No amount of training, exercise regimen or even military boot camp could have readied Codi for the latest challenge the Gauntlet had thrown her way. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm the nerves roaring through her body and clamped her hands tightly together behind her back.
Standing on her left, Max looked at her and managed a weak smile, but she could tell he was no more suited to their current situation than she was. When Vasco had told them what was coming she’d almost been sick.
A press conference.
She’d seen enough of them on tele-screens before, poor individuals being belaboured with questions, assaulted by flashing cameras and having every word they spoke come back and hit them like a boomerang. She wasn’t afraid of anyone in the tournament; not even Bruno Varlin could instil the abject horror she felt right now. Modestly, Codi considered herself the least diplomatic individual in existence, so getting hung out to dry in front of a swarm of journalists was a catastrophe waiting to happen.
She glanced at Max who stood beside her with his hands in his pockets and made another embarrassing realisation that the pair of them stood out from the crowd, owing to their lack of uniform. The remaining competitors had been split into four groups of eight before going into the jaws of the media, and Codi’s group had the unenviable task of going first. The six other competitors wore the respective team tracksuits, or hooded tops, or jackets, whatever it may be. All in all, it just added to the sense that she and Max didn’t belong.
She recognised a couple of the faces though. Brya Stone, the girl from Orion who had been in her Mayhem and the young Battlecast fighter who’d been with Varlin during their altercation in the lobby. She’d since learned his name was Chris O’Leary, and he was the fastest up-and-coming fighter, looking to take Varlin’s place once the veteran retired. Thankfully, there was one friendly face.
From across the group Kye smiled broadly at her, his impregnable shield of easy calm holding up even now. It was infuriating, but she still managed to give him a small mock salute. He made an imitation mouth with one hand and gave an impression of someone jabbering while he rolled his eyes. She stifled a laugh and looked away.
Taking a deep breath, Codi lowered her gaze to the floor and tried in vain to calm her nerves. Why? Why did this of all things fill her with such terror? After all, it was just words, wasn’t it?
But she had no idea what to expect. Vasco had given scant thought to the matter, putting all his focus into getting the fighters through the stages first. When the press conferences arrived he’d been just as unprepared. And there was a lot more going on than simply giving the audience a better look at the competitors. Codi discovered with some trepidation that she and Max were about to cross into the business side of the Gauntlet.
She now began to understand just why Brax-Delta had declined so badly over the years. There seemed to be a complex structure of sponsorships, subsidies and advertisement that went in tandem with the fighting itself. Brax-Delta, in failing to perform, had lost its clout in that particular area. Other minnow academies like Zulu Forge didn’t need to perform because they’d be subsidised by the larger local academies that used them as a testing ground for recruits. A fringe planet like Kantha had no such network of support. So the academy had underperformed consistently; the money had gradually been sucked out, and now Brax-Delta was, for all intents and purposes, liquidated. She and Max were all that remained of Kantha’s presence on the interstellar stage.
Now they were about to go out into the jaws of it all. The performance of the team had obviously turned some heads, but Codi had only barest bones of knowledge that covered the administrative side of things. If any questions regarding finance, sponsorship or frankly, the future, were put she didn’t have a clue what to say.
“Five minutes!” shouted one of the Gauntlet staff who was waving a clipboard. Codi took another steadying breath.
“Show time,” Max murmured and she could see his fingers drumming against his thighs out of the corner of her eye. She sighed ran both hands through her hair, looping the thick black locks back behind her ears. Then she began gnawing on the cuff of her hoody in anticipation. Damn this waiting! With every second that ticked past her stomach knotted tighter.
The five minute warning stretched out into what felt like an eternity, until finally the doors of the studio opened and the fighters filed into it. Codi found herself in the middle, right behind the bullish figure of Chris O’Leary. If he recognised her he wasn’t letting it show. He’d barely so much as glanced in her direction while they waited.
The light in the conference room dazzled her so much that she blinked several times before her eyes adjusted. Only O’Leary’s bulk up ahead kept her on track as she made her way around the semi-circular arc of the table. She ended up fifth to sit down, Max following her. Kye was first, far to the left of where she sat and she caught his gaze, just long enough to be reassured by his presence. Then a surge of panic swept through her when she turned her eyes on the swarm of reporters.
Men, women; young and old, there must have been at least a hundred journalists and reporters crammed into the room, and that was only in the central block of seating. Twice that number of spectators sat in groups to either side of the reporters. Cameras flickered and voices rose in a jabber of anticipation at the sight of the young fighters taking their seats. Codi stared at the table in front of her, clasped her hands together and rested her forehead against them. A microphone stared accusingly back at her. She didn’t care if she looked nervous. She was nervous.
After a few minutes the Gauntlet attendants managed to settle the hubbub down and it was only when the noise subsided that Codi looked up and spotted the cameras. She could see half a dozen of them at least, some of them locked in place, others panning visibly over the group. Blinking red lights next to the lenses made her feel like she was in the sight of some kind of tracking device.
The appearance of a man in a white and black pinstriped suit arrested her attention as he strode into the centre of the floor, wielding his microphone like a military baton. When he spoke his voice boomed from invisible speakers around the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you very much for coming,” he declared, then made a sweeping gesture to the fighters with one arm. “As you can see the first group of our finalists are set and ready to answer all those burning questions you’ve been dying to ask. Now, I know everyone’s got a lot to say, but let’s keep things orderly. Let’s begin!”
Hands shot up into a living forest of limbs, and the presenter watched with some amusement before eventually nodding and picking out one individual. The woman stood up and her first question held no restraint.
“My question is for Codi from Brax-Delta,” she declared. “In your first year of the Gauntlet you’ve done extremely well, but there are some critics that think both you and your team mate’s reaching of the knock-out round is down more to luck than judgement. What would you say to these people?”
Codi flattened the rising anger as quickly as she could. The question alone had her clenching her fists beneath the desk, but eventually she managed to formulate an honest answer.
“Everyone at Brax-Delta is still learning,” she said carefully. “And we can all get lucky sometimes. But I think we made our point in the group stage. We got through one-on-one on our own merits. No-one can say I had an easy group.” She paused for a second, and then added venomously. “I’d tell those people to check their facts.”
A murmur passed through the crowd and she saw some people exchanging knowing smiles and looks as though she’d performed to expectation. Glancing across she saw Kye clearly struggling not to laugh.
“Max,” the woman continued. “Would you agree with your team mate’s sentiments?”
“I…” he hesitated, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “More or less.” That was all he had. Codi raised an eyebrow and the journalist gave an affronted snort and sat back down. Hands shot up again until the presenter picked another reporter. This time it was a fat, middle-aged man with immense spectacles perched on his bulbous nose.
“For Chris O’Leary of Battlecast,” he wheezed. “You’ve made one of the most impressive starts to your Gauntlet career that the tournament has seen, and many are calling you the next Bruno Varlin. Is that a fair assessment?”
Only now did Codi take a proper look at the hulking teen as he prepared to answer. Frankly, at a glance, he looked more dangerous than Varlin, built like a human battering ram. But his gaze lacked the same cold intensity. It was the look of someone who hadn’t quite grasped his situation.
“I don’t know about that,” O’Leary chuckled good-naturedly. “I put in a lot of hard work before the academy approached me. Bruno’s been a great mentor and helped me get as far as I have, but I don’t think I’ll ever match him.”
“Many are predicting a possible final between the pair of you.”
O’Leary shrugged. “If that happens, I’ll do my best, but at the end of the day, I’ve got another two years to compete here.”
Questions bounced around the other academy representatives, some commenting on their performance or the lack thereof in their team mates. The prospect of fighting within the team now loomed over many in the powerful academies and was a subject gleefully pounced on by the journalists as a source of drama. However, through all this, Codi couldn’t help noticing that not a single person acknowledged Kye’s presence on the panel. He just sat there, apparently happy to ignore and be ignored by everyone in the room. It seemed that his academy was so overshadowed by Battlecast and the other Earth academies that no-one even cared.
That realisation filled her with both anger and guilt in equal measure. Why were she and Max getting so much attention? Kye was in the same uphill climb as they were, arguably more so owing to his virtual abandonment. But no, to the swarm of spectators he was invisible.
“Codi James, if we might return to you,” the presenter boomed, yanking her attention back. “Clearly you’ve turned some heads in the Gauntlet this year. Out of nowhere an academy that most people had written off as nothing more than making up numbers has managed to get two fighters in the final stage. Many see you as embodying a true underdog story, but no-one knows anything about you.”
Codi could feel the irate stares of the other fighters as the man continued, their annoyance obviously brought forth by her hogging the attention. She was the first person the presenter himself had addressed.
“So I’ve got a couple of questions for you. Everyone’s itching to know a little bit more about one of our most pleasant surprises. How did you become involved with Brax-Delta academy?”
She considered this for a moment. “I got myself expelled from school by breaking a kid’s nose.” It had the desired effect. The silence hung like an anvil over the room until the presenter recovered himself.
“Well, well, so a bit of a colourful entry then?”
“You could call it that.”
“So how did expulsion lead to competing all the way out here?”
“I had a bit of help.” She shrugged. “One of my teachers knows our instructor. He sent me to Brax-Delta, and here I am.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Well, I’ll wager your folks back home must be very proud of how you’ve conducted yourself in your first competitive year.”
The statement hit her like a knife in heart. Her jaw tightened and her eyes flickered to the right where Max sat and she saw him looking back, eyes wide as he bit his lip. He was the only person in the room that knew she didn’t have ‘folks.’ A glance the other way found Kye and several others looking at her in confusion.
Taking a breath, she steeled herself. “I don’t have a family back home,” she said in a measured voice. “I lived in an orphanage before the academy.” She knew the reporters wanted all the gory details, but she’d given as much as she felt they had the right to know. The presenter seemed to clock this fact and continued on.
“Out on your own, eh?” he crooned. “Inspiring stuff young lady.”
“Look, I’m not alone,” she snapped suddenly. “I’ve got my coach and my team. They all stayed, even the ones that got knocked out. I didn’t get this far by myself, so stop making it about me.” She looked pointedly at Kye. “What makes us so special at Brax-Delta? There’s someone in this room who’s grappling with a lot more than either of us have to contend with. He’s been hung out to dry by and abandoned by his academy and his team, but no-one seems to give a damn about that.”
With that she leaned back from the microphone, folded her arms and glared at the presenter. He blinked in surprise before hurriedly changing the subject. He started quizzing the girl from Orion about potential opponents in the coming rounds and any she would prefer to face, and as he did, Codi looked over at Kye again. To her surprise he found him staring back with loathing in his eyes. He shook his head and looked away.
The interviews dragged on, but the presenter kept clear of her for the rest of the proceedings. He levelled a question at Max about sponsorships and the future of Brax-Delta as an academy, but her unassertive companion had merely bumbled out a few lines about how business wasn’t his decision and that he would just do the best he could. She barely listened, trying to process Kye’s reaction to her little speech. What had she said? What had earned that black look that made her feel like she’d stabbed him in the back? Before she could come up with an answer, however, one more reporter threw the attention back onto her.
“Codi, you’ve shown some impressive and unorthodox styles so far,” the reporter in question said. He was a young spindly individual who had yet to contribute to proceedings. “How would you rate yourself against some of the favourites in the competition?”
“Meaning what?”
“Your final group fight ended in a decisive victory for Bruno Varlin. As returning champion, many people are already claiming he has won the tournament. Do you think that’s a fair assessment or is there the possibility of an upset in the future?”
Codi thought back to the fight with Varlin. Going by personal experience the reporter’s claim seemed reasonable enough. But she didn’t like the notion of admitting Varlin couldn’t be beaten. Not only did she not like it, she didn’t believe it.
“Anything could happen,” she said finally. “Everyone’s afraid of him because everyone expects him to win. People with that mentality will never be able to beat him.”
The man nodded. “And do you find yourself expecting Varlin to win?”
“If I did what would be the point of being here?” She flung the question back like an axe. Gesturing to the room with a sweep of one arm, she continued, “At the end of the day all this…this time wasting garbage back stage, it goes out the window when you step into the arena. When I’m fighting I don’t see expectations, and I’m not afraid of anyone. Anyone who goes out there and doesn’t fight to win, well I’d say they’re in the wrong place.”
A thin smile crossed the reporters features and he sat down, tapping away quickly on his portable computer. A few more minutes trickled past as the presenter rounded up proceedings and at last the fighters were allowed to escape out of the conference room.
Codi only had one thought in mind as she barged past the others on her way out. She spotted Kye walking at a furious pace as he disappeared around the nearest corner, and she broke into a run to catch him. When she finally caught up to him he didn’t slow down.
“Kye,” she said, but he didn’t respond. She caught him by the arm. “Kye!”
“What?!” he snarled so aggressively that she recoiled away, her words quashed by this uncharacteristic fury.
“I…what is it? What did I do?”
“What. Did. You. Do?” he repeated slowly, his voice thick with contempt. “Codi, I know you think you did me a favour in there, but you did the opposite.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have made such a bonehead play.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I don’t want people to be paying attention to me. It’s alright for you, being the great underdog from Brax-Delta, but what you just did is turn me into a target for every other Earth academy fighter. They want the spotlight and they’re welcome to it, the idiots. Now you’ve made me part of it. You’ve dragged me into a pissing match with every lunatic in the tournament.”
“They were…acting like you didn’t exist,” Codi said, her voice small. “It didn’t seem right.” She swallowed hard and for the first time found herself desperately wanting to salvage this friendship. Biting back any sort of stinging retort, she took a different tack. “I’m sorry, I had no idea…”
“Well I figured that out.” He turned his eyes skywards, an exasperated smile slipping across his face. “Being the nobody in the Gauntlet was my whole plan. People ignore me, don’t consider me a threat. I’m just some kid who’s scraped through by the skin of his teeth and that’s how I needed it to be. Now you come barging on in and stick me out under a ruddy spotlight-,”
“Kye, stop!” She fought to keep frustration out of her voice. “Please, I couldn’t have known. When we came here…none of us even thought about the interviews. I didn’t even know there were interviews before today. And I screwed it up, okay? I’m good at fighting. I don’t have people skills. Please, I don’t want...” The words came into her head, but she almost couldn’t force them out. With a second effort she finished what she started. “I don’t want to lose you.”
His expression softened. Anger gave way to confusion. “Lose me?”
“Yeah.” Codi stuck her hands into the pockets of her hoody, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “Maybe I’ve got this all wrong, but I thought we were friends. I haven’t had a lot of friends, so it’s important to me, alright? And I’m sorry about what I said. If I’d known, if I had any idea how to play the interview game maybe I wouldn’t have said it. But I don’t, and I did.”
Kye stared at her for just long enough to make the silence uncomfortable. When he spoke, however, his voice was calm. “Friends, eh?”
She nodded.
“Yeah I thought so too.” He blew out his cheeks with a sigh. “Tell you what, maybe I’ll feel better about all this after a few rounds of sparring. Gotta warn you though, I’m not going to be holding back.”
Then he gave her a mischievous grin.