The day came sooner than expected. Ryan parks on the arena's parking lot; he uses a space labelled as Reserved for the Combatants since almost all spaces for regular visitors are taken. When I see the arena and the people gathered in front of it, I feel a strong urge to turn tail.
So many people will see me. Maybe some of them will cheer for me, but the majority will chant against me. I'm sure about that. People love their celebrities, those Champions who already reached success, preferrably those who have their own action figures and T-shirts.
Nobody cares about someone who just appeared out of nowhere.
On the other hand, all Champions have been in this position once. Odin, Scarla, even Nightingale. As I told Ryan, every journey begins with a single step. It's something my dad told me.
Maybe the people on the other side of the wall have teleportation machines, but we don't. That means nothing is going to miraculously carry you straight to the goal. If you want something, you have to deserve it, take all the necessary steps to make it. And every journey, no matter how long, begins with a single step.
This is for you, dad. I'll take this first step in your honor.
Ryan says nothing. Maybe he's aware that stupid phrases like How do you feel? or Are you ready? would only make me more nervous. I personally feel like the biggest contradiction walking on mechanical legs. I am ready to take on everything that crosses my way, but at the same time, I just wanna hide somewhere out of sight and wait until this fuss just ceases.
However, there's no turning back.
The main entrance is completely different from what we saw the day I registered. The whole place is crowded, both terminals which sell tickets are burdened by long queues. The girl selling souvenirs probably feels more useful today since a similar queue lines up in front of her cubicle.
"Do we have to wait here...?" I ask.
"No," Ryan replies and points at a holographic arrow floating above the main hallway. It points to the right and says: CHAMPIONS ENTRANCE.
We ignore the vibrant crowds and aim in the arrow's direction. It guides us into the same room where I registered, but now, the biggest door leading from the room are open. They lead into a large (I don't know if this is considered large since I haven't seen any other arenas, but I'll go with this) outdoor arena with a sand base. I feel the soft grains under my feet as I step in, followed by Ryan.
I gulp as I see the terraces slowly filling with people. Above my head, there are four massive TV screens in a square-shaped pattern, so even the most distant viewers can see what's happening.
So they will be able to see my failure.
"So, this is where we have to part ways," Ryan tells me, pointing at the terrace closest to the arena. There are already some people sitting, about fifteen of them - of course, the partners of Champions. Ryan then does something unimaginable - hugs me. "Good luck, Zoya. I'll like you no matter what."
"Thank you, Ryan."
My partner takes a seat next to a tall, wiry guy wearing clothing with large, visible brand names. Probably some nitwit who has to flaunt how wealthy he is.
My place is somewhere else. Nearby, I see a group of Champions of all shapes and sizes. I take a deep breath and approach them, much like a school child would approach their classmates for the first time. Maybe it's my mind that exaggerates things, but they seem so threatening, experienced, vicious.
Some of them just casually chat, a few of them are just standing aside. I'm not sure if I should join them or become an observer. How would they react to me? Are they hostile towards newcomers?
And why do I care at all? We, me and Isaiah, met countless hostile Tribes and individuals who acted harsh towards us. And they actually wanted to kill us. What's the worst thing that can happen right now? They can mock me, insult me, ridicule me.
But the physical violence will happen in the arena. And there, we're all equals.
...
I approach the group of Champions. They are all rather young, seemingly not older than twenty. They look at me with mixed emotions. Curiosity, amusement, disbelief, even friendship.
"Look, a new one," says one of them, a girl with messy black hair, thick eyeliner and numerous piercings in her face. "I haven't seen you yet. First time?"
I nod, trying to not look intimidated. "I'm Tempest. I don't expect you to go easy on you."
Some of them laugh.
Another Champion, a sinewy guy whose tank top reveals powerful, muscular arms ending with black artificial hands, steps forward. "We're glad you've got feet on the ground, virgin," he smirks. "Neoclash is a rough business and there won't be your mommy to blow at your boo-boo."
I decide to play hardball a bit. "I live without my mother since I turned ten. I'm not afraid of you."
They respond with impressed "Oooh!"
"I wish you good luck then, Tempest," he replies.
Within another half an hour (it's almost one now), the rest of the Champions arrives. Twenty-four of us. Each of them is my possible opponent. Sheer majority of them looks more experienced and skilled than I am. About three of them look just as timid and insecure as me. The rest is somewhere in between.
The terraces are also full of people now. My insecurity slowly fades and becomes replaced by resolve and thrill. I'm excited about things that will happen next. Maybe I lose. I'll probably lose. But I don't mind it anymore. As long as I show these people who I am, I'm fine with that.
A few minutes later, we're approached by a Healthy man in a black T-shirt with three Neoclash symbols and letters REFEREE. The good-looking man in his late forties gives each of us a black wristband made of plastic with a yellow-glowing diode. Then he wishes us good luck.
The girl with piercings notices my confused look. "This is the INF system device," she explains. "Impact Nullifying Field. When you wear it, you won't get hurt, no matter how hard we beat you," she smirks.
I attach the bracelet on my wrist. The diode starts to blink until it turns green. I don't feel anything special, but I've already seen INF system in action on TV. Good. At least I won't get killed.
Then, finally, something happens. The music which played until now stops and instead, the commentator's voice resonates through the arena. He's sitting in a cubicle on the uppermost terrace, so we can't see his face. "Welcome to another Newcastle Skirmish!" he announces. "I'm sure the Champions will do their best to entertain you, earn respect and win the prize money!"
The audience applauds him. I look to the partner terrace and see Ryan. He also claps, but looks at me with a mix of pride and worries. I give him a reassuring smile.
"Your owner isn't gonna help you, virgin," the muscular Champion whispers towards me.
I try to ignore him. Secretly, I hope I won't compete against him.
"And here are our today's contestants!" the commentator continues and the jumbotrons above us show a table containing our Champion names, faces, records. The number 0/0 next to my photo is rather telling. The audience starts to hum in excitement. Is it because of me? Is seeing a virgin's first match something extraordinary? I hope it's not. Being the centre of attention doesn't suit me.
"I guess you're not curious about my talks, so let's get straight to action! Please finish placing your bets on today's winner." I wonder what are my odds right now. "Okay, let's draw the pair for the first fight!"
We take a seat at the Champion terrace, twenty-four detached seats across the Partner terrace. I still see Ryan and draw serenity from his presence. When looking at the Champions, I guess I'd be able to compete equally with about eight of them. Let's hope I'll be paired with one of them.
Soon after, two faces appear on the street and the crowd starts to cheer. The tall, muscular bully is the first contestant. His opponent is the girl with piercings.
I watch their fight with fascination. Perfect reflexes, speed, agility, technology. The girl's fighting style is rather similar to mine, it's just more brutal. She uses one artificial arm and one leg in perfect harmony and after a tough fight, she scores the final Fatal point by performing a devastating kick on the guy's head.
He lost. The girl celebrates victory. And the crowd goes crazy.
...
The next fight is much less interesting. They're both beginners and it takes them eternity to score a Clash point. The two guys seem like constantly sorry for even touching their opponent and it takes about twenty minutes until one of them wins. Okay, that wasn't satisfying at all.
However, my apathy quickly goes away when my face appears on the screen.
And the opponent? A guy from the "in between" category. He was the one standing aside during our initial discussion. He's not very tall, but slim and agile. His black hair are tied into a ponytail, gray eyes radiate mystery. His black tracksuit reveals dark gray arms, artificial up to the elbow.
He's about eighteen, so I assume he's more experienced that I am. But not too much. His face is firm, but not as confident as a skilled fighter would be.
"Our next fight will be Tempest against Jackdaw!" the commentator announces. "Please, place your bets! Tempest is new in this business. Will she stand a chance? We'll soon find out!"
"Good luck, virgin," Jackdaw smirks at me. "It'd be a honor to deflower you."
I return the smirk. "Please, be gentle."
We stand on the elevated circles near the middle of the arena, our starting spots. Then, we look at the jumbotrons. A familiar set of phrases appears there, just like before any other Neoclash fight:
Arena configuration complete. INF system active. Champions on their spots. Ten seconds for preparation remaining.
During the countdown, I try to calm down. Remember everything Odin and Scarla taught me. Determined to do my best, I take one last long breath and get ready for the fight. Are Odin, Scarla, Blackbolt, Swiftwind and the others somewhere in the audience? What do they expect?
Get ready. Begin.
The audience cheers, but I try to shove them in the background. The time has come. My first real fight.
Jackdaw immediately shows off the Ace in his artificial arms - hidden in his forearm, there are numerous thin, knife-like blades which unfold in the direction of the wrist, creating a deadly fan-shaped semicircle which looks almost like little wing.
I'm now assumed to rush towards Jackdaw and begin the fight, but that's not what Scarla taught me. I just stand on my spot in a battle stance, trying to look a bit wobbly. I need him to underestimate me.
He's just two meters away from me. One meter. Half a meter.
He raises his fist to strike.
This is where I perform a rapid roundhouse kick. My leg flashes through the air and connects with Jackdaw's chin. My opponent gasps and stumbles backwards. A loud buzz sounds through the arena.
I'm completely stunned. I did it. The very first Clash point in my entire carreer. The crowd cheers louder than before. I'm sure some of them didn't expect me to even move.
I showed them.
"It seems Tempest just kicked off her carreer!" the commentator says.
O__|___ | Tempest | Jackdaw | ___|___
I realize too late that I could use Jackdaw's surprise to strike and score another point. However, I got too distracted by my first partial success. I allowed Jackdaw to recover and now he rushes towards me again. I have no time to repeat my surprise attack. He takes a swing at me and I have to lean backwards to avoid the deadly set of blades on his forearms.
I duck as his other arm swings above my head. Then I have to jump up since Jackdaw tries to hit my shin with a low kick. I realize I should've tried a backflip instead at the moment Jackdaw's fist flies through the air and lands on my chest area while I'm still mid-air.
A buzzer indicates the score is even. I fall on my back, slightly shook from the impact which wasn't as powerful as I expected. However, I have to recover quickly since Jackdaw is already above me, raising his arm to slice me with the set of blades.
I manage to roll away in time. Jackdaw's blades scratch the ground, striking several sparks. Just like I did in my initial fight with Odin, I kick more or less blindly. But the Fortune is with me. I feel my foot connecting with Jackdaw's shin and hear his grunt.
...
The attack wasn't powerful enough to score a Clash point, but enough to make him stumble. This time, I don't hesitate. Before he recovers, I jump on my feet and greet his face with a powerful spinning hook kick. It was difficult to master, but every second was worth it.
Not only it looks impressive. My heel delivers a crushing blow and if INF system wasn't active, Jackdaw would lose some teeth. If I was stronger and more experienced, this attack would probably result in a direct Fatal point. But a Clash point is also good.
OO_|___ | Tempest | Jackdaw | ___|__O
I'm winning. Not only I can fight as equal, but I'm winning. The fight just began, but my confidence rises as the crowd cheers. For me. They just witnessed a virgin beating the hell out of a Champion who is also a beginner, but still more experienced.
I hear Jackdaw mutter something under his breath as he pulls himself together. When I prick up my ears, I can hear the sentence he repeats like a mantra:
"I won't lose to a virgin."
He gives me a hateful look. Then he rushes forward with a battle cry. Forgetting all techniques and tactics, he just rains punches and kicks on me. Blocking his attacks is harder also because the menacing knives protruding from his forearm. During his frenzy, he manages to break my defense twice, resulting in two Clash points. His three Clash points convert into the first Fatal point.
The attacks caught me off-guard. When I regain my wits a little, I dodge his attack, then do a back handspring to get out of his reach. Then, before he can execute another attack, I jump high above him and land behind his back. I want to knock him down with a push kick, but he turns around too quickly.
That's why I have to satisfy with another quick roundhouse kick. It is worth a Clash point. My third one. That means the score is equal again - one Fatal point for each.
It seems that Jackdaw learned the tantrums get him nowhere. Now he looks at me with cold calculation. He attacks again and I raise my hands in a defensive stance. His left leg goes into motion, probably to repay me with his own roundhouse kick. I adjust my pose to counter it.
However, before I can comprehend what happened, Jackdaw's left leg is firmly on the fround again. Then, before I can react, his right leg flashes in a rapid front kick which connects with my stomach.
I double over with flickering lights before my eyes. My mind is screaming at me to counterattack, but my body is jammed. My injured midriff pulsates so intensely I almost overhear the buzzing sound indicating Jackdaw's Clash point. I'm out of breath. I can't move.
Jackdaw approaches me at rapid pace, jumps up and fluently continues into a spinning crescent kick. I close my eyes, so I only feel the crushing impact on my face. When I open them again, I see only sand. I collapsed on the ground and I don't feel like standing up again.
My stomach is twisting so intensely I feel like throwing up, but it's still nothing compared to my head. My brain feels delirious and I lost all control over my body. I hear myself yowling like a hurt animal. The crowd went silent, or maybe it's just my ears going out of business.
The pain. I can't stand it. I try to get up, but it's getting only worse. Then I feel something that would serve as the last nail in my coffin - tears. Am I really going to start crying here?
I am.
I hunch myself on the ground, covering my face as quiet sobs take over my body. I see tears falling down, mixing with the sand below me. Silently, I pray for this to end, but I also expect Jackdaw's final blow. It doesn't come, but that makes the situation only slightly better.
I give up. I give up...
"Stop! STOP THE FIGHT!"
I rush from the partners' terrace into the arena. My heart races upon seeing Zoya on the ground, curled up and shaking. What happened? Is she hurt? Did the INF system fail?
It's improbable. The INF system must follow strict guidelines and has countless backups in case something goes wrong. What happened then? Jackdaw's kick was devastating for sure, but every Champion should be able to endure it.
However, this is Zoya's first fight. She's not used to pain and violence, not even from the Dead Zone. Such impact could easily result in a shock.
Fortunately, Zoya's opponent doesn't seem to attack Zoya anymore. He just stands there with a shocked, confused expression, not sure if he didn't do something wrong. The crowd is completely silent. Nobody knows what happened, they all just see the devastated girl on the ground.
"Well, this is... unfortunate," the commentator speaks. "It seems that something happened to Tempest. Since this is her first fight, it's possible she couldn't withstand the pressure. But she fought bravely. Well... this is... really strange. I'm not sure if she'll be able to continue."
"Turn off these cameras, idiots!" I shout in the commentator cubicle's direction. Fortunately, the jumbotrons above us start to show the list of participants instead of broadcasting the events in the arena. I'm free to approach Zoya and softly touch her shoulders. She flinches when she feels me.
"It's me, Ryan," I say. "I'm here. With you. What happened?"
The girl finally loosens up a little. She looks at me, her face ghastly pale, only a red mark indicates where Jackdaw's foot impacted. Her eyes are full of tears. I've never seen her so broken, not even at the Castaway market. She shakes uncontrollably, suddenly looking three or four years younger.
"Zoya," I whisper. "What happened?"
"Just... just take me out of here," she voices.
I support her as she gets back on her feet. To my surprise, the crowd starts to clap as we exit the arena. Before Jackdaw's final attack, she fought really well. They were equal opponents. But then... something happened. What the hell was I thinking? Did I really think she's hardened enough to go into a real fight? Yeah, she's got some moves and decent technique, but her body and mind wasn't ready for that.
As soon as we leave, the melancholic clapping changes to thunderous applause as the crowd celebrates Jackdaw, the victor. The Champion, however, doesn't seem to enjoy his victory very much.
I guide Zoya to the car and help her to get in. Then, before I can start the engine, Zoya bursts into tears. Not just shocked sobbing, but loud, heart-rending weeping.
What should I do now? I have zero experience with comforting people and I'm afraid I'd only make things worse. I at least offer her my jacket to cover her. She accepts it, but the wailing doesn't cease.
"Zoya... please, calm down," I say.
"How can I?" she weeps. "You should just leave me here and drive away. I screwed up so badly. I'm not a Champion. I'm nothing. I don't deserve to be here. I let you down. Sorry. I'm so sorry..."
"Don't say such things," I reply. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have let you participate in the first place. You weren't ready for this and I should have realized it earlier. It's me who should apologize."
"Just... just take me out of here. Please," she repeats.
I start the engine and leave Newcastle. Normally, I'd find Zoya's constant sobbing irritating, but now, it invokes only compassion and guilt.
I have a bad feeling that Champion isn't the right carreer for her after all.
When we arrive home, Zoya is calmed down a little, but she's still shaking and on the constant verge of crying. The proud, lively girl she was during the past weeks is gone. For how long? Forever? Even though I shouldn't, I also think about myself. What will I do if Zoya refuses to fight? I'd be even more broke than before, plus saddled with mentally unstable Castaway girl.
"Please excuse me," Zoya says and disappears into the bathroom.
...
She stays there for several hours. I leave her alone, just with occassional checks whether she's still alive. Muffled sobs give away she's there, settling with her public humiliation.
The evening is almost there. I open my pentop and visit the official Neoclash website. I groan loudly after seeing the internet isn't willing to ignore this unfortunate episode:
NEWCASTLE: Promising new Champion breaks down after her trial by fire
The article doesn't mock or ridicule Zoya in any way. It just states the obvious. She fought bravely until she received her first serious hit. Then she broke down and her partner had to stop the fight and carry her away from the arena. It is accompanied by several photos and a short video of the fight.
I cannot show this to her. Not now.
When it's almost six in the evening, I knock at the door. "Zoya?" I say. "Please come out, I suppose you don't want to sleep there. I'll get you something nice to eat."
"I'm not hungry," I hear Zoya's faded voice.
"Can I enter?"
"No."
I start assuming that Zoya got stuck, but after several minutes, she finally opens the door and leaves the bathroom. She looks horrible, almost like she just went through a rape. Messy hair, sunken, bloodshot eyes, a simple black T-shirt and boyshort panties. It's like she's avoiding looking at me.
Is it her guilt because she "disappointed" me? Or does she hate me because I dragged her into this?
I convince her to eat at least a few spoons of soup. However, it takes a while since her hands are still shaky. We sit in unpleasant, defeatist silence.
"I'm not returning to the arena ever again," Zoya finally whispers. "Sorry, but I can't."
"So you are gonna give up after one unsuccessful try?"
She nods.
Another wave of silence.
Then, suddenly, Zoya bursts out with a red face. "I know what you're thinking! I'm a failure. You wasted your money on me. But you don't understand what it's like! I fear pain. I can't handle it. I guess... I guess I found out way too late. I'll get a job, return your investment and leave. As soon as possible."
"No...!" I shout.
"Why would you sustain me here if I can't fight for you?"
"Listen up, Zoya. It's not about money anymore. Yeah, I'm disappointed and I'm sorry it turned out like this. But you are... my family. I can't just let you go because you bring me no profit. I know my project will probably go to shit, but now, you're like a sister to me. And I can't let you down like this."
Wow, I don't believe I actually said that. In fact, I "adopted" Zoya for financial reasons only. I'd never guess our relationship could go this far. But I meant it. Right now, Zoya is more important than money.
Zoya doesn't answer, just looks at me with insanely sad eyes.
"You know what? You should get some rest," I say. "Today was pretty rough, so I presume it'd be the best if we just sleep on it and tomorrow, we'll see it in a brand new perspective."
The girl nods. "I'm so tired."
I help her turn the couch in the living room into her bed, then I tuck her in like a small child. I have no idea when did I become this caring. Must be some kind of disease. "Sleep well and don't feel bad for what happened," I tell her. "We'll figure something out. Don't worry."
"Thank you, Ryan."
In my room, I have to eat three chocolate bars to calm myself down. I was sincere - I don't want Zoya to go. But what should I do now? She complicated things so much. But I'm still not mad at her. Maybe a little. As I said, it was mostly my fault. And I'm also the one to face consequences.
The next day, afternoon. I sit in an Irish-style pub with Austin Halliday, the man who gave Zoya her artificial legs. He has a huge mug of beer in front of him, I satisfy with coffee. I tend to stay away from alcohol - it messes with your wits and judgement way too much and I can't afford that. Besides that, it tastes horrible.
"That's unfortunate," Austin says for a fiftieth time. "What will you do now?"
I shrug in desperation. "No idea, Austin. I can't just let her go, I grew kinda attached to her."
Austin smirks. "That doesn't sound much like you."
"I know, and that bugs me the most about it. She changed me."
"Going sentimental, Ryan?"
"Fuck you, man. I'm trying to be serious. She seemed alright this morning, but she still insists she won't even try to fight anymore. Do you have any idea what to do? Because I'm going desperate."
Austin thinks about it for a while, sipping his beer. "You said she's overly sensitive to pain, right?"
I nod. "Actually, we'd be able to harden her manually. Make her get used to it. But she's too soft for that. I just wouldn't be able to watch her getting beaten just for the sake of my goddamn money."
"Actually... there's one more possibility," Austin brings up. His unpredictable expression gives me creeps.
"Go on."
"We can always use an Augment to make her more hardy."
"An Augment? Did you seriously lose your shit?" I shout; several visitors of the pub look at us with growing interest. "Look at her. She's tiny. I've seen much stronger Champions who struggled for weeks before their body accepted the Augment! Sorry, Austin, but this is wicked."
Austin shrugs. "Then you have three choices, my man. One, give her an Augment. Two, harden her manually. Three, just accept she's not and will never be a fighter."
"I'll go with number three."
Austin finishes his beer with several mighty gulps and orders another. "Ryan, I think you're too uptight. You know what Augments are. You helped to create some of them. They are safe. She may feel sick for a while, but what doesn't kill her, makes her stronger. Just one weak Augment."
"I still think it's not a good idea. Augments change them permanently. And you know what they say. If a Castaway takes too many Augments, they start to... lose themselves."
"That only applies to sluggers who took about thirty Augments!" Austin objects. "It's understandable their body knows no more what's going on since the mix of their natural, irradiated and augmented DNA becomes unstable sooner or later. But no Augment, even the strongest one, has side effect after first use."
"Man, I don't know."
"I have an idea. What about letting her decide? We deceived her once already - when I gave her the artificial legs. But Augments are a different story. You have to describe her what are they, including the possible aftermath, all pros and cons. She's a free, independant person after all."
"Okay, I will do it," I finish my coffee. "But for your information, I won't push her into anything. I want it to be her decision. What would be the point in stuffing Augments into her if she's already decided to quit fighting?"
Austin receives another beer. "You haven't used to be so soft. There were only two things that mattered to you - your research and money. And now you're hesitant to give a girl a harmless Augment just because it may cause her discomfort? Bro, you changed."
"It's not the first time I changed in my life."
"I'm aware. You don't talk much about your life before we met. Bad memories?"
I shrug. "Some good, some neutral, mostly bad. I lost my family, then received a new one with Zoya."
"Are they dead?"
I shake my head. "No, but for me, it's like they are. We were too different to walk the same path. They disavowed me and I didn't want to obtrude." I sigh. "Yeah, sometimes I miss them. Even after everything they told me. But I made my choice and it's too late to regret it now."
"I see. It's your sensitive spot, isn't it?"
"Yeah. I had to give up one family. That's why I don't want to lose Zoya, too."