Arena (22 page)

“Is that what Nathan was?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Just a character? We're human beings, for fuck's sake.”

I motioned at the posters around the room, none of which featured our fallen teammate. Clarence's gaze darted about the room, as if acting against his wishes but too curious not to peek.

Clarence rolled his eyes. “Kali, Nathan's gone. Leave him be.”

“No. It takes me longer than two months to forget about somebody.”

“Obviously.”

My fists balled up, and I made no effort to hide them. “Nathan deserves to be remembered.”

“As what? A drug addict?”

“As a person,” I spat. “As an athlete and a gamer. Not someone who
the sponsors can just wash away because it might affect our ratings or popularity.”

“The sponsors run these games. They can do whatever they want. If they don't want the public to know the truth about Nathan, then they never will.”

“Why? Are they afraid that people will find out just how dangerous this sport can really be? No, no. It's fake. We promise. No one really dies. No one ever goes crazy.” I threw my arms up. “Gamers go crazy all the time. And we do die. Nathan died. And it's all because of this ‘sport.'”

“This isn't the reason why I called you in here,” Clarence muttered, waving a hand to dismiss the topic. “Half the media think you two have broken up.”

He motioned toward the wallscreen behind us. I glanced back as it filled with tabloids featuring the news of our apparent split. Oh, this bullshit again. I'd been inside the facility so much, I'd forgotten about the media and how much it was a part of all this.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” I asked. “We weren't even together in the first place.”

“You need to get out there and convince them otherwise.” Clarence pointed a finger out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “I don't care what it takes.”

“What do you want us to do? Have sex in the streets?”

He shrugged. “If necessary.”

Okay, that's it. I knew he was doing it just to get under my skin and to prove he could throw his weight around, but I'd reached my boiling point. I was being completely rational. He wasn't. Now who was the adult?

I imagined nails bolting my feet to the floor to stop from charging him. “We'll be arrested. Is that the kind of media attention you want?”

Clarence stared back blankly and didn't object.

Rooke weighed in on the situation. “I'm not entirely opposed—”

“Shut up,” I snapped, and turned back to Clarence. “You're being ridiculous.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off.

“No. You can shut up, too.”

Silence cut through the room with a heavy dose of tension trailing behind it. Clarence's glare bore into me, and the muscles in his face went tight. At least, tighter than they already appeared. All except for his lips, which had split apart from shock.

Rooke leaned toward me and lowered his voice, though the warning in it was clear. “Kali—”

I held my hand up. “No. I don't care. I don't care if this is what's expected of me. I don't care if I have a contract. Disown me, or fire me. Slander me in the tabloids. I don't care.” I marched up to the desk, leveling Clarence with my gaze. “I don't play because of sponsors or media or anything else. I play because I love the game. And if I have to deal with all this bullshit, then maybe I don't want to do it anymore.”

I smashed my closed fist on the desk, hard enough that I half expected it to crack. Part of me felt like I was throwing a hissy fit, and the other felt like I was finally beginning to stand up for what I believed in.

Clarence slowly lowered himself into his chair and stared up at me, eyes wide, studying me as if he'd never seen me before. As if this were the first time he'd met the warrior outside of the digital world. The doc had the same look in her eyes when I'd burst into her office. I was beginning to like this.

I took a step back, slowly, purposefully, eyes locked on Clarence. Power curled through me, confidence like I'd never felt before. I was a tiger, and the man behind the desk was a little mouse.

Clarence placed his hands on the desk, but judging by the lack of tension in his muscles and the calm look on his face, I took it as a sign of impartiality, not hostility.

“The sponsors and media will always be a part of this, just like any sport,” he said in an even tone. “You can't do away with what you don't like just because you don't like it. How would we fund the tournaments without companies to back it?”

“Companies back themselves,” I argued. “We have to lick their feet just so they can drop us the minute we lose or aren't popular anymore. They don't give a shit about us. All they care about it making more money.”

“You have your beliefs, and that's fine, but that doesn't amend anything. You can't change the world, Kali.”

I didn't know if it was the mood in the air or the confidence still curling through me, but that sounded like one hell of a challenge. And then I knew how. I knew how to throw the sponsors for a loop. I knew how to make them lick my feet instead. How to convince the world Rooke and I were together without leaving the facility. Without the cameras and the red carpet, and all the bullshit. This was my life. My sexuality. I was free to express it how I chose, not the other way around. They'd pushed me too far now, and I was done playing their game.

It was time for them to play mine.

I splayed my hand Clarence's desk, and leaned toward him. “If the media are so convinced we're breaking up, then maybe they should see just how much we've been fighting together. They want a show? Then let's give them one.”

—

By the time Rooke and I had decided on a new plan for the night's matchup, the rest of the team was already in the pod room, suiting up.

“Geez, last minute, huh?” Hannah said, as soon as Rooke and I walked through the doors. “Where have you been? We were getting worried.”

Then she winked at me, obviously thinking Rooke and I had been busy doing something in particular.

Internally, I waved her off since I didn't have time to convince her otherwise. “Sorry, guys, but we need to make a few last-minute changes. Lily, you're going on offense.”

The room cut to instant silence, except for the soft beeping of the machinery, which only emphasized the awkwardness. My teammates, even the programmers, all stared openmouthed and blinking. Mob mentality of the shocked variety.

Lily sputtered. “But I'm always on defense.”

“I know, I know. But the crowd needs to see me and Rooke together. Alone. I want all three of you to take the enemy's tower. No middleman.
Don't kill anyone you don't have to. I want every offensive player on their team to make it through to our tower. Understand?”

“Hang on.” Derek held up a hand. “You want to purposely go up against as many enemies as possible?”

“That's right.”

The trio exchanged glances with each other, then all regarded me with an identical lip-curling, what-the-hell-are-you-thinking expression.

“Trust me,” I said, pulling on my own suit. “Oh, and don't take their tower too fast.”

“Don't take their tower?” Hannah exclaimed.

“No, no. Take it, but slowly.”

“I thought you said a few changes.” Derek tossed his arms up. “You're altering our entire gameplay minutes before the match. The final tournament match.” He leaned toward me with his last words and crossed his arms.

“Look, I know it's tough to stomach, but you guys can handle it. I'm not going to give you one of those corny ‘I believe in you' speeches, but I do. I believe in you guys, and we're not here because winning is what matters most to us. Yes, it's a pretty huge chunk, and it would be fantastic to win the tournament. But bottom line: What we all really love is the game and having fun. We need to fight like we have inside the simulations. This is our chance to prove that training is more important than the media.”

Despite what I thought was a great speech, my teammates still didn't falter from their skeptical attitude. I didn't blame them. Derek was right. I was changing our entire plan right before the last match of the tournament, the final before the championship. I could only ask for one thing.

“Please, guys. You need to trust me.”

Derek looked at Rooke, who leaned casually against one of the pods.

“You're fine with this?” Derek asked, noting his calm demeanor.

“She's never let us down,” he replied. “She's led us to victory ever since she took control of the team, right after Nathan died. Even while she was dealing with all of her own shit. She's stronger than anyone I've ever known, and I don't doubt her.”

I had to clench my jaw to keep it from dropping open. Rooke thought I was strong? Even after the pills and everything else? But hell, there was some truth in his words. I'd pushed through the tournament and led the team all while dealing with my own issues. How come I never realized that myself?

Rooke stared at Derek until his gaze flicked to mine, dead-set serious. He wasn't just saying it to convince the team. He meant it. Every word.

Derek shifted his weight and glanced back at the girls. They traded looks with each other before he spoke for them.

“All right, Kali. You got it.”

We dispersed from the center of the room, each going to our own pods. I nodded at Elise, sitting at the workstation, before climbing in. When the doors closed, I was immersed in a grayish darkness. I took a deep breath and focused, grounding myself in the real. Sterile air filled my nose. Excitement and determination flooded my veins from head to toe, until I felt like dancing inside the pod. The pod's shimmering innards pulsed with iridescent energy as the wires began their slow, ticklish crawl over my skin. I exhaled, lay back, and closed my eyes.

Time to kick ass.

T
he virtual world was different now.

Standing inside the tower, with the wind whispering in my ear, I felt both close and distant from this place. The familiar scents of lavender and mountain air brushed against my nose, and the taste of wheatgrass danced across my tongue, sensations I'd long associated with being in my true element, with being home. Now, it was something else. Merely a place to showcase my talents. As glorious as it was, there was something to be had in the real world, too. Behind the towers' stone walls, even the lavender and the wheatgrass and the mountain air, was programming. It was code. Nothing more.

Since I'd started playing these games, I'd always viewed the virtual and the real as two separate entities. The sun-soaked baths of this world against the dreary grays of the real. Organic versus synthetic. But now, they were two parts of a whole. The virtual world couldn't exist without reality, and with virtual programming permeating so many aspects of society, it seemed the real couldn't exist without a little fantasy. What's life without make-believe? But I'd spent too much time in the fantasy. Now, it was time to value the real and everything it had to offer.

The rhythmic beating of my teammates' footsteps echoed down the dirt path and faded into the distance, leaving behind a heavy silence. Streams of sunlight broke through the barred windows high in the tower's
walls, cut off by the beams overhead, splicing the sun's rays into fractured spotlights on the floor. The wind danced along my skin and rustled my hair. Despite being inside the game, the voices of the announcers filled my head.

Losers' bracket finals tonight. The winners go on to the championship round.

I balanced on the balls of my feet, waiting, muscles tense and relaxed at the same time. The sword gripped in my hand was a part of me now, an extension of my limb. My heart beat soundly in my chest. I was ready. I closed my eyes and took a breath. Everything was still. Peaceful. Inside and out.

A peace broken by Rooke's constant pacing.

His shuffling feet scraped against the tower's stone floor as he crossed over the same invisible line again and again. Why was he so anxious?

Rooke stopped in front of me.

“You nervous?” he asked in a murmur, so the cameras wouldn't pick up the audio.

I drew a deep breath and slowly pushed it out. “No. I'm ready.”

Footsteps echoed up the path.

“They're coming,” I told him.

The enemy burst through the tower's entrance. Three of them, all men. Not bad, but not as many as I'd hoped.

We went back-to-back in the center of the tower. I breathed, calm and steady. The trio surrounded us, two positioned in front of me while the other baited Rooke. A grin touched my lips.

Let's dance, boys.

They attacked, and not without skill.

Metal clanged against metal as our swords met. Sweat beaded along my hairline as I swirled and ducked against two enemies at once. Rooke and I fought with our backs glued together. The muscles in his back moved in correspondence with mine. Like magnets. I leaned forward, and he bowed back. One warrior with four arms. Three hundred and sixty degrees of death. Zero blind spots. No weaknesses.

A scream cut through the air behind me, and I knew Rooke had nailed his opponent. A body collapsed on the tower's stone floor.

The heat from Rooke's back left mine as he circled around to fight at my side. A few short blasts against his new opponent, and he jabbed his sword straight through his heart.

Our remaining opponent charged straight for me, weapon drawn back. I caught his swing as he brought it down and redirected him to the side.

Rooke rammed into him, full speed. He tumbled back, rolling several feet away. Rooke followed through, taking a few steps ahead. What the hell was he doing? Protecting me? I was going to rip him a new one. If this wasn't the finals match, I would have taken him out myself.

He glanced back at me, winked, and knelt on one knee, back facing me.

My breath caught in my throat. There was ten feet between Rooke and me, and another ten beyond him to our opponent. I'd seen this before.

The simulation in the gladiatorial arena.

Time to fly.

I bolted just as our opponent stumbled to his feet.

My feet swept across the ground and up Rooke's back. As I reached his shoulders, he stood and held his palms up. My feet landed in his hands, and he catapulted me into the air.

I flew.

Time slowed, as if I could actually feel the broadcasting switch to slow motion. Sword reeled back, single knee bent, I was a Valkyrie. An angel of death.

I slammed into my opponent, driving him to the ground and my sword up and into his chest cavity until the very tip broke through his mouth and pierced his tongue. His eyes went wide and never moved again.

That.

Was.

Awesome.

I stood tall. There was no crowd here. No glorious applause. I didn't need it. It pumped in every cell, through every vein.

There was no sudden jolt back to reality. No signal overhead. My
teammates really were drawing out the fight, showing off every aspect of their skills. They had followed my command.

We had time.

Rooke turned to me, scowling.

“Nice going, Ling,” he spat. “I nearly had to handle that myself. You could at least show up next time.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I immediately snapped back, as if the conversation was planned. “I had two of them on me.”

“Oh, please. You only survived because I stepped in and saved you.”

I reeled.

“Saved me?” I shouted. “I could've handled both of them blindfolded. You're just pissed I showed you up.”

“Showed me up? You're too full of yourself to see—”

“
Me
too full of myself? Try looking in the mirror—”

Our voices started overlapping each other, both shouting at the top of our lungs as the argument spilled into a full-blown fight. All in front of the cameras. Darn. What a shame.

I stepped closer. “—You're such a pompous, haughty jackass, I'd rather have a five-year-old on my team—”

He stepped closer. “—You're so frustratingly independent, I'm surprised you even know how to lead anybody—”

“—What? You acted like you were too good to be on a team the second you showed up—”

Another step.

“—Oh yeah? You act like the virtual world should bow to you—”

Another step.

“—You're so fucking arrogant—”

Closer.

“—You're so damn stubborn—”

Closer.

Then, as the gap between us disappeared, our armor clanked together, and our voices grew until they echoed off the tower walls, he kissed me.

His lips were just as soft as I remembered, when I'd first kissed him in my bunk and he never responded. Now, he held nothing back. His
mouth met mine, again and again, every kiss full of wet heat and little nips that sent jolts of adrenaline through every vein.

He pulled away just as quickly.

I stared at him, blinking. His expression mirrored my own, completely stunned, with his mouth slightly agape. The kiss had been planned. The argument had been planned. But that incredible spark of electricity? Soooo not on the checklist.

The kiss left behind a tingling on my lips, and I almost cried out when he stopped. But he stayed close, keeping me wrapped in his arms, as he studied my face. I studied his. The soft curves of his lips. The stubble dotting his jaw. The warmth lingering from his touch, where his hands now rested on my waist. In that moment, I wanted him. I wanted him and nothing else. Judging by the need in his eyes, he felt the same.

I pressed my body against his, and captured his mouth with my own. He tasted like an autumn night. Dark, woody, and sweet. Weapons dropped to the ground, thudding against the dirt. His hands grasped my chin, his skin rough and blistered from wielding swords and staffs. A warrior's hands. They slid into my hair and clamped down, forcing my chin up. I gasped. He chuckled against my mouth, and when he kissed me again, his tongue brushed mine.

Holy camoly. I swear I had knees just a second ago.

Warmth sweltered inside the tower, swirling around us. But nothing compared to the heat pounding inside me. His lips covered mine, again and again. A hand pressed into the small of my back and drove me up against him. Armor plates clanked together. I wrapped my limbs around him, intertwining my body with his. Where skin met skin between the breaks, heat sparked and sizzled until we were melting into each other. In that moment, we were one.

Until a jolt of reality tore us apart.