“The fuck you’re talking about?”
Master Trainer punches my stomach. “Respect!”
I draw a sharp breath and hiss, “I’m not working with Hector, and I don’t know of any move against your house.” The last thing I need is to find myself neck-deep in local politics.
“You better not be lying to me, Defender.”
“I’m not.”
Elijah sighs and tells Master Trainer, “Get him ready with the rest. I want to leave early.”
“Sir, he’s not ready.”
“Then he’ll probably die.”
*
“Listen up, maggots!” Master Trainer shouts. We’re in the locker room of Denver Coliseum’s arena, an old industrial structure with enough seats for thousands of people. Ten of us are competing today, wearing burgundy synthetic leather armor.
“We’re starting off against House Moore, then we’ll fight against whoever wins the other match. Unfortunately, we have fresh meat with us today, and fuck if I know how it’s gonna play out.” He watches me, looking both pissed and curious. “Out there, you’re a part of a team. If you get separated, it will make you easy prey. Protect your brothers, or you have no chance.”
I taste bile thinking of the Raiders around me as brothers, but I swallow the insult and give a stiff nod. I don’t believe they’ve figured out I’m a Defender yet, but I don’t know how long this is going to last.
Elijah enters, and we all stand at attention. He tilts his head at me to follow him to the side of the room, and once we have privacy, he pulls out a syringe.
“For the pain,” he says.
“I’d rather not.”
“You stopped having opinions the second I bought you. You have zero experience in these games, and you’re still healing, so shut up and take this painkiller that cost me a shitload.”
I glance at the syringe. “Just painkillers?”
“I can give you sewage water if I want to, but yes, just painkillers. Raise your sleeve.”
He sticks the needle deep into my flesh, and I hiss because I hate needles. He pulls it out and says, “Your rivals out therearen’t supposed to know you used to be a Defender, and until they do, make sure to blend in with the rest of your team.”
I stop myself from saying I didn’tusedto be a Defender.
“The game ends when all members of the other team are down, but if you kill someone, your team will automatically lose. A game can take anywhere from a few minutes to an hour. If Hector gets bored, he can decide on a tie, though that rarely happens.”
“Hector’s here?”
He narrows his eyes in suspicion, and I can’t blame him. “He never misses a game. Now, I’m asking you again whether there is a plot against my house.”
“If there is, I don’t know anything about it. You have my word.”
He opens his mouth to likely say my word means nothing, but he stops himself and nods.
“I thought you had games to the death,” I say.
“Of course we do, but if all games were the same, people would have lost interest. Consider yourself lucky to have this as your first game.”
Yeah, never felt luckier.
Once he leaves, I return to the other fighters, where more glares await me. I can easily picture them backstabbing me the first chance they get, but I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt because I don’t have any other choice.
Master Trainer goes over the basic rules, then we stand in front of the entrance in a straight line, carrying heavy plastic sticks. We can use our fists and legs as well, but the sticks shouldbe our primary fighting tool, and we should be careful about hitting a rival’s head and accidentally killing him.
