SUBJECT // 'keyless' eli hart // valkan bagman //

THEORY POTENTIAL // shadowed //

She hasn't seen me. Not yet. I don't buy the winsome-innocent-in-a-blue-dress act for a second, she's got something going on behind those big green eyes. Part of the reason I'm following her. Part of the reason I'm keeping my knives loose in their sheaths. Not much going on in this part of the city, not at this hour, sun losing the sky, fruit sellers packing up, tall-hatted diplomats hurrying to catch their whores. First in first served, that's the law around here. Part of the reason I'm in a hurry. That girl's got at least three others on her. Need to get to her first, or I'm in for the kind of trouble you do whatever it takes to dodge. I'm closest, at least. Always been good at that. Getting close. Some say that ain't the way to do. I figure, long as you can handle it, long as it doesn't stop you doing what needs be done, well ... what's the harm?

She's into an alley quicker than I would've credited her—more than she seems, but what isn't in this city. I wait till the last moment to follow, give the goon on my heels something to wake him up. Half-glance back to catch the twitch of a reaction on his face, that moment of choice; he can follow me now and give the game away, or go around the block and keep his mask. Someone must be paying him proper, because he doesn't even slow. Who's behind that one, Don Scullion maybe? Shouldn't have done that thing with his daughter. Then again, see a chance, take a chance.

The alley's dim, yellow stone gone brown. Green-eyes-blue-dress isn't in sight. Not a problem. These alleys aren't as twisted as they look, seems like you got a dozen choices but really—

"I don't like being stalked."

So she got the drop on me. So she got a knife to my neck. So her accent's got a touch of that Stiltian twang, means she grew up hard, means she won't think twice about cutting the throat of some shifty-eyed stranger been following her—

"Kayla, my name's Eli Hart. I was hired to protect you."

Just enough truth in that to stay her hand, at least till she gets the whole story out of me. Can't see her, but I can hear her thinking. Smell her perfume, too. Add the pretty dress, add the makeup, add the way she walked down that street like some kind of lady and you get a girl running as far as she can from the swamps and blood she grew up in. She doesn't want to be hard.

One more thing. Knife ain't to my throat. It's to the side.

"You know there's others on you?" I say. "Three at least."

"Four counting you," she murmurs, her breath on the back of my neck. "So I should kill you now and move on."

"Sure," I say. "And your daddy'd be proud of you for it."

Hesitation. Perfect. If I had the time I could talk her around. Problem is, don't got the time. Need to make a move before—

"Well, well, well. Is this the first time I've seen you so compromised, Hart? And perhaps the last, judging by the look on that young lady's face."

I hear the girl take a sharp breath. Just took one myself, if I'm honest. Didn't expect Scullion to show up personal. Especially not here and now. Must've really pissed him off. Looks like he's alone but that's a lie. He's got at least a dozen goons with him. Just can't see 'em.

"Okay," I mutter, to the girl. "This just got serious—"

There's the pulse of an impact and red shadows engulf Scullion. Things get real dark real fast, can't see the alley, can't see the sky. Feel closed in. Some kind of magic, gotta be, Scullion's cursed? Never heard that, didn't think him the type—nah, not him, one of his guys. The knife's gone from my neck but I can still smell that perfume, appledew and honey.

Right. Because now's the time to be thinking about how good a girl smells.

She ain't here, I know that. Not close anyway. Nothing around, except maybe something moving in the darkness. Big and slow and red. Can't make out details. What the hell is this? Some kind of shifting maybe, getting shoved from one place to another, heard 'bout that from that guy, what the hell was his name—but yeah, again, time and a place, Eli, time and a place. You been through weird crap before. You'll get through weird crap again.

"Hello. You have been chosen."

Woman's voice, not the girl, older maybe, Amarantic accent? Dunno, got weird echoes to it, can't tell where it's coming from—

"Aren't you lucky."

Can't see anything behind, nothing to the sides, too dark, just that big red thing in front of me, what the hell is that?

"Now I don't wish to panic you, but you're in quite the precarious situation."

Starting to get a real bad feeling.

"Would that it could be otherwise."

Not that I was feeling good about it before.

"So it's kill or be killed, I'm afraid."

Yeah, this is bad.

"I wonder, will you be a sacrifice? Or will you be a survivor?"

This is so real bad.

"Anyway. Welcome to Death Theory."

Knives out of sheaths, hard in my hands. Something's coming. Not gonna get me off guard.

"Today, your life begins."

Rush of hot damp wind and there's stone under my feet, dull grey light, some black thing scuttling forward—

"Nuh!"

Crack and squelch as my knife crunches through—insect, some kind of beetle, bigger than my damn head, where the hell is this? Muur? Stilt? Sure as hell ain't Valk! Don't matter, just get the knife out of that stinking beetle, white goo sticking to the blade and a stench like rotting weeds, no time to wipe because there's more of the damn things—and other stuff, feels like I'm in mist but I can see okay, seems like it's clearing, there's a wind blowing hot and wet and hard. Lot of shadows around, some big, some not so big. People? Dunno. Can't tell. Can't assume. None of 'em close to me. Good, time to think, time to look around. Insects scuttling past my feet but they ain't biting or nothing. Just moving. No sign of the girl, can't even smell her. There's some big tall building way the hell over there, whole place feels open but there's walls or something like a giant bowl, big broken steps and big broken pillars, whole place got a feel to it like I dunno, like somewhere I been—Wyrne. That damn monster arena.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

My ears pop with a burst of hard noise, didn't even realise I couldn't hear, now it's beetles clicking and steel on steel and steel on flesh and screaming from everywhere. Yeah, this is an arena all right. 'Death Theory', but what the hell's that supposed to mean?

Doesn't matter. That monster arena in Wyrne had seats all around but there were like stairways, trapdoors, ways to get monsters up to the fighting part. Could be the smart direction is down. Gotta move anyway. Keep moving, keep thinking. Dunno why I'm here and dunno what the deal is but hell, could say that about any damn day of my fucking life.

Big shadows that way, lot of shadows that way, just one over this way but it's small, crouched over, maybe a girl ... maybe THE girl. So she's here too, huh? Might just come out of this on top. Got a reputation, after all. Need a job done right? Eli Hart's your man, every time.

She's on her knees. Can't handle this place? Nuh, that ain't it. There's some guy on the ground, Amarantic soldier judging by the armour. Wounded. She's helping 'em?

Heh. Wrong again.

"Stay back there," she says, before turning those big green eyes on me. Long thin knife in her hand, freshly bloodied. Guy on the ground is already dead. "I don't know what this is but if it's kill or be killed I'm not taking the second option."

"Kayla, look—"

"Don't use my name," she says, slow rising, knife ready. "You said you were hired to protect me but that's a lie. There's no one who cares enough about me to pay for my protection."

There's a fresh wave of screams and a fresh wave of insects around our feet. Kayla keeps her eyes on me. Doesn't so much as glance down. Gotta keep upping my estimation of this one.

"Okay, real talk," I say, raising my voice over the screams behind me. "I wasn't hired. Just got asked. Woman by the name of Demesne."

Kayla's jaw clenches at the name. I resist the urge to glance back. Those screams are getting closer.

"And it wasn't protection, exactly. More like retrieval."

"I am not going back to her." Kayla takes a step towards me, knife raised. "I am NOT going back to her."

"So maybe we figure something out. Any case, seems like we got a thing to get through before any of that matters."

Kayla glances past me then turns and runs. I launch into a sprint without looking back, my boots haven't even hit the ground before I hear high giggling behind me followed by a scream, don't know what the hell's back there and I don't wanna know, just gotta run, just—

"Ugh—"

Flash of light and heat and grey sky and grey stone as I roll and roll and roll, gods-damned demon-sucking witch-licking cursed bitch, that's what's behind me, a filthy little bandaged psychopath with wide eyes and a happy grin who traded hell knows what for some kind of fire magic. I'm scrabbling back as she raises her charred hands but can't see an exit, too close, too open, can't do nothing but watch as a dozen dark shards thud into her side, throwing her across the stone in a shower of gore. I'm up before I can look to see where the damn things came from, doesn't matter, got given a chance, doesn't matter what from, waiting around to see what happens next gets you dead—

"MORE! MORE!"

Too damn close, shouting came from the left but I can't see nothing, this damn shifting mist, just shadows and flashes of flame and lightning and aether sparks and whatever, cursed powers, could be I'm the only damned soul here who ain't got a curse—something big there, swear it's stuffing a body into a sack—just keep running, dunno where to but sometimes just away is enough—glimpse of colour in the grey, bright blue, can't risk calling but she can't run in that dress, not proper, not like I'm running and oh hope and truth am I running. I follow her as she switches directions, head to the left because there's something coming from the right. Hear it more than see it, thudding footsteps, something big, something fast, Kayla's ahead but that dress is slowing her down, I'm gonna overtake her in maybe a dozen steps but whatever's chasing us is gonna do the same to me—still, don't gotta be faster than the bear, yeah? And what do I owe her? She's a job, gonna have to face up to Demesne if I go back without her but hell, way things are going I'll be lucky to get that chance.

I draw level with Kayla, hear her heavy breathing, catch a whiff of that damn perfume. Mist is clearing again, we're near the edge of the arena, there's pillars and high walls and maybe a way out, just gotta get away, just gotta buy that chance—catch a glimpse of the thing behind, a hulking mottled brown monster. Lizardman maybe, like you hear stories about down in Muur. Kind of wish I hadn't seen it. Kind of wish I hadn't heard so many damn stories. Stuff like how they'll rip your leg off then bandage the wound, keep you dying slow 'cause they like their meat fresh.

Yeah. Too many stories.

The pillars are close, just a couple dozen metres away, big wall behind 'em but maybe a chance, the thing behind us is fast enough in a straight line but it's big and heavy, like them new steam carriages, speedy as you like until they gotta turn. I catch myself grinning as I pull ahead of Kayla, glance back just in time to see her gasp and fall, tripped on that stupid dress. See the lizardman hiss and leap, see it come crashing down with those fucking claws. See the girl roll and strike at its leg, see her draw a spurt of thick red blood.

Thing doesn't slow. Doesn't hiss. Doesn't do nothing but stamp on Kayla's arm. She screams but she ain't out of it, lost her knife and that hand ain't doing nothing for a while but she's rolling again, dodging the thing's heavy claws. I realise I ain't running, just standing and watching as the thing goes after her, she's trying to get up into a run but it ain't happening, she ain't got the chance and that's all she needs, just a second of distraction—

I hear her scream again as the lizard stomps down on her back. Didn't kill her. Maybe didn't even break anything. Just keeping her pinned as it crouches, reaches down to get her by the arm—

"Hell with it," and I lose my left knife in a vicious toss as I run towards the hulking lizard—hilt whacks it in the back of the head, I draw a replacement as it turns towards me. Get my first good look at the thing, half again my height, arms twice as thick, big lizard head and spiky lizard teeth, naked but for a couple of bright blue feathers. It's staring at me with vicious little slitted eyes, tongue flicking in and out, big fuck off tail twitching in time. Still got the girl pinned. She ain't moving, can't see her face, just gotta hope she ain't dead or knocked out, gotta hope she can take the chance I'm buying her—

The thing takes a swipe at me. The thing's quick. But I'm just that little bit quicker. There's an inch of air between its claws and my stomach. Not so much between my blade and its arm. The lizard's second strike comes closer, but just barely. This time I leave my blade in its wrist, little present, little reminder not to fuck with Eli Hart. Manage to get another knife out before it lunges again, but I guessed right and it ain't about to give up its prize 'less it has to, keeps one foot on the girl, means I can dance about it and give it a nick here and a scratch there as I please. Big thing like that got a lot of blood, but it's gonna bleed out eventually. Lesson I learned way back. You can be strong and that's all well and good, but if you're quick and if you're patient there ain't a fight you can't win.

Unless you're outnumbered.

Hear it come up behind me. No time to do anything but hurl myself to the side, catch a claw to the arm that spins me into the ground. I throw my weight into a hard roll, lose both my knives but come out rightside up, crouched and panting and staring at these two bloody things. They ain't got proper mouths or lips or nothing but I swear the dirty fuckers are grinning at me.

Risk a half-glance to the side. Pillars are close. Maybe close enough to make it, if I run now. If I run.

One knife left, old and thin and sharp as vinegar. They let me draw it. The one with its foot on the girl gives her a little weight, squeezes a cry out of her. Least I know she's still breathing. Least I know this ain't for nothing. I'm losing some blood where that claw caught me but my arm's working okay. Ain't feeling faint. Ain't seeing spots. Just hurt enough to be at my sharpest. Good place to be.

I'm in close before the damn things can blink, already dodging as I slash, feel my lucky knife slice through flesh, these things are big and scaly but—

"Uh."

Lucky escape, first one came at me, left the girl, didn't expect that, felt it clip my arm but that's all it was, just a clip, doesn't even hurt. They come at me again but I'm already away, stepping back and tripping, unbalanced, something's wrong, something's so damned wrong—

My arm's off. My damned arm's off and I can't even—didn't even—can't find my damn knife, last one, bad luck to lose 'em all, never happened before. Dunno why but I'm flat on my back. No time to be lying around but I can't get up. Something heavy on my chest keeping me down. I try to cough but can't. Can't see the girl. Can't see nothing. Can't remember—nuh, no, can't forget