The raucous noise in Neon City's magnificent arena made Iggy's ears pop. Music blared over the sound of the crowd. Their chants echoed all throughout Elysium's Sector Eleven. The further away from the tunnel he got, the drier his mouth got. Within moments, he began to wonder if he'd unwittingly gargled a cup of sand.
Fear and wonder seized his slight frame as he soaked in the buzzing atmosphere. There had to have been at least a hundred thousand citizens of the empire sitting in the stands wrapping around the arena's playing field.
He'd be racing for his life within the next few minutes. There wasn't anything he wouldn't give to trade places with someone in the crowd. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head, dispelling the thought.
He was the one in the pit. Not them. Dwelling on fantasies would only get him killed.
Dying wasn't an option.
Swallowing hard, he examined his surroundings once more. The moat that had been keeping them separated from the arena's inner edge was replaced by the extended floor jutting out from the main stage. Instead, a high forcefield ran along the entire length of the circle, barring anyone from attempting to make an escape into the stands. Up ahead, Iggy could barely see the other end of the arena.
"Citizens of the empire!" Moxi Daystar's grating voice blared throughout the arena. His words charged the crowd like an electric current. The energy ignited the air, much like how the fireworks overhead painted the black sky with vibrant colors. "Welcome to the new and improved Elysian Games! We've heard all your criticism and suggestions. We've studied our successes and our failures. What our brilliant gamemakers have devised will blow your socks off, people!"
The crowd's cheers amplified. Iggy's bones rattled and his skin crawled as he stood at the mouth of the tunnel. It spiraled closed with a damning zip behind him. The other tributes stood around with confusion on their faces. Even Vonn took a break from glaring at Iggy to squint inquisitively at his surroundings.
Iggy peeked above them. A skybox floated hundreds of feet above the arena's center. Anti-gravity technology glowed bright cobalt beneath the metal floor. He couldn't see inside, but he knew Moxi was up there. Massive screens made up each side of the cube. Each one played a different angle of the action within the arena. One screen showcased one of the three elevated viewing boxes looking down on the arena. Those inside lounged about on luxurious furniture, dressed in clothes that were likely worth more than he could comprehend.
Sneering, he shifted his gaze back to the racetrack.
For tonight's game, the arena had been transformed into a landscape of metal and light. Vaulted levels, curved tracks, tunnels, and even gaps in the ground formed the course. Glowing arrows—identical to those in the passageway they took to enter the arena—lit up the track, indicating the path to be taken by the stupefied contestants. Iggy followed it until he found the end.
He looked to his left.
A part of the ground split open before a platform housing dozens of skimmers rose through the gap. They all were in pristine condition, unlike the ones that populated the dusty streets of Novr, and sported paint jobs corresponding with the colored helmet of its intended rider. Iggy found his all the way at the end.
No surprise there.
"Racers!" Moxi's disembodied voice called out. "Take to your glorious steads!"
Iggy gulped and approached his designated skimmer.
The gamemakers were kind enough to bless them with the most recent skimmer model; his favorite version was from a few generations ago, but this new and improved version was nothing to scoff at.
Sleek, metal plating hid the engine in the front, creating a shape that reminded Iggy of a shark's head. The back flared out into four fins before tapering into the curved seat. Iggy mounted the Skimmer and placed his hands where he knew the handles to be. Except, his fingers didn't coil around the grips. His palms met a flat surface. Furrowing his brow, he scanned over the skimmer's front console in search of a steering mechanism.
Iggy wasn't a racer. The only driving he'd ever done occurred behind the wheel of a portable drill back in the mines; the thing couldn't move faster than a few miles per hour. But he knew a lot about skimmers. In the event he acquired enough credits to purchase one, he collected magazines and manuals detailing their features and controls back in his apartment. He'd never touched one before, though.
Not until now.
The dashboard rendered to life, the holographic menu and console dousing his face in blue light. Everything read in Galactic Standard, much to his relief. Had the words been any other language—besides Arigorii—he would've been screwed. He quickly navigated through the menu, giving himself a quick rundown of the vehicle's basic operations.
Eventually, he found a setting that disengaged the handles for him. Two puffs of air exploded from the pair of holes on either side of the Skimmer's front head. The handles revealed themselves and Iggy blinked.
The older models definitely don't do that.
Around him, the other tributes topped their skimmers. They formed a perfect line across the platform beneath them. On the other side of the row, Vonn leaned forward, his black-painted helmet catching the light from the fireworks above. He grinned and pointed at the wide-eyed Arigorii.
"You're going to die!" Vonn bellowed over the noise.
Gritting his teeth, Iggy tightened his fingers around the handles and faced forward.
"Racers!" Moxi shouted from his skyward booth. "Get ready for the ride of your lives!"
None of the first-rounders seemed particularly jazzed. Most looked caught between screaming, vomiting, or passing out altogether. Iggy didn't blame them. None of them wanted to be here. None of them should've been there. Himself included.
But he had a mission. And it started with winning this race—or at least finishing in the top five.
Top five or nothing.
Tuning out the blaring noise in his ears, he focused on his breathing. It started out choppy, but gradually became focused. His heart rate slowed. His head quieted. A sense of peace washed over him like the morning sun.
If he survived, he had Tenn to thank for that technique.
The old man's previous bits of advice played in his head like an audiobook. Part of him wished the Andradan was there with him. Yet, he was grateful the old man hadn't been placed in this round. Tenn didn't seem like he knew the first thing about a Skimmer. Besides, this wasn't a team game. It was a race. Tenn couldn't drag him across the finish line.
Only he could.
"Neon City, are you ready?!" Moxi asked the crowd. They cheered wildly in reply. "Let the games begin!"
Iggy's eyes snapped open. His skimmer rumbled to life.
A holographic countdown sequence materialized in front of them. It counted down from ten, every pause feeling like an eternity. Iggy's body trembled as the numbers whittled down. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. His goggles fogged up a bit, and he quickly tried his best to clear his cloudy vision with the bottom of his shirt sleeve.
The countdown approached its end.
He readjusted his grip on the skimmer's handles. For a split second, everything vanished except for him and that countdown. The racetrack disappeared, the noise in the stadium going with it. He didn't see Vonn, the other tributes, or the crowd.
It was just him and the countdown.
The countdown hit one.
Everything else jumped back into view. The audience's cheers were louder than before. The lights around him flared, rivaling the stars dotting the night sky. Moxi shouted into his microphone. Leaning forward, Iggy twisted his handles, revving the skimmer's powerful engine. The crowd roared.
The countdown hit zero and Iggy sped off behind the other skimmers.
#
Iggy thought driving the skimmer would've been the easy part. He'd read about them more times than he could count. For what it was worth, he'd even driven a drill a few times. Manning one of those things was impossible. How much harder could a skimmer be?
Much harder, it turned out.
Iggy fell to the back of the group of racers early. Their skimmers zoomed by as they took on the daunting track. It took every ounce of his concentration just to keep them all in his sights.
The skimmer sputtered over the ground, hovering inches above the pavement as he tried to get a handle on the engine's power. Revving the handles too hard caused him to lose control. Too soft made him inch forward like a glowsnail.
Looking up, he watched the other racers enter the track's first phase—an array of crisscrossing lanes that went up and down in dizzying fashion.
He needed to catch up. Fast.
Muttering to himself, he coaxed his ride forward. The crowd around cheered as an explosion sounded. Up ahead, he spotted a skimmer on fire with its rider still onboard. They crashed into a barrier. Other racers whizzed by, all vying for those first five places.
Like the driver who crashed, Iggy was as good as dead.
His fingers tightened around his handles. C'mon, Iggy, c'mon.
"Looks like tribute Green is struggling there at the back!" Moxi announced. "What a pity!"
Gritting his teeth, he slammed his hand onto the skimmer. Why couldn't he figure this out? He glared down at the ground as angry tears clouded his vision. He was so far behind that trying to catch up almost seemed like a waste of time. His eyes settled upon the glowing arrows in the middle of the track. The lights alternated in a one-two-three sequence.
An idea popped into his head.
Tightening his hands around his handles, he pushed the skimmer forward over the arrows. An invisible force catapulted him forward. His surroundings blurred into streaks of light as he screamed. The other tributes got closer as he sped up. Hope and a tiny bit of terror bubbled in his chest.
Just like in the video games he played as a kid, the arrows were speed boosts.
They were all over the track. If he played this right, he still had a chance. A slim one, but a chance, nonetheless. And that's all he needed
Yanking his handles to the right, he narrowly avoided flying off the edge of the borderless track. He steadied himself and gunned it, leaving a pink skimmer in his wake. Then a yellow one. Then a dark blue. There were thirty riders in total, including him. He might not have been last anymore, but he still had a way to go until he secured one of those top five spots.
He pushed his Skimmer faster. The engine hummed in response, cutting through the track like scissors through paper. Most went down the main path—a wide, straightforward section of the track. A few others went around the sides, curving with the slanted surface and taking advantage of the speed boosts.
Iggy copied them. He ate up the boosts and found himself in the middle of the pack.
"Look at them go, folks!" Moxi shouted from his skybox. "Oh, there goes tributes Orange and White! That's a nasty wipeout!"
Another explosion. Two racers down this time. Their screams hit Iggy's ears as he sped past. Clenching his jaw, he kept his eyes on the track. Their race was over. His had just begun.
A gap approached. Behind him, the other skimmers slowed up, likely afraid of the distance. He started to do the same until Vonn and his black ride burst forward. His Skimmer cleared the gap with ease before continuing its journey.
Iggy nodded to himself. He sped up and approached the gap. His eyes widened once he reached the edge. "Oh, sh—" His vehicle jumped the clearing. He went weightless for a moment as he cut through the air.
Gravity yanked him back onto the other side of the track. Sparks flew as the front of his vehicle skidded across the ground before the anti-gravity mechanic tilted him upward again.
Adrenaline pumped in his veins. He grinned.
Awesome.
There were only seven drivers ahead of him now. Just two people to overtake and he'd advance to the next round. But the racetrack hadn't gotten any easier. Things were starting to ramp up now.
By the skin of his teeth, he managed to stay alive through most of it. He skirted past electrified barriers, more horrifying crashes, and even a collapsing track that took out a few tributes behind him. Sweat dripped down his face and down his neck. He eventually entered the final stage of the race in sixth place.
The end, in all its glory, rose above everything like a monolith. Lights blinked around the arch holding the finish line.
Just one more person to pass.
It was Vonn.
Readjusting his grip on his handles, he pushed onward. Within seconds, he arrived next to the man's skimmer.
Vonn turned his head before laughing. The noise brought a scowl to Iggy's lips. "Look who's still alive!"
Iggy said nothing and tried to edge forward. Vonn stayed with him the entire time.
His archnemesis swerved into his vehicle. "I told you you'd get what's coming to you!"
Sparks flew where their skimmers met. Green paint burned away to reveal dull metal. Yelping, Iggy held onto his handles for dear life. Vonn hit him again, nearly causing him to spin out. All the strength in his arms and core was required to keep his skimmer steady. With his biceps burning, he steered away from the enraged man.
Iggy threw him an incredulous look. "Seriously?!"
Vonn bellowed like a caveman. Iggy narrowed his eyes at him through his goggles.
Fine. You wanna play like that? Let's play.
He matched speeds with Vonn before jerking his handles to the left. They collided again. More sparks flew as neither let up. They glared at each other before breaking apart. Iggy drifted right, just avoiding a barrier cutting between them. From the other side, he watched Vonn eyeing him.
He stole a glance forward, his heart thumping in his chest like a subwoofer. The crowd went ballistic as the two of them engaged in battle atop their skimmers. Even Moxi took notice, opting to solely commentate on their actions rather than other remaining racers.
Iggy let his skimmer hang right even more. Once their split paths rejoined, Vonn jumped onto his side.
"You can't run from me!" Vonn shouted. "The old man can't save your scrawny ass this time!"
Iggy wasn't running. But with the limited number of brain cells Vonn likely possessed, he didn't expect the man to realize he was being baited. Exhaling, Iggy stopped drifting. Vonn's eyes lit up. He went in for the kill.
Iggy pulled up hard on his handles, engaging the Skimmer's brakes. He came to an immediate stop, the nose of his vehicle lifting for a moment as momentum drove him upward. Vonn sailed past him, his skimmer spinning uncontrollably. He screamed as he approached one of the electrified barriers.
Another explosion sounded.
Vonn's skimmer burst into flames. He jumped from the vehicle with burn marks on his racing suit. Red-hot fire, fueled by the clear liquid leaking from his skimmer, jumped onto his shirt. Screaming, he tried batting the flames away. They quickly swallowed him whole.
"Oh, that's gotta hurt!" Moxi yelled.
Iggy squeezed his eyes shut. Then he continued forward.
Top five or nothing.
As he left Vonn in his wake, the man's agonized screams echoed in his head, repeating like the broken record of a song he hated. He did his best to push the noise away, instead focusing on the crowd roaring in the background.
The end of the race loomed in the distance.
No other racers were near him on either side. Most either perished a long time ago or were too far ahead for him to catch up. He didn't care either way. The fifth spot had been secured.
He passed through the finish line with little resistance. Overhead, his face had been blown up across the five screens. His Skimmer continued around the track, doing a victory lap for the fans in the stadium. Iggy released his handles and removed his helmet, finally able to breathe again. Wet strands of hair fell into his damp and tired face. Panting, he looked to the stands.
People were chanting his name. Well, not his real name. They were all shouting "Green". No one knew his name. Not yet. But they would soon.
"What an amazing comeback by Igor...Iggorii? Am I reading that right?" Moxi laughed. "Who cares?! That was an amazing end to the race, don't you agree, folks!" The audience agreed.
Fanfare blared through speakers as he continued his victory lap. But when he spotted floating stretchers dropping from the sky to retrieve the fallen tributes, he didn't feel like much of a winner. Vonn's screams rang in his ears. Sure, the man tried to murder him on multiple occasions, but never did Iggy want to do the same. Especially not like that.
The smell of burning flesh and metal continued to linger in the air.
His skimmer took him into the tunnel. It closed behind him, sealing off the noise from outside as if controlled by a television remote. He stepped off his vehicle. Hanging his head, he followed the surviving four tributes down the hall and back to the locker room.
He survived too.
But at what cost?
#
Iggy found himself staring at his hands in back of the locker room well after the race finished. The other tributes already finished changing back into their standard uniforms while he remained sat on a bench, frozen.
Vonn's screams echoed in his head.
Flickers of the race strobed in his mind like the harsh, violent searchlight from an Elysian soldier's rifle. Groaning, he buried his hands in his face. This was stupid. Vonn hated him. Vonn tried to kill him. With him eliminated, he no longer had to watch his back. That meant one less obstacle standing between him and making it out of the arena.
So why was this bothering him?
At that moment, he decided it didn't. He couldn't let it bother him. There wouldn't be any time to dwell on today's victory. Once the second and third rounders completed their first challenge, it would be time for Iggy to enter the arena once more. His stomach churned at the thought of doing that all again.
"Iggorii! Iggorii!"
His gaze snapped to the band of reporters attempting to rush into the room. They all had matching, semi-holographic badges clipped to their clothes. After checking them for weapons, the Elysian guards stepped aside to allow them in. Among them, Iggy recognized Ivy Brightway—the reporter from a few days ago who interviewed himself and Tenn. She donned a long, grey coat that matched her glasses. Her little robot waddled behind her, snapping pictures of the Arigorii the entire time.
"What do you want?" he grumbled.
"You just won your first challenge," Ivy said. "In spectacular fashion, might I add. The audience, especially the Au Grattus family, love a good story." She grinned at him. "I'd like the privilege of telling yours."
He arched an eyebrow at her. "What?"
"The games are only going to get harder from here," Ivy explained. "The only way you'll survive is either by winning them all or becoming a character the crowd wants to root for. They like tributes they can connect with. Characters who they can pity. Characters who represent something. With popularity comes assistance—assistance from people who can help you stay alive."
He thought back to previous Elysian Games contestants. While he rarely tuned in, he heard stories about fighters that spread across the galaxy. They always seemed to last longer than the others.
"I need to become a fan favorite," he said flatly.
She nodded.
Winning the rest of the games without help would be impossible. He'd barely survived tonight, and that was a rare moment of unplanned brilliance from him. He couldn't count on that every time.
He tilted his head at her. "Why are you trying to help me?"
She paused. "You want the truth?"
"No, I want you to lie to me."
Chuckling, she wagged a finger at him. "See, that's the kind of personality that could make you a hit with the audience." He blinked at her. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure why I'm helping you. There's just...something about you, Iggorii—"
"Iggy. It's Iggy."
"Right. Iggy. Anyways, I see potential in you. With my help, I can help you craft a story worthy of garnering you empire-wide support. Or at least the support of a Noblus willing to sponsor you in the games."
"What's in it for you?"
The only altruistic person he'd ever known was his mother. And maybe Tenn; the jury was still out on him. No one in the empire did things out of the kindness of their heart. Not for him, anyway.
Ivy pushed her glasses further up her nose. "The pleasure of crafting an amazing narrative that people will remember for years is enough for me."
He kept quiet.
Could he really trust this lady? Tenn didn't seem to think so.
But Tenn wasn't here right now.
He studied the blonde reporter's face for a moment. She retrieved a card from her pocket and handed it to him. Her name in plain script had been printed on the front. On the back was a sequence of numbers—a contact address.
"Get in touch if you decide to take me up on my offer, okay?'
"Yeah...yeah, okay."
She offered him a small smile before moving to the locker room's exit. Her robot stopped in front of him. It whirred noisily before following its owner. Iggy rolled his eyes and rose from the bench. He needed a shower before he could sleep for the night.
As he prepared to head to the showers in the locker room, he spotted a band of men dressed in stark black and gold uniforms—different from the bulky white armor of the standard Elysian guards—escorting a tall, brown-skinned woman with pink tattoos and even pinker hair. Her features were soft, her purple eyes warm, yet her domineering frame possessed a cold sense of regality.
Before disappearing down the hallway, she turned her head in Iggy's direction. They locked eyes for a split second, but that was enough for Iggy. He stood at the foot of the door, frozen again, with his mouth slightly ajar and blood rushing to his pointy ears. The image of the woman imprinted itself in his mind. A blush crept across his cheeks like paint spilling across a canvas.
Woah.
Then, just like that, she was gone.