Gauntlet

by Holly Jennings

  “Excellent. I’ll send a car to pick you up at five p.m. tonight.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  I hung up the phone and turned to the team.

  “It’s set.”

  After that, hardly anyone ate breakfast. We decided to spend the day in training, the morning working out in the real world and the afternoon in the virtual, trying to make the hours go by. I’d like to say that it helped, but really?

  Longest. Day. Of. My. Life.

  Seriously, physicists could have tested space-time theories in the hours between breakfast and 5:00 p.m. At four forty-five, we were all gathered by the front door. We’d dressed in black, head to toe, complete with hoods to hide our faces, as Tamachi had requested. I don’t know why we bothered. If the Hypnotized crew was telling the truth, and their drones could analyze body stats to tell who was who, there was a good chance they’d figure out which team we were. Still, it was kinda fun.

  The door buzzed. The car was here. I pushed myself off the wall.

  “Finally.”

  When I pulled the door open, what stood on the other side was not a vehicle to whisk us off on our magical journey to the house, but James Rooke, our former teammate.

  There were suitcases in his hands.

  “I heard you need a fifth,” he said.

  He had one of those I-forgot-to-shave-all-week-but-damn-this-looks-good kind of beards. His skin was pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in a month, and the circles under his eyes were a little dark. Besides that, he looked good.

  Too good.

  My chest tightened, but I smiled anyway.

  “You know what? We’re fine. Thanks for stopping by.”

  I slammed the door shut in his face and marched away. Hannah grabbed me as I passed.

  “Kali!”

  She managed to wrangle me back into the front hall. Lily opened the door and invited the bastard in, suitcases and all.

  Hannah gripped my shoulders.

  “Since he’s here, maybe you should deal with this. You know? Get the bad blood out of the way and see what’s left.”

  I was way too far into pissed-off territory to process much of what she said, but I was pretty sure she mentioned something about spilling blood.

  Sounded like a plan to me.

  I marched up to Rooke, steam coming out of my ears.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded. “Let me guess. You found out we lost a player and thought you could just show up.”

  Lily got between us. “I called him.”

  She what?

  I must have stood there blinking for several seconds as I tried to process that information. Lily wasn’t the type to stick her nose where it didn’t belong and meddle in other people’s affairs. In fact, she was the last person I knew who would do such a thing. Where did she get off calling Rooke and inviting him here behind my back?

  “That wasn’t your place,” I told her, straining the words through my teeth.

  “And it’s not your place to let your love life affect the team. If you hadn’t been in a relationship with Rooke, you would have called him the second Cole left. But you didn’t because there’s history there. That’s not fair to the rest of us. Either put Rooke on the team and deal with your shit, or find someone else. For your team’s sake.”

  I blinked. Did Lily just school me?

  I didn’t think I’d ever heard her speak that many words in one day, let alone strung together like that in a single speech. Derek and Hannah took a step back and, for once, said nothing. Honestly, she was right. If Rooke and I hadn’t been together, I would have already reached out to him about taking Cole’s place. I was being selfish and putting my own problems above the team’s needs.

  “Lily’s right. I should have called,” I said. I glanced up at Rooke. “If you want to come in, we can discuss the team’s situation.”

  Rooke glanced around, taking in our appearance. “Why are you all dressed like that?”

  Our invitation to The Wall. I’d completely forgotten.

  “We got invited past The Wall,” I told him. His eyes went wide. He knew about The Wall. Of course. What gamer hadn’t heard of it?

  “The car’s here,” Hannah announced, peering out the front door. She glanced back at me. “Are we all going?” Her gaze flicked to Rooke, then back to me.

  Well, this put me in a jam, didn’t it?

  On one hand, he knew the team, and we knew him. We already had chemistry and hundreds of hours of training and practice together. I wouldn’t be able to find that with anyone else even if I managed to recruit one of the top players in the league. On the other hand, he’d left, and I had no way to know he wouldn’t do it again. I glanced around at my other teammates. They stared back, waiting for my answer. To them, Rooke was a friend. A teammate. He always would be, no matter what.

  “So,” I said slowly, drawing it out. “Does this mean you’re interested in rejoining us?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how can we know you’re not going to leave again?”

  “I won’t—”

  I stepped toward him. “Because as team owner, I need to guarantee consistency to my sponsors. We’re already reeling from Cole’s leaving, and you don’t exactly have the greatest track record.”

  He stepped toward me and matched my tone. His expression went serious. “I want to come back to the team. What do I have to do to prove that to you?”

  “Sign a contract. I won’t let you out of it until the end of the season, under any circumstances. It’s only fair to everyone else. Can you manage that?”

  I met his eyes. He stood there blinking for a minute as he processed my words. Rooke wasn’t one to show a lot of emotion, but I knew him. He was surprised I’d made the offer.

  Eventually, he nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’ll sign.”

  “Good. Get dressed. Dark clothing with a hood.”

  “Guess I’ll get changed then,” Rooke said.

  “Here.” Derek held out a hand and took one of his suitcases. “Let’s get these in your room.”

  As the guys passed by, heading back into the depths of the house, Rooke leaned toward me and lowered his voice.

  “We need to talk.”

  Ya think?

  “We’ll talk later,” I muttered back, under my breath.

  Talk. For us, that would be new.

  As I watched Derek lead Rooke to his room, I knew one thing for sure. No matter what our conversation entailed, my combo points would be huge.

  • • •

  Whatever the current definition of “awkward” was in the dictionary, it should have been replaced by a screen capture of the scene inside the van. A guard sat in what would have been the driver’s seat and explained he was there to make sure we complied with Tamachi’s request to keep our identities hidden. He was also there for our protection and security though that seemed a little tacked on. Derek climbed into the front beside him while Lily and Hannah crawled into the back, leaving the middle seats open for me and Rooke.

  Yippee.

  I moved as far away as I could, nearly pressing myself against the window. As the car guided itself through the streets, Derek chatted with the guard, while Hannah and Lily listened to music through earbuds. There was movement beside me, and I felt Rooke lean toward me.

  “I tried to call you,” he said in a hushed voice.

  Really? We’re doing this here? This wasn’t my idea of “later.”

  I gritted my teeth, still looking out the window. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Look, I know you’re pissed that I left the team.”

  “Oh, you know that? But you still did it anyway?”

  “We had six players,” he reminded me. “Only five can be on a team.”

  Yes, yes. I’d left the team for a few months, and our previous owner had re
placed me, never thinking I’d actually come back with the money to buy him out. So, when I actually did, we were left with five players plus me. The sponsors expected me to play, so it left us with six gamers and five spots. But no one thought Rooke would back out without so much as a word.

  I turned to him but kept my voice low. “And how come you bowed out so easily? Remember when you said you’d be there for me through all this? That you’d support me in what I’m trying to accomplish?”

  “I do support you.”

  I scoffed. “By leaving, then not calling? Excellent support.”

  “You still had five players. The team was more than okay.”

  The team? The team?

  My chest turned to ice, and I fought myself to keep from screaming. “The team was fine,” I said through gritted teeth, “but I wasn’t. Did you ever think of that?” He pulled back from me, and his face went solemn. “Oh, you didn’t know? I have these things called feelings. Yes, it’s shocking. Kali Ling has a heart, and you ripped it to shreds.”

  He winced and turned to the window, refusing to meet my eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke so softly, I barely heard him.

  “Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it was best for you, not me. Did you ever think of that?”

  I blinked, and the ice in my chest melted. That was not the answer I was expecting. Why would he think leaving me would be best? Did he think he wasn’t good enough?

  I opened my mouth to ask, but the guard cut me off.

  “We’re coming up on the house,” he said. “Pull on your hoods and keep your heads down.”

  We did.

  The car slowed, and the paparazzi crammed against the car even while the vehicle was still in motion.

  “Who’s inside?”

  “Is it another American team?”

  “Let’s see those faces!”

  I cupped a hand against the side of my face, keeping my profile hidden from the cameras. Even with the tinted windows, they could see through if they got close enough.

  “Get the fuck out of the way,” the guard yelled. Hands pounded against the car. Cameras clicked incessantly. The guard turned around in his seat. “Keep your heads down,” he commanded again. I buried my head farther into my palms. I’d thought the obsession over The Wall and the attention from the press was ridiculous when I was watching the videos of other gamers sneaking into the house. I’d underestimated it. With the advent of American teams now getting past The Wall, it was downright insane.

  There was some commotion outside the vehicle, and some commanding voices cut through the insanity of the crowd.

  “Back away now, or we’ll press charges.”

  Looks like additional security had shown up, or maybe the police.

  Finally, the car inched forward. I heard the gates close behind us and the general ambiance of the crowd began to fade. The car started its long journey over the driveway up to the house.

  It hit me then. We were past The Invisible Wall. We were about to find out the biggest secret in the gaming world. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. How many people wanted to know what was inside that house, and how few ever got the chance to find out? We’d been invited against all odds. It was a weird feeling. When you start to see the fruits of your labor, when you start to accomplish all of your dreams, you have to wonder: Was it really because of hard work or talent—or was it just plain luck?

  “Okay,” the guard said. “You can lift your heads, but keep those hoods on until you’re inside.”

  The high-flying drone cameras could still see us, hence the need for the hoods. The car slowed to a halt in front of the house, and we got out. I risked a glance up. The house was massive. I’d seen pictures and videos, sure, but in real life, the place was downright huge.

  The guard led us to the door, opening it for us.

  “Oh my God, this is so exciting,” Hannah gushed.

  I shooed my teammates forward. “Just get inside.”

  They hurried in until only I remained. The guard took up his position beside the front door. He hooked his thumb at the door, like he was signaling to me to hurry the fuck up. His mouth was pulled into a slight snarl. I didn’t blame the guy. If I had to deal with this much chaos on a daily basis, I’d be pissy, too.

  I couldn’t help but feel that I was standing on a threshold. Out here, I was Kali Ling. Pro gamer. Team owner. Record holder. Inside that house, who knew what was waiting for me? Something that will change pro gaming forever. Tamachi’s words echoed in my mind. My life was about to change, and whether that was for the better or worse, there was only one way to find out.

  I took a breath and stepped inside the house.

  CHAPTER 4

  Nine figures. The house had to be worth that at a minimum.

  From the inside, it looked more like a luxury hotel than a home. The floors were marble tiles laid out in a spiraling pinwheel design. Hallways stretched out on either side of us, seemingly endless, as if one stomp of your foot would echo for days. In front of us was a grand staircase leading to the upper levels. It was at least ten feet wide, lined with wrought-iron filigree banisters. The only thing missing was a counter and a clerk asking for my reservation.

  Speaking of which, a personal assistant appeared from around the staircase and came to greet us.

  “Welcome,” he said. “Mr. Tamachi will be with you shortly. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”

  No one answered. After a few seconds, Lily nudged me, and I realized everyone was waiting for me to speak first.

  “I think we’re fine, thanks.”

  He eyed us for a minute, probably noting our stunned expressions. “You can remove your hoods now. The cameras can’t see you in here.”

  So says he. But we did as he suggested and pulled off our hoods.

  After he disappeared back into the depths of the house, I clustered in the entryway with my teammates, afraid to move forward. Forty thousand square feet, and we took up a grand total of three.

  “I feel like I’m going to break something if I move,” Hannah whispered, and we all nodded.

  “Team Defiance.”

  A confident voice, one used to public speaking, boomed down the left hallway, where a tall Japanese man with salt-and-pepper hair walked toward us. Another personal assistant scampered along beside him. Tamachi extended his arms to us and smiled. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us.”

  Personal assistant number two handed us all tablets with a contract on the main screen.

  “It’s a standard confidentiality agreement,” Tamachi explained. “All it asks is that you do not talk about the technology you see here today. If you’d like to read the contract in detail, I’m happy to wait, and even after you sign it, you’re welcome to leave at any time.”

  Suspicions confirmed: This was about technology.

  My teammates all scribbled their names across the tablets, but I paused for a minute before signing.

  “How long is this contract in effect?” I asked.

  He peered down at me, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Until the tournament is announced.”

  “What tournament?”

  The amusement in his eyes spread to the rest of his face and turned up the corners of his lips. “That’s what you’re here to find out.”

  Clue number two. This was about a gaming tournament. I stopped stalling, signed the contract, and handed it back to the personal assistant.

  “Excellent.” Tamachi clapped his hands together. “Now, if you’ll please follow me.”

  Tamachi led the way down the hall. We followed.

  “I want you to know that Tamachi Industries has had its eyes on eSports for some time now,” he said. “This isn’t something we just jumped into.”

  “And how exactly are you jumping in?” Derek asked.

&n
bsp; Instead of answering, Tamachi turned to a door in the hallway and pressed the button beside it. The door slid open, revealing an elevator. Together, we rode down three floors in silence. What was that I said about it being awkward in the car? The tension inside the elevator brought it to a whole new level.

  The doors opened behind us, on the opposite side from where we entered, to a warehouse-sized room. If the house had a brain, this was it. The whole place hummed, as if it had been plugged into one giant electrical outlet. People walked in every direction across the concrete floors, tablets in hand, some dressed in white lab coats. Tamachi’s employees, I had to assume, since everyone here seemed to have a purpose and a place to be.

  Throughout the room were several clusters of pods, in groups of five, all gleaming white as if they’d been buffed until they shone. The word CHIMERA was etched into the side in faint gray lettering. I glanced around to the rear of the pod. No workstation sat behind it.

  “Where are the programmers?” I asked.

  Tamachi leaned around the pod. “This system doesn’t require any. It runs itself.”

  No programmers? That was different. Virtual pods used at the pro level were essentially sensory deprivation chambers encased in solid, opaque hulls. This prevented any outside force from impacting the players in the virtual world, which would be considered cheating if it helped you win or interference it if caused you to lose. Even while plugged in, a punch in the chest would send you flying back inside the game. But the pod’s opaque encasing, used to prevent real-life light sources from penetrating the game, also meant no one could tell if you were having a heart attack or seizure while inside. So, for medical reasons, programmers sat behind the pods and monitored both the game and gamer for any signs of distress. They were especially handy during training sessions, since they could code new enemies and scenarios to their liking and integrate them into the game.

  “How can it run without programmers?” I asked. “How is that safe?”

  Tamachi smiled. “I can assure you these pods are the safest the market has ever seen. Everything is run by artificial intelligence, smarter than any programmer. Smarter than any doctor. It can tell if you’re having problems inside the game far better than a human could.”