Seth gripped the side of the bathroom sink and stared at himself in the mirror. His face was bloody, bruised, and despite some random kid they called ‘doc’ helping reset his broken nose, he'd have black eyes for sure tomorrow. But he felt alive. This was more than he felt after a tournament. This was real. This was raw. There hadn't been any rules, not of any kind that mattered. His knuckles turned white and the smallest grin played at the edge of his lips.

This was the best he’d felt since he broke up with Madeline, except maybe the time he had spent with Emma over last weekend. But even that had been tainted by the less than a day old emotional injury of learning that his girlfriend had been cheating on him for months. Emma was good, but he was still numb. The fight with his father had forced all the emotions buried deep inside him out to the forefront of his mind. No more numbness. Even if bloodthirst was what replaced it, that was better. That was something.

The door pushed open and Seth turned to see Nicole standing there. She was wearing a black silk robe that terminated quite a bit above the knee, barely held together by the tied belt, and Seth could tell she wasn’t wearing anything at all underneath. She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

"You look like hell."

Seth shrugged, his traps sore from absorbing the whiplash of the blows to his head.

"Looks a bit like you've never fought before."

"I have."

"Hm." Nicole stepped forward and reached up to his face. "There's still blood."

She wiped his right cheek with a finger, then stared at the crimson smear before looking back to him. She put the finger in her mouth and sucked it clean. Seth's eyebrows shot up. "What the hell?"

"I like the taste of blood."

"That's not even remotely sanitary. You don't even know which of us that blood belongs to!"

She half-smiled. "I've always liked the taste. When I was a little kid, I'd never tell my parents when I got a paper cut because I would just suck on it until it closed."

Seth nodded slowly. "Yeah. That's a bit weird."

She shrugged. "Everyone has something weird about them." She stepped back towards the door. "Now quit moping in here and come join the party.” She raised an eyebrow. “I'll be waiting for you." She left and closed the door behind her.

Seth locked the door and undressed before turning the water on. Ice cold. Freezing water always felt best after a fight. Seth stepped in and let the water wash away any emotions plaguing him. He felt better. Awake.

Seth stayed in the cold for a few more minutes, his mind empty, the void satisfied. With a small bit of reluctance, after a few minutes, he turned off the water.

BANG!

Seth froze with one foot out of the shower. That was a gunshot. A chorus of screams pierced the thumping beat of the music and more gunshots followed, rounds being fired off in different parts of the building. Seth threw his shirt, jeans, and shoes on and turned off the bathroom light, then eased the door open and peeked out through as tiny a crack as he could.

Looking down the hallway and out over the lip of the second-floor landing, Seth could see part of the living room below. It was absent of partiers, but several bodies lay down face-first on the floor. Even in dim light, Seth could see the carpet turning red. Among the carnage stood two figures, both tall and obviously muscular. They wore dark cargo pants and long sleeve shirts that looked paramilitary in style. Each of them had an empty drop-holster on their hip. The missing guns were in their hands. Their faces were concealed by gaiters drawn up to their noses, but Seth could tell they were talking. After a moment, one of them nodded and they walked off out of sight.

Seth swallowed and eased the door shut, stepping back and away from it. What was this? Bloodsport, he’d been prepared for. A shooting? Seth clamped down on his throat at the urge to vomit. That would make noise. Who the hell were those men?

BANG! BANG!

Two more gunshots rang out and Seth clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as fear flooded his body. That void moved just a little at the touch of a foreign emotion. Could he hide in here? As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he knew the answer was no unless he could squeeze into the tiny cabinet space under the sink. But that would just make him helpless, an easy target if the two gunmen came in here. Seth looked at the shower and the black curtain that hung there, not five feet opposite the door. He swallowed. Maybe if they came in here he could surprise them… The image of uncontrolled gunfire went through Seth’s head.

It might be his only chance. It was that or make a run for it, but god knew how he was going to get back. What if Nicole had already bolted, or worse, was dead? He’d be stuck on those winding country roads he didn’t know, being hunted down-

Footsteps on the staircase.

“You clear left, I clear right.”

Fuck.

Seth moved as silently as he could back to the tub, the floor still slick with water, and hid behind the curtain. The sound of a door slamming open came from one room closer to the staircase, mirrored on the opposite side of the hall.

“Get the fuck down!”

Two fast gunshots rang out, followed by one more less than a second later. Seth heard the thud of a body hitting the floor, followed by panicked screaming.

“I said get on the goddamn ground!”

SLAM!

The door the bathroom smashed open into the wall. Seth steadied his breath. The hallway light cast the shadow of the gunman into the tub. Seth’s hands shook. The gunman took a step in, still out of his line of sight. Seth reached down for the void within him. He needed that, but it was coated in terror. The raging anger and numbness had to awake if he wanted to survive this. Seth saw fingers curl around the edge of the curtain and grip it. He swallowed. Void or no void, he had to act.

“Aaaagh!” A female voice screamed with bloodcurdling fury. The sound of meat separating from bone was followed by a wet splatter. The hand froze to the curtain and the gunman fell down into the shower, dead. Nicole stood over him, a forward curved knife in hand. A kukri.

“She’s on floor two, east wing!” Came the voice from across the hallway. Nicole pivoted on her rear foot and stepped forward, her left hand moving from her side up until her arm was parallel from the ground. Something flew from her hand and Seth heard a thud followed by a cry of pain. Nicole sprinted out of the bathroom and crashed into the next room, the sounds of a life-or-death struggle breaking out.

Seth unfroze himself and stepped over the body on the ground, already covering the floor of the bathroom in a pool of blood draining from the grievous wound in the base of its skull. Across the hall, Nicole struggled. The gunman had dropped his weapon and held her with one hand around the neck, the other on her wrist to prevent a deadly blow from the kukri. The gun lay on the ground in the hallway. Seth could hear booted feet getting closer to the staircase landing below them. He had to act.

Seth dove for the gun and came up, the unfamiliar weight heavy in his hands. He raised it, forcing his breath down, using every ounce of mental fortitude he had to not wave the barrel every which way with his shaky arms. They struggled perpendicular to him now, he had a clean shot, only three feet away. He couldn’t miss.

He squeezed the trigger. Well, tried. It wouldn’t depress.

“Take,” growled Nicole as she smashed her forearm into the gunman’s elbow to try and break his grip on her neck. “The safety off!”

Seth looked at the gun. He had no idea where the hell the safety was, or what it was supposed to look like. Those booted feet would be up the stairs in half a second. Seth dropped the gun and charged forward, seizing the throwing knife embedded in the gunman’s shoulder, then hauled back to punch it through the side of his skull.

A boot lashed out and smashed into him six inches above the knee cap. Seth’s leg flew out from under him and he crashed into the floor, losing his breath, but he still had the knife. Seth reached and shoved the blade into the gunman’s calf, just above the top of his boots. The void pulsed with a suggestion. Seth ripped to the side, severing the calf with a spray of blood. The gunman screamed like a child, letting go of Nicole.

The kukri drove through his face and he fell silent.

“Get the fuck up,” said Nicole, snatching his wrist with an iron grip and dragging him to his feet. Two other bodies lay on the ground in the bedroom, both in a state of undress. Seth felt his stomach roil with bile and vomit.

“Uh-uh, not now. Come on.” Nicole jerked his wrist again and started running across the room toward the window.

“We’re on the second-”

Nicole jumped, curling into a ball and crashing through the window panes in a shower of glass. With the force she pulled him with, Seth had no choice but to dive and follow.

They fell.

Seth landed on top of Nicole, her shoulder in his gut, the small amount of air he had regained forced out of him yet again. He rolled off her, expecting her to be yelling in pain from a broken rib cage, but she was on her feet. “Get up, now!”

Seth forced himself up. If she could survive that, so could he. She looked him dead in the eyes, any trace of the mellowness he had seen several times completely gone. They were black pools of fire-hardened determination. “Run with me.”

And then, she took off into the night.