3

Once we're through the gate I emit an audible sigh of relief before squeezing back into the front passenger seat.

Loretta looks at me with a smile, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "This isn't that bad, is it? We'll finish the deliveries then we can have some fun!"

I barely manage a smile back at her before averting my face to look out the passenger-side window, the smile disppearing faster than it appeared. I feel sick and my hands are shaking. I do some quiet breathing excersizes trying to get myself calmed down.

I manage to get things under control as we make our way further into the city. I glance up at one of the large monitors that are scattered around, overlooking the streets. Currently showing is a recording from a previous Motorball game. It shows a blur of violent motion as two cyborgs tear into each other, fighting over possession of the ball. Zipping in between them is a flash of purple that resolves itself into that up-and-coming hero, Alita. She slashes one of the larger cyborgs in the knee with that sleek blade of hers, severing his leg and he goes down. The other one gets tripped up as she performs a lightning-quick spin, slashing him at foot level and wrecking his motive gear. The second cyborg faceplants at high speed and is left in the dust.

Now unopposed, Alita grabs up the ball and speeds off, the camera pulling out for a wider shot. An announcement banner pops up at the bottom of the screen. As I read it my heart sinks a little. I lean back in my seat, the reason for Loretta's badgering me about seeing a game is now clear.

I look over at her and mention conversationally, "So. There's a motorball game tonight."

She looks at me with a slightly sheepish expression. "So, how about that." With a faint shrug and a smile she asks, "You up for going to a game?"

I look at her, expressionless. She looks back at me expectantly. I keep my eyes on her, staying silent until it starts getting awkward.

Then I state simply, "No." And turn to stare straight ahead with my arms folded.

We come to a stop to let some side traffic through.

As we sit there, Loretta turns to me, "Come on, Jason. I've missed so many games already. This could be my last chance to see Alita play for a loooong time."

I look at her. "Hm..."

She looks back with an almost pleading expression.

"No," and I look away.

"Come on, I'm buying. You won't have to pay anything!" The traffic clears up and we start moving again.

"Nah."

"Pleeeease!"

"Aint happenin'."

"It's just one game!" she says with growing annoyance.

"It is indeed," I say somewhat cheerfully. "One game that I won't be going to." I am perhaps having a little too much fun with this whole exchange, caught up in having something that's taking my focus away from the anxiety eating at me.

This exchange goes on for another city block when Loretta suddenly does something I've never seen her do before. With a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel she starts throwing herself back and forth in her seat, blonde hair swinging rapidly back and forth as she cries out in audible frustration.

"Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!"

Since her window is down, several pedestrians are looking at us in confusion as we drive past.

She stops and her hair settles messily around her head. Angrily, she asks, "What is so bad about just going to see a Motorball game? You got some other plans or something?""

It's obvious to me now that this is really important to her and my cavalier responses are only making her more frustrated and angry. That and I suspect the long hours she and her father are working may be taking a toll.

One of Loretta and Henry's rules, mainly for themselves, is no going out alone at night in the city. Loretta especially is a keen observer of that rule, particularly after the string of women being murdered some months ago.

I start getting a bit irate, myself. I hate being pressured into things I don't like doing and right now my depression is amplifying my irritability. "Oh, for-" I stop to make sure I have a lid on my temper and start again. "How about the crowds, for starters."

She looks at me in mild disbelief, "It's just a bunch of fans. They're all cheering for their favorite paladin and having a good time! What's wrong with that?"

Ugh! Paladins! Sure, it's a petty dislike but I hate how that term is used to describe a Motorball player. They certainly don't fit anything remotely resembling what I'm used to as far as paladins go. 'Gladiator' seems like a more apt term.

"Yes!" I say in a more annoyed tone, "Thousands of cheering, screaming, drunken sports fans!" I throw my hands up and wave them while cheering sarcastically, "Yaaay!" I consider telling her about my anxiety attacks but there's a stigma against mental illness here that's worse than where I come from. I trust her and her father more than most people but I can't bring myself to trust them that much.

She pounds the wheel with one fist. "Oh! You are something else! No one else I know acts like this about Motorball or even coming into the city, just you! Anyone else would jump at the chance to go to a game especially if someone else was paying." She's a bit cooler now but I can tell that somehow she's also angrier. "I'm going to see tonight's game and I'm going to see Alita compete! I'll go alone if I have to and you can wait out in the truck and stew!"

I hang my head in defeat, sighing heavily and noisily. 'Some people's kids!', runs irritably through my mind. I pick my head up and look over at her. She looks back at me, waiting.

"Just-" I emit a low growl of annoyance. "Just let me think about it, Ok?"

"You promise you'll really think about it?"

"Yes, but!" I hold up my left hand, index finger pointing up to forstall further comment as I continue. "No promises on an answer you'll like!"

"Alright," she says, cooling down. "Fine. At least you'll think about it."

She's quiet for about a third of a block before asking in a mildly annoyed tone, "Were you used as a motorball when you were a kid or something, is that why you hate the game so much?"

I want to say, 'no, when I was kid I was trout fishing, shootin' guns and racing sled dogs in Alaska around about 600 years before you were born.' Instead I settle for burying my face in my hands and groaning with weary frustration. My glasses get dislodged and fall into my lap. I sigh, pick them up and put them back on as I lean back in the seat.

Shrugging, I look over at her and say, "I don't know what to tell ya. I just don't like the game." I've already decided to go with her, but I wanted to give myself some time to find a way to avoid the whole thing if possible, while also not needing to explain to Henry why I let his daughter go unaccompanied at night in a dangerous city.

Loretta just shakes her head and sighs, clearly unable to grasp why I react the way I do to these things. We finish the drive in silence. The argument has left me feeling a little more drained and I end up dozing off again. I wake up to find that we've arrived at the marketplace where the first of our deliveries are to be made. She pulls up and parks in front of the store, a little grocery-style place. The owner comes out and we offload his order for him. After that he pays Loretta and we head to the next one.

This one is a little diner. An elderly lady comes out to meet us and greets Loretta warmly. We offload her supplies and with a friendly good-bye we're off to our next stop. There are five in total, two of them grocery-store type businesses and two eaterys of various kinds and that butcher shop Henry mentioned. By the time we're done running around, it's almost five pm.

Loretta parks the now-empty truck in an out of the way, but well-traveled side street that's close to a wide street lined with open-air markets. She pulls out a small cell-phone-like device and calls up Henry, letting him know that deliveries are complete and we were going to be back later that night. It's actually a rather flattering reminder of how much I'm trusted that she's willing to be out here alone with me till past dark. Not for the first time, I also think about how odd it is that of all the people on the farm, only she and her father seem to have access to those communicators.

"Come on," she says, climbing out of the cab.

I follow suit and she locks up the vehicle.

She comes around to my side of the truck and stops a short distance away. Looking down, she kicks at the pavement. "I'm sorry I got so mad." She looks up at me, her expression apologetic. "I really, just-"

"You really, really wanted to see your favorite player in action while you had the chance," I say, unable to suppress a smile. "I get it. I'm sorry I was so stubborn, but..." I shrug helplessly unable to express my reasoning for not wanting to go.

"Look, we're off the clock and we have some free time before the game starts, so how 'bout I treat you to dinner to make it up to you?" she offers.

"Well, can't say 'no' to free food," I respond wearily. My limbs feel like they have lead weights on them. I force a smile and say, "Lead the way."

She heads off towards the market street. I take a deep breath in an attempt to banish some of my fatigue and head off after her.

The sun is now low enough in the sky that this part of Iron City is no longer shaded by Zalem, but despite the heat I keep my jacket on. It makes me feel a bit more protected as we move through the crowds toward a little restaurant that we've stopped at on one of my previous trips. I'm surprised I'm able to remember my way as well as I can. Usually I'd need a few more trips through an area to be able to memorize landmarks or street layout. As we walk, I keep brushing my front left pocket, making sure that the wallet I forgot to leave behind is still there.

Along the way are a number of street performers playing music or displaying flashy juggling skills as well as a number of other little talents. Each of them gathering the occasional coins from passerby impressed enough by their performance to give something. It gives the place a lively, almost carnival atmosphere, which does nothing to dispel my anxiety. In fact the noise and the crowds is very nearly setting my teeth on edge. I'm almost light-headed from the pressure of it all. Still, I manage to hold it together.

We get to our destination, a small restaurant that doesn't look to have much interior seating, most of it's patrons sitting at tables arranged neatly along the restaurant front. I pick one of the small circular tables near the entry way and have a seat in one of the two chairs. Loretta takes a seat in the other chair and we begin browsing the menu hanging near the door.

"I've got mine," she says turning to me. "Figured out what you'd like?"

I take a moment to make sure I know what I'm ordering and point at the menu. "That one there, third one down." It's a chicken dish that's not too expensive. I'm not sure, but I think it's mainly Moroccan food they serve here. One time when I was on summer vacation in high school way back in the '80s, I got invited to go to Disneyland with a friend. We stopped at a Moroccan restaurant and I loved the food there. It was a lifetime ago but ordering something similar seems to help make the alienness of Iron City fade just a bit.

"Alright," Loretta says brightly, "I'll go place the order." She gets up and stops as she's about to go inside. "Oh! What do you want for a drink?"

"Water's fine."

"You know I am buying, right?" she says in a teasing tone.

I throw my hands up in a little shrug, "I'm just in the mood for water."

"Alright..." she says with a small sigh and heads inside to place our order.

While she's gone I find my attention drawn to one one of those view screens mounted above the street. On it is more footage of Alita mowing down the opposition on the Motorball track. It's truly impressive the way she seems to just glide through some of her opponents leaving wreckage in her wake. She zips in, there's a flurry of motion and she zips out, spare parts bouncing down the track behind her where there used to be dangerous-looking cyborgs.

I straighten up in my chair with a slight start as Loretta, who just slid unnoticed into her seat, leans over to me. "She's kinda cute, isnt' she?" she says with a wry smile, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

I blink at her, raise one eyebrow of my own as I glance up at the screen where it's changed to show Alita taking on two hulking brutes from an opposing team. She slices through the first one, her signiture curved sword nearly cutting his torso in two before carving into his partner in the same motion. The look on her delicate features is unsettling. It's the look of a cold-blooded killer.

Looking back at Loretta I say in a dubious tone, "Yeah... I suppose that's one way to describe her."

Loretta leans back in her chair with a incredulous look. "Don't tell me you have a problem with cyborgs, too."

With a slight shake of my head I look back at her with a deadpan expression, "Got no problem with cyborgs. You don't think I've got a problem with your father, do you? As a general rule, I try to steer clear of getting involved with humanoid anti-tank weapons."

Loretta gets a confused look on her face at 'anti-tank weapon' and I realize I likely just slipped up again. In retrospect I don't think that's a term that's widely known or used around here. Fortunately, as with my other such minor slips, she simply let's it go.

Whatever else I've heard about this Alita, her propensity for violence as well as her talent with it is something I find unnerving. I would probably think differently under other circumstances but there's one thing about Iron City that held true for my time as well; those with power, prey on those without it and there aint a damn thing anyone's willing or able to do about it around here.

Alita is frighteningly powerful from everything I've gathered, both in and out of the arena, so people like Loretta and me without any real power? Probably little more than insects to someone like her. I've learned over the years that people with the power to do whatever they want, to whoever they want will often do so. What they choose to do with that power often leaves a lot of other people to suffer with the consequences. I have no doubts that Loretta would quickly change her tune about Alita if the two were to ever meet face to face.

"You know," Loretta says, sliding a glass of water over to me then picking up her own drink, "you really could learn to loosen up a bit. You take things so seriously sometimes."

I open my mouth to answer and she quickly interrupts,

"Oh! Maybe you could try asking Natira out!" Lowering her voice to a more conspiratorial tone, "I've been hearing, and seeing, that she really seems to like you."

Annoyance nearly flares up into anger. I clamp down on it, keeping my expression even as I wrap a hand around the glass of water and slowly pull it to me. I know she means well, but I really don't need this right now.

With a slight hesitation I say, "Gee, Loretta." I look up at her with my eyebrows raised, my eyes widened as I try to put on a hopeful look and say with a sarcastic earnestness, "Do ya... do ya really think so?"

Her mouth presses into a thin line and her expression hardens almost imperceptibly. She sits there like that for a second. "I can't believe you! There's an attractive woman working right alongside you that's been trying to get your attention and you won't even pretend to be interested?" Her outburst draws the attention of nearby patrons who look over at us with curiosity, most of whom quickly turn back to to their own business.

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. I let my face slide into a more neutral expression, eyes slightly narrowed, preparing to let her vent.

She leans in a bit, lowering her voice, "Everyone else has a life outside of work. Everyone else hangs out and has some fun occasionally. Except you." Through the hint of anger I can see real concern in her eyes. "You don't like Motorball, you've always got some excuse for not wanting to socialize with the others. You hardly ever talk to anyone about anything that's not work related and never about yourself. No one even knows if you have any family or friends or even where you used to live!"

She leans in closer and lowers her voice to a whisper. "Dad and I know you've got secrets, we understand that." She jabs an index finger firmly onto the tabletop to emphasize her next point. "But you've proven yourself to be someone we can count on." She then rests her elbows on the table, her expression softening, "Partly because of that, he and I have come to think of you as a friend. As friends, we're getting worried, if you don't mind my saying so."

Now I feel bad for mocking her about bringing up Natira. It's difficult for me to wrap my mind around the idea of them holding me in such high regard. I close my eyes and rub my forhead with the palm of my right hand.

Wearily I say, "No, I don't mind you saying so." I refold my right arm across my chest. "But what's that got to do with anything?"

She answers in a more normal volume, "Dad and I have noticed that you've been looking a bit more haggard, slowing down a little. You also seem to be a lot more stressed and distracted. We're worried that your not having a life outside of work is taking a toll on you. Even Dad and I still find the time for things other than constant work."

"Is that what this is all about?" I ask calmly. "You and Henry think I need to relax so you bring me into the city to go to the arena and try to set me up with Natira?"

She sighs and looks down at her drink. "No, that last part with Natira was something I thought of just now. We really are short-handed with the workload and Dad trusts you more than anyone to make the trip with just the two of us." With a faintly sheepish look she shrugs. "I figured it was a good opportunity to try and, I dunno..." she pauses as if searching for what to add.

"Get me to unwind?" I finish for her. I feel a smile form at hers and Henry's concern for my well-being. I shake my head a little and take a drink of water.

Looking somewhat embarrassed, Loretta leans back in her chair, letting her hands fall in her lap. "I'm sorry if that upsets you but I really was just trying to help," she reaches up with one hand and slowly rotates her drinking glass on the table, fiddling with it as she talks. "I guess I just underestimated how much you hate Motorball." She looks up at me with a trace of sadness in her eyes, "Guess I also misread that whole thing with Natira."

I put my glass down. My brows descend over my eyes as I look at her, somehow a little angry with myself for acting the way I did in the face of her concern. "I do like Natira. She's friendly, attractive, I even like spending time with her..." I stop, unsure of how to continue without digging myself into a deeper hole.

"Then why not go with it?" Loretta asks with a hint of earnestness.

I sit there for a moment trying to come up with anything but I'm at a complete loss, mind totally blank. Loretta's words about her and Henry's trust in me go through my mind. On impulse I decide to take a risk on a different subject.

I lean forward, rest my arms on the table and say in a low whisper, "I don't have any I.D."

Loretta looks at me with a confused expression. "Then get a new one."

I lean in a bit closer. "I'm not in the system." I raise my eyebrows and look at her intently, hoping she sees what I'm getting at. It takes a few seconds but realization seems to come to her.

"It won't be a new I.D.," I continue. "It'll be my first I.D." My heart's pounding. I pray I'm not making a big mistake in trusting her. I glance around, hoping no one heard that. No one's paying us any attention. At least not openly.

Her eyes widen a bit as she leans in, whispering with a hint of incredulity, "Is that what you've been keeping secret this whole time? The fact that you don't have any identification? That you're," she lowers her voice even further, "not in the Factory information net?"

I turn my hands up and make a shrugging motion, "Pretty much. With the Factory handing down death sentences for so many things, I didn't wanna speak up about it. Hell, it's one step away from being executed for jaywalking."

Our faces now inches apart, Loretta looks faintly relieved. "Well, that's not that big a deal." She gets another confused look on her face. "Wait, what's jayw-?" She rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively, "Never mind."

Surprised at her answer to my I.D. problem, I let my voice get slightly louder, "It's not? Really?"

Her expression becomes crestfallen. "Well, come to think of it, it wouldn't have been four months or so ago. Ever since that attack on the Factory and Vector's death, compounded with those bandit raids to the north, security has really clamped down with that new law. Maybe it is best if you keep this to yourself, at least for now." With a faintly furrowed brow she adds, "I mean, I don't think they'll kill you on the spot, but you'll probably be denied services for a lot of things and you sure as hell won't be allowed through the gates. And if you're not in the network, I have no idea if they'll even issue you one at all with the way things have gone. You're lucky they've only really been checking the drivers of farm vehicles up to now."

I nod solemnly, momentarily flooded with a feeling of relief, not just because I can trust her with something this sensitive but also that it's not a 'shoot on sight' kind of offense. I recall my earlier slip-up with my father's suicide and there's a flash of irritation at myself for not keeping a tighter rein on my mouth. This fatigue and lack of focus are going to cost me if I'm not more careful.

There's also bitter disappointment. I could have applied for identification and removed this whole I.D. thing as a concern if I hadn't waited, if I hadn't let fear and paranoia get the better of me.

Loretta's eyes suddenly go wide and she quietly gasps, "You weren't born in the city or the surrounding farms, were you?" Her eyes get a little wider as her eyebrows climb just a bit higher. "And you're not an exile from Zalem either! That's why you seem so unfamiliar with the laws around here. I thought it was kinda strange, the way you often seem so unsure about basic things."

I try to keep my expression neutral as I search for a believable excuse, but she keeps going on her own.

I can see her mind working as she starts piecing things together, "When you first showed up at the farm, you were too clean-cut to have been one of the renegades or bandits that live in the badlands," she excitedly whispers. I can almost see her mind working through all the little things that didn't add up, things that I either couldn't do something about or didn't think to. "The odd, well-maintained clothes. The strange way you talk sometimes, the unplaceable accent. Can't believe I didn't notice it sooner."

I panic a little as I attempt to preemptively head off any questions into my past, "Look, I'm just a little new. I've never caused you or Henry trouble, and I have no intention of starting now, okay?"

"If you weren't born around here, then... where are you from?" She leans back a little into her chair, looking at me intently as if seeing me for the first time.

I'm suddenly thinking this was a bad idea. There's no way I could tell her the truth, she wouldn't believe me anyway. I draw back from her slightly as I try to come up with some kind of response. "Uh..." is about all I manage when we're distracted by a comotion behind me.

Down the street, back in the direction that the truck is parked there's shouting and a few people are hurrying past us, quickly heading away from whatever's going on. Head's turn as other people take notice of something happening. A crowd has gathered, blocking my view of whatever's going on.

I give Loretta a questioning look. She looks back with a vaguely worried expression and shrugs. Someone screams for help, a man from the sound of it. It's like a switch flips in the back of my head. My fatigue and anxiety vanish, all my attention suddenly focused toward the direction that scream came from.

I stand up quickly, knocking my chair over, then turn to Loretta, "I'm gonna see what's goin' on."

I hurry towards the disturbance before she can say anything. There's shouting in that direction but I can't make out what's being said due to the loud buzzing of the crowd. I push my way through to where I can see what's going on, Loretta right behind me. I'm expecting to see some kind of vehicle wreck or something like that. Instead there's a man half sitting, half lying on the ground with his back to me as he's holding his right arm like it's broken. It's quickly obvious that the man is down on his luck. He's probably in his mid-thirties, wearing a tattered longcoat and his clothes are well worn. On the ground next to him is an old baseball-cap that had probably covered his long, matted hair before it was knocked off.

Standing over him is another man, built like one of the biggest line-backers I've ever seen. He's dressed in some kind of old but well-kept black leathers, kind of like a biker but more formal somehow, more stylish. For some reason it brings to mind hired mob muscle. He is very obviously heavily augmented. Both arms and legs are very noticeably cybernetic even under the leather, and he may have more augmentations under that leather jacket. This guy has what looks like an old duffel or travel bag in his hands and he's turning it inside out like he's searching for something.

"You said you had more!" the line-backer roars, his face contorted in anger. "Where is it?!" He pulls out more random items and what looks like trash, throwing it to the ground.

The man on the ground is clearly terrified. "Please, I gave you all I had!" He slowly crawls backwards away from the leather-clad cyborg using his left elbow. "I have a little money, you can have that!"

From what I can see it appears that the larger fellow is robbing the man on the ground and is likely going inflict worse than a broken arm if he doesn't find whatever he's looking for. For a second, my eyes leave the two men in the middle of the street and I take in the crowd. Everyone is standing around watching, not one is making a move to even try to help. Unsurprising. Even in my own time this is how things would often go. Hell, on more than one occasion I'd read a news story about someone who was being stabbed to death in the middle of the street or something equally terrible was happening to someone and no one lifted a finger even if there was a whole crowd gathered.

One of the people in the crowd is wearing a sort of light armor, armed with at least three different melee weapons that I can see. He's also heavily augmented, in all likelyhood one of those bounty hunters they call hunter-warriors around here. He stands there watching things unfold like it's just another form of entertainment. If the bounty hunter aint moving then this cyborg in the leathers likely has no bounty on him yet. Which means no one's going to help.

All of a sudden there's a thousand things running through my head but it's all going by so fast that it's as if it were just static. A distant, cool anger takes hold and on impulse I step forward towards the scene unfolding in the street. Someone grabs my jacket and I turn to see that it's Loretta.

Her eyes are wide as she tries to hold onto me. "What are you doing?!"

I look back at her, intending to respond but nothing worth saying comes to mind. There's no time to explain anyway. I either act now or in all likelihood watch a man die. I pull away from her and keep going.

The cyborg is getting more enraged and the man on the ground is cowering, trying to crawl away. It looks like the two of them are continuing their verbal exchange but for some reason I can't actually hear what's being said. I can't actually hear much of anything. With each step I can feel fear rising up.

'What am I doing?!' runs through my panicked mind. Have I suddenly gone suicidal and didn't even realize it? I can't fight this guy. I've got no special training or skills. What the hell am I going to do when I get there? Despite all that, the anger never leaves me and it's like something is driving me forward. I can't, I won't stand by and watch a person die in front of me, not if I could have done something about it.

By the time I reach the pair, my legs are feeling rubbery and about the only thing I can feel is that anger and a strangely distant terror at what I'm doing. The world takes on an unreal, dreamlike aspect. I look down at the man on the ground. He looks up at me, his features contorted in fear and pain. Upon seeing me it's as if he's silently pleading for help. I can see now that the arm he's cradling is definately broken. There's a strange calm that comes over me as I look up at the towering cyborg. He's looking at me like he can't quite figure out what he's seeing.

I'm not sure how but I manage to speak in a calm and collected manner, "Howdy." Amazingly, he just stands there listening as I talk. "I noticed there seems to be a bit of trouble here. I was just about to sit down to eat, care to join me?" I gesture back towards the restaurant with my thumb. "How about I get you something and we can talk about it?"

I'm not sure what I'll accomplish but if I can get him focused on something else maybe this situation can be defused without anyone getting hurt.

For a moment the big guy looks like he's about to calm down, like this might actually work. He drops the duffel bag and looks confused for a moment, as if he's not sure what's going on. Then in the blink of an eye his demeanor changes. It's like someone or something else takes over. I've seen this sort of thing before, and it's clear now that this guy's on some kind of drug. Maybe even more than one.

The look in his eyes changes and his face contorts in rage, his lips peel back as he bares his teeth. He roars something at me in some other language as his right arm comes up to backhand me.

He's so fast. I can see the blow coming but there's no dodging it, no sidestepping it. I'm being attacked by a heavily augmented man who's obviously raging out on some chemical cocktail. I am a fifty-three year old, Air Force veteran who never really had any combat training and who is at this moment, entirely too sober.

His blow lands on the right side of my head near my eye, catching me mid-blink. The world is sent spinning wildly and I can feel myself tumble across the pavement. When everything comes to a stop there's a sudden explosion of pain on the right side of my head and I can't see out of my right eye. I'm lying on my stomach, badly stunned and barely able to move. I hear someone scream my name in a terrified voice. I'm struggling to pick myself up and I can feel something warm running down the right side of my face towards my nose and mouth. A thin stream of blood is pouring onto the pavement off the tip of my nose.

There's a sudden impact on my left leg at the knee and a new explosion of agony rips through me. I open my mouth to scream, but I don't know if any sound actually comes out. There's a second impact on my right leg at about the same place and this time I can feel my bones crunch under the impact.

The pain is so intense that I'm hit with a wave of overwhelming nausea. There's a sudden need to vomit as I'm blasted with an onslaught of agony like nothing I've ever experienced before. White-hot pain rips through my legs, and the breath is torn from my lungs as I feel a metal hand grip my left forearm with a crushing force, then darkness.