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We made our way toward the nearest exit, but our way was barred by an unfolding brawl between two groups a good distance from the main spectacle. We moved as a group, Lisa’s soldiers in a tight circle around us with Bryce, Lisa, the rescued girl and me in the center. His eyes were almost glittering as he watched the chaos he’d set in motion. Skidmark gripped the railing as he hunched over it, grinning a smile with teeth that seemed to be every color but white. It was as though the Merchants felt more secure with their hands around people’s throats than they did trying to get away. Instead of stopping the crowd, it seemed to provoke them, pushing those who hadn’t been participating into action, like runners who’d been waiting for a starter’s pistol.

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The crack of a gun being fired went off somewhere. She said something else, but I couldn’t make it out. “Leave her.” Lisa called out, raising her voice to be heard over the screams and cheering. He pointed at the girl who had been sitting next to Bryce, “And her?” Jaw grabbed Bryce by the shirt and hauled him to his feet. She turned to Jaw and ordered, “Bring the boy.” The violence was escalating and it didn’t look to be slowing down anytime soon. Others moved to stop them or shove anyone who got close enough onto the colored ground. One man helped by a kid who might have been his son upended a trash can on the glowing ground to send rotted food and other rubbish flying into the ring. Others were inspired by his idea, and did much the same thing, using Skidmark’s power to pelt the people in the arena. The audience turned on the man who’d launched the chunk of rubble, clustering around him, punching and kicking him, and shoving him to the ground. The chunk of concrete flew into the massed people, striking a man who was crouching and trying to avoid the worst of the fighting. Inspired by this sight, a man who stood outside the ring grabbed a piece of rubble and threw it down at the edge of the ring. The spray of blood landed in the area of Skidmark’s power and shot straight back into the melee. The traitor got his just reward when three young men and a grungy looking old man tackled him to the ground and started beating him.Īt the corner nearest to us, a woman got smashed in the nose. His new ‘friend’ turned and struck him down from behind not two seconds later. One of the loners found another guy without any friends around, shouted something I couldn’t hear, and they drew together. Groups of friends were banding together, leaving others alone. Backing away, he found someone he knew, and through some unspoken agreement, they drew together, each protecting the other’s back. One of the Merchants in the ring had just bludgeoned someone with a length of pipe. The crowd roared, and I turned to see why, just in time to see the aftermath of the first attack. “Is he for real?” I looked to Lisa for an answer.