“W-what in the actual void?” Jin Karf spit out in shock.

  “Commander, did you know about this?” Amon asked hesitantly turning to observe the Commander for clues.

  From his reaction, Amon surmised Jin Karf was as dumbfounded as himself. There was no mention of the caught Marines in the Captain’s orders, just simple errands to procure supplies for the Dreadnought.

  Amon's brows furrowed. Was it a ploy by the Captain? It was inevitable this would lead to conflict with the locals.

  Or did the Captain not know about this, and they had just stumbled upon them? It was too great a coincidence for Amon to believe it easily. Unless..

  “No! We need to go in there. Ask what happened–the fleet, where is the fleet?” The Commander said, walking forward in a trance. Despite his usual attentiveness, he didn’t realize the problem brewing behind them among the ranks.

  Thankfully, Amon read the situation before it got out of control. “Tommy, stay here and keep the company in check. We don’t want them rushing carelessly inside that.” He said, pointing at the bazaar and the excited crowd of armed pirates. The weapons were holstered and sheathed yet to Amon’s eyes every single one was a threat he had to account for.

  Tommy with a sharp inhale of realization nodded, the implications of a clash with the pirates was too great a threat. He turned the other way, barking orders at the Marines to stay put.

  After making sure everyone complied with the orders, Amon caught up with the Commander, shadowing his steps. Together, they forced their way forward, pushing closer to the slave auction.

  Unintimidated by the armed obstacles, Jin Karf shoved the idle shoppers out of the way without care. A few took offense and tried to grab the Commander from behind but one look at the towering Genome following made them reconsider.

  For Amon, the stalls blurred to his left and right. His focus was targeted ahead on the stage, where men and women were shackled in chains on their hands and feet. At this moment nothing could stand in his way.

  Their determination to plow through the crowd attracted a few stares and it didn’t take long for the bound Marines on top of the stage to notice. A piercing wail came out of their mouths, building in intensity as more and more noticed the approach and joined in.

  “We are saved!”

  “The SFC is here.”

  “Thank the Lord Arthas. He sent help for us.”

  The reply from the slaver guards was immediate. Heavy metal rods descended turning the cries of hope into ones of pain.

  “Hey! Wait, stop that immediately,” Jin Karf called out taking off his helmet to reveal a face twisted in anger. He glared ahead with his arm shot up and waving. His hopes of stemming the violence came back unanswered.

  “Don’t rush ahead, they are ready for us,” Amon said from behind him placing a hand on the Commander’s shoulder. His grip might have been stronger than intended because the Commander's senses returned to him and he paused.

  “Well, well, well. We have some excited customers right here,” A man said emerging out in the open taking the central part of the stage.

  He was a big man, not Genome big but still rather large. And he had some work done on his body. His two arms were replaced by robotic limbs that had seen lots of action. The metal was worn with scrapes and the joints looked like they had been replaced several times. More surprising was the artificial neck. A difficult part of the body to replace. It would require constant maintenance to keep the range of motion smooth. It was something usually done in emergencies rather than a tech upgrade. A deep scar running down one cheek to meet the metal that replaced his throat might be the answer for it.

  In mere moments two others joined the cyborg on the stage. “Psy, who are these men?” A woman asked the cyborg with a smirk pointing at Amon and the Commander from above. She was heavily tattooed, turning whatever skin tone she had been born with into a black swirl of different shapes. And she was showing a lot of skin, her sleeveless topper and torn pants revealed the enhancer drugs she constantly used. Her veins were popping out aggressively, surfacing on her body like the nerves of a leaf. She grinned wide, glaring daggers.

  “The vicious has found new toys to play with.” The third said. He was a little man and unproportioned as if his body had forgotten how to grow properly, yet when Amon’s gaze fell on him, he noticed the man had no eyes. Fully robotic optics replaced them, white balls without any color, giving him a sinister look. Fixed on his hip a long knife gleaned unsheathed–the blade jagged with the teeth of a chainsaw.

  “Has the SFC come to claim their own?” Psy the cyborg asked. Behind him, the slaver guards with ample violence herded the bound Marines further out of reach to the back.

  Jin Karf stiffened. Amon with his grip still holding on the Commander’s shoulder could feel him trembling with anger, barely able to control himself. “Slaver,” He said, spitting the word like a curse. “How much for all of them?”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Oh, talking business so soon? We can’t have that. Not without all the fun. Tell them, Psy, Horath il.” The woman replied instead, posturing eagerly. She parted her lips showing her metallic teeth and bloodred gums.

  “Ti Ann’s right,” Horath il said. “Newcomers need to prove they belong here to shop for goods. As we all did,” He shouted at the end, to the wild cheers of the crowd who had gathered to watch the proceedings.

  The two of them were well isolated now with no path to return to the restless ranks of the SFC Marines waiting at the edges of the bazaar.

  The cyborg nodded in agreement. “You heard them, the goods are not for sale,” Psy said with a malevolent grin. “But you can trade for them–in the JAWS of Hic’Evol!”

  Further cheers came from the crowds, a vibration of excitement at the prospects of the slaver’s words.

  Amon knew a trap when he heard one, he leaned close to whisper to the Commander’s ear. “This is a setup, we are being played here.”

  “I know, damn it. But we can’t let these voidborn animals have our men. Who knows what they will do to them?” Jin Karf said with disgust. “What are these Jaws you say?” He asked. The heat was creeping up his neck giving the Commander a red flash on his cheeks.

  “A life for a life, as in the old days, the old ways of the raiders, the true tenets for the freemen!” Psy shouted. “Fight for each life you claim with your own on the line. That is the fair trade we offer.”

  The crowd was going wild, jumping and shouting around them. Amon with his jaws tightly fixed grinded his teeth until sharp pain made him stop. His thoughts cleared. He had decided.

  “Commander–Jin, let me. If we can’t avoid it at least let me be the first to try,” Amon whispered with determination. He wouldn’t let the pirates have their way. If a fight was what they craved for he would bring upon them much more than they could chew.

  “Are you sure?” The Commander whispered back and Amon nodded taking his helmet off.

  “Hey, slaver, I’ll do it. The Marines you have, I’ll take them all.”

  Amon paused for a moment a stray thought emerging in his mind and then grinned wide. Killing pirates didn’t seem to bother him at all.

  —-

  The Jaws of Hic’Evol were aptly named. The closed-off arena had irregular metallic pikes that protruded from the ground and ceiling and appeared like the jagged maw of a terrible beast. With one look Amon was certain that his height would be an issue. He had to crouch where the pikes descended to avoid getting speared in the head. Strangely there were no stands surrounding the arena for the crowds to observe only bare walls tainted and marred from previous fights.

  Yet as he stood on the floor above the arena his downward view was unimpeded. He looked at the floor at his feet but what he really saw was the arena underneath. Floor screens, he thought.

  They watch the fights beneath them like gods looking down at the struggling mortals.

  “Fighter, come with me. The rest of you may rest here and relish in the pleasures Hic’Evol has to offer.” Psy the cyborg said. His robotic arm waved at an attendant who approached with a datapad in hand. “Bets are open until the fighting starts,” he said with his synthetic voice to the Commander.

  “Just don’t drink too much juice. You’ll need all the fighters you can get,” The tattooed woman, Ti Ann said laughing. She already had a cup of some liquid in her bulging hand, sipping with fervor.

  Jin Karf didn’t reply and remained in line with the A300 company which had gathered in a tight formation. Amon knew that if they had their helmets off he would have seen his comrade’s outraged and furious expressions.

  “Amon, show them hell!” Tommy called out followed by others offering words of encouragement.

  He waved back and followed the cyborg downstairs.

  The entrance to the arena was a closed-off double door but before he could enter two pirates barred his way.

  “Strip your suit and settle your weapons here. Only blades are allowed inside the Jaws.” One said emotionlessly.

  “And if I don’t have a blade?” Amon asked, only for the same pirate to point at a wall on the other side of the room. Turning Amon saw two crates with stacks of different bladed weapons thrown carelessly inside them, from swords to cleavers to throwing daggers.

  “Very well,” Amon said and placed his blaster and rifle beside the wall but when the pirate tried to grab them, his arm moved like lightning grabbing the pirate’s wrist in his hand. “Do not touch,” he said with an anger that had been kept at bay for too long.

  The pirate surprised, jolted backwards followed by the laughs of his fellow and the cyborg observing from close behind them.

  The black and grey SFC uniform underneath his biosuit allowed for an unimpeded range of motion. Satisfied with this, he approached the weapon crates. It didn’t take too long for him to select his weapons–a short sword and a jagged dagger, one for each hand. They would do nicely. He was ready.

  “How many of our people have you kept in chains?” Amon asked the cyborg, his new blades in his hands.

  “27.”

  “You’ll have 27 dead soon enough then,” He replied. A fire burned inside his chest, and his body trembled with adrenaline.

  The cyborg and the pirates laughed but Amon never broke eye contact, only when the arena doors closed behind him did he look ahead.

  He was the first one in. He weaved his body between the pikes getting a feel for the surrounding environment. In places the clusters of pikes were denser, creating traps that would leave him with no way out but for their sharp teeth, in others cleared areas would allow for free combat without any obstruction. In his mind, the one familiar with the arena would have a definite advantage in leading the fight where an advantage could be found.

  Well. His tech would alleviate that. With his optics, he scanned the enclosed arena, from one end to the other. A virtual map of the pikes was displayed, and he enabled proximity alarms to warn him in case he got too close to the deadly pikes.

  A second set of doors opened focusing his attention. A slithering pirate holding a blade entered the arena from the other side.

  “Finally,” Amon said between his teeth.

  There was no ceremony to commence the fight. No referee or commentator to offer words. The pirate rushed him, eager to draw blood. The slim man stepped between the pikes with practiced ease, his curved blade in one hand open and ready to slice.

  As he came the pirate’s blade hit a pike and a ringing sound echoed in the arena. Then, again and again, he hit every pike in his path. The cacophony of sounds merged and echoed in a deafening symphony. The pirate showed teeth and Amon smiled right back.