The day was young, the sun streaming its soft rays down on the Beta branch. Liv can smell the petrichor in the air, the damp feeling of wet grass beneath her boots, ghosting her skin with a dash of moistness, the wind carrying it violently whipping at her face. It had been a day since the beatdown George had inflicted on them, leaving all but her hospitalized. Nothing their weapons couldn’t fix, but the lesson was clear: they were still missing something.

  Liv wracked her brain the entire night, sparing no expense, using all her mental faculties, and she had found a few weaknesses in their strategy. For one, they underestimated their opponent. He knew everything they could do, but they had no clue what he could do, and they had gone on the offensive the entire time. She also severely underestimated the range of his teleportation; though, she suspected his ability went far beyond simple teleportation.

  Anthony had come up with a lot of the plan's legwork, which brought her to the second hole in the plan. They had left Anthony completely in the open. In hindsight she could easily see why that was a mistake. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t seem to have any means to defend himself at closer ranges, making him vulnerable to the types of attacks George would pump out.

  The final nail in their coffin was the simple power difference she observed. To put it simply, in a raw contest of strength, she was unsure if she could defeat the elder man, even with the power provided by her boss.

  Nothing to do about that now, she’d find out his own opinions soon. To her surprise, George had called them all outside the walls, escorting all four of them through the cold morning breeze, out into the sprawling fields outside the Beta. After a bit of driving, they all piled out of the car, following George just a few steps away from their ride home.

  Donovan shivers, dressed lightly despite the cold weather. None of them expected to be out here, but it seemed he was handling it the worst.

  “I’m freezing over here!” He cries, his arms rubbing against his long sleeved shirt, the friction-created heat giving little respite from the overbearing airchill. Liv looks over, her own body dressed in the usual: her trusty tanktop and jeans, though she did tie her hair up, anticipating the long day.

  “Ain’t that bad.” Liv muses, her arms crossing across her chest.

  Donovan turns her gaze to her, an incredulous look in his eye as he gives her a once over. His eyes seem to land on her gauntlets, however, a grunt of frustration and, perhaps, a hint of mild jealousy entering his voice. “You have those gauntlets helping you. It’s not fair.”

  “Are you saying your weapon is… Inferior?” Charlotte muses from beside him, her voice lilting with the heavy burden of teasing in her voice. Donovan gives her a hard stare, rolling his eyes before, ultimately, ignoring her. She, too, had her hair tied up, though hers was in a tight ponytail that trailed down to just below her shoulder blade. How she stayed warm in that armor was above Donovan, not a worry for Anthony, and a question Liv hadn’t even considered.

  “I mean… I guess it’s kind of cold” Anthony pipes up, raising his hand to the air, feeling the wind blow past his hand. It was hard to see for him at the current moment, mostly because of his long hair billowing in the wind. He, unlike his female contemporaries, hadn’t tied his hair up. The offer was on the table, one Charlotte proposed on their way here, but one that was steadfastly refused from her larger teammate.

  “It’s just cold.” Donovan murmurs, turning his gaze to George. The older man was just… Watching them with a smile, his arms crossed, sunglasses perched high on his face.

  In the morning.

  When the sun was barely out….

  Liv has scarce time to think about the logistics of the apparel before George claps his hand, the sharp noise cracking like a whip in the empty space, slicing through the howling wind.

  “Alright,” he starts, giving them all a once over, “can one of you tell me why I brought you all out here?”

  His question echoes through the group, prompting a raise of hands; particularly, one from Charlotte and one from Anthony. These hands are rendered ineffectual as Liv raises her voice, speaking before Anthony or Charlotte have a chance.

  “Cause yer gonna tell us what we did wrong n’ stuff.”

  She can feel the stares of Charlotte and Anthony immediately, her own eyes turning to meet theirs. Anthony has a simple look of confusion on his face, but Charlotte looks just a hint offended. Not enough to act upon any stray, intrusive thought swimming in her brain, but enough to show the disapproval in her body language. Even Liv, with her limited, poor social knowledge could see it, causing a small, nervous flush to flow onto her face.

  “Did I do somethin’ wrong?” She questions.

  “Nope!” George says, the correction dying on Charlotte’s lips. It’s now George’s turn to receive Anthony and Charlotte’s stare, their subdued expressions far stronger in relation to the warden of the Beta. He stares back, the smile never falling from his face as his hands slip to the pockets of his shorts, a small chuckle peeling from his lips. “While respect is good for the nepo parties,” his eyes shoot a poignant stare to Charlotte as he says “nepo”, her body shifting defensively, “they don’t have a place in the field, nor do they have a place with me. Ignoring that, Liv’s right!”

  Liv puffs up her chest, clearly proud of herself for getting the answer right. She was ignoring the fact that nobody else was conscious enough to hear the conversation between her and George— that would spoil the whole celebration…

  George clears his throat, his hands sweeping out to each of them. “Tell me. Do any of you have a clue why you lost?” Before anyone can blurt out their answers, Liv already poised to list off every reason she could personally think of, George gestures to the leftmost person, his finger pointed at Charlotte’s armored self. “Start with you.”

  Charlotte doesn’t hesitate, her mind already made up. It seems the question had been burning a hole through her mind just like it had with Liv. “We did not use our weapons to their full effect. If we had used our charges smarter, or if we had been a tad more competent, the scales might have tipped in our favor.”

  Liv blinks in surprise, her mind whirring with the new information. She hadn’t considered that angle, mostly because she believed she had been quite clever with her abilities. Hadn’t she…? Her mind shifted to what she might’ve innovated on, what new discoveries she’s made with her weapon. That Faraji technique? Maybe, but that was just a bunch of explosion jumps combined. The save she performed? No, that was just another damn jump.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The realization slowly creeps up on her, an uncomfortable one, one that sends lances of frustration mixed with disappointment through her brain. She hasn’t really done anything new with her abilities. That didn't mean her team didn't, though! They had told each other what they could do just before the fight, so Liv had a cursory knowledge on what their weapons did. Charlotte controlled wind, Donovan could change the molecular makeup of anything he put in his Tonfa, and Anthony could heal; though, that was all he told any of them. A quick glance to Donovan showed his own expression mirroring her own, though Anthony looked almost… Content.

  George gives a quick pump of his head, his eyes closing as he considers for a moment. “Not a terrible assessment. I won’t hold your hand on this, I don’t believe any of you have even tapped the surface of your potential.” The words are directed at all of them, though Liv can swear she can see him staring especially at Anthony. Liv wishes, just for a moment, that she could see his eyes beneath that mop of hair. Alas, it’s not meant to be.

  “Some of you are dabbling in the potential of Synth Charges," he starts, his eyes falling on Liv for a split moment, "but you all seem locked in the essential basics of your weapons ability. If you want to improve, you have to push the boundaries and push them as far as they can go. Trust me, your weapons can do a whole hell of a lot more when you give them a stern talking to."

  “Not now if you’re thinking of asking me now.” Bruno pipes up, killing the words on Liv’s mental tongue. She supposes it can wait, though she really had to stop forgetting to have conversations with her weapon.

  “Still, not the answer I was looking for.” George's eyes turn to Donovan as he speaks, his hand gesturing out to coax an answer from the young man, not bothering to ask for his response. Clearly, Donovan had thought some about it, though he seemed to be less sure of himself than Charlotte was. After a moment of thought, he speaks, his voice containing just a hint of unsteadiness.

  “Planning…?” He starts, a shrug coming as soon as he says it. Before anyone can respond, he explains himself, his hands sliding into his pockets. “I mean, we didn’t really have a good backup. We only considered one angle and prayed it’d work. After Anthony went down…” Donovnan shoots a quick glance to Anthony, the larger man looking ramrod straight. He didn’t seem offended by the callout, however; still, Donovan didn’t really have anything else to say.

  George stares at him for a moment, assessing the young man before nodding, a mixed look passing across his face. “Obvious answer, but not the most important. Your plan was well thought out, but it didn’t account for my abilities at all. You also left Anthony open, and he didn't get a way to stop me in close quarters."

  Liv nods, the assessment matching with hers closely. Despite the sting of failure that lingered in the deep recesses of her mind, the validation of being right soothed the wounds, even if just a bit.

  George gestures to her, giving her the go ahead to speak. Liv considers for a moment, going through her options. Two of her three options had been said in one form or another, leaving her one option that could, perhaps, be the one he was speaking of.

  “I reckon we underestimated ya.” She says, watching the expression on his face closely. He waits for her to continue, an assessing expression on his own face. Liv hums, considering how she could put it. After a moment, she shrugs, deciding to just say what was on her mind. “Well, I dunno yer power or anythin’, so I was goin’ in blind. I dunno ‘bout my team, though.”

  “That’s a big one, yeah.” George starts, a hum in his voice as he considers her words. “While the strategy of copying Alema’s gameplan was clever at the moment, and might’ve worked on anyone else… It wouldn’t work on me if I hadn’t let you.”

  Liv furrows her brow, wanting to call his bluff. The expression on his face gives no such indication, however. The man before her doesn’t match the old, fun loving, nepo hating geezer she knows. Right now, he resembles the Warden of the Beta, the man who told them their odds, the one who single handedly defeated her and her team. Her eyes shift to the scar stretching across his lip, his neutral expression marred in a snarl. It sends a chill up her spine, her mind– and Bruno for that matter– yelling at her to apologize for everything they’ve ever done.

  After a few moments of his hard stare, he coughs into his hand, his eyes shifting to Anthony, his expression softening to its usual friendly hue.

  “You look like you already know, Anthony. Care to share?”

  Anthony takes a glance at him, his hair still whipping violently in the breeze. He looks before his team before shrugging his shoulders casually. “I think I’ll pass. It wouldn’t help anyone if I just gave them the answer.”

  George nods his head, trying to suppress the massive, ear splitting smile that threatens to spread across his face. Liv was more confused than anything. She knew he was well versed, the details of his story weren’t foreign to her. Still, if he knew, why didn’t he tell them? Was it a slip of the moment, or something more malicious.

  “Well, if you’re not gonna say, I will.” George says. “You all had some good guesses. I can’t say any of you had any bad suggestions, which is rare. Still, there's a crucial aspect you're missing.”

  Liv, alongside Donovan and Charlotte, lean forward, hanging off his every word. If he was telling the truth, and this could help their team, then they had to listen, had to beat the lesson into their brains until it became a non issue.

  Slowly, a hint of the smile that George conceals begins to spread across George’s old, weathered face, a single finger rising from his hand, his voice slow and assured. “Frankly put, your teamwork was, and still is, weak."

  Liv blinks, her eyebrows shooting up, a sense of incredulity seeping deep into her bones, looking at George as if he called her something offensive. In her opinion, he might as well have! What the hell did he mean they had no teamwork? What the hell was their plan then? Did that just not exist anymore? Has teamwork’s definition changed since she last learned it?

  “Uhm, ‘scuse me.” Liv pipes up, cutting George as he takes a breath to continue, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Yeah, uh… I’m pretty sure we were workin’ as a team.”

  George turns his full body to her, slowly raising his hand to tilt his sunglasses down, an imploring expression plastered on his face. Enjoying it perhaps a bit too much, he speaks, his voice filled with a mock authoritative tone. “Oh? Tell me then, Ms. Boss. Why do you think that?”

  “Well,” Liv starts, tapping her chin with her pointer, “I dunno, I reckon what we were doin’ was teamwork, aint it? I mean, don’t teamwork still mean teamwork?”

  “I have to concur.” Charlotte pipes up herself, her voice an octave quieter than Liv’s. She was nervous: that much could be seen by anyone with an advanced understanding of social cues, or of her, despite her best efforts to hide it. She’s usually so much better about it, but speaking out like this was going against every social cue she’d ever learned. It was equal parts nerve wracking and thrilling. “While our teamwork was not exemplary, I don’t believe to be the Achilles heel you make it out to be.”

  George pushes his glasses back up, turning to face the entire group once more, a thoughtful hum escaping his lips. Eventually, he looks to Donovan, a questioning brow raising. “You got an opinion, kiddo?”

  “Huh?” Donovan questions, his head perking up. He hadn’t meant to be so quiet, but the message yesterday had been sobering: he wasn’t strong enough. Three times he had been completely dominated by George even with a strategy. He had believed he could, at least, land a blow on anyone given all the training and testing he had been through. That delusion had been shattered, and thoroughly. Still, he speaks, his voice shifting down an octave. “Uh, I don't think it's that weak, but I’m not gonna raise my shield and defend it either. I think it’s middling.”

  “Good points,” George starts, sizing each of them up. He seemed unoffended by the interruption, perhaps amused as a wry smile grows across his face, “I think you’re confused, though. What all you kiddos described wasn’t teamwork, it was coordination.”