One of the most common questions I get in and out of Titan is if I ever did any sports professionally. And I get why people say that; one look at my hulking frame and now lankier mane, but I never was interested. Sure, I got plenty of teacher requests, but being a hula hooper or ball juggler wasn't my cup of tea.

Instead, I did the more unconventional sports like wrestling, tennis, and swimming, nothing that got too many eyes on me or had me as a full-on team player. After I got into Titan's paintball circuit, though, I started getting a good idea of what it's like for those world-star athletes on TV right before the big game.

After a lengthy flight, we all got packed into our locker rooms like sardines before we could get a good read on the location or see the sights. A little dramatic, I know, but I didn't mind it. Finding any mystery can be challenging once you're in Titan long enough, so I savor what little I can get.

Beyond that, we waited, using the targets as training to get the lead out. After getting benched for a month and a half, I was worried I went a little soft, but after landing ten headshots on every rifle, I realized my aim remained true. As time passed, we heard the clamoring of more people collected in, forcing everyone to try and get out their jitters.

Joe and Jared arm-wrestled (with the latter keeping his undefeated record). Élise checked if their braids were in order. Henry kept playing heads and tails with April and May. I did press checks on all his paint guns. However, when I got bored of that, I went to the other room to find our other members in the prayer room.

It was small, and the forums wished there were separate rooms, but it got the job done as I found Antonia, Zoey, and Sharmeen praying. A Judasit, Christian, and Muslim all praying together would've probably been the start of a bad joke anywhere else. To me, though, it was a beautiful sight, to the point I almost felt bad for interrupting.

"Hey, I think we're going to start to be ready in 5 just wanted to let you know. "

"Okay," Zoey and Antonio said as they instantly cleared the room, making me get a good whiff of a flowery perfume.

Something I only smelled unless the wearer was a little stressed. When I looked at Sharmeen, I realized I was right on the money as I saw her dark sunken eyes clash hard against her light purple, lavender flower-oriented hijab.

"You alright?"

"I will be when this is all over," she says as she walks away.

For once, I kept my massive mouth shut as I instead peeled back into the training. The other Dogs went out into our outfits in a couple of minutes. Fashion was never my forte (except my suit of armor, of course, it'll always be baller), but Antonia has a secret eye for it. Each of us donned comfortable army green camo with various small scratch and claw marks, collecting together in a vest with a fierce black Doberman emblem drenched across our vests alongside a literal dog tag necklace designed by Henry.

Making us look at the top of our game as we finally started ours. After a near hour of saturated fluorescents, the late morning sun felt damn near blinding. Once they readjusted, though, I was greeted with an equally bright sight. From bleachers a mile high, people from every creed imaginable shook the stadium in cheers on both sides. Combined with the speakers' pulsating 808s, my heart swung around like a pendulum.

And that was just from the people who were here physically. The drones' skating streaks across the sky alongside the various holographic projectors showed even more bystanders, making it clear this event was seen through the thousands within Titan. Even with my imagination, I couldn't comprehend. So, instead, I kept focusing on the mundane like Élise's triumphant waves, Henry's horrid gestures, and the twins' joint poses.

After an eternity, we walked towards a small open stage, basking in the cheers. Until "they" showed up. Goosebumps popped over my body like a nasty rash off a single step. The barks for our victory transmuted into the rousing cheers of an army, raising the energy to crazy levels as "she" entered the battlefield. When we finally got the courage to turn around, I realized what Sharmeen had been discussing earlier.

"It's like you have this center of gravity around you, and we can't help but get pulled in."

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I still can't say I fit her bill, but I've been in Titan long enough to know a few do. People who can influence or inspire any emotion off sheer will alone. Like how my hair stands on end whenever I face Mr. Daniels' hellish heat. Or a cold goosebumps whenever Sarah's dread-filled darkness (which is still a cool feeling).

In this brief moment, though, Lexa's aura eclipsed them both, recapturing the image I had of her when we first met: a queen. With more dignity than any monarch, Lexa lorded over the crowd; her team drenched in red hooded cloaks while she strolled up to the stage donned gold-trimmed army camo and a spartan emblem on her shoulder. Once she stopped, so did the crowd through a wave of her hand.

"Yassas, Dogs of War. I hope you've rested well."

Sharmeen let out a large gulp, trying to step up to the plate, only to buckle underneath her sheer intimidation.

"یہاں ایک ہی,,"

It was so quietly shrill that Lexa only gave her a calm stare, boring straight into Sharmeen and locking straight onto me.

"Put on a good show for me James. I'd hate if your team disappointed."

Another influential player entered the field before more words or paintballs could fly.

"Now that we've got pleasantries out of the way, we can begin."

Lexa's spell of silence immediately broke into uproar again at Mr. Daniels's reappearance. The same yearning I felt for the other Dogs of War came in full effect as I couldn't help but give a subtle wave. As he waited for one last dramatic entrance, Daniels only gave a warm wink in response. Several drones then spun around him, projecting about ten small profile pictures.

"Who the heck are these guys?," Joe inquisitively whispered.

Zoey gave him a subtle smack in the head.

"I swear, man, I've seen ripe bananas that are greener than you. It's the Conclave."

"Think of them as the cabinet to Mr. Daniels president," I say candidly.

Mr. Daniels then interjected.

"Ahem."

"Sorry," we all said collectively.

"Now that the background chatter is over,I would like to welcome all of you and our audience at home to another rousing finale of this year's Paintball circuit."

The crowd erupted into applause as he continued talking.

"Especially during these trying times. As I've walked through the same hallways you've trudged through and shared the same meals you've eaten, I know that recent events have been hard. This Hidden War, our struggle with the Pantheon, has been a pressing challenge to us all. Even now, those who can't make it today are continuing the good fight for Titan and the world itself. This is why I implore you in their stead to enjoy every second of this occasion as on the Conclave, and I hand over the play-by-play announcements to the current director of our Historian division: Pager मुंशी."

A puff of smoke exploded from nowhere, revealing a coughing South Asian man with wavy black hair, curious brown eyes, and black hair. Once more of the cloud departed, I saw him dressed as a silky slick black achkan with small sliver book emblems down by each button. Paired with the white khakis and black loafers, he looked rather stylish while coughing.

"Hck! So that's what that feels like," he murmured to himself.

"Are you okay Mr. मुंशी-"

The Pager immediately slapped Daniels on the back, surprising the entire covert world.

"Just peachy, and please call me Scribe; all of my English speakers do."

"Alright, are you okay then, Mr.Scr-

Scribe then gave his chest one last pound before whispering to himself.

"Showtime Prasad," he says as he puts his comm-link on, "Thank you for the amazing announcement, Mr. Daniels! It's an honor to join my fellow Pagers of the past as we record Titan history in the making with our final finalists. On this corner, we have the Fatal Femmes, a generational powerhouse team that seems to have only performed better under their current head: Alexandria Pella!"

Scribe walked over to the titular woman, nearly tripping over himself as he handed her another comm link.

"Given the upset victory the Dogs of War had last year over you, what changes have you made this year to secure victory?"

Alexandria, in the same confident tone, simply said.

"I'm glad you asked Scribe. Simply put, this past year, after our loss, my team and I have put a far bigger focus on flipping the script and breathing new life and strategies into our plays. As a leader, I come to realize over and over that when faced with hardship, one must adapt or die. Something I'm sure our enemies and Dragoon will know soon enough."

Her green eyes flared towards Daniels as Scribe pulled back the comm-link case like it was signed.

"Oooh! Isn't that intimidating!?! That gauntlet is going to be a heavy one to follow up. But I'm curious nonetheless about Dogs of War. How do you intend to keep up the hot streak you've all been on since last year, Sharmeen Phool?"

The comm-link in the case might as well have been a loaded gun to Sharmeen as she nervously clutched her hijab while saying.

"The Dogs of War intend to win. Simple as that."

With the amount of dead air, both left hanging from the statement, I swear it could've filled the Hindenburg as Scribe continued talking.

"Well, that certainly was an ... answer. Regardless, it seems both teams are fired up as it is, so let's get on with the competition."

Scribe then clapped his hands, finally revealing the stadium we'll battle in. All the holograms and dizzying lights made it hard to guess our locale, but with fresh eyes, I realized we were stationed outside a large forest with a small paintball field.

Said field had several stock structures to replicate buildings, making it look like an old shanty town complete with elaborately painted overheads like "Saloon, Sheriff department, or Tonic store." Combined with the empty water towers, wagons, and large barrels, it was a suitable location.

"Both teams will be stationed on opposite sides of the map and start in 5 minutes to get into positions. If over 70% of your body is covered in the enemies paint color for whatever reason you will be disqualified. Any intentional whipping of enemies paint will be disqualified. Whoever has the most amount of team members remaining at the end of 2 hours will be the winner. Are there any other questions?"

The 20 of us responded instantaneously.

"No!"

Scribe gave out a smile as he awkwardly pulled out a starting pistol.

"Then in that case, let the games begin."

Our full-length charge immediately consumed the squeaky yelp he released from the recoil.