Suzu crossed the ring before Caleb finished raising his forearms.
Her boot left the dirt. The armored shin struck the side of his helmet, and the visor split in a web of cracks. His head snapped sideways. The suit collar locked around his neck as his feet came off the ground.
He hit the dirt, rolled twice, and stopped with one shoulder beneath him.
For a moment he could hear only the ringing inside his helmet. He spat grit and tried to turn his head. The collar released slowly. Without it, the kick would have broken his neck.
His baton lay a few feet away.
Suzu landed, shut off her thrusters, and returned the training blade to her back rig. She turned toward the drones.
"Evaluation complete. Target incapacitated in a single strike. Zero combat readiness."
Caleb pushed both hands into the dirt. Blood ran from his nose into the chin guard. The surplus suit whined when he brought a knee under him, its fibers barely helping him lift the plates.
Suzu was already presenting her undamaged right side to the nearest camera.
"Hey."
She turned.
He wiped his nose with his gauntlet. "I've had a dead Honju hit harder than that."
The camera swung between them. Suzu's eyes narrowed behind her visor.
Caleb picked up the baton and got his boots beneath him. "Is that prototype built for fighting, or just the pictures?"
"Stay down, scrubber. I'll break something you need."
"Come break it."
He watched her feet. He needed a chance to move inside the reach of the prototype, where its speed would have less room to work. Standing still and letting her choose the distance had put him on the floor.
The private viewer wanted her hurt. Caleb had not even managed to touch her. A promise of money would do him no good if he could not get his body to move.
Suzu came in with her left fist aimed at his ribs.
He stepped toward her leading foot, trying to pass the punch. The suit followed late. His boot landed while the fist was already turning into him.
The chest plate held. The force went through it anyway.
Caleb stumbled sideways. Suzu followed, drove a knee into his stomach, and knocked the air out of him. His baton hand dropped. Her open palm struck his chest before he could bring it back up.
He tried to turn with the shove. Her elbow caught his jaw.
The dirt came up through the broken glass in his visor. He landed on his back and saw her heel above him.
Caleb raised the baton across both forearms.
The wood split beneath her boot. Pressure drove his elbows toward his chest. He twisted enough to get the heel off the broken shaft, but the movement left his shoulder exposed.
She kicked the pieces away and jabbed him hard in the joint.
His left arm went numb. He rolled onto one knee, coughing blood. He could still lift the right, though its weight seemed to have doubled.
"Surrender," Suzu said. She held her ground with a fist cocked. "You proved you can get up. Now stay down."
Caleb looked past her at the applicants around the ring. Kei stood near the front, hands motionless at his sides.
Caleb had come here to get beyond the disposal line. He could not keep paying for his brother's oxygen by losing shifts and coming home injured. But he had not found a way past her guard, and getting up again would not make the suit faster.
He spat blood and tried to raise his right forearm. If she struck, he needed it between her fist and his head.
Heat ignited behind his ribs.
It poured into his shoulder and down his arm. The sleeve tightened against his bicep. Seams pulled, and the lining whined against the expanding muscle.
Caleb tried to open his hand. His arm was already moving.
Green text flashed across the cracked display.
[RIGHT ARM SYNC RATE: 97%]
Suzu drove her right fist down.
His arm snapped upward to meet it.
The impact drove through his shoulder and burst outward in a pressure wave. Dirt lifted around his knee. The concrete underneath fractured, and the nearest drones spun away from the ring.
Suzu flew twenty feet backward. She struck the steel barricade with her right side and bent the fencing outward. The sound reached Caleb through the ringing in his ears.
The green number vanished.
[SYNC RATE: 0.08%]
The heat left his chest. His right hand dropped, and the rest of the suit sagged around him. He tried to stand, but the armor's weight drove both knees into the dirt.
He told his fingers to close.
Nothing moved.
Across the ring, Suzu pushed away from the barricade. Her right arm hung at a stiff angle. She lifted it an inch, stopped, and pulled it against her waist instead.
"That didn't hurt."
Her voice cracked. She raised her chin and bit her lower lip before trying again.
"You think a cheap shot like that works on me?"
The public board flashed red.
[SUZU SHISHIDO: CRITICAL ARMOR INTEGRITY. RIGHT BICEP-FOREARM.]
She took a step toward Caleb and raised her left hand. The right shook against her side.
A buzzer cut across the stadium.
The proctor came into the ring with the checkered flag lowered.
"Match concluded. Applicant Shishido wins on points and dominant control."
Suzu stopped. She looked at Caleb, then at the red warning above them. Her uninjured hand closed into a fist.
She turned and marched out through the applicants, keeping her damaged arm tight to her waist. The drones followed.
The proctor stopped beside Caleb.
"Both applicants showed high survival potential. Applicant 4013, report to the medical bay for evaluation."
Caleb tried his fingers again. He could feel the glove against them. They would not move inside it.
"My arm isn't working."
The proctor raised a hand toward the medics waiting beyond the ring.
Two came across the gravel and knelt beside him. One touched the side of his helmet to read the diagnostic feed. The other supported his right gauntlet.
"Don't stand yet," the first said.
The second lifted his forearm. Pain shot through his shoulder into his neck. His jaw locked before he could tell her to stop.
She lowered it immediately and shifted her grip beneath the elbow.
"Localized sync spike," the first medic said, watching the display. "Then a full drop. The neural pathways overloaded."
Caleb looked at the gray number. The whole suit was below the score they had laughed at before the fight.
"Try to move your fingers."
He stared at the index finger inside his glove and tried to bend it. His left hand curled against the dirt with the effort.
The right stayed loose.
The medic brought a brace from her kit. "Keep the shoulder still."
"Is it dislocated?"
She held his elbow while the other passed a strap behind his back.
"Or is it nerve damage?"
Neither answered. The strap tightened, lifting the arm against his torso. He could no longer see the index finger without turning his head.
"Again," the first medic said. "Just the fingers. Don't pull against the brace."
Caleb tried. He waited for a twitch, even a movement he had not asked for.
The glove hung still.
"Does this mean I'm done? Can I continue testing?"
"That decision isn't mine," the medic said. She checked the final buckle. "You need a medical evaluation first."
He looked toward the broken ground. Applicants stood around it, watching the medics instead of the leaderboard. The wooden baton lay in pieces beside his boot.
"If I can't use the arm, I can't fight."
The medics packed their kits and stood to signal the stretcher team. Neither gave him an answer.
Caleb kept trying to bend the finger while he waited.