Gauntlet

by Holly Jennings

  “We’ve got the latest footage,” he announced. “And we know who it is this time.”

  The reporters bristled, exchanging glances with each other.

  “There’s another team at the airport?”

  “No. But there’s a team about to go through the gate.”

  “If they weren’t spotted at the airport first, that means—”

  “It’s an American team.”

  An American team? Interesting. None so far had been seen at The Wall.

  The volume went to maximum.

  The journalists turned to the screen between them. The shot showed a black SUV rolling through the gate and stopping just in front of the house. A security guard exited the car, along with five figures clad in black, hoods pulled low, same as usual.

  “How the hell can you tell who that is?” one reporter protested. “They’re dressed just like all the others.”

  “The scans from the survey drones are telling us that this individual”—the new guy pointed at the screen, and the camera zoned in—“is a woman who’s five-foot-five.”

  “Lots of women are five-foot-five.”

  “Sure, but how many have a crescent tattoo on their calf?”

  The camera zoomed in on the woman’s calf muscle, where the edge of a crescent tattoo peaked out from beneath her pant cuff.

  “That’s Jessica Salt of Team Legacy!”

  “Legacy is at The Wall? This just went epic.”

  My heart stopped.

  This was epic. For two reasons. One, Legacy was the first confirmed American team to appear at the house that we knew of. All the other teams seen at the house, identified or not, had arrived on international flights through the airport.

  Second, Jessica Salt was the female gamer. Nine-time championship winner and overall goddess-on-Earth. If she was there and this was about drugs, what did that mean?

  Dr. Renner grabbed my arm and shook it.

  “Are you okay?”

  Am I okay that the number one female gamer in the industry was just seen at the biggest drug house in all of L.A.? Uh, no. Really, really not.

  My tablet pinged in Dr. Renner’s hands. When she tapped the screen, her face fell.

  “Kali,” she began. “We have a problem.”

  Those were never good words but were considerably worse coming from our resident psychiatrist. When she handed me the tablet and I gave it the once-over, my mouth fell open. Spelled out in the upper-right corner of the test results was a single word that turned my stomach to stone.

  FAILED.

  Speaking of problems with drugs . . .

  The taijitu pendant around my neck gained ten pounds. I gripped it, swinging it from side to side as my teeth gritted. For the moment, my Taoist studies and anger-management techniques vanished.

  I narrowed my eyes at Dr. Renner over the screen.

  “Which one of them is it?” I asked, pushing the words through my teeth.

  She shifted in her chair. “I’ll give you four guesses, but you won’t need any.”

  That stupid fucker.

  I bolted out of my chair and toward the door.

  “Kali,” Dr. Renner called out. “Remember to stay calm.”

  Sure, calm. I’m sure I’ve felt that once. There was a reason why I meditated every morning. Or at least, tried to.

  As I made my way through my home, calmness took over on its own because of the house itself. I loved this place. Hardwood floors, granite countertops, and trickling ponds in the backyard. For most people, they were selling points. For me, they were requirements. Because they were natural.

  Because they were real.

  The renovations to turn the house into a gamer’s dream had only taken a few weeks. With machines now actively working on construction sites, productivity had tripled over the last few decades. Several single-purpose drones could be left running all day and night under the supervision of one or two humans. Go to bed with no floors and wake up to gleaming marble. Like the shoemaker’s elves, just the updated, electronic version.

  I followed the sound of the clashing weapons of my teammates and stepped into the training room. It had been the previous owner’s gym. I’d kept the concrete floors and free weights in the gym area. But I’d added a few touches so it looked a little bit like a traditional dojo. If I didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, I could have lived in this room alone. Bamboo flooring covered the weapons and sparring section. Shoji sliding doors, their wooden frames inlaid with glass in place of translucent paper, opened to a Chinese garden outside and a pond with trickling waterfalls and free-floating stones.

  A Japanese dojo with a Chinese garden, where I’d practice my Korean martial art, in Los Angeles, California. Boy, it’s a small world after all.

  All four of my teammates were there. Derek and Hannah sparred on the mats. Cole, our newest member and replacement for he-who-had-left, watched from the sidelines. Lily leaned against the wall near the doorway, nose pressed to her tablet. No trainers today. In the off-season, we only worked with trainers once a week to keep us on track. Trainers cost money, and if money really did equal happiness, then not even Dr. Renner could have talked my bank account off a ledge. It would be too easy just to jump.

  Lily looked up from her tablet when I entered the training room.

  “Hey, Kali,” she called. “Did you hear that Jessica Salt was seen at The Wall?”

  I wasn’t the only one obsessed with the videos.

  Lily blinked at me, waiting for my response. She had impossibly blue eyes, like the color of the ocean where it meets the sky. I’d always wondered if she’d done something to permanently enhance the color. It wasn’t unusual in this day and age, especially for pro gamers. But Lily was a private person, so I hadn’t asked.

  My stomach turned into knots over the mention of Jessica’s appearance at The Wall. I frowned, but Lily didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yeah. I heard.”

  “I can’t believe an American team is finally there. Do you still think this is about drugs?”

  I wasn’t sure, but I had my own problems with drugs at the moment.

  “I . . . don’t know,” I finally said.

  I excused myself from Lily, crossed the training room, and stopped in front of Cole.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I nodded to the side.

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  Once we were out of earshot of the rest of the team, I turned back to him and lowered my voice.

  “You failed your drug test.”

  He pulled back and folded his arms. He was dressed in a sleeveless training shirt, and the muscles in his arms bulged almost as much as the veins running over them. Cole Wilkinson, a real-life Hulk.

  He glanced at the rest of the team practicing on the mats, then back at me. “Marijuana is legal.” He kept his voice low. “Besides, you said you don’t care if we smoke a little.”

  “No, I don’t care if you smoke once in a while, or if you get a cold and have to take medicine—as long as it’s all outside of the tournament.”

  “So what’s the problem? The RAGE tournament is months away.”

  “Because of all the legal drugs you could put in your body, steroids isn’t one.”

  He went a little rigid then, as if he was holding his breath. Did he really think it wouldn’t show up on the tests?

  Cole studied my face for a minute. “Why did you even bother with running a test? It doesn’t mean anything outside the tournaments.”

  “Because the VGL is considering running random tests in the off-season.”

  He laughed. “Oh, yeah. The drug tests in the VGL. Because those are so official. Are you serious?”

  “I am.”

  He looked stunned. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he found the words.

  “This isn’t a joke
?”

  “Nope.”

  “But . . .” His voice trailed off, and he glanced around the training room. Man, he was having a hard time processing this. Couldn’t blame him. Most team owners would have covered up the test results.

  “Why do you even care?” he finally asked.

  Why did I care so much? Because a former teammate had died right next to me from an overdose. Because I’d taken one too many pills myself just to escape the pressures of reality.

  Because, at the end of the day, this was supposed to be a game.

  It was supposed to be fun.

  But when I stepped a little closer to Cole, a completely different answer came out, and it was equally true.

  “Because I care about my teammates. I want what’s best for all of you.”

  “How else am I supposed to look like this?” He nodded down at his arms.

  “You don’t have to look like that,” I told him. “Look, you’re new to the team, and you don’t really know me yet, but I’m running things differently than most owners in the VGL. Image isn’t everything.”

  At least, I was trying to run things differently. But if I was getting this much pushback from him alone, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to deal with the sponsors and everyone else who expected him to look like an Olympic god.

  “Look, Kali. This is how I want to look. What does it matter, anyway? I’ll be clean in time for the tournament.”

  I didn’t know what to do. Too many team owners in competitive gaming tried to control every move their players made. Told them how to act and dress. I didn’t want to do that with my team. Still, this was drug use, on a different level than dictating wardrobe and hairstyle choices for photo shoots.

  “Kaliiiiii.”

  Hannah bounded up to me, her ponytail bouncing like a strawberry blonde spring. Hannah was a walking contradiction. With model height, unbelievable curves, and a picture-perfect face, she belonged on the cover of a swimsuit magazine. Instead, she used her perfectly manicured nails to grind her opponents to a pulp in the virtual arena.

  She tugged on my arm and pushed her bottom lip out into a pout.

  “Can we go out tonight?” she asked. “Please?”

  “You don’t need my permission. Go out whenever you want.”

  “No, I mean as a team. I want to hit the gaming clubs.”

  I sighed inwardly. So much for steering clear of drugs and alcohol. I’d been away from the club scene for months, ever since I’d left the team and prepared to take it over. But we’d have to hit the clubs sooner or later. With my recent acquisition of the team, the sponsors would want us in the spotlight and showcasing our new lineup. Might as well start reimmersing myself in the celebrity-gamer lifestyle.

  “Fine,” I agreed. “After we plug in.”

  CHAPTER 2

  The sword was heavy in my hand, the weight of it both foreign and familiar. I pressed my back against Cole’s as we stood in the center of a stone tower, wearing armor that revealed more of our body than it protected.

  Can’t make it too easy, now.

  We were surrounded. A gladiatorial opponent stood on either side of us, muscles straining against their armor, wielding swords as tall as I stood.

  They charged. Their footsteps pounded into the tower’s stone floor. Cole and I held our ground, still back-to-back. The gladiator rushing for me was a behemoth of a man.

  And he was all mine.

  I smiled. Come to me, darling.

  He did.

  He swung as he reached me. I slid under his sword, delivering a swift kick to his ribs. He grunted and stumbled back. His eyes went wide, and his hand lingered over the spot I’d kicked. I stood tall and crooked my finger at him. Get back here.

  His face set into a grimace, and he charged. Behind me, Cole’s elbow jammed into my back. I stumbled forward and narrowly missed my attacker’s sword. I sucked my gut in as the blade slid so close it whispered along my skin. I spun, ended up at his back, and slashed my sword across it.

  He gasped. Blood sprayed out of the gash stretching from shoulder blade to kidney. He sunk to his knees and planted face-first onto the stone floor. A red puddle formed around his lifeless body. It thinned at the edges and slithered through the gaps between the stones. Beige stones, black armor, and ribbons of blood.

  This was the arena.

  The biggest high. The greatest thrill.

  I sighed. My insides simmered somewhere between “blah” and “good enough.”

  Yeah, what a thrill.

  Cole turned to me and glanced down at his elbow. His own opponent was facedown like mine, gagging into a pool of blood.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “We just need more practice.” I shrugged, trying to look casual. Really, I felt empty, like my passion for the game had evaporated. I still loved a good fight, but I had wanted to take over the team so badly, I’d never really thought about the consequences of doing so. Leaving Los Angeles. Traveling for weeks on end. Not having time to check in with my friends. It was like building a business, in a way. I’d been away from gaming and the team for months.

  Knowing we’d all be back together eventually had kept me motivated, but now that I was back and had taken over the team, it just wasn’t what I thought it would be. I’d hoped it would be fun, playing games with my friends and kicking ass in the arena. Instead, Rooke was gone, and the rest of us felt like disjointed parts of a whole that had been assembled by a three-year-old, forced together in ways that didn’t quite fit. Something was off, and now my hope was that we’d bond together again before the next tournament.

  A female voice echoed overhead.

  Simulation complete.

  With a jolt, I opened my eyes to the virtual pod’s shadowy innards. Cords detached from my skin and trickled away. I sat there for a minute, blinking. My head was clear, my stomach calm. I surveyed my hands. No trembling. No adverse effects at all.

  Good. That was good.

  The virtual world and I had a rocky relationship. There were times when I liked it better than the real world. Okay, more than liked it. Honestly, looking back now with a clear mind, I was addicted from the first time I’d plugged in. For some, that’s all it takes. There, I’d felt alive. Here, not so much.

  It was only March now, but the RAGE tournaments would be starting up by late summer, and I had to prepare myself for the intensity of the training period. The last time I’d gamed at the pro level, I’d been named the first female captain in the VGL, led my team to a championship, told the team owner to shove it, and vowed to create my own team. Now I’d done exactly that. Still, it hadn’t turned out how I had expected.

  The pod doors hissed and opened around me.

  “Good practice, guys,” Derek said, as I climbed out of my virtual pod. He glanced between me and Cole a few times. “You’re getting smoother when you’re together.”

  I exchanged looks with Cole. I wasn’t feeling it, and he didn’t look too sure himself. But when I’d first joined Defiance, we hadn’t been much of a team then, either. Talented, for sure, but forging us into one unit took time, and now it seemed like I was starting from scratch all over again.

  Hannah rushed up to me, brimming with excitement. “We’re still going out, right?”

  “Yes, yes,” I said. “Everyone shower and get dressed. We’ll leave in an hour. But no one has to come if they don’t want to.”

  They did.

  My teammates were out the pod-room door before I even finished speaking. Around the pod room, the programmers began packing up their things. All of them, except mine.

  Elise sat in the workstation behind my pod, typing madly on her screen. Like Dr. Renner, she was another one with glasses even though they were nothing more than a fashion accessory anymore, given that corrective surgery was so accessible nowadays. In the last few weeks, she’d dyed her
hair, so blue chunks were woven throughout her brown locks.

  I waved a hand in front of her face. “You know the simulation is over, right?”

  She didn’t even blink at my hand. “Just analyzing some stats here.”

  “Elise, go home. I’m glad you have a job you love, but it’s Friday.”

  “Just another five minutes.”

  I shook my head. Knowing there’d be no deterring her, I turned toward the door.

  “Have fun at the club,” she called out.

  I wasn’t counting on it. I might have enjoyed the clubs and the parties a few years ago. But since then, I’d been focusing on the business. Late nights. Paperwork. Figuring out how to take over the team. I’m sure to most people that sounded boring, but to me, it was invigorating, like I’d stumbled across my purpose in life. Suddenly, nightlife became a whole lot less . . . fulfilling. Oh God, look at me. I’d aged ten years in one. Am I a grown-up now?

  I glanced back at her and smiled anyway.

  “Thanks.”

  As I headed to my room to change for the evening, I let a long, slow breath pass through my lips. The clubs. The nightlife.

  The crazy, high-pressure world of the celebrity gamer.

  Here we go.

  • • •

  The sun had set on L.A.’s S Hill Street, the cool air bit at my bare arms, and the crowd was something fierce tonight. I stood with my teammates in front of the club, posing for some pictures and signing autographs for the fans.

  “Have you been invited to The Wall?” one of the paparazzi called out.

  There was no escaping it. Everyone had become obsessed with that place.

  “If we had,” I began with a wink, “you’d never know.”

  The crowd erupted into a bunch of “oooo’s” at my little tease.

  This is what they want.

  The cameras flashed, blending in with the surrounding lights of L.A.’s nightlife. Although we were there as a team, most of the cameras were on one person.