Thirteen squirmed against Fourteen's weight digging on his spine. One click of the trigger, and his brains would stain the grass. Not a pleasing sight. Or thought. He glanced at his wrist. Inside the rigid bandage wrapped around his healing arm, underneath the black layer of his jacket sleeve, pulsed Four's chip. It was the best shot he had in dealing with ambushes like this one.
He flexed his fingers just as Fourteen pressed the trigger. A wall of ice churned from the ground, drawing from the hydrogen particles in the air, the ground, even the trees. It was an amazing ability, provided even he had no idea how that worked in theory. Perhaps, all of those chips were embedded with the ability to bend reality and laws of nature. Probably.
The bullet chipped through the thick glacier. Fourteen leaped back, the tapered ends of the wall catching her arm. A groan rumbled low in Thirteen's lips as he braced the cold surface on his way up. "That's my gun," he said like a petulant child in need of holiday sweets. "Give it back."
Fourteen blinked before scowling at him. Five meters. A good distance, but still inside her maximum range. "Come and take it." She dangled the gun in her hands with a smirk tingeing her lips. She was quick to recover. "I dare you."
Thirteen glanced at Eight who settled on one of the RCC slabs by the fourth, fifth floor. Her dark eyes trained down on him, watching his every move. The gears in his head turned. How much time should he buy to switch out Four's chip with Karrel's? Would these two even allow him? If he breathed the wrong way, it'd be over. Carefully. He had to tread this road carefully.
He'd start by making them talk.
"What makes you think I'm a threat?" Thirteen asked, tucking his hands behind him and fumbling to undo his bandages. His thumb snagged the hem of his sleeve. It took everything in him to school his face into a passive stare even as his insides burned with tension. "With the both of you rushing here, it almost looks like you're that eager to see me."
The gun chinked when Fourteen raised it to Thirteen's face. "Enough of your nonsense," she growled. "We came here because you're the most dangerous one."
Thirteen clicked his tongue. "Even that, you got from me," he said. "What makes you think you're not simply manipulated into learning that lesson?"
Fourteen's eyes narrowed, her grip on the gun wavering. A little. Good. Keep her talking. "That's what you are, isn't it?" she said. "A scheming snake. We ought to chop your head off. That way, we wouldn't have to worry when you'll slit our throats in our sleep."
Oh, he could do that. But he wasn't here to kill people. He had to get out, survive. Live. Getting blood on his hands was the last thing he wanted. Now that he's had some of them, he should at least escape with his conscience intact. At least, what was left of it after everything.
"Did it ever occur to you it might be what Eight was thinking about you?" he ventured. It was a throwaway question, something that should never be taken seriously. But it would worm its way into people's heads, eat their brain from the inside, and take control of their limbs in the most gruesome but predictable way. "We are tasked to kill each other. There can only be one winner. What makes you think Eight has your best interests at heart?"
The finger on the trigger quivered. Thirteen tamped his smirk deep, deep down. Let them think he was simply pointing out the facts and not fraying their bonds on purpose. "What makes you think anyone here has your back?" he asked. His hands have unwound the bandage and exposed his healing arm. "We all have things to do outside of this place, people to win the Game for. Do you think Eight cares about what you have to lose?"
Thirteen leveled his gaze at Fourteen. He fished another chip from his pocket. His fingers felt the grooves. He had studied them enough to know this was Karrel's. The first stroke of luck in a long line of misfortunes. "Forget chivalry and camaraderie," he continued, babbling the time away. Even he couldn't comprehend the words he spouted if he tried. "Only one of us can get out, and if these people had to choose, do you think they'd choose you? Over themselves?"
He fished out Four's chip and slotted Karrel's in. The bloody, outgoing chip made it inside his pocket. The clean-up would take longer in the dark, but he'd take it. "Come on. No one is that noble." He made a show of shaking his head in disbelief. Then, he smiled at Fourteen as if her point was the most absurd thing he heard. "We're all mad here."
The wind howled. Eight's scream ripped through the expanse, geared towards him. Thirteen waited for the rush of warmth from his wrists. Karrel's chip always took a little longer to activate. He focused on Eight's body zipping across the sky. In a few seconds, she would slam into him. Maybe a punch of two in the gut. But not if he knocked her out first.
Karrel's ability allowed him to trace points of blue light rippling across a person's body. No wonder she knew about the chips. She could literally see them. With the abilities functioning as a miscellaneous system in the human body, they had their own paths, sort of like nerves or bones. They have their own cycles, their own rhythms. Thirteen glared at Eight, using his ability to squeeze some of those paths shut. Like a blocked artery, an ability would cease working properly should the cycle be disrupted.
He sidestepped in time for Eight to crash-land. She lost control of her winds, the stray breezes flitting between the flaps of his trousers and ruffling his curls. Before he could turn and run, Fourteen fired. One. Two. Seven bullets left. Tch. Smoke curled between his boots. His flesh remained untouched. Why?
Fourteen blew a breath, the gun in her hand shaking. "So it's true," she said. When Thirteen focused on her, her gaze turned uncertain. As if she couldn't decide where and who to shoot. Was her absolute aim malfunctioning as well? "You really are a thieving snake."
Eight groaned and propped herself on an arm. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Shoot him!"
"I can't!" Fourteen said. "My aim is off!"
Eight's eyes widened. "You—"
Thirteen reached Fourteen and plucked the gun from her hand. He flicked the safety on and moved to tuck it on his waistband. Fourteen's fist lashed into his periphery. It caught him by the jaw. He stumbled, crashing to the ground again. Eight's dark strands flew in the air as she rushed towards him and pinned him to the ground.
Both of the abilities were off, so Karrel's chip was useless. Another way to switch—
A foot slammed into his gut, sending him rolling across the grass. Air strained against his throat, his lungs fighting to catch up. He hacked, the rust in his lips intensifying into a greater degree. They were fast. Of course. Only the best survived the Game's first half, and he was the one at fault for that. If only he knew it would turn out like this, he would have schemed to eliminate all the stronger ones first.
The watchers got him on that one.
Someone grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up. Fourteen's shaggy hair rippled at the edge of his vision as she drove another fist into his face. He spat blood into the grass. It would be hell tomorrow. Certainly.
Before Fourteen's fist could send him to another dimension, he gripped Eight's wrist and swung her forward. The force she applied to his body sent her skidding faster. Fourteen's fist sailed over his head after a well-timed duck and slammed into Eight's nose. While his captor was occupied with the pain, he squirmed out of her grip and sent a kick down her back. Eight stumbled and crashed into Fourteen.
"What are you doing?!" Fourteen asked, gripping Eight's shoulders as they tried tumbling off each other on the grass. "I'm your ally!"
Eight grunted and shoved the other girl away. "You punched me!" she said. "Do you plan on betraying me after all?"
Fourteen's eyes widened. "What are you going on about?" she argued, dropping into a stance in case Eight lunged at her again. Her eyes flicked towards Thirteen for a moment. He ensured to give her a warm and innocent smile. "We're a team! I'll never hurt you."
It might have not worked its way into Fourteen, but it did its job on Eight. Now, his words picked at her mind, clawing at any shred of reason. People didn't want to be betrayed, and with nothing but a lame catalyst, that feeling would topple over and spill and stain everything it took to build trust and connection. So simple, and so, so terrifying, how Thirteen could do that without batting an eye.
Light glinted in Eight's eyes. Thirteen launched into action. He sealed the ability and sent an eddy boring down into them. Both yelped and grunted, writhing against the force which once belonged to one of them. He fished his gun and pointed it at them. Fourteen could easily kick the weapon out of his hands, but he wasn't going to give them that chance. Not again.
He switched the safety off, hooking a finger on the trigger. With Fourteen's ability, nothing stopped him from driving a bullet into their heads. If he could waste two more bullets...
The gun pointed to the sky as Thirteen raised his hands in a sign of surrender. "We are not a team, but remember this day," he said. "I could easily kill you, but I didn't."
He stepped back, daring the both of them to follow him. To attack him anew. "I don't care about what everyone fought for, but my principle never changed," he said. "I wish to save the maximum number of people from this Game, and I can't do that if we're all dead."
Were these hollow words at this point? He had no idea. While it was true he'd rather not kill anyone past the second part of the Game, these people could decapitate him in a blink—as evidenced by the fight this afternoon. But with overturning his own claims minutes before, by being someone who cared more about them more than his own ideals and goals, he had just built a dissonance in their subconscious. It would be easier to trust him. He wasn't like everyone.
At least, that was what he made them think.
It worked, with Eight and Fourteen straightening. Instead of summoning their abilities and battering him like a fly, they dusted their trousers free of clumps of dirt and streaks of dried grass blades.
"Don't expect me to thank you." Eight glared at him, smoothing her fingers down her tangled hair. "I won't return the favor either. The next time we meet, I will have your head."
Thirteen smiled. It didn't bother him. At least, that was what he told himself. "Looking forward," he said. "Don't come back here if you value your breath."
With a huff, Eight and Fourteen stalked off. Thirteen didn't dare walk back to his hideout until their backs were nothing but black blobs in the horizon. Worse, the sun climbed down its perch, plunging the world into a black void. Another sigh ripped out of his lips. It was another day of coding in the darkness.
That was, if his portable screen survived.