Arena (13 page)

“Hey, guys. Take it easy on the recruit,” I said. They all glanced back at me with confused looks on their faces, especially Rooke. I grinned. “He likes virtual golf.”

My teammates exploded.

“Virtual golf?”

“Oh, no. Now we'll lose tomorrow night for sure.”

“Should we trade your sword for a five iron?”

They all laughed, and soon, Rooke was laughing with them. Nothing
like a good razzing from your teammates to feel like you're a part of the group. I felt sort of proud in that moment. We were becoming a team again, and, more importantly, we were having fun.

The game started up, and the room filled with sounds of cartoon attacks, explosions, and karate chops.

“What are we going to do next?” Hannah asked, eyes glued on the screen. “Ancient video games?”

Yes, games now had eras. Ancient was anything from the first computer-based games in the 1950s and '60s through to the video game crash of 1983. Classic games were from the release of the original Nintendo Entertainment System in the mid-1980s through to the first at-home VR headsets in the mid twenty-teens. Modern was anything from VR forward, including non-VR games.

On the screen, I watched as four characters battled each other, until Peach went out, then Samus, then Fox. Pikachu was left dancing on the platform, claiming victory.

Lily raised her arms triumphantly.

“Not bad,” Derek said, “for someone who likes Bubble Bobble.”

She punched him in the arm.

“Ow.” Derek turned back to the screen. “That's it. Rematch.”

The next round started up.

I sat back against the couch and let my vision go fuzzy. Besides the media bullshit and torture-based training, life was pretty good. I was on my way to becoming a permanent pro gamer, and the team was gelling over classic video games. This was heaven, almost as much as the virtual world. Almost. But only with a sword in my hand was I truly invincible.

I pushed deeper into the couch and pictured the virtual tower. A soft rustling, like trees in the wind, filled the air around me. I took a breath, breathing in the deep, lavender scent. Stone, wheat stalks, and sand. I was home.

“It's your turn.”

I glanced around the tower, looking for the owner of the voice. Who else was here?

“Kali?”

I blinked and looked up at Hannah standing over me. I was on the couch of the rec room, not inside the tower. My other teammates sat on the floor in front of the TV. I blinked again and rubbed my eyes.

What the hell just happened?

“It's your turn,” Hannah repeated, holding her controller out to me. Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head. “Where were you just now?”

I sat up straight and cleared my throat. “I must have been dreaming.”

“Your eyes were open.”

Huh.

“Daydreaming,” I sputtered. “I meant daydreaming.” I glanced between her and the controller, and pushed it back toward her. “You go ahead. I'll watch another round.”

She grinned. “Well, I'm not going to say no to that.”

She scurried back to the group. I followed the line of my teammates' backs until I met Rooke's eyes. He was the only one still facing me, and he stared like he was trying to look through me.

Derek nudged him. “Hey, choose a character.”

Finally, Rooke turned back to the screen and tapped his controller.

With his back turned, I released a breath. I lifted my hands off the couch and studied them. They were shaking. My stomach swirled. What was wrong with me?

Nothing. I was tired. That was all.

My teammates battled each other until they were too exhausted to hold the controllers. We filtered out of the rec room and down the hall to our bunks. Everyone said their good nights and wished good luck for tomorrow. Inside in my bunk, I stared down at the empty bed though a phantom ghost memory of Nathan filled in the other side, like every night. Forget it. I'd never sleep. Maybe I could go for a run around the track. Never mind. Clarence would be watching. What are you doing, running this late at night? It'll throw off your entire schedule.

In the bathroom, I poked a few pills through the package, popping out them out like pieces of gum. Two. Three. What do they call that? A cocktail? Nah, that's only when you mix. I must have a natural resistance to these things.

I tossed the pills in my mouth and groped around the counter for a glass. Bottles clanged together in my search, which turned up nothing but liquor minis, lotion, and makeup bottles. Whatever. I downed the pills and emptied one of the liquor minis in one swipe. It slid down smooth, barely even burned anymore. Looks like it wasn't just video games I'd become professional at doing.

I wrapped myself in a towel and sat on the bathroom floor, waiting for the drowsiness to grip me before returning to bed. Maybe if I waited until I was tired enough, I'd fall asleep as soon as I hit the pillow and wouldn't even think about a dead Nathan beside me. But before I ever got back up, everything went black.

W
hite light streamed in through the tower's barred windows, splaying sunlight across the stone floor. I stood in the center of the tower, basking in it. The trees outside rustled in the wind. Through the tower's entrance, Lily's feet disappeared up branches to her hiding spot. Rooke paced in front of me, in minimal armor, muscles gleaming in the light. Not that I was looking, or anything.

“You think we're ready?” he asked in a low voice, so the audio wouldn't pick up his words. Last thing we needed was for the world to see another argument between us, or for the press to take something that was said and spin it out of proportion.

I spoke back through my teeth. “We practiced hard and played hard. We had fun. There's nothing more we could do. We're ready.”

He stopped in front of me. “You really believe in having fun, don't you?”

I shrugged. “It's a game, isn't it?”

Footsteps beat up the path to the tower. I gripped my sword and drew it out from its sheath. Rooke mirrored my pose. Two of QuickZero's players burst through the tower's entrance. The ogre clambered in behind them. The formation we were most expecting. Perfect.

Lily jumped down from the trees outside the tower and dove for the seven-foot brute, slicing through his calves with the speed of light. He clomped around, trying to find her as she weaved through his legs. They
looked like a cartoon of an elephant stomping around a mouse as it scurried beneath its feet.

A warrior closed in on me.

His footsteps pounded as he bolted, sword out. I waited, drawing him in, grinning my warrior's grin. His feet pounded faster. That's it. Fuel your rage, my dear. It will do you no good.

He swung as he reached me. I dipped under his arm and elbowed his ribs. He stumbled back, coughing, gripping his side.

He charged again.

Sword met sword as he swung. I followed his blow, flinging his arm to the side, leaving his chest wide open. Big mistake, pal. With two quick spins, I sliced an X across his rib cage. Blood sprayed out, slicking his lower half with red. He cried out and went rigid. Then he collapsed to his knees and fell forward, practically kissing my toes.

I looked to my teammates. Both still battled their opponents less than a foot apart, nearly back-to-back.

I retrieved my opponent's sword from the stone floor and bolted. Just as I reached the brawl, I dropped down, slid between the remaining enemies, and slammed both swords in either's back. They gasped and went rigid. I ripped my weapons out, and they collapsed to the ground.

Rooke and Lily glanced down at the floor and back at me, their mouths slightly agape. That's right. There's a reason why they call me the warrior.

I closed my eyes and smiled, waiting for the jolt back to reality. We'd done it. We were working as a team again. There were kinks, sure, but we were on our way.

“Should two of us move up to the enemy's tower in case Derek and Hannah need help?” Rooke asked.

Sure, whatever.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the lavender and the wheatgrass, and the mountain air in all its perfection.

“Kali?”

An elbow nudged me. Hard.

“What?” I snapped.

Rooke stared back, eyes wide, dressed in his pod suit. He sat beside
me in the conference room, in front of a sea of reporters. I blinked and looked out at the crowd. Shit. How much time had I lost now? Forget that. When had I left the real world for this place?

Okay, press conference. Right. Someone must have asked me something. I pressed my lips to the microphone. “Could you repeat the question please?”

The reporter stared at me for a second and cleared his throat. “For the last few weeks you've been struggling in your matchups, and now tonight, you didn't lose a single player. What do you attribute to your improvements as a team?”

What was I supposed to say? I couldn't mention anything about the books or that we'd been sneaking moments of fun between training.

“We practiced fighting each other in various scenarios,” I said. “It helped us to better know each other's styles, strengths, and weaknesses. Then, we worked together to become stronger. We're really starting to gel as a team.” I grinned. “Which I think you all saw tonight.”

The crowd laughed, and I laughed with them. Good. I'd recovered. As my teammates answered the reporters' questions, I looked down at myself dressed in my pod suit and forced my brain to trudge backwards, sorting through my memories. I was in the tower, then I was here. Nothing between. No. There must have been. I must have left the pod and walked here. Was I on autopilot? I got to the destination but couldn't remember the journey.

When the conference ended, we hit the clubs. The cameras clicked and flashed as I posed with my teammates on the carpet. Saturday was our busiest night. The match had long ended, but the real game had just begun. Look good for the pictures. Promote the sponsors. On display for all to see.

Which world was the true arena?

Rooke stood at my side, lingering so close that accidental touches were as frequent as the camera flashes. All nothing more than featherlight strokes. Still, every one made me tense behind my smile. Sure, he wasn't being a
complete
asshole every spare second anymore. Somewhere between training and classic video games, he'd started to come out of his shell and
become part of the team. But being told to like him was another thing altogether. Heaven forbid I was my own person, with a brain and feelings of my own, being free to like whoever I wanted. But to the camera's eyes, Rooke and I were a hot-blooded, hot-tempered mismatched pair of desire and disaster. Would our fights rip apart the whole team? Or would our love bring out the strengths in each other? Everyone just had to know.

I felt like banging my head on a wall.

“How about a kiss?” someone called out from the crowd.

Head. Wall.

The crowd laughed.

Rooke leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Wanna head inside?”

I spoke back through my teeth. “Yes, please.”

As we headed into the club, a grade-school round of AWWWW came from the crowd, followed by several individual protests.

“No, no. One more shot.”

“Marry me, Lily.”

Rooke led me toward the entrance doors. I walked under his arm, straining against my faltering smile until we disappeared into the club's darkness. Once inside, he dropped his arm and led the way through the club's darkness. I followed close behind and disappeared into the pounding beat, shouldering my way through the throngs of clammy bodies on the dance floor. Green spotlights swirled through the darkness, pouring down from the ceiling like lines of code. Like I was still in the virtual world.

I closed my eyes and basked in the sensations. Bodies writhed against mine, bumping me like a pinball through the crowd. The smell of sweat and alcohol filled the dense, heavy air. No mountain breeze. No lavender or wheatgrass. This would never be the virtual world. No sensation, none of it would ever be real enough.

In the VIP lounge, we sat in our usual spot. Derek waved to the waiter to bring us some drinks. When I glanced to the side, Rooke was gone.

“Where did he go?” I asked, nodding at the empty seat beside me.

“Bathroom,” Derek answered.

I sighed and glanced at the hallway leading to the washrooms. I'd long figured that he wasn't much for partying, but anytime the alcohol appeared,
he did the opposite. Maybe if I broke into the men's room, he'd realize he couldn't hide. Stick-figure signs and pee-pees don't stop Kali Ling.

The waiter came over to our table.

“Loved the fight tonight, guys,” he said as he set the tray down. As usual, a bowl of HP sat in the center. “So did the crowd.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“That new guy is working out well.” His eyes slid over to mine, and he nudged me, like we were best friends. “But I guess you'd know that better than the rest of us.”

My fists tightened under the table. Had everyone seen that damn magazine? I shot him a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Too bad about your other teammate. What was his name?”

“Nathan,” I told him.

“Nathan,” he repeated, and shrugged. “Not sure I even knew his name. Shame how he died. What did I read? A heart defect? Anyways, at least you found a replacement so quickly. You're not out of the tournament, and that's what matters, right?”

My mouth soured, and I hadn't even downed the shot yet. A heart defect? Nathan died of an overdose from drugs he got at this very club. I tapped my foot on the floor, trying to contain my growing anger, and failing. But just behind the waiter, an ad next to the bar caught my eye. Protein Energy Boosters. One of our sponsors. Can't piss off the sponsors. Can't let the media know the truth. Can't ruin the magic façade that is being a virtual warrior.

I stopped tapping my foot and swallowed thick.

“Right,” I said. “That's what matters.”

The waiter left, and Rooke reappeared. He pressed himself into the couch next to me, staring straight ahead. There was a faint tremble in his hands, and his lips were nearly the same color as his skin. He looked like he'd just puked his guts out.

I leaned toward him and lowered my voice, enough that my teammates wouldn't hear, but he still would.

“Are you sick?”

He met my eyes for half a second and looked away.

“I'm fine,” he muttered.

He was not fine. I was team captain, and it was my job to look after my teammates. But for the first time, Rooke and I weren't at each other's throats, and the rest of the team was starting to fall into place. If he could handle whatever was going on with him, maybe it was best if I just left it alone.

Across the club, music from the wallscreen blared, the VGL theme song. Highlights of our fight flashed across it.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Marcus Ryan.”

“And I'm Howie Fulton. And this is
Saturday Night Gaming
.”

More theme music. The camera angle panned, then zoomed in on Howie.

“Let's take a look at the highlights from tonight's RAGE matchups. First up, FoRCE vs. InvictUS.”

InvictUS. The five brutes who'd ripped us a new one two weeks ago.

The screen cut to the opposite team, the new prey for InvictUS. While four remained behind to guard their tower, a lone warrior disappeared into the fields. My stomach sank. You know that sickening sensation you get watching the gazelle run straight for the lion you know is hiding in the grass? But you can't just look away? Yeah, just like it. Guess that's why people watched this so much.

The lone warrior burst through the fields on the other side in front of the enemy's tower. He hesitated and glanced around. Where was InvictUS? From their hiding spots high in the sycamore trees, the foursome jumped down and surrounded him on all sides. His eyes went wide for half a second before his expression transformed into gritty determination. It wouldn't last.

Seconds into the fight, a sword slid through his abdomen, another into his thigh. He screamed. The tip of a blade swiped across his throat. His scream cut to a gurgle as he collapsed to the ground. Dead.

InvictUS raced for the tower.

In front was their leader, old One-Eye, who'd sliced my throat in the Death Match. According to his stats at the bottom of the screen, he had a name. Trent Amos. Didn't sound so much like an archnemesis, but alas, he was mine.

When he'd led his team through the fields and burst through the entrance, the scene inside the tower became a massacre. Wet slurps and screams filled the audio. Limbs dropped to the floor. Swords plunged into flesh until ribbons of blood snaked through the grooves of the tower's stone floor. Within a minute, all four remaining members of the other team were dead. InvictUS walked away from the match untouched. Not a scratch.

Invincible. In the world of gaming, these guys were redefining the word.

The footage cut back to the announcers. Howie shook his head. “Wow. These guys destroyed heavy favorites Defiance in the Death Match, and they just haven't let up since. Where did they come from, Marcus?”

“I don't know about that, but they certainly are the team to watch in this tournament.”

So, guarding the tower with four wouldn't work, and neither did standard format: two defense, two offense, and a lone middleman. Maybe nothing could stand against the powerhouse that was InvictUS.

Warmth blossomed against my leg, where Rooke had let his hand come to rest on my knee. Though he wasn't looking at me. Did he even realize he was touching me, or were we just getting that used to posing with each other for the cameras? I leaned toward him and nodded at the screen.

“They're strong,” I said.

He shook his head. “They're
organized
.”

I considered it. “Yeah. That.
And
they're strong.”

Rooke studied me. A slight grin pulled at his lips. Most men were intimidated by my domineering attitude. Others bowed down and got the hell out of my way. At least this one could handle it. In fact, when his grin broke into a full-out smile, I knew right away. Oh God, he thought I was cute. Warriors aren't cute.

“Hey, Kali.”

I turned and followed the voice to Hannah. She was holding out a hit of HP to me. Sure, I'd dabbled with HP before, but hadn't done it since I'd been named captain. I scooted closer to her and reached for it. Why not?

I snatched the pill from her hand and popped it my mouth. Together, we did a shot and slammed the glasses down, laughing.

I nestled into the couch and watched the dancers on the floor below.
Gradually, the pounding techno beat radiating off the walls slowed and pulsed beneath my skin with minivibrations. Beams of laser light streaming from the ceiling doubled in width and began undulating, like light reflecting off bodies of fish as they swam in and out of sight. I nuzzled farther into the couch, its leather upholstery as soft as seal's fur. The purest air, rich and mountainous, filled my nose and lungs with a single breath. The couch was a cloud, and I was floating in a ball of warmth. I smiled, closed my eyes, and sighed. Everything was soft, and calm, and perfect.