Music buzzed lightly from Nike's omni-tool in the hot muggy air, a clear voice sang over the crickets.
I'm so afraid of where my life's going
Her jaw was clenched tight as she walked, Alex and Tiny dragging the tattered remnants of their lives behind them.
Guess I've been ashamed, somehow I kept going
The sky had taken on a cast of deep purple and red, like it was bruised by the events of the past 48 hours.
So tell me I'm good, tell me I'm good
Tell me I'm good
Nike yanked her mind from the path it was taking. She couldn't afford to dwell on it, not on Ross, not on Burger, not on Emma. It was all done, there was no turning back. This wasn't a game where you could load a save and take another path. This was life, this was reality.
Say I've done all I could, I've done all I could
Her head was pounding, her side a fissure of pain like she had been ripped apart and hastily put back together. Pressure was building at her amp. She knew what that meant. "Not now, you can crash later," she growled at herself under her breath. She kept her eyes trained on Tiny and Alex. Her only focus was to get them into the base, into her room and lock the door behind her. "Walk faster," she growled.
Alex shot her a look, eyes red-rimmed, looking as tired as Nike felt. Tiny whimpered at her tone, clinging onto Alex. "What's wrong with you?" Alex muttered suspiciously.
Firecracker was perceptive, she had seen too much. Nike pressed a hand against her side and checked. No blood, good, good. "Just walk faster," she repeated, shuffling a little faster.
Tiny's sobs grew a little louder. Alex wrapped her arm around his shoulders and quickened their pace. Nike's chest ached, not in the way she would after a fight. This was inside, this was something no doctor could help with. She had been hollowed out.
I'll say sorry later. We just need to get to base. I can't glitch out here.
The base loomed into view, and Nike never felt happier. She was gone for two whole days. Her absence would have been noted. At this point, she didn't care what the consequences were. She just needed sleep.
The guards at the gates lifted their pistols and aimed at the kids. Nike straightened, the pain, the exhaustion hastily tidied behind a mask of fury she didn't feel. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she snarled.
Alex dragged Tiny behind her. Nike felt a hand clutching the back of her shirt. The guards, a couple of new faces she had seen around recently, flinched at her tone. "Stand down!"
They compiled instantly. Nobody would deny the Champion after all. "Where's Frank or the others?" she asked as she ushered Alex and Tiny ahead of her. Her heart thumped against her chest as she waited for the answer.
One guard gulped visibly. "They are out for a raid."
Nike's heart lurched. Shit, was there supposed to be a raid today? She couldn't remember. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Frank wouldn't be around so there wouldn't be any questions, not till later in any case. She nodded curtly and gestured at Tiny and Alex. "Follow me."
Eyes were honed in them, but nobody dared stop the Champion, Nike of the Reds. With the rest away, she was the highest ranking around. Her pulse was a loud stuttering beat against her temples, her skull was trapped between an ever-tightening vice. She stumbled and braced herself against the wall. Wincing, she looked at the hand pressed against her side, it came away all red and blood. "Fuck." She had busted her stitches.
"You're hurt," Tiny whispered.
Alex grabbed Nike's arm, but she brushed Alex away. "No, not here," she hissed. With a grunt, she straightened, her shirt stuck to her back with sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. Her hair was more brown than red now. "Come on," she gasped.
The teeth of the key rattled as she fought to keep her trembling hands steady. Alex grabbed her hand and helped guide the key into the lock. Nike glanced about, relieved there was nobody watching.
This is bad, this is fucking bad.
"I'm going to…"
Nike took one step into her room and she was falling. Hands thrown out to break her fall, body twisting to make sure she wouldn't fall on her wound, but her amp seared, electricity shooting into her head and brain. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
Nike didn't feel her head bouncing against the floor. She didn't hear the frantic gasps of the kids as their small hands dragged her into the room. She didn't see the panicked look on their faces as they stared at her unconscious form.
"Nike!"
The voice sounded far away.
"Nike!" This was followed by a hard slap across her face.
She gasped, eyes snapped open instantly. Biotics licking up her arms as she levered herself upright. Pain lanced up her side as she winced, eyes watering, vision blurring.
"Get up! Who the fuck are you?" the voice snarled.
"Leave her alone!" a second voice shouted, this one pitched high.
Nike frowned and blinked the tears away, forcing herself to sit. Her headache had intensified, seeking fingers found a cut at the corner of her forehead and a lump to match.
What happened?
It took a moment, but the memories came rushing back. The stench of ozone, the burning smell of gunfire, the overwhelming scent of blood. And death, so much death. Burger, Ross, Emma.
She clenched her fists and forced herself to her feet, hand braced against the nearest object, in this case Alex's shoulder. Eyes narrowing as she found the bright light streaming in from the window.
Fuck, it's morning. This means…
She finally turned and found Krycek looking back at her. "Nike," he sneered. "Where have you been these past couple of days?"
Shit, shit, shit.
Nike withdrew her hand from Alex's shoulder. She could ill-afford to show any sign of weakness. "That's none of your fucking business," she snarled.
Krycek snorted, eyeing Alex and Tiny. "I didn't know your tastes run this young."
Alex bristled but calmed when Nike gripped her shoulder. She forcibly tugged Alex behind her, shoving her towards Tiny. "Watch him," she said before turning to Krycek. "Frank's looking for me I presume?"
"Yes," Krycek replied, the smirk across his face widened. "And you're in fucking trouble."
Nike's gaze hardened, hoping it hid the shudder that ran down her spine. "Get out of my room," she snarled at Krycek before gesturing towards Alex and Tiny. "Come on, I'll show you where's food."
She made sure her door was locked before handing the key to Alex. "Get the food, go into my room to eat it. Do not open the door for anyone else but me."
Alex nodded, her face pinched and serious. Tiny was pale. He had gone from being fearful to a state of numbness. She sighed. What the fuck was she supposed to do? She was no good with kids anyway. She was not his mother or sister. She never had them so how was she supposed to know how to deal with this anyway? But… they were her responsibility now. They all had to make adjustments. She pointed the common areas out quickly, noting Krycek was still hovering close by. He intended to watch Frank flay her alive, she figured. Jaw tightening, she repeated her admonishments and turned to Krycek. "Lead the fucking way then."
Nike entered the back room. Frank was counting a small pile of credit chits with Tenner. She heaved an internal sigh of relief. Good, they have a good haul tonight. Maybe he is a good mood.
Frank looked up. His eyes blazed with a displeasure that dispelled any such notion from her mind. Fuck.
"Rest of you out," he growled.
Tenner stiffened and hastily noted down where he stopped his count on his omni-tool before escaping. Krycek was not so easily deterred. He wanted to watch. Frank flicked his grey colourless eyes at the biotic. "Get the fuck out." It was a tone that brooked no disobedience. When the door clanked shut behind them, leaving Nike alone with Frank, her heart sank.
It had all gone to shit. Every single fucking thing. Nike steeled herself for what was to come.
"Where the fuck were you?" Frank asked, leaning back on his chair, feet propped up on his desk, scattering credit chits onto the floor.
"I… I was ambushed," the lie came easily. Her mind was already churning ahead. "They were wearing the Dowager's emblem. I didn't feel safe enough to come back to base on my own."
His eyes narrowed. She could almost see the cogs at the back of his mind turning. "The Guardians?"
Nike nodded. She had made her bed now she had to lie in it. "Yes, they shot me," she went on. "I went and get help from Stitches."
His brows rose. She knew he'd check, but she was confident Stitches would back any lie she told, if not for any other reason than to extort more credits from her.
"Are you lying?" Frank asked, his tone deceptively mild. "You wouldn't lie to the person who scrapped you off the street and made you the Champion you are today, would you?" He stood, chair dragging across the concrete floor roughly. A terrible smile split his mouth, his crooked teeth, yellowing from cigarettes, revealed behind the pull of his lips. A hand rested on her shoulder, its weight heavy. His grip tightened and squeezed. Nike remained upright I can take this, I'm fine. It was her left flank that's screaming at her, her shoulder was fine.
"No, why would I lie?" came the easy lie again.
"What about the kids in your room?" Frank asked, he draped his arm over her shoulder, fingers brushing against her chest.
Nike shrugged off his arm and glared. But her heart jumped at the mention of Alex and Tiny. How the fuck am I supposed to explain them? He laughed at her annoyance.
"They seemed like good recruits. After all, they have been hanging out at our base often enough," she blurted.
"You're picking up your own strays now, Nike?" he snarled, his hand gripped her shoulder and shoved her against the desk.
Her hip connected against the edge solidly. Her side roared its displeasure. She gasped. Her hand pressed against the wound. Frank didn't seem to notice, instead he continued ranting. "Are you trying to take over the Reds huh? Do you think you're so smart now?"
With every question, he pressed his weight against her. Nike tightened her jaw, refusing to give in to his threats but at the same time she couldn't defend herself. It wouldn't end well for her or Alex and Tiny, not if she wanted to continue enjoying the Reds' protection.
"No! Fuck, I—"
"You think just because you're the Champion now, you can do what you like?"
There was a thump against the door. Frank whirled around, releasing her shoulder. "What?" he roared as the door swung open.
Nike panted, hunched over unable to straighten as she tried to breathe through the lancing agony. Though the door was blocking whoever was on the other side, she recognised the voice. "Boss, it's fight day. We need to head off soon."
She never dread fight days before, she had always relished it. It was the stage where she reigned, everyone cheered and screamed her name. Today was different. She was shot, she had just glitched, she hadn't eaten. She was not ready.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
But when Frank turned back to her, Nike shoved all of that under the mask. The mask that said Champion, Enforcer and all around badass. Krycek pushed the door open wider and strode back in. "I need my dose," he said.
Frank smiled. "Ahh yes, your dose. How could I forget?"
Nike stared as he retrieved the vial with its swirling red contents. Krycek smirked, teeth flashing at her. "It's my debut today."
She had no words for him. Her eyes were focused on the syringe, the needle and the Red Sand. Frank clamped his hand on Krycek's head and pushed it forward and down. The needle stabbed into the back of Krycek's neck. Her eyes widened in horror, her body stiffened, her hands clenched into fists. Krycek grunted against it. When he straightened, she saw a flash of red across his eyes. A blue corona erupted from around him. For a split second she could feel his field sweeping over her in a wave, testing and prodding. He grinned, all sharp canines and snaking tongue. "Felt that huh?"
"Go," Frank said, dropping the syringe next to the vial on his desk. "Win."
"Of course," Krycek retorted and left.
Nike let go of the breath she didn't know she was holding. She turned to follow but Frank called out. "Nike, you know what happens if you lose right?" he asked, his finger tapping against the vial before jerking his chin at the blood seeping through her shirt.
She gritted her teeth and walked out without another word.
Nike was worried when she left. Alex and Tiny were going to be alone on base. Though Frank never spoke a word against them joining the Reds, there was going to be a fallout sooner rather than later. She couldn't paint a larger target on their backs than what they've got already. In the end, despite being the Champion, despite being surrounded by the Reds, she didn't have many she could turn to. There were no friends, no allies, no trust. The closest person she had among the Reds was Cutter.
"Watch them for me?" she asked tentatively.
Alex eyed Scars suspiciously. Tiny clutched her shirt tightly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone but the floor. Nike could see the retort on the tip of Alex's tongue but surprisingly she bit her lip and never spoke. Nike swallowed her relief.
Cutter shrugged. "You could get one of them," he gestured at a bunch of the new members, "to watch them."
Nike frowned. "I'm asking you, not them. Come on, they can take care of themselves. Just watch them for me."
Alex was literally vibrating with barbs and retorts unspoken. Nike shot her a look and Alex met her glare head on. Cutter sighed. "Fine, fine." He grabbed Tiny's arm and said, "Boy you sit here."
Tiny yelped and struggled. Alex snarled, "Don't touch him!"
Cutter looked at Nike. His gaze spoke for him.
Nike whirled on Alex and Tiny, hands grabbed them close before sinking down on one knee to speak to them. "I've got to go fight."
"Why can't we come," Tiny wailed, tears threatening to spill. "What if you don't come back? What if you…"
Alex shook him roughly and growled into his ear. "No, we do not say their names anymore. You know this."
Nike's eyes flicked between the two. She was beginining to realise how terrifying it was for them while she glitched out. They had made sure nobody found out about her problem. They had sat for who knew how long with her, unable to do anything but wait. She must have looked like she was dead, after Emma, it must have been fucking terrifying.
She tightened her jaw. This wasn't the time or place to talk about it. Scars was tapping his feet and Krycek was sneering at her. The best thing she could do was win the fucking fight and get back to them. Then maybe, maybe, she could begin to figure it all out. She clenched her fists, suddenly wishing for Burger. The ache in her chest was acute, she almost gasped at the sudden longing. Coughing, she prayed nobody saw the slip.
"Nike, hurry the fuck up," Scars yelled.
She ignored him and looked at what remained of the Strays. They were hers now. And she would fight to make sure they didn't get throw out onto the streets the moment her back was turned. Her hand lifted, starting to reach out towards Tiny and Alex only to flinch back.
No, nobody need to know they are important to me.
Instead she stood. "What the fuck are you talking about, Tiny? I'll always come back. I'm the fucking Champion. Just stay the fuck out of trouble," she snarled instead. "If you have any questions, just ask Cutter."
Tiny stiffened, fear snapped back over his eyes but Alex nodded. The look that passed between them reassured her at least Alex understood. She'd be able to explain to Tiny better than Nike could anyway.
Nike turned away and strode towards Scars and Krycek. "Let's go win a match."
Nike waited. She was always the last fight after all. It was befitting of the Champion to be the anchor show.
She breathed. Chest rising and falling, each breath deliberate and slow. Her hands wind wrappings around her fingers, over her palm and knuckles; back and forth, over and over. The fluorescent light overhead buzzed like the inside of her head. Her thoughts refused to shut up. She was just here less than three days ago.
72 hours and everything had changed.
"Fuck," she cursed, straightening. It was a mistake. Her side flared. "I wasn't even shot, this is just a fucking graze."
Nike unzipped her jacket. The bandages that wrapped around her middle was gone. She hadn't replaced them after she busted her stitches. One pack of medi-gel was all she managed to grab before being forced over to the Underbelly. The antiseptic and analgesic properties helped for a little while, but its effect were wearing off. The wound was open, bleeding slightly and raw. She didn't know how many stitches Stitches had put in but half of them had busted open and the rest looked ready to rip too.
"Shit, shit, shit." She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a pack of frozen peas against the wound. If nothing else, she could numb it.
The door swung open. She dropped the peas and zipped up her jacket, a snarl already on her face at the intrusion. The roar of the crowd swept into her little prep room as Krycek entered. His grin couldn't be any wider. "I've showed her," he laughed, speaking to nobody in particular. "I've fucking showed her. Throw me away, treat me like trash? I had the last laugh!"
He stiffened when he realised Nike was watching. His corona was still shimmering in an aura around him, distorting the air around him like a heat mirage. His knuckles despite the wrappings looked bloodied and raw, bruises was forming just over his arms and legs. Victory was better than any high, she knew from experience. Nothing could wipe that triumphant grin off his face.
"Congratulations on your win," she said evenly.
Krycek snorted. "You won't be keeping your title very long now, Champion."
"Fuck, I'm just trying to be nice."
"Nike, nice? We will never be friends. When you remember, you'll know why."
Nike frowned. She was tired of him messing with her. Always on and on with his cryptic talk of a shared past. He dragged a finger over his sweaty chest, tracing the patch of scarred skin across his chest and up his left shoulder. Now she had a closer look, it looked suspiciously like a burn wound. Images of a burning building, a boy screaming at her as she fell. Nike gasped, blinking furiously. Me? Was that me? Are those not just dreams? Nightmares?
Krycek smirked and turned away, retrieving a towel to clean himself off. Scars popped his head in, "Nike, are you ready?"
She rose, pulling the hood over her head, hand shoved into the pockets. She straightened, stifling the gasp that threatened to undo her paper thin facade. Scars didn't wait, he turned to go. "Come on, credits wait for no man."
She sighed and followed but Krycek called out. As she turned to give him a parting retort, the breath rushed out of her. It was something hard, maybe an elbow, or a fist. It didn't really matter either way. One moment Krycek was an arm's length away, the next he was close enough that his breath tickled her ear.
"Win, Champion."
Lyrics taken from Before I Go by American Authors
