Private (Private 1)

Scylla pulled open the van door and got his first good look at the target. The girl was bigger than he’d thought.

She was at least five ten and looked ripped. With only seconds to make his decision, Scylla leaped to the sidewalk, came up behind her, and threw a cloth bag over her head, cinching the drawstring.

She screamed incredibly loud, and she fought back too.

Scylla clapped his hand over her mouth. He was so filled with adrenaline, it took nothing for him and Morbid to lift her off the sidewalk and throw her into the back of the van.

Morbid slammed the doors closed and slapped the divider to signal Steem to go, go. Then he and Scylla threw their bodies on top of the struggling girl.

“Gotcha,” Scylla said. “Now be a good girl.”

Morbid yelled at her, “If you shut the hell up, we’ll give you a chance to win.”

Scylla’s mouth was dry. He was so pumped. Even if he wanted to, there was no backing out now.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Give me a chance to win what?”

Chapter 37

THERE WAS A screech of brakes as the black van jerked to a halt. The doors ground open, and Scylla and Morbid hoisted the girl out by her long arms and legs. They carried her quickly away from the street and tossed her to the ground.

Suddenly she was a blur as she pulled off the hood and got to her feet in one startlingly fast movement. She lashed out to clear the space around her and faced Scylla, who was in a wrestling crouch only a body’s length away.

He grinned, a ski mask covering most of his face. She was nothing like the combatants he’d faced on Commandos of Doom. Her reality was startling and exciting, but most of all, it was a challenge.

“Hey, Tigerpuss. Here, kitty kitty,” he said to the girl.

“Who are you?” Marguerite screamed back at him.

“I’m the one who’s going to test you,” Scylla said. “It’s me against you, Marguerite.”

The girl looked around, and Scylla saw her take in the scene. They were on Rowena, past the strip malls and stores, right on the bank of the reservoir, a place as desolate as the dark side of the moon. Cars zoomed by beyond the fence that walled off the reservoir from the road.

Morbid and Steem danced around Marguerite, executing martial feints that Scylla had used innumerable times on Commandos of Doom. It not only kept the target off balance, it blocked her escape.

But where some girls would have begged and cried, this one lunged. She shot out the heel of her hand and connected with a cracking sound, square on Scylla’s nose.

He fell back with a howl of agony and held his face with both hands. He saw the girl turn to run, dodging the others as if she were weaving through defenders for a layup in a playground basketball game.

Steem reached out with a long arm, grabbed the girl’s hair, and yanked her right off her feet.

Then he let go of her and stepped back. This wasn’t his turn.

Scylla thought he knew what to do now. He went straight for the girl, visualizing throwing her to the ground and choking her with a headlock—but she was much faster than he was.

She spun around, chopped at him in some kind of judo move, then followed the chop with a kick to his groin. He saw the kick coming and deflected it so that it connected with his thigh, but it still hurt like hell. Another hard blow landed on his forearm. Had she cracked a bone?

He dodged several more of her blows, and when she connected, he didn’t go down. The pain was actually feeding him now, real pain, a real life-and-death game. It stoked his fury as he danced around her. Morbid and Steem were taunting her, crowding her, waving their arms.

“I’ll remember you,” she shouted at them, a fierce warrior and opponent. “You. You. And especially you, asshole!”

As Scylla watched, Marguerite spun and missed. He saw his chance and chopped the back of her neck with the side of his hand. Then he kicked her legs out from under her.

She was down, crying now, “Why… why?” But then she bounced right up again.

She went at Scylla and smashed a foot into his throat. He went down—and the girl saw a hole to run through, to get away from them.

Steem called to Morbid, “She’s too good for him.” Then he started to laugh. She was getting away, though. So he pulled a gun from his waistband. He shot her in the chest. That knocked her straight back, and she fell over Scylla.