O__|__X | Tempest | Maverick | X__|__O
The impact leaves me breathless. For the first time, I encountered Maverick's unbound fury, and it's not a nice experience. He doesn't even give me time to recover - I already see his foot above me, ready to stomp at me. I manage to roll aside just in time. The foot impacts on the ground, raising up a cloud of dust.
At least the viewers seem to finally enjoy the fight.
I do a handspring away from him and rev up the machinery in my legs again. I look into Maverick's goggles - his masked face shows no emotion whatsoever. That's another scary thing about him - he's just as menacing and anonymous as Yeomen he fought against a few hours ago.
I hurl myself forward again. This time, Maverick is ready for my trick. However, he has no idea I changed it a little. While he expects me to aim at his chest or head, I fly above his head and before he can reach up and catch me, I'm behid his back.
I land in a safety roll and immediately, before Maverick can turn around, I launch at him again. I land on his back and grasp his neck firmly, trying to overbalance him on his back. However, it's not easy considering Maverick probably weighs almost three times more than me.
He reaches for my arms. I jump up, landing on his shoulders (again, I take advantage of Scarla's balance training) and then on the top of his head. He reaches for me again, but I jump up again, making him grab only the top of his masked head. I make a 180 turn in the mid-air and upon landing, I kick up my knee which connects with his chin.
After I land, I roll into a safe distance. I manage to oppose Maverick as an equal and he doesn't seem to be holding back. It boosts my confidence. Tiny, almost unknown Tempest beating the most feared Champion who was too much even for Nightingale.
Maverick again enters his strange idle state. I can hear his huffing from several meters. He's repeatedly clenching and releasing his fist. This may be a good chance to strike, but I'm too confused by his strange behavior. What's behind it? Does he have to fight his exhaustion, himself or both?
He finally recovers and charges at me again. I stand my ground, waiting for a perfect moment to evade. However, while running, Maverick points his artificial hand at me, palm first, like Somnis trying to hypnotize me. However, there's no diode in his palm. There's... a hole.
I hear a hissing sound and in the next second, my world becomes a mix of heat, humidity and mist. I shriek and close my eyes. What the hell did he do? The next second, I realize it was steam. Maverick has a steam cannon integrated within his proth. A steam cannon he never used before.
Before I can recover, Maverick grabs my throat, picks me up and throws me away. I fly through the whole arena until the arena's fence doesn't stop me.
OO_|__X | Tempest | Maverick | XX_|__O
I sweep the water droplets off my face. Steam cannon? That's a dirty trick. But why did Maverick not use it until now? In preliminary rounds? Is he decided to defeat me no matter what? Nothing makes sense anymore. Is this his way to reward me for saving him?
Maverick is ready to finish the business. If I want to win, I need to be as careful as possible, but also take risks. If I managed to land on his back like a while ago, I know what would I do. I was unfocused back then and made only a Clash point. If I...
Maverick is already close. He swings his atrificial fist at me. I crouch, just enough for his arm to fly right above my head. With a perfect timing, I raise my hands and use his arm like a trapeze. He finishes the swing and I use the kinetic energy to narrow my legs and crush his face with both feet at once.
However, it scores only a Clash point. The battle is not over yet.
...
___|_XX | Tempest | Maverick | XX_|__O
I release his arm and land on his shouders. I turn around and squeeze his neck between my thighs. Then I start to repeatedly punch his head with my fists, hoping to disorient and confuse him. I'm successful. Maverick spins around and tries to grasp me. Unsuccessfully.
After a few hits, a Clash point is scored. I need two more to win.
I continue hitting his head until Maverich changes tactic. He starts to swing his upper body forward and backward like a metal fan on a concert. This is where I feel like falling off. I squeeze his head between my thighs even tighter, but I can already feel them slipping.
Before I fall off, I instinctively grab the fabric of Maverick's mask and hold on to it. But I fall down anyway, with Maverick's mask in my hands. I hit the ground so hard a Clash point is scored.
I realize what I've done. A Champion can be fined for unmasking an anonymous Champion against their will. On the other hand, for the first time, I see Maverick's unmasked head, at least from behind so far. It's nothing interesting, just a short butch cut on a large head.
But there's something so familiar about it...
I jump on my feet and approach Maverick from the front. Some of the wievers boo at me for unmasking my opponent, but that's the last think I care about. Nobody has an idea how personal story is happening here. My heart skips a beat after I see Maverick's real appearance.
Rough, round face, crooked nose, serious dark eyes. And especially dark pigment scars covering half of his face. We stare at each other for a solid minute and the crowd already starts to question what's happening. His expression is unreadable, showing no emotion whatsoever.
"Isaiah..." I gasp.
The truth is what I wanted. And now I have it. The feared Champion infamous for his brutality and ferocity is someone I spent long years with. The only reason I survived the Dead Zone. My friend, protector, partner - and much more. Why is he here? Why did he change so much?
Isaiah used to be fierce, but not brutal. He fought only when necessary. And now? It looks like his dark eyes lost all connection with the person he used to be. All I see is emptiness, suffering and some other things I can't even name. Even though I should be happy to see him again, it's a horrible moment.
Then, when I'm still off guard, he squeezes my head between his hand and bangs it against his knee. I hear a triple buzz as I collapse to the ground. He took a chance and finished me off.
I hear the commentator's voice: "I'm not entirely sure what happened. It seemed like Tempest and Maverick knew each other, like they shared some past. It was... a surprising match. The victory goes to Maverick. I really hope Tempest will explain what happened."
Too bad, man, Tempest won't explain what happened. As soon as I recover from the shock (or all the shocks, to be more specific), I run to Isaiah who's already disappearing in the depths of the arena. "Wait! WAIT!" I shout at him, but he ignores me. What the hell is happening? Did he lose his memory?
Defeated for now, I return to the contestant terraces. Ryan, Katerina and Sotiris give me a questioning look. I don't feel like explaining right now. But I guess I'll have to.
"It was Isaiah," I say.
Fortunately, I don't need to say more. All three already know who's Isaiah and what role did he play in my life. I'm grateful they don't pry - my shock must be visible and they understand it. I ignore the rest of the fights and just stare at the floor.
I can't concentrate on fighting anymore. I think about withdrawing from the tournamment completely, but it would be unfair towards Ryan. I can hardly advance into the final rounds and at the end of the day, I'm so tired both physically and emotionally.
However, there's one meeting I have to attend.
...
It's already after sunset when I bang on the door of a traditional German cottage toned into white and brown where we live during the Berlin Challenge. This housing for one person only is supposed to be Isaiah's. I'm already here for about five minutes and even though my knuckles are bleeding, I can't stop knocking.
"Isaiah!" I shout. "ISAIAH, OPEN!"
My tears sprinkle the doorstep of Isaiah's temporary house. All I want for now is to speak to him. But it seems he doesn't want to speak to me. Some people already complain about me being loud and some even threatened to call the Wardens. I don't mind. This is more important for me.
When I'm just about to give up, the door finally open. A huge figure of Isaiah dressed into a gray tracksuit towers above me. He's wearing a black beanie on his head - at least some things don't change. But otherwise, he seems so alien, unfamiliar... it makes me want to cry even more.
We engage in another staring contest, just like in the arena.
Isaiah then walks past me and sits on a bench made of stone in front of the building. He silently invites me to sit next to him and I comply. I hear Isaiah's long sigh as he stares somewhere into the distance.
"Aren't we gonna talk?" I whisper.
"There's nothing much to talk about," he replies with his trademark husky voice.
"What do you mean?" I say. "The last time I saw you, you were in the Dead Zone..."
"And that's where it started to go to shit," he interrupts me. "Alone, I had no idea what to do. I got so used to you and your skills I simply couldn't adapt to the normal life again. I started to actively seek fights, often with opponents I had no chance with. That was the moment when my head... started to malfunction."
"When did they take you?"
"About four months after they took you. They sold me for a low price because I was volatile - just because I almost killed one of these fuckers who wanted to take me," he gives a grim smirk. "I was bought by some old geezer and this is where my life ended."
"You don't enjoy the Champion life?"
"Are you kidding me?" he gives me a frown so furious I cringe before him. "This is a fate worse than Hell. Fighting with your brothers and sisters just to amuse the Healthy. They gave me this ridiculous thing," he clenches and releases the fist of his artificial hand several times, "and expect me to be eternally grateful. Zoya, this is the worst thing that could happen to me. I'm... lost."
"You can pay your partner the money he invested in you and leave," I suggest. "You are free to do so."
"And where can I go?" he bursts out so loudly I jump up a little. "I have no idea what's going on in this God forsaken place. I don't understand it. I don't belong here. I can hardly make it with the guidance of my slaver. I wouldn't last long on my own."
I've never heard so much sorrow, bitterness and desperation in his voice. I know... or knew Isaiah well enough. He's a free spirit who hates to be restrained. I understand that this world must be an incarnation of Hell for him. Full of things he doesn't understand with people forcing him to do things he would never do. He's clenching his fists so tightly the knuckles on his organic hand turn white.
"Maybe we can make it... together," I suggest. "We can be a team again."
My heart freezes as Isaiah shakes his head. "I'm afraid this is no longer possible, Zoya. We have to stay separated now and I'd prefer if this was our very last talk."
"But... but why?!" I gasp. "We used to..."
"What we used to is no longer relevant," Isaiah sighs. "Everything changed. If you were with me longer now, you wouldn't recognize me anymore. Isaiah you used to know is gone. There's only Maverick now. And trust me, you don't want to mess with that guy."
"But I sit next to you, Isaiah. You don't make sense!"
"I'm sorry about this, Zoya, but parting ways is the only way we can both be safe. You fit in just right. You were always the adaptive one, after all. You have new friends. Your sla... partner seems to treat you well. If you really can find pleasure in this life, then find as much as possible. But I can't. You can't force me to love this life just like I can't force you to hate it."
"But..."
"It's over between us, Zoya!" he shouts. "It's the only way... I can protect you from myself."
...
"Protect me... from yourself?" I don't understand.
Isaiah nods. "It's hard to talk about it, but since they took you... I'm not alright anymore. Inside of me is raging and it's only getting worse. Lately, I find it hard, almost impossible, to control my temper. A little trigger is enough to overflow me with rage. And here... when I'm surrounded by things and people I hate with all my heart, it's a torture."
I grab his organic hand, feeling his coarse, calloused skin. "Isaiah..."
"The only place I find peace is the arena," he continues. "There, I can unleash all my rage and vent it on my opponents, making me feel at least a little better. You see my problem? I can't live with Neoclash, but I also can't live without it. I feel the best when I can hurt someone, hit them with all my power, overwhelm them, defeat them. But I also don't want to hurt anyone. I want to find my peace without rage, but the only peace I find is when I unleash the rage. And these contradictions are driving me crazy. I don't know if I'm able to hold it much longer until I get really insane. I feel my mind falling apart."
"We can fix it together!" I insist. "You said it started when I was taken. Now I'm here again, so I can help you to calm down again. Please. I can't just leave you, now when I know you're here."
"You don't UNDERSTAND, Zoya!" he shouts, shaking off my hand. "Sooner or later, I hurt everyone who comes close to me. And I don't want you to be one of them."
"Isaiah..."
His unsightly face turns away with a painful expression. "Zoya, as I said, Isaiah is gone. I no longer have a heart. If you decided to hold on to me, I'd only put you through Hell and leave us more damaged than before. Look at yourself, Zoya. You're no longer that scrawny, miserable girl who couldn't even walk properly. You became strong. Beautiful. Self-reliant. You no longer need me."
"You're wrong!"
"Take it how you take it, but starting now, we don't know each other," Isaiah says. "It was a shame you took off that mask. If you didn't, you would never know what I've become. And actually, you still don't know. So leave before you find out." He leans to me and kisses my forehead. "Goodbye, Zoya. It was beautiful with you. But times are changing. People are changing."
When he stands up and walks to the door, I'm already in tears. I don't try to stop him. As he steps inside, he turns to me for one last time. The little spark of hope is extinguished by his words: "About that removed mask, of course, I won't file a complaint. I was wearing it only because of you anyway. And also, thanks for saving me back then. I'm not surprised it was you who foiled the plan."
Then he closes the door and leaves me empty. I know he's not lying. His body language proves all the problems he mentioned. But I still want to help him.
Or do I?
For the first time, I doubt if I really want to share my life with this person. If he really changed that much, he's not Isaiah anymore. He's Maverick. Volatile, violent, unpredictable. I know he's not responsible for it, but maybe he's right. It'll be much safer if I stay away from him.
After a while, I hear an anguished, rageful roar from the inside of the cottage followed by the noise of shattered glass. Shivers go down my spine. The peaceful, calm talk probably required a huge amount of self-control and now he has to vent the bottled up rage. He's probably also devastated by the decision he made. I saw it in his eyes - he also wants to reunite with me.
But he chose my safety over our feelings.
Horrified, I listen to the noises coming from the cottage. The roar Isaiah emmits doesn't even sound human, it's more like a painful cry of an injured animal. When I can't bear it any longer, I turn around into my own cottage. I didn't tell Ryan I'm going to visit Isaiah, but I suppose he knows.
I didn't lose just a friend. Isaiah was a part of me, the one who selflessly saved me when I needed it the most. Now I regret pulling the mask off. If I didn't, I'd remember Isaiah like I used to know him."
...
Ryan sits in the cottage's living room, using the holographic panel to play chess with the computer. He controls the holograms floating above the table with the voice commands. He sends his Queen, who looks like a beautiful lady in a black dress holding a sword, to destroy his opponent's Knight in full armor riding a white horse. The Queen thrusts her sword into the horse's throat and the white hologram disappears from the board.
"How did it go?" he utters without stopping looking at the checkerboard. If he did, my tears would have been a sufficient answer.
"I'll tell you once you do the checkmate," I retort.
He notices the crack in my voice, possibly. Anyway, he pauses the game and lets me sit next to him. There I tell him about Isaiah's transformation. It's probable he won't understand - he doesn't seem to grasp the concept of tight bonds between people. But I need to tell someone. Anyone.
Ryan sloppily tries to hug me. "I think it's better that way, Zoya," he tells me. "I don't know who he used to be, but what is he now, Maverick, is something you should definitely stay away from."
"You don't understand," I sob. "We were more than just friends."
"Lovers?"
"No! We were like... two halves of one whole. And now I'm afraid I'll never get the second half back. Are you really unable to imagine having someone irreplacable in your life? Someone whose loss would actually hurt you? Sometimes I wish you were at least a little more sensitive, so you could understand some things I'm going through." I pause. "Sorry, that probably sounded mean."
"I get you," Ryan says. "I'm trying as much as I can, but it's hard when you were on your own all your life. When you had a family which didn't love you, no friends, no lovers, only classmates and colleagues. It made me think it's easier not to cling to people much. And it saved me a lot of tears."
"We are both different," I admit. "I hate being lonely and even more being betrayed." I remember how my Tribe turned back on me after I lost my parents. "Now I feel like both. I know Isaiah is doing it to protect me, but I'd be willing to take the risk. It's five years nobody can erase. We went through so much together. Saved each other's life countless times. Went through both good and bad times. I just don't want to admit this is where it ends. That we encountered an obstacle that finally divided us."
"Maybe if you continued to hold on, it would hurt even more than letting go," Ryan says. "It seems Isaiah developed serious anger management issues and maybe some other mental illnesses. I know about many Castaways who, in layman's terms, went bonkers after being transported here. I remember the Scatterbrain's attack about four years ago. Actually, it happened here, during the Berlin Challenge."
"Scatterbrain?"
Ryan nods. "He was similar to Maverick, equally violent and brutal in arena... and even outside it. He openly admitted he lives for extreme violence. People thought it's only his pose. It wasn't. When he won the Berlin Challenge, he went nuts completely. As soon as they turned off the INF system after his victory, he let loose his weapon and slaughtered four Champions around him. He managed to injure some more before he was finally shot by the Wardens. And the best thing? It was all broadcasted live. As you can probably imagine, it raised a huge wave of Yeomen protests."
"I doubt Isaiah will end up like this."
"If he continues to fuel his rage like this, who knows. Mentally unstable Castaways are a fragile business. Maybe it's better you parted ways now, when he still has some sense in his head. You wouldn't like to know how can it end. Trust me. I've worked as an intern in the hospital for mentally ill Castaways."
"What did you see there?"
"You don't want to know."
"Was it really that bad?"
"I stayed for only three weeks."
...
The next day, I see Isaiah on the contestant terraces. It seems he ditched his mask - I guess he no longer sees a point in wearing it since I already know who he is. It's quite strange, seeing him like this. For me, his battle-scarred face was associated with dirty, tattered clothes. Now, he's wearing his Champion costume except the mask. It had to be equally shocking for him when he saw me.
When they separated us, I was still that fragile, malnourished, one-legged Zoya who was only good for drawing maps. What was his first reaction when he saw me as a Champion? I hardly resemble a person I used to be. Maybe we both changed too much to just continue where we left off.
You became strong. Beautiful. Self-reliant. You no longer need me.
What if he is right?
I also remember Odin's speech about the rebellious Champions who hate their new mission. He said these are most likely to become Outlaws. Could Isaiah become a criminal? I suppose he could, if he was given the right motivation. In that case, what should I do? Avoid him so he doesn't drag me down? Or try as much as possible to save him from the darkness of his own mind?
Too many questions.
Isaiah fights before me. I thought he's scary when he has his mask on. But without it, it's even worse. I can see his face distorting in surges of rage. It turn so red that the difference between his healthy skin and pigment scars almost disappears. And then, there's the triumphant expression he puts on when he pulverizes the enemy. The look of sadistic joy.
This is not the person I used to know.
After Isaiah scores the last Fatal point, he returns to the terraces and walks by my seat. He can barely walk up the stairs and he's shaking. For a brief moment, we maintain an eye contact. The bloodthirsty look is gone. All I see is resignation and exhaustion.
He sits next to his partner. A slaver, as he called the man. The older man talks to Isaiah with calm, caring expression. Isaiah ignores him.
I understand that Isaiah probably hates the man for the mere sake of buying him and making him a Champion. I doubt there's anything else to hate about that man. He looks like that grandpa type of old man who spoils his grandchildren with candies.
"Just let him be," Ryan hisses from the seat next to me.
I realize I've been staring at Isaiah since he entered the arena. And Ryan would feel better if I cut him off completely. I take my eyes off Isaiah and observe my artificial feet instead.
Shortly after, I'm called for my next fight. I find it hard to focus and I realize my performance was far from perfect. I manage to win only with a huge portion of luck and the arena containing pools of nasty, sticky fluid. My opponent wasn't as agile as me and fell victim to them while I could easily navigate between the pools and just strike when the time was right.
Top 32 once again. But I don't feel like I deserve it.
One more round for today.
"What's wrong with you?" Ryan spits out as soon as I wrap the paero skirt around my exposed thighs and sit next to him. "Don't let that man interfere with your performance. Do you think I didn't notice how unfocused and inattentive you were? I'm still more and more convinced about the fact that man is your curse!"
"I'm sorry about it," I reply. "But I suppose you'd act the same if you encountered a family member after so many years, completely changed and out of their mind. I'm not made of stone, Ryan, and neither are you."
Ryan jerks after I use the word family. It's his sensitive topic. When he talks about his past, he usually starts with his internship in DIANA when he was about eighteen. He never goes earlier. There are some hints Ryan and his family didn't get on well. Maybe it was an insensitive move from me.
I watch the following matches while trying to pull myself together. Ryan is right, I'm too distracted and if I don't regain my focus, I'll lose the following round. But to achieve that, I have to stop thinking about Isaiah. However, it's not easy since his fight comes soon.
With Sotiris as his opponent. Immovable object versus the unstoppable force.