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– Chapter 17–
Mervyn sat on the bench. His hands felt clammy and his stomach fluttered with nerves. A raw metallic taste rose in his mouth -- the taste of fear. He blinked in the dazzling light of the changing cubical. The harsh glare of a bulb reflected off a toilet, a hand basin, and a bench. The smell of fear hit him like a physical presence -- others had passed this way before him. A patched and stained suit hung on a peg. He reached for the suit trying not to think what the stains might be. The suit sagged at the knees and elbow and he had to jog fast, for a full minute, to shrink it to size. Ominously, this suit contained no armoured fields to protect him from the photon ball.
‘Hurry up laddie, we ain’t got all night,’ a harsh voice called from outside – the fight manager.
Mervyn searched for the headgear, ‘Where’s the helmet?’
‘You want protection as well? Wait ‘til I call ya.’
Outside he could hear the roar of a crowd and belatedly realised they were gathering to see him die.
‘Hey, Killer,’ the manager called, ‘we got a real droozal here. He’s just a skinny kid so finish him off fast before the crowd take a shine to him. Plenty of gore -- they’ll lap it up. Here, take this one, I’ve prepared it for you.’
Mervyn stared at his trembling hands. What have I done? Will my blood stain this Swot suit too? He imagined what encouragement his friends might offer. Aurora would give, ‘Come on Merv, pull yourself together, you’re a Misfit. You’re going to go out there, beat him on points, and walk away with that money.’
‘Stay high and keep moving,’ Loren would say as she analysed the situation, ‘Don’t let that ball get you or you’re in trouble,’ then she would give him a hug.
Tarun, of course, would give him a noble look and shake his hand, ‘Go get ‘em,’ he would say with tears in his eye.
Finally the manager’s head appeared round the door, ‘Hey, kid, you’re on.’ A gut wrenching fear suddenly doubled him up and he retched in the toilet pan. After a moment of blind panic, he wiped his mouth, forced himself to stand, and stepped out the door. He was doing this for his friends he reminded himself: if he won they would all escape the Naga, if he lost the others would have just enough money to get themselves off Revlon without him. He crossed the short corridor to the Swot Pool and stood in the doorway. Outside, the oversized sphere heaved with screaming spectators.
The manager clapped him on the back, ‘Ya’ll thrash him, kid. Here, don’ forget ya stanza.’ The manager handed him a double-ended pole-axe and pushed him through the door. Mervyn stared at the sharp bladed weapon trying to work out how to use it. Could he really kill someone with this? For the first time, Mervyn noticed a muscular Rinhus standing in the centre of the pool with thick leathery skin protecting every exposed area: Killer Keno. The Rinhus swirled his stanza expertly: cutting with the axe heads at either end and thrusting with the spear points.
‘Look, ya chop with the edges, hit the ball with the flat heads, and stab with it any way ya like,’ the manager explained. Mervyn looked from the stanza to the manager, ‘You keep it. It’ll only slow me down.’
The rodent gave him an appraising glance, ‘Wise call, kid. What you say your name was?’
‘Mervyn.’
‘Nice knowing ya, Marvin.’
The pool door slammed shut and Killer Keno gave a malicious grin, like a hunter eyeing up its pray.
Loren and Tarun dragged Aurora from the restaurant as they filled her in with the news.
‘Where’s Mervyn? Aurora asked
‘He’s headed back to Bar-None to find Valna,’ Tarun said.
‘If you leave now you never come back,’ the restaurant manager shouted after them.
Aurora tore off her apron and threw it to the manager, ‘Keep it, I am not coming back. Not now, not ever.’ A throng of people tumbled out of bars and restaurants choking the street ahead. The excited crowd poured into Main Street and flooded towards the Swot Pool.
Tarun shouldered his way through the crowd as the friends found themselves battling against the flow, ‘What’s going on?’
‘No idea,’ Loren shouted above the din, ‘but something’s up.’ Aurora stopped a passer-by and asked. ‘Apparently, Killer Keno has another victim. They are going to see the slaughtered.’ She stood stock-still while the crowed buffeted her, ‘You don’t suppose...’
Tarun caught her drift, ‘Nah, Mervyn wouldn’t. Would he?’
Loren turned back immediately, ‘Oh yes he would. This way, quick.’ Together, they ran with the crowed towards the Swot pool.
‘I can’t see anything,’ Loren shouted. ‘There’re just too many people.’
Aurora headed for the turnstiles, ‘Then we will just have to pay for seats.’ Reluctantly Loren followed her.
‘I’ll get these,’ Tarun said producing a debit card and paying for their tickets.
As they climbed the side of the crowded sphere a commentator introduced the contestants, ‘Tonight, for your amazement, we bring you an extraordinary spectacle. In the blue, I give you, Killer Keno -- the Revlon champion -- unbeaten in twenty-six consecutive matches and using his favourite weapon, the stanza.’ The crowd cheered. ‘And in the green -- young, keen, and very mean, I give you, Manic Marvin.’ The crowd roared.
‘Phew, it’s not him,’ Loren signed fighting her way up the sphere.
Aurora forced herself between two spectators, ‘Of course it is, you Muon, they just got his name wrong. I can see him from here.’
Loren pushed her way through, ‘Is that Killer Keno? Hey, he’s got a weapon, you don’t use weapons in swot.’
‘Obviously they do here,’ Aurora muttered. ‘Look, Mervyn’s handed his back. Smart move, Merv. Don’t waste time trying to learn new tricks.’
Contestants, to Strike positions please.’ Loren watched the players leap to their grab handles. The crowd hushed.