Chapter 22 · Iron Arena - Chapter 22: Fight With a Target

The cockpit smells like burnt copper and someone else's sweat. The mech's previous pilot didn't clean the neural rig. I can taste it on the sync leads pressed against my temples.

I don't have time to care. The other mech is already moving.

Red indicators bloom across my HUD. The crowd's so loud I can feel it through the arena floor, a bass hum that rattles up through the mech's feet and into my spine. Cole's voice cuts through on the private channel, flat and calm. "She's faster than you. Don't chase."

"I know." My hands are already slick inside the control gloves.

The opponent—call sign Razorback, pilot name I didn't bother learning—comes in high. Her mech's lighter than mine, custom-built for speed. Mine's a rental. Thorne threw it together from three different frames and didn't bother with paint. It's ugly. It's also the only thing standing between me and a one-way ticket back to the slums.

I need this win.

Razorback feints left and I read it a half-second too late. Her blade catches my shoulder joint and the impact jars through the sync. My teeth click together. The crowd roars.

"Don't let her get close.