Chapter 12- Need a Hand

  I knew teaming with others was a bad idea, but in desperation, I did it anyway. Stepping onto a disk, throwing me up into the air.

  It’d been evident from the slight wobble that the other team was getting ready to hop on. I told the others to prepare, but I was the only person who stepped on as the platform rose. I grappled the edge at the very top, hearing the opposite group fall to their demise. In a second, I’ll be next. Without thinking through, or rather hoping it’d be safeguarded, I released my fingers and fell.

  A fifty-foot drop.

  I land on the ropes and feel a crunch in my left forearm before rolling onto the ring. It takes another second for the pain to process, then I let out a cry. I clutch the top of my elbow, nails digging into the fabric, sucking in the excruciating pain.

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  My ears buzz. Cerena is on the line. “Qonni, are you alright?”

  “What the fuck? No!” I take in deep breaths. “What did I break?”

  “According to the system, your left ulna.”

  I don’t know what to make of it. The pain is unbearable.

  “Take me out,” I say. “Then send me back, I don’t care if I restart.”

  The line pauses for a while. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. In the Arena, there’s only so much I can safeguard. And falling from a height isn’t one of them. So I assume you likely broke your real ulna in your body.”

  If that’s the case, it’ll only be a few more minutes before the bones in my body regenerate whole again. SNO is the real problem here, sending false pain signals to my brain. I need it gone.

  “I’m going to take you out and check.”

  “Will I come back in?”

  “Your team will be immediately disqualified the moment you’re in the lobby.”

  “No!” I blurt. “Do not send me back!”

  Cerena sighs deeply. “I cannot allow you to continue with an injury like this.”

  “I’m fine,” I hiss. “It’s just a sprain.”

  “Look—”

  “If you take me out, I’m barging back in. This is your fault, Cerena. How do you allow this to happen on your watch? How do you allow the ring to flip this high without a safety net? The fall shouldn’t even be an option!”

  I’m heaving and screaming my words. Cerena is quiet on her end.

  “I didn’t expect anyone to see a drop at this height and think it’d be a good idea to not cling onto the course with their life,” she finally says professionally, with a brewing storm in her tone. “Actions have consequences. Treat the Arena as you would in the real world.”

  I do.

  “My options for you remain the same,” she continues. “I can take you out now, and you’ll—”

  “I’m staying.”

  I hear her breathing heavily. “Good luck, then.”

  I spend the next few minutes gathering myself, hoping my arm will heal. It does; every shatter of bone restitches itself whole, muscles and cells return to function. But SNO doesn’t leave my system, and continues to send shocking pain as if it’s still broken.

  I lie against the ropes, regretting my original statement. If I ask nicely, Cerena may pause the SNO, or however this nanophene tech works. In my peripherals, players are coming up from the balance beam. Raze up ahead. I reach down as far as my hands can reach and toss rocks along his path. He needs to get out or at least delay his arrival.

  When all the rocks are out of my reach, someone climbs up the ring. Raven slides under a rope and into the floor. I’ve never been so relieved to see her, but at the time, she’s the last person I wanted to see.

  She gawks at me on the ground, and I unclutch my arm. The pain is massive. No matter how much I pretend I’m only resting, Raven catches on.

  “What’s wrong with your arm?” She walks my way.

  My body feels the need to edge back, the ropes stretching across my shoulder blades. “Nothing. I fell on it…the wrong way.”

  She pauses in her next step. A wind of disbelief. “Well, just don’t be a liability.”

  I want to kill her where she stands. Any slight movement strikes with staggering pain to my entire left side. The longer I remain in the Arena, the less I think I can fend for myself, let alone endure the whole clown fest when it comes.

  “Where’s…” I forgot Falcon’s name. “Boxer boy?”

  Raven glances over the ropes. “Taigo”—she pronounces it Tah-ee-go—“fell from the balance beam. He’s back to square one.”

  “Damn it.” My breath is thin. Sweat forms over my back and soaks the roots of my hair.

  Raven steps closer. She must’ve heard something in my voice, or maybe the fact that somewhere in the conversation, I instinctively grabbed onto my arm again.

  “I know that clutch,” she says neutrally. “Had my arm crushed last month.”

  So that’s what happened to her.

  “It’s SNO,” I assure her. “It’s not real.”

  And even if it were real, I’d be back up and punching by now.

  “Well, you sound constipated, so—”

  Another player enters the ring, and it’s not our last teammate.

  Raven turns her back to me. “Why don’t you sit this one out?”

  I’d love to, but something about that statement rubs me the wrong way. What does she mean? I can handle my own.

  “As if—” I’ll let you have all the fun, I want to say, but all I can manage is to suck in my teeth.

  “Good lord,” she mutters before stalking her opponent, fist up and ready.

  I return to focus on myself. Can I really do this? All the pain I’ve ever experienced only lasts a few minutes at most, never endured for this long until I’m soaked in sweat, my mind hazy, my complexion wan. This is the first and only time I ever feel like a normal, fragile being.

  How do people live like this?

  More players breach the ropes, brawls break out, and chaos ensues. Only a matter of time before someone notices the weak player on the floor, clutching her arm. I need to stand. Biting down the pain, and using strenuous effort to pull myself up from my knees.

  I’m on my feet now. Thank god. The ground sways, and before I know it, I’m leaning against the ring pillar for support. I maintain deep, slow breaths, assess the floor, and keep track of the team colors. No signs of Falcon anywhere.

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  A contender enters my proximity, her gaze on me. My screen locks in and shows me her profile. Viper.

  She takes a fighting stance towards me; I take a cowardly step back.

  Wrong move. I would never shrink from a fight.

  Viper senses it immediately. “Good riddance, what happened to you?”

  “If you come any closer, you’ll find out.”

  Viper huffs. “Fine. I wasn’t going to hit a cripple. But since you’re asking for it…”

  “A cripple?”

  Viper swings a quick leg to my side. The pain makes me sluggish and slow to react; I almost didn’t dodge in time. She continues her strikes toward me in what Cerena would call a martial manner. Easily predictable and counterable. She’s going easy on me.

  An insult to my injuries.

  On my next step, I trip over two brawling players wrestling on the ground. I break into a stumble, minding to fall on my good side, but the impact spreads regardless. I hold the pain and crawl out, knowing Viper’s only a few feet away.

  Her shadow falls over me. She raises a leg. I cower away, arms over my head, and steel myself for a kick, wherever it hits.

  Raven rams her into a foam pillar. Viper saw none of it coming. She takes the brute force hard, a speeding car into a deer, sprawling on the ground.

  “You bitch,” she moans.

  Raven flips her over, forcing her to the edge. Her lower body hangs off. A stubborn hand on the ropes, the other sticky on Raven’s arm, pulling her down with her. Raven inches forward, losing the tug against the taller girl’s weight.

  Keeping my broken arm stiff, I pull forward just enough to send a kick to the rope. The oscillation rips her grip off, and Viper tumbles down the dome.

  Raven’s panting hard. She stands and swings her gaze back to the crowded ring, unwilling to leave her back exposed. She’s won her other match and is now ready for more. Bearing the weight of two.

  She hardly bats me a glance. “Why don’t you get off the ground and be useful?”

  I can’t. This pain has robbed me of any pride. I’d rather be on the ground, licking my wounds.

  “I’ll stay here,” I say, my voice thin. “You go defend yourself. I’ll try not to fall off.”

  The ring surges with players. Most of the teams have arrived and are spiraling in their own fight, wrestling on the ground, putting opponents in headlocks, and choking each other out. Grunts and yelps fill the air. Like watching a bar fight commence. None of the martial discipline Cerena asked for.

  A true clown fest.

  She makes a pissed off tsk with her tongue. “Pathetic,” she spits at me. “You haven’t fought a single person.”

  “I can’t fight with a single arm. I can’t even stand on my own.”

  This pain fills me with so much anger and humiliation, and most of all irritation, that I’m not afraid to admit defeat.

  “This is the first time I’ve ever heard so many can’t’s from you. What’s next? You can’t win?”

  “Win? Look at me.”

  She scoffs in my direction.“Fine with me. Suppose you like second place so much. Maybe it’s where you belong.”

  My jaw clenches. “You’re dumping fuel on a dying match.”

  “Your choice.”

  “What, you think we can win?”

  Falcon’s nowhere to be seen. I’m out of commission. Raven’s on her own against all seventeen opponents. Some of these fights started as Cerena intended—clean and professional—but after a while, it became messy and chaotic, as I fathomed. Now, in desperate measures, there are some players putting others in chokeholds, striking against the side of the velm, everything Cerena will pause to deduct points from. An impossible feat in my condition, insane to even attempt.

  “It’s not what I think, per se,” Raven says. “It’s what I want. Now the question is, do you want to win?”

  “Of course I do,” I shamefully admit. “But I assume you'd rather watch me eat shit and lose this.”

  “Didn’t say I don’t. But we’re on the same boat, remember?” Her voice is surprisingly impassive. Calm amidst all the chaos. “And I don’t care if I’m on it with the worst person I’ve ever met, but I’d rather not sink with her.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Raven extends an open hand towards me. “So, are you going to sit there and sink or will you at least try to swim?”

  This gesture feels ridiculous, especially coming from Raven herself, when she should be mocking me, blaming this whole drill on me, leaving me to my demise, not this encouraging bullshit. What is wrong with her?

  My fist clenches. I should swat her hand away.

  But I can’t get myself to do so. Because she’s right; despite falling into the pits of my despair, I still want to win.

  “We’re on the same yacht,” I say, and clasp my hand into hers. With a firm grip, she pulls me to my feet, and we stand side by side. Panting and ready.

  We remain small, standing in any empty corner we can find, avoiding frivolous fights. We play our timing correctly, only engaging when Falcon is up on the floor. But there’s a large target on his back today. Every team keeps an eye out for him and surrounds him when he slips through the ropes. One against five. He’s able to dodge the first few swings before an unexpected kick strikes his guts, and he’s rolling off the dome.

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  “It’s fine,” Raven says. “The circle’s getting smaller. We’re in mid-game. It’s where things will slow. Players are exhausted from the early fights, and re-climbing the dome isn’t easy. Our best bet is to remain here. Because god knows what we’ll do if you’re knocked out of the ring.”

  I scan the field. Every team only has one or two players fighting. We sneak around the edge to find Falcon and get him back up without the vultures closing in on us. Then we’re one of the two teams with full members in the ring.

  Raze in the other.

  Falcon immediately gets chased by two other teams and breaks into a run.

  Bison rushes towards us, specifically towards Raven.

  “Stand back,” she tells me.

  I edge toward the ropes as she runs up to him. Crazy bitch. A yard before they connect, she leaps up, her legs high in the sky, one hooks onto Bison’s neck, and she throws her entire weight over him. The giant’s on the ground, his throat between her thighs, all in a single motion, as if she pitched herself as a horseshoe.

  “A frisbee, huh?” Raven jabs.

  If we can get Bison down, we’d win. I go to help, but someone steps in behind me.

  “Not so fast,” Raze says. I notice him too late. When I wrench my neck, he has one foot on my ankle, then I’m down the next second.

  I land on my good side to minimize the impact, but like before, it’s not much of a difference. Before I know it, I’m cowering helplessly on the ground in agonizing pain.

  “So it’s true,” he says, walking around me. He crouches on one knee. “They told me you were too hurt to defend yourself, but I just couldn’t believe it until I saw it.”

  “I’m still here,” I say, and roll on my back to face him. “Fight me.”

  I push myself up on my right elbow; He pushes me back down with a finger on my shoulder. I bite down on the urge to wince.

  “I think you should stay down,” he says, amusement in his voice rather than concern. “You’re in no condition to even lay a finger on me.”

  If he comes closer, I can knee him in the guts. But my attention snaps onto Raven. She’s winning the fight as Bison begins to slow on his tap-out, then comes Viper, knocking into her. Both are exchanging punches and kicks on the ground. Bison rolls on his hands, coughs out his lungs, and then excruciatingly joins his teammate. Raven is outnumbered.

  Falcon is lost in the midst of the rest of the class. I swing a fist in Raze's direction. Too slow. He dodges it and stands.

  “You’ll have to be quicker than that.” I can smell his smugness behind his velm. “Looks like it’s my victory again.”

  Footsteps approach. A green striped player takes Raze from the back. Both slam into the ropes, bouncing them back into the ring. Thank the lord. They tussle it out as I inch away towards Raven, struggling to keep Viper off her ass. She needs my help.

  Raze kicks the guy’s side, forcing him to stagger backwards and ultimately, to the ground near the edge, moaning in pain without the incentive to get back up again.

  “No, you’re not getting away,” Raze says, clutching his ribs and faintly limping toward me. He seems completely fine by the time he’s in front of me, and I’m ready for a fight, even if it’ll cost me another arm.

  He crouches down and slides an arm under my shoulder, the other under my knees, lifting me up.

  I clutch onto his fibersuit to stabilize myself. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “They’re taking too long,” he explains. “Isn’t it easier just to take you out instead? I mean, what will you do? Fight me?”

  My mind is racing, face heats. I squirm, kicking my legs, but all it does is bring immense pain to my body.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a monster,” he says. “I’ll carry you all the way back to your cell, where you’re safe. Then you can watch me return to the ring and take this win.”

  My fist tightens, but I couldn’t send the punch. I can hear the pleasure in his voice. He can hear my haggard breath through my teeth, full of agony and humiliation.

  Raven yelps. We swing our attention behind us. Bison picks her up from the mass and throws her over his shoulder.

  “Put me down, asshole,” she cries, kicking and flailing like a fish out of water.

  Bison strangles her waist and hurls her over the ropes. The moment she crosses the line, my screen blurs white. DEFEAT.

  The next second, I’m back in the gray-walled lobby with the rest of the class. The pain in my arm vanishes like I’d imagined it. It’s not real. But the pumping anger in my veins is still hot and boiling. My hand is still balled into a fist. Raze is still a foot from my face, carrying me in his arms.

  Like a stretched rubber band, my fist is charged and pulled so far before it snaps, and launches forward without hesitation. Only when it’s in the air, did I understand the gravity of my actions. But it’s too late for me to retract. My knuckles feel the velm crack. Raze’s head thrusts backwards, and he topples over to the ground. I roll into my ass.

  The room gasps a second later when Raze is on the ground.

  “You mother—” Raze blurts. He winces. With a light touch to his jaw, the lower half of his velm pops off its hinges and clatters to the floor.

  Blood drips off his chin.