I switch off the screens, go into the kitchen to place my dishes in the sink, and get a drink of water. Walking into the front room, glass in hand, I pull one of the plush chairs closer to the windows, looking down at the stadium, its roof wide open. Workers are busy hanging colossal banners inside and out with the symbol of Tyre blazing across them. The sizeable monitors both inside and outside the stadium are also showing the symbol, but then cut away to my face showing my name and the time of the big demonstration tomorrow. My stomach begins to ache as the weight of what tomorrow means begins to sink in.
Gone are the days of running my course in the Wasteland, of sitting out in the desert just before dark watching the stars come out, of being no one.
Setting my glass down, I wander back to my room, crawl under the covers, and close my eyes.
I don’t get much sleep, my nightmare from the Dormitories consume me.
The screaming in my head wakes me so I decide to go and watch as preparations continue at the stadium. Cameras are outfitted into every aisle, seat, and corner of each section. They test each angle of the cameras on the monitors dangling both inside the stadium as well as outside, making sure not one moment of action will be missed. Regulators stand guard at all the exchanges, pedestrian crossings, and stadium entrances. I find myself growing tired, and shut my eyes.
I wake up again around six and eat a small breakfast that I prepare myself. A young woman with pale hair and skin rises in the elevator, handing me my outfit for the demonstration, which is a standard fighter’s uniform. She hesitates slightly in leaving, but the device on her wrist begins to beep loudly and rapidly, causing her to quickly run to the elevator and depart. I walk over to the windows and watch as lines begin to form outside the arena, winding over the bridges that cover the shuttle rails, down the concrete sidewalks, and around each building.
“You need to get ready,” I hear Vladim say behind me. I didn’t hear him come in.
I glare at him but swallow my pride, go to my room, don the outfit, and put my hair up before taking a hard look at myself in the mirror, not caring for the reflection. I put my fist through the glass, shattering it all around me, not bothering to pick up the pieces. The shards in my hand are forced violently from my flesh by my healing.
“Ready, Trea?” Vladim says to me as I rejoin him by the elevator.
“Yes,” I say, as we step onto the lift and descend.
The High Ruler’s shuttle is the only one currently in the garage. All other traffic has been diverted and no one is around except for his private security, who have a different uniform than the normal Regulators. As the shuttle pulls away from the Letchworth, Vladim hands me a red cloth bag. I reach inside and pull out a small black glove. I study the item and notice the covers for the fingers have been removed, and the center of the glove has a flat silver finish. The material looks metallic, but feels soft.
“What is it?” I ask, as I slip it onto my right hand.
“Our engineers have been up all night working on this. The silicone section in the middle of the glove will allow you to transmit the Quantum Stream to anything you touch. You no longer need a port to grip on to. The designers decided to go with silicone instead of metal due to the detectors that surround every building and entrance in Acheron, which will be our destination tomorrow.”
I try and recall the layout of the holding area and the Care Room picturing the lifts as they are housed. I close my eyes to better concentrate, only vaguely recalling a door at the far right of the Care Room marked Emergency Exit. I don’t know where it leads, but it seems the best chance I have.
We arrive under the stadium, but are directed to an alternate entrance, one only the High Ruler uses. The shuttle stops and I exit first, followed by Vladim. He leads me up his private elevator, to a special holding area, away from the rest of the fighters. He nods and returns to the lift, going up to his private box. Two attendants approach me, each holding various weapons. I attach a Levin gun to the right side of my belt and grip the Dimachaerus in my left hand. They step away as the announcer begins his speech about triumph over Acheron and Nuceira due to the fact that Tyre is the first to have located one of four Antaeans. The mystery of why they don’t know about Quintus remains.
“Yes, we have been anticipating this moment for the last sixteen years and now we get to finally see what our many sacrifices have been made for. Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s my honor to introduce you to Trea, Antaean Number Three.”
The floor below me begins to rise as the ceiling above parts. The lights have been turned off, leaving only one spotlight shining on me as I emerge onto the arena floor. The applause is deafening. I don’t wave, but stand poised for battle, which seems to excite the crowd, causing an uproar of triumphant, joyous shouts. I hop off the platform before it descends, the floor tiles moving back into position.
