"Where'd you go last night?"
Iggy stopped midchew to raise his brows at Tenn. Blue-tinted milk dripped from his lips as he swallowed the cereal in his mouth. No one saw him leave last night, not even the old man. No one saw him return either. Or so he thought.
"I didn't go anywhere."
"Don't bullshit me, Iggorii."
He cringed at the use of his full name. No one called him by that except for his mother—and when she did, it usually meant he'd done something wrong. Stuffing his face with another spoonful of sugary cereal, he pretended to not hear the Andradan.
"I know you can hear me," Tenn pressed.
Iggy groaned. "Fine." Rolling his eyes, he lowered his voice. "Well, you told me to 'gain the upper hand, so that's what I tried to do." The old man squinted speculatively at him. "I snuck out. Did some exploring. Not the greatest of ideas, but I did manage to find out something...something pretty big."
Tenn's eyes widened. "Go on..."
He looked around. No one else sat at their small table in the corner of the arena's cafeteria, but one could never tell whose ears were listening. At the moment, all the other tributes were too busy eating breakfast and the guards stationed near the door couldn't hear them if they whispered. It was best if he kept the little bit of inside information he knew under wraps until the games officially started. Vonn already wanted to kill him. He didn't need the other tributes or any guards getting on his case for being a cheater.
Peering at Tenn, he leaned over his bowl of cereal. "The first challenge...it's a race."
"A race? What kind of race?"
"Er, I don't know."
Tenn's lips puckered into a tight frown. "You don't know?"
"I overheard some guards talking about it last night. They didn't mention anything else outside of it being a race."
"That doesn't exactly give you an advantage, boy."
"Yeah, well, no one else knows it's a race."
"That could be true."
He rolled his eyes. "Look, I tried, okay? Cut me some slack." Tenn chuckled before taking a sip of water out of the metal tin near his hand. "Besides, I didn't have to tell you." He hadn't even told the old man everything that happened last night. The stranger's blue eyes and chiseled face stood out like Neon City's skyscrapers in his mind.
Who the heck was that?
A crude snort from Tenn scrubbed the question from his head.
"Like hell you didn't have to tell me. I'm likely the the reason you'll survive in here. You owed me that much."
Iggy lifted a brow at him, the corners of his mouth upturned in a slight smile. "So, you actually think I stand a chance at winning."
"I didn't say that."
"You kinda did, though, old man."
The Andradan snorted and looked away. A hint of smile hid beneath his bushy beard. "If you've learned anything from my teachings, then you've got a shot." He took a bite out of the burnt piece of bread on his tray. Munching loudly, he gestured at Iggy's physique. "It's only been a few days, but I see some improvement. You look less like a skeleton now and more like a little boy."
A sneer hijacked Iggy's grin. Still, improvement was improvement. One of the only upsides of leaving Novr included having access to multiple meals a day. With his wage from the mining company, he could never afford to eat more than once. The food on the Chyron and in the arena wasn't great, but it beat what he used to eat back home. Now instead of worrying about starvation, his main worry revolved around his survival in the Elysian Games.
Many thanks to the empire.
Iggy's scowl deepened.
The first game started in six hours. Six more hours until the race. Six more hours until he officially became one of the empire's gladiators. His hand tightened around his spoon, knuckles turning white from the sheer force. A million different scenarios played in his head; most consisted of him dying a gruesome death in that horrid arena while everyone watched. But there was one where he stood in the center of the stadium while everyone cheered. Moxi would hold his arm up, presenting him to the crowd as a champion. As a winner.
That's the one he wished for. That's the one he needed to happen.
He stared into his bowl of cereal. A warped version of his reflection looked back at him through the lavender-colored liquid.
"You're scared," Tenn said after a while.
"What gave it away?"
"You're lucky I put up with your sarcasm."
"I'm surprised you know what that is."
The old man threw his toast at the boy, who promptly dodged. It sailed past and skidded across the ground, prompting a servant to rush into the middle of the floor to pick it up. They threw Iggy and Tenn a dirty look before discarding the discarded piece of bread into a nearby trash can.
After breakfast and their morning showers, Iggy received another nugget of wisdom from his wise companion. They'd been hanging about the hall outside the training center; Vonn and his lackeys had been hogging the area since breakfast ended.
Iggy remembered the man had also been made a first-rounder, punishment for his attempt at murder on the ship. While he watched Vonn angrily lift weights while his followers watched on in concern, Tenn decided to pose a question.
"Do you know what makes a great warrior?"
"Muscles?" Iggy joked. He couldn't help but notice Vonn's physique beneath his arena-issued t-shirt. He'd taken it upon himself to rip the sleeves off, showing off his massive arms.
Iggy looked like a sickly twig compared to him.
Tenn rolled his eyes. "No, not muscles." He pressed a finger to his chest. "Courage. Instinct. Willpower."
"I should've expected that kind of answer."
"I'm serious, Iggorii. Yes, muscles are important, but they've never saved me during battle. But my mind has. My courage and instincts have." Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall behind him. "If you want a shot at winning tonight, you'll need to tap into all three of those things."
Iggy frowned. He didn't have much courage, and his instincts weren't any more refined than an infant predator. Willpowers, though... He might've had a bit of that. After all, he managed to survive a mine explosion, getting arrested, and an assassination attempt. But the more he reflected on those events, he realized luck was the driving force behind his survival. His own willpower had little to do with it.
Sighing, he stuck his hand into his pocket. The cool metal of the pendant calmed his frazzled nerves.
Despite his pessimism, Tenn had a point. While he didn't know how courage was supposed to help him win a race, he recognized the larger truth in the older man's advice.
He checked the time flashing on the digital clock built into the doorway at the end of the hall. Six hours until showtime.
That meant he had six hours to find some courage, hone his instincts, and harness his willpower.
You got this, Iggy. You got this.
#
Iggy started to think he didn't, in fact, have this.
Once the time came for the first-rounders to get ready for their debuts, Iggy and his fellow doomed tributes were separated from the others and led into a locker room. Another plastic pack of clothes was laid out for them.
Taking a seat on the hard bench in front of the row of metal lockers, he opened the container holding his new outfit. They gave him a pair of pants with built-in kneepads, a thick shirt with long sleeves, and a sleek, dark green helmet fitted with goggles. Strange attire for a foot race, but he wasn't exactly a fashion expert.
As the other tributes examined their new gear, Iggy realized they'd all been given a different color helmet. He went to crumple up the plastic bag, but something else remained inside. He gave it a hard shake. Picking them up, he examined the sturdy leather. Extra padding covered the fingertips and palms. They were just like the gloves he'd worn in the mines whenever operating the various pieces of mining equipment, whether it be drills, electrical parts, or—
His eyes widened.
Vehicles.
Ever since that guard mentioned a race, Iggy assumed it would be a literal foot race. While he wasn't sure how that corresponded to the "new and improved Gladiator Games" philosophy Moxi Daystar kept pushing, he hadn't thought twice about it. He'd been too worried about dying to question it further.
But the first challenge was never a foot race.
It was a vehicle race.
Iggy was a novice when it came to driving any kind of machine, but he knew a little something. His trainer back at the mines once told him "if you can drive a drill, you can drive anything". Hopefully, that wasn't just a miner catchphrase.
With this new revelation on his mind, he got dressed in his uniform. He checked himself out in a nearby mirror and almost laughed. The collar of his shirt nearly reached his shoulders, and he had to roll the sleeves up twice until he could see his hands. The pants didn't fit much better, but at least they stayed up without a belt. At least the gloves were snug. If he was going to be driving something, they'd be the most important aspect of his getup.
A Hand entered the room with two guards at their back. They instructed the tributes to head through the double doors on the other side of the locker room. Inhaling slowly, Iggy followed behind the others as they passed through the doors.
They entered a dark tunnel. Arrows on the concrete floor and walls lit up occasionally, creating a strobing effect in the rounded passageway. A blue forcefield stood at the end. Through the buzzing barrier, Iggy could see the beginnings of the arena. His heart tried crawling up his throat, but he swallowed it back down.
Now wasn't the time to lose his lunch—which he hadn't even eaten.
Wiping the sweat from his face, he readjusted the goggles built into his helmet.
With every step he took, the crowd outside grew louder. Their chants and cheers, coupled with fireworks from the opening ceremony, hit his ears. Lights flashed across the stadium floor, which looked a lot different from what Moxi showed them a few days earlier. Another change they'd made to the experience of the Elysian Games, presumably.
Iggy never was a fan of them before, but he had a firm grip on how they operated. Now he had no clue what to expect.
Well, that wasn't true. He did know something. Judging by the looks on the faces of his fellow first-rounders, they didn't know what he knew. They had no idea they'd be racing—nonetheless racing vehicles.
Off to the side, he noticed Vonn glaring energyknives at him. Gulping, he averted his gaze to the guard at his back. After they ordered him to face forward, he decided it'd be best for him to look at the floor. It wouldn't yell at or try to kill him like everyone else.
He hoped it wouldn't, at least.
At the front of the group, the android from before faced them with an offputting smile on its perfectly constructed face. Their glowing eyes stood out in the darkness of the tunnel. "The first round of this year's Elysian Games is a Skimmer race." Iggy's face lit up like the arrows on the ground. "Not only will you have to navigate a tricky, ever-changing course, but you will also be pitted against your fellow tributes in an effort to finish. The first five to complete the course will move on to the next challenge."
"And what about those of us who don't finish?" a tribute inquired.
All eyes were on the Hand before them. They smiled sweetly, but there was no joy in their eyes. No happiness on their perfect lips.
"Your time in the arena will be over." They didn't elaborate beyond that. Perhaps their coding encouraged them to be as vague as possible.
Palpable dread set over the group like a weighted blanket. Except this wasn't comforting in the slightest. Iggy felt like someone dropped a cinder block onto his sternum. Someone must've turned the gravity dial in the arena to ten because his feet were heavier than lead.
He repeated the Hand's words in his head. It was top five or nothing. If he didn't snag one of those spots, he could kiss the dream of escaping this arena and returning to Novr goodbye. His mother would be left alone with no one to look after her. Curling his hands into fists, he nodded to himself.
Top five or nothing.
The Hand pressed a button built into the wall. The forcefield flickered before disengaging. "You may now enter the arena. Good luck." They turned on their heel, the guards marching behind them as they approached the other end of the tunnel.
Wheezing with panic, a tribute took off after them. They didn't make it far. Guards sprung into action, their rifles raised and lasers aimed at the chest of the poor soul. They froze on the spot. Tears slid down their quivering face.
"The only way you're getting out of here is through there," one of the Elysians said. The guard pointed at the other end of the tunnel. The crowd's cheers grew louder. Iggy's stomach turned. Laughing, the guards left the tributes to their own devices in the tunnel.
With a shake of his head, Iggy prepared to enter the arena.