Belligerent (Vicara) (4 page)

Alex chuckled. “No, I always place a certain amount on Oz. That's a guaranteed win, so I never get much from it. I bet on other things too to get real credits.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that how it works?”

The very nature of gambling kept him at arm’s reach, as he preferred guaranteed payments and wasn't willing to risk any of his credits. Alex, on the other hand, had never lost a bet in her life. Not the ones that really mattered, at least.

Alex nodded then held up a finger to shush him as the spokesperson began the countdown to the start of the round. Images of the sixteen players being hooked up to the Vicara program flashed across the screen until the countdown ended and the screen flashed to the arena where the teams competed.

The game field was a modern city. Throughout the arena, hover-cars, hover-bikes, and a few helicopters were placed for the players' to use to their advantage. Ryan stared at the vehicles with some interest – vehicles were his trade, after all. The game commenced and the players scattered in all directions. People on the street clapped and cheered as the screen split into four views tracking as many of the competitors as possible at one time.

Ryan watched for a few moments before remembering that he had a job to do. “I'll be right back,” he said while moving the remainder of the funnel cake onto Alex's lap.

She nodded absently and mumbled something that could have been an 'okay'. Her hands immediately tore off a piece of the cake and shoved it into her mouth while keeping her eyes on her tablet. Ryan smiled and shook his head. It was obvious she was too caught up in the game to realize he was going anywhere.

Taking advantage of the crowd's distraction, he effortlessly made his way unnoticed to the car park. Thanks to the large group assembled in the city's center, there was a huge selection to choose from. He made a hover-bike his first selection and after a little work to get it running without the access code, he smirked and climbed atop it.

“One down,” he mumbled to himself while racing down the mostly deserted back streets. Adrenaline filled his body as it always did when he was in the middle of a theft. When he reached the warehouse, he wasn't surprised to find that his heart was racing wildly.

“What did you bring us this time, kid?” Paul asked glancing up from the old television where even he had the game playing. He was dressed like usual in a tank that had seen better days, coveralls that he only had pulled on up to his waist, and a pair of heavy duty gloves that Ryan never saw him without.

“Heard someone wanted a Slipstream,” Ryan said with a smirk.

Paul glanced over the vehicle for a few moments. “Looks good.” He ran a hand over his bald head and nodded. “Taylor!” he hollered.

A ten year old girl glanced up from where she had been hidden away in the corner watching the television. “Yeah?” she grumbled slowly making her way over without glancing away from the screen.

“Mark the Slipstream as one of Ryan's and get started on the tags.”

“How come we have to work on the holidays?” she whined but grabbed a tablet to add another vehicle to Ryan's list.

While Taylor was distracted, Ryan took a moment to speak to Paul. “You've been keeping the little ones off the streets, right?” He kept his voice pitched low in case the girl was trying to eavesdrop like she usually did.

“I've got all the ten year olds hidden safely away until after the collecting season. None of my kids are getting sent to an academy. You know, you should be careful too. There's always room for more Omegas.”

Ryan knew Paul was right. While ten year olds were typically the ones to be collected due to that being the youngest age someone could be legally sent to one of the academies, it wasn't unheard of for an older Commoner to be taken and used as an Omega Belligerent. The latter was a worse fate, as Omega Belligerents never got a chance to enter Vicara to win a pass for freedom and were sent into the arenas with almost no training.

Everyone froze when another car pulled into the warehouse. Collective sighs of relief filled the air when a sixteen year old girl climbed out. She took one look at Ryan and frowned as she said, “Stay away from the west side. That's mine.”

“Don't worry, Izzie. I've got plenty goin’ on my own side of the city.”

Izzie and Ryan had been competing since their first meeting. Paul had hired Ryan back when he was only eight years old and had taught him how to fix just about anything that could go wrong on a car. By the time Ryan was ten and tall enough to reach the pedals and still see over the hood, Paul had him out driving on obstacle courses. At fourteen, Ryan had a reputation for being one of the best car thieves in the area - and Izzie hated him for it.

Izzie's frown deepened. “Taylor, hurry and log me, so I can get back to work,” she said.

“I'm gonna head back out.” Ryan said, but before he left the warehouse he jogged over to Taylor's side. “Here,” he said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tightly wrapped candy apple covered in chocolate and rainbow sprinkles. “From me.” Then he pulled out a betting slip. “And from Alex.”

Taylor smiled for the first time since his arrival. “Thanks! Tell Alex to come see me sometime this week.”

Ryan agreed and ran out of the warehouse. He could hear Izzie following behind him. The worst part of a busy day was running back to the car park between each delivery. He dropped off four more deliveries that day. The other three were from parking garages a little closer to the actual viewing center, meaning it was riskier but typically had a higher payout. He had made enough that day for him and Alex to be comfortable until he could find an underground race to compete in, but he knew that if he could grab at least one additional higher end vehicle they could have a little extra money.

Extra cash meant a chance to relax for a few days.

Ryan stopped in one last car park. He headed to the top level and was shocked at what he found.

“Who would be dumb enough to park a
Zeus
in a Darton car park?” he muttered to himself while stepping closer to the beautiful machine. Deciding not to waste time debating the matter, he quickly set about disabling the car's alarms using equipment he had bought with his last big paycheck. After finishing with the panel and underlying electronics, he was about to climb into the driver's seat when a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“That’s quite enough, kid.”

Ryan spun around and swung a right hook at the stranger's face managing to startle the man enough that he lost his grip. Dodging around him, Ryan took off only to be grabbed by another man.

“Not so fast.”

The first man stepped up and took hold of Ryan's other arm.

Ryan had never been caught before, but he had heard stories from the others who had. His stomach sank as he realized what might happen to him, and he thrashed to free himself of the men's hold.

“Stop struggling, kid.”

“What's going on here?” a third man asked as he approached them.

Ryan recognized him as the Owner from the day before. He was dressed in a suit as the other two were, but there was a huge difference between the tailored, sleek, grey suit the man was wearing and the generic, matching suits that the other two had thrown on.

“We caught him trying to steal your car.”

The Owner stepped forward and looked over the
Zeus
then down at the equipment that Ryan had dropped in the struggle.

He let out a loud guffaw, “So my plan succeeded. Some things are so predictable. How's his work?”

“Neat. There's not even a smudge. He would have succeeded if we hadn't shown up.”

“Does he have a pass?”

Passes kept people from being taken as Belligerents. It was the only thing that kept them safe. A pass was freedom. The men looked at thief, but he kept his gaze on the Owner. Of course, Ryan didn't have a pass. A minor, five year pass cost five hundred thousand credits, and that was more than the average person made in ten years.

The Owner's face lit up in delight when Ryan didn't produce any proof of freedom. “What's your name, kid? Eva wouldn't tell me.”

“It's Ryan,” he muttered.

“No last name?”

Ryan shook his head. “Not one that matters.”

“Good. That's what I like to hear. Well, Ryan, people call me Shifter.”

Ryan thought the name suited him. The man did look shifty, especially with his cold, grey eyes and his unnaturally silver hair.

“It would appear that you're just the person I need at the moment,” Shifter said. “I saw your work yesterday, and I've had some people tracking you today. I'm impressed with what I've seen and I think you'll be a great addition.”

“Addition to what?

“My team.” Shifter gave a grin that made him shudder. “I happen to have a spot open, and I would love for you to fill it.”

“Not a chance,” Ryan said through gritted teeth. One of his worst fears was playing out and his body felt as if it was rejecting every moment.

“Not your choice,” Shifter replied lightly.

Chapter 3

After being abducted in the parking deck, Ryan was placed in a holding cell until it could be confirmed that he had no pass and was actually a Commoner. The uncomfortable holding cell’s walls were so confining, he could touch each side by extending his arms in either direction. He was only allowed from the tiny room for less than two hours a day. After three days in the holding cell, the official paperwork was completed, but there was still one step left before he would be considered an official Belligerent.

“Come on. Time to get up,” a disciplinary squad member gruffly woke Ryan on his third morning at the detention center. Ryan took his time sitting up on his cot, stretching and yawning obnoxiously.

“Little early isn't it? Thought you guys never veered off schedule,” he said, realizing he was already in the worst situation possible. Why hold his tongue now? It wasn’t like the detention goons could affect his fate anyway.

The man didn't fluster or flinch. He simply held the door open and waited for the prisoner to start moving. Anything was better than remaining in the cell, so Ryan refrained from further wisecracks and decided to cooperate. The guard
could
still decide to give him a sound beating.

Three other members of the disciplinary squad were waiting outside the cell to escort the prisoner to wherever it was that he was going. They led him down the brightly lit hallways, past several other holding cells and the cafeteria, and to an area of the detention center that he hadn’t seen during his stay.

Ryan watched as one of his escorts swiped a card outside the entrance to a small hallway. The door beeped, then swung open, and Ryan was ushered in followed by only one of the disciplinary squad members.

There were only two rooms in the hallway, and there were no windows or other escape routes except for the door they had entered though which was being watched by the rest of his burly entourage.

Ryan was taken into the closest room which looked like an infirmary that had been taken over by holographic monitors. Seated in front of one of the monitors, watching the news, was a scrawny, elderly man dressed in a lab coat.

“Delivery,” the disciplinary squad member announced as if she were a postal worker and Ryan was some package to be delivered.

The man spun around in his chair. “Who do we have here?” he asked with a surprisingly friendly smile.

“Candidate for Shifter's team,” she replied. The man grabbed for a tablet and after glancing at it for a few moments, addressed them again.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a nod, nerves creeping into overdrive as he noticed all the medical devices placed around the room. Despite his best efforts, sweat formed on his brow.

“I'm Dr. March. Looks like you're here for a first time band.”

Ryan didn't reply. He clasped his right wrist with his left hand to keep his arms from shaking. A band? No. No, no, no.

To his surprise, Dr. March addressed the disciplinary squad member next. “You can leave now.”

The guard stepped out of the room but not before flashing a look of warning. The unspoken threat was as clear as it had been his entire stay:
try to run and we will take you down.

“Okay, Ryan, let's get started.”

It wasn't so terrible at first. Ryan was weighed and measured. His eye color and hair color were marked down on a chart. His finger was pricked and a small sample of his blood was taken. Dr. March whistled an unknown tune between each test as he reached for instruments or his tablet. Just as his nerves began to settle, things unraveled when the doctor pulled out a tray of syringes.

“First, we're going to test you for any allergies.”

“I don't have any,” Ryan quickly assured.

“You may have an allergy to something you've never been exposed to before,” the doctor said as he lifted one of the larger syringes filled with a thick substance. “Left arm, please.”

Ryan hesitated, and the doctor's grin faded. “Please don't make me call in reinforcements. It's far easier if you cooperate, son.”

Ryan's eyes flickered to the door then back to the doctor before he slowly held out his arm. “Will it hurt?”