The Starter Read Online Free PDF Page B

that sport without mods. If I certified as a pro fighter, which you have to do in order to get mods, then no football.”
    “So why did you choose football?”
    “I’m a better football player than a fighter,” John said. “I make a load of money in football, but I’d be lucky to earn a living in the octagon. I can’t even beat up my brother, Ju. He had a few pro fights, even sparred again Chiyal North.”
    “The Heretic ?” Quentin said. “You’re kidding me, right?”
    “Nope. Ju is the baddest man I know, and Chiyal whooped him.”
    “Chiyal is a hero where I come from,” Quentin said. “We don’t exactly have a lot of intergalactic sports stars coming out of the Purist Nation. Last night’s fight... such a tragedy.”
    John nodded sadly. “A real shame he died right there in the Octagon against Korak the Cutter, but what a bout! I mean, my man Chiyal used his own shinbone to stab Korak. That’s why the Heretic is the champ — whatever it takes to win.”
    “ Was the champ,” Quentin said. “Dead men don’t hold titles.”
    John shrugged. “Korak died first, so Chiyal won the bout. He died the champ. Hey man, if I had to die to win a Galaxy Bowl? I’d do it in a heartbeat. A championship is immortality, Q. Immortality.”
    Quentin shook his head and started to argue, but stopped when he realized that he felt the same way. Quentin had long ago decided he would do anything needed to win a GFL Tier One title. Anything . Was he so different, then, from Chiyal “The Heretic” North, who had died winning the undisputed heavyweight title?
    John stopped walking and looked up at a twenty-story red building on his left. “This is it, Q, we’re here.” He turned to look at Quentin. John stared with wide, crazy eyes. His eyes always looked like that, except for when he was on the football field, when they were wider and crazier, which was bad, or when they crinkled in time with one of his psycho smiles, which was far, far worse.
    “Don’t you embarrass me in there,” John said. “None of your hayseed hick-osity. This is a serious guy I’m introducing you to here. A serious guy.”
    “What makes you think I’ll embarrass you?”
    John shook his head, the words
DUMB SPELLED BACKWARD IS BMUD
scrolling across his face. He opened the door and walked in. Quentin followed.
    Maybe they were past the edge of the nightclub district, because this place looked like some kind of an office building. Quentin looked around, suddenly realized something odd — aside from a couple of nightclubs, he hadn’t seen the inside of anything in Ionath City other than the Krakens building.
    Outside, all the buildings were varying shades of red. This lobby? All white. In the middle of the lobby, a Quyth Worker sat behind a circular desk. A couple of scarred Ki wearing green uniforms stood on either side. They looked out of shape, perhaps, but also had that aura of ex-soldiers or former cops. Whatever their past, now they worked office-building security.
    John strode to the reception desk like he owned the place. The Ki on either side didn’t have to turn their heads to watch him, what with their 360-degree vision and all, but you could tell they were instantly paying close attention to the two massive Humans.
    The Quyth Worker behind the desk wasn’t like the slovenly ones Quentin often saw in the bars and nightclubs, swilling gin, nearly drinking themselves into a coma. This one was dressed in a tidy green uniform. The Worker reminded Quentin of Messal the Efficient, the Krakens team manager.
    The Worker recognized John, and his one eye flooded with yellow. “Well, Mister Jo—”
    John held up a hand, cutting off the worker’s sentence. “I’m Mister Smith,” John said. “That person you thought you just saw? He was never here.”
    John pulled the pint of Junkie Gin out of his beerdoleer.
    The Worker looked at it greedily, then tapped a couple of buttons that probably turned off cameras somewhere in the