Arena

by Holly Jennings

  Nathan’s fists clenched. He drew a shaky breath and swallowed. “We’re not out of the tournament. We still have a shot at the championship.”

  “Maybe not, but now you’re on the losing side of the elimination bracket.”

  “Which will make it an easy ride to the top.” Nathan stared directly into his eyes, not backing down. The knuckles of his fists turned white.

  Gibson folded his arms over his chest. “You went weeks undefeated in the preseason. And now, in the most important matchup, you lose. This is not what I wanted my brand associated with. There are dozens of other teams I could sponsor.”

  “Okay,” Nathan said with a shrug, trying to be casual. “You could drop us. But how’s that gonna look when we take the tournament?”

  Gibson’s jaw muscles moved beneath his skin as if he were chewing on his tongue. “Fine.” He pointed a finger an inch away from Nathan’s nose. “But you’d better hope you win.”

  With a huff, he left. When he rejoined his party on the other side of the lounge, the bouncer turned to us.

  “You okay, then?”

  We all nodded, and he descended the stairs to the club. A waiter took his place at our sides.

  “Rough match, huh?” he asked as he lowered a tray to the table filled with several dozen shot glasses brimming with liquor.

  Nathan chuckled. “No drone to serve our drinks?”

  “No, no. You deserve the human touch.”

  In the center of the liquor tray was a yellow-tinted cut-glass bowl in the shape of a Pac-Man. It faced up, so its mouth was the bowl’s opening. Inside the bowl was brimming with HP, the latest designer drug.

  A few years ago, some biochemistry student—who spent a little too much time in his basement lab—ended up developing a designer drug that instantly found a market in the gamer community. It had a thousand street names, all based on gamer terminology. Power-up, 1-up, mana potion, auto-aim, cooldown, critical hit. Most people called it HP, which in gamer speak stood for health points. Its effects were . . . familiar. It turned colors more vibrant, tastes more pleasurable. All senses were enhanced. It didn’t just make you feel good. One hit, and you were invincible. With every minute of our lives under strict control, HP was the only way to escape back into the one place we ever cared to be.

  The virtual world.

  “It’s like I never left the pod,” Nathan had said to me once, as we lay on his bed together. It was the first time we’d ever tried a hit. He turned to me and trailed his fingers along my forearm. “You feel like warm cashmere.”

  I hadn’t moisturized in days. Cashmere. Yeah, right. I knew it wasn’t true, but I didn’t care. His fingertips were feathers grazing the inside of my arm, soft and ticklish. I giggled, and laughter rippled all the way down to my toes. When his tongue brushed mine, it tasted like honeydew. Every sensation was ripe, pleasurable, and perfect.

  Only the virtual world felt like that.

  HP came in capsules of mismatched halves consisting of three different color combinations. Yellow-blue, yellow-red, and red-blue. They were dead ringers for the pills from the old Dr. Mario game. The game might have been more than half a century old, but every gamer knew it, even those born forty years after its debut. We were all suckers for the classics.

  “Well,” the waiter began, “if there’s anything else you need—”

  “We’ll let you know,” Nathan finished. The waiter faltered but took the hint and left.

  Nathan reached for a shot glass.

  “Are you sure you can handle that?” Derek asked.

  “Fuck you.” Nathan held up the glass. We mirrored him. “A toast. To all things virtual. Where would we be without it?”

  “Well,” Hannah said, grinning, “we could always go to college.”

  We all laughed and slammed the shots back. The bitter taste of the liquor burned down my throat, forging the same path it did after every match. A shot for the team.

  Nathan reached for the bowl of HP. I grabbed his arm. “Take it slow.”

  He shook me off and reached away. He split one of the capsules in half, cut the powder inside into a line, and snorted it right off the table. Hannah popped one in her mouth and downed it with another shot.

  “You’re not having anything, Kali?” Hannah asked. “Seriously?”

  I shook my head. While my teammates dove into the tray like frat boys at a buffet, the night’s matchup replayed in my mind. The four men bursting through the tower’s door. Their leader taking me down on his own with that wicked grin on his face. The feel of my own dagger ripping through my neck. I flinched and shook my head again.

  “Anyone know where that team came from tonight?”

  “No,” Derek answered. “They must have held back until now. Kept themselves midlevel. Otherwise, everyone would have known about them. Interesting strategy.”

  Cunning, yes. Interesting? Shit, no. Especially if we’d have to face them again in the tournament.

  “Well, we might have our answer,” Hannah said, nodding at the far wall of the club. “Highlights. Check it out.”

  Above the bar, a gigantic screen spread the length of the entire wall. Along the bottom edge, the tournament’s acronym was spelled out in faint lettering against the black background: REALITY-ALTERNATE GLADIATORIAL EVENTS.

  Two fighters filled the screen, one wielding a battle-axe and the other a machete. The sound of metal clashing against metal mixed with the techno beat of the club as the pair parried and punched their way through the fight. The machete-wielding warrior slammed his weapon down, slicing his opponent’s hand off. He screamed.

  Nathan turned away from the screen, wincing. “Christ, that’s gotta hurt.”

  Derek grinned. “Can’t handle it, Nancy?”

  Nathan slammed a fist on the table. “Call me that again, and I’ll cut off your hand right here.”

  I held my breath and moved to the edge of my seat, primed to wedge myself between them again. But Derek shook his head and pulled back, and Nathan unflexed his hand. With everyone else relaxed, I released my breath. For now.

  “It’ll be awhile before they get to our matchup,” Hannah said, waving a hand at the screen. She turned back to the table. “Let’s party.”

  While my teammates tried to figure out which combinations between the shots and pills would make them forget their own names, I kept my eyes on the screen as the matches slid by.

  An hour later, when the crowd had begun to dwindle, I ventured into the lower level of the club and pressed a hip against the bar. Between fights, the screen above the bar phased in and out of candid shots of the gamers from the RAGE tournaments. Fierce-looking warriors wielded battle-axes, longswords, and other blades. Pick your favorite. Root for them. Bet on them. Don’t worry if they die. They’ll be back next week.

  The bartender appeared in front of me, splayed his hands on the bar, and leaned toward me. “What can I get you?”

  “Do you have anything with coffee in it?” I asked, raising my voice over the music and pulsing bass around us.

  He laughed. “Are you trying to sober up, or do you just really like coffee?”

  I smiled. “Well, I don’t like being sober.”

  He laughed again and scanned behind the bar. “Sorry. Nothing with coffee. Can I get you something else? How about . . .” He ran a finger across the bottles. “We have some Kubota Sake. That’s Japanese, isn’t it?”

  With his back turned, I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath. “Yeah, except I’m half-Chinese and was born here.”

  “What?”

  “That sounds great.”

  He snatched the bottle off the wall and poured a glass. When he handed it to me, I smiled. Practiced. Perfect.

  “Thanks.”

  “Of course.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “You need anything else?” He nodded inside the bar. I
leaned forward, following his gaze, and spotted three more Pac-Man bowls filled with HP. Had they replaced peanuts and pretzels with these things or what?

  I gave him another practiced smile. “I’m fine for now.”

  He blinked. “Really? You sure?”

  I raised my glass to him. “The night’s young.”

  “Okay.” He rapped his knuckles against the bar as he left. “Just let me know when you’re ready for a fix.”

  I nodded as I brought the glass to my lips. The liquor went down smooth, unlike most American alcohols, and left behind a clean, refreshing taste, sort of like sushi. Not half-bad, but not coffee, either.

  Music blared from the wallscreen, even louder than the club’s techno beat. The Virtual Gaming League’s theme song. My gaze flicked up as the screen went black. White lettering appeared along the bottom edge.

  THIS IS A REPEAT OF TONIGHT’S EARLIER BROADCAST.

  The screen faded in to a pair of young men sitting behind a news anchor’s booth with the VGL green-and-white symbol pasted to the front of it. Neither looked a day over twenty-five. The announcers, I mean.

  “Good evening. I’m Marcus Ryan.”

  “And I’m Howie Fulton. And this is Saturday Night Gaming.”

  Radio voices. Perfect teeth. Tanned skin. Both wore small headsets with microphones, meant as a tribute to the original sets gamers wore decades ago.

  “We’re coming to you live from Los Angeles, home of the VGL national championships.” Howie turned to his counterpart. “Well, Marcus, you know what month it is.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s August, and that means the RAGE tournaments.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m excited. Are you excited?”

  “You bet I’m excited.”

  Tweedledee and Tweedledum on TV.

  Howie beamed. “Tonight’s Death Match round certainly lived up to its name. Let’s start off big and check out highlights from the most anticipated match of the night: InvictUS vs. Defiance.”

  The Death Match was the final round of the preseason, and had earned its nickname for a reason. Mostly, the preseason was just there for warm-up, so the teams could get to know each other, and the players to know themselves. But the Death Match was where most teams found their groove, and the gameplay found the true depth of its brutality, which we’d learned firsthand ourselves. It also divided the teams into two brackets, the winners’ and the losers’, and set the rest of the tournament in motion.

  The screen cut to the match. Four of InvictUS’s players crouched at the outer edge of the fields.

  “They’re fighting with four forwards? I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “That’s pretty bold. If anyone from Defiance gets through, they’ll only need to defeat one at the tower to win the game.”

  “I’m not so sure anyone from Defiance is going to get through. Look at this.”

  Nathan and Derek moved through the fields, unaware, running straight for the trap. Just as they exited the stalks, the enemy lashed out, slicing through their calf muscles as they ran past. They both cried out and fell to the ground. InvictUS jumped on them, holding them down as they sliced them to bits. Looks like neither of them had died first. It was both their faults.

  InvictUS took off through the fields.

  “Wow.” The announcer’s voice overlaid the footage. “These guys are fast.”

  The screen flashed to Hannah, playing the middle man halfway between the two towers. InvictUS crouched low, moving through the fields like snakes weaving through the stalks. They flanked her and attacked from behind. Two stood back and watched, grins on their faces, while the remaining two baited her, swiping their blades through the air. Hannah held them back with jabs of her massive two-handed battle-axe.

  One of the watchers circled the fight, and once at her back, he sliced across it, ripping her skin open. Hannah screamed, and the memory of it resounded in my mind. She fell to her knees, and another sword skewered her neck. Her scream cut off into a gurgle, then into nothing, as she collapsed to the ground.

  “Three down already. This is unbelievable. Defiance doesn’t have much hope now.”

  “I wouldn’t say that just yet, Howie.”

  The footage cut to Lily, perched high in the sycamore tree. She watched the fields below, waiting for the enemy to appear.

  One of the men emerged, followed quickly by another. They ran past her, under the branches. When no more emerged, Lily descended the tree. Looping between branches, she hit the ground with a soft thud.

  Once she landed, two more men sprang out from the fields. They’d been waiting for her, knew her exact position and techniques.

  “Oh, no. I hope they know what they’re doing here.”

  They bolted for her. Lily turned, darted up the tree three steps and pushed off. As she rotated in air, she brought down her axe, slicing their leader from eyebrow to jawline. A tear of blood dribbled down his neck.

  “She’s a little tiger, isn’t she?”

  “I’m not sure about that, but I’d love to know what makes her purr.”

  She landed smoothly on the ground just as the original two runners circled around.

  Surrounded. They closed in. With an axe gripped tight in each hand, Lily’s arms moved like a cyclone through the air, keeping the enemies’ weapons at bay.

  It didn’t last.

  A sword impaled Lily’s shoulder. She grunted, refusing to scream. Another blade ripped through her right hamstring. She fell to her knees. In unison, the foursome pulled back and plunged their swords into her abdomen. Lily seized as her body went rigid. Then, she crumpled. The men pulled back, still in unison. Perfect. These guys had practiced their fighting techniques as much as the rest of us did our smiles.

  “These guys really know their opponent.”

  “InvictUS is just destroying Defiance. They never saw this coming.”

  The screen cut to me, crouching on the stone floor as the foursome appeared at the tower’s entrance. My eyes went wide.

  “Now, this is gonna be a hell of a show.”

  Their leader stepped forward and signaled for the others to wait behind.

  “Nice. Very bold.”

  “Ling’s one of the top-rated fighters in the tournament. They really should have used all of them to take her out. But—”

  “They’re giving us a treat.”

  “That’s right.”

  Metal clanged together as our swords met, again and again. The footage transformed into slice-and-diced images of the fight. Flash. He knocked the weapon from my hand and me to the floor. Flash. In a sweeping arc, he brought the dagger down to my throat. Flash. I caught his arm with both hands and strained against him until my arms shook. Teeth gritting together, I grimaced. Sweat beaded along my forehead.

  “Look at the way her hands are trembling. Ling’s fighting like it really is for her life.”

  I grunted and squirmed against him as the blade dug into my skin. My eyes went wide as the fear seeped in. Blood oozed from my neck. I clawed the wound and gasped for air. Christ, it looked real. No wonder people were more addicted to this than porn.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  Nathan nudged me, his pale blue eyes narrowed in concern. He motioned at my neck, where my hand clenched the spot I’d been virtually cut. I dropped my hand, and a heavy breath passed through my lips. Just how long had I been holding it in?

  On the screen, the footage cut back to the announcers.

  “This was by far the biggest upset of the night, possibly of the entire preseason.”

  “Defiance is really going to have to work if they have any hope of getting back into this game.”

  “Okay, next up . . .”

  The footage cut to another fight of the evening. Keep feeding the masses.

  I smiled at Nathan, hoping the expression reached my eyes. “I’m fin
e.”

  “You, uh”—he brushed a hand over my hip—“wanna get out of here?”

  His finger looped through my belt, and he tugged me against him. Heat flashed inside, where our bodies met. Over his shoulder, I scanned the club. Lily stood in the far corner, playing a VR-arcade machine. At the end of the bar, Derek chatted up two sets of fake double D’s. Which would he take home? Probably both. Hannah danced in the middle of the floor with some guy grinding against her, as if he actually had a chance. Did they all think she kissed Lily for fun? The flirt. It was her image.

  I turned back to Nathan.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Back at the facility, my back hit the metal wall. Rough hands grappled my thighs as Nathan’s breath panted in my ear. The edge of his jaw, sharp with stubble, rubbed like razor burn against my cheek. Same as any night. I raked my hands up his back. Every muscle from shoulder to hip was taut, clenched with tension. Saturday was supposed to be the best night of the week, even for those who lived in reality. But tonight couldn’t get any worse. In either world.

  I curled my fingers through his hair and my legs around his waist, forming my body to his. His breath caught. The rocking hitched, a momentary pause, before he slammed into me. He needed to work off the loss. The frustration.

  So did I.

  I drove my fingers through his hair, and his tongue assaulted mine. I tasted everything he’d done that night, a bittersweet mix of soda, vodka, and traces of HP.

  HP. Nathan wasn’t the only one wishing he was still in the virtual.

  I closed my eyes and envisioned the tower, surrounded by stone and grass. The metal against my back turned to earth. Warmth spread through my body as the sunlight caressed my skin. The sweetest scent, like a thousand wildflowers, wafted against my nose, carried by the thick mountain air. It filled my lungs and breezed across my face. Reality was the game. Plastic. Metal. People. All fake. The game was real—tangible, sweet, and warm—and the only place I was alive and free.

  Nathan released inside me, and the tension in his muscles melted. I moaned softly and murmured in his ear as pulsating shocks coursed through me, and my vision danced with black spots. The cold nothingness of the facility’s walls and sterile air pressed against my skin, pulling me back to the present. Nathan held me, panting, shaking, then carried me to the bed, where we collapsed across it.