Nightfire Warriors - A Space Opera

4. Bad Reputation

A million questions race through my mind. Has Danny seriously been Inhuman his entire life and never told me? How come Frankie knew this about him and I didn't? I've known Danny longer! And Frankie is Inhuman too? Why were they living on Earth in the first place?

I sort out all of my emotions: confusion, hurt, betrayal, and shock seem to have hit me all at once. Whatever success I've accomplished during my Tryout is somehow flushed away along with my confidence. I'm stunned. There's no way I can concentrate now.

Don't worry about them, Sag, I must think to myself. Get them out of your head.

I stand in line for a few minutes while the cameras gobble up my images. Finally, we're allowed inside the arena. The last time I was here, over fifty-thousand people showed up. Now it's almost an empty field. It's strange not to see the seats filled with fans, or to hear cheering and screaming. The silence is almost surreal.

Palmer is the first one to step out onto the platform, and everybody cheers. Amanda follows behind him. Then Kendall, and of course Abigail, all take the stage. They have microphones so we one-hundred or so warriors can hear them clearly. The platform they're standing on is elevated enough for the short ones in the back to have a good view of them.

I notice Abigail is capturing in the moment, seeing all the warriors together for the first time. Maybe trying to guess who she's going to pick to be on her team. She appears to be mutely critiquing about us. Is it possible that she's stirring up more ideas? Maybe she's looking for more than one warrior to be a part of her team suddenly. I have to say, the potential surrounding me is endless.

Whoever wins the tournament will be the luckiest warrior in the universe. He—or she—will receive Legendary Honor, a cash prize, and of course, the most coveted prize: a permanent position on the Nightfire elite team.

"Hello everybody," Palmer says into his microphone, his voice booming. "Welcome to Bootcamp!"

Excitement fills the air again. I would be more excited if I hadn't seen Frankie or Danny. Where are they standing at anyway? I'm not so much listening but looking around trying to find them.

"So that means it's time to get down to business," Amanda says, and then she adds, "and to make some decisions. We are not just looking for a warrior to be on the Nightfire elite team. We are looking for a universe-wide star! This tournament is going to be a lot harder, and crazier, than any other tournament Abigail has produced before. Because instead of six winners, this tournament will only have one."

Every eight years, Abigail comes up with a brand new, elite team by hosting these tournaments, and then retires the previous elite team. But since Abigail is only looking for one warrior to replace, the rules are a little different this time around. For forty years, Nightfire has only had five elite teams, and only thirty-seven warriors in history have ever been known to be a part of it. I'm not exactly sure what the Nightfire contract says, but all I know is you have to be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three—in Earth years—to participate. Obviously, if you fail, you can't Tryout again because once the eight years are up, you will be too old.

There are many other ways to make it as a successful warrior in the universe. Some of the most popular warriors today aren't with Nightfire at all. However, because of Nightfire's reputation, and the public seems to be enjoying them the most, perhaps some warriors feel their careers are over if it ends here and now. Maybe they don't want to be a warrior. Maybe they just want to be a part of Nightfire.

"The bar is set extremely high this year," Kendall stresses. "You guys are the crème of your crop. The best of the best. Mistakes that fly in the past won't be tolerable now."

Each of the judges take turns adding on pieces of information about the tournament. Finally, Abigail has the final speech, and she explains to us thoughtfully. "In fifteen weeks, only one of you will be on my Nightfire team. Whoever is eliminated will depend on how hard you work, and how much you pay attention to your mentors. Here at Bootcamp, there are three essential stages. First, training: Then we'll eliminate the weak and be left with only 64. Second: one-on-one fights, and then 32 of you will meet your mentors. And lastly, which seems to be everybody's favorite: Judge's Houses. From there, you will be cut down to sixteen. And that's when the real tournament begins where we will eliminate you one by one until we have a true winner."

The odds of winning the tournament can't sound anymore ridiculous.

"My advice is," Abigail goes on, "don't ignore the fact you're competing to be on a team. Everybody wants to be the best fighter, but most success in this tournament happens with teamwork. You'd be surprised how far you'll go in this competition if you have an alliance to protect you." She clears her throat. "And finally, welcome. This is the colosseum where you will do most of your missions. And yes, there will be an audience every time. We have bunkers here, as well, where you will be sleeping for the remainder of Bootcamp."

We follow a production assistant to where we will be staying. She takes us to a room full of elevators. Wherever our new temporary home is, it must be built underground like a giant basement. I enter one of the small elevators with ten or so other warriors. Danny and Frankie aren't here with me, and I can't stop thinking about their whereabouts. They're probably talking about me right now. Demanding to know what I'm doing here at a Nightfire tournament. Most likely Frankie is cracking jokes about how I'll break my legs before we even start—or something.

The basement underneath the arena is dark. The hallways are like a maze with dead ends and circular paths. The cheap ceiling lights need their bulbs replaced, and the walls are covered in graffiti. So much graffiti. Every part of the wall has been vandalized with spray paint, and there isn't a single patch of the original white color. I almost escape in my mind for a moment because it looks incredibly artistic.

After getting lost, going in circles, I finally find myself in a vast room where 124 warriors take up only half the space. The acoustics in this room are terrible. The chatter everywhere echoes off the walls, and the sound becomes trapped in the room.

With only 32 bunkbeds installed, two for each person, I can only suspect this large group will be cut in half by tonight. Some warriors are confident enough they are going to survive the first cut that they are claiming beds already. There's fighting about who's going to sleep where. I'm not able to find a bed in time, so I can't exactly settle in.

Some seem to be getting along already and getting to know each other. There's no one I feel comfortable enough to talk to. I don't know any of these people yet, don't know what to say.

All of a sudden, the girl—the only girl out of all of us—breaks the ice. I look at her in surprise. She taps me on the shoulder. "Excuse me. Is that your friend?" She points inconspicuously.

I look to see who's she talking about. Danny is lying down on one of the bottom bunks, talking to Frankie who's hanging over the top. They're settled in, bags unzipped, and some personal belongings from home unpacked. Like best friends, they're just talking to each other, laughing. They don't notice the girl and I are spying on them.

"Yeah," I reply. "I know both of them."

"The one in the hoodie..." She's talking about Frankie. "He says you blew up a chandelier at a party. One of the shards slashed him across the face. Is that true?"

I cringe remembering that night. "Yeah," I reply again. "It is."

"Wow. You must be really good. Um...do you know if he has a girlfriend?"

I look at her suspiciously. "Who? Frankie? No, no, no, no. He actually cheated on his last boyfriend, so the relationship ended from there." Nothing feels better than starting a rumor about the one guy who I feel has always made my life miserable. I savor the victorious, triumphed feeling as the girl believes it.

"He's gay?" She's genuinely shocked.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Man..." She sounds disappointed. "Why do the hottest guys turn out to be gay?" She sighs. 

"Guess I'll see you later then." And she walks off.