Chapter 22- Stakes

  The drill is different today. Aquatic, like Raze has warned.

  The class falls into an ominous silence the moment we walk in. All five board members of the Academy are awaiting us in the Arena’s lobby, sitting beside Cerena. No introductions as they scan our faces, a clipboard on their laps. A whiteboard greets us at the end of the room, listing our aliases in rank order so members can identify us more easily.

  Saber Polar bear Scorpion Hyena

  Jaguar Crocodile Bull shark Electric Rays

  Raven Wasp Cricket

  Bison Hippo Rhino

  Falcon Rattletail Silverback Gorilla

  Viper Hawk Ox

  Like a disorganized guide for a zoo.

  Not only them but an array of human EMTs and nurse Andra’s line up against the walls, on standby. For what our instructor doesn’t explain.

  The window blinds are fogged, blocking today’s playing field. Though we all know with our aquatic gear, we’ll be going for a swim. The suit is fitted, flexible, and fast-drying. Our boots are for both land and water. Velms switched to type B.4, specifically designed for underwater use, tighter around the eyes, with a detachable lower half.

  This is the first time the Arena will be filled with water, nothing synthetic, so Lotus’s Arena specialist team is also accessing the drill through the camera. No one’s said it, but we all know Lavoran Vikson is in the audience, too.

  “In two teams of ten,” Cerena starts, the moment we step into position. “Your objective for today’s drill will be to eliminate Hostiles. Out of all the Hostiles, only one will drop a key. The first team to insert the key into the vault will be crowned today’s winner.”

  She taps a button on her panel, and a metallic rifle drops into her arms—military grade from centuries ago. Magazine loaded.

  “You’ll be eliminating the hostiles with these,” Cerena continues, and demonstrates to us how to use them. “Though you can shoot the other team with these, I suggest you all save your bullets for the Hostiles instead. Now, friendly fire is on. Be aware of your surroundings and coordinate well with your teammates before every shot. You do not want to be caught in the crossfire. There will be no health pack nor remedies for in-game wounds. If shot or injured, you must play out the game unless my system deems you incapacitated, from major loss of blood, or otherwise. That is one way to be eliminated. The other is a bullet to the heart or eliminated by the Hostiles. I don’t recommend either.”

  Andras hands out the weapons, individually briefing us on the safety switch and proper handling techniques, and slings it over my shoulder, equipping us with a hunter’s knife the size of my forearm on my right thigh and two extra magazines on my hip—heavy bullets. The weight drops on my legs.

  “We’re using guns in water?” Raven asks. The weapon is half her size, anchoring her to the floor.

  “There’s land,” Cerena says. “I encourage you all to stay on it.”

  I examine the gun closely, getting comfortable with the feeling and taking blank shots at the ceiling. Though it’s not a ray gun, the fire still registers as dangerous, and I feel my palm sweating under my gloves. Why guns today?

  But they did give us a knife…

  “What are the hostiles?” I ask. Our sole targets used to be Mutants when we traveled outside the borders, and sometimes dummies, but in the Arena, anything is possible.

  Cerena thins her lips as if to refrain from smiling. “That’s for you to find out inside. Be on the alert and be ready.”

  Everyone is warily glancing around, uneasy, especially when the board members are whispering among each other, and throwing fingers our way, as if they’ve prepared us a nasty surprise.

  “Any other questions?” asks the instructor. I raise my hand, but she answers without a word, leaving my mouth. “Fifty points for each member on the winning team.”

  This is what pumped up the class spirit. Unlike the scraps we’ve been earning, fifty is enough to shake up the ranks in the top twenty. If I win this, I can take the lead.

  The lights blink dark. When it returns in a flash, the room is divided into two: Red and blue carpets beneath us. A thick line breaks the middle of the room, right in between me and Raze—the two teams.

  Everyone sprints behind Raze. Other than me, the blue side remains empty.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  My finger rests against the cold metal of the gun. It’s always been this way—me against them. Though I shouldn’t be too surprised, they chose the best shooter. With his flawless precision, it’s basically an automatic win. I’d run to his team too if we weren’t competing for the same points. Unfortunately, there’ll never be a world where we’re both on the same side.

  Not anymore.

  Raze faces me. “Quite a team you got there.”

  His first words to me in a week. After our friendly talk, we go back to ignoring each other in class as we have been for the last seven years. And why would anything change between us just after a small talk? Especially when neither of us would stand down for what we want?

  I replayed our conversation that night down at the Aquarium over and over, wondering why I had even said something so personal. I basically gave him bullets to shoot me with.

  My mother's words are loud in my head. They’re your competition, not your friends.

  Stupid girl.

  “If you’d like,” Raze continues, with an easy shrug, “I can come to your side. Just us two against the rest of them—against the world. Like a hero and sidekick. What do you say?”

  I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smugness in his voice.

  “I don’t need a sidekick,” I reply.

  Cerena won’t allow this. In the end, every player except me and Raze is to pick a crumbled paper from a jar. The team color is printed inside.

  Without other indication other than an unsatisfying grunt, I can tell who landed on my team. They slug past me without a word. Like I want you, too, asshole.

  Well, everyone except Raven. I watch her hand pull out from the glass jar and unfold. She groans. I don’t bother hiding my gleam. Other than Raze, Raven would have to be the next best shooter. There are a handful of good players on my side, so I’m not completely doomed.

  She strolls to her spot on my right. “Don't get shot,” she says. “The gun’s heavy enough as it is. I can’t carry your weight this time.

  We’ve hardly exchanged a word since the last drill. My usual insults no longer come out easily, nor do they feel as exhilarating as before. It’s hard to get a dig at someone who has a gun to my head.

  “The only way I’ll get shot is if you shoot me,” I reply.

  When the last player steps onto my team, Viper offers her to switch sides. When Cerena allows it, the girl doesn’t hesitate and hops across the line.

  “Genevene, why?” Raven exclaims.

  Viper strolls over and pulls the small girl into a tight, excited hug. “We’re on the same team now!”

  I step aside to give them space.

  “But you might lose now,” Raven says, wiggling out of her arms.

  “Oh, please. They only have one good shooter. We have at least two.”

  It’s true. Viper’s not bad. Now that I think about it, anyone who can shoot straight is better than I am.

  “Trash talking this early, Vips?” Bison says. His toes stop right before the team line. “Yikes.”

  “She only learned from the best,” Raven retorts.

  “I wouldn’t consider it trash talk if he can back it up,” Raze joins in.

  “Do I hear a bet?” Viper says.

  “Five hashis,” Raven tosses in. “Take it or leave it.”

  “I think the rest of us can raise,” says Bison, nudging Falcon. “Throw in your gold teeth.”

  They all chuckle, casually tossing in their valuables—diamond pearl earrings, grandma’s old ring—their little stakes before a heated drill. It’s all a fun game to them, not a life-changing event that’ll open the doors to my future. I take another step away to give them their space.

  “Not placing your bet, Princess?” Raze says.

  I make the mistake of glancing his way, and all heads dart to me. Shit. Heat rises to my cheeks. How can he say this in front of all his friends? In front of the whole class? Does he have no shame?

  “Princess?” Bison echoes directly at me, baffled. “What did I miss?”

  I stand there, stupid, fingers choking the metal muzzle, and slowly turn their way—the smooth sheen of their velm on me. Thank god I can’t see their eyes, and they can’t see my face.

  “Lotus is trying to secure a deal with her drugs,” Raven finally explains. “Now Raze is kissing her ass until the dinner meeting tonight, I guess.”

  Of course, Raven knows. She and Raze are good friends, close, even. I won’t be surprised if there’s more between them.

  “Ah, the new year gala,” Bison says. “Sorry, I can’t make it this year.”

  He and Viper are both invited annually, but both had plans this time. Good. I don’t want to see them more than I should anyway.

  Their gazes still linger on me, awaiting my response. I’ve never placed a bet before, nor do I have much to bargain.

  I glance at Raven. “Five hashis. Take it or leave it.”

  Bison scoffs. “Not very confident this time, huh, Ice Witch?"

  Chuckles rise in their circle.

  “It’s fine if that’s all she can afford,” Raven adds, treading thin ice.

  Viper elbows her to stop, yet snickers.

  Air stops at my throat, and I can’t swallow the bile down. My fist tightens so much that I force myself not to bend the metal in my hold. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, digging into my skin; Under a spotlight that’s not my stage.

  “I’ll throw in my new bike,” Raze offers. “If you win, I’ll show you how to ride it.”

  At once, my fingers stretch out, dropping my death grip on my rifle. “I wouldn’t get so cocky if I were you,” I say, and advance his way. My hand yanks out the hunter’s knife, and the tip stops right before his throat. “I’ll throw in my Govon bag.”

  The class rises in a low murmur to my response. Falcon blows out a daring whistle.

  Raze’s body hinders slightly backwards from the surprise, but resists taking a step back. I feel his smirk in his words. “Is it wise to bring a knife to a gunfight?”

  “Let’s hope you don’t lose your gun, court clown.” I redraw myself before Cerena storms over. If there are guns involved, the Arena will have to be large, with many barricades to block bullets and projectiles. With the right timing and tactic, I wouldn’t need a gun to take him down.

  I examine the knife closely. Curved at the end, rough with teeth towards the hilt. I blink and it flies out of my hand, as if a ghost yanked it away, followed by a distant thud. I stare in disbelief at my empty gloved palm, and search my surroundings, but there’s no one close to me. No, everyone’s focus locks on the right wall behind me.

  Two knives. One end of a blade found its way deep inside the wall, and the other knife, hanging by the strap, caught by the first.

  What the fuck?

  Raze saunters past me. His gaze on me without a word, and plucks them out. The two blades spin and flip on both hands, as if absentmindedly playing with a pen in a boring lecture. He tosses them into the air, juggling the dancing blades effortlessly for the class to see. He offers one back to me.

  “Oh, sorry, Princess, did you think I was only good with a gun?”