No Dogs Allowed

Way of the Rebels

"Fuck you," I snapped. "I'm not your dog."

"I. Own. You," she growled. "Your existence is contingent on my words. Your limbs are only intact because I say so. You only breathe because I have allowed you to. Hello? Hello! Houston, do we have a problem in there?" She pushed harder. I gagged. "You are not my dog, you are less than. I'm more than just your leash." Mercy pushed so far I feared she'd break my ribcage altogether. "I am your only lifeline, Ghost." She leaned down. "And that, is a promise."

It had taken another gruesome year of being her pawn for the privilege of attending Avaldi at all. She had only granted me access to it for me to study biochemistry, "good for the work" and all. 

"College for Ghostie, what a treat!" she announced. "Aren't you excited?"

"I'm going to help you," I snapped. "So, no."

"Well," she hummed. "At least you're honest. Isn't that something?"

I. Own. You.

Mercy was correct on one thing: I owned nothing. Not even myself.

She was wrong about her being my only lifeline, though.

I'd treaded water for a while.

But for the first time in six years, I had land to swim towards.

___________________

The University of Nevada, Las Vegas Rebels were twentieth in Division I square racing, not for their lack of skills, but for their absolutely vicious lack of sportsmanship, which held them in twentieth place for wins, yet first for number of flags on their record. They were credited for commendable offense, decent defense, and a whopping eighteen team members total, enough to replace each member on a track three times over.

"Everyone got that?" Coach said, setting her clipboard down to scan us all with a pointed look. "Good. Now, the actual team. Listen up, I'm really not repeating this part."

The main six representatives of the team were Ford, Manson, Jameson, Lee, Singh, and Baluyot, front port, front starboard, centerback, starboard tail, port tail, and center tail, respectively. Baluyot was their captain, a six foot four Class I Huang Alpha that likely ate smaller Betas for breakfast and Omegas as an afternoon snack. Bad left foot from an injury. Slow reflexes.

"Center tails are most protected," Coach said. "So he's usually their killing blow when they need it. So preserve your wits for as long as you can, and for your limbs' sake, don't let him get too close."

Everyone else were threats in their own respects. Ford was lightning fast on anything and with everything. Manson had modded his bike so much it could practically play the banjo and crush your teeth with the same button. Jameson was an instigator at heart, and a damn clever one at that. Singh was a robot for all their dirty bidding.

Coach said, "Keep your eyes peeled. This team might be below you, but they're above a hell of a lot of other people. Don't get cocky. That means you, Cruz. And you two." She pointed her pen at Wynter and Zoe. "This is your first game with us. So listen to what we tell you and do not panic at any moment, these players won't hesitate to be cruel. And please do not deviate from the game plan."

"We're done for," Zoe said. "We're actually done for."

"I'm gonna kill Nia," Wynter muttered. "Who told me I was allowed to chase my dreams?"

Meredith turned bright eyes to Coach. "We'll do our best."

"Do better," Kane said from his place on the locker room bench. His helmet hung in his hand, KING scrawled on the side like a white-knuckled crown. "What's the game plan?"