Blackout, Beryllium

(ty for reading, you're very appreciated and i am happy to see u, as is the little star above :)

(EDITED)(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be in line with the new edits.)

[WARNING: READER DISCRETION ADVISED:

This chapter contains sexual content that some readers may find uncomfortable. If so, please refrain from reading further. Thank you.]

The Bloodhounds had won their Grand Prix by the time the second Green Diamond match came around for America's college sports system. It meant Elias was face-front on the news for all square racing fans to see. It meant it was the thick of July, the air saturated in sun, the ground soaked with pungent heat, the wind scented with sweat and green leaves, of overgrown grass and sunscreen. Everything was burnt golden, the edges overcooked and brown, the concrete smoking puffs of sparkling heat up into the blue, blue sky. Not a cloud dared to block the sun's limelight moment, letting it fill the day with junoesque hips and a voluptuous silhouette, not an inch of earth untouched by its hefty figure. Even the night sweated from its shadow, the blaze still burning beneath asphalt and weeds.

The gap between Green and Red Diamond, known as the vacation period, was the length of August in which all matches of Championships halted in order to allow racers time to get away and see their families or friends or live a life that didn't depend on the blood of motorbikes and money. It gave racers something to look forward to as well. They needed it, as you can imagine.

We were halfway through Green Diamond by now, and headed right for Red. It meant there was little to no time for me to worry about my brother's shenanigans, or God forbid, his wins. The last thing I needed was a reminder of what was to come at the end of the year. I had enough of that from just looking at Kane. The summer came with blood to spill, but if I could choose ignorance, I could at least save myself some carnage.

"Avoidance is cheap," Mercy had once told me after depositing a bagged heart into the freezer box. "You should learn to be more upfront about your bullshit, Ghost."

There was not enough time in the world to be upfront about my brother. For now, summer was the only problem on my shrinking plate. My brother was through to hold his place in facing me after Red Diamond. So, I had to worry about holding my own.

Lycans had a bone to pick with summer. The creatures just don't care for the heat. How could they? A few degrees, and the world would burn up right from its core outward, until we were all char and ash. Just compound that into a whining, fur-freak of a young adult athlete, and you can imagine the discord. Put nine of them together. Click. Bang! What even was there to do in a heat wave?

"Don't hold your breath," Kane muttered, pulling my hair to yank my head back. "You're asking for issues."

"You're an issue," I murmured, wiping my mouth. "And please let me do this in silence, your nagging is a serious turn-off."

Kane scoffed. "Then don't get mad when you choke," he said, and pushed into my mouth.

I choked. But lightly, thank you.

Kane said, "I told you."

I coughed, "Is there usually this much talking, because I gotta say, this might not be my thing."

Kane rolled his eyes. "Do it or don't, it's fucking hot in here anyway." He glanced around at his room, which could only manage so much under such little AC.

"If I do it, make us breakfast."

"I can make breakfast without a mouth on me."

"Yeah," I said, sitting back up. "But you'd probably be happier doing it."

I swallowed him back down, and at least remembered to breathe.

Kane had either been relegated to using an umbrella outside or simply not going outside at all, per Ramos's orders. The Corvidae, as many racing stadiums, was covered and indoors, so practice didn't elicit any extra precaution, but as for hangouts, Corvus had been left with more limited options.

"With the poisoning worsening, heat in general will make you more tired more often," Ramos said. "I can give you more medicine for it, but the side effects might not be worth it. But you let me know. My best advice: stay inside when you can, leave the going out for AC and nighttime. Got it?"

"You hate me," Kane had replied, and flopped back on the bed.

Rosalie said, "We got it."

"And I take you're keeping up diet and exercise? You're eating well?" Ramos asked.

Kane said, "Don't worry about me, Ramos."

Corvus had subsequently frequented many indoor restaurants, cafes, and malls as their weekly excursions. Kane looked quite contemptuous at having to carry an umbrella, but he did so nonetheless. Still, with Green Diamond preoccupying most of our minds, and Luan's and my fight putting quite the knife in the atmosphere, Corvus wasn't really keen on going out too much anyway.

"Nothing wrong with takeout and a movie, right?" Meredith said with a smile. "Getting sick of Cafe food."

Kane just hummed and nodded. "Whatever you want."

I'd practically abandoned my room by then, spending nearly every night in Kane's, by circumstance, I'll have you know. I typically fell asleep talking or listening to him talk, and didn't have the energy to move once I'd gotten comfortable. His bed was bigger anyway. This, you have to know.

It made the mornings interesting in their own respects.

"Kiss me good morning and I'll kill you," I told him when I felt the bed shift and the scent of soap hovered over me.

Kane kissed me. He murmured against my mouth, "Wake the fuck up, we got practice."

"That's basically a good morning," I snapped, opening an eye.

"You never specified the phrasing," he replied, and kissed me harder.

Corvus didn't help.

"That's not your shirt," Diego said obviously.

I looked down at the cotton shirt that, yes, was definitely not mine, courtesy of the lack of HELLO KITTY and it being two sizes too big. I straightened. I said, "What is a shirt?

"Wow," Kenzo said flatly.

Diego narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, okay."

Meredith was the root of all evil, really.

"Sorry," I gasped, buckling over as I held up an apologetic hand to Coach. "Sorry...we're...late."

"We?" she asked.

Kane burst through the door behind me. He held up the same hand. "Sorry...we're...late."

Coach said, "And why's that?"

Kane hurried out a, "Big crowds," as I blurted, "A murder."

Corvus gaped at me. Kane gaped at me. Coach gaped at me. I cleared my throat.

"Er, allegedly," I tried.

Rosalie shook her head. "I'm moving to fucking Switzerland."

Meredith stared at us, then hummed with a smile. "Interesting," she said, walking away.

And Ramos was, decidedly, not helpful.

"You and Kane hang out often," she said.

"Tracker," I supplied.

"I see."

"You do?"

"Of course."

"You sound like you're mocking me."

"Never, Echo."

"See, that."

"Whatever you want, Echo."

"Ask what you wanna ask."

"I'll ask nothing," she said, then gave a knowing grin. "After all, it's 'not like that'."

"Wicked," I gasped.

Kane was least helpful of all, really. You're seeing the example in real time.

"I told you," I murmured against his open mouth, "that I'm perfectly fine with just getting breakfast."

"You're saying it like I agreed." He kissed my neck, tongue flicking out over the tendons, the sheets burning right through my shirt and shorts. "And if you really thought that, you wouldn't be clinging on like a goddamn octopus."

Kane's smile was a soft, oceanic thing. He kissed me with parted lips, pushing my own apart. He didn't lift my shirt, but rather drew circles overtop around my ribs, my chest, the vertebrae of my spine. I fidgeted under the touch and jerked away right into his calescent body. It took much honor of mine to ignore the fact he was still only in boxers and keep my eyes just about anywhere else. My hips pulled themselves against his own, just to feel him right through the damn fabric.

Dwindling honor. Weak honor, that's what.

"I got weak honor," I muttered as fire rushed down my veins.

Kane rolled his hips into me and I jolted. He sat upright. "Yeah," he murmured, "I could've told you that much."

He pushed his thigh between my legs and pulled my hips towards him. I pushed my nails so hard into his shoulders I thought I'd peel the skin right off. He winced, glaring at me. "I told you to stop trying to carve me."

I pushed my hips into the pressure and shuddered. "Maybe," I muttered. "When you give me a goddamn break."

July had traveled into my bones, a fever injected into the tissue. I felt it eat away at me like maggots with every chase and inevitable collision of my hips and his leg, with the pressure of a mouth on mine, the tightness of his hands holding my arms.

He said, "Still want breakfast?"

I broke a hand free from his hold to pull him towards me by his hair. He came down easily, pliant in the ungodly heat and hard. My stomach twisted, knotted up. I kissed him like he was made of oxygen. Like I could take a match and watch the flames cook.

"What's on the menu?" I asked.

His smile flicked on a lighter and turned the hemisphere to ash.

But, nonetheless.

That's just the preliminary shit.

____________________________

"All right, listen up, and keep your goddamn cool," Coach yelled, then said, "It's the Rebels."

Rosalie stared up at the sky. "Am I joke to you?"

"Just this season, huh?" Diego said. "Some might argue that this is the work of newly arrived bad luck charms. I won't name names. Cobayo."

"I like how everyone forgets I'm one of three rookies here," I snapped from my place on the front Talon steps, and sent a significant look to Wynter and Zoe.

Wynter scoffed, affronted. "I like how one of the three rookies acts like all the discord of this season is equal blame. I won't name names. Echo."

"Well, fuck me, that's fair," I muttered.

"You're kidding though," Zahir said, frowning at Coach. "Say you're kidding."

"Not kidding, it seems like a lot of top schools these days are just having bad storms to our bad luck," she sighed. "Their usual rivals forfeited after a racing accident took out three of their top players for the rest of the season. They're our competitors by default."

"Default? Our Green Diamond victory and winning streak depends on these bastards' default?" Rosalie said.

Meredith glanced to Kane. "King?"

Kane was leaned against the stone steps, his eyes focused on something behind Coach and none of us. His jaw was tight, expression like granite. When the silence became excessive, he slid his eyes around to Edwards.

"I'm not the coach," he said coolly.

"You are the captain," she reminded.

Kane had a look on his face that said that argument was unhelpful. He said, "It's another match. We can't opt out of a Green Diamond round."

"We could afford it if we swing our numbers."

"Corvus doesn't 'swing' anything," he said disdainfully. "It's just a race."

Zahir's eyes swooped to his throat, and Kane grimaced. Diego sighed, rubbing fingers through his black curls. He said, "This is going to be a shit show."

"If he's outnumbered, the majority should win," Rosalie argued. "Baluyot nearly killed him last time."

"This is a race," Kenzo pointed out.

"This is his life," she said.

"Give me and this team some credit. Stop fighting shadows and start killing the beast," Kane said, cocking a brow. He got to his feet and headed back towards the Talon. "We're going. Pack your stuff."

"Unbelievable," Rosalie scoffed, throwing her hands up. "You're setting yourself up."

"Then that's my problem," Kane called back. "Worry about the race."

I sighed, tipping my head back. "Oy vey."

An hour later, when Corvus became angry enough to finally walk back and lament their frustrations in the most civil way they could, I found Kane on the balcony, making friends out of the stars.

I handed him a brand new cigarette and said, "She's right, you know. About setting yourself up."

Kane took the cigarette and left my comment in place of it. He leaned over the railing, glaring at the city. "Corvus doesn't forfeit," he said. "Not if we don't have to. And we don't have to."

"Your pride's gonna kill you," I muttered. "Mar you where you stand."

Kane took my cigarette and used the end to light his own. He said, "Takes one to know one."

"You think you're doing us a favor," I deduced.

"I think I'm doing my job."

"You'll do your job in keeping yourself upright."

"My job isn't to make us all feel like some rays of fucking sunshine," he said. "My job is to make sure we do everything we can to win."

I stared. Kane blew out a gust of storm clouds. His frame had thinned, his skin tighter over his bones, his arms etched with more blue veins, his eyes collecting shards of shadows little by little. I pursed my lips tight, until my teeth broke through the skin.

"What are you proving here?" I said.

Kane gave a gray huff. "What are you?"

A cruel fairness. I tipped my head back, leaning on the black rails, my throat cooled by the wind. I closed my eyes. I thought of the teeth of keys in my palms.

A hand snaked around my waist, pulled me into a body. A mouth still twinged with embers grazed my neck and left a gaping burn on my larynx. The scent of tobacco and burnt paper wafted into my nose from where both our hands cradled the cigarettes against the rails.

Kane said, "Trust me with this."

I could have cried at that. I stuck my cigarette between my lips. His fingers were in a pas de deux on my hips. Hydrofluoric acid spilled over skin, his hands leaving irreparable scars on me.

I blew the smoke into his face. "Don't make me laugh," I said.

I kissed him like I could swim in him and never find the bottom.

__________________________

The University of Nevada Las Vegas Rebels were grade A fuckers, that's what. Why, I should know. For obvious reasons.

"Fuckers," I said. "All of them. Look at their faces. Are you looking? That face."

"Echo," Meredith said. "We're all wearing helmets. There are no faces."

"It's a metaphor."

"That's not a metaphor," Kane said.

"Why don't you focus on captaining and I'll focus on metaphor-ing?" I snapped.

"I thought we discussed mic privileges with Yun," Rosalie said. "As in, he shouldn't have them."

"I thought we discussed Rosalie's convenient hatred for me," I retorted. "As in, she's got no justification for it."

"Doesn't she?" Kenzo said.

"Who kept his mic on?"

"Echo, shut the fuck up and stop hogging the line," Kane snapped. "Focus on the damn match, why don't you? You're on in ten minutes."

"There's a halftime, smartass," I muttered.

"How about you come on now and I'll step out and we'll see who's so smart then?"

"Sabotaging your sub, I see."

"Get off the fucking line," Kane ordered.

"Now is not the goddamn time," Diego yelled. "Christ alive, you two bicker like a geriatric couple counting the days 'til one of you dies from a preventable flu."

"Smaller people live statistically longer than taller people," I replied. "So, see you in Hell, King."

"For fuck's sake," he sighed.

"Literally in the middle of a match," Zahir said. "But, can we pay attention to the fact we've got a forty point gap going here?"

Ah, the match. Let's talk about it.

Corvus stood at a 125 to 185 against the Rebels, and Nathan had returned to torment us because I just didn't have that kind of luck. Corvus hadn't dared to even bother interacting with the team, not even looking at them as they filed onto their bikes. Baluyot and Kane had only exchanged a glance between each other. Baluyot had rather let his gaze linger on me.

"They're gonna pull something," Wynter had said.

"Well," I'd muttered, leaning over the rails. "We're gonna find out."

So far, the entire first half had gone without an incident, or at least not an unexpected one. Rosalie's words must have been fresh dry wood to a fire, because if anything, Corvus was racing better than usual, which was saying something for the number one team in the NCAA. Zoe was in to fill the spaces left by Kenzo's lingering injury, leaving Wynter and I on the top to deal with the view. Baluyot was leaving most of the defense up to Lee and Singh, who hounded Kane and Zahir turn for turn at every section to no avail, as they racked up points like kids in a candy shop. Our odds were soft as cotton.

Save for one issue.

Singh rammed her fist into Kane's side. He sank right, smashed his cleats to the ground and careened into her bike. The two went crashing into the concrete, sparks and metal flying. Kane swerved his bike in a clean 180 forward. His bike left smoke and Singh in his wake as he sailed ahead to sidle up at the front.

"Watch your shoulder," Coach reminded.

"I'm watching," he gritted.

"Then stop leaning right."

Kane didn't answer.

Corvus zig-zagged through the group with ease. The booed profusely and shamelessly as their team's numbers barely budged and Corvus's skyrocketed by the minute. I turned on Coach.

"You think they're plotting something?" I asked her.

Coach hummed. "For sure," she said. "They're racing like they want to lose."

I chewed my lip. I said, "Shoulder?"

Kane said, "Really?"

"That's not an answer."

"Oh, God," Diego groaned. "You two have hung out so much, you've turned him into you."

"Two Kings?" Rosalie scoffed. "What ring of Hell is that?"

"Would you idiots focus on the match happening in front of you and not your goddamn bickering?" Coach snapped.

"Not our fault this match is a breeze," Diego said. "They're practically handing Green Diamond to us."

"Talk about a jinx," I said. "It's the Rebels, they played games last time, they'll play games this time."

"You're too negative, cobayo. Oh, God, you really are turning into King."

"In his dreams," Kane scoffed.

"Say that to my face," I said.

"Match is still happening, you two!" Rosalie snapped. "King, on your left."

Whatever Coach had seen in Kane's shoulder had initially missed my eyes. But as the final minutes ticked away, I could see it come to light like the spoiled underside of a sweet dessert.

Singh rammed her front wheel into Kane's, sending the both reeling to the left wall. On instinct, Kane slammed his metal knuckles against the concrete to brace himself against being crushed completely. He swung his leg up and back into Singh's gut, cleats to leather, and she reeled right off her bike and into the nearest pole. Her bike flew harmlessly into the track.

The buzzer screeched the end of the first half.

"An interesting first half of this particular match, I have to say," Nathan said. "Corvus leads with a whopping fifty four points ahead of the Rebels, and in their home stadium! Corvus seems to be fired up and racing with the kind of skill I see in pro teams, giving them a strong head-start.This is not looking good for the Rebels, but there is still one more half to go. We'll be back in fifteen minutes!"

Kane showed no apparent issues with his shoulder as he returned to the canopy, and all of Corvus had apparently sustained nothing more than a few harsh gashes or sore muscles. Ramos looked relatively pleased, but frowned at Kane as he sat down on a bench.

He tugged off his helmet to place beside him, wiping the sweat from his skin and pushing his hair back. The black veins that once stopped at the base of his neck had now made their way up his throat, an overgrowth of inky vines. Ramos bent down beside him. "How's your shoulder?" she asked.

"Fine," he said.

Kenzo, perched at the railings behind him, promptly pushed his shoulder. Kane cursed, yanking his body out of range and holding his arm. Kenzo took a swig of water. "Or not."

"Fuck you," Kane snapped.

"Let me see," Ramos said.

Kane looked hesitant at first, but the look Ramos and Coach gave him had him taking off his jacket and guards until he was in nothing but a sleeveless compression undershirt. We all looked at his shoulder, and Corvus hissed in unison.

"What is that—ow." Diego frowned at Rosalie, who sent him a razor-edged look.

The black scars on Kane's shoulder seemed to have worsened overnight. It bled out brand new branches, and its culprit wound had reappeared in a sickly, gray outline on his shoulder blade, the distinct shape of a blade's shadow. Spilled oil flooded his veins, out and over his skin, the veins choking on it as it ran down his forearm.

Ramos gave Kane a look. Kane looked remorseless. He said so, too.

"What?" he deadpanned.

"You're an utter idiot," Coach snapped. "How'd you get into college?"

Kane shrugged his right shoulder. "It barely hurts."

Ramos sat beside him, examining the sight. "Lift your arm." When his muscles trembled just doing so, she sighed. "You can't keep racing with this. This shoulder can't heal as well as even a human's can because of the poisoning. You need to rest it more."

Kane sighed like the verdict was his biggest inconvenience. "Can't you just give me a brace?"

"I can give you a break." She glanced to Coach. Coach hummed.

"Yun, you're in for second half alone." She pointed at King. "You're out. Rest the shoulder, Ramos will give you some meds."

Kane gaped. He got to his feet. "You can't do that. I'm not even injured. It's a sore muscle."

"Are you really trying to argue that with me?" Edwards pointed at his shoulder. "Sit your ass down, one half won't kill you."

"You can't put him out there alone."

"He survived a full match and a death round without you. He'll be fine. You're his tracker, not his guardian."

"This isn't—"

Kenzo pushed him down by his other shoulder. Coach turned her eyes on me. I held up my hands.

"I just go where I'm ordered," I said.

"Good," she said. "Because you're on next."

I shrugged at Kane, whose head was tilted back to stare angrily at the ceiling. "My hands are tied."

"I hate you," he said to no one in particular.

"Throw your tantrum over there then," Coach said, turning back to face the rest of us. "All right, we're doing great on points, thank you to our fronts."

"Happy to help," Zahir said with a grin.

"Ugh," Kane muttered.

"That means 'me too'," I promised.

"But," Coach continued, sending a significant look at Kane, "Yun's got a point, these are the Rebels, they're planning to pull something. What that is, I don't know, but it's not worth any more major injuries. So keep your eyes and ears open for anything. The moment something seems off, rearrange, re-strategize. Truong, you're on standby for now, I won't put in any more bodies than are necessary in case something goes wrong and we need someone to step in. Yun, you and Gupta need to figure out what your focus is for the next half and stick to it. All right?" We nodded. She nodded back. "Let's win this and get the hell out of this place."

I sat beside Kane, slipping into quiet Korean. "You should've said something."

He scoffed, unimpressed. "Really?"

"Not to me. To Ramos. I thought the medicine was working."

"The meds are for the side effects, not the poison," he sighed. "Let's not talk about this."

"You're hurt."

Kane said in English, "Let's not talk about this."

Corvus gave us curious looks. I scowled at that foul play on his part, but didn't push him any more. Coach raised a brow, then said, "Can you race?" She gave me a cursory once-over.

I grabbed my helmet, brushing past Kane with a pathetic point to prove. He said behind me in fast Korean, "Remember to look twice."

I didn't ask what he meant. I faced Coach and nodded.

"Put me in," I told her.

It's always the second half that gets you, and really, for as far as we've all gotten in this sport, we should really stop walking into the same trope.

"Where the fuck are the refs?" Rosalie snapped just as Jameson smashed his knuckles into the exposed innards of Zoe's bike. "They're getting away with shit that's straight out illegal!"

"Keep your cool," Zahir said. "Stick to the plan, we act out and we'll get blindsided again."

"Stop sticking," Kenzo argued. "Improvise."

"Watanabe's right," Coach said in my ear. "You all aren't amateurs, you know people play dirty. Think on your feet here!"

I swerved around Singh just as she swung for me. I took a ramp and landed on the pillar series. "Are we axing or are we beating?"

"Ax the wings," Zahir said. "We'll never get beyond these guys if they're getting away with these damn dirty blows."

It felt like a stalemate of what the Rebels really wanted; if we focused on getting rid of them, if we focused on outracing them, either way, our attention could either be to their advantage or their detriment. It was a dice roll on which one they wanted.

Zahir took it upon himself to choose the axing idea. He slammed on the brakes, swerving into a narrow gap between poles, before forging behind Jameson to crack their bikes side by side into each other. They went reeling into a tunnel's side, Jameson's bike screaming sparks. Rosalie came up from behind and smashed her wheel right into the back of his bike, flipping the vehicle up and over. Jameson and his bike crashed into the concrete in a sickening thud. We left him in the dust.

"A brutal retort from Corvus," Nathan announced. "Looks like they're not too happy about the sneaky plays from the Rebels."

"Eat a cactus, man," I muttered, swerving through tire stacks.

"Singh," Coach said.

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," I said and switched gears.

I swerved around to surge forward, locating the lycan. She whirled her head around, spotting me. She ran up along the high walls before yanking her bike south and heading perpendicular.

I yanked my bike ninety degrees and zipped towards her.

She seemed to hesitate, even if just for a second, but it was all I needed. I reached out so far I nearly fell off the bike altogether and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, yanking her with as much force as I could muster. Her helmet slammed against my handlebars, and she flailed right, sending her and her bike flying downwards. I watched her plummet to the concrete in a dizzying crash just as I swerved my bike around at the top of the walls, my back wheel skimming the white railing. I sailed back down in an easy slide, with Singh useless at my back.

"Corvus is getting creative these days, I have to say!" Nathan said. "This match is certainly getting interesting now."

"Right on, cobayo!" Diego cackled. "Hey, Rosie, Z, you two riding the high?"

"If they're out, hell yeah," Zahir said.

"Don't let us celebrate yet," Rosalie said. "We've got thirty minutes left."

It'd be a long thirty minutes.

But with 144 to 109, we'd manage.

I gained company fifteen minutes before the match ended. I never did see the end of it.

The Rebels had closed the gap to twenty four points between them and us. Singh and Jameson had never returned, and strangely, had no one come in to replace them despite their ample amount of subs available on the bench. It left us suspicious of their plans, but that emotion had little time to be dwelled on considering the sheer amount of action we were facing with no breaks.

"Fifteen minutes," Kane said to us. "Just endure."

"Tell that to Lee," Zoe grunted just as the culprit nearly took off her head with a deadly, metal-knuckled swing. "Fifteen minutes is more than enough for them to pull another trick."

"There's always tricks," he said. "You're on a speed game now. So speed up."

We sped up.

We rounded a corner just as we finished yet another lap around the stadium. The crowd was wild against our backs, a pressure on our bones and ears. The points had climbed to Everest heights, numbers upon numbers in my eyes. The engine under me roared something fierce.

Coach said, "Eyes up, Yun. You've got company."

I turned around.

Baluyot had finally bothered to break out of his shell of tails to hound one of us. But considering the shit we'd undergone in and outside of the track with him, I suppose I couldn't expect much more than a downright filthy trick.

I surged ahead, fast faster faster. The numbers rose until they threatened to break through the speedometer altogether. I felt Baluyot on me in the way you felt a ghost breathing down your neck in the dark. I thought of his sick smile at Fang Flower, the blood on that grin as he taunted Kane.

I slammed on the accelerator like my life depended on it.

In a way, it did.

"Yun and Baluyot forge ahead of the pack," Nathan recounted. "Seems the two are going one-on-one out here."

I glanced behind me. Sure enough, we'd left nearly a third of a mile between us and the two teams. It was me and him and the silver track.

"Yun, get back here!" Rosalie snapped.

"I can't turn around, he'll crush me," I argued.

"You sped up, you can't slow down," Zahir said. "We'll catch up. Stay out of arm's reach."

He didn't have to tell me twice.

Baluyot and I raced ahead like purple and red bullets. I swerved around the corners in such sharp turns I was nearly horizontal. I spotted the chicanes up ahead like spotting thorns in the brush. I could feel the screech of my tires on the ground. Baluyot copied my every move. When we both escaped the chicanes by the skin of our teeth, he sidled up beside me, his eyes angling towards me with a narrowed black shield reflecting my own back.

He clutched his handlebars tight, and swerved into the ramps. His arms pulled up. Beneath his glove, right where the skin of his armor met his leather jacket, the glint of metal sparkled like a star back at me.

I faltered. My tire narrowly missed the ramp's scaffolding, and I swerved around to head through the logs instead.

"Yun!" Zoe yelled. "Yun, wait, the tunnel—go for the tunnel!"

"Yun, get out of there now!" Coach demanded.

I said, "Out of—"

The world fragmented like a mirror bested by a fist, every inch of it shattering into a dozen shards going every which way. The immediate weight of a body and bike fell into mine like a battering ram. White hot fire took to the gasoline of my blood, and shot through every molecule of my being with every millisecond. Everything went tumbling down, down, down.

I heard a crack, a snap, the distinct sound of metal clanging and polystyrene fracturing and fabric tearing. My skull smashed into my spine, my spine sinking into my femurs. I saw the structures of polar compounds and ionic crystals, the world reduced from its shape to its chemicals in a moment.

Then the pain came.

"Yun—you—the—Bal—get—"

Static and stutter filled my ears. The taste of metal filled my mouth. It took me an agonizing moment to realize I wasn't upright, and neither was my bike, and someone was against me, on me, bike-less and speaking something into my now-useless helmet. My now-useless helmet missing a third of its face shield and segments of the right side and stained dark with crimson. Red filled my eyes.

I blinked blearily, felt the sting of salt and iron in my eye. I coughed wetly. I looked up in some hopes I'd find something tangible in the darkness.

Baluyot stood above me, his face shield pushed up and his bruised face staring me down. He was difficult to see beneath the ramp's dark shadow and my hazy vision, only recognizable by my best guesses. His hand was against my stomach, his other at my shoulder. He said something. Something or other. Everything hurt. Everything burned. Burned, burned, burned.

I looked down.

"You get what you fucking ask for, mutt," he snarled, the sound murky and damp in my eardrums. "Bringing a Stirling, a goddamn Omega onto my track, humiliating me. You think this is a fucking game? Play checkers, kid. Play cards." Something sang with fire at my lower right stomach, began to buzz with a terrifically terrible sting. Baluyot scoffed, and slid the thin knife back into his sleeve. He turned to flee. "Don't you know there's no dogs allowed at the top?"

"King—don't—can't—come here!"

I stared at the wound in my gut, the leather, the armor, the undershirt and padding, all sliced through to let fresh scarlet blood bloom. But the sting was an acidic thing, an alcohol burn, a full-body bite of venom that only seemed to worsen. I gasped, spoke, coughed out something bloody and breathless. My body twitched and shook. I lifted my hand, saw the gashes made by concrete burn, saw the way my nerves rattled and screamed. The darkness around me found nothing to hold onto, murky with blood and agony.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

"Echo!"

Someone's hands came around my face, then my arms, my chest, the wound in my gut. Someone screamed. Someone yelled. Someone whispered. The scent of blood made me gag, made me sob, made me silent.

Kane said, "Breathe."

I closed my eyes.

The world went up in amber flames.

"Get him on the table!"

The chill of a polyester table met my back, the crinkle of pointless parchment overtop it. The sting had turned to a constant venom pumping through me that coagulated my blood and liquified my bones. Staying still was more than a Herculean effort; it was irrefutably impossible.

"Get me the scissors. They won't give me more time than now, give me the scissors. I have to get to the wound."

Panic struck me through all the agony. "No," I mustered out. "No. No. Don't."

"Echo." Ramos, I believed, tried to hold my shoulders, but the touch alone singed me like a match that came too close. She hesitated. "Echo. Echo, there was something in that blade, I need to help you. I need to see—"

"You can't," I groaned. "No. No."

"Echo," a new voice begged. "Please, you're hurt."

"Ramos," I pleaded.

"I can't waste more time." The sound of metal against metal. The sound of rustling clothes. The feeling of something against my skin, rubbing me like porcupine needles. I groaned, shuddered, cried out at the cold broil against my stomach. "Hold him down, don't let him move."

Hands were on me in a second. I screamed a guttural scream, one I couldn't have produced in any other level of pain. I'd been shot. I'd been stabbed. I'd been cut. I'd been burned. I looked Hell in the face, and it was the equivalent of every bullet, knife, and lighter taken to me combined.

"Hold him tighter."

"I'm trying!"

"Hold him—"

The tear of fabric. The cool air on my bare skin like magma on open wounds. I screamed until the ache of fangs broke my gums and the stretch of claws scorched my fingers. Blood and blood and blood.

Someone held me by my jaw, pushing my head back against the table. My eyes were blanched to whiteness. The pain was so fierce it was diamond blue. I screeched, sunk my fangs into the first thing that they could find, and tasted soft flesh and blood on my tongue.

"Beryllium," Ramos said, and I grunted. "There was beryllium on that blade—get me that bag, the one on the other side. Give me those tweezers, the scissors. I have to get the shrapnel out now. We'll be too late."

Beryllium.

There was nothing but silver in the pupils of my eyes.

Metal tore open my gut, and sunk in.

Don't you know there's no dogs allowed at the top?

(ty for reading :))) my computer has been rendered useless due to network issues, so i've been relegated to using my iPad for all things, so if the formatting of these chapters seem off, it's because my luck has disgraced me in my time of need. nonetheless, the star is forever grateful for your presence and your support, as am i :D )