“I love you Jamie. I thought you were dead,” he choked out, shocked to realize that he’d believed this all along. Without Boar in the picture, a sober life hadn’t been worth the effort, and so he’d come to this godforsaken place with one goal—to die.
“I knew you’d find me. I had to survive,” Boar said, but then grappled Pyro and rolled with him. It was instinct to knock his elbow into Boar’s face. They needed the audience to think they were playing by the rules, no matter how much it aggravated him. His brain rushed at top speed, noticing everything too fast, and in this moment the bright spotlights above were like alien airships descending to abduct them both.
“Is there a way out?” he rasped, eyes locked on Boar’s.
“You just have to make a run for it.” Boar groaned at the blow to his ribs, but they’d wrestled enough times to know each other’s capabilities by heart. He pulled on Pyro’s arm and slammed him face-down into the tiles, perched on top like a wild animal that wanted to play with its food before making the kill. “There’s a loose drain cover to your right, in the corner. Grab it as a weapon, then take a guard’s gun if you can.”
Pyro groaned. “We can drive of. I have your car. Let’s go,” he said, eyes settling on the cover. It was circular, the size of a large plate but looked heavy enough to make a decent weapon in capable hands.
The crowd roared when Pyro cut one of Boar’s legs from under him and rushed toward the corridor he’d earlier walked, his eyes briefly catching Morticia’s.
“I’ll be behind you. Pretending I’m chasing you,” Boar whispered, charging at Pyro, who moved his shoulder, escaping the grasp in a move etched on his muscle memory. He spun around Boar and locked his head with one arm as blood buzzed through their bodies.
“I’ll lead the way,” he said, staring at Boar’s bald head during this mock-choke. He missed the fluffy waves of hair tickling his chin, but they would grow back, and that thought kept him going as he rose to his toes and scowled when Boar repeatedly punched back with his elbow, as if attempting to free himself.
Pyro’s gaze swept all around, catching glimpses of mouths opened wide to scream, of red faces, and fingers crooked into claws. Bloodlust boiled in everyone’s heads, and he was about to take their favorite drug away.
Pyro released Boar’s neck and rolled toward the drain at top speed. He dug his fingertips in where the cover protruded from the otherwise smooth surface and forced it out of its place. Heavy as a shield, it must have been used by fighters before, because the rows of spectators rose, their shouting making his ears ring.
His perception was on the verge of overloading, but he locked his eyes with Boar, who still held his throat with one hand, as if Pyro had really been trying to choke him. There was blood on his teeth and in his beard, and for the briefest moment Pyro worried that he’d hit him too hard. But Boar rising to his feet and hunching forward like a beast about to charge was Pyro’s starting pistol.
He spun around and used the small distance to gain momentum before leaping up the lowest point of the wall surrounding the pool. The noise might have died somewhat, or maybe it was his heartbeat that suppressed it, but as he pushed Morticia away, who didn’t get enough time to consider her options, the room became a roaring tornado about to suck him and Boar back in. His head was a rattle filled with desperation. All he could think of was that the man he loved was alive and that they now needed to get out of this snake pit.
Behind him, Boar let out a roar that pushed Pyro’s feet forward. “Fucking coward! Come back here!” But despite their closeness, his raspy voice was soon drowned out by the king’s voice coming from the speakers and raised so high its tone stabbed Pyro’s eardrums.
“Cowards don’t belong here. Bring him in, alive or dead!”
Immediately after, a loud chanting made by an entire audience of people. A single syllable.
“Dead. Dead. Dead.”
An armed guard emerged from the darkness, his eyes wide, as if he’d never seen such stunts, but before he could have managed to lift a finger, Pyro smashed his head with the drain cover, leaving behind body number one. Many more would be added to the list by the end of this night.
“You’re high. Why are you fucking high, Pyro? You promised,” Boar huffed, catching up to him as they burst into the waiting room from earlier.
The topic was so out of place when on the run from armed goons Pyro couldn’t wrap his head around it at first, and he glanced Boar’s way with his mouth wide. A bullet hit the wall right next to his head and sent shards of plaster into the air, bursting the bubble of guilt. They had a few seconds of advantage, and they would use it!