Frey shakes his head. “You were led to believe that. We all were.”
“How did you find out?”
“Troy. He had Max’s roommate from the Outer Limits staying with him during the break. Apparently Brink felt that bragging about his endowment would put him in high standings with Troy.”
“Endowment?” Rem asks.
Frey leans in and whispers to her. I don’t need to hear it to know what he’s telling her. This makes me wonder how many other people Brink has told about my parent’s promise to him. Was I the last one to find out? How could mentioning something like that possibly benefit Brink in any way? Maybe he’s hoping it’ll make him a Dracken leader or at least a top official. If I’m up against him in The Litarian Battles, he’s not coming out alive.
“It doesn’t matter,” Rem blurts out. “You’re all dead to me now.” She walks up to me, our faces close together. “If we’re in the same battle, don’t plan on surviving.”
She storms away just as Matron Kaniz steps off the lift with two Aedox. They look to be the replacements for the two currently stationed next to the lift, but they continue down the hallway towards the common room. Frey and I follow, squeezing ourselves into the crowd that is forming.
“Hammond will make the announcement shortly,” Matron Kaniz says once everyone is accounted for.
“What’s with the Aedox?” a girl in the front asks.
“They’re for your protection,” Matron Kaniz responds.
This makes the room fall silent. That isn’t the answer I was expecting. Why would we need protecting? And from whom?
The monitors all flicker on at the same time showing Hammond standing in the center of the selection floor. His suit today is somber, not as wild like the normal outfits he wears. He looks nervous and uncomfortable, but smiles through it.
“Hello children, I hope you all enjoyed your break.” He pauses for imagined applause or cheers. “The Keepers have been hard at work determining the next phase leading up to the event. As you can guess this was not easy, and with circumstances changing almost daily additional alterations are being made.” He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and strokes his mustache before continuing. “This phase of The Litarian Battles is being broken up into three rounds. Now, not everyone will be in the first round, as many of our higher ranking players will automatically start in round three.”
I catch Rem smiling in her little corner of the room. Frey squeezes me against him. He has the highest points in the unit, so he’s guaranteed to start in the third round.
“So, not to get ahead of ourselves, we will just discuss the first round,” Hammond says, adjusting his tie again. He looks to be sweating more than usual under the hot lights. “All contestants who had five hundred points or lower before the break will meet on the selection floor shortly. Of the one hundred and twenty-five players we have, the Keepers have determined that eleven of you meet this criteria. The wristbands of those selected will glow blue. You will be escorted by your Matrons to the selection floor. There, the rules of the first round will be explained. Good luck to you.”
The monitors turn off. I bury my wristband under my arm. I only had five hundred points left after my last battle, so I know it’s glowing. Everyone cranes their necks, looking around the room to see who it may be. I see two people close to the bar whose wristbands are blue. I pretend to not be paying attention, but I catch Matron Kaniz’s stern look in my direction. I linger back, hoping to disappear as everyone else disperses from the room.
“Max,” Matron Kaniz calls to me. “Let’s go.”
Frey won’t release me. I don’t think he realized I had so few points. I feel his heart rate skyrocket in his chest. I’m not sure if it’s because of anger, fear, or excitement. I turn, kiss him on the lips, and force his fingers free from my waist.
“Win,” he whispers.
I nod and make my way over to the others who are standing next to the Aedox. No one speaks as we take the lift down. We bypass the dressing area and are secured into our seats. Our chairs spin and we rise into the darkness before breaching the selection floor. Hammond is still standing in his spot, but the screens in the seats in front of us and around his head are off. No computer generated audience cheers in our ears. I quickly scan the room, looking for familiar faces, but only find one. Drake is cowering on the Rapid level of the auditorium. Of the eleven players there are three Loopers, four Nius, three Rapids, and one Dead Mark.
“Welcome contestants,” Hammond says, outstretching his arms as if to embrace us. “In order to reach the second round you must reach ten thousand points. For that to be accomplished, only one of you will come out of this round alive. There will be no pairing. You will all be battling at once. The battle floor has been modified to accommodate these new conditions. The winner will be reunited with their unit and advance. Alliances will not be tolerated. If you team up with someone from your unit, your kill rate will become higher and your shield deactivated. This sequence will not end until we have a winner. All units will be watching you in their common rooms, so do them proud.”
We descend, heading back into the darkness.
The Keepers are getting desperate, but why? Are they with the Dracken? If so, why place their own people into these battles? Why not advance us to the third round automatically?
I’m so involved in my own thoughts that an Aedox has to nudge me from my seat after I reach the bottom. We make our way to the holding area. Our outfits are waiting for us in the designated stalls. When we’re all dressed, we
