Gunpowder Sirens

The Ninth Circle

A shout. A scream.

An ETA hook over the top, followed by a kick to Banshee's forehead and her bone sacs crack wide open. The crowd roars at the sight of beautiful half-Centauri blood gushing outta the wound, floating gently to the flooring under the station's low gravity like leaves in the breeze. I can feel them inside me, my fans, all fifty thousand o' them, their energy washing over me till I'm heady with adrenaline and giddy with endorphins. 'Tis the best drug-rush, I tell ye! Feeling all those neurons tingle throughout my body, all those synapses set a-fire with the flood o' neurotransmitters, all those blood vessels dilating to feed the biochemical rush throbbing inside. This is the bloodlust. The call o' the wild animal within that not even my BioJacks network or Core® can tame 'cuz all those fancy algorithms and mathematical equations set inside yer brains can only do so much before Mother Nature takes back control. And the more Banshee cowers at my feet, the more that magnificent blood leaks outta her, drop for drop, all sparkly and ghost-like as it pools at my feet...

The more I feel alive.

"Kill her!" the crowd screams.

I oblige my loyal fans, driving fist after fist, kick after−

Hands grab at my back.

"I said 'BELL'!" the voice growls. 'Tis the Ref come to stop the massacre. 'Tis only then that I realize the bell had been sounded and Round Seven had been called to an end. Banshee scrambles to get out from under me and runs to her corner o' the Cage.

Me? I keep my eyes on the scoreboard's Holo. 'Tis a draw so far at one-all between us. And with only one round left to decide our fate, only one round left before the winner can take it all...by the gods, that lights a fire in me. I ain't going home with no empty cryptoledgers tonight.

Sponsors' holos dance in the air above the Cage in every language in the near-Helio, first in the government-approved Intersystem Standard and then in the rat-tat-tat o' Martian Eiridi, followed by the hiccupping echoes o' its northern cousin, Pata. Next comes the burp and bubbling o' Centauri Crux – 'cuz those Out-Cloud bastards are everywhere, even this far deep in the In-Cloud − and then sharp, clean tongue swirls o' Terran Galien for those lucky free Gaians who ain't chained to their Nodes and corporate contracts no more. The population o' Ara Metus space station is diverse; people from all flags and walks o' life crowd this 800-aion-old station 'cuz 'tis a shining jewel in the UMT's crumbling crown.

****************************************************************

Hungry? Grab a Big Dōan at Artez. With fries and a Chug for only a Babbage! Eat like a king at Artez. Would you like directions to the next counter?

****************************************************************

Fight unwanted ads and protect your privacy with the ATK's Gen10 AdBot blocker and firewall protection for only 300Ș. Don't leave your network vulnerable. Use offer code 6221-SECURE for a free 30-day trial.

  ***************************************************************

Then sign up for the ATK BioNode program. Invest in humanity's technological future and get the body you need for the dream job you want. Shake the burden of your debts from your cryptoledger and become the Blockchain. Select BioCode 6221-SUCCESS for details.

*****************************************************************

There's another call for bets as the Holos change from advertisements to the flashing numbers of tonight's lucky pot. Eight thousand Șzabos. That's the highest payout this season.