The crowd erupted into chaos, a wall of voices breaking all at once, screams and shouts tangling together under the sudden curtain of darkness. People shoved into each other blindly, hands grasping for bearings, and the metal railings groaned as panicked bodies pressed against them. Nobody could see clearly, not fully, the dome plunged into a chaos of shadows.
Isaak's jaw tightened as he rose from his seat. He spun to his men, his voice cutting through the confusion like a whip.
"Turn on the backup lights. Now!"
Below, Bobo was still in the middle of the brawl he had started, and he was winning. Men almost his size were crumpling under his fists, their groans drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Amelia leaned against the railing above the arena, her hood up, her eyes locked forward, trying to pierce the murk. Her arm hung low over the edge, something gripped tightly in her hand. She muttered under her breath, steadying herself against the storm.
"Come on, Mikey… where are you…"
Then a hand caught her wrist. She flinched at the sudden grip, her body jostled by strangers shoving against her sides, the din of shouts filling her ears. Her head whipped down—
"Nadia… is that you?"
The voice was ragged, low, it was Mikey. Amelia's breath hitched, and she answered quickly, "Yeah."
His grip tightened just long enough to take the thing she carried.
"Thanks… you're a lifesaver."
He was gone before she could see his face, just the sound of his limping steps swallowed by the noise. She clenched the rail, whispering into the dark, unheard.
"Win this… don't die yet… I haven't even apologized…"
Mikey moved as fast as his battered legs allowed, weaving through the shadows until he reached the place where shattered glass and twisted metal from the broken lights littered the ground. He crouched low, boots crunching over shards, his body still screaming from being tossed around like a ragdoll. As his eyes adjusted, the hulking silhouette of the Blood Bear loomed still and slumped where he had left it. His theory was right. The beast's movement was chained to light. He dug into the wreckage frantically, hands scraping glass as he searched.
"Come on, come on… where are you…"
His fingers brushed against metal—then curled around it. A battery, its casing scarred, filaments and wires poking out like broken veins. Beside it, a narrow tank, almost the length of his forearm. He tugged both free, pulse quickening. The sharp, stinging smell of the tank told him instantly what it held, gasoline. It was just what he needed. The dome was old, built before the Stem War, constructed with cheap concrete and minimal upkeep. Mikey had gambled on the backup power being gas-fed, and he was right. He yanked the battery loose, twisting the frayed wires together with desperate precision, his bloody fingers knotting them until sparks hissed faintly between the tips.
"Please work, please work…"
He rubbed the wires fast, jaw clenched. The acrid scent of smoke reached his nose, and his lips curled into a grim smile.
"Yes…"
Looking towards the gasoline, he grabbed it and pulled off the cap, then tossed the tank aside, Mikey picked up the thing Amelia handed him...
A bottle of beer.
---
"I need you to do something for me…"
Her head lowered. "What is it?"
Mikey kept his eyes forward on the Blood Bear as it ripped apart the tarp, buying him seconds.
"I think that thing's movement runs on light, so I'm gonna shoot out the lights."
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"You're going to what?"
"Doesn't matter. Just listen, I need you to look around. Cigarette, match, lighter—anything flammable. Do you see anything?"
Amelia glanced quickly across the stands, keeping her hood low. Smoke from a cig curled on the far side of the dome, but too far to reach in time. She saw nothing else—until her eyes caught a man swigging from a brown glass bottle.
"I see a beer bottle…"
"How full?"
"About half."
Mikey nodded, mind already stitching the plan together.
"Perfect. Trip him, swipe it, don't get caught. When the lights go out, I'll come to you. Hand it off. If the bear comes for me before I can finish the job… have Luce shoot the rest."
Her voice shook.
"How?"
"You're smart. You'll figure it out... I trust you with this, Amelia. I'm trusting you with my life." His voice dipped, urgent but steady. "Please."
Her cheeks warmed, heat rising she refused to acknowledge. She swallowed hard, whispering back, "I got it. Stay alive, Mikey."
---
Mikey tore open the cap of the gas tank and poured it into the bottle Amelia had handed him. He sniffed, the fumes burning his nostrils, his chest tight with adrenaline. One-quarter full. It would have to do. He ripped the sleeve from his already torn shirt, tying the cloth around the smoking battery, creating a makeshift ignition. His hands shook as he balled it up, ready to stuff it into the bottle—
WHIIIIIRRRRL!
The backup lights snapped on all at once, flooding the dome with a blinding glare. The sudden flash scorched his eyes white, forcing him to cover his face with his arm. Around the dome, the crowd gasped and shielded themselves.
Bobo stood among a pile of groaning men, his chest heaving, one unconscious body dangling from his grip. Luce raised her arm to block the glare. Ryosuke didn't flinch, his eyes fixed on the arena floor, while Tobi squealed like a child, burying his face. Amelia, though, was scanning—her heart leaping when she spotted Mikey crouched over some crude contraption on the concrete. Above, Isaak and the Brass leaned forward. One of the men muttered low, unsettled:
"What the hell's the kid building down there…?"
Isaak narrowed his eyes, lips curling in something between curiosity and disdain.
"I've got no fucking clue."
Mikey forced himself to his feet, bottle in one hand, rifle in the other, just one bullet left in the chamber. His chest rose and fell, steadying, as his eyes locked on the Blood Bear. It stirred, slow and dreadful, its head lifting to sniff at the air, a rumble like an earthquake rolling from its throat. Mikey bared his teeth, lips slick with blood, and whispered through them.
"Come on, you ugly fuck…"
The bear crouched low, muscles tensing like springs, nostrils flaring as it found him again. Up in the stands, Amelia gripped the rail so tightly her knuckles whitened. Bobo dropped the man he held, his jaw hanging slack. Tobi peeked between his fingers, trembling, while Luce's nails dug into her palms. Ryosuke, eyes shadowed, spoke under his breath:
"Young Mikey… show them who you are."
Across the dome, beast and boy both began to move. The bear's trot shook the ground, dust rising with every pounding step. Mikey broke into a jog, his battered frame surging forward. Faster, harder—until they were both sprinting, a collision course that made the crowd scream in disbelief.
The Blood Bear roared, its maw gaping wide as it lunged. Mikey roared back, shoving every ounce of fear into rage. At the last second, he hurled the bottle straight into the monster's open jaws, its glass neck clinking against its teeth. Using the beast's momentum, Mikey dropped into a desperate slide, pushing himself under its bulk with the length of his rifle.
He tumbled onto his knees, spinning back just in time to see the creature skid to a halt. Its massive head turned toward him, mouth hanging open, and there—the bottle lodged between its jaws, gasoline glistening inside.
The beast thundered forward, charging him again, its roar shaking the walls. Mikey knelt low, turned his body, and raised the rifle. He lined the scope, one eye narrowing as the world shrank to a tunnel.
He has one bullet left, no redos, no mistakes. This was the shot, the only one that mattered. His life depended on it. He breathed in, hands trembling but steadying, and whispered inside his skull— hit it.