But the jerk was being so accusatory. If he’d been cordial, maybe Cavalon would have told him that he wholeheartedly agreed. Despite their propensity to launch into wars at the mere sight of one another, cloning as a moral no-no was one thing everyone, across all the species, saw eye to eye on. Even near the end of the Viator War, when populations on both sides had dipped to dangerously low levels, neither resorted to cloning to bolster their numbers.
So, yes, his grandfather’s approach to cloning and eugenics might have been borderline supervillain, but why did everyone have to assume he was in on it as well? Guilty by association was bullshit. Although “association” implied some degree of freedom. Maybe guilty by lamentable, shared DNA.
Regardless, Cavalon was the only one in the room who’d had enough balls to do anything about any of it. That’s how he’d ended up in this shitshow, after all.
But instead of explaining his laboratory-exploding heroics to his new comrades-in-arms, Cavalon did what he did best. Pissed everyone off.
“You’re right. I’m not sure a Drudger, cloned or not, would be as well-suited as you clearly are to babysitting the ass-edge of the universe.”
Barrow’s eyes sharpened, and he took another step forward. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying you’re dumber than a Drudger.” Cavalon looked up and feigned contemplation. “Oh, and uglier too.”
Barrow tossed his tray away while covering the remaining ground between them in two giant steps. He growled, then slammed his fist into the side of Cavalon’s face. His vision danced as he hit the floor hard.
Impressive—he’d truly not expected that approach. He’d pegged the guy as more of a brute strangler.
Cavalon struggled to regain his senses as feet shuffled toward him. Barrow’s friends picked Cavalon up by either arm, dragging him to his knees and holding him in place.
Barrow stalked forward, making a show of clenching each of his fists. Cavalon snorted out a bitter chuckle at the smug look on the burly man’s face. Like he’d never before had some jerk’s buddies try to hold him down so they could beat on him. It’d almost be pitiable, if it weren’t going to be so damn gratifying to show Barrow what a terrible fucking idea starting this fight had been.
Cavalon drew in a deep breath, a surge of adrenaline slicing through him. With the tide came the taste of copper and the buzzing of his royal Imprint tattoos. They prickled the skin of his arm as they folded and unfolded, charging and priming.
With a grunt of Imprint-fueled force, Cavalon wrenched his arms from the grips of both men. He leapt to his feet and cracked the spoon across the head of one, then grabbed the other and threw him into a rack of dirty trays. Barrow threw another punch.
The Imprint squares slid up Cavalon’s neck as he dodged the strike. With Barrow’s flank exposed, Cavalon pummeled a fist into his ribcage. Winded by the blow, the man gasped, faltering long enough for Cavalon to punt him away with a kick to the stomach. Barrow hit the ground and slid into the gathering crowd.
Cavalon didn’t realize he’d registered the presence of another attacker until he leaned back to dodge the punch. He caught the soldier’s arm mid-strike, twisting to flip the man—nope, woman—onto her back on the ground.
A handful of onlookers rushed to join the fight. Cavalon ducked another punch, turning into a sweeping kick to knock the legs out from under another soldier.
The roar of the crowd escalated until he could no longer hear his own ragged breathing. The taste of copper overwhelmed his senses, and he spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ground, grinning as he ran his tongue over his split lip. After three months confined to quarters on that tiny-ass Mercer Guard ship, he’d almost forgotten how much he missed this.
The Imprint squares whirred up the side of his neck and onto his cheek, solidifying as a fist came out of the commotion and struck him. His shielded skin barely noticed the impact, but another strike came on its heels. The Imprints were still moving into formation when the fist hit him, and pain fired through his jaw.