Their Property (Four Mercenaries 3)

Apollo cocked his head, holding a pipe in his hand. “I’ve got you indeed. Exactly where I want you.” He filled his lungs, as if he were about to make a longer speech, but ended up shutting his mouth a split second before Tank yanked at Clover’s arm. Words of protest stilled on Clover’s mouth when the massive bulk of the wild cat pounced the wall just below the box, its mane like a banner of death above sharp claws that narrowly missed Clover’s flesh.

Tank became a wall between Clover and the predator wanting to snatch the weakest in the herd, but as Clover stumbled back, trying to regain his balance, he face-planted into a man’s chest. Gasping, he jumped back, ready to fight his human opponent, only to recognize Pyro in the dress shirt and tie he’d worn for the event.

For a moment, reality warped.

“You thought I was gonna let you go?” Pyro asked, his hand on a flag pole he must have collected on the way. He eyed the lion with a deep frown, as if he were calculating the beast’s next move.

Tank moved out of the way when the animal swung its giant paw at him, and Pyro made his move, charging at the beast with a roar of his own, like a knight holding a lance.

The lion opened its jaws, showing off sharp teeth, but before Clover could have stopped Pyro, Tank dragged him away from the noisy confrontation. With his head firmly pressed to the massive chest, Clover realized Tank was ready to be his human shield ‘til the end, but Clover would do the same for him.

Pyro’s scream pulled him back to reality. He looked over Tank’s shoulder, only to see his other lover running off with the broken pole in hand. The lion dashed behind him, but as Clover was about to fight Tank’s grip, Pyro managed to scramble to the top of the cage, just beyond the lion’s reach.

Apollo’s insane laughter resonated through speakers. “Fitting end to the lot of you!’

Clover’s brain swirled with ideas of attacking the beast while it was busy, but when gunfire echoed throughout the arena, spurring the kind of chaos that would have resulted from Apollo’s poison-induced heart attack in their original plan. People climbed up the steep levels of the seating or ran for exits, trampling food, belongings, and those who chose to stay behind, but Clover only had eyes for Drake, who clashed with one of the guards at the entrance to Apollo’s box.

Clover’s perception turned to slow motion as he watched Drake spin the guard around, only to use him as a shield when two others sent bullets that way. The knife glinted in the bright light, like a violin bow in the hands of a virtuoso, and sent blood soaking into the guard’s T-shirt. But before he could have dropped the rifle he was holding, Drake snatched it from him and packed a whole series of bullets into one of Apollo’s other men. The last one, who’d stood at Tank’s side behind Apollo throughout the event, dashed behind a column, frantic to reload his handgun, but Drake went after him like the embodiment of fury, and smashed his head with the rifle.

Tank stiffened, pulling Clover with him when the lion turned his attention back to them, but the moment the animal left the proximity of the cage, Pyro jumped back into the sand and stabbed the big cat’s leg with the broken pole before retreating as the beast stumbled after him with a growl that promised death.

With immediate danger gone, Clover looked to the box again, and his blood ran cold when he spotted a gun in Apollo’s hand. Drake faced him with his teeth bared, and hair loose like a wild black mane, but the elderly man’s arm seemed as steady as ever when he pointed the firearm at him.

“No,” Clover uttered, squeezing Tank’s arm, but before his heart could have beat three times, a huge form emerged from the side of the box and twisted the gun out of Apollo’s hand. The long wig flew into the air as Boar grabbed the human monster who had turned their lives into a game of live or die, and bashed the white head against the railing.

Gasps echoed throughout the amphitheatre, and many people stopped mid-way to the emergency exits, unable to help their curiosity. Clover’s feet grew roots when Boar grabbed Apollo as if he were a rag doll and raised him over his head with a roar worthy of the animal stalking the arena.

Tank pulled on Clover again and moved them both around the perimeter, away from the beast that had once again left Pyro behind, its attention on weaker prey. The huge teeth were a promise of a painful death, so Clover didn’t protest, stiffening when the lion lowered his front, preparing for a dash their way.