The Valiant Stadium
Mission:
- Survive
- Cope with Failure
“You know, the TSA has been very adamant about you, and I thought why not—I have my personal reasons too,” Mari said, her voice a silken thread laced with venom as she advanced, each step deliberate, closing the distance like a predator savoring the kill. “I plan on taking you with me.”
Terror gripped me, raw and unrelenting. My legs trembled beneath me, weak as reeds in a storm. I ached to unleash my Perk, to summon the surge of power that had saved me before, but that insidious pink smoke still lingered in my system, a hateful fog blocking my abilities. My gaze darted to the Mageball glove, its enchanted leather humming faintly with residual energy. Maybe... just maybe.
A massive bleacher fragment hurtled toward me like a runaway comet, tearing through the air with a deafening whoosh. I leaped over it in a desperate arc, propelling myself straight at Mari. She glanced up, her eyes widening for a split second, but I landed with a thud that shook the ground. She wasted no time—lunging forward with lethal intent, her wand a blur of motion.
She struck first, a barrage of slashes and thrusts that forced me into a frantic defense. I blocked and ducked, weaving through her assault with every ounce of agility I had left. She was as fast as ever, a whirlwind of precision and fury, making me long for the mallet's weight in my hands. Where is it when I need it?
With a graceful twirl of her wand, she swept my legs out from under me, dropping me to my knees in a heap. Before I could recover, she raised her arm for the finishing blow—a downward arc promising oblivion. But I thrust up the glove, its durable weave absorbing the impact with a resonant clang. Channeling the air around us, I flipped her backward; she hit the ground hard and rolled away, springing up like a coiled serpent.
I scrambled to my feet, spotting more debris nearby. With a grunt, I hurled two bleacher sections her way, the metal groaning in protest as they soared. But Mari's recovery was unnatural, steroid-fueled velocity. She yanked shards of metal from the stadium floor, forging them into a makeshift shield that deflected both projectiles with perfect timing. Sparks flew, illuminating her smirking face in the chaos.
I reached for another bleacher, but suddenly the metal around me warped and lunged—spikes erupting like deadly thorns, aimed at my heart. I shrieked with each dodge, leaping up a level of the stands, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
“It’s insane, actually,” Mari chuckled, her laughter cutting through the din like a knife. “As much as I did—or at least tried to—you really just served things on a silver platter for me. Really.”
She vaulted over the twisted metal construct she'd summoned, closing in again. I spun the bleacher fragment like a makeshift staff, blocking her relentless swings—each clash sending vibrations up my arms, my muscles screaming in protest.
“At first, it was just going to be me and some rando bringing in Marcus, and from there, pin the blame on her,” she continued, her words punctuated by chuckles that echoed her strikes. “Then she got decommissioned, and as if life was my personal chef, it handed me you and your friends. Especially you.”
In a move I barely registered—her wand transforming into a pole—she vaulted high and delivered a double kick to my chest. The impact hurled me backward, tumbling off the stands and onto the field below. I twisted mid-air, summoning the bleacher beneath me to cushion the fall, but it did little more than jar every bone in my body. Shocker.
She descended like a meteor, her wand trailing a comet of fire as she swung downward. My eyes watered in terror; I rolled aside just in time. She landed with earth-shaking force, the flames erupting in a scorching wave that melted the bleacher into a puddle of molten slag, shimmering like mercury under the stadium lights.
But a spark of a plan ignited in my mind. Seizing the moment, I reshaped the liquid metal into jagged spikes and launched them at her. She spun her wand at blinding speed, deflecting most—but three pierced through, grazing her thoracic area with shallow gashes.
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She groaned, a low rumble of pain, but her eyes glowed—fury mingled with exhilaration, like a demon reveling in the fray. “Is this getting to you, Connor? I’d be mad too,” she laughed, her voice rising as she levitated, vines erupting from the cracked turf below, coiling around her like living armor. “But that’s not only what you did.”
The sun dipped low, casting her as a silhouette of pure dread—a swamp monster from some Floridian nightmare, towering and inescapable.
“When I saw you spying on Jamal, I was going to use that to get the council's eyes on you. But then, you attacked me with that clearly overpowered mallet—and while I was agitated, you have no idea how agitated I was, I could only be grateful. Because of everything you presented me with!” she shouted from her aerial perch, her words whipping through the wind.
I scanned the pandemonium frantically. Spectators gawked at our duel in horror, their screams blending with the agents' gunfire and the aircraft's ominous drone. Security herded them toward exits, but the stadium was a pressure cooker of fear. What could I do? The vines—she'd given me a ladder. If I climbed them, used them against her...
But before I could act, the vines animated, lashing out like giant tentacles—grabbing, swiping, each one a deadly hand intent on crushing me. I danced through the assault, dodging lunges that cratered the ground, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.
Now or never. I leaped onto the nearest vine, bounding from one to the next like a desperate acrobat, closing the gap. Ten feet—almost there. As I jumped for the final push, a vine shot toward me like a dart. I grabbed it mid-air, swinging it wildly toward her before channeling lightning through my glove, a bolt arcing straight at her chest.
Her vines converged in a protective barrier, absorbing most of the strike—but the force sent her reeling backward into the stands, crashing through seats with a metallic screech.
Now we both hung in the air, suspended by her own creations. To close the distance, she conjured two water whips from thin air, lashing them around my waist and yanking me toward her. Before I could react, she cracked her wand across my skull. The world dissolved into an LSD haze—colors smearing, shapes twisting in a psychedelic blur.
Instinct took over. I summoned ice beneath me, forming a slick slide that carried me down to safety. I hit the bleachers hard—metal this time—my entire body a symphony of agony. I winced, eyes squeezed shut, blood pooling from cuts and bruises, tears streaming down my cheeks unbidden.
“You failed—the moment you went down those stairs... Connor,” Mari gasped, her voice echoing from somewhere unseen as I faced the scorched field, flames dancing like malevolent spirits.
My head spun like a hamster wheel, consciousness teetering on a knife's edge. Through the blur, a figure emerged—shadowed by fire, radiating darkness—limping toward me with slow, deliberate steps. She was injured too, blood seeping from wounds, leaving a crimson trail like a slasher film's aftermath. Her wand dangled loosely, slick with gore.
“From there... all I had to do was convince Jamal and his guys that you were me, sent to assassinate Malachi. Proof? What you did to me, and how he was tied to Malachi. From there, you all became the perfect distraction for each other,” she breathed, finally looming over me, her face half-obscured by blood, as if doused in crimson paint for some twisted prank. It dripped from her chin in lazy rivulets.
I tried to sit up, gripping the bleacher edge behind me, but it was like commanding jelly to stand. Mari noticed, of course. With mocking gentleness, she propped me against it, then knelt—her back clearly wrecked, forcing her to hunch.
She studied me for a long, agonizing moment, then wheezed a laugh, patting my right cheek twice—stinging slaps that blurred my vision further. “The euphoria I get from seeing you suffer... it’s wonderful,” she sighed. “It just amazes me. I thought you were a force of nature, an adversary to be reckoned with, but you’re just a clueless wretch.”
She shook her head, exhaling in feigned disappointment.
“Everyone was so blind to the bigger picture. Is this what the great YMPA has come to?” she murmured. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being here as long as I have: You guys don’t actually try to solve the problem—not yet. You need someone to blame first, so you can keep your pathetic careers.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I rasped, defiance flickering despite the pain.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Exactly,” she countered, her eyes boring into mine. “Everyone’s just trying to save their own backs. All that led to was a goose chase—you, Jamal, the entire schoolboard scrambling for a quick scapegoat, never seeing the big picture. The person pulling all the strings.”
“So what then?” I demanded through clenched teeth, my voice a ragged whisper. “You’re just gonna walk away, thinking we won’t fight back?”
“Jesus, man... of course not. But who cares? We got what we needed, and I plan on bringing back an extra present too, Connor,” she rasped, her grin feral.
“No, no, no,” I pleaded, panic surging as I clawed backward with frantic speed, terror overriding the fire in my limbs. But it meant nothing.
She seized my legs, dragging me across the jagged metal. I screamed, thrashing wildly, kicking against her grip in vain.
“No! Get off me! Get off!” I shrieked, tears cascading like rain. “No! No!”
But she ignored it all, pounding my legs with her elbow at every cry, muttering through gritted teeth: “Would—you—”
She hauled me into position, then raised her wand slowly, each inch an eternity of impending doom. The air thickened, my heart hammering a final dirge.
And with one brutal blow, she plunged me into the abyss.