My outfit abruptly brightens, returning once again to the skimpy white get-up. My lips part in dismay.
“Pretend like this was planned,” Taro says into my ear. “You have to make Global look good.”
He’s right. At least my feet are bare and they didn’t put me back in the glasses. I focus on this small triumph, forcing my face to relax and running my hands along my hips and waist, as if I’m at home in the awful dress. I crinkle my eyes in what I hope looks like amusement—like this is all part of the show, even though I feel like I’ve just been trampled. The crowd cheers.
Inside, I say goodbye to Gun. There’s no telling when I’ll see him again.
5
Press Conference
As I stand there, missing my friend, a fifth avatar materializes beside us.
It’s Claudine Winn, and she’s as tall as the rest of us. She’s in a long navy blue dress that ends at her ankles in a flounce of ruffles. Small white polka dots cover the dark fabric. A blood-red headband holds hair away from her face. Despite the fact I’ve spent the last few years loathing the sight of her, seeing her avatar is something of a comfort after seeing her wasted real-world body.
I study her, looking for a sign of displeasure at Gun’s antics. Her face is smooth and relaxed, no sign of anger or agitation anywhere on her features.
“Welcome!” Claudine says, her voice projected to fill Infinity Stadium. “Are you ready to meet our young heroes?”
The crowd roars in approval. It takes several minutes before they collectively settle back, the noise dwindling. Hank draws the four of us back so that we stand in a tight circle near the center of the dais.
Claudine moves around the dais, her body animated as she speaks. She gives a lively description of each of us: Sulan, the math prodigy, daughter of the renowned Dr. Hom; Henrietta Simmons, talented hacker; Billy Long, infamous Black Tech programmer; and Taro Hudanus, the young warrior who has been trained as a warrior since childhood.
She pauses after each description, letting the crowd roar its approval. I flex my bare toes and put on my best smile.
“And now,” Claudine says, “the part you’ve all been waiting for. Live footage of events surrounding their heroic slaying of Imugi.”
Cheers from the crowd swell. A giant two-hundred-foot hologram appears above us.
I expect to see our faces in the hologram. Instead, I’m greeted with soundless footage of Riska. The camera is zoomed in on him as he flattens his ears and bares his teeth, feet digging into the black fabric of a merc suit.
I instantly know when this video was taken; there’s only one time in my life when I’ve been allowed to wear a merc suit.
“This is from our kidnapping,” I murmur to Taro, staring at the hologram. “The day we first met.” Sure enough, a moment later the frame pans out to show my profile as I’m escorted by Taro to the top of our apartment building in San Francisco. Riska rides on my shoulder.
“What you see here is cutting-edge technology from Global Arms,” Claudine says, narrating the video. “This is a genetically engineered animal crafted by the mind of Dr. Hom. We call it a Risk Alleviator. He’s designed to provide personal protection to his owner. Sulan Hom received this prototype Risk Alleviator from Global as an extra measure of security. You will see how this technology saved her life and the lives of her friends.”
The footage is unsteady and often out of focus, but whoever is filming keeps the camera centered on Riska. From the angle, I can only guess the unseen cameraperson was on a nearby building rooftop.
“The Risk Alleviator can spray venom from his mouth,” Claudine says. The video segues into a picture of a dead Asian man. “This is the face of a Leaguer after he attacked Sulan. The Risk Alleviator saved her life.”
The dead man’s face is horribly mutilated by dark red streaks where the venom eroded his flesh. Bits of skin around the bloody parts are blistered. His mouth is open in a silent cry of agony. Parts of his navy blue ski mask are stuck to his face.
I can’t let anyone—not anyone—see how deeply this footage cuts at me. The kidnapping feels real all over again. Memories of the fear and panic of that moment threaten to overwhelm me. I straighten my spine, throwing all my willpower into maintaining an expressionless exterior.
The picture of the dead Leaguer fades away, replaced again by the footage from the attack.
“And these,” Claudine says, gesturing as three Gavs fly into view, “are more biological creations of Dr. Hom. We call them Green Attack Vehicles, Gavs for short. They are our first generation of biological tanks. You will see how they played a key role in rescuing our young heroes from the League.”
No chance of anyone forgetting this is a Global-sponsored event, I think.
The video keeps playing. Not everything is visible from the cameraperson’s angle, but most of the rooftop attack is captured.
I see myself dragged through the air by a cord made from synthetic diamonds. Taro hangs from my hands like a superhero, following me up in the belly of the League chopper. The audience is hushed as they watch the scene unfold. How much did the Winns pay to obtain this video?
I can’t watch anymore so I shift my gaze away. The beat of the helicopter and the patter of gunshots assault my ears.
“And now,” Claudine says, “you will see the Risk Alleviator in action. Each Risk Alleviator has the ability to excrete a tracking pheromone from their claws. As soon as the animal sensed Sulan was in trouble, he scratched her and excreted the pheromone.”
Riska is a smudge against the sky as the camera films him flying away. He disappears from sight as the angle of the building cuts him off from view.
“The Risk Alleviator tracked Sulan to a freighter ship off the coast of California. This footage was taken from a security loop on the League ship. It was recovered by our extraction team, which was led by Dr. Hom. He selected a Gav prototype for this important mission to rescue his daughter.”
Our extraction team. Yeah, right. Global didn’t send help for us. And the Gav prototype Dad selected for the mission? He stole it from the Global compound before picking up Mom, Aston, and Uncle Zed to rescue us. I knew Global would take the credit for our rescue, but it’s still galling to witness.
Riska is once again on the giant holograms—running upside down through a corridor on the ship. I stare, amazed. Riska can’t run upside down. Can he?
Dad hinted Riska had other abilities, but surely I would have known he could hang from the ceiling like a gecko. Dad also hadn’t said anything about taking security footage from the League ship, but it would be the sort of thing he’d think of. This is the same person who thought it would be a good idea to equip our other rescuers with tiny cameras, after all. He knew Global would grant us pardons if he had something valuable to trade.
“The Risk Alleviator eluded capture and located Sulan,” Claudine says. “A tracking beacon embedded under his skin allowed the Global extraction team to follow him. The Gav evaded the surveillance of the League, which searched only for old-fashioned electronic war crafts, not biological vehicles. Our team soon found our kidnapped teens—and the remains of Imugi.”
Next is a series of jumbled clips. There’s footage of Mom hugging me and Aston hugging Taro, followed by a still shot of Imugi’s dead body. His bloody form is heaped with a pile of other dead Leaguers. His iconic white SmartPlastic mask stares eerily out at the crowd. On the left side of the mask is a blue sea serpent, Imugi’s signature. At the sight of his body, the audience erupts into thunderous applause.
I force myself to stare at Imugi’s face, recalling his merciless eyes when he ordered Taro’s finger to be chopped off. I won’t let anyone see how much it curdles my insides to be confronted with his image. This isn’t for Global’s sake, but for mine.
“The Global extraction team brought our young heroes home,” Claudine continues. “Using the Gav, they flew them to the safety of our biodome.”
More video clips follow: the four of us crawling across the cable
from the League freighter to the Gav, followed by Dad helping each of us inside.
I brace myself, expecting Claudine to show the footage of the League ship blowing up. But she doesn’t. Instead, there’s a final clip of Dad sliding into the driver’s seat of the Gav and flying away.
The hologram fades into blackness. Excited whispers ripple through the audience, followed by an enormous boom.
Red, white, and blue fireworks explode above us. The sparks shower down, pattering onto the stage at our feet.
At first I think this is all part of the show. Then I see the mad scrambling of the cybermercs. Half of them sprout wings and fly up toward the light show. The other half tighten their circle around us, once again activating the electronic nets.
Meanwhile, on the floor in front of us, the firework sparks form the outline of a man. His avatar towers over all of us, even Taro. One last shower of red-white-and-blue fireworks fill the air, larger and more blinding than all the others combined. The form before us coalesces into a well-built, middle-aged black man with waist-length dreadlocks. He’s dressed in a pressed brown suit with yellow pinstripes. I immediately recognize the avatar. He’s as iconic as Mr. Winn.
William Anderson—the owner of Anderson Arms and Global’s biggest arms rival—stands before Infinity Stadium with a smug smile on his face.
6
William Anderson
The cybermercs form a tight circle around Anderson’s towering avatar. They raise their arms and take aim with the wrist cuffs. Small bursts of light shoot out, battering Anderson from all sides. I can only guess the bursts of light are programming code of some kind, designed to unravel unwanted avatars.
Anderson’s avatar remains solid and unaffected by the counterattack, the light bullets smacking into a shield around him and dispersing into a starburst of sparkles. He raises both arms as though to embrace the audience, grinning at the people as the cybermercs continue their assault.
“Fellow citizens of America, do not be fooled by the gimmicks of Global Arms,” he says, voice booming over the crowd. “Reginald Winn wants you all to be awed by these supposed inventions, but the truth of the matter is that he’s exploiting four young people who have undergone a traumatic experience. He doesn’t care about these kids. All he cares about is how he can use their accomplishments to push Global merchandise.”
The cybermerc counterattack finally makes a breach. One of the light bullets breaks through the shield and connects with Anderson. A seizure of static rips across his avatar.
Anderson holds up his index finger, lips moving, trying to make a point none of us can hear. Another shower of bullets hits him. A second later, his avatar shorts out and disappears.
Claudine smiles, stepping into the spot previously occupied by the arms dealer.
“My apologies for that little interruption,” she says. “As our competitor says, the amazing young men and women you see before you have undergone a traumatic experience. How they turned this terrifying situation into an opportunity to take down America’s biggest enemy is a story for another day. Soon they will be sharing the details of their trying experience with the country. But now it’s time for them to be reunited with their families.
“Global has the technology to keep American citizens safe from the League. The creations you’ve seen today are part of our Green Combat program. In the coming weeks, you will learn more about the exciting Global technology that helped rescue our young heroes, and how Green Combat technology can be leveraged to protect every citizen in this great country.”
Claudine tilts her head, signaling an end to her speech. The crowd erupts into applause.
• • •
“Excellent job, all of you!” Mr. Winn’s voice booms in my ears as the press conference ends and we return to the real-world.
I pause for a brief beat before removing my Vex set, taking a few precious seconds to get my churning emotions under control. I don’t have to like how I’m being used, but I do want to maintain my composure. When I’m certain my face is expressionless, I pull off my Vex set and force myself to look at Mr. Winn.
Oddly, he looks amused. Between Gun and William Anderson, this press conference could not have been more of a train wreck. Why isn’t he mad?
“I love your spunk,” he says to me. “Smashing the glasses with your shoes—that was well played.” Even through the rolls of fat surrounding his eyes, I see his sharp gaze scrutinizing me.
I suspect he knows my well-played action wasn’t for Global’s benefit. He’s not calling me on it though, so I nod briskly at him.
“Your friend put on a good show for the crowd,” he continues. “Wish I’d thought of a stunt like that.” He glances at Kerry. “File that away for future reference, Ms. Sturgess. Black Tech stunts are always a crowd pleaser.”
Kerry nods so vigorously it’s a wonder her head doesn’t fall off.
I knot my hands in Riska’s fur. What does Mr. Winn mean by friend? Is he being sarcastic? He couldn’t know that avatar was Gun. He doesn’t even know about Gun. Does he?
“We haven’t been able to track his Virtual Identity,” Claudine snarls, screen rotating to glare at me. “The VI track was mangled—”
“It’s of little consequence,” Mr. Winn says, smoothly interrupting his niece. “The crowd liked it, and I daresay Miss Hom looked as striking in her merc suit as she did in the outfit Kerry assembled for her.”
My gaze whips toward Kerry. So she’s the one responsible for the stripper look. Riska, hunched in my lap, growls and lashes his tail.
“The Anderson breach, however, is an entirely different matter.” Mr. Winn’s voice grows cold and hard. “I want the matter investigated. I want to know exactly how that could have happened. I want to know what’s going to be done to stop breaches like that in the future.” He directs this at Claudine. “Get the techs working on it. Now.”
The wheelchair executes a perfect three-point turn. The screen swivels, enabling Claudine to see throughout the maneuver. She rolls through a door at the back of the room.
“Follow me,” she snaps as she rolls out of sight.
Four gray-shirted techs drop what they’re doing and scurry after her. The door slides shut behind them. It’s like they’ve been swallowed by a giant monster.
My friends and I exchange glances. Hank is the only one who doesn’t look like she’s been dragged through an old-fashioned paper shredder. Riska’s ears are flat, his tail lashing.
“I hope you all enjoyed your taste of the limelight,” Mr. Winn says, drawing our attention away from the awkward silence left by his niece. “The public loves its heroes.” A tech worker scurries over and hands a tablet to Mr. Winn. He thumbs through it, a smug expression on his face.
“You four are the number one trending topic in Vex sites right now,” he says. “Mr. Hudanus, in the last thirty minutes, exactly three hundred and four Vex fan sites have been established in your honor. Sites for mercenary boarding schools have seen their traffic triple since the beginning of the press conference. Miss Simmons, you’ve set a fashion trend. One hundred eighteen Vex sites have started selling chain-mail Axcents for avatars. Mr. Long, demand for Uncle Zed Black Tech is at an all-time high. People are desperate for it. Without your uncle out there to sell it, second-hand dealers are popping up all over Vex. And you, Miss Hom. You and the Risk Alleviator have become the idols of teen girls everywhere. Several role-playing sites are already underway, where enthusiasts will have their own Risk Alleviators to help them battle League agents.”
Mr. Winn hands the tablet back to the gray-shirted worker who’s been hovering beside him all this time. “What do you think of that?” He surveys us over his big bushy beard, clearly waiting for an answer.
“This is good for Global, right?” Hank is the first one of us to speak. “The more buzz we generate, the more we help keep Global in the public’s eye?”
“I like you, Miss Simmons,” Mr. Winn replies. “You’re a Global girl. Yes, all this buzz is good for Global.
With the country’s defense contract up for bid, we need to foster positive public opinion for the company.”
Hank beams.
I keep my face carefully blank. Our experience—our terrible, near-death experience—is being exploited by Global for profit. Riska starts to growl, but I give his tail a yank, cutting him off before he can draw Mr. Winn’s attention.
“As a thank-you for a job well done, I’ve got a surprise for all of you. Ms. Sturgess, if you please.” Mr. Winn gestures to Kerry.
She hurries to the main doors. They slide apart as she pushes a button mounted on the wall. I barely have time to register who’s on the other side before Hank jumps to her feet.
“Timmy!” she cries, joy lighting her face. “Mom! Dad!”
7
Family Reunions
“Sissy!”
A skinny boy streaks into the room. He’s a smaller, boyish version of Hank with the same lanky body and bright red hair. He slams into his big sister, throwing his arms around her middle.
Tears run down Hank’s face. She picks up her baby brother and swings him around, laughing and crying at the same time.
Her parents enter, joining them in the center of the room. Mrs. Simmons is tall and lean. Mr. Simmons is short and squat with the same red hair as his children. The four of them stand in a circle, hugging one another.
Three more people enter behind the Simmons: Dad, Aston, and a tall, willowy woman who must be Billy’s mother. There’s no sign of Uncle Zed.
Dad hustles toward me. His hair is in its usual tousled disarray. He’s in a Global uniform like me, but he somehow manages to make the new clothes look like they’ve been in a pile on the floor for a week. His arms enfold me in a familiar, comforting hug.
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