Limbo overtook my senses once more and the pain of my wounds ebbed away momentarily. I didn’t know the permanence of damage endured during a given round. Part of me hoped that it was all temporary and I would be restored to full vitality after a round victory.

This time I generated in the bed of what appeared to be a clinic, not the bustling streets of the courtyard my first visit to the Hub had greeted me with. Dust caked in the corners of the cramped room. A row of cots propped up by rusted frames lined the wilting sheet metal walls. Several contestants in various degrees of injury and consciousness stirred under green cotton blankets.

My naive hope was ill-founded. Though I had several bandages wrapped around my trunk and appendages, I could still feel the effects of last round's injuries. I struggled to sit up, and a red wave of nausea sent me crashing back down to my mattress. My eyes swam in my head as I helplessly gazed at the yellow fluorescent lights above.

“Keep still, damnit. You’ll rip your stitches.” A man rolled over on a coral-cushioned stool with three wheels. He wore a pale suit caked in splatters of blood. He held a clipboard in hand and a blue mask covered the lower half of his face. When he leaned over me, I could see the edges of a gray handlebar mustache poking out from under his covering.

“Who are you…?” I groaned at the man by my bedside.

“Doctor Crass. And I don’t give a damn who you are, it’s just my job to save your worthless life.”

He checked my vitals on a monitor screen to the left of my gurney. A few scribbled notes and the click of a pen later, the doctor whirled about on his chair and scooted off. What a bizarre fellow.

Well, that answered my question. I had to heal the old-fashioned way; the BIOS system wasn’t going to do it for me.

I traced my index finger around the coin in my pocket reflexively. That round had been far too close of a call. The Dralid was a much better fighter than me, but I could have played my advantages in a more refined way. I had ranged weapons and explosives while she only had a measly dagger. There was no excuse for allowing myself to take this much damage up close. Who knew how long I would be waylaid in this run-down clinic, or what sub-standard medical procedures “Dr. Crass” was about to perform on me?

But a sense of pride welled up within me nonetheless. How many years had that woman trained with the blade to slaughter guys like me with ease? I hopped into this virtual arena a few days ago and I just blew her to kingdom come.

I slapped the intrusive feeling aside. Had I been a second slower throwing that grenade my entrails would be decorating that metro station. This was a wake-up call for me. To survive, I would have to learn from every fight and grow stronger - I was already leagues behind everyone else in this competition.

I looked around for the good doctor, but he had disappeared behind a velvet drape hooked haphazardly in the only doorway that led out of the sick room. Privacy curtains were available to use but only one patient had elected to slide his brown tarp across the track it was rooted in to conceal himself.

A man coughed nearby and I unconsciously tugged my blanket over my mouth. What if someone had contracted some kind of deadly disease in their round and spread it to the others here? What kind of professional medical service was this?

The only light in the room came from three bulbs suspended tenuously by thin black wires. In the sallow illumination I spotted flecks of dust and who knows what else dripping from the ceilings.

There were no open windows in the sick-bay - the ribbed wooden shutters on the window frames in the front and rear of the room had been bolted shut. This lent to the already stuffy atmosphere my wounded compatriots and I found ourselves in.

In a cot two beds down from me, I caught sight of a familiar cloaked figure. The pudge of his face as he turned over in his groggy daze confirmed it.

“Terry! What the devil are you doing here?”

An audible groan escaped the bounty hunter’s lips.

“Same as you I’d imagine. Trying not to bleed out in this delightful corner of hell.” He turned over on his side to face his other neighbor.

“There aren’t any hard feelings from the first round, right? At any rate, you appear to be doing alright.” I tried to extend a hand over the shaky ground our “relationship” was founded on.

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Terrence didn’t reply.

I wasn’t going to let him go that easily.

“I count two gunshot-wounds there. How’d a bounty collector like you get those?” The holes in his cloak were caked with burnt blood the same hue as the blast marks. Lasers, most likely.

“Took some fire from an uppity Undu. Just some glancing blows. He caught me off guard before I turned the tables on him.”

So, the bounty hunter’s pride would make him talk.

“He must’ve been trying the non-lethal approach too. There’s just something about you that I think everyone wants to be friends with.” I couldn’t stifle my grin.

The bounty hunter whipped around in his bed. He grimaced at the sudden movement but swallowed the pain as he raised his voice.

“First of all, it’s a bounty hunter. The next time ya say some smarmy shit like collector I’ll rip your tongue out, whether I’m leaking like a Xolvan-made vessel or not.”

Got him.

“Second of all, I damn well knew where the bastard was hiding. I let him unload his piddly laser show to draw him out and pop him with Cranker.”

Terry lifted a flap on his cloak to reveal a double-barreled shotgun. The wooden frame of its leather-gripped handle blended seamlessly into a coal-black set of barrels. A nasty-looking metal hook curled out from the pommel.

“And if ya keep talking, I’ll introduce you too.”

“No need, no need. I meant no offense. I’m just curious as to what fate brought us back together again.” I returned my expression to a mock-somber state, burying my cracked smile.

Terrence grunted and stowed his weapon.

“As long as we’re stuck in here waiting for our flesh to knit back together, and who knows how long that will take, we may as well have some friendly conversation you know.” I offered.

“The GenX serum will kick in soon. We won’t be here but another handful of hours.”

“Well let’s make the time fly.” I sat up in my cot. I realized this was a mistake as soon as I shifted the weight in my hips. A searing pain shot up from my abdomen. I did my best to subdue my expression.

“You’re Terrence Mulligan the bounty hunter that wanted a bigger payout. Aren’t you the least bit curious about what brought me here?”

“Not at all, boy.”

“I’m glad you asked. I’m Puck, and I’m here on a considerable gambling debt with some mobsters. Fighting’s not really in my nature. I prefer to settle contests in gaming lounges, usually with a deck of cards.”

“Well, you must not be very good if your habit landed you here, boy.” Terry snorted.

I prickled a bit at that, I’ll admit.

“One could say the same about your stay here in the infirmary. I told you fighting isn’t my trade, but shouldn’t it be harder to shoot you twice, Terry?”

“Shut your damn mouth boy! I’ll -”

“Can you two keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest after a strenuous round.” A female voice wafted out from behind the brown curtain I had spotted before. Within its confines, I could see a lengthy shadow cast by someone, but its features were otherwise indeterminate.

“Stay out of it, wench. This don’t concern you.” Terry shook his thick knuckles at the shadow.

“No, but I may have something that concerns our friend Puck.”

Me?

The curtain yanked back to reveal a thin woman with snow-white hair that ended in curled purple tips at her shoulder. She wore a magenta dress that split at the hips and fell in parts to her heels. A black girdle fastened the two sides of the garment together in a way that showed the top of her ample bosom. The rest, sadly, hid behind the belt’s tight bind. A golden brooch in the shape of a lily nestled over her heart. I couldn’t see any weapons on her.

“Who are you?” I stammered despite myself. Women didn’t usually make me nervous, but there was something off-putting about the glare in her violet eyes.

“That’s not important.” She replied sternly. “You’ve got this mock-bravado about you. It’s making me more queasy than I already am, so I’m going to put something into perspective for you. Those “mobsters” aren’t going to let you go no matter how much you earn. If you turn out to be profitable, which I highly doubt, you will be kept here as long as you keep bringing in cash flow.”

I gaped. How did she know so much about my circumstances?

“One day soon you will run into your limit in the form of a semi-competent competitor. At that point, death would be merciful. The only alternative for a washout is The Pits.”

“What are you, another Agent?”

The white-haired woman chortled. “Not quite.” She brought a purple-lacquered finger to her similarly colored lips. “If you’re worth more than you look, you may find out one day.”

I didn’t want to believe what she was saying but it made sense, and her tone held no hint of deceit. If anything she seemed happy at my fate. To be sure, I scanned her facial expression.

> Current Emotion: Amused

>

> Physiological Status: Calm, no biological tells

Snide bitch.

“Just what are The Pits? I heard someone mention them before.” Terrence forced himself back into the conversation.

The willowy woman shrugged her bare shoulders. “All I have heard is hearsay. Something about highly illegal genetic experiments. You will have to let me know when you get there.”

“Bullshit.” I snapped. “She’s just trying to feed us some ghost story to shut us up.”

“You look like just the right subject to play with, too. It’s always the scrappy ones that can take the most punishment. All sorts of things can be done to a body that refuses to give out. It makes the eventual surrender more amusing - or so I’ve heard.” Her eyes glimmered with hunger. Somehow I felt like she wasn’t talking about genetics anymore.

“I don’t know, lad. The broad might have a point. I had to sign a few NDAs and waivers of consent about experimental technology for my bid as a contestant here. It may have just been referring to the enhancements you can acquire at higher rounds… but it might have meant something else.”

The usually macho bounty hunter looked squeamish now. The ruddiness of his cheeks had paled.

If the woman’s objective was to gain silence, she had achieved it. With the ominous question hanging in the air I kept my mouth shut and returned to my thoughts.

If I were defeated in one of these rounds, would I end up LimeLight’s next science experiment?