He shrugged. “I can’t alter any programming on the pods. That’ll get us banned from the league.”
“At this point, I don’t care. If it’s between my team and the league, I’m going to choose you guys every time. If that gets me banned, so be it.”
“If we get banned and can’t compete, then there’s no point to having a team.”
I sighed. “So, what?”
“Either we drop out of the tournament—”
“Or?”
“We keep going and bear the brunt of whatever they throw at us next.”
I realized then I couldn’t just drop out of the tournament. I’d risk getting sued. I had sponsor contracts to fulfill. Plus, it would only further damage our reputation and show the VGL that they had won. I took a deep breath, released it, and shoved my emotions to the side. I wanted to do right by my team, and unfortunately, doing right meant taking a stand. Not backing down.
Earning our namesake.
Defiance.
“We keep going.”
CHAPTER 15
Saturday Night Gaming.
It was the staple of American virtual sports. Every Saturday night, most of the continent tuned in to watch the best players in the league duke it out in various virtual arenas. But now, with the international teams participating, Saturday Night Gaming was rivaling the Olympics in terms of worldwide popularity and viewership.
As I stood inside the game that Saturday night, it didn’t feel like a billion people were watching me. The air had no scent or movement. Instead, it was suffocating, thick and heavy. The streets were empty and brimming with absolute silence. Unlike the RAGE arena, basked in golden tones and rich scents, this place was devoid of sensations. Instead, it felt mechanical. Barren. Lifeless. This was a pocket reality where nothing else existed. Just me, and the game.
Tonight, we were up against Inner Sanctum, a newer team from England. Derek, Hannah, and Lily had all run for the flag. Lily was a decoy tonight, running straight through the open streets, while Derek and Hannah stuck to the rooftops and alleyways. The hope was that Sanctum would pounce on Lily, leaving their flag open for Derek and Hannah to take with ease.
Rooke and I were left to guard our base.
I stood three feet from our flag, sword drawn. My gaze flicked from street, to street, to rooftop, and everywhere between. Movement caught my eye on one of the rooftops. Three blocks down, a shadow leaned over a roof’s edge and disappeared again. They were canvassing the area, preparing to attack.
“They’re on the roof.” I pointed with my sword to where I’d seen the shadow. “Ready?” I glanced over my shoulder and found empty space. “Rooke?”
I whirled around. He stood twenty feet away, back to the flag, in front of a glass storefront of one of the buildings, staring inside.
“Rooke!” I shouted.
He didn’t move. I darted over to him, and tugged on his arm.
“Come on. What the hell are you doing?”
I followed his gaze to the glass, except it wasn’t really glass. It was a mirror. In the reflection, he was lying in a coffin, dressed in a plain, all-black suit. His cheeks were sunken, eyes closed and dark. Lined with gray satin and made of black wood, the coffin looked like something he’d actually choose to be buried in.
Like it was real.
I stepped back and nearly stumbled as all the feeling in my body evaporated.
“Shit.”
The reflection’s eyes opened and locked on Rooke. A chill shot through me, and I scrambled backwards. Rooke didn’t move.
The reflection crawled out of the glass and materialized into the game. It looked like him, except its cheeks were too sunken, and its eyes were soulless. Rooke stared at himself. Unblinking. Unbreathing.
Paralyzed with absolute fear.
My initial shock solidified into resolution. My teeth gritted, brow furrowed, and I felt my own expression morph into one of pure vehemence.
I drew my sword and charged. The reflection remained locked on Rooke, even as I raced toward it and reeled back, preparing to slam my blade home.
In a blink, its arm moved in a blur of black smoke. An open palm slammed into my chest, launching me into the air. I flew back several feet until I smashed into the ground with a sickening smack. A groan escaped my lips as the pain blossomed in every corner of my body. My head throbbed. My ribs and sternum ached, feeling like I’d been hit with a sledgehammer instead of an open-palm strike. Despite it all, my hand instinctively groped around for my sword. About a foot away, lying in the street, my blade glimmered in the moonlight. My fingers closed around the hilt, and I smiled.
A horn rang out overhead.
Oh, damn it. The flag. The game was still in play. What the hell was I doing?
Two members of Sanctum stood right next to our base, one of them glowing with our flag. Their eyes were squinted and locked on Rooke’s ghost, like they didn’t understand what was happening. I stumbled to my feet, sword in hand. We locked eyes. Theirs widened. They both turned and started to run.
So did I.
“Rooke!” I screeched as I took off down the street. I didn’t look back as I pursued Sanctum, but no footsteps followed from behind.
Great. Alone.
Again.
I chased Sanctum down the street, gaining with every step, the flag carrier just out of reach. His teammate abruptly turned to attack, unsheathing his weapon as he rotated. I slipped under his arm and pounced on the flag carrier, stabbing repeatedly into his back. He cried out and crumpled to the ground. The glow faded from his body, and our flag reset.
Footsteps echoed down the street. Two blocks up, Hannah and Derek were running our flag in, their pursuers close behind.
We had a chance to score.
I stood.
A blade ripped through my side, slicing deep into my abdomen. So stupid. The player who had been guarding the flag was still in the game. I’d let myself get distracted by the sight of my own team and the taste of victory drawing near.
I dropped to the ground, closed my eyes, and went limp, faking my demise. Footsteps sounded away from me, headed for the rest of my team. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes and patted the pavement around me as I lay on my back. Blood puddled against my left side, growing brighter with the passing seconds. It was funny, really, when I thought about it. Rooke had faced his own death, and now I was the one bleeding out in the middle of the street. Was that irony? Or just tragedy?
Darkness pooled around the edges of my sight and wavered, threatening to close in and swallow me whole. I grunted and strained against it. I shook my head and kicked my feet, whatever it took to keep conscious inside the game.
The fight played out in my peripheral vision.
Rooke still stood in front of the glass. Lily was nowhere to be seen. She must have been out of the game. It was down to Hannah and Derek. Their cries and commands reverberated in my ear as broken, muffled sounds so only their voices were recognizable, not their words.
They scrambled around the flag. A clash of swords. A spray of blood. It was chaos. They were struggling.
I had to fight. I had to help.
I rolled onto my side. Pain coursed through my entire body, blurring my vision and grinding my molars together. A sound left my mouth, a bitter, gurgled wail. It was a warning.
My body was about to give out.
I braced a hand against the pavement and fought the darkness closing in, the crushing hand of unconsciousness.
No.
Stay. Awake.
I slapped a hand against the pavement and grunted, hoping it would help in my struggle. As the sound escaped my lips, I realized something.
Maybe it wouldn’t just help my struggle.
I smashed my hand on the pavement and started yelling as loud as the air in my lungs would allow. I must have looked like a flaili
ng idiot, but maybe I could distract one of our opponents. Even just a head turn could give my team the advantage. And it worked. Except, the head that turned was not the one I’d expected.
Rooke jerked back to life. Drawing the pair of short swords from his back, he spun and sliced right through his reflection. The blades slid through nothing but smoke, but the reflection screamed a horrifying scream, one that sounded like a thousand voices dying in agony, all at once. It dropped to its knees and faded out of the game.
Rooke stared at the spot where his reflection had been. Then he turned, and his eyes landed on me. They went soft, then hard. Really hard. I’d like to say that he raced into the fight, but really he forced himself into it, like he was straining against his own soul-consuming rage. Whether he was mad at the game or himself, I wasn’t sure, but he was about to take it out on Inner Sanctum.
He dropped his swords and headed into the fight bare-handed. He marched straight up behind Hannah’s attacker, cocked back his fist, and bashed the back of his skull. The attacker went down, and Rooke followed him, whaling on the guy’s neck. Another attacker pounced on Rooke’s back. His elbow jabbed back, catching the guy in the ribs. He stumbled, coughing, gripping his side. Before he could recover, Rooke retrieved a discarded dagger from the pavement and plowed into him, driving the blade up from navel to sternum.
Damn.
Hannah stood there for a minute, stunned.
You’ve got a blocker, I mentally screamed at her. Go for the end zone.
Did I just make a football reference?
Hannah bolted.
Someone slammed into her, knocking her off balance. Rooke ripped him off and tossed him to the side. Literally tossed him, like he was a bale of hay, and started pounding on him, too, just like the first guy. Hannah hesitated for a second, still gaping at Rooke. Then she scrambled to her feet and crossed over to our base.
There. We’d scored.
We’d won.
I heaved a final breath, and gave in to the darkness. My eyes snapped open, and I was looking at the shimmering interior of the pod. We’d made it. Another victory. Another step up through the tournament.
Just barely.
My pod doors opened in sync with everyone else’s, but Derek burst out of his pod before the doors were even fully open.
“What the hell happened there, defense?”
His head swiveled back and forth between me and Rooke several times. Rooke said nothing. He sat on the edge of his pod, staring down at the floor. The look on his face was so distant, I wasn’t sure if he even realized where he was or that someone was talking to him.
I ignored Derek, crossed the room, and knelt before Rooke.
“Are you okay?”
Rooke still stared at the floor, his eyes full of everything and nothing.
“Hey.”
I placed a hand on either side of his head and forced it up until his gaze met mine. I dropped my hands to his shoulders and squeezed.
“Are you okay?” I repeated, emphasizing every word.
He still said nothing. Just gave me one shake of his head before he stood, pushed past me, and left the room.
“What happened to him in the game?” Hannah asked, as the door whooshed shut behind him.
“He . . . saw something.”
“What?”
I looked to the door, where Rooke had just left.
“His future,” I said. “If he’s not careful.”
• • •
His bedroom door was shut.
I wasn’t sure if he’d talk to me, but I had to check on him. After seeing that, after seeing himself in a coffin, who wouldn’t be disturbed? And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t at least try?
I knocked on the door. The sound echoed and was answered by silence. Please just open the door. But it remained shut.
After several seconds of silence, I sighed and turned away.
“Come in.”
I halted. He was letting me in. I opened the door.
Rooke was pacing at the foot of his bed again, the way he usually did when he felt trapped or was confronted with too many emotions. But this time, his brow was furrowed, and his steps were purposeful, as if he was deep in thought.
I took two steps into the room and stopped, keeping several feet between us. I wasn’t going to bombard him, but we needed to talk.
“Look,” I said slowly, calmly. “I don’t know if you want time alone, but I think we need to talk about—”
“It’s challenging us with things we fear.”
I blinked. Not what I was expecting him to say, but at least he was saying something. He stopped pacing and met my eyes. The emptiness within was gone, replaced with certainty. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He was talking. That’s what mattered.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The new pods. They’re using our fears to challenge us inside the game.”
“So,” I began, trying to follow his line of thinking, “you think the pods are finding things that every team is afraid of, then realizing those fears in physical form, all inside the game.”
“No, not all the teams. Just us.”
I slowly shook my head. “Last week every team faced off against that machine. And I bet if you watch this week, everyone will face . . . what you saw.”
“Every team is facing these things,” he agreed, “but they’re based on our fears. Not theirs.”
I blinked and drew a slow breath. Was this some sort of paranoia from the drugs and his withdrawal? But I didn’t want to discourage him. This was the most he’d talked in weeks.
“Lots of people fear machines,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. “Lots of people fear death. That’s not specific to us.”
“It is.” He started pacing again. “I know it is.”
“Okay,” I said, playing along. “Why would the game do that? Why would it target us and no one else?”
“I don’t know.” He tossed his arms up. “Maybe they’re trying to knock us out of the tournament, or make us feel like we shouldn’t be here, so we end up losing.”
“Why would they invite us in if it was just to knock us out?”
“To lower our morale. To embarrass us. To bankrupt us.”
I considered that. I still didn’t buy into it, but I wanted to keep him talking. “You think the VGL doesn’t want us competing?”
“I think they don’t want you competing.” We locked eyes, and he took a step toward me. “You’re not afraid to challenge corruption or the problems in this sport. That could hurt their ratings. Their stock.” He cleared his throat. “Their image.”
He was talking about the VGL, but I had a feeling that last comment was a stab at yours truly.
“Okay, I’ll admit that this is all very suspicious, but I have no proof. Besides, why would they be so afraid of me? I’m one person.”
“Sometimes that’s all it takes. One person who doesn’t back down. They know you won’t, so they have to do something about it.”
I scoffed and crossed my arms. “So, they create an entire tournament and invite teams from around the world just to set me up?”
“No, I think the tournament was legit. I mean, they’re making plenty of money from it. Bringing you into this was just a bonus.”
I deflated a bit. “So, if it is true, we really don’t deserve to be in this tournament.” I sat on the edge of his bed. “Doesn’t matter. We don’t have any proof of anything. Besides, what are we going to do? Whine about it?”
He sat next to me on the bed. “I don’t know what to do, but that doesn’t make it fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.” My voice went up several decibels as the words left my mouth. “You can complain about it, or you can toughen up and own it.”
I immediately clamp
ed my lips shut. Damn it. I’d said that because I meant it—because I was passionate about tackling problems head-on. But, technically, I’d implied that he was whining, and the last thing I wanted to do was shut him down.
He studied me for a long time, then the floor, then the walls, then finally he turned back to me. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe the NPCs in the game are just there by coincidence. They are common fears.”
“Either way, it’s still a good challenge.”
He chuckled. “Only you would consider looking death in the face a challenge.”
I laughed, and we locked eyes again. Something passed between us, a weird feeling that I could only describe as someone striking a chord inside my soul. Whatever it was, it was warm. Comforting. Not the standard hostility that had existed between us over the last several weeks.
I kept talking, in the hopes of keeping him talking.
“To be honest, I almost didn’t come here. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk with me.”
“For a while, I didn’t.” His voice was tight.
“Can I ask why?”
He met my eyes. “You want the truth?”
I nodded.
“I was pissed.”
Well, that was obvious.
“Because I reported the test?” I guessed.
“Because you cared more about what other people thought than what I did. You had to know what the press was saying, but you didn’t ask me what I thought about it.”
My stomach sunk. He’d been so shut off and snappy, I figured he didn’t want to talk to me about it. But really, he was my friend. I shouldn’t have assumed, and I should have put him first.
“I know it seems shallow to watch the gossip channels,” I began, “but I was trying to protect—”
“I know what you were trying to do, but you can’t control the crowd. People are going to say whatever they want. They’ll love you today and hate you tomorrow. You shouldn’t care what other people think, but if you do, make sure it’s the ones that matter. Your teammates matter.”
I nodded, letting the words sink in. “How do I do that? How do I show that you guys are more important to me?”
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