dark grabbed him. At first, Romul flinched. Just as freedom was in reach, he was going to be devoured by the pitch black around him. There was a giggling chorus surrounding him, and whatever snatched him up was pulling him closer. He knew that touch, that cheerful sound. There were women here.

  “Who are you?” an airy voice asked. He could hear the smile in her words. The arteries in Romul’s chest swelled, and he reached for her.

  Soft skin graced his hands. He could feel flowing linen that contained her form. Hands explored in the dark, reaching her waist and resting on her hips. Without even seeing her, he knew she was his type. The smell coming off of her was something he could get over, not everyone bathed after all. More hands approached from the shadows. Some were dainty and light, others thick and strong. Romul was overwhelmed by the sensuality of it all, and he had second thoughts about his vows with the gods.

  “Who is this?” cooed another voice.

  “Who is this?” asked another still.

  Romul felt the woman in front of him kiss at his chest. Her lips were working their way up his neck. They pecked at his jaw, and he turned his head to kiss her.

  Cracked lips met his own, and the experience was unlike anything Romul had ever experienced before. There was no force, or coercion. He didn’t have to threaten her with death in order to get her to act like she loved him. And she wasn’t acting. With hands all over him and their lips locked together, Romul felt for the first time in his life what it might be like to fall in love. His hands wrapped around the strange woman, finding the small of her back. He pressed them closer together.

  Suddenly, more lips came out of the darkness. Hot breath warmed his jumpsuit and his ecstasy was almost enough to make him forget where he was. Hands knotted in his hair. Fingers undid his jumpsuit. Then teeth. So many teeth.

  Over the roar of the crowd, over the thrashing music, they could all hear Romul’s screams. Krav and the other prisoners readied themselves for whatever might come out of the gates. Suddenly, something round flew from the darkness and rolled through the sands. Polka-dot picked it up and howled with laughter. He presented Romul’s head to the crowd. The rapist's eyes were frozen in shock, and his lips were torn off to reveal his unamused smile beneath.