Today was the day. Ark opened his eyes and took a single, nervous breath, knowing it was time. Sitting up in his bed, he looked over to Mino, who looked back with the same tentative excitement that Ark felt in his chest. It was time.
A week had gone by since his confrontation with Alistor, resulting in a week of harsh training that had made Ark reminisce about the good old days in the Maze, where life had almost felt sweeter. Of course, there was an obvious difference: what Ark trained for now was himself and Mino; their own goals and desires, rather than being the brainless puppets of someone else.
Taking another breath, Ark swallowed and said, “It’s time.”
His voice echoed in their small room, reflecting off the hard walls with hopeful desperation.
“Yeah,” Mino said, getting to his feet, “Let’s do it.”
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It had been a long time coming. Mark Jenson had waited for this day for nearly two weeks, ever since the two newest members of the team had arrived. Ever since the gray-haired little shit, Ark, had shown his face, Mark had known he did not like the shifty bastard. Even now, as they stood at attention before Alistor, the scrawny boy that stood next to Mark was scrutinizing everything and everyone, weighing threats and opportunities much in the same way that—
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Alistor said, breaking Mark out of his thoughts and focusing his attention on what mattered. “We’ve got returning guests. Our two wayward troublemakers have decided to try their luck once again in our presence. Give them a warm welcome!”
A half-hearted response of mutters was all that Alistor got, and it made his grin widen with delight, seeing the expressions on Mark and the others.
“Ahh, just the sound of mutual cooperation that I love,” he said, baring his teeth like a predator. “To reiterate: I don’t care if you win this little test of skill, what I require is that you can challenge your peers. If you can’t, you don’t belong in this guild, not to mention a riftrun. That goes for all of you, but especially our returning members. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Instructor,” they all said in unison. Mark allowed himself a look at Ark through the corner of his eye. I’ll show you where you belong, he thought, imagining how he would dispose of the shorter kid. There were ways of making the simulated pain near-unbearable, and Mark figured it was time to test his mastery.
He had barely started to plan his detailed massacre, before Ark’s head turned and locked eyes with Mark in obvious challenge. Shivers of excitement running down his spine, Mark’s lips parted into a sneer, as the steely look in Ark’s eyes started to make his blood boil. It was that look of calculation that Mark resented more than anything else, the way that little shit looked like he was always formulating a plan, thinking ahead like a fucking machi—
“Jenson, you’re with Rex,” Alistor said, once again breaking Mark out of his thoughts.
Straightening, Mark saluted and stepped over to his allocated teammate. She gave him a nod as he took a position beside her, and he returned it without hesitation. Mark knew his place, unlike the newcomers, and he would fight to keep it.
“Ran and Naomi—you’re the second team,” Alistor continued, “Which leaves us our newcomers teaming up. To your positions, let’s have some fun, shall we?”
Mark saluted as Alistor walked off, and was about to turn to follow Rex, when he noticed Ark hoisting an elongated, steel case up over one shoulder. Mark had seen it when they had entered, of course, but the confident look that Ark had given him made him study it closer.
It was made from stainless steel, with reinforced corners and a rough surface. It had four latches and a handle in the middle, along with a shoulder strap that allowed for Ark to carry it on his back. Almost as long as Ark, it hung only a few hand-spans above the ground as he carried it. Whatever it was, it was clearly a secret weapon of some kind, and Mark could not wait to cut it into pieces.
“Are you curious?” Rex said, tapping him on the shoulder and following his gaze.
“You know what it is?” Mark turned away from it, eying the young woman beside him.
“Nope,” she said with a shrug, “He’s been really careful not to reveal anything. I know it’s from the armory, but that’s about it.”
“And you’re not worried?” Mark furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what her game was.
“Why should I?” She said, eying him with a raised eyebrow, “If it makes them useful, our team gets stronger. If not…” She made a dismissive motion in the air that needed no interpretation.
“That’s—“ How could he argue with that? While he wanted to punch in Ark’s stupid face, he could agree that it was more important that their riftrun succeeded. If they could prove themselves worthy of that—
Steely blue eyes set in an emotionless face, staring at him, judging him. A hand stretches out, clammy and cold against the skin of his throat. “Like father like son,” she says, her voice echoing in his head as the hand squeezes… tighter.
“Hey, you with me?” Rex punched him in the arm, and Mark blinked the vision out of his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m—“ Gritting his teeth, Mark focused on what was most important. Beating the shit out of Ark and that big brute of his. “I’m good.”
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“I sure hope so,” Rex said, sighing, “Look, I get it. You want to beat up Ark and Mino, yeah? That’s fine with me—I wanna test them out, anyway.”
“Good.” Mark felt himself settle into battle readiness, spine tingling with energy for the upcoming fight. Hand clenched around the handle of his sword, the world seemed right.
“Just, don’t overextend, you hear? They’ve clearly got a plan, and I can’t bail you out if you go out of reach.”
“I hear you,” Mark said, barely listening, as he took his position at one end of the training room. There was a buzzing sound in his ears that kept out all outside distractions. Mind focused like an arrow seeking its target, Mark was already preparing himself for the attack.
“I sure hope so,” Rex said, her voice almost drowned out against the buzz, “Or else I’m going to kick your ass.”
He ignored her, as he heard Alistor’s call for them to be ready. He hefted his sword, a big zweihander with a broad edge, and called upon the psions in his core to course through his veins, enhancing his strength and speed, preparing for battle.
“Field activation in 3…2…1…”
In an instant, the world changed around him. Warping and twisting, the white training room turned into a sandy floor and rocky cliffs, placing Mark and Rex in a narrow passage that led upward toward the center of the arena.
Accustomed to the transition, Mark set into an immediate sprint, certain that Rex would have his back. They had fought alongside many times, and worked well together. Taking the front was his job, and today he was thankful for it—it gave him the best position to chase down Ark, after all.
“It’s a labyrinth canyon,” Rex called from behind, “Without room to maneuver, Naomi has the advantage down a straight lane. Don’t get caught!”
“I won’t,” Mark called back, ears buzzing and eyes scouring their surroundings for any trace, any hint of the opponents. Racing forward, he felt unrestrained and free in a way that he never did during normal hours. The excitement was a palpable substance, coursing through his veins as he surged forward; feet moving lightly across the rocky ground and with his breath labored but steady.
Coming to a branch in the path, Mark chose the direction where Ark and Mino’s starting position had been, dashing into a widening passage that immediately branched further in three direction. Here he came to a halt, weighing his option while being on the lookout for either Naomi’s arrows or Ark’s bullets.
Rex stopped a few paces back, her whip and baton at the ready, she studied the paths with narrowed eyes and said, “You pick.”
Nodding, Mark intensified the psions pouring out from his core, enhancing his senses. With eyes able to penetrate the shadowy passages, and ears able to make out the slightest sound footsteps, Mark picked up the trace of someone moving in the path furthest to the right.
Snarling, his instincts called him to pursue. Sniffing the air, he honed in on the scent and was sure. The smell of deceit was heavy in the air, and there was only one person in the arena who it could be.
“Down there,” Mark said, his voice a harsh bark.
“Careful,” Rex said, reiterating caution, “We still don’t know what tricks they’ve hidden in their sleeve.”
“It won’t matter,” Mark growled, “I’ll smash it, whatever it is.” Without waiting for her response, he set off. Sword held at his shoulder as he ran, ready to cleave anything and anyone he came across.
The scent grew stronger, and he grew certain. This was it. With his footsteps echoing within the passage, Mark kept his eyes open and alert to any movement. Even with excitement overtaking his mind, he was still ready for any sign of Ark and his gun. It was the only threat he cared about—the big lug was too slow to matter.
A shine in the distance caught his eye, and operating on pure instinct, Mark changed his movements into a zig-zag pattern. The fire of a muzzle lit up in the darkness, but he heard nothing.
Silencer? Mark thought, his snarl growing wider. Was this it? Was that all that Ark had prepared?
Nothing hit him, and a look over his shoulder confirmed that Rex was following his lead, zig-zagging to avoid being hit. Turning back on the position where the shot had come from, Mark saw a wide-eyed Ark stand up from his position and move to retreat.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Mark roared, as he called upon all the strength he could manage and made two long jumps, intercepting the running enemy.
Ark looked back over his shoulder, his gray eyes full of fear and worry. Mark took one final stride, lunging forward and cutting down with his sword in a diagonal.
Throwing himself to the side, Ark narrowly avoided the sword. Before he could regain his footing, Rex’s whip hit him in the head. Losing his balance, he fell upon the ground.
“Wait!” Rex called, a strange note in her voice, “Something’s wrong!”
Mark did not care. The weaselly little bastard was within range. He stopped, standing above Ark, who dizzily turned and looked back up. Gone was the calculation and constant assessment from his eyes, replaced with a primal fear that exhilarated Mark.
Raising his sword, he decided to hammer it into the head of the idiot: a move that could potentially damage him beyond the simulated pain, even with the protections of the training room in place. This is what you deserve, Lowtown scum!
With all of his strength, he cut downward. Expecting to feel his training sword to hit and bounce off the protective field around his enemy, Mark overbalanced when his sword cleaved clean through instead.
Blinking, he found himself kneeling above Ark’s dissected form. There was no blood; no brain matter spilling out on the simulated rocks. Instead, a static shifting marred the edges that Mark had cut through the body.
The gray eyes that had been so full of fear; now parted by a gaping chasm that made them seem alien and inhuman, staring wide-eyed with that confident calculation centered squarely on Mark, judging him.
Shit, was all Mark managed to think. Behind, he heard Rex scramble to reach him, but he understood she would be too late. They’d been had.
In the distant shadows of the chasm, a light flashed. This time, he heard the gunshot. It rang through the echoing labyrinth with the force of a thunderclap, hammering into his skull like the bullet that struck true—right between his eyes.
Head tilted back from the sudden collision, Mark felt the training room beginning to lock down his senses as it simulated his death. The last he heard before the system completely paralyzed him was the sound of Rex’s breath as she caught him.
As the last vestiges of sensation fell away, Mark instead dreamed. Blue eyes, cold as ice, staring into his, while a hand held his throat. It was a dream he’d had for so many years it almost felt comfortable.
Only, this time, the vision changed. Slowly, his fears resolved themselves as the icy eyes shifted. Warping in color, the usual blue melted into gray, calculating. The hand at his throat changed into cold steel to his temple, a muzzle ready to unleash its blackpowder payload as the gray eyes measured him and found him wanting.
Mark wanted to scream, but found no mouth with which to scream. Wordlessly, his fear echoed in his mind, growing with each pulse of natural dread and confusion; a cresting wave of terror in the face of failure.