That last wouldn’t help her much, other than tell her to avoid the joint itself. She wouldn’t be able to break it. But... it did mean there would be weak spots in the limb both above and below, where the replacement had been grafted onto the real bone.
“You fucking bitch!” he hissed, turning and aiming a kick at her side. She danced out of the way to avoid getting hit. She could take a few from him, but not many, and she certainly couldn’t afford to get taken to the ground. If that happened, he’d easily pin her, and the match was over.
“Oh, change the record!” she snarled, feinting with a high kick on the left. As expected, he swiped for her leg with his arm, trying to snarl her up. She hadn’t fully extended, so she snapped the foot back and out again, catching him right in the nose.
Bone crunched and blood splattered down his face. He staggered back, hands over his face as he howled in pain.
When he met her eyes, his were bloodshot. “You’ll pay for that,” he hissed.
That was when she saw it. His pupils went from pin-pricks to fully blown in the space of a heartbeat. Her eyes widened. Shit. He was juiced. Even in an illegal match that was illegal. All the fighters drug tested before they stepped into the ring. He must have subdermal implants rigged ready to dump the stuff into his system when he needed it.
Which meant she was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. He wouldn’t feel pain or stop for injury. With juice in his system, he would fight until he’d ruined his body and his heart gave out.
Backpedaling, she reassessed her strategy while he roared and played up to the crowd, smearing the blood from his face all over his arms.
He dropped his head and grinned at her, his teeth covered in blood and a feral light in his eyes. When he charged, she knew that was it. She either stepped up, or she died. Right here. Right now.
She waited, staying in place until she could practically smell his fetid breath across her face. All her survival instincts screamed at her, but she stayed still until the very last moment and then ducked to the side. The hard ball of her fist caught him in the front of his throat, but she was already gone before he could react. Sliding under his arm, she used the back of his calf as a stepping stone to slam her elbow down into the back of his neck, where the skull met the spine. He stopped, pulled up short by the dual assault as he clutched at the front of his throat, but she didn’t stop moving. Running across the cage behind him, she bounced off the wall and flip-turned. Looping a leg around his neck, she used him as a swing, throwing her weight viciously to the other side. Her thighs clamped tightly and the grisly crunch of breaking bone filled the air.
She gasped as they both dropped to the floor and then pushed the cooling body off her, standing to the roars of the crowd. She’d done it. She’d beaten Rell and won the prize pot, but since Rell was Vasa’s man, she’d condemned herself to death at the same time.
She was finally free. If she could stay alive long enough to get off the planet.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a drink?” Sallac asked as she shrugged her jacket on. He hovered by the door of the changing room, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of venturing further. She didn’t blame him. He’d sought the link with her, but now Vasa would be gunning for her. Being in her company wasn’t the safest place on the planet.
She shook her head as she stuffed her fight clothes into her pack. Her credit chip lay on top. The new figure on the front made her smile grimly. Fight prizes were always in unregistered credits. If they weren’t, she would have been screwed because she had no doubt that Vasa had called in favors, and any credit attached to her name was already revoked.
Her fingertips brushed the hidden pocket of her bag holding her new identity papers and the chameleon mask that would fool any facial rec programs long enough for her to get through the streets. All she had to do was reach the spaceport and book passage on any cheap cruiser heading out of the system with a return ticket, even though it would cost her more. A one-way ticket would automatically arouse suspicion.
“No, I’m good. I just want to get out of here and go home. Get some rest,” she lied smoothly. Everything she needed was in her pack. Everything still in her habit-pod was expendable. Nothing left behind would lead to either her old or her new life. She smiled at Sallac as she walked toward the door, slinging her pack over her shoulder.
“Why don’t you head on up to the winner’s lounge, take advantage of the free drinks. They’ve got you down as one of my staff. Right? You and Hinge?” She’d had to list someone on the official forms, so Sallac and his buddy had been it. They might as well get something out of walking her down to the cages all this time.
“Yeah? You sure?” He perked up.
Entrance to the winner’s lounge was nothing to sniff at. Food and drink up there was free and plentiful. More than that, it was top-quality stuff, one meal packing in more nutrition than a month of the junk anyone in Sector 4-B could afford. It boasted actual meat and vegetables, rather than factory grown proteins and fungi masquerading as something edible.
“Knock yourself out.” She nodded. “And make sure to get a doggy-bag to take home. Okay?”
“Awesome, I will. Thank you.” He held the door open for her. “Thanks, Ms. Heath. See you for the next fight.”
She winked over her shoulder. “See you on the flip side.”
Walking out the door, she took a deep breath as the coldness of the night air hit her. She’d never see Sallac again. Pity. He was a nice guy.
Pulling the hood of her jacket up against the chill and the drizzle, she shoved her hands in her pockets and started walking. Her breath plumed on the air, her heart rate above normal. As always, she kept to the shadows and doubled back on herself in case someone was tailing her. It was a routine as easy to her as breathing, but right now, it had never been more important. The last thing she wanted was anyone following her as she headed toward the space dock.
Halfway there, she paused and stepped into a dark alleyway. For a moment she froze in the darkness, all her senses expanded. Even for Sector 4-B this was a rough area, but she was here for a reason.
Satisfied no one had followed her or was watching, she stopped and stripped off her jacket. Stuffing it in a nearby bin, she pulled a top from her pack. It was black with long sleeves that covered her hands. Sliding it on, she altered the shoulder strap of her pack so she could carry it across her body. Finally, she put on the chameleon mask, hidden in a pair of UV-filter glasses. Most people wore them if they couldn’t afford the meds to make up for the sector’s dodgy shields.
Smiling, she stepped out of the alley. The change of clothing was small but significant, hopefully enough to slough off the Natalia Heath identity and take up the one on the new papers in her pocket. Krista Marks was as far from Nat as she could get. Her new history had her down as a xenosystems analyst for one of the big Pharma industries, specializing in utilizing native flora for food production. Definitely not an illegal cage fight champion and part-time waitress.
Striding toward the docks, she took a more direct route. No one had followed her. She was sure of it. Already she could taste that recycled air on the cruiser as she left this godforsaken system for new "shores." Once she hit the main space trade routes, she’d switch vessels and head to the outer systems. They were always advertising for colonists. She could make a new life out there without anyone asking too many questions.