by Logan Byrne
As Borgis walked back towards us, he put the rifle on his shoulder, the barrel facing the shooting range, and he fired, a blue bolt of energy shooting out and hitting a target directly on, shattering it into a thousand little digital pieces. He had a straight look on his face, like he knew he was going to hit it, like there wasn’t even an ounce of trepidation or self-wonder in him. He put the rifle back down, hanging it from his hand, the barrel almost dragging on the floor.
“That’s your objective. You won’t need to try it the way I did, but you need to get through three different stages of the trial, each one harder than the last. Pass all three and get a card choice before the competition. Fail one of them, and you fail your weapons training and don’t get a thing. Now, I want you guys to get into three lines, single-file, and wait for your turn in the trials. You’ll pick here either a blaster or a rifle, and when you’re ready, stand in front of the range, arm yourself, and hit the red button underneath your booth,” Borgis said.
I was lucky enough to be in the middle of the crowd already, and easily got into the middle of the first line, while Liam was in the middle of the second line, though a row behind me. I wished we could do it together, since only one of us needed to pass, and I knew he would likely be half-decent at it and I would probably completely blow this place up by accident. It always seemed to be my luck that way.
The first waves of competitors grabbed weapons, two guys grabbing rifles while the woman grabbed a blaster pistol, which admittedly did seem easier to handle and maneuver, even if the rifle was more powerful. They walked up to the ranges, and I peeked out the side of my line, watching the woman who was from my line. Borgis was nearby, watching them carefully.
“Whenever you’re ready, press the red button just down below. Shoot as many of the flying discs as you can. Once the round is complete, you’ll press the button again to start the next round. You’ll do this three times,” Borgis said.
Nervously, all three of them pressed the button at what seemed like the same time, or close to it, before raising their weapons and aiming them as best as they could. I could tell none of them were well versed with a weapon, especially blasters and rifles like these, as their form seemed off and the woman was oddly bent forward. The targets came up, slowly moving about the area at a leisurely pace, bouncing off of the walls as they almost waited and wanted to be hit.
The woman hit a couple targets early on. A timer appeared in the back after she had hit her button, counting down the seconds she had to go for this round. Even when some targets were hit, others popped up in their place, though still moving at the turtle’s pace that the previous ones had. As I watched I saw the men and woman starting to show an air of confidence, all three of them hitting their targets fairly easily, before their timers hit zero and the targets immediately disappeared.
“Good job, everyone. Now, when you’re ready, hit the button to start your next round,” Borgis said.
The next round was slightly harder, a few of the targets not being hit as they moved faster around the area, bouncing off the walls with such force that it seemed as if they’d sped up even faster, and the blue bolts of energy fired from the blasters wasn’t even close to the same speed. Still, though, they all hit targets, not as many, but a good amount, before the timer ended. It was shorter than the first round. Their blasters went down as the woman and one man stretched, the last man running his hand through his hair and exhaling a massive sigh.
“Good, but not great. You all have passed so far, but there’s one final round left before we let a new group of three come up and try their luck. If you don’t pass this final round, you won’t be eligible for a card drawing, so remember that. Good luck, and once again, press the button when you’re ready,” Borgis said.
The final round was hard to watch, the blue blaster bolts shooting all over the place, like they were trying to spray the area with shots in hopes of hitting some targets. The targets moved at an absurd pace, almost hyperactive, as they bounced around and around, never seeming to stop or slow down, taunting the competitors. I didn’t have much hope that they would pass.
The timers ended and the competitors put away their weapons, before moving off to the side as Borgis extended his hand, guiding them there. He looked at a digiboard that a worker handed him and went over their scores, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger.
“You and you,” he said, pointing to the woman and the man in the middle.
They lit up, looking at Borgis, the woman perking up some as she rubbed her hands together.
“You two didn’t pass. You, on the other hand, skimmed by a percent above what you needed. You’ll get a card, but the others won’t. I’m sorry,” Borgis said.
The woman hung her head, mumbling to herself, as Borgis motioned for the next set of competitors, three guys, who all chose rifles instead of pistols. There were two more rows still ahead of me, but I watched closely, seeing what they did, what they did wrong, and how to better myself. I was studying all of them, using their faults to my advantage, using a strategy that I knew Quinn would be proud of if she were here now. They finished, the group behind them went, and the group in front of me went before it was my turn. A few of the people didn’t pass the training, none of them earning a card, which I knew was going to be of the utmost importance to me, to us. I planned on getting all five cards, and I was going to start with this one.
“Next group, please,” Borgis said, as he motioned for us while looking at his digiboard.
I grabbed a rifle, taking a chance, as I noticed all of the people who passed had that in common. It was a little large; none of the other women so far had chosen one, though I knew when I put it up to my shoulder it would grant me the stability I needed for accurate shots. At least I hoped so.
As I walked up I noticed the two other people with me. One was that husband from Chicago, the one who’d stuffed his face, but the other was the one person here I couldn’t stand. The guy from Los Angeles—Jason. He smirked at me, like he knew he was going to show me up again, though I just looked forward, feeling the anger bubble and boil inside of me, trying to focus myself and imagine his smug face on the targets as they whizzed by. I’d love to shoot those.
“Whenever you’re ready, you may begin,” Borgis instructed.
Reaching down, I put my fingers against the cold button, my hand putting just a little bit of pressure on it, before I pushed it in all of the way, quickly bringing my hand up and reaffixing it to my rifle. I held my cheek close to the rifle, the same way I saw in a movie once, as my right index finger sat at the ready just in front of the trigger. I didn’t pay any attention to the people next to me, which was good, because Jason was sure to play mind games if he noticed me staring at him or his shooting range.
The first discs appeared out of thin air, slowly moving around the long range. My finger quickly tapped against the trigger, the bolts of blue energy firing out right where I was aiming, hitting the targets and shattering them one by one. I could see other targets disappearing out of the corner of my eye in Jason’s stall, but I didn’t care to look. I was doing well, and that was all that mattered.
Before I knew it, my eyes a little dry from my lack of blinking during the round, it ended, only one of the targets remaining in my stall at the end, which I thought was very good, considering the other competitors before me had had multiple targets left. It looked like I had a chance after all.
“When you’re ready, you may begin your next round. Remember, though, it will be a little more difficult,” Borgis said.
Taking a deep breath, I reached down, feeling around for the button without looking down, keeping my eyes straight forward, in case the targets came up instantly. I pressed the button, my hand going back to the barrel of the rifle. I was ready, locked, and loaded. I was going to show all of these guys, especially Jason, what a capable girl could do.
The targets appeared quicker than the first time, their speed increased inside the range, bouncing off of the walls like
a hyper kid who was given too much candy. I fired off shots, making sure not to shoot too many, as I didn’t know if my ratio of shots fired versus targets hit factored into my percentage at all. A couple people had sprayed their shots like falling raindrops before me, and I wasn’t about to risk it without knowing.
Targets crumbled underneath my control, disappearing one by one as their orange exteriors shattered into a thousand little pieces before dissipating into the digital unknown. I blinked, my eyes too dry, as my eyelids couldn’t have been more open if my life depended on it. Down they went, and I was sure I was hearing their cries as they withered away into oblivion. It kept me going.
The round soon ended and I had four left, which didn’t hurt, but it made me want to work even harder in the last round. I had no idea what my score was, which was nerve-wracking, but with one round left, I knew I could get it done.
“It looks like we have a tie so far for these competitors, and they have done the best out of anyone thus far,” Borgis said, as he looked at his digiboard. “Ms. Meyers and Mr. Wilson have both achieved the same high score, though with one round left, the hardest round, who will win? You all may begin when you’re ready.”
Without missing a beat I took a deep breath, felt my stress melt from my body, and pressed the red button, Jason hitting his at the exact same time, our targets appearing in front of us like clockwork.
I shot them all down as fast and as accurately as I could, a new target springing up from the ashes each time I blasted one into oblivion. I couldn’t believe how many there were, reproducing like rabbits, unfazed by my blasts. I kept my eyes open, a slight strain coming, but I didn’t give up hope. My peripheral vision was almost gone as my focus was solely on my own stall.
They didn’t all go away, there were too many of them even though I hit every shot I fired except for three, by the time it all ended, still clicking my trigger as the targets disappeared, though nothing came out. I set my rifle down, blinked finally, and turned to my right, watching Borgis looking over his digiboard as the three of us looked on silently.
“Well, I will say that we do have a winner for this round. One of you beat out the other and currently holds the top score for this year. While you all received a card from the competition draw, the winner and top score holder is…Ms. Meyers,” Borgis said.
I smiled, hearing Liam, who was next in line, shout out and clap, and other competitors joined in. I bit my bottom lip before walking over to the weapons rack and putting mine away. Jason looked bitter, as he should have, since he was bested by a girl, which I knew he’d never thought could happen. I knew it didn’t sit right with him and I loved it.
Liam killed it during his time, using a rifle to blast away the targets, though he didn’t get a score quite as high as mine. I wasn’t going to throw it in his face, though, unless he got a little cocky during a phase later on. We were partners, after all, and we were here to bring each other up and not to take each other down.
He received a card pick, the other two people next to him not getting theirs, before he came over and joined me, the two of us watching the rest of the groups have their turn at the weapons training that was a lot more fun than I thought it would be.
Maybe this would be a better experience than I thought.
Chapter Nine
“Some of you did well, while the rest of you were completely horrible with your weapons training. Your chances of doing well in the competition have drastically gone down without a card choice, so remember that when you have to earn your next one,” Borgis said after we were done shooting.
He pressed some buttons on the wall, and the shooting ranges sunk back down into the floor, the tiles moving back into place like they were never even there. He walked back over, grabbing a staff, before coming back in front of us.
“Now we will move onto your self-defense training. You will not be able to earn a card from this, and you won’t be graded, but you will need to do well in order to protect yourself inside the grid should anyone come after you. I want you to get into your teams of two, with your partner, and both of you should get a staff. Have fun sparring, try to get the best out of each other, and I’ll be around for help if you need it,” Borgis said.
“I’ll go get our staffs,” Liam said, walking over towards the weapons rack.
I saw Jason standing near the rack, his partner getting their staffs, as he was claiming his area to spar in, which was far away from Liam and I. That was a bonus to beating him earlier.
“Here you go,” Liam said, as he handed me my staff.
I grabbed it, sticking the butt of the staff on the floor as I felt the material, kind of like cloth. It felt a bit texturized, like it was covered with a grip material. It was black, matte black actually, and felt strong, though it had some lightness to it for easy maneuvering.
“Are you ready?” Liam asked.
“What do we do, exactly?” I asked.
“Just try to take me down. I know you can’t, but it’ll be cute to see you try,” Liam said, smiling.
“Oh, is that a challenge?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
Before I could even lift my staff fully off the ground, Liam attacked, swinging his staff at me from above before I blocked it, my staff horizontal, a smile on his face as I flinched when he swung.
I pushed him back as he swung the staff around in his hand like some kind of ninja. I gripped my staff tightly, my knuckles turning a little white like Borgis’s had earlier, as I waited for his next move.
“Too much for you?” Liam asked.
“Not even close,” I said, before going in, swinging my staff at him.
We traded jabs, neither one of us getting the upper hand, as I blocked every strike of his and he blocked mine. I wasn’t sure if we were expected to hit each other or really take each other down, but I wouldn’t feel sorry if my staff accidentally slipped and slapped him in the side, especially after how he started our sparring session.
“You’re a lot better than I thought you’d be,” I said.
“Oh, you thought you could just swoop in and beat me?” Liam asked.
“Well, as a matter of fact…yes,” I said, as I flashed him a smirk.
With a seemingly single movement, Liam charged towards me, my staff going down to stop him, before he turned around, his staff to his chest, completely blocking my attack. Before I could even get it back up to defend myself, he struck, the side of his staff pressing against my neck, a look of happiness in his eyes.
“Game and match,” he said.
He pulled the staff away, never hitting or hurting me, and we both put the butts of our staffs on the floor, huffing and puffing for breath, sweat dripping down our foreheads. My heart was beating a mile a minute.
I looked around, seeing all of the other competitors sparring, some doing better jobs than others. There were some teams with slightly older competitors, and their physical prowess wasn’t quite what it probably was twenty or thirty years ago, though they looked like they were trying their best. They didn’t try to use their age as a disability or to get out of doing work; they just did it without complaining.
Another group, from Seattle, tapped their staffs against each other’s, neither of them looking like they were trying to win, but just acting like they were doing some kind of work. I wanted to encourage them to try harder and get into it, but then again, what were the odds one of these staffs was going to help anyone win this thing? Probably pretty slim.
“Your self-defense training is over for today,” Borgis said, fifteen minutes later. “Most of you did a great job, while others, well, didn’t. You may put your staffs back and rest for a little while.”
“I can take them back since you were nice enough to get them,” I said, my heart rate down considerably as I wasn’t gasping for air any longer.
I grabbed Liam’s staff, waiting in line for each group to put away their staffs, since we were near the back of the room. Jason and his partner were standing near the rack, talking, as they we
re lucky enough to put theirs away first.
I moved up in line, the last person, and slowly put away our staffs, taking my time, listening to them talk. I didn’t know why I was so interested in what they had to say to each other, but I didn’t know it would be this bad.
“I’m not sure we should do that, Jason,” his partner said.
“I know you’re nervous, Bridgette, but think of the massive opportunity for us. If we take out the older players right when the buzzer sounds, we’ll increase our odds exponentially. There are nine players aged forty or older, and a bunch more in their thirties. We’re young, strong, swift, and can take all of them out. Our odds of winning would be massive. We’d win for sure,” Jason whispered.
Was I hearing him correctly? Did he really want to take out the older players? Admittedly, it wouldn’t be hard, especially after seeing their attack and defense attempts, but that wasn’t what this was about. This wasn’t a blood bath, a brawl, or a way to legally satisfy your sociopathic desires. This was a search, a competition, and it didn’t seem right that he wanted to try to win it this way.
I put Liam’s staff away and walked back towards him, trying to think if I should warn everyone here about Jason and Bridgette. She didn’t seem too on board with his plan, but I didn’t think he cared, to be honest. He wanted her on his side to make it easier, but I knew he wouldn’t let her stop him from doing what he wanted. I wouldn’t even have been surprised if he took her out as well. There had been plenty of competitors over the years who had taken out their own friends or partners to win the entire thing. Greed changes people in the worst way possible.
