Page 92 of Flame and Fury

“I guess I was a little excited.”

The other three hop down next to us, putting a halt to the moment. Another roar echoes through the tunnel, and just like that, my attention is back on the task at hand. We have work to do. We walk single file along the tracks, keeping our flashlights low to the ground and pausing occasionally to listen. Beyond the intermittent roars, the skittering of creatures I don't want to see, and the ominous drip of water into puddles, I don't hear anything else.

The air is stale in the tunnels. There's a mustiness that combines with damp dirt and being underground that’s unpleasant. As soon as we found out where the challenge was being held, we got hold of any subway maps we could find. It's not like the city puts out announcements every year regarding which routes are closed and when they shut down. We've had to cobble together our best guesses based on the plans we could access and information off the dark web. Lark had all kinds of contacts, surprising me. I've barely touched a computer in my lifetime, so I was purely an observer.

We didn’t have much time, though, so all of this was done in a hasty scramble.

Sweat drips down my back as we pick our way through debris that's been thrown down onto the tracks over the years. It’s a collection of glass bottles, half disintegrated coffee cups, broken pieces of Styrofoam, and the remnants of animal bones that perished down here. It's cheery.

Atlas holds up his hand, and we all stop.

“Shut off your lights,” Atlas whispers. The clicks of five flashlights turning off precede the complete and utter darkness that wraps around us. There’s a scampering of critters moving around by our feet. I roll my shoulders, but I really want to scratch my skin. Nothing is crawling on me, but there’s something about the sound that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

I’m distracted from the skittering by sounds of grunting.

It’s vaguely reminiscent of someone having sex, but I really hope that’s not the case. Atlas is mouthwateringly hot in his t-shirt and tactical pants. I still don’t want him pressing any part of my naked body up against the rotted wood beams separating different tracks. Or even worse, against the pockmarked and graffiti walls that have liquid of some sort seeping down their sides.

I don’t want to know what kind of garbage juice that is.

“You mother fucking piece of ass-kissing feces,” a woman snarls, sounding choked and raspy.

I recognize that voice.

There's a thwack. And a grunt. Then, more cursing. This time from a man. Ah fuck. I know that voice too.

“Greer and Preston are here,” I hiss to the others, in case they haven't figured it out yet. I can't see anyone’s response because we're in the fucking dark.

Shit, shit, shit. We knew there was a chance of running into one of them down here, but come on. We've only been underground for a half hour. There are miles and miles of tunnels underneath New York. How did we find them already?

Where there are champions, there is sure to be drones flying around too. If we get caught by the drones, there's no telling how long we'll survive down here without one of the gods intervening.

“Crusty ballsack.” Greer must be landing hits because her words are choppy, and Preston is making some embarrassing wheezing sounds.

“I'm going to slam that smug face into the rail and laugh while it fries your skin away.”

Greer is pissed. I’ve missed her scowl.

We should turn around and run in the opposite direction. I can't see a damn thing, but it sounds like Greer is winning the fight. What if she isn’t? Can I turn my back on her and leave her with Preston? Even though I know she's a better fighter than him, and smarter. She’s essentially a thousand times better than him in every way. Leaving her behind isn’t a risk I'm willing to take.

“We have to help her.” I keep my voice as quiet as possible.

“We need to get that amulet.” Atlas reminds me, as if I've forgotten.

“I know. But if we're willing to risk someone's life, to judge that they're not worthy because it interferes with our plans, then how are we any better than the gods we're fighting against?” I'm breathless, panting, struggling to keep my voice from getting too loud.

I feel the others growing restless around me, hear their shifting feet. We don't have time to waste debating shit in this tunnel.

Greer gasps, and it's a sound I've never heard from her. I've been fighting to keep my Fury down for years, only letting it out in the darkest hours of the night. I don't want to hide who I am any longer. Now is the worst time to reveal myself, but my instinct is screaming at me to do something. To finally put Preston in his place and let him see what his transgressions have reaped.

I take off down the tunnel, running toward Greer, and I let my Fury loose. My wings unfold from my back, and I nearly groan at the pleasure of finally having them free. Thankfully, the tank I’m wearing is a racerback. I don’t need to shred through my clothes in the middle of a fight.

The tunnel is large enough that I can spread my wings. One beat and I propel myself forward, yanking the whip off my hip and flicking the flashlight back on.

“Who the fuck is there?” Preston's head snaps around as my light hits the two of them. Greer is on the ground. Somehow, Preston got her onto her stomach. He's kneeling on her back, holding her body down while his hand is on her face, forcing it toward the fucking third rail. Greer is fighting for all she's worth, but he's got her in a bad position.

I snap my whip and it wraps around Preston's wrist. He barks out a surprised sound. I pull the whip toward me and yank Preston off of Greer. He falls onto his back, but he's on his feet fast enough that I'm impressed. Or I would be if it was anyone other than this asshole. The lash of the whip is still wrapped around Preston's wrist, and he twists it, grabbing it in his hand and pulling on his end. I don't need the whip, though, and let it go. He stumbles back from the unexpected loss of resistance.

“Who the fuck is there?”

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