The Battle Begins (17 page)

36

“W
ELCOME BACK,
M
ONIACS!
W
E'RE ALREADY UP TO THE
second week in our newest unnnnbelievable Unnaturals season!” Castor heard the announcer's voice echo.

He took slow, shallow breaths, inhaling the musky scent of burlap and trying not to overheat. It was just like before—the jostling by the handlers, the sack over his head, the dull roar of the crowd as the elevator eased to a stop—and Castor was having a hard time not having a panic attack when he thought about his fight with Deja.

But this was going to be different. This time, a friendly face awaited him on the other side of the door.

“Next up, get ready for a flight to remember and an elephant who never forgets! The Underdog, one of Team Scratch's newest additions, is here to take on the towering Enforcer!”

The muffled announcement was his cue, and Castor got into position. He stepped back with his right legs for balance and readied himself into a crouch. Muscles quivering with tension, he waited for the signal. The doors swung open and his blindfold was torn off; the bell dinged . . .

And Castor froze.

They'd gone over this. They'd rehearsed the routine all day yesterday, so he'd know exactly what to expect. He was supposed to spring forward into the Dome, fierce and wild and looking every bit like the valiant fighter he had been on the dock that day in Lion's Head.

But when he heard that bell, Castor was brought right back to his last match with Deja. He saw flashes of her fangs, a blur of butterfly wings, a flick of the rattle. Her cold, merciless eyes. He'd thought that was going to be a friendly fight, too.

Castor felt a kick at his hindquarters, and a shove from Horace brought him back to the moment.

He wasn't sure how long ago Samken had thundered out of the opposite gate, but the octo-elephant was rounding past him now, and his friend must've seen the look on Castor's face, because he gave him a reassuring wink.

Castor let out a breath. It was fake. Just like with Jazlyn. He was safe.

The performance was on.

The big bull elephant stomped around dramatically across the arena, grunting in mock fury. Samken really knew how to work the crowd—by the time he finally started his solo stampede, he had most of them shouting his name.

Now it was Castor's time to shine.

Samken was about to charge a second time and, just before he hit the eagle-dog, Castor would suddenly take flight and wow them all.

There was just one problem: he'd spent most of yesterday flying as they rehearsed, and though his mind had the routine down pat, his wings appeared to be completely useless. The muscles were sore and stiff from overuse. Of course, Castor didn't discover this until the very last minute, when Samken was kicking up dust just a few feet away from him.

Instead of wowing the crowd with unexpected flight,
they stunned them with a head-on collision.

Castor was more stunned than anyone.

The full force of Samken's two-ton body had slammed into him and, for a minute or so, he was actually unconscious. When Castor opened his eyes again, three giant heads were hovering over him, and there seemed to be tentacles everywhere. If Castor squinted hard enough, he could make the three elephant heads come together.

“Castor, I'm sooo sorry.” Fat tears were running down Samken's cheeks. “I didn't mean to do that at all. I thought you were going to fly, like we talked about! Why didn't you fly?”

“Tried . . . ,” Castor wheezed. He was so dizzy he felt nauseated. “Can't . . .”

Then the buzzing sound started. Horace was pushing the red button.

“Don't—”

Samken's high voice turned into a gurgle as he was zapped, and Castor could feel the bump on his head pulsing with each charge of his collar. Once it stopped, Samken rolled his eyes, like they were still rattling around in his head.

“Oof. Is that what they meant by ‘singing the body electric'?” Samken groaned. “FAME!” he bellowed. When Castor looked at him blankly, he rolled his eyes.
“Didn't they have music in those sad streets of yours? They did at my zoo. Come on, the fans await!”

A voice asked over the loudspeakers, “Will the Enforcer unleash his tentacled wrath on the Underdog, as he did on the Swift?”

Samken glanced up at the floating announcer woman. “We'd better get moving. Ready, Castor? Let's try it again, this time just like we rehearsed—I run, you fly.”

Before Castor could even mumble an objection, the octo-elephant took off for a third pass around the arena. Castor felt like he hardly took half a breath before the ground under his feet shook with Samken's fast-approaching feet.

Castor couldn't survive another hit, and he couldn't stand another shock. He needed to get out of this Dome, and there was only one direction he could go. He heard Pookie's voice telling him,
Up!

“Now!” Samken shouted a warning so they wouldn't crash again.

Ignoring the throbbing in his skull, Castor jumped as high as he could, snapping his wings out to the sides. This time, amazingly, they caught him. He was hovering, then flapping.

He was flying!

But thanks to the bump on his head, Castor couldn't
seem to remember where he was supposed to go. He swooped in awkward circles. He veered to the far edges of the Dome. He nearly crashed into the crowded stands. He might've been flying, but he was way off script.

Luckily, Samken was good at improv. Each time Castor careened over him, Samken acted like he was trying to jump up and grab him. And whenever Castor nearly dive-bombed into the sand, Samken kicked his feet up like he was about to be tackled at the knees. The result was a dancing, many-trunked goliath that looked like a circus clown and a flying dog that could've been a toy airplane running low on batteries.

The fans might not have been wowed, exactly, but they were laughing like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.

“‘Fame! I'm gonna live forever,'” Samken sang under his breath as the humans stomped their feet on the tinny bleachers and cheered their approval at the end of the match. “‘I'm gonna learn how to fly. . . .'”

The grand finale was Castor spiraling in circles, dodging Samken's flailing tentacles as the octo-elephant rammed into the arena wall and feigned a knockout.

Though Castor had escaped the Dome mostly unscathed after his match with Samken, he still had an egg-sized
bump on his head that needed to be looked at. The medic strapped him to a gurney, but when he rolled him past the holding pen, Castor saw Laringo. He could see the tiger-scorpion's muscles quivering with tension beneath his stripes. His head was alert, his ice-blue eyes already glued on Team Scratch's door across the field, searching for his prey.

Castor's heart skipped a beat.

Enza's match was about to begin.

As Pete rolled him through a doorway, Castor bucked and barked and wedged his legs in the door so the gurney wouldn't move.

“Laringo!” he howled, trying to get the scorpion-tiger's attention from the other side of those high stadium walls.

He'd told Enza to remember who she was, and he wasn't sure if Laringo could do the same. But to break Laringo's concentration and give Enza any sort of fighting chance, it was worth a shot.

“Laringo, listen to me!” Castor barked insistently. “You told Enza she didn't want to be like you, but you can change. Think of the cub you were before the scientists, before the serum. Before the humans made you fight. You can go back to him, you can be the brave beast he would want you to be. You don't have to do this!”

But then the door closed in front of Castor, and the opportunity was gone. Laringo had to have heard Castor. But Laringo hadn't even turned his head. His cold, blue-eyed gaze awaited Enza.

37

A
S THE
I
NVINCIBLE STEPPED INTO THE RING,
L
EESA HELD
her breath. Last season's Mash-up was still a touchy subject, and you could feel the tension building in the Dome.

Everyone had been laughing and cheering together during the Underdog's match against the Enforcer, but now scuffles began in the stands, and howls of excitement had turned into snarls of unrest. Team Scratch and Team Klaw fans alike were out for blood.

That was one thing the Invincible could be counted on to deliver.

Today he was fighting the Fearless, and Leesa was worried about the newbie. Really worried. After seeing the majestic grizzly-tiger close-up, Leesa couldn't bear to watch her get torn apart.

Though the Fearless and the Invincible were both part tiger, it was by no means an even match. The younger mutant was heavier and stood taller, but the veteran had unrivaled speed and ferociousness, and a formidable track record that included a long list of deceased opponents.

Leesa knew she had the best seats in the house from up on the light post, but right now, she wished she could see less.

“This should be over quick,” Antonio said.

Leesa ignored him. Things had been tense between them since that day in the training center. Lately, he seemed either deliberately cool or like he was trying to find new ways to annoy her. Today he'd brought jalapeño zingers and hadn't offered her a single one. She didn't care, though; her stomach felt too queasy from the match, anyway.

The bell sounded, and the Invincible was on the offensive from the very start.

He prowled forward with quick strides, his scorpion tail held high and ready to strike.

Across the arena, the grizzly had crouched her big body low to the ground. At first, it looked like a defensive pose, but as Leesa noticed the tense shoulder muscles, and the way the bear had risen on the balls of her broad hind feet, she realized it was actually an offensive position. The Fearless looked ready to pounce.

“She's not running away,” Leesa whispered, leaning forward from her perch on the platform as the champion neared the center of the ring.

Almost all the Invincible's opponents tried to evade him for as long as possible, flying or galloping or slithering around the arena until time ran out. Few actually had the guts to face him.

The grizzly-tiger wasn't just going to hold her ground, either; now she was running to meet him.

“Maybe she really is fearless.”

Beside her, Antonio shrugged. “Either that or just stupid.”

When they clashed in the middle, they looked like two big cats batting at each other's necks and faces. Instead of playful cuffs, though, long claws tore and tusklike teeth gnashed.

The Fearless stood up on her hind legs, trying to
make the most of her height, but it just made it easier for the Invincible to swipe at her middle. The Fearless let out a ferocious grizzly growl, crashing forward onto four legs. The wound was deep—that was obvious from her shorter movements and wincing steps.

The Fearless tried to lash back at the white tiger, but her bulk made her too slow, and he was already behind her, his barbed tail stabbing forward over his head. When the stinger struck her shoulder, the sound the Fearless made this time was more howl than growl. She gnashed her giant saber teeth, but the pain on her face was obvious, and you could almost see her hopeless realization that her height and her sharp teeth were no match for the poison that laced the Invincible's stinger.

“She can survive,” Leesa said aloud to reassure herself. “Like Pookie.”

“Right . . . ,” Antonio muttered.

“What?” Leesa jerked her gaze away from the dueling Unnaturals to look at him. She'd been so absorbed in the fight she'd forgotten he was even there with her. “Pookie had the guts to face the Invincible, too, and he survived,” she repeated, annoyed. “We both saw that match, and we agreed it looked like he won, actually, no matter what the official call said. Remember?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Antonio sighed. “I know what we saw.” He ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair, reslicking it. “But it doesn't matter, Lees. They end up dead in the end, anyway, don't you see that? All these loaded cloud kids pay good money for it.”

Leesa's jaw tightened, but she didn't answer him. Instead, she reached into her bag for her paperback from Ms. Hoiles, which had become a tactile reassurance when she was upset. She knew it was stupid and babyish, but just holding it close to her made her feel like Pookie was nearer somehow.

But it wasn't there.

“Did you move my book?” Leesa asked in alarm.

“Nope.” Antonio shrugged, unconcerned.

Her talisman gone, and her hope fading, Leesa's empty stomach tightened with worry.

The Invincible had the Fearless pinned beneath him now, his white-striped paw pressed on the grizzly's throat. He raised his scorpion's tail up slowly behind him, the translucent membrane curling forward. Leesa couldn't be sure but Laringo seemed to be letting the grizzly-tiger lash at him, drawing out the last few moments of the fight for fun.

Why wasn't anyone doing anything?

Leesa looked around at the handlers and guards.
Everyone knew what the Invincible was capable of—they'd all been at the Mash-up. Why weren't they stepping in?

Up in the box seats in the upper balcony, she could see Mayor Eris through one of the glass windows—her long, burgundy hair was easy to pick out.

“She could stop it,” Leesa said bitterly. “Instead, she's just sitting up in her box, watching the money roll in.”

Antonio popped the last jalapeño zinger into his mouth. He looked amused, which annoyed her even more. “And what about you? You're always talking about how things need to change,” she said bitterly. “But all you are is talk, just like everyone else.”

“Don't worry, Vince and me are on it.” Antonio flashed a mischievous grin and flicked a pocket lighter a few times while wiggling his eyebrows. “One day we'll blow all these sky dwellers up, just for you—a revolution!”

Leesa looked at Antonio uneasily. Lately, she couldn't tell whether he was joking when he said scary stuff like that—stuff that sounded exactly like something Vince would say. That was Vince's lighter, too, she noticed, watching the flame dance. She wondered when Antonio had started carrying it.

If only the Fearless had fire,
Leesa thought, looking
back down at the ring.
Then she might have a way out of this match.

Abruptly, Leesa stood up on the platform, struck by a sudden idea. She snatched her messenger bag, and Antonio looked at her quizzically.

“Come on!” she shouted at him, already climbing down the ladder.