by Drew Hayes
“This is idiotic; you can’t really expect to win with just running after me blindly,” Rich pointed out. Since he was powerful and quick, his own overwhelming ability hadn’t provided much practice with thinking in terms of strategy. Or in knowing the importance of silence when an opponent is tracking by sound.
“Actually, I can’t lose,” Roy disagreed.
“How do you figure?”
“Simple math. No time limit plus my endless endurance minus your very human ability to get tired equal an eventual hit.”
“No, it... that’s crazy. You’re just imitating Nick’s antics.”
“Important difference: I’m not Nick and you’re not Chad. For him it was a way to stay in the game; for me it neutralizes your ability completely. Sooner or later I’ll connect, and once is all it takes.” With that, Roy rocketed toward Rich once more, powerful legs pounding quickly across the concrete. He missed by a healthy margin, running even faster as he passed Rich’s now slightly-panicked form. When he struck the wall he didn’t pause, he merely reoriented himself and dashed forward again, bounding forth like a well-muscled ping-pong ball. Rich was able to duck this charge too, but as he moved onto safer ground he found himself taking a deeper breath than normal.
He watched the madman smack into concrete and take off again and a slow realization began to sink through Rich’s brain. Roy was right. He didn’t get tired, hitting the wall didn’t hurt him, and there was no clock running that would end things for them. Eventually he’d get lucky or Rich would get worn out. It was a useless strategy in a real fight, but under only these circumstances it was a bit of insane brilliance.
Rich’s respect for his opponent rose right along with his fear of the situation he’d put himself in.
* * *
“Oooh, nearly got him that time,” Nick said cheerfully as the group watched Rich flail out of the way against yet another of Roy’s assaults.
“He’s getting pretty worn out,” Mary said, narrating the battle with the aid of mental eavesdropping. “He’s already beginning to wonder how many more dodges he has left in him.”
“Doesn’t help that Roy seems to be getting more accurate,” Alex pointed out.
“It’s a vicious cycle that works in our favor,” Nick explained. “The more tired Rich gets, the harder he breathes, the harder he breathes, the easier he is to locate by sound, the easier he is to locate by sound, the more accurate Roy gets, which leads to more dodging and more exhaustion.”
“I can’t believe beating someone like Rich is this simple,” Alex said.
“It isn’t. There are ridiculously few situations where you can close your eyes and just swing ‘til you miss. The cell, the rules, and the pairing all worked together to make this viable. Plus, of us all, Roy is the only one more or less immune to a normal human’s capacity for physical damage. That means Rich has no venue for counterattack. If it was anyone else on this team he probably would have come up with and launched some sort of assault. Might not have worked, but he would have had a shot.”
“This was your goal all along, wasn’t it? Literally, this specific match,” Mary asked.
Nick nodded. “Most of the others would shake out more or less the same if we did them a hundred times. This was a bad team for us to fight: they had two people that used techniques we had no immunity to, and one of our best fighters was stuck on the bench due to circumstance.”
“Who?”
“Vince. The only person on Team Two with physical abilities is Chad, who would crush Vince. The others are either girls, opponents who lack any enhanced abilities regarding their body, or those who are able to nullify an opponent through sound or sight. That knack of his for taking it to another level when protecting people cuts both ways. He holds back too much when he feels like his opponent is significantly weaker. In trying not to be a bully, he would underestimate them and get caught by surprise. I thought seeing Camille go down might give him an extra push, but I guess putting him against a girl just made him determined not to see a repeat of what happened to her.”
“Hey, he almost beat Selena,” Alex countered.
“That he did, in the most non-combative way possible. Haven’t you wondered why he didn’t just blast her with electricity before he fell too deep under her spell?”
“I thought he was focusing on the heat.”
“Which would have been unnecessary with the application of a ranged tasering. No, he didn’t want to hurt her. It would have played like that in pretty much any match. The only variable here was Rich. I knew he could beat any one of us in an open situation; however, in one like this... oh look, I think Roy’s about to prove my point for me.”
* * *
It had been a matter of inches. Rich almost wished it had been more of a margin so that he couldn’t look back and chide himself for not moving just that little bit faster. He could visualize it perfectly. Not that it made any difference in his current situation. He winced as he felt the grip around his forearm tighten.
“Hmm, feels pretty thin. I’ll have to be careful with this,” Roy said, a note of malicious glee almost palpable in his voice.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” Rich replied. “You can’t just crush my head. You can’t use lethal force.”
“True. However, the other option is just to make you forfeit. And last I checked, nobody has ever died from repeated breaks to the arms. At least, not immediately.”
“You’re bluffing. That’s torture.”
Roy tightened his grip several degrees more. “Maybe I am. But I bet I’m willing to go further to win this than you want to find out.”
Rich looked at the calm determination etched on his opponent’s face, and all at once he found himself believing Roy implicitly. “I give up!”
“This match’s winner is Roy Daniels,” Professor Fletcher announced.
“You’re damn right it is,” Roy agreed.
120.
Vince didn’t snap back to consciousness as much as he sluggishly drifted into it. Whether the gradual awakening was an effect of the blow to his head or Selena’s song would be difficult to determine without trial and error, a method Vince wouldn’t be terribly eager to engage in. He blinked a few times as the smooth white tiles of the infirmary ceiling slowly came into focus. It took a moment, but eventually he figured out that he’d been laid down on one of the cushy cots for healing treatment. With great care he began to pull himself up to a sitting position. He might not remember smacking his face to the concrete, but the dull ache at the apex of his temple and forehead told the story quite well. Vince had taken enough knocks on the noggin to know that sometimes reorienting yourself came with dizziness and motion sickness.
This time, thankfully, he didn’t encounter any serious trouble. Now that his torso was upright, he could look around the room. The first thing he saw was also the last, because it so utterly ensnared his focus that all thoughts of observing his surroundings were abandoned. It was, of course, Camille, positioned a few feet away from him and still sleeping soundly. She’d been cleaned up and bandaged, but from the looks of the unmended scratches on her face, she hadn’t been healed yet. Her rest seemed peaceful, so Vince assumed she’d at least been given something for the pain. It still didn’t quite explain why she was still untreated.
“Oh, you’re up already,” said a male voice from behind him.
Vince turned to see a fellow student who looked familiar but whose name either escaped or had never been known to Vince in the first place. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ed, one of the healers on staff today. And you should take it easy, that was a pretty nasty hit you got.”
“I’m fine,” Vince assured him. “Why hasn’t Camille been healed yet?”
“Her injuries weren’t life threatening, so I treated her, gave her some pain meds, and made sure she was comfortable until she woke up.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t heal her,” Vince said, swinging his feet to the ground and pulling himself to a st
anding position. He realized he might have looked more intimidating than intended when Ed took a few rapid steps backward.
“Look, I wasn’t trying to neglect her or anything. It’s just that with those injuries to her face I thought it would be better to let her heal herself. My power only accelerates the body’s own processes, so it can leave scars. From what I’ve seen, hers negates every injury entirely. I just thought she would prefer it that way.”
“I can understand that.” Although Vince wasn’t especially vain, he did get the concept as a whole. “I must say, it’s a little surprising that they’d have a match day with only one healer, especially one with your limitations.”
“There’s an actual healer on staff who oversees us,” Ed corrected. “She likes to let us do most of the work, since we’re the ones getting trained. Unfortunately, there was a bit of an incident with the other group, so she was pulled away to the cells.”
“I see.” Vince turned his attention back to his Camille, who stirred softly as she readjusted.
“We’ve got two other students as well, but one had her own project to work on today, and obviously Camille was in the matches.”
“Camille works down here?”
“Sure, all the healer students do. It’s part of our training,” Ed explained. “Plus, it saves the staff from having to hire more than one dedicated person with healing abilities. Those can be pretty expensive.”
“Where does she find the time?” Vince wondered aloud. His head throbbed once more, and unconsciously he reached up to touch the tender area. He was a bit surprised to find his fingers brushing gauze rather than skin. “You didn’t heal me either?”
“Just a bit of a patching up.”
“I’d like to be healed now, please.”
“Are you sure? That gash you got along with the impact was pretty deep. If I use my power you’ll end up with a scar by the hairline on your temple. Camille will probably be up soon.”
“I don’t care about the scar. Just heal me, please.” Vince could deal with scars; he’d had an abundance of them before the incident when he was sixteen. What he couldn’t deal with was the knowledge that something could be affecting his head. He’d come a long a way in getting comfortable with his powers; however, anything that might inadvertently make him lose control was far too dangerous to tolerate. Especially with innocent people so close by.
“I guess it’s your choice,” Ed agreed reluctantly. He walked over and carefully pressed his fingers onto Vince’s forehead. There was a moment of nothing, and then Vince felt as though the wound was being swarmed by mosquito bites. It itched beyond description, beyond even understanding. Before he could cry out, let alone try to scratch it, the sensation was gone.
“Sorry about that. I know it’s pretty unpleasant, but it works.”
Vince tenderly pulled off the bandage and felt around. Sure enough, there was no tenderness or pain anywhere on his noggin. Ed’s method might not be as painless as Camille’s, but it did still produce results.
“Thank you.”
“It’s what I’m here for. You’re free to go now; we were only holding you until the wound was treated.”
“I’ll stay here until Camille wakes up, if that’s all right.” Vince’s tone and expression were both the peak of politeness; however, there was a buried edge in his voice that told Ed one way or another he was staying, so it had damned well better be all right.
“Sure, no rules against it, but don’t you want to know how your team did?”
“I’m certain they’ll come straight here as soon the match is concluded,” Vince said. “Besides, I already know how it ended. We tied.”
Ed cocked an eyebrow of curiosity. “You a telepath?”
Vince smiled at him in reply. “No. I just know my friends.” He pulled a hard plastic chair over from the wall and set it next to Camille’s bed. It became evident within seconds that it would be an intensely uncomfortable place to sit while he waited. That was okay; Vince was well acquainted with discomfort. He settled in and trained his eyes on his wounded teammate. He would be here when she woke up.
He owed her that much at least.
121.
Nick had just finished putting on his regular shoes when Professor Pendleton entered the locker room. The uniform boots, much like the rest of the Lander mandatory outfits, were comfortable and functional, but whoever designed them didn’t have much regard for fashion. Not that Nick could throw stones: his above-ground garb was a t-shirt, jeans, and bright green sneakers. He’d have been turned away from his own casino in this outfit, but it was a necessary camouflage to blend in.
“You didn’t want to go to the infirmary with your friends?” Professor Pendleton asked.
“Nah. I know Vince and Camille are fine, we’ve got good people on staff here. Besides, standing around awkwardly, trying to acknowledge someone got hurt without talking about it, that’s not my idea of a good time. I’ll swoop by after things have settled down a bit.”
“I can appreciate the validity of that strategy. Speaking of, how do you think things went today?”
“Are you fucking kidding? We pulled out a tie against Chad’s team and I didn’t have to sacrifice a single team secret to do it. I’m not even religious and I feel like I should be lighting a saint candle in thanks.”
“It was a pretty surprising outcome. I got a briefing from Professor Fletcher. One thing struck me, however; it seemed like if you’d let Camille use her full power you would have won.” Professor Pendleton settled down on a nearby bench as they talked. Given his tall, lanky frame, he looked more like a squatting bird as he hunkered down on the low-seated wooden plank.
“First off, getting Camille to use her ability would have been a fight in itself. Even if she’d agreed, it would have been halfhearted and hesitant because Vince was watching. But if, and that’s a big if, she’d managed to win, it would have just put Chad into defensive mode. He would have played it safer, used Will or Rich in the two-person team as support instead of letting them run their own matches. If she’d done it and lost then we’d have gotten the same outcome, plus we’d be down a match.”
“Well-reasoned,” Professor Pendleton agreed. “I take it Camille’s match was also a play to get Will sent out?”
Nick nodded. “That kind of shit leaves a foul taste in anyone’s mouth. Will doesn’t have bad blood with any of us. Hell, all of us consider him a friend. He was the logical choice to make sure there wasn’t a repeat of what happened with Camille and Sasha.”
“I think we can all be glad that was an isolated incident. The Mary and Alice pairing was quite a cunning move, I must say. You hid her new ability and utilized it at the same time.”
“Yeah, I owe Alex some thanks for that one. Until he pulled his trick I had no idea how I was going to convince those girls to pair up for the match.”
“You intended to put them together before you thought of hiding Alice’s power?”
“Sure. My biggest fear was that Chad would play Rich in response to someone we sent out. Camille neutralized the first opportunity for that by forcing Sasha out and Alice neutralized the second.”
“Why would Alice stop him from using Rich?”
“Because of what happened at Halloween. Assuming Chad believes Rich didn’t induce a dead-mother-based fantasy on purpose, which given Rich’s lack of constant bruises seems like a fair assumption, he would never willfully put Alice under Rich’s spell again. If he didn’t mean to do it, then there’s no guarantee it won’t happen again. Chad has a parent he never knew, too. He won’t risk putting Alice through that pain again, not unless he has to,” Nick explained.
“I see; so Alice ensures he won’t be sent out in round two, and by then it doesn’t matter because if Chad nominates Rich you play Roy, and if he uses Selena you play Vince,” Professor Pendleton said, continuing the path of logic.
“Bingo. Selena’s match was lost to us anyway, as was anyone Vince tangled with, so I just had to make sure and condense the l
osses as much as possible. Little bastard surprised me, for a minute I thought he was going to pull off a win.” Nick finished tying his shoes and stood up from the smooth bench. His back made a dull crackling sound as he rose, reminding him that he’d neglected his stretching exercises as of late.
“Yes. That loss was... unfortunate.”
Nick felt something is his mind bristle. There had been a pause, a hint of a tone almost imperceptible in the way Professor Pendleton said ‘unfortunate.’
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just saying it was too bad he couldn’t have pulled that off. It would have given your team an actual win rather than a draw. And, of course, winning against someone like Selena would have reflected well on Vince’s record.” Professor Pendleton’s smile was casual and his words were light, but his eyes were locked steadily on Nick’s face. It was the body language of someone trying to say something without actually saying it. Fortunately, Nick was well-versed in the art of subtle communication.
“True, Selena has placed quite well on most challenges. Of course, Vince is no slouch himself.”
“Well, he tries his best,” Professor Pendleton said. “His only wins during his time at Lander have been against Michael Clark earlier this year and when he and Alex teamed up against Thomas Castillo in the freshman midterm. You can see why it would have been quite a coup if he’d gotten the better of a high performer like Selena.”
“Only two wins? I feel like it’s been more than that.”
“You’re no doubt including last year’s kidnapping as well as some extracurricular events which I can neither encourage nor officially know about, but unfortunately only official matches can be used for student evaluation.” Professor Pendleton’s eyes were practically bursting out of his sockets by now. Nick had to assume the professor’s fear centered on being overheard more than being watched.
“I’m sure he’ll get to strut his stuff in our last team event,” Nick assured him.