Arena (30 page)

B
alance. It had been the key to everything. My salvation. My sanity. Even the game. But I didn't realize just how much until that moment.

Inside the tower, high above everything else, I sat balanced with my teammates on the support beams, completely hidden from view. Several feet below, the tower's stone floor sat cold and empty. Wind curled in from the entrance, sweeping up bits of dust and gravel. The debris kicked and skidded across the stones, then went still. Dead still. I had to wonder. Would the cameras even see us up here? Of course. They could see anywhere inside the virtual world. The audience would know right where we were.

InvictUS wouldn't.

Single file on the beam, we sat the way we'd practiced. First Lily, then Derek, followed by Hannah, Rooke, and myself. Though it had nothing to do with appearances and everything to do with tactics. I looked down the line at my teammates. Hannah had her eyes closed, though whether it was due to the height or concentration, I wasn't sure. Everyone else balanced on the beam, calm and nervous at the same time, deep breaths coupled with fluttering fingertips. That same terrified-but-tranquil combination swirled through my own stomach. I took a breath and released it.

“They're coming,” Hannah announced in a hushed whisper, eyes still closed.

Footsteps pounded up the path to our tower, heavy footsteps with the sharp clangs of armor knocking together as they ran. I peered over the edge to watch. In their standard form, four members of InvictUS burst through the tower's entrance and ground to a halt when they were greeted by nothing more than an empty tower. They'd expected to find all of us here since they hadn't crossed anyone in the fields. And we were. They just had no idea where.

Grunts and sounds of confusion echoed off the tower's walls.

“What the hell?” one of them shouted. “Where are they?”

“Did they go for our tower? Maybe they're already there.”

“No way. We would have seen them.”

“There has to be at least one of them here.”

They scurried around the tower, glancing out the entranceway and in every other direction. One of them ventured outside and circled the perimeter of the tower. They all looked like little ants. Just like when I'd perch on the roof of the facility, InvictUS looked as if they could be crushed by my thumb. Not so undefeatable now.

Still balancing perfectly on the beam, I signaled to Lily at the other end. She caught my eyes. I held up one finger, then made a chopping motion with my arm. She nodded. She pulled an axe from its sheath at her waist, slowly drawing it out into her grasp.

It slipped.

The axe tumbled through the air, descending straight for the ground. InvictUS was about to find out where we were. So much for the element of surprise.

With one leg wrapped around the beam, Lily flipped around the pole and snatched the axe back midair. With the momentum of the flip, she brought herself back up and rested upright, axe gripped in hand, a grin pulling at her lips.

Never underestimate a blonde in pigtails. Never.

A silent breath of relief echoed through us all. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, but it failed to calm the heart thudding in my chest.

Lily held the axe up next to her head and made a chopping motion as she aimed. The beam squeaked under her movements, whining in protest.
My thudding heart went in my throat. I glanced down at our opponents, but the pattering of their feet and constant swearing covered the sound.

Lily aimed, once, twice, and released.

The whooshing sound of her axe whizzed through the air, like the chopping sound of a helicopter's blades. It tomahawked straight for one of InvictUS. He heard the sound and glanced up.

“What the—”

It nailed him in the head, splitting it open from cranium to nose. He collapsed instantly to the ground.

I signaled to my teammates. Jump.

Three.

Two.

One.

We leapt and landed in perfect unison on the tower floor, a wall of soldiers and death. Short framing the tall. Dark mixing with light. Men between the women. Now we looked like a team.

A real team.

Image isn't everything. But it helps.

The three remaining members of InvictUS stared wide-eyed, then exchanged looks with each other. Their shocked expressions morphed into grimaces, and they charged for us. We held our ground, bringing them to us.

At the last possible second, all three girls, myself included, dropped to the ground, tucked and rolled. Perfect unison. We slid through the gaps between the trio of InvictUS and came up to our knees as they passed, slicing through the air for anything that resembled flesh. Hannah's axe landed home, cutting right through her target's leg. He screamed and dropped to his knees. The three of us pounced on him, ripping into neck and chest. In half a second, his eyes glazed over with the look of death.

We sprang to our feet as Derek and Rooke wrangled with the remaining two attackers. Five-on-two and surrounded on all sides. They went back-to-back, for what good it would do them. We moved forward and back, sometimes in pairs or threes. Like rippling waves of an ocean, crashing into the enemy with a steady pulse from all angles. Swords clanged together. Metal clanking metal became its own symphony.

I stood between Rooke and Hannah as we battled the duo. Dropping to one knee, I swung for one's calf. He swung down to block me, leaving his upper half unguarded. Rooke landed a solid swipe through his neck. Blood gushed out of the gaping wound. He fell to his knees, clawing at his own neck. We drove our swords into his chest. He seized, then collapsed to the ground.

I stole a glance at Rooke. He grinned back.

One more to go.

The five of us circled him. He spun every way, trying to keep an eye on each of us. Sweat poured down his face, his gaze darting about. Finally, InvictUS knew what it was like to be prey. But unlike them, we wouldn't make him suffer.

Derek retrieved Lily's axe from our first victim's head and hurled it at him. It sunk into the back of his skull. He gasped, dropped to his knees, and fell face forward onto the tower floor, his final breath whooshing out of his lungs. Then it went silent.

Dead. All of them.

That was it. We'd done it. We'd broken through the impenetrable force that was InvictUS. Now, there was a new invincible team on the block.

Defiance.

I could just hear the announcers right now.

What a show. Underdogs Defiance just owned it like nobody's business. In all the years of virtual gaming, we've never seen anything like this.

Excitement exploded within until I shook, until I thought I'd go insane from the energy rushing through me. I fought the urge to scream. To jump up and down. The match wasn't over yet. Somehow, on the outside, I remained cool and collected, despite my dancing innards. I nodded at my teammates.

“You guys go. Take out the last member of InvictUS and capture their tower. I'll stay here and hold ours.”

They exchanged glances with each other. Hannah stepped forward.

“No way, you have to go.” She pointed out the entrance, where InvictUS's tower loomed in the background. “That's your fight.”

I shook my head. “Really, it's—”

“Kali, you led us here,” she said. “We're about to win, and it's because of you.”

She laced her fingers through mine and squeezed.

“Go.”

Before she released my hand, she leaned in close and whispered a word that echoed in my mind.

“Champions.”

My stomach rippled. No. Not yet.

One kill to go.

Fortitude swelled up inside and solidified. In the moment, I felt strong. But taking on the remaining member of InvictUS by myself? Studying the determined expressions on my teammates' faces, they believed in me. Maybe it was time I did the same thing myself.

I headed for the tower's exit but paused at the door and looked back at Rooke. Our eyes locked. He nodded for me to go. That wasn't what I wanted. The last fight was mine, and mine alone. But I wanted my partner in crime there to witness the glory.

Victory. I could taste it on my tongue.

Derek clued him in and pushed him forward. “Go with your woman, man. Geez.”

Rooke joined me, and together we raced through the fields. Fields that seemed to stretch on forever as they whipped around me, brushing my face and clipping at my heels. A sandpaper whisper filled the air. Like Lily, I seldom went on offense and took the moment to appreciate the sensations of the virtual world, of the mountain air pumping through my lungs, and the scent of lavender caressing my nose. But it dulled in comparison to the rubber smell of the training room or the plastic covering every inch. Even the antibacterial stench of the facility. Because they were real.

I broke through the fields' edge, followed closely by Rooke. Together, we drove up the dirt path, dodging the rocky terrain wrapped around the tower. This was it. The end of the end. Adrenaline pumped in my legs, propelling me toward the enemy's fortress. I'd led my team here. I'd led myself here. The soaring stone walls of the turret that seemed to touch the sky grew a little shorter just then. I could do this. Nothing could stop me now. But when I burst through the entranceway, I skidded to a halt.

Trent Amos stood in the center of the tower.

T
he final fight. It all came down to this.

Dressed in minimal armor and wielding a single longsword, Trent Amos belonged on the cover of a gamer magazine. Somehow, he looked even bigger than the last time we'd fought together. With shoulders nearly three times my width and muscles gleaming in the sunlight, he was a tank, a powerhouse of strength. The perfect gladiator.

And he was all mine.

Funny how life likes to bring things full circle, isn't it?

I should have known it would be him before I even entered the tower. He hadn't been with the four that attacked, so I should have done the math. But the fear, anticipation, and adrenaline had clouded my brain so much, I hadn't realized this would be the final fight until he was standing right in front of me.

His eyes went wide. How could we have possibly made it through his horde of brutes? Then his features softened, and he chuckled, bold and confident. He had no idea he was alone. Because of our handicap as the losing team, it didn't matter either. He could still take the game all by himself. All he had to do was take me out.

He waved me forward. I approached, slowly, sword gripped tight in my hand. Rooke remained behind to block the entrance. He knew. He knew this was my fight. And he knew to stay the hell out of my way.

We met in the middle and began circling. I stayed out of reach, waiting for him to come to me. He sized me up, still chuckling. I mirrored every step he took. It became a waltz, one where we didn't touch. I counted my breaths. Calm. Even. A breeze snuck in through the tower's entrance. The wind rippled through my hair, and I knew it was there with me.

As we circled, Trent lashed out at me a few times, trying to draw me in. I ignored his feints, perfectly focused, sword gripped in hand. I was a poster child for the Chinese warrior.

No. The Chinese-American warrior. A perfect blend. Both sides as one.

Trent drew back his sword and lunged forward. I moved with him, spinning and ducking. He slashed through the air until our weapons finally met. His strength reverberated down the sword into my hands, somehow even stronger than the last time I'd faced off against him. Guess InvictUS had been practicing, too. I focused, and told myself the same things I'd told Hannah. Be like the wind. Strong but flexible.

He came at me again and again. Every time I parried him to the side, he immediately spun back for another blow. He knew my fighting style now. He knew to move like water and earth whenever he struck. He had no blind spots. No skin exposed.

Reverberations rippled down my arms. A dull ache gripped my muscles. Seconds into the fight, and I was already waning. I couldn't win. I'd never defeat his strength. My throat clenched. My chest tightened. Every muscle seized.

No. Focus. You can do this.

His sword slashed my arm. My weapon-wielding arm. I grimaced, grinding my teeth to stifle a whimper. Blood dribbled out and dripped on the tower floor.

I caught a glimpse of Rooke still in the entranceway. He gripped his swords tight and paced behind me, jaw clenched. Hell, every muscle was clenched. He was primed to jump into the fight, ready to take out Trent before he took me out. But for now, he remained in the tower's doorway, pacing.

Blood bubbled out of my wound as weakness took hold from shoulder
to fingertip. Sweat pooled around my neck. My breaths came out in pants. I trembled.

Trent swung hard, and I blocked just in time, my arm feeling both numb and like it weighed a thousand pounds. Our weapons met again, and we locked up. He pushed down into his sword. My feet slid back a foot across the floor. Oh, shit. My knees buckled before I clamped down on them and forced myself to stay on my feet.

Rooke took a step closer.

No. I could do this.

I grunted and strained against Trent, pushing until my arms shook. The edges of my vision blurred. The pain in my arm flared, and only my gritting teeth stifled my yelp. Trent leaned into me, pressing down with his weight. The metal from our swords screeched together under the pressure. Hot pain seared through my arm, and my knees bent again. Then, numbness spread through my arm to my entire body. A sickening sensation curled through my stomach. Something was wrong. How was I both numb and in pain?

Because it wasn't real.

This tower. My opponent. Even the cut in my arm. None of it was real.

The pain wavered then, as if it could hear my thoughts. I pushed into it, like I was pushing out an illness or a virus. In the real world, my arm was fine. I'd wake up and there'd be no cut. This was pretend. This was make-believe. A fairy tale for the masses.

This was meditation on bent knees and knuckles. This was a lesson. To accept the pain, accept the circumstances, and accept myself.

I took a breath, and the pain trickled out with the blood. The cut still slashed through my arm, but it became nothing more than a part of me.

I pushed against Trent with strength that seemed to come from nowhere. He stumbled back several paces, surprise veiling his face. I flipped my sword around, catching it just below the hilt, and tossed it to Rooke. He caught it with a swipe of his hand. I pulled my dagger from my hip and tossed it to the side. It tumbled until it landed around Rooke's feet. I stood tall, unarmed, with renewed energy and self-assurance. I was no longer part of the virtual world. No. Not a part of it.

I owned it. It bowed to me.

I grinned and closed my eyes.

Despite the digital setting, I knew what was happening in the real world. I could picture the crowds screaming. I could hear the announcers going ballistic.

Open your eyes. What the hell is she doing?

Behind me, Rooke backed up several steps, though when he stopped, one foot still tapped with excitement.

I stilled inside. Even breaths. No fear. When you fight to the death enough times, the experience dwindles down to mere details. And they'd all be his.

Trent snickered.

The world became nothing but sounds. The pounding of his footsteps. The whoosh of his sword. And the wind whispering in my ear.

The air above me whistled as Trent brought his sword down over my head. I swiveled back, turning side to side, completely avoiding his blows as he sliced through the air again and again. After dodging several of his downward attacks, he switched tactics and swung the blade sideways, still driving toward me. I ducked and slid under his arm. As he stumbled past, back wide open, I shoved him hard, driving the momentum he'd already created for himself. He ran face-first into the wall.

Behind us, Rooke laughed.

Trent shook his head and looked at me standing in the center of the tower. I smiled and waved. Over here, big guy. The muscles in his neck went tight, and his face turned red.

My smile only widened.

This was just a game, after all. And I was having fun.

Trent grunted, gathered himself, and came at me again.

He thrust his sword at my head. I simply tilted to the side. As the blade slid past my head, I grabbed his wrists, and following his momentum again, slammed him straight into my bent knee. He doubled over, coughing, gripping his stomach.

I took a breath and slowly pushed out the exhale, feeling the air travel through every inch of my body. I was fighting without fighting. Seeing without seeing.

I was one with myself.

When Trent came at me this time, he swung low, anticipating my duck. I dropped down and hooked my knee around his ankle. He fell. His back hit the ground with a heavy thud, and his sword tumbled from his grip. I rolled, snatching the sword for myself, and landed with a knee on his chest. I pressed my weight down. He wheezed as the air rushed out of his lungs.

This was it. In that moment, I never felt more genuine, because I was going home. The simulation would end, I'd wake up, and real life would begin.

I looked down at him as I positioned my sword above his head. His eyes went wide, and he held his hands up, signaling mercy. I smiled.

Sorry, pal.

It's for the show.

I brought my sword down. An inch from his face, he caught it with both hands, skin digging into the blade. Bands of blood slithered down his shaking arms. He strained against me. The blade lifted from his face, pushing the hilt up and toward me. No. I pressed my weight into the sword. We locked. The blade lowered again. More blood slipped out from his hands, speckling his face and chest. He grunted. Sweat dripped off his face in buckets.

The blade rose. And then more. Even with him down and my weight against him, my strength wasn't enough. It never would be. And it didn't have to be.

The wind whispered in my ear.

Let go.

I did.

Not anticipating my sudden release, Trent thrust the sword up until the hilt was parallel with my head. His hands slipped off the blade. I followed the motion through like a pendulum and, with the wind swirling around me, brought the sword back down and slammed it right through his eye.