POV Seth

Squad VII was geared up in their white and black combat uniforms, knowing that they would be escorted directly from the Gala to the transport waiting for them outside of the Administration building, post curfew. Side by side with their black and orange opposition, they marched down the main avenue. Students craned their heads to watch their heroes march proudly toward the last game of the year.

Two bulky rectangular A.I. operated transports hummed at the foot of the Academy’s newly planted manicured gardens. Waiting at the side of each vehicle was a Gaming Commission Agent with bags of kit next to it. Both Agents were covered head to toe in layers of ritual robes. They covered their faces in an expressionless white mask. From their tall hats hung a black veil covering their false face.

Both teams lined up at their respective vehicles, one-by-one taking their kit wordlessly from their respective agents. Squad VII had the highest score for the year, they had rights to the first vehicle.

Squad VII filed into their vehicle, buckled up, and began their gear checks. Seth insisted on gear checks before every game, a practice that rarely uncovered foul play until closer to the finals. In the last game, the assigned eclectic collection of mismatched gear would challenge the squads’ technical skills and their ability to adapt within a limited time frame. Few teams had the level of technical know-how that Squad VII had developed.

Hope, Smith, and Esmey ran system checks on the energy weapons, helmets, and arm consoles, finding a handful of faulty units. As the first team finished, Smith, Wallace, and Gemma worked on repairs to damaged units while they passed pieces of body armor around for the best fit. Regina, Elle, Gerald, and Seth reworked delicate technical units. As the first team finished with their system checks, Rogers ran through the main readouts, double checking the first team’s work, and correcting technical errors that only he would have noticed. Erick scowled, arms crossed, leg resting on the nearest surface, scrutinizing his teammates for moving too slow, all without offering a helping hand.

The squad had learned to ignore Erick, whom they often referred to as a meat shield, a nickname that Erick was none too fond of. He was a potent vicious fighter who enjoyed causing long-term harm to his enemies. The problem was, when you got right down to it, everyone was his enemy. Calling him out promised pain that would never end.

Seth moved on from the fine details and helped his team secure the difficult pieces of their body armor, offering no help at all to Erick, who barked at Rogers and Smith to drop what they were doing to help him. Contempt spread across Erick’s face when Smith dropped the chip he was embedding into a working piece of gear. Elle salvaged the chip, offered it up, but Smith gave her the console to finish the work. Erick slapped Smith upside the head and ridiculed him for not having his priorities straight.

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Seth glowered. He dared not speak. It was night and silence was the rule. To people like Erick who had lived their whole lives within the demon shields, they took the rule for granted. Even if he prioritized his authority over the safety of his squad, Seth wouldn’t have ordered Smith back to his job. He knew that he’d get back to his work as soon as Erick finished bullying him.

Erick wanted the best pieces of tech for himself, not that he had any way of knowing the difference, or that the tech wasn’t the deciding factor in the games. In this gear set, the squad had few useful apps, and absolutely nothing that would enhance performance. But Erick was the type who believed that wearing the same unwashed underwear from the previous championship was a performance enhancer.

Erick narrowed his hateful eyes at Seth’s in silent disapproval, a promise that one of these days, he’d get what’s coming to him.

Regina slept as far away from Seth as she could, nestling next to the engine hum and the bulky Gemma, who pretended not to notice that she wasn’t in her usual place. Seth understood it was best for her to reduce contact, given the news she had shared with him a few nights prior. He didn’t think that included eye contact and conversation. Hope, Regina’s best friend, was in Regina’s usual space, drooling on Seth’s arm, occasionally fluffing him for her comfort.

“No food cubes?” Wallace shouted at Seth, breaking the rule. It was important information that needed dealing with before they arrived. Seth searched the bags at their feet, rummaging through every pocket, then folding the bag neatly into a pile. Wallace mimicked him.

In their excitement, they hadn’t thought to search for food or water. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d have to do without. In Seth’s first championship game, his squad had survived a month and a half on weekly supply drops. In the last couple of days of that first week, Seth had asked his captain if they were expected to forage. His captain had laughed at him for being a little twerp, but Seth had seen the panic in his captain’s eyes when the last of their rations were eaten up and they had to go three more days without food. After the supply drop, they had gone on half-rations thereafter.

Since his first victory, the last game of the year had been getting shorter. Under his command, Squad VII was increasingly more efficient and better prepared, compared to the opposition who had the tendency to hang out or accidentally reach victory. One thing was sure though, as the games inched closer to the finals, they became increasingly more ruthless. Winning by any means necessary was the rule.

The ride turned rough. They were close to the game site, a zone off-campus that had been scouted and sanctioned for the games. The only time of the year that Academy students ventured into the wildness to showcase their grit.

Included in their gear were two specialized items which were used only in the Championship games: a tracker to monitor the players, and a perimeter readout that herded players in a shrinking game-zone. The smaller the zone, the higher the risk of confrontation. Time spent outside of the perimeter was grounds for disqualification or, worse, forfeiting the game. No one in the history of the games has ever forfeited. Seth’s team would not be the first.

The hum of the transport stopped. They had arrived.