A/N: what is up my people?! We're back! Several developments have occurred since the last chapter. First and foremost, I've finally posted a new story! It's a Cyberpunk 2077/Halo xover called A Better Tomorrow that serves as a companion to this. I've seen a few of you noticed but I thought I'd give it a little shout out. The second development is we've finally crossed the 500 fav threshold! And right after we crossed the 1 million word mark! Thank you, everyone, for the support you've all shown the story, whether you started this journey with me three and a half years ago or you've joined along the way. As for this chapter, Castle seems to be getting a bit desperate. Pulling both Nate and Damon into a match on their own? We'll see how that works out for her. Anyway, that's enough rambling from me, please leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 86: Enough

Raiders were everywhere, surrounding the ring, cheering and jeering so loudly that, even with the audio in my helmet at normal levels, it was triggering the sound dampening usually reserved for gunfire. The crowd was pressing in around me, more interested in the ongoing fight than they were in me, apparently. Maybe it was because they saw this as payback for what we did to their people. Maybe this felt like they were taking back some kind of control, like Castle. I don't know. What I do know is every part of this situation had me so uncomfortable, I had to lock my arms and legs in place to keep from doing something that would get Nate killed.

The ex-soldier was in the 30-meter-wide ring fighting with one of the prisoners. It was the third one. By now, he was covered in soft, tan dirt that made up the floor of the arena. I knew the material well, it was meant to deaden the impact from throws and grapples, minimizing the chance of injury.

It got everywhere. There were times I'd spend 10 minutes in the shower after hand-to-hand training just to get it off.

Turns out, Castle's idea of fair involved putting Nate in a series of one-on-one fights with the other prisoners. He had to get through 16 of them. The conditions were simple: he won a round if he knocked his opponent to the ground and they couldn't get up, or he pinned them, they won a round if they killed Nate.

Real fair.

But there was a catch. Always a goddamn catch with Castle.

Nate could opt out at any time. He could call it quits. If he did that, I'd take his place. And I'd have to fight all of the remaining prisoners hand-to-hand on my own.

"Sounds fun, right?" Castle had said with that same mock sincerity she had earlier. "You get to watch Nate get killed, or you get to kill the rest of the prisoners."

"Kill?" I asked.

The Raider nodded. "Yeah, forgot about that. You don't get to leave the ring until you kill the rest. For every one of those prisoners", she stabbed a finger at the row of men who were in relatively good shape, "who leaves the ring alive, one of your friends dies." She stuck a hand up like she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, and Nate, if you decide you want to try and be a hero, take a dive and give up so these prisoners don't have to fight Damon- if you die, whoever is left has to fight Damon anyway."

Nate's eyes narrowed but I could see the idea flash through his head as if it were my own.

"I could tell them what her plan is. If they let me win, they won't have to fight Damon."

"They don't know that", Castle added, as if reading both of our minds. "They've been told the opposite. If they don't kill you, they'll have to fight Damon. And that's how it's gonna stay." She sneered at Nate, the ever-present smile no longer there. "We'll have two people in there with you. They hear any talking, you and all your friends are dead."

As I watched, the ex-soldier sidestepped a charge from his third opponent, leaving his left leg out just far enough to clip his foot as he went by. It wasn't a forceful takedown and wouldn't do any real damage, but it put the man on the ground.

But Nate didn't take advantage. Instead, he backed up, never turning away from his opponent.

Counterintuitively, it was the right move. This was number 3 out of 16 opponents he'd be facing. No matter how good of a fighter you were, or how good a shape you were in, taking down 16 consecutive fighters who were, in their minds, fighting for their lives was next to impossible. You get fatigued, you make mistakes, and that's it.

Especially considering all three of the prisoners so far have been reasonably skilled combatants. No doubt, that's why the Raiders kept them in good shape. They were the showpieces. And they brought them out to play.

The ex-soldier bought himself 10 seconds before he had to defend again. That was 10 seconds to catch his breath, 10 seconds to let his muscles recover, let the lactic acid drain, and 10 seconds less constant strain on him. It wasn't much, but a little bit over a long fight goes far.

Even so, I'm not sure it'll be enough.

Despite all of our best efforts, no one was in good shape.

Nate threw a sharp jab to keep his opponent away. From what I could tell, he was more of a knife fighter than a puncher. The way he snapped his left hand forward stunk of the precursor to a follow-up strike, move your opponent off their spot and get them off balance before going in with the knife. He didn't though, he continued circling to his right.

The infantryman had been in several fights since arriving here. He hid it well, but they were mounting. And that's on top of the stress of being held prisoner by Raiders. With the fighting closing in on 10 minutes, that meant this would be an hour ordeal if he made it all the way through. He wasn't breathing hard yet but his sweat was drawing tracks in the dirt caked on his forehead and the normally tan color had darkened where it clung to wet parts of his shirt.

So I had to start asking the question: would he let himself be killed to prevent me from going in? Or, maybe a better question was, would he be too stubborn to come out before he was killed since, in the event he was, I'd have to fight anyway?

The prisoner tried to throw a cross at Nate's head. The ex-soldier stepped to the side. Instead of striking a block, which the man probably expected, his fist passed through thin air. Whether it was his desperation or something else, he'd screwed up. His weight was shifting forward too far over his front foot. His back foot came up to catch himself but the damage was already done.

With his center of mass outside his base, the man was off balance. Nate did take advantage of this opening.

Practiced ease belied the infantryman's experience as he turned his sideways momentum into forward motion. He stepped beside his opponent and placed his right foot in the path of the man's. The prisoner tried to respond, swinging an elbow at Nate, but it was too late. His foot caught on Nate's and, ducking under the swinging elbow, the ex-soldier uncoiled into his opponent's side.

Lifting as much as he was tackling, Nate leveraged his weight over his opponent and slammed him to the ground. The ex-soldier had his shoulder under the other man's arm and used that to keep him pinned in place until he could twist off to the side, taking the same arm with him.

The Raiders around me were going wild, their shouts and jeering redoubling as the two went to the ground. It felt like the noise was trying to press its way through my helmet and skull, straight into my brain. It was painful to be surrounded by Raiders like this and not do anything. But if I did, my people would die.

That's always the weight hanging over my head: the threat to the support team.

Nate scrambled behind his dazed opponent, keeping his arm twisted until he was able to get into a rear choke.

And, 15 seconds later, the third fight was over.

It wasn't dissimilar to how each of the other two fights ended. Nate seemed to like grappling. With his size, I would have expected him to prefer to fight standing up. It was almost as if he'd learned to fight against people larger than him.

He didn't get a break, though. By the time he'd released the third opponent and rolled to his feet, the fourth was trudging toward him, gaunt, tanned, and weathered face set in a glower. Unlike the one he'd just beaten, this guy was about the same size as Nate.

Then the fighting started again.

This was another part of the strain. Against a single fighter, you only had to learn what one person would do. The mental strain associated with having to quickly analyze and adapt to a string of different opponents would only add to the difficulty.

I stole a glance at Castle. She was off to my right. If anything, she looked bored, of all things. Her arms were crossed, head lolled to one side, watching the fight through squinted eyes.

While half of me was watching the fight, figuring out if and how I could help Nate, the other half was trying to work out what her play here was. Three possibilities had come to mind. First, she was expecting Nate to tap out, me to go in, and kill the rest of the prisoners to save the support team. Second, she was expecting Nate to die, and me to go in and kill the rest of the prisoners to save the support team. Third: one of the first two things happening, but I don't kill the rest of the prisoners and she kills… some of the support team.

What would she get out of those possibilities? If her goal is to break me, I'd imagine she thinks Nate, someone she believes is at the center of my resistance to playing her game, dying would 'free' me of that, or something. She may think deciding to kill the prisoners to save my people would do the same thing. She had, after all, told me she knew fighting the prisoners so far had troubled me. Maybe she thinks that's because I'm lying to myself about it and doing this would break through that lie.

My eyes drifted back to the fight. Nate was making space, trying to keep the newest opponent away while he bought himself more time. I don't know if the other man knew that's what Nate was doing but he was content with that, for some reason.

A small part of me still had to ask the question: what if I am? What if she's right and the side of me that would love nothing more than to go in the ring and end this wants to do that because… I want to kill those other prisoners. Regardless of whether or not it's because I'd be trading their lives for people on the support team.

Even with everything that was going on, I couldn't lie to myself about one thing: I enjoy fighting. And, usually, that means someone's ending up dead.

Does that mean I enjoy killing people?

Does that mean I'm lying to myself about all of this?

Nate was the one who took the initiative in this round and, after the first strike, I figured out why. This opponent was larger than his last, but he was less skilled. The ex-soldier's first punch, a hard jab, landed straight to the man's sternum. He struggled to stay on his feet, retreating from the advancing infantryman.

No… I don't think I'm lying to myself. I told Castle she was wrong about me. Because she was; I wasn't born to kill. I was turned into this by the Covenant and by ONI. And… I have to blame myself for this too. I can't put all the blame on other people, even if I'd only been five. I knew it was wrong, I must have. I'd just blocked out that part of my brain, the conscience, the voice that told me what I was doing, what was being done to me, wasn't right.

Other IIIs had turned out a lot better than me. The ones who survived, anyway.

The ex-soldier's opponent managed to recover and swing a hard cross at Nate. He stepped inside the punch and drove an elbow into the man's chest. That sent him stumbling back.

So then, the question is, how do I solve this problem? I don't want to kill any more prisoners. These people didn't do anything to us, they don't deserve to be in a fight with me. They're here because their settlements were attacked and they were captured. They're here because the Raiders see them as things to play with rather than people.

And, from a pragmatic side, if I do go out there and kill more of them, the rest will be less likely to help us escape.

I looked over at the row of prisoners on the left side of the ring, tense, awaiting their turn. Buck was there, watching the fight. He noticed me looking at him and turned to meet my gaze. The man's bearded, unkempt face was grim and serious. It didn't look angry, though. Shouldn't he be angry at me? I killed Wendy. The two of them were close.

Was he not angry because it had been her decision as much as it had been mine? Or because Castle had forced us into that position?

No way of knowing unless I ask, and I doubt that's going to happen right now.

The crowd erupted around me and my eyes jerked back to the fight. Nate was tumbling to the ground, the prisoner's arms wrapped around his waist.

But the ex-soldier wasn't going down without taking his pound of flesh. It was hard to see, but I've been part of enough fights to know what happened. As they went to the ground, Nate jammed his knee into the man's side and, when they landed, the awkward impact dislodged the prisoner's hold.

Nate wasn't out of danger yet. While the man didn't have Nate around the waist anymore, he was still on top. That being said, that shot to the ribs would have hurt. Most experienced fighters have developed some strategy to cope with pain. This guy hadn't come up with one.

There are a lot of different ways people react. In this case, Nate's opponent leaned in, scrambling for another hold while clearly favoring his left side. Not only did that mean whatever grip he managed would probably be compromised, but it would be slow. If you're inexperienced in pain management, it's usually better to take a moment to recover than throw yourself into a half-assed assault.

So, as the man tried to grab for Nate's arms, the ex-soldier managed to pull a knee up between them and used the leverage to create space. He then used that space to launch a tight hook into the left side of the man's head.

That's the part where someone with more experience would have been able to block or avoid it.

Even if Nate hadn't been the one to initiate, this was a ground game now. Unless the other guy managed to get back to his feet, this was pretty much over.

I allowed my mind to wander back to the questions bouncing around my head. As much as what I've done here bothers me, as many questions as I have about myself, I'm confident killing these prisoners wouldn't drive me over an edge. Good or bad, I've gotten very good at compartmentalizing things over the years.

If I ended up losing more people from the support team? Including Nate? That would hurt. A lot. Would it break me, though? I don't know. Maybe. What I do know-

Nate and his opponent were still struggling on the ground. The other prisoner managed to land a hard shot to the side of Nate's stomach. That could do some damage if the ex-soldier hadn't been prepared. But, outside of a wince, Nate didn't respond.

That was good. He still has a long way to go. I had to give Nate credit: he's a very good fighter. It hasn't been something I've gotten to see much of but the almost two decades of experience showed.

What I do know is, if I lose the support team, I wouldn't break in Castle's direction. I'd make it my personal mission to turn this base into a smoldering crater.

At the end of the day, all that matters is Castle is wrong about me. I might be considering ways we could wipe out a brigade-size force, but there's a reason for that. And that isn't because I enjoy it.

"He's better than I thought", Castle said as she watched. I barely heard it under the din of the crowd even though she was only a few meters away.

For once, I had to agree. A minute after the two of them had gone to the ground, Nate was clamping down on his opponent in a triangle hold.

It was odd, the best way I could describe his fighting was "inconsistent". The issue wasn't talent or experience, it just seemed like he didn't have a definite style. He fought like someone who did whatever he could to win. Throughout a long career, that molded itself into what I'm seeing. An inconsistent but strangely cohesive technique. I had to respect it.

A few seconds later, Nate was back on his feet and the next fighter was coming at him.

There was something wrong. That last guy took something out of him. Nate was trying to hide it but, judging by how he was holding his left arm low, his left shoulder was bothering him. For a right-handed fighter, that's a problem.

He was hyperventilating, trying to get his wind back as fast as possible. It was dangerous and, in excess, can lead to complications but… there weren't many options. That last guy wasn't a good fighter, but he was large, heavy, and, probably, strong. Even if Nate didn't struggle with him technically, it was a draw on his waning strength.

And then the next one was on him.

What can I do? Castle made it clear Nate had to be the one to make the call. Of course, if I decided to jump in the ring, there wasn't much they could do about it but I would just be forfeiting their lives at that point.

Would Nate go until he couldn't? Until one of the prisoners killed him? And, if he did, would he be doing it to protect the prisoners from me, or me from myself? Because… if the question is these prisoners or the support team, I'll choose the support team.

At least, I think I will.

As Nate contended with the fifth opponent, I looked at Buck again. I didn't know when he'd fight Nate. The man was taller than Nate by a few centimeters and, even with the obvious lack of adequate food, probably around the same weight. He was lean and wiry. Despite the Raiders' treatment, he looked like he was stronger than the ex-soldier. He's trained and experienced. Even if he isn't a better technician than Nate, I know he can fight. Nate would most likely lose to him right now. Actually, I'd bet on it.

Buck turned to meet my gaze again.

What could I do? I can't warn them, can I?

I shook my head, slow and deliberate. Hopefully, he'd see it across the two dozen meters between us.

The crowd cheered again as Nate took a left hook to the chin. He stumbled back but righted himself before his current opponent could take advantage.

This wouldn't last much longer. Four people. He's beaten four people coming at him nonstop. After a week of stress and fear and intense physical exertion. And I knew what he was dealing with, the constant concern of an encroaching panic attack, the fears it would bring, and that it would almost guarantee his death.

My mind brought back my first one, watching Alpha company crumble under the Covenant counter-offensive. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think- and when we'd been in the motor pool, Nate had kept it together well enough none of them noticed. That must have taken a remarkable effort. It's something I never managed.

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him it was enough, to stop and let me step in.

But I couldn't. I don't think he'd listen. Whatever and whoever he was fighting to protect, the pain and exhaustion he had to have been feeling didn't register in the few glimpses I caught of his face. I've seen that look before. Eyes so focused they could drill through diamond, expressionless features, and movements that, despite everything, were still fluid, if sluggish and a little sloppy now.

The more prisoners he's able to get through, the fewer I'll have to fight…

Was that his game? He was trying to do damage control? Something tells me, with Castle running the show, it wouldn't matter.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Buck was still looking at me. I shook my head again.

He shrugged. The motion almost looked… resigned. It carried the same weight I saw from Kellogg before I shot him. Like he knew his life was about to end, and was relieved.

It doesn't have to. I shook my head for the third time.

Buck shrugged again and turned back to the fight.

Goddammit.

My throat tightened.

Helpless. I felt helpless.

Nate managed to avoid a wild haymaker from this latest opponent and retaliated with a hard, open-handed strike to the hinge of his jaw.

The man's lights turned out and he dropped to the dirt.

Five.

Another trudged out of line and I watched Nate draw himself back up. His shirt clung to him with sweat. All of the dirt stuck to it was dark brown now. He wiped his face with it and left a mess of soaked dirt across his hair and forehead.

Then he stepped forward to face the sixth opponent.

How can I be so useless right now? I'm a fucking SPARTAN and I'm here, standing on the goddamn sidelines, watching this happen. How have I not figured a way out of this yet? How have I not been able to beat Castle at anything yet? How did I let things get to this point?

Maybe I was a better pure combatant than Fourier but, goddammit, he would have found a way out of this- no, to hell with that. He wouldn't have gotten himself into this situation in the first place.

Nate was struggling now. The punches and kicks he'd been slipping to this point were blocked now. The openings he'd been able to take advantage of were left unused.

Even though his face was still the same, determined stare, I could see his body failing him.

Then I remembered when I'd seen him wear that face before.

It was the first time I'd met him, back in Sanctuary, once he'd learned about what had happened to his world. When he decided to go out after Shaun with or without my help. It was that same determination that allowed him to set aside his concerns about whatever he'd find in this new, unknown world to go search for his son.

He had that same determination now.

Nate's opponent dove for him and, unlike before, he wasn't able to slip it.

The man drove his shoulder into Nate's waist and they both tumbled to the ground.

Instead of trying to stop the fall, Nate allowed the momentum to keep him tumbling backward, rolling out from under the prisoner.

Despite a Herculean effort, the ex-soldier managed to throw himself back at the recovering man. He, sloppily, aimed his shoulder at his opponent's head. It missed, hitting him in the neck, but it still put Nate in a good position. He scrambled onto the man's chest and threw an uppercut into his chin. It rocked his head back and, with another to the side of his jaw, he threw his hands up to defend.

Nate took advantage, grabbing the man's left arm and twisting. The ex-soldier fell away, dragging his arm with him, and trapped his opponent in an arm bar.

Six.

Then Buck stepped forward. He wasn't wearing the same sort of determination as Nate, but it wasn't far off.

And I knew Buck wouldn't stop until one of them was dead.

A pair of images shot through my mind so fast and so hard, it almost put me in a daze. The first was our first trip off-world. My family's. Both of my parents had been so excited to take my sister and me, looking back on it now, they almost looked like kids themselves. I remembered sitting next to my dad on the shuttle, he'd given me the window seat, staring out into the dark, vastness of space as we flew from the space elevator. We hadn't gone far, just to what had been, essentially, an amusement park on my home planet's moon. That hadn't mattered to them or us. We were in space.

The second was the attack.

I… remembered how my mom died, fucking Jackals. My dad though- I never took the time to dig up that memory.

It presented itself to me now.

He'd been one of the last holdouts. A plasma bolt had burned his left arm and shoulder badly. He was firing an old militia-issued 9mm pistol as best he could with one hand. 9mm. That wouldn't have done a goddamn thing to any set of Covenant armor. It was back from the pre-war days when a lot of the things they had to fight were, ironically, bandits from outlying areas. I, of course, hadn't known that at the time.

And then he was gone. No preamble, no heroic moment of self-sacrifice, taking out five of the attacking Covenant with his last act. Just a hail of plasma bolts crashing through a blown-out wall that caught him and one of the other last defenders.

A torrent of emotions clogged my mind as I watched Nate climb to unsteady feet. There were too many I- I couldn't process them all.

But I knew one thing.

I was not going to fuck this chance up. No one else is dying for me. Not to protect me, my conscience, or whatever else someone wants to say.

Not while I can still fight for both.

"ENOUGH!"

I don't know how loud the shout was but it was loud enough both Buck and Nate looked at me, eyes wide with surprise. They'd heard me over the wild crowd that had been losing its collective mind. The Raiders smelled the blood in the water, they knew they were about to watch someone get beat to death.

That's stopping now.

This was against Castle's rules but I didn't care. It might not be the 'right' solution but, right now, I'd beat Castle by breaking her rules.

A confused frown flashed across Nate's face before understanding took hold. He blinked and shook his head. His mouth opened but nothing came out. His arms were trembling. He looked like he'd collapse at any moment.

The crowd's cheers had turned into jeering. They were upset their entertainment had been stopped.

Too bad for them.

"Damon", I heard Castle warn over the wave of expletives and boos, "he hasn't given up and he isn't dead."

Too bad for you too. I ignored her and stalked toward the two men. The Raiders that had been acting as 'referees' placed themselves between me and them. I just stopped myself from removing them, eyes still fixed on Nate.

"You aren't doing my fighting anymore", I told him. "You've done enough." There wasn't a goddamn thing he could do to change it either.

The ex-soldier blinked again.

And then he took a long, deep breath. He sagged on legs I knew were closer to noodles than limbs by this point. His shoulders fell and he just managed to stay on his feet.

"Alright", he rasped, barely able to force enough air through his lungs to form the word. It was all he could manage before turning away from Buck and limping back toward the edge of the ring. He was in a lot of pain.

Castle passed him and stopped a few meters away from me, eyes narrowed. It was then I realized, while the crowd wasn't silent, it had quieted to the point she didn't have to raise her voice.

"You didn't wait", she said.

"You're right." I didn't see the need to expand on it any further. She knew I knew what she would do now- or at least, what she was supposed to do now. This told her I didn't care about whatever threat came next. It was up to her whether she wanted to throw what leverage she had away when I'd already made my decision.

The Raider stood there, holding my gaze with a glare I'm sure she thought was withering. I've seen better.

"Buck!" she snapped after the pause lasted long enough for the crowd to drop almost completely silent. "Get the rest of your people over here. You have 15 seconds."

With that, Castle stomped back to join Nate and her guards at the side of the ring.

Nate had managed to fight his way through six. That left me with 10. Even if I hadn't gone through more time training than most people spend in the military, and even if I hadn't been through the fire countless times, the advantage my augmentations and armor gave me in a hand-to-hand fight against regular people was almost unreasonable. Any strikes they landed would hurt them, not me. The only way any of them would be able to hurt me is if they got me locked in a hold and none of them were remotely strong or fast enough to do that.

No, what Castle and, by extension, the Raiders here were counting on was a bloodbath. It's what, given the circumstances, I'd have to do to keep my people alive.

That wasn't the plan.

I studied the 10 prisoners as they trudged out toward me. Each of them wore a different expression. A few were scared, eyes wide, chests heaving. Some were trying to hide it behind set jaws and tensed muscles. Buck, like he had before, was wearing a mask of grim determination. The last time we fought, he tried to fight me hand-to-hand. He knew this was a losing proposition, even 10 to 1.

If Buck had been the one to put the plan together for their side, he'd done a good job. All of the remaining prisoners were large and in relatively good shape. The idea Nate thought he could get through all of them…

He didn't.

Yeah, that's probably true.

Even with that preparation, my concern wasn't being beaten in a fight with them. My concern is finding some way to stop the fight without injuring them. Yes, part of that is I don't want to hurt them when there's no reason to. The other part is, if they're going to be of any help to escape, they can't have broken bones.

My eyes shot to the two Raiders, standing off to the side. They were close enough, if I said anything loud enough for Buck to hear, they would too.

The crowd was starting to reignite, shouts and jeers crashing into the ring through the fenced walls. Maybe they weren't about to watch Nate get killed, but they were going to watch prisoners whom they no doubt knew and hated get beaten to death.

Or that's what they thought.

If I wanted to stop this without seriously injuring or killing everyone, I'd need to convince them to give up. Doing that by force likely wasn't an option. Even through whatever combination of anger, fear, and resentment they were wearing, I could see the desperation. They thought they might die, but none of them wanted to.

It's that response that has kept them alive in here.

So that leaves talking…

Buck tensed as I fixed my gaze on him again. If he's the planner for all of this, and the leader of this group, he's the one I need to convince to stop.

Okay. Let's get this started, then.

My legs coiled and I lunged for him.

In the instant it took me to cross the dozen meters between us, Buck started sliding to his right. It was a remarkable reaction time, but he wasn't fast enough to move out of my path.

I collided with him and, as I knocked him to the ground, I followed.

There was a vague notion of the Raiders around us exploding into cheers.

Bracing myself to avoid coming down on top of him, I watched as the man threw his hands up to block an attack that wasn't coming.

"Call your people off", I hissed. "I'm not here to fight."

All of them had recovered from the initial shock of my opening attack and rushed to defend their leader.

One tried driving a shoulder into my right side. He bounced off the thick titanium plate over my shoulder with a pained yelp.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Before he could respond, I threw myself off of him and away from the other charging prisoners.

While I was telling the truth, my goal was to end this with everyone roughly in the same shape as when they started, I wasn't going to let myself get trapped for it.

Besides, Castle will already be suspicious; if I spend too long on top of Buck without killing him, the game would be over before I could convince them to stop.

Half of the prisoners were able to adjust their trajectories and race toward me. As usual, with regular opponents, they all looked like they were running in slow motion. My mind offered up a myriad of different potential methods for eliminating the threats. It would only take a few seconds and these four would be dead or incapacitated.

Instead, as they neared, I danced to the left, singling one prisoner, a younger, lanky man whose oddly unscarred and well-kept face was twisted into a hard grimace. No strike to a weak point or elbow to his skull though. What I did was drop into a low crouch, put my hand against the ground to maintain balance, and met his charge with my left shoulder. I was careful to avoid his sternum or rib cage. The force of the impact was absorbed by his core and, as his momentum came to a complete stop, I heard the air explode from his lungs in a pained, breathless groan.

He dropped to the dirt and I stepped over him, putting distance between myself and the other three in that wave.

Buck had found his feet again.

The others continued their pursuit as I faced the six in front of me. They were trying to box me in, to limit my range of movement. That wouldn't be a bad idea if they were facing a single dangerous, albeit still beatable, opponent.

The thought wasn't conceited, it was just the truth.

For his part, Buck was staring at me through narrowed eyes. He saw what I did to the other prisoners in the first fight and I'm sure he's heard about my fight with the Raiders. He has to be smart enough to know at least him and the young man just behind me would be dead in a real fight.

Right?

But he didn't call his people off.

Sliding to my right, I dodged one that was trying to grab my waist. Another went for my left leg. A quick jump and roll, following my momentum to the right, took me out of their reach.

There were only three more between me and Buck but the others were coming at me from behind. I felt one about to slam into me.

If I allow them to keep taking free runs at me and Buck doesn't call them off, one might get a clean shot. While that wouldn't be the end of the world, the more chances I take, the more likely something is to go wrong. Even in a fight like this.

Twisting, I brought my right leg up and around. It collided with the front leg of one of my pursuers, knocking it out from under them. With nothing to catch them for their next step, they tumbled to the ground as I stepped out of the way-

One slammed into my side. They were going full speed and led with their left shoulder. The impact almost knocked me off balance with one leg still in the air but, judging from how his subsequent hold attempt fell flat as he dropped to the dirt below, it probably hurt him a lot more.

With more closing in, I sprung to the right and broke into a run. It took me a half-dozen strides to circle far enough Buck was the only one in front of me.

He still hadn't moved. The large man just stood there, watching me. It was like he wasn't sure what to do. I could almost see the problem playing out across his face. On one hand, I'm sure Castle had made similar threats to him: fight me or lose something important to him. He was convinced he'd die doing this but, now, I'm not just offering a way out, I'm asking him to stop fighting.

I slid to a stop a few meters away from him. His people continued their pursuit minus the first man I'd hit and the one who tried to charge-tackle me. They were both still on the ground.

"Stop", I said, keeping my voice just above audible over the crowd.

If it were possible, Buck's eyes narrowed even more.

And then he took a deep breath before blowing it out of his nose. Hard.

"Wait!", the prisoner shouted. He said it like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

The other prisoners had almost reached me again when he'd said it. The command came too late for the leading two but I sidestepped their charge and they stumbled by, trying to bring themselves to a stop.

"If we don't fight, Castle will-"

"Kill your people", I finished for him. "I'm in the same situation."

Boos started raining from the crowd, crashing against my ears so hard it hurt.

That didn't matter though.

"So why would you not fight?" Buck called over the torrent of dissatisfaction.

"I'm done playing her game." I glanced at the Raider. Her face was an expressionless mask.

Maybe that meant she was angry. I hope it did, anyway.

"Then your friends are dead."

"No." I shook my head. "She isn't the only one with hostages."

The prisoner frowned. His companions were still around me, bristling, ready to attack. The crowd was near-riotous, screaming and booing with what sounded like everything they had. Castle would be coming out here at any second to deliver her ultimatum, threatening the lives of the support team, as everyone else had been calling them: my friends.

But I felt strangely relaxed. I knew what I was doing. The consequences… we'll see about those.

Sure enough, Castle and her retinue came marching out, one dragging Nate along with them.

"So this is the game you want to play again", she shouted once she was close enough to be heard over the mob of Raiders pressing against the fence around us. "You want me to go get that kid too?" It was hard to tell with her yelling, but it sounded like she was trying to be mocking.

"No", I called back. "I want this to be over."

"Too goddamn bad, Damon. Because it isn't over. Not until I get my way." She sneered. "I always win, remember?" The woman looked at Nate. "You ready to die for Damon's disobedience?"

My throat clenched so hard I had to force the next breath through it. I knew this was coming… but that didn't do anything to help. Nate's life was now dangling by a thread and Castle had the scissors.

The ex-soldier, though, didn't seem too concerned. He threw his head back and howled a laugh I could hear clearly over the crowd.

"Fuck you", he said once the fit had passed. His head dropped back down and he met her gaze, a massive smile on his face.

Then he held out his hand and flipped her off. "There's your fuckin' disobedience."

Castle's face remained impassive. She pulled her handgun from its holster, pressed its barrel to the second knuckle on Nate's middle finger, and pulled the trigger.

It was so quick and fluid, I almost didn't have time to react.

Almost.

They'd purposely been out of arm's reach so… I wasn't able to effect the shot, but I could make sure she didn't get off another.

Before the report faded, I had surged forward and grabbed her forearm. Bones snapped and she screamed in pain at the same time as Nate doubled over, grasping at his hand, howling.

In an instant, every guard had a rifle pointed at me.

But this wasn't where I wanted things to end. I just needed Castle to understand something: she wasn't the only one with hostages.

Her gun thudded to the dirt and I released her broken arm. Castle stumbled away from me, grabbing for it and hissing a string of… something I couldn't understand.

After a few seconds, she stopped and doubled over.

"You motherfucker!" she screamed. "That hurt!"

Her outburst wasn't my concern. My eyes were on Nate. He'd fallen to his knees, sitting on his heels, left hand wrapped around his right. Blood was seeping past his fingers and dripping into the dirt between his knees, turning the patch into a dark, muddy mess. His eyes were screwed shut in pain and, the way his chest was slowly rising and falling, he was working hard to control his breathing. To not scream in pain.

I allowed myself a shaky breath. I didn't think Castle was crazy enough to kill Nate standing right in front of me but… it was a gamble.

A pang of guilt shot through my gut. I'd been gambling with Nate's life and I hadn't given it a second thought.

That's something I have to worry about later. The ex-soldier had lost a finger but he'd live. Or maybe a better conclusion was that wouldn't kill him.

It was then I realized the crowd had, once again, fallen silent.

"Damon", Castle hissed.

When I looked at the Raider she was holding her arm, her eyes were fixed on me. They were narrowed and very angry.

"I'll give you one more chance." She nodded toward the gun at my feet. "You pick that up and you kill Buck and his loser friends and I'll forget what just happened."

"You won't kill anyone", I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt about that. She wasn't completely sane. I had no clue what she'd do.

"Oh, you want to play that game?" She looked at one of the guards. "Z. Give him ten seconds."

The guard in question stole a glance at me before lowering his rifle from me to Nate's head. It was slow, almost like he wasn't sure he wanted to. I don't know if that's because he didn't want to aim at Nate, or he didn't want to not be aiming at me.

"Ten", Castle spat.

It was this again. Just like Wendy.

The handgun's recoil, the sound of the report, the life fading from her eyes. All of it was just as vibrant and real as it had been the moment I pulled the trigger.

My gaze dropped to the pistol, then over my shoulder at Buck. He was staring at me with… I don't know what in the frown on his face.

But I wasn't going to execute them. Not for Castle. I've already made this decision. So… what do I do?

"Nine."

"Damon", Nate said, his voice pained and tired.

"Eight."

I looked back at the ex-soldier. At my friend. The man who was ready to die to keep me out of this ring.

"Seven."

He smiled. And it made it all the way to his eyes. "It's okay."

"Six."

"You've done enough", he echoed what I'd said earlier.

"Five."

"You don't have to do this anymore. It's okay."

… Oh. I- I don't know why but, as the words washed over me, they pulled every ounce of strength with them. It was my turn to double over and grab my knees.

"Four."

"You don't have to do this anymore."

They were… permission.

It was exhilarating. Every nerve was tingling with new energy, like someone had hooked a small battery into my body.

A weight the size of the world lifted itself from around my neck.

"Three."

There's no way I'd let Castle kill my friends. But that wasn't because it was the right thing to do.

It's because I didn't want to let her.

"Enough", I said before she could count off "Two".

Reaching down, I picked the handgun up from the dirt between my armored boots.

As odd as it might sound, I was still relaxed. I don't know how long it's been since I was so sure about something. How long it's been since something felt this right.

Checking the magazine as I stood, I looked into Castle's eyes. They were light blue, but that was the only thing of note. They were so… empty. I don't know how, but there didn't seem like anything was in them.

"Enough", I repeated. "If Nate dies here, it's over, Castle. You die." I turned to the guards, "Same with you", my eyes turned back to the injured woman, "and I fight until every Raider on this base is dead, or I am."

Something sparked in those dead eyes.

"You're willing to kill thousands to save one person?" she asked.

I almost laughed. I might be confident in my abilities and more than a little crazy, but I'm not stupid. I said I'd fight until they were dead or I was; I wouldn't be leaving this base if that happened. Hell, I doubt I'd be leaving this ring. Does that mean I wouldn't trade the life of every single Raider on this base for the lives of my people?

Hell no.

She didn't need to know that.

"Yeah", I said, nodding.

She frowned. "And you're willing to put yourself in this position because you refuse to kill some nobodies you don't know?"

Again. "Yeah."

"... That doesn't seem a little lopsided to you?" There was something new in her voice, a hesitance I hadn't heard before.

"You're Raiders." I shrugged. "There isn't a number of you that's worth Nate, or Brenda, or Julian, Alex, Able, Blake, Miranda, Trent, Kim, Laura. Or Vince. No one in the Minutemen." I jerked my head toward Buck. "That goes for him and his people too. So, if you want to test whether I mean it or not, give the order."

If she did, I'd only have as much time as it takes for the guard to pull the trigger to aim and fire. It had to be a perfect shot, through the bridge of the guard's nose and into the base of his brain. I had to stop his brain from being able to tell his finger to tighten.

Castle didn't say anything. She just… stared. I had no idea what she was thinking; her face had gone completely blank. I couldn't even find anger in there anymore.

But, even though I knew my life, Nate's life, and everyone else's on the support team was probably over-

For the first time in a decade and a half, I felt free.

"Well then", Castle said, her voice returning to its standard, neutral tone, "I guess we'll have to call this one a draw. Get them back to the cell."

A collective breath from, what seemed like, everywhere around me let itself out. The other prisoners, the guards, they were all relieved.

Castle called it a draw but it felt like I'd just won, even more than the fight against them the other day.

A/N: well then, that was exciting. Maybe that excitement was very different from expectations but it was a lot of fun to write. Nate and Damon have been through a lot, both in their own lives and together. Sometimes, you need someone who understands you to help you realize something, no matter how strong you are. That was the case for both of them in this chapter. Things are moving quickly and getting crazy. Just one more shout-out, if you're interested, go take a look at A Better Tomorrow and I'll see everyone next time!

Next chapter: 5/10, An Old Friend