Chapter 8—Risky Gambles

Trefor closed his eyes as the taxi took him to the administrator's office, thinking about the first time he met her and the first time he became a grade. He was one of the first to be graded. The process had only appeared five years ago, and nobody quite knew what it meant. It happened the same way as this announcement, though. Scouts were being interviewed about what they experienced out there and without even the slightest warning, Justine appeared on the screen. She announced it like she knew something a lot of them did not, and in fairness, she did, but not nearly as much as any of them would later hope. Orders came down that some of them would be specially chosen, and she wanted to size them up before they could take the test.

It had only been five years, but she seemed a lot younger back then. She had been in charge for two years at the time and seemed more hopeful than the hard-edge woman she was now. She was far more terrified, too, insofar that he could feel it when he met her, see it in her eyes when she met his. She did not want him to die. She didn't want anyone to die. Somehow, she got that position while she still valued life. He felt sorry for her. Still, some of the woman she became peeked through. There was no delusion that the grading test would be an easy one. There was no suggestion that they'd go through this process and come out unharmed. Back then, Justine knew the grading grounds were dangerous, so Trefor couldn't understand why she seemed so flagrant about it now.

He didn't stop to sign in when he came into the office. The receptionist saw him and opened the way, leading to an elevator ride that was just as contemplative. He wasn't surprised to see Justine waiting when he came in, with two glasses on the table and a bottle of whiskey prepared. Trefor didn't drink, and she knew that, but the bottle always came out when he came over, and he assumed it was like that for all the grade captains. He sat, and she filled up her glass.

"Gotta knock back a few drinks to steel your nerves, don't you?" He bit, and she laughed sharply.

"Coming in judgy?" She smirked. "I must have the best of luck."

“You know why,” He shook his head. “You’re opening the Grading Grounds to Graduates and Numbers? Are you insane?”

“I must be.”

"Then you understand how insane this is. The Graduates are going to have trouble themselves. I could understand any Numbers from 1–150, but up to 400? You're asking for a bloodbath."

"And yet I don't have a damned choice, do I?" She finally bit back, and he felt something boil between them. "You look like shit, if I'm being honest. I'm guessing the City was beating your ass."

"It's been a bad night. Two nights ago, things were going like they usually were, but toward the turn of the morning things got worse, fast."

"I bet they did," she sat back. Unfortunately for me, they started shitty two mornings ago. Grade A took some brutal hits out in the City."

Trefor's jaw tightened. He knew how this went. The higher your grade, the further you can go into the city. He had only seen the border of the A-district at the worst times. It wasn't something he wanted his team to ever brave. Hell was horrific enough without diving down another level.

“What happened?”

“Silas barely came back alive. A lot of Grade A didn’t. We have about seven left.”

“Seven?” He almost jumped out of his seat. Silas was bad enough, but to only have seven Grade A’s at a time like this felt like trying to face an army of 1,000 with 20 eager farmers.

“Seven.” Justine flatly replied. “To make matters worse, Silas is out of commission and I sacrificed Judge to get us an advantage. I’m calling in favors I hoped I’d never have to call in, and yes, accepting Grading Ground conditions that tells me I’m about to send hundreds of people to an early grave.”

“Why? What could have changed between us leaving and us coming back?” He meant that for both the Enclave and the world outside.

"Sacrificing Judge paid off." She laughed bitterly. We got a bunch of information and maybe found a way to actually make this world better. I don't get how. I don't have the means to get how, but I do have the Grading Grounds and a chance to level the field. What's a few hundred to the thousands we have here?"

“You might be sacrificing thousands too.” Trefor answered.

Justine sighed, “Well, I guess it’s time for your report.”

"The districts have gotten worse. I don't know what happened out there, but a simple rescue mission turned into an intense fight for our lives. The monsters,” He never liked that word; it felt too weak for what they dealt with, "Have multiplied and become more ferocious. We saved a lot of people, but the City was a warzone when we moved through." He waved a hand over her desk, and the current configuration of the City popped up. He indicated each district and met her eyes. "Threats that would be A-Grade have slipped into the B-District. We were lucky that a lot of them ended up fighting each other, but we couldn't avoid them all. Worse, some parts of the City seemed to have fallen under certain monsters' commands." He circled a region to the west. "Angel-like monsters were circling in this area. They didn't seem to care about us and mostly focused on others."

“Angels,” Justine murmured.

“That’s the part you’re focusing on?”

“It’s the first time any of you have described the monsters as something recognizable.”

“Well, some of them looked like great apes. Others looked liked bipedal lions. What does all of this really matter, admin?”

Justine sighed, and he could almost see a vault opening in her eyes. "Those things aren't monsters; they're demons. There's this long and complicated story to it, but the short version is that you just confirmed some things." She was thinking. He wondered what lies she had told in her last meeting and if she regretted them now.

"Demons…" He murmured and realized he had said it with the same reverence. "Are you implying something Biblical, or is this something else…?" Could it be something else? Could Angels and Demons exist outside of a biblical context?

Justine sighed again. “Does it matter? What if I told you Moses was parting the red sea right now? Would it change any of the stuff we’re dealing with?”

He shook his head. It wouldn't. He saw an answer to many questions and jumped at the chance to get it. If Satan came knocking at the Enclave's door, all he could do was fight and hope the devil himself wasn't as bad as the stories said. "Then I'll continue…I feel like what we witnessed was some turf war. I'd almost say gang war with how simplistic it was. If a demon," That word felt better, "was a different color, they struck it down. The way it looked didn't matter. Some demons fought alone while others seemed to be making alliances."

“You saw that much?”

“Some of the survivors we found did.”

“Found?” Justine cocked an eyebrow.

"Grays have all but disappeared from the City. All we've ran into were survivors running from demons. Some of them were what we usually encountered, people who were living in demon nests, but others seemed like they didn't know what was going on."

“That sounds like a processing mess.” She grimaced.

“It will be.” Trefor nodded. “I left my squad back there to help out, but you’re going to be busy.”

“One thing after a god damn other. I wish there was a person I could toss this job on.” She said this mostly to herself.

"I'm going to make it worse because some of those demons are just roaming. They're attacking whoever they can and they're invading territories. The Districts are going to change. Soon, ten miles is going to be A-territory. B and C might not even make it outside of five miles. Scouts are worthless."

“And you’re not done, are you? Still waiting to drop the other shoe?”

“The Grading Grounds reflect the severity of the City. With the way things are now, people are barely getting through the first gate.”

Justine closed her eyes and sat back, chewing on his words. He couldn't read much about her without them, but he could feel she wouldn't budge. This silence wasn't about rethinking things. Hell, he wasn't even sure she could change the entry permissions at this point. This silence felt like she was considering her words, and when she opened her eyes, it was clear she found them.

“How old are you, Trefor?”

“Thirty-four.”

"So you were just a kid when everything went to shit. I bet the scouts looked like superheroes when they picked your family up."

They did. While they seemed more like soldiers looking back when everything was horror, and your uncle turned into a howling gray copy of himself, anyone coming to your rescue seemed like Superman. He nodded, “Yes. It’s why I wanted to become a Grade.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"The difference five years can make." Justine laughed. "Well, Trefor, back then people became soldiers cause they had bills to pay and few options to pay them. They bought into the whole, fighting for our freedom thing, but the military can only be hell. You’re being trained to be killers after all. I had an older cousin my parents sort of hated. I mean, they talked about him like they hated him anyway. I remember a lot of conversations with my aunt that went something along the lines of, ‘I had to kick him out at eighteen so he could make it in the world.’ He joined the military, and then they were mad he wasn't giving her money." She filled her glass and took a sip.

“Where is this going?” Trefor asked.

“When I was young and hopeful, I told myself I’d become the president one day, and make it so you didn’t have to join the military to survive. I’m laughing at myself right now, because I really don’t have a damn choice. We need soldiers, Trefor. We need people who can fight, regardless of why they want to. We have to be alright with people dying, because if we aren’t, we aren’t fighting in the first place.”

Trefor felt his chest go cold.

Justine’s eyes were colder.

“What happens when those demons come knocking?” She asked.

“Slaughter.”

“So like you said, I’m might be losing thousands either way. When you came here, with all that information, did you think you were going to change my mind? Hell, if you were in this spot, would you change yours?”

It was his turn to close his eyes, but he wasn't thinking over his response. He was putting himself in that seat, having to hear every awful thing about the City for five awful years, get death reports, sit through one failed mission after the other, and somehow stay afloat, even if he did find himself in a bottle. He opened his eyes but couldn't say he saw the administrator in a new light. No, this room felt decidedly lacking in it.

“What should I do?” He replied coldly back.

“Find the Graduates and Numbers you think have the best chance. Train the hell out of them over the course of the next few days, and hope that a few days is all you need.” Justine replied.

Trefor stood and nodded respectfully. "Will the deaths be worth it?" He had to ask, had to hope that she still knew something that'd make this easier to bear.

Justine smiled, and it made his skin crawl. “I gambled with Judge, and got something back. I’m gambling again, Trefor. Let’s see if the house wins…”

⁘⁛All on Black⁛⁘

403 didn't get much sleep after hearing the announcement. All Numbers up to 400 would get the chance to graduate, and here he was at the border, far removed from the chance to take another step. He lay awake weighing his options, trying to find a way to climb three ranks in three days, but eventually, sleep claimed him, and he woke up with no new options on the table. After a shower and breakfast, he entered the main hall to see a lot of tests underway, a battle between others in 400 and those above fighting to keep their place. It almost made him laugh, but mostly at himself. He wanted to do everything in his power to climb, and his options were few. This was the story of his life so far, and he was about to go back to his room and sulk until Fang's words came back to him.

"Don't let the past decide who I am today?" He turned back to the list of competitions. Fighting was the best way to do it. No other score would let him climb fast enough. He clenched his fist and set off again, this time toward a different room.

234 was inside, reclining easily. He opened the door from his bed as 403 came knocking and genuinely looked shocked when he stepped in. He sat up and laughed.

“Don’t tell me you want to get into the Grading Grounds.”

“Don’t you?” 403 felt his voice shake as he said it. He cleared his throat. “Don’t you plan to try?”

“Of course I do! But unlike the rest of those ants scurrying around, I’m in a good position. Nobody that low is going to shift my rank, and if they do it’s not falling that far.” He lay back again. “I’m good, no matter what.”

“You’re good as a Number, but will you be good enough for the grounds?” 403 couldn’t let him relax.

“What? Are you saying I’m weak!” 234 barked.

“I’m saying that you’re not above 100. Even Assassin wasn’t above 100, and he was stronger than a lot of people who were.”

“Not strong enough to survive out there.”

“Which is my point! Could you beat him?”

234’s eyes flashed, even as he ignored the question. He had tried many times in duels and team competitions. Assassin didn't stay at the top for minor reasons. Bringing it up was a sore spot, but he needed 234 charged.

“Well, you couldn’t exactly beat him either, could you? In fact, can you beat anybody?” 234 smirked.

403’s chest hurt, but he pushed on. “No…which is why I’m here. I can’t get above 400 by myself. I’m not strong enough, agile enough, tactical enough, or whatever. My mechanical score is good but…”

“There’s no lab test you can hide behind. Which doesn’t sound like my problem.”

“But you don’t have a good mechanical score, which is your problem.”

234 rose from the bed and stomped over. He stared 403 down, eyes burning with challenge. If he looked away, 234 wouldn't listen to a word he had to say, so 403 met those eyes, and the feeling that told him this would escalate further.

“We need to do what Fang told us.” He replied as firmly as he could. “Whatever happens, I can help you understand it, and we can work together to get my score up.”

234 laughed. “Oh! That’s your game. I’m not doing what that girl told me to do.”

“A-amplifying your Luminance makes you a lot stronger, but we don’t have a Luminance to amplify. Could you even beat 214?” Another sore spot. The two were more evenly matched, but amplification always pushed 214 ahead. “What if terminating our luminance is the best step.”

"You do it then since you're so ready to follow her."

He already planned to. "Then…duel me…if I land even a hit on you, you have to work with me!" And there was the gamble. A team competition was 403's best chance, and most people wouldn't team up with him. 234 certainly wouldn't, but he wouldn't back down from a challenge, either. 403 just had to land one hit, and the fury in 234's eyes told him he'd make that hell.

"All right, fine." He grinned something wild. "Meet me in the dueling hall. I'll remind you why your number hasn't changed in a while." He stomped out as if it wasn't his room, and 403 followed, then split off to go to equipment.

He slid a practice band on his wrist, hoping it would work like the real deal. Finding a private room, he held his arm out and swallowed hard.

"Luminance: terminate…" he called, and the band transformed. It was in motion, needles spinning against his arm, the entire thing going black… Then, the room around him darkened, shadows crawling up the wall, leaving him floating in an abyss.

He gasped and tried to find where his feet should be, but he was all alone; the world was gone. His heart raced, and his breath left him. He wasn't even sure there was air to breathe, but he knew he couldn't catch it. The darkness seemed to grow out around him, and it felt like he'd never go back. He floated in the emptiness helplessly until a smile broke. If it was a choice between infinite darkness and never graduating, darkness was fine.

He closed his eyes and bathed in it, feeling it move in, sliding inside him, filling him where nothing had before. He was on his feet when the room went back to normal, and found he missed the darkness. He reached out as if to call it back, and a drop swirled before his fingers and grew. He noticed, then, that there was some sort of symbol on the back of his hand—three hexagons arranged in a pyramid. He smiled wider and swirled around, finding the darkness swirling around him.

“This is great.” He buzzed. The wall behind him beeped. It was time for his duel.

He went to the room where 234 stretched, gauntlets around his arms looking vicious. 403 expected fear when he saw him but found solace in the darkness and found himself still smiling. 234 must have expected fear, too, because the smile gave him pause.

“Oh you’re feeling real confident, huh?” He grinned.

403 nodded, “Yeah. I don’t really feel like you can beat me.” He said easily, and 234 clenched his fist.

"Let's test that then! Start the game!" He called, and the room beeped down a three-count. A scoreboard appeared on the wall. The win condition was to score 200 hits. So...234 had taken this challenge as the ultimate insult.

The final beep buzzed, and 234 dashed in, guard up and close to his body as his feet skipped like stones across the floor. 403 raised his hands, but the first blow slipped through them and knocked his head back. A point ticked up, and 234 struck again, an uppercut hitting as 403 righted himself. Another point, and the number kept going, rights and lefts flying with cruel joy. He jumped and brought his fist down, tossing 403 to the floor.

234 bounced back to let him up, and 403 wiped blood from his mouth and nose.

"I can't beat you, right?" 234 kept his footwork going. 403 picked himself up slowly. "Come on then!" 234 flitted in and kicked him in the side, rolling him across the floor.

He came quickly after him, almost skating forward as 403 bounced off a wall. Seeing that same ugly barrage coming, catching the 33 hits already scored, 403 touched the floor and called to the darkness again. Stone went black, and 234 seemed to sink into it. Confidence fell away as 403 sent him airborne, pushing the floor making a wave. It almost made 403 laugh to see him dangling there, fear filling his eyes as he returned to the ground. But then he stuck the landing and charged, burning with hotter rage.

403 form the darkness into a wall between them. 234's fist crashed against it, but though it shook and wobbled, it didn't feel like it'd come crashing down. It gave him a moment to think. As far as the score went, the darkness didn't count. It could be anything he wanted, however, liquid, solid, he supposed even gas as well. It was at his command, and so long as he held it, there was nothing 234 could do to reach him. Maybe strength wouldn't even be enough to break free.

He let the wall go liquid, and as 234 punched through it, he wrapped him in a cocoon and sealed it to the floor. The man roared as he struggled against it, the cocoon shaking as he punched and pulled. 403 balled his fist and put his weight behind it, throwing a punch that made 234’s head spin. The score ticked up, and he raised his hand.

"I surrender." There came a buzz, and 33-1 flashed on the screen. He pulled the darkness off 234, who turned fast on him, eyes flashing, fist tight. He was expecting another punch, but those fists stayed at his side.

"You win…" 234 growled. He took several hard breaths and sighed. "I didn't think you had that in you, 403. I guess Fang was right.” He laughed.

403 shook his head. "I'm not 403 anymore." That was still his number, but he finally knew his name. "Call me, Magician." He said it proudly, and didn't let it falter as 234 gave him a look.

“Magician? Whatever. What’s your plan then, Magician?”

"We're going to terminate your luminance too, then train. Then, tomorrow we'll join a team competition."

If 234 had reservations, they were gone now. He knew when he was fighting someone he couldn't beat. He might think about it later and how to win, but he offered his hand for now, proving to be a man of his word.

“Alright…let’s see if this pays off for you.” They shook on it, and Magician thought he had a better tomorrow…

[Chapter 8 ends…]