Page 41 of Us Dark Few

Serene was able to find out his name, Brock, but nothing more. No one knew the crime he committed.

She heard several theories over the last couple of weeks—trying to flee to Hermes, killing another Death-Zoner, plotting to steal all the radiation suits, and attempting to bombApollo were some of her favorites.

A few brave prisoners approached Brock and asked why he was sentenced to Braderhelm and about his experience on the surface. He never answered them, and after breaking a prisoner’s nose for lingering too long, most people gave him a wide berth.

“Oh, I have to see this.” Serene grabbed Khalani’s hand and pulled her through the crowd.

Few situations existed where being short was a distinct advantage, but getting through a massive crowd was definitely one of them.

“Sorry, sorry,” she kept saying as they bumped into prisoners.

Serene was less polite. “Move, people.”

They finally squeezed to the front. The cheers were so loud they nearly drowned out her thoughts. In front of Khalani, Brock’s beefy arms were crossed over his chest, a stone-cold expression plastered on his face, with blond hair cropped tight to his scalp. He wasn’t what Khalani would call handsome, but he carried himself in a way that made you fear and respect him.

There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was pure muscle and stood well over six feet, which would’ve been extremely intimidating for any other opponent.

The guard he faced was a monster of a man. The guard’s chest was bare, and his shoulders looked like mountains. He couldn’t even put his arms fully down to his side, that was how colossal they were. Despite Brock’s immense height, the guard was several inches taller and thicker.

“The Death-Zoner’s entering the pit to fighthim? Dude must want to die,” Serene mumbled.

Khalani caught sight of Takeshi standing at the opposite edge of the circle, flanked by several guards. His stormy eyes suddenly flickered to hers as if he could sense her gaze. This was the most they had interacted in weeks.

Her pulse quickened, but she refused to be the first to look away.

Takeshi’s gaze narrowed with irritation and he broke the contact, shifting his focus to the two men before him.

Some things never change.

The Death-Zoner and the immense guard geared up to face each other, and the pit lit up brighter than the tri-centennial celebration of Apollo.

“Let’s go, Brock!!” prisoners yelled.

“Rip him apart, Brock!”

“Kill him!!!”

The shouts escalated into a constant roar, and Khalani put her hands over her ears to mask the noise. The guard gestured to the crowd to silence them, and they strangely obeyed, all attention fixated on the two men.

“You’re going to die, Death-Zoner. And I’m more than happy to be your executioner.” The guard pointed to Brock, his deep baritone rivaling the depth of Braderhelm.

The Death-Zoner’s eyes darkened. “I’ve been at death’s door many times. I call it home.”

With that, Brock crouched and angled his body to the side, holding his fists up to his face. The giant guard smirked in response and moved forward.

He didn’t bother to turn his body to the side like Brock to appear smaller. Instead, he faced him head-on and threw a massive swing at Brock. Brock effortlessly dodged the punch and stepped back, his hands held protectively in front of his face.

There was no more room for quiet in the pit. The crowd erupted, and everyone was enthralled by the scene in front of them.

Brock danced on his feet, shuffling forward a few steps while still angled to the side. With an infuriated grunt, the guard took another shot, but Brock ducked to the left and countered with a swift strike that nailed the guard’s nose. The guard barely flinched and swung his other fist.

Brock leaned back and moved around the circle, facing his opponent from a different angle. With his back to Khalani, she could only focus on the fire and rage in the guard’s eyes.

The guard yelled and lunged at Brock with his whole body. Brock dove and rolled to the left.

Growing impatient, the guard snarled and charged again. Brock twisted his body and jumped, spinning mid-air and slamming his foot into the guard’s neck. The guard staggered back, trying to shake his head from the impact, but his legs began to wobble.

The roar of the crowd reached a crescendo when the guard tried to throw a fist but was clearly unstable from the jaw-dropping kick. Brock easily knocked away the hand and pummeled him square in the jaw.

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