Barcode: Legend of Apollo (23 page)

“He fought Apes?”

“Of course. We all did. Shoot. I fought one a few weeks before I returned. He put up a hell of a fight before I killed him. Had a mighty powerful mask and decent tats.”

“So why won’t he allow us to fight them?”

“I don’t know. Probably has something to do with killing his best friend or something.”

“What?”

“Yeah. When we were fifteen, his powers started going berserk. He was always strong, but one day he was sparring with his best friend in an arena match. They were always rivals, but got along nicely. Your father was making fun of him for being an Ape and all, but the Ape took it too seriously and tried to hurt him. While countering a strong attack, he hit the Ape a bit too hard in the head, and killed him. Didn’t know his own strength.”

“Whoa. I’ve never heard him mention that story.”

“Why would he?”

“I guess you’re right.” I think for a moment about what might happen if I fought Kode. “Do a lot of Apes die at other schools?”

“For fighting gods? Of course, but that’s what happens when you’re a gladiator. You die.”

“Do you know any strong Apes, maybe like Kode?”

“I told you to not worry about them,” he rages. Before storming off the battlefield, he mumbles, “All the warriors in the land, and I brought those two. I regret it everyday. Why’d I listen to that girl? Daddy we need them. Daddy please bring them. Demonic brats.”

As I return to Angie, she runs circles around a chair and claps merrily. Her hands wave as she shakes with excitement. Angie begins rambling about how she loved touring people in New Orleans, though she often got lost. They’d find themselves on an adventure in the city, learning new places and trying exotic foods. Though I should probably listen, my mind can only focus on one thing.

In the middle of one of her important sounding sentences I blurt, “You like Monte?”

I’ve only seen Angie angry once, and that was when Kode was holding on tightly to my neck. But the expression I see boiling on her face now could possibly top that.

“What?” she rages with a force that reminds me of the pressure inside of Professor Gonzales’ room.

“Vincent said you were adamant about getting them here so that can only mean one thing. You like Monte.” Angie swiftly closes the gap between us. Scary.

“I don’t like Monte so get that through your head right now.”

“Then, why did you want them here so badly?”

“They’re the strongest in the South.”

“Yeah right. Don’t feed me garbage when you’re too embarrassed to admit your feelings.”

“Shut up. I don’t like him. They’re both really nice, but I don’t like either of them.”

“Nice? You don’t know Kode.”

Again, I see another side of Angie that I haven’t before. This one hides something more mysterious, eerie, but mystical.

She frowns and speaks so maturely that I’d swear she wasn’t my cousin. “You don’t know us. You’ve never been to New Orleans, but for some quick visit where daddy showers you with gifts. You don’t know how we train or the wars we’ve fought. You’ve never lived in a hut after a storm and felt the water at your ankles while you make the breakfast you just killed.

“That’s how we trained while our parents worked in their mansions. We lived with the people we fought for all over the world. You live in some luxury where you’re waited on hand and foot.” Subtly shaking her head and turning away from me with a look of disgust, she says, “You don’t know the world except for what you watch online. So don’t judge us.”

For the first time, I look closely enough to see a scar on the side of her neck, mostly hidden by her scarf. It stretches down into her armor. There’s a story behind that and I doubt she wants to tell me.

“Sorry cousin. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

She nods her head, still fuming over her own words. After a few seconds, she forgives me by throwing her arms tightly around my neck.

The helicopter containing the parents approaches the school.

Twenty Four

The opening ceremony went a lot faster than I expected. Dennis gave a speech to the parents about the significance of our school, emphasizing the importance of donors. After the ceremony, Angie and I were designated to walk the groups through a quick tour, which ended back at the area where they returned to their seats.

Colt Arena’s seating is divided into four sections. First, no stadium would be complete without the nosebleed seats. Since sitting in the heavens means you can hardly see the ants fighting, a spherical hologram projector displays close-ups of the fights with such clarity it nearly mimics the actual battle. I find myself occasionally watching the sphere, even in the front row.

Between the nosebleeds and the regular seating are box seats for military personnel and the extremely wealthy.

Then there are front row seats.

For the Parent’s Month celebration, Dennis has reserved an entire section. There are actual cushions and armrests in this area. Sitting here feels more like watching a movie in a theater, but I can feel the dirt in my eyes and the warmth from explosions when I’m this close.

Before we sit down, Blake and Eve Payne push their way to the front in order to sit next to Angie and I. I assumed they wanted to get closer to my cousin, but judging from the way Eve stares at me, they seem to have a different plan in mind.

Eve, a woman about the same height and build as my Uncle Vincent, is the first to speak to me, “You must be Apollo. That makes you Spencer.”

It’s difficult not to notice the large tattoo on her breasts, as they are exposed in the most inappropriate way. Eve is one of the few goddesses that I’ve met whose tattoos contain colors before being activated. The design resembles the feathers on a peacock. Each brightly colored round spot makes me feel as though I’d turn into stone by staring into them. It occurs to me that the woman with Hera’s jealous power was once rumored to be Medusa.

Eve’s forced smile makes me uncomfortable, and her rigid posture only adds to that effect. She is a fighter—a fearsome one. I wouldn’t go to war against her, even with an entire army on my side. Her gaze makes me feel as though I might need an army right now.

“That’s me,” I sputter after staring at the manly woman for what I’m sure has been an uncomfortable amount of time. I’ve managed to make the situation awkward for the both of us.

“It’s such an honor to meet you. Monte talks about you all the time.”

I raise my eyebrow, curious as to what he could say that would make her want to meet me. Monte and I don’t interact much; when we do, we hardly get along. We’d nearly taken each other’s heads off three weeks earlier during an argument stemming from who got to use the pipette in science class. It took two professors to pull us off each other.

Blake clears his throat, which sounds like a gun firing. “We don’t mean it in a good way. He’s an extremely competitive…” he glances at Eve, “…spoiled brat. He looks at you as a rival, which is only natural I suppose.”

Blake is a massive dark skinned man. He’s wearing all black armor, the largest I’ve ever seen. He looks like my prestigious family members displayed in in our school hallways.

His tattoo’s a bit easier to examine discreetly because it’s directly over his right eye. It looks like someone slashed him with a sword and a barcode formed. The color in his pupils are just as black as the tattoo.

“Yeah. We’re competitive, but what’s natural about that?”

“Your father and I were rivals,” he replies casually.

Eve wiggles her way into the conversation, “There’s a long history. Blake’s father created an arena practically in his back yard, with nothing more than family members. They called it
The Gym
. Blake was very popular at the time. Even in grade school, he was such a frightening warrior. One of the only arenas willing to pit their gladiators against the Payne Gym was the Colt Arena. Blake and your father had many epic battles that,” Eve sounds annoyed at this point, “mostly ended in ties.”

Blake clears his throat, “Mostly, except for two. I only lost the second match against your father, though he was nearly beaten to death. After we fought eleven or twelve more—”

“Fourteen,” Eve interrupts, “I don’t know why the story changes every time you tell it.”

Rolling his eyes, he continues, “After eleven or twelve fights, I’d finally beaten him. But he wasn’t the same. He was upset and wild. It never felt like I won. I wanted to redeem myself and have a real match, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

“What happened?”

“Supposedly he was upset about killing someone close to him earlier that week. I didn’t find this out myself until our family fled to Louisiana. For twenty years, I’ve tried to convince him to come down and fight with me, but he wants to set an example for the school and the ranking system.”

“It’s stupid if you ask me.”

Blake takes his time before responding to my remark, “I might disagree. I haven’t met many demigods that could stand against your father’s power. I understand his choice.”

“I think it’s stupid, too.” Eve nearly trips over her own words, obviously trying to flatter me. “Anyway, I bet you are just as strong as your father.”

“You knew him too?”

Eve bats her eyelashes and covers her mouth, a feminine gesture that doesn’t fit her rough exterior, “We dated once upon a time, but because I trained at The Gym, I was banned as well.”

On the opposite shoulder from where the Payne’s sit, I suddenly feel a weight. Underneath my bandages, my barcodes activate automatically. I can hear Blake’s voice, but his lips aren’t moving:
Let him take you back.

I’m not sure what’s happening, but there’s a chance my barcode’s ability has improved. I have a phone application that allows me to analyze my tattoo. For the most part, it can tell me why I’m hearing someone else’s thoughts.

Opening my phone, I quickly access DataOb 3.0. This application was developed by a company headed by two owl liminal beings. The program allows the user to scan his barcode to better understand his abilities. Unlike previous versions where the phone needed direct contact with a tattoo, the newest one scans data through fingerprints.

I smack my thumb on the screen and forward the results to Michelle. I don’t want to read the information with Eve hovering over my shoulder. I’m thankful for the moments it takes to complete the task. Eve does not feel obligated to share any of the gruesome details between her and my father.

Luckily, just a second after I notice her getting antsy, a vaguely familiar voice shouts over the loudspeaker.

Tilting my head up, I wait for the hologram to activate in order to confirm my suspicion. I laugh in disgust when I see the announcer’s face. The overachiever, Patrick, welcomes the parents to the first gladiator match of the year.

Patrick announces the challengers, Yang Arena. I feel lucky that it’s a school day, or Gi Young would have broken into the his booth to shout over the loudspeakers and track me down. It’s happened before. The girl won’t give up.

“Welcome Colt Arena fans from Griffith Park, China Town, our online spectators, and parents of the academy’s finest. I’m your student emcee, Patrick Gibson.” The crowd erupts in cheers that match his booming voice. “Today’s what we like to call the “pre-season” for you gladiator noobs. We have several matches lined up today, including the man-eater, Arnold Miyamoto!”

Patrick pauses to give the people enough time to cheer for their hero.

“But before we get to the beefy matches, we’ll begin with four of last year’s top mortal level graduates and one late bloomer in an open sparring session.” The visitors from Yang Arena cry and throw cups onto the field.

Colt Arena is successful at keeping their Apes alive because they gain a multitude of experience on the battlefield before participating in death matches. Even after graduation, Apes must fight in twenty battles with non-lethal weapons. Most arenas don’t agree to non-death matches because the fans hate it. Therefore, our warriors fight one another while dodging cups and hearing boos from the visitors.

I find the matches entertaining. Their protective armor’s amusing and often explosive. Unlike the god level matches, Apes have weapons built into their suits. Some of the gear should be considered machinery because of their advanced technology and robotic nature. Many Apes sensibly invest in the most outrageous equipment in order to protect their lives.

The five warriors sparring on the battlefield are wearing a wide variety of colors and sizes. One guy has a suit with rotating automatic machine guns at the end. He clearly didn’t attend Colt Academy.

Firearms are great for long distance team matches, but worthless in free-for-all or one-on-one bouts. Most suits are advanced enough to show the projectile’s path. With the gravity-rejecting technology in Moreno boots, opponents could close gaps within a matter of seconds.

My first experience with the technology came from my race with Leo. The force opposes gravity the same way most suits break or soften a fall. Attaching this science to boots increases the energy in a kick, pushing the user further and faster than their normal shoes.

Everyone on the field must have these type of boots, because within seconds two Colt Arena graduates chop off the new guy’s weapons. With nothing left to defend himself, he surrenders.

All fighters in the match are pretty average except for one gladiator, Mystery. Patrick complains about not having statistics or even a real name for him. He shouts, “Why don’t I have stats on this guy? Mortal level bouts are important too, you know?”

Mystery takes out each opponent in under a minute. He leaves last year’s track star, Lila Kumar bleeding out of her suit. “Oh! Mystery used Lila’s momentum against her and smacked her right in the face as she swung that heavy mallet. Someone call a medic because that blood is just nasty.”

The tight and white jumpsuit Lila wore was pretty impressive, but nothing compared to Mystery’s outer space-like red, white, and blue gear. Instead of the gravity rejecting boots, he had jets on his feet and steel wings on his back. Patrick compares it to, the finest Moreno he’d ever seen.