Strikeforce (26 page)

54

This is it.

I head down the Level Five corridor on my way to the training facility, fingers balled at my sides.

There are marks all over the walls here—scratches and pulverized craters of metal where Matigo first attacked after revealing himself. I'm sure Alkine will order them fixed once everything else has settled down. For now, they're a reminder of what I've overcome—what I've
survived
.

During my first training year at the Academy, I'd have never imagined living through so much. I'd have fainted at the first sight of trouble—tripped and gotten myself killed. It seems a lifetime ago.

I stop outside the doors to the training room, hesitating for just a moment before pressing the button and watching them spread open in front of me.

The last time I played a round of Bunker Ball, I ended up unconscious. Eva of all people had to help me up from the ground—
save
me, practically.

I can't help but chuckle at the thought of it. No wonder she considered me a wimp back then. I had no self-confidence, no drive to do anything but avoid challenges. The very thought of something outside of my comfort zone made me queasy. I laughed it off, deflected every bit of doubt by telling myself that it was the world that was fighting me, not the other way around.

Cassius would have never done that.
I'm
not going to do that now.

I step through the door onto the Bunker Ball field. It's laid out the same way it was the last time I played the game, before I knew anything about my powers or destiny.

The metal floor gives way to sand. I stand in the middle of a battlefield of dunes and portions of brick wall, which jut from the floor like teeth. Boulders form plenty of hiding places around me, but I'm not planning on hiding this time.

I never knew what my body was capable of until now. It's like all the potential was there, but I'd placed a block on it. My brain had literally handicapped me. The constant doubt and fear crippled my chances of being what I'd always wanted to be.

I walk up a lengthy dune and meet the others in the center of the field.

Avery, Eva, and Skandar stand there, decked out in full Bunker Ball mode. Straps filled with detonators wrap around them like sashes. It's three against one.

Just the way I like it.

Eva smiles as soon as she sees me. “The field looks smaller, doesn't it, Fisher?”

I nod. She's right. After fighting in the Fringes, there's really no comparing. Everything, from the sand dunes meant to slow us down, to the detonators with their dull sting upon exploding, seems like a child's game.

Avery's brows rise. “You really think you can take all three of us at once?”

I smile. “I could take on five more, if you're interested.”

Skandar laughs. “Whoa, mate. You sure this is you talking?”

I grab a detonator from my belt, taking a step back. “What's all this waiting around, anyway? I'm ready to kick some butt.”

Eva crosses her arms. “I'm sure I don't have to remind you not to hesitate.”

I toss the detonator in the air and catch it. “The days of hesitation are long gone, Rodriguez.”

“That's a challenge if I've ever heard one.” She smirks.

Avery takes a deep breath. “Just promise me one thing, Fisher. Now that you're a … a … ”

“Warrior?” Eva interrupts.

“Sure,” Avery says. “Now that you're a warrior, don't lose that kid I fell in love with in the first place.”

I meet her eyes. I've realized these past few days that she's my anchor. She's the true, devoted place that Cassius never had. Maybe that was
his
block.

I nod.

“Okay, then.” She laughs. “Let's get this over with. I'm starving.”

I watch her sprint away, probably to hide before attacking.

Eva moves to join her. I grab her arm. “Don't hold back,” I say. “You too, Skandar. Come at me with all you've got. We … I mean,
I
… can take it.”

Eva nods, teeth grit. “Thirty seconds and the game begins. You better go find a rock to cower behind.”

With that, they're both off. I stand alone for a moment, strategizing. I'm not worried about the clock. Not concerned with when they'll come at me or how fast. I draft numerous attacks in my head. Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, D, E, F … all the way down the line. I've never thought like this before, never even used this part of my brain. It's liberating.

No matter how they choose to do it, I'll do it better. I know this in my gut. I'm unstoppable.

When I'm ready, I turn, offering my back to them. With ten seconds left, I sprint down the sand dune, jumping on top of the nearest boulder with a full view of the field. I'm unprotected. It's a leap of faith, standing here in the open.

The warning chimes begin to sound. Five seconds. Three.

I take a deep breath and center myself. My arm shakes with anxious energy. I can't wait to let loose. It's like a bridle's been stuck around my body and I'm about to tear it off. It's uncomfortable. I need to move. I need to fight.

The alarm goes off, signaling the start of the game. My fingers tense as I grab a detonator from my belt. It warms with the touch of my skin. The metal feels powerful, gripped tightly in my hand.

I barely have to think. They come at me, all at once.

I attack.

About the Author

When he was a young boy, Nick James's collection of battle-scarred action figures became the characters in epic story­lines with cliffhangers, double crosses, and an unending supply of imaginary explosions. Not much has changed. The toys are gone (most of them), but the love of fast-paced storytelling remains. Working in schools from Washington State to England, Nick has met thousands of diverse students since graduating from Western Washington University and braving the most dangerous job in the world: substitute teaching. Luckily, being dubbed the “rock star teacher” has granted him some immunity. He currently lives and teaches in Bellingham, Washington.