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There were no memories to tell him where his own training came from, but he had some too. The man stepped forward and threw a punch that Mark dodged easily. His legs still felt strange, but the Voice had instructed him to fight, and there was no other option.
He would fight.
But after a few minutes, both taking and giving some blows, it felt wrong. Just for a second.
He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to fight.
But there wasn’t anything else for him to do. This was what the Voice had said to do, and that was the end of it. Wasn’t it?
He moved, sidestepping his opponent and bringing his elbow up for a strike, and it hit. Pain radiated down his arm, and he backed off.
Why was he doing this?
His thoughts disappeared, sinking below the surface.
Fight to the last man standing.
“They’re fighting each other.” The woman. “See? I did what you asked. They’re obeying you, and they didn’t have a bad reaction. Stop this now.”
The man came at him and landed a punch to Mark’s side. He grunted and blocked, returning the hit, the two of them grappling, struggling for dominance before breaking apart.
Mark saw the gleam of combat in the man’s eyes, and it was…familiar. As if he’d seen it before. Determination and grit.
As he’d seen when Callum had come to them in Oak Creek.
The thought froze him before it disappeared, allowing his opponent to land a cracking hit against his jaw. He nearly fell, but he got his feet underneath him again, able to retreat to avoid another hit. This felt normal. This felt better.
Fixing his stance, Mark dug in his feet just before Callum crashed into him, sending them both to the floor. It reminded him of when his leg had gone out sparring with Jenna.
Right before he kissed her.
His mind tried to drag the memories into the stream again. Into nothing. But it didn’t fully work this time.
There were echoes of his life, and he was clinging to them now even as he swung for Callum’s head, missed, and followed up with a combination to his torso.
“Stop playing with each other,” the Voice said.
Only it wasn’t the Voice. It was Joaquin. Joaquin Martinez. Wasn’t it?
Mark had the advantage, but he backed away. His head was spinning and battling itself, trying to return to the state of simple calm and obedience of doing what the Voice told him to.
But the rest of his mind was saying no.Hell no.
Fight.
He ducked under Callum’s kick and threw his body at him, taking them down to the stained floor mat. They were both making sounds, grunting as they exchanged hits. But within that, he heard the words disguised as sounds of battle.
“Remember. Focus.”
Had he said that? Had Callum?
They rolled apart and came to their feet. With every passing second, Mark’s mind was coming back to him more and more. He tried to keep his focus singular and make it seem like he was still under the effect of the drugs.
The compound. A robot.
Mark was supposed to be a robot under Joaquin’s control right now, but he was coming out of it on his own.
Jenna.
