NOVEL NEXT Book 2. Chapter 61. Elvis, God of Carnage.
I looked down into the arena as the lights went dark once again. The Announcer began speaking in an overdramatic tone as he told the crowd what to expect from the first bout.
"We have been waiting, have we not! The Council, in its unending wisdom, has seen fit to bless us with this spectacle, this trial of blood, this judgement of violence against the treasonous Captain Andrew Dawes! Are you ready for Judgement!!!!" The announcer threw his hands up in the air as the crowd went absolutely ballistic.
"But wait! Before we get to the main event, we have prepared a spectacle that will be just as satisfying. For what is a fine meal without a succulent appetizer? You have all heard of him; you scare your children with tales of this beast stealing them from their beds. You have heard of his feats in the lower fighting pits. An animal that fights without regard for the civility of combat. Nay! A beast that can't control his more basic instincts. The Fire Demon of the Bloodhound, the Berserking Beast of rumor, the right hand to the most vile person in the Galaxy! I give you…EEEELLLLVVVVIIIISS THE BERSERKER ABOMINATION!!!!!"
A spotlight centered on a small platform that was rising on the perimeter of the arena, just outside the maze of dilapidated structures. My heart sank immediately when I saw my friend. Elvis was chained to the platform on his knees, the chains glowing with some sort of energy and crisscrossing over his shoulders. His hands were held in front of his stomach in some sort of container that fully obstructed his ability to use them. There was a black composite muzzle over his mouth, his beard poking out wildly from the bottom. He had been tortured severely. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, and the white fluid that served as his blood was caked around the numerous cuts.
I felt the anger and resentment for Karis, Jax, and the Council grow at the sight of my most loyal friend bound and beaten. I looked closer, using my interface to magnify the image of my friend. I identified him
Elvis
Bio-Droid Berserker
Level : 53
"What the hell? Elvis…you've been busy." I smiled a bit at the realization that Elvis was not as much of a victim as I had first assumed. He was in pretty rough shape, but from the number of levels he had gained, it looked like he had been very busy in the fighting pits, and knowing Elvis like I did, there is no other place that he would rather have been. I took a chance to see if Elvis's internal comms were active now that he was out in the open. I hadn't been able to reach the rest of the crew, but I thought it was worth another shot.
"Elvis, can you hear me, buddy?"
Elvis jerked his head in my direction, "Captain, forgive my muffled words. These dogs put a muzzle on me. I knew you would come for Elvis."
His words were muffled and hard to understand, but I was able to get enough of an idea of what he was saying. "Elvis, listen. C.J. is working to save the crew. I need you to take this fight to the limit, drag it out if you can. I face Jax after your fight, but I need to know our friends are safe. Can you do that for me?"
"You send SR-C.J. on important mission? He will definitely do the fucking of it, Captain."
"C.J. has help, don't worry about that. Just make this…entertaining."
"Oh, Captain," Elvis growled menacingly. "You understand that I have never been happier than I am now. Elvis is god of carnage and retribution. Elvis has become engorged at the thought of ripping my enemy to pieces. I will burn the flesh from bone and piss on the pile of ashes."
"Jesus, Elvis. Engorged? Really? Who has been teaching you these words?"
"Is that not right word, Captain?" Elvis asked, grunting from the pressure of his chains.
"We can talk about that later."
I looked over the arena to see at least 50 Council security force guards dropping into the combat zone, and my blood boiled as I saw Jax drop directly in front of Elvis. I quickly tried to identify a few of the guards and saw levels ranging from 30 to 46. This wouldn't be easy, but Elvis wouldn't have it any other way.
Jax walked up to Elvis and squatted in front of him, grabbing one of the chains and testing the tension with a whistle. "Looks like they got you really tied up here, Elvis."
"Eat the shit!" Elvis barked and lunged at Jax, surprisingly causing the entire platform to rock forward.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, big guy!" Jax chuckled and stood up. "I always liked you, Elvis. Well, except for the blind loyalty to that fuck up, Dawes." Jax started slowly circling Elvis as he spoke. "Now, listen up. I got 50 of the baddest motherfuckers in the Council Security force out there in that arena, and they do not like you, Bubba. So, I'll give you one chance to join us. You don't have to die with him, and honestly, Karis treats his people real good," Jax squatted down face level with Elvis once again. "So whadya say?"
Elvis stared intently at Jax before replying. "What do I say? I say you can eat the shit! If I die for Captain Dawes, I die with honor you will never know…Fuckboy!"
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Jax guffawed with laughter as he stood back up. "Fuckboy? Still working on those words, huh? Look, Elvis, you are in here with 50 killers, and if somehow you manage to get past them, I'll be waiting for you. You are in what we like to call a no-win situation here."
"You are wrong," Elvis settled back onto his platform, no longer struggling.
"Wrong? Why don't you tell me what I'm wrong about, Elvis?"
"Elvis is not in here with these…killers. They are in here with Elvis!" Elvis' eyes began to glow like lava as trails of heat escaped from the corners. His chains began to glow orange, and the manacles on his hands began to bubble. Elvis roared and bucked against his bindings as Jax panicked and grabbed a line that was hanging from a drone, escaping to the center of the arena.
"It looks like the fight is on! Everyone, get ready for Carnage!!!" The announcer shouted as the arena became illuminated and plasma rounds began ripping through the air in Elvis's direction. With one final roar, Elvis exploded from his bindings, heaving with anger and energy, swinging his head side to side, looking for his first victim.
"Elvis!" I shouted into the comms.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Attack," I said calmly.
"Understood, Captain."
"We're doing what?" Michael said as he caught up with C.J. in the armory.
"We're going to save the crew." C.J. was checking his Havok Hound drop suit and preparing to equip it as he spoke. "Natasha has identified the ship where they are being held. We have to get to that ship, board it, and set them free. There are at least eight enemy combatants onboard. On the plus side, they will likely not be using combat armor, so while we can expect resistance, it shouldn't be anything we can't handle. I can't do this alone, Michael. I need you and Kinthragor if this is going to work."
"Look, man. I know my way around a fight, but I have never used one of these combat suits before," Michael motioned over at Kinthragor, "and I don't think Kinny here can even fit in one. What even is our plan here, C.J.?"
Kinthragor stepped forward. "Michael is my friend. I have committed myself to helping him, but this seems foolish. How do we even penetrate the Council's Defense and reconnaissance network? If we are identified, this fight will be over before it begins."
Michael started pacing. "Eight minutes to infiltrate that ship, neutralize the enemy force, then locate and figure out how to free everyone," He ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't see it, C.J., that is not enough time. We don't know what they have on that ship in terms of firepower. By the time we get into the damn thing, they will be ready and defensible. Is this really your plan?"
Natasha replied. "No, unfortunately, it is more complicated than that. The Bloodhound cannot stay to support your exfil. An eight-minute window would not leave enough time for me to get you all to safety without alerting a quick reaction squad. It would take approximately 81 seconds to connect the umbilical for entry, and even longer to return seven bodies to the ship. No, I am afraid that in the limited time I have had to process simulations, our best chances of success have a much higher possible mortality rate." C.J. looked up nervously. "Natasha," he said the name slowly and nervously. What are you planning? "
"I am afraid the simulation with the highest probability of success involves several aspects that you will all be rather trepidatious about. The Council security force on that vessel will be prepared for any potential attack. They are aware that they are holding four high-value prisoners. They will have been instructed to be on high alert at all times. They understand that they are in an unmarked vessel, and I would assume that the crew on that vessel is made up of the most combat-capable soldiers that were available. Also, there is the minor inconvenience of not being able to board the vessel through a typical boarding umbilical, and the limited time we have. With all that being factored in, I have decided on your best plan of action.
C.J. wrung his hands nervously. "Natasha! Just spit it out already, DAMN!"
"I have decided on a fancy name for the mission as well, you're gonna love it." Natasha was sounding positively giddy all of a sudden.
"Don't care about the damn name, Natasha, just tell us the plan already!" C.J. begged.
Michael rubbed his temples vigorously. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"
"Okay, okay, so here is the plan." Natasha put on her most excited teenage girl voice. "I am going to jump the Bloodhound in as close to the containment vessel as I can get it. The vessel will definitely see this, so the next part will have to happen fast. I want to throw you all at it."
C.J. threw his hands up and groaned. "You want to fucking throw us at the containment vessel. Just chuck us out the back of the ship and have us fly through empty space, and what? Just catch the outside of the thing and hang on for dear life?" "No, C.J.," Natasha replied, offended. "I want to shoot you through the viewport on the bridge."
"Nope, no, not happening," C.J. made a cutting motion across his throat. "Use your little computer brain and run another simulation. We can make another plan."
"C.J., I have run thousands of simulations while you were talking just now. I am afraid this is our best plan of action. You can each fit in a missile tube. Your drop suit contains enough metal that the magnets used to accelerate our missiles will work on you. I will lower the missile tubes to minimum expulsion power so that they won't rip you to pieces. I can aim you all with precision, and the viewport on that bridge is eight feet tall from top to bottom, which is plenty of room to fit you all one after the other with a low probability of injury. Most importantly, it will give us the element of surprise."
"She is making a lot of sense," Michael said.
"It is an interesting plan. I would make for a tale I could tell my family proudly upon returning to my homeworld." Kinthragor added.
"Fuck me…" C.J. looked at Michael. "We're getting shot out of a spaceship, aren't we?
Michael walked up and patted him on the shoulder. "From everything you have told me, you and Elvis have quite the rivalry going, right?"
"Yeah, it's a whole," C.J. waved his hand in the air, "thing."
"Has he ever been shot out of a spaceship?"Michael asked.
"Damn it," C.J. gritted his teeth. "Put your suits on. Natasha, fill us in on the rest of the plan while we suit up and make our way to the missile tubes."
"Did you want to hear the name?!" Natasha asked.
"Ugh, sure, Natasha. What is the name of the mission?" C.J. moaned.
"Oh, Yes! You're gonna love it! After monitoring you in your quarters recently, I named it after you!"
"Oh, Yeah?!" C.J. looked at Michael with a smile, patted his chest, then pointed up at the ceiling. "Hear that? Named it after me. Natasha, what is the name?"
Natasha approximated clearing her throat. "Operation Premature Ejaculation."