Arena (31 page)

V
ictory.

My entire life had led up to this moment. Not just the past few months of tournament play. Years of training, martial arts lessons, and mastering the virtual world. All of it had coalesced into this life-defining moment.

Twenty. I was twenty years old, and I'd won a national championship. My teammates' futures were set. My future was set.

Shock, joy, and sheer exhilaration swirled together inside in that cool, prickly feeling you get when something amazing happens, as if it were conducted through magic itself. I stood with my teammates, each in front of our respective pods, exchanging glances, afraid to move forward, as if reality would undo what had just happened in the virtual world. They say you'll always remember the moments when your life stood still. This was one of them. I'd remember right now forever.

In the background, the crowd was going ballistic. People cheered, jumped on each other, waved signs and flags. The screens behind us faded into celebrations around the world. Banners depicting Fight-for-Nathan waved in the background as mobs of people paraded through the streets. But it was all background noise, as if we were inside a bubble of peace, and absolute astonishment.

Hannah moved first, pulling me into her arms, followed by Derek and
everyone else, even the programmers, until I was lost in a sea of limbs and bodies. I don't know who shouted first, but soon we were all shouting and screaming and jumping up and down. A mosh pit of hugs and squeals. Derek kissed Rooke's forehead. Hannah and Lily kissed each other. We did it.

We'd won.

Howie and Marcus met us on our side of the stage and led us to the south, where the championship cup sat waiting. As we crossed the stage, InvictUS met us halfway. Trent broke away from his teammates and marched straight up to me. For a second, I thought there would be another fight right here onstage. Instead, he extended his hand.

“Good game.”

My gaze flicked between his face and open palm a few times. Then, I embraced the handshake.

The rest of the team offered their hands to us. We shook and traded compliments and pats on the back. Before he left, Trent leaned toward me and lowered his voice.

“Image is everything,” he murmured. “In front of the cameras, we put on a show, but that's not really who we are.” He moved even closer. “Off the record, if someone had to beat me, I'm glad it was the warrior.”

Then he winked and left with his teammates.

They paraded down the aisle to the exit, the same they'd entered from earlier. They cheered, and high-fived fans, celebrating like they'd won. And really, they had. Runner-up in a championship still meant they'd been picked up as permanent players in the VGL. They were strong gamers and put on a hell of a show. But, for a split second, Trent had shown me the real person under the façade. Though it was difficult to judge such a small moment in time, I had a feeling they were good guys, after all. They deserved this and were going to party as much as they'd earned it.

Howie and Marcus presented us to the crowd.

“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Your 2054 RAGE champions. Congratulations, Team Defiance. What a match.”

Howie nodded at his counterpart and turned to face the audience. “These guys came from behind at the beginning of the season and fought every inch
of the way here. They earned this rematch against InvictUS and proved they deserved to be champions. An amazing team altogether, but an amazing captain as well. Kali Ling, the first female captain to win a championship. You just witnessed history here tonight, folks. It's happening right now.”

The crowd applauded and cheered, though the noise had never really died down. Howie and Marcus brought us forward to the stand at the end of the stage, and my teammates motioned for me to take the cup. I placed a hand on either side, and paused. This was another life-defining instant. I took a second to memorize it. The feeling of sheer exhilaration flooded every nerve in my body. The bumps and grooves in the cup from the inscriptions of the names of all the gamers before us. The excitement from the crowd. And lastly, the feel of my teammates' hands on my shoulders. I'd led, and they'd followed me here. They'd follow me anywhere. No matter what happened from here on out, we were more than friends. We were a team, banded together for life. Now, and always.

I raised the cup.

Somehow, the applause and cheers grew even louder until I was drowning in the noise. My teammates surrounded me and gathered me up in their arms. One of those prickly magic waves rushed over me again. Pride swelled within and boiled over until tears spilled down my cheeks. Wrapped in my teammates' arms, I didn't care. The night was full of perfect moments, and I was living every one of them.

Howie and Marcus turned to the cameras. “We're signing off for the night but stay tuned for the press conference with Team Defiance in just a few minutes, and be sure to join us next week for the start of the Dungeon Raids. Good night, everybody.”

They waved at the crowd and the cameras, as they zoomed out and panned away.

The stage lights clicked off, and a strong hand gripped my shoulder. Someone plucked the cup from my hands. Security guards pulled us apart and dragged us offstage. Words like “press conference” and “they're waiting” echoed somewhere in the background, like being underwater. The crowd continued their celebration. Their cheers and general jubilation followed us backstage and down the hall.

The doors to the press-conference room opened as the guards led us in. Reporters bombarded us upon entry. Some clapped and cheered. Others pushed their microphones forward and shouted questions out of turn. Cameras snapped and sparkled until the room became nothing but blue fuzz punctuated by white flashes. But it was all a distant jumble, as if the few feet between us and the reporters was really a mile. We were all somewhere else. And somewhere else was wonderful.

Security had to guide us onto the stage as we all walked forward in a daze. At least we managed to sit down by ourselves. The emcee announced himself and scanned through the audience for a question. The first reporter jumped to his feet, asking the obvious.

“How does it feel to be champions?”

We all answered at the same time, which came out as a jumbled mix of synonyms.

“Great.”

“Amazing.”

“Unbelievable.”

The cameras continued to flash, adding to the buzz of the room. The reporters moved in a sea of waves, heads bobbing as they gossiped among each other, grins plastered on all their faces. We weren't the only ones with adrenaline pumping through our veins.

Another reporter stood. “What do you think was the defining factor in your victory?”

My teammates looked down the table to me. The reporters clapped again. One called out my name. I shook my head and pressed my lips against the microphone.

“Everyone contributed. We won because of the team. We trained hard, harder than we had in our whole lives, and gave it our all. Some people never get this kind of opportunity. We didn't want to spit on that.”

Spit on that? Well, that almost came out smooth. Thanks, Mom.

“Any words to your opponents, InvictUS?”

Rooke spoke up. “Thanks for making us step up our game. Without them, we wouldn't have gone this far.”

How true were those words. We wouldn't have trained and pushed
ourselves to go further than we ever thought possible if it hadn't been for our opponents. The fact that we'd kicked their ass was just the cherry on top.

Another reporter shouted a question. “What's the first thing you're going to do tonight?”

Derek waggled his eyebrows at the cameras and unleashed his million-dollar smile.

“Party.”

We all laughed. Yes, there would be parties. And probably champagne. At least this time, we'd earned it.

“But before we answer any more questions,” Derek continued, “I think we should take a minute to remember our fallen teammate.”

The constant buzz of the room cut to silence.

“Nathan was our friend,” Derek continued. “We didn't always get along, but he was a good guy, and his skills in the battlefield were incredible. We would like to extend our sympathies to his family. It's long overdue.”

Derek bowed his head. We mirrored him.

The room remained silent other than a few soft clicks of the cameras and people shifting in their chairs. The reporters joined us in remembering Nathan. But I knew this wasn't just for him. It was a moment for all those who'd suffered from this sport, off camera and behind the scenes. The forgotten.

When we raised our heads, the audience clapped, a wholehearted sharp applause that conquered the room with its beat. When it finally died down and the room once again descended into an awkward silence, one reporter spoke up.

“Is it true he actually died of an overdose?”

Ah, yes. During the match, I'd forgotten how the VGL's own announcers had joined the rebellion. Bless you, Howie and Marcus. Pick up a sword sometime. We could be the three musketeers.

I leaned forward and spoke clearly and controlled.

“Yes. He overdosed. I was there when he died. I really wish I could have helped him, but there wasn't anything I could do. I'm sorry to his family. He was a good man and a good gamer. He just got caught up in the lifestyle.”

With those words, a weight lifted. My stomach rested calmly, not one ripple on an open lake. I no longer blamed myself for not doing more when he died. He was already gone when I woke in the morning, and he was breathing when I fell asleep. How was I to know anything was wrong? The guilt had vanished because I knew we'd done right by him.

“Why was his cause of death listed as heart failure?” someone from the audience called out.

“I think it was just a miscommunication,” Hannah answered. “Things get blurred and reversed a lot in print and media. It's like the telephone game. It's no one's fault.”

I smiled inwardly. She'd caught on to my hint that I wasn't blaming the industry for what happened. It was an accumulation of events. Team owners, sponsors, hell, even the gamers ourselves were all to blame for the issues in eSports.

Another reporter stood. “Is drug usage really that bad in virtual gaming?”

We exchanged looks with each other. Derek spoke up.

“It's a serious problem in this sport.”

“Have any of the rest of you experienced this yourselves?”

“Yes,” I said. “I've had my own problems, especially in the beginning of the season. I had enough close calls to admit my life was in danger. I had to crash before I realized I had a problem. But I've been working hard ever since, and I'm stronger now than I ever was before. And not just with a sword.”

The crowd laughed.

“What got you through it? How did you recover?”

I smiled. “Through the love of a few good friends.”

Beneath the table, Rooke squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. Then he turned to his microphone.

“I did, too,” he announced. “I've had problems. So did someone I cared for. And several others.”

The emcee stopped calling on people at this point and just let them shout out questions as they liked.

“Why hasn't the industry done something to regulate this?”

Lily found her voice. “I don't think people realized how big of a problem it is. I think now we can count on the VGL to take steps in the right direction.”

Yes, now they'd have to. They'd have to address the problems with this sport, and the consequences of spending too many hours inside the virtual world. Drug addiction. Insanity. Death. This was really happening. This was history in the making, and not just because we'd won the tournament.

“Kali,” another reporter called out. I lifted my head to a woman standing in the middle of the crowd. “At twenty years old, you've become one of the top fighters in the world and the first female captain to lead your team to a national championship. What's next for you?”

I blinked as I looked out at the sea of reporters and flashing cameras. The doc had asked me the same question that morning, and when I opened my mouth, I surprised even myself at the answer.

“I'm leaving.”

A stunned hush fell over the crowd. Gasps came at me from every angle. I felt the eyes of my teammates on me, digging holes into the side of my head. No one knew I was planning to drop that little bombshell. No one. I knew they'd be hurt by it, but for me, another weight had been lifted. It was the right answer. For me.

A flurry of questions followed. I gave them the standard answers, the ones we're taught.

“I don't know yet . . . No comment at this time . . .”

Once we were backstage, my teammates ambushed me. Hannah wrapped me in a tight hug. “Oh, Kali. You're not really leaving us.” She pulled back to look at my face. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “You made this team what it is. We can't do this without you.”

I shook my head. “I love you guys, but I can't stay here. This isn't me. I'm not going to go along with all the bullshit or sacrifice who I am to make it in this industry.”

“So, you're leaving? Just like that?”

“No, I'm going to show people the right way.”

Derek stepped forward. “What are you saying?”

“I'm going to create my own team. A player-owned team. I'm going to change the industry from the inside out.”

“You already have a team,” Derek said, motioning around him. “We'll go with you.”

Lily and Hannah nodded feverishly. I held up a hand. “It'll take some time before I'm ready. I can't ask you to put your careers on hold for that.”

Hannah's expression fell. “But—”

“Stay in the tournaments,” I emphasized. “Make names for yourselves. When I'm ready, I'll find you.”

“We'll be there,” Derek said. Hannah and Lily nodded again. Behind them all, Rooke stood with his arms crossed, completely quiet. He was a blank slate. Maybe he was pissed at me, or too shocked to react. But at this point, it didn't matter. I had another stubborn man to deal with first.