And that was before they started demolishing the buildings.
I signaled to my team. "Come on — we have to take out as many as possible!"
Leaping back into the fray, I struck as fast as I could, movements blurring, heart pounding, sweat floating across the air, intermingling with shredded metal and sparks. Mouse fought beside me, yelling as his sizzling blade sliced through armor as if it were cardboard. The battle intensified as more Brutes spilled from the remaining structures, firing stun rounds and concussion grenades. Those who weren’t lightning quick or heavily armored went down quickly, crashing their vehicles or crumbling under the bombardment. On my holoband screen, I saw my team's indicator lights winking out one by one as they were taken out with the rest of the contestants.
An unusually tall Brute skittered toward us, metallic legs clattering and mounted guns firing concussion rounds that exploded on impact. We avoided the barrage; Mouse dropping low and whirling between the multiple limbs, blade flashing as it sliced through the joints in a shower of electric sparks. As the robotic centipede staggered, I leaped up, boomstaff twirling before slamming down on the elongated neck and decapitating it. Even as I dashed to my next target, I knew it was pointless. While the rest of us engaged in combat, Jonesy and his crew did demolition work: destroying the buildings that the attackers emerged from. The wrecking ball from Jonesy's wrecker swung dangerously close, stirring my hair as it swung into a nearby house, disintegrating the structure with one destructive blow. I hit the ground as debris and robotic remnants whistled through the air like tornadic rubble. In the distance, one of Jonesy's crew plowed a heavy dozer into a tall, metal signal tower, ramming it repeatedly until the metal framework buckled from the force, screeching as if agonized.
The Melee was supposed to end with the Bricks: the last wave of massive, nearly impenetrable mech fighters that would typically be powerful enough to defeat any remaining contestants, with the winner declared by the last team standing or most points accrued. But the mechs never had a chance to emerge because Jonesy and his team were too good. As the signal tower crashed to the earth in a cloud of dust, I felt something I rarely experienced: the gut-wrenching agony of defeat. Despite my physical and mental gifts, despite my carefully-prepared plans, I'd been outsmarted and outplayed by Jonesy, someone I underestimated and dismissed as an inferior competitor. If Daiyu was there, I'm sure she'd have some sagacious words about humility and learning from my mistakes.
But she wasn't there, and all I felt was miserable.
The emerging Bricks froze in mid-motion, signals interrupted, reduced to hulking carcasses that no longer posed a threat. Ceremonial music blared over the speakers triumphantly as fireworks exploded and sonic jets roared overhead, trailing plumes of multicolored vapor. Every massive screen and holographic billboard displayed footage of the battlefield and what I already knew: the final point tally, where Jonesy's team topped mine by over four hundred points. I bit my bottom lip as I stared upward, nearly trembling with disappointment.
Mouse placed a consoling hand on my shoulder. "Well, second isn't so bad. There's always next year, Merlin."
I nodded, not wanting to speak. I felt the rawness in my throat and feared I would start bawling like a baby if I tried to answer. I nodded instead, scrubbing an angry hand across my cheek to stop a rebellious tear from sliding down my face.
"Hey, kid."
The victor walked over, skull-embossed helmet in hand. I tried to contain my surprise because Jonesy wasn't a man like I figured. She was tall and slender, eyes glowing from thick liner, face studded with spiked piercings, short hair slashed with haphazard purple highlights, tattoos running down her neck and forearms exposed by her rolled-up sleeves.
Dropping her helmet carelessly, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, staring at me with uncomfortable intensity. When her eyes flashed with bluish light, I realized she had cyber-enhanced irises that scanned me from head to toe. Raising an eyebrow, she spewed smoke from her rosebud lips.
"Funny — I thought for sure you'd have some cyber augmentations. Scan shows you're one-hundred-percent norm, though. So how are you doing it?"
I folded my arms and tilted my head back. "Doing what?"
She gestured to the smoldering battleground. "Pulling off all of those stunts. You almost had me for a sec. If you don't have any cybernetics, then it's gotta be biological boosters. What are you taking?"
Her eyes slid over to Mouse, who looked even younger than me. "You're both just scrawny little kids, but you gave me a run for my money and took second in a pretty tough Tourney. Whatever you're on, better be careful. Burn too bright, and you might burn out."
I smirked. "Maybe we're just that good."
She flashed a chrome-plated smile. "Maybe you are. Tell you what — big money's in the Los Diablos Death Match. You find yourself there, you look me up. I can use a braveheart like you in my crew. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a trophy to hoist." With a wink, she turned and swaggered away toward the cheers of her team, basking in the hero worship.
To my surprise, I instantly felt better as I watched them celebrate a win that was supposed to be mine. But I made silly mistakes, errors that cost my teammates a victory. The next time I'd be prepared. Next time I'd account for every variable…
Mouse glanced at me. "Uh-oh. I know that look. You're already planning for next year, aren't you?"
I smiled. "Never crossed my mind. Come on — let's regroup with the team and get our trophy. Everyone did good today."
A few minutes later, we stood on the victor's stage, holding up the silver and waving to the throngs of cheering crowds and adoring fans while multicolored streamers fluttered down and music blasted on the massive speakers. I glanced at the first-place podium, where Jonesy and her team popped champagne bottles and hi-fived each other. Next year I'll be there with my team, I vowed to myself. It was just a matter of learning from my mistakes, something Daiyu taught me more often than I liked to admit.
The following celebration lasted long into the night. My team and I were media darlings, young daredevils who managed to compete against and nearly unseat the legendary Jonesy and her Wild Bunch. I chatted with sponsors and brokered deals, signed autographs and took pictures with fans, had beverages I wasn't old enough to drink, and partied with my team until the crack of dawn. All the while, Mouse nervously tried his best to pull me away, worried that Daiyu would somehow find out about our escapade. And in turn, I laughed and brushed him off, teasing him for being a worrywart. It was full into morning by the time that we dragged ourselves back home, into a house that was supposed to be empty.
But instead, we found Daiyu waiting for us.
4
She sat at the small dining table, a neglected cup of tea in front of her. Eyes hooded, she watched us shuffle forward, instantly cowed by her icy demeanor. She said nothing, gaze sharp and mouth tight as she assessed with a judgmental stare. With methodical care, she lifted her cup and sipped.
"Mateo, go to your room."
He hesitated, eyes flicking in my direction. "Sister, I—"
"I won't repeat myself."
He dropped his head. "Yes, Sister." Giving me a regretful look, he sighed and left the room.
Daiyu gestured to the seat opposite her. I obeyed just as Mouse had, face hot from the humiliation.
Daiyu sipped again, glancing at the trophy I set on the floor. "Silver."
My cheeks burned. "Yes."
She shook her head. "If you were to risk punishment, I would think you'd at least have won the tournament."