Matthew watched the recording with a blank expression.
People threw around that term a lot—blank expression. But not many could cobble together a good poker face when under stress.
People thought they could, but they usually give something away. They might be hiding their real feelings well, but their mask was smug or confident or some other flavor.
To make the kind of mask that anyone looking at you would second-guess themselves, unsure of what was going on behind your eyes? That took some practice.
If Matthew’s people could read his mind—thank God, they couldn’t—they would be shocked to find their calm and collected leader was throwing an internal tantrum.
Another one!
Another faction was entering the ring.
In the footage, a young woman in her late teens or early 20s dodged a punch from a man dressed in all black.
White light shimmered around her shoulders before she drove her fist into his gut.
The guy had over 50 pounds on her and half a foot in height, but he still blasted back like he was on wires.
A hound covered in shadows ran alongside the woman, striking at people with shocking speed. Skills seemed to slide off the hound, just barely missing him when Matthew was sure they were going to land.
Matthew wanted to bury his face in his hands. He had spent the last week reviewing every possible scenario, every faction he knew of, and every encounter that might happen.
And now he was going to have to do it again. It shouldn’t take him too long to make plans for one group, but from the footage of their fights, they were strong.
A few quick Google searches didn’t bring anything up on the girl.
But an old woman with dogs? That rang a bell. He had watched the Contest like a hawk. He’d seen her and the man with the shields.
He hadn’t seen any recent footage of the old man or the last member of their group. Not recently.
The young woman wasn’t with them during the Contest, but someone had leaked footage from the Dimond Mall Security cameras. She was with that group.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Matthew’s Skill pulsed in the corner of his vision, eager to be used. Hungry for conquest, for victory.
He sighed, his blank mask breaking.
Character Sheet: Matthew Horner: Level 11
Class: Strategist
Epic
Class Skill: The strategist
Epic
Effect: you notice details and retain them with far greater ease. Plans you make or enact are easier to remember and communicate.
The more detailed the plan, the more powerful the benefits. But the less flexible. The more general the plan, the more leeway you have, but it will be far less potent.
Cooldown variable.
Range: X
Energy cost: variable.
He hadn’t planned to move for several more days, so coming up with a new set of strategies wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.
He rubbed his face.
His Skill was amazing in many regards, but it had a tendency to leave things out in its description.
It had a sort of soft cap on the number of plans he could have prepared at once.
He said soft because it wouldn’t actually stop him from making more plans. But it took time to develop a detailed plan that wasn’t so specific it was useless. And then, he had to take the time to explain it to everyone and drill them on it.
And well, that was happening he had to keep the plan firm in his mind and pour energy into it.
His Class and the Skill made that easier, but when you were dealing with half a dozen plans at once?
He was going to need some Tylenol.
Matthew stared at the recording with growing annoyance.
“Boss?“ Ronnie asked beside him. Ronnie was a short, thin man with close-cut black hair, light brown skin, and warm brown eyes. He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a black T, despite the weather.
Matthew stayed quiet, turning to walk through the door and onto the fake turf of the dome. The white ceiling stretched high above, and it made him feel small.
The massive building was a godsend for training away from the cold. Though he wished they’d limited their more destructive Skills to outside use only sooner. The 10-foot crater in the middle of the field annoyed Matthew every time he saw it.
He stretched, letting the soreness drain from his limbs. He’d been an office worker before all this; he was no stranger to his body protesting what he did to it. He was unused to how quickly he recovered now. Hell, I didn’t even bounce back in college this fast.
He started at the crater, and his mind began to turn back to the problem at hand. He sighed again. “You know we’ve seen a lot of stupid names since all this shit started.“
Ronnie nodded, his short black hair gleaming in the fluorescent lights. “True, There’s one group called The Hardcore. I don’t think anyone’s topped that yet.“
Matthew scowled. “True. But while this isn’t that dumb, it still pisses me off that I’m going to have to lose sleep tonight making plans for Old Timers Inc.”