Arena (29 page)

Soft pinging? I opened my eyes.

Incoming call from San Diego.

I scooped up my tablet and tapped the screen. When the image of a middle-aged woman flashed across it, I beamed.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, Sweetie. I'm glad I caught you. Are you busy?”

“It's a busy day, but I have a few minutes.”

“The championship is tonight, right? What channel is it on?”

I sighed. “You don't have to watch. I know how you feel about this stuff.”

“I can watch with one hand over my eyes. You know, between my fingers.” She demonstrated, peeking at me through her middle and ring fingers. I laughed.

“Everyone's been talking about it at the office all week,” she continued. “They say you're the first girl to lead a team in a championship. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it's true.”

“I never realized that.”

There was an awkward pause. Our eyes met a few times and looked away again. Finally, she broke the silence.

“I know you really want to win, but your father and I will be proud either way.”

“I know.” I smiled. “So will I.”

A buzz came from my door, and I knew who it was.

“One second,” I called out. “And damn it, Rooke, if you say something like you've already been in here before, I will punch you right through that metal door.”

I turned back to my tablet to find a coy grin on my mother's face.

“Not your boyfriend, huh?” she said cheekily. “Why has he been in your room?”

I fought a losing battle with the heat rushing to my face. “Well, uh, that's a long story.”

“Mmm-hmm. I thought that article in
Pro Gamer Weekly
was . . . What did you call it? Oh yeah, ‘crap.'”

Ah, yes. Crap. Poets, my mother and I.

I tried to suppress a smile and failed. “Turns out, not so much.”

The door buzzed again. Twice.

Mom grinned. “Persistent little bugger, isn't he?”

I mirrored her expression. “You have no idea.”

“He'd have to be to win you over.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You get your stubbornness from your father.”

I laughed, knowing it was exactly the opposite. “I appreciate the call, Mom, but I have to get going.”

“Okay. I'll let you go. Good luck. We'll be watching.”

The screen faded out on my mother's smile until the main menu popped up. I sat on the bed for a moment, trying to process how the call had made me feel. San Diego felt just a little bit closer, now. Maybe once the tournament was over, I'd go home for a visit.

I left the tablet on my bed and walked with Rooke to the cafeteria. I managed to eat breakfast and, more importantly, managed to keep it in my stomach. Even with the table full of my teammates and the facility's staff, every clang of a spoon or thunk of a mug echoed through the unusually quiet room.

We spent the morning training together, all of us in various matchups and attack positions. Time passed too slow and too fast altogether. Awkward silences seeped in between moments of action. Times when we'd meet eyes and just stare at each other, like we were sharing messages mind to mind.
Yeah, it's today. I'm not ready, either.

The day took on more shape when I met with Dr. Renner in her office for a final check-in before the championship.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

I sat in the chair, trying not to fidget too much. “Good. Nervous.”

“That's understandable. What are you most nervous about?”

“My teammates. This is their future, and it's in my hands.”

“They believe in you. Everyone here does.”

She stressed the word
everyone
. This woman, educated well beyond what I could ever understand, master of the complexities of the human mind, believed in me?

She leaned toward me and removed her glasses. “Nathan would be proud, you know.”

I swallowed thick and blinked back the stinging sensation in my eyes. But I wasn't crying. Warriors don't cry.

“Thanks for your help, Doc,” I said, forcing an even tone to my voice.

She smiled and replaced her glasses, sitting back in her chair. “You've changed a lot over these past weeks. I'm glad I got to be a part of it.” She leaned toward me once more, as if sharing a secret. “You also impacted the industry. You're about to lead this team to something so much more than victory.”

My stomach did a somersault. I held up a hand. “Let's not get that far.”

She shook her head and smiled again. “You've been so focused on Nathan and the team, I think you've forgotten about yourself, a little. You're the first woman to lead a team into a championship match. Win or lose, you've already made history.”

The somersaults morphed into a high-power mixing machine.

“Okay, stop now.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What's wrong? Don't you believe it yourself?”

“It's not that. It's just . . . you're confident I have this in the bag, so to speak. I can't even picture myself winning. Or leading the team to victory. Or anything. And if we don't win, then was everything we did this season for nothing? What if we let Nathan down?”

It was her turn to hold up a hand. “You can't let Nathan down. Not after everything you've done to preserve his honor. And everything you did this season will just prepare you for the next. Does every baseball team only have one shot at the World Series? No. They come back next year and go for it again. There will be other tournaments, Kali. Win or lose, your life isn't over tonight. It's just beginning.”

I curled a lip at her words. There was some truth behind them, but that didn't stop my churning gut.

When the doc surveyed my doubtful expression, she leaned toward me again. “It's easier to think about when you envision what comes next. And I don't just mean the celebration afterwards or the press releases, or even the next day. Picture yourself in the next tournament. Picture where you'll be six months from now. No matter what happens tonight, you'll still get there. Then it won't seem like such a big deal.”

Right now, it was. It was the biggest deal in the history of the universe. How could losing the tournament not have an impact on where I'd be in six months?

The doc tried again. “Think about it this way: Where is it you'd like to end up, Kali? What matters to you most?”

I faltered. “I . . . don't know.”

These tournaments, making it as a pro gamer was all that had mattered to me. But now, living this life, sacrificing parts of myself . . . Was it worth it?

I stood up from the chair and headed for the exit.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“I have some thinking to do.”

—

The rest of the day, I considered the doc's words. Even that afternoon, as I looked down at the world below me and smiled at the wind whipping through my hair. The strange thing was I wasn't plugged in.

While most teams plugged in and played from a facility, all the eSports championships took place in an arena. The ten of us, the team and our programmers, were flown in by helicopter to the Riot Games Arena, located in downtown Los Angeles, across the street from the historic Staples Center and the renovated L.A. Convention Center.

Inside the arena, I warmed up with my teammates in the training rooms offstage. Most sports teams had locker rooms. We had dojos. In the center of the room, I practiced my Tai Chi routine for what seemed like the last time. Tomorrow, the season would be over. We'd be champions, or we wouldn't. But we'd still be a team, we'd still be athletic gamers, and there was always next year if things didn't go our way. The doctor was right. It was easier to picture myself through all this. Now, the match seemed like a drop in the bucket.

A big-ass drop in a tiny little bucket, but hey, I was working on it.

Once I brought my routine to a close, I sat on the floor and settled into a meditative position. Minutes passed, maybe hours, as I sat there in silence with my teammates training around me, one with each other and ourselves.

Except I wasn't. I wasn't completely one with myself. Because the question tugged at the back of my mind. The one the doc had posed. What mattered to me most? I wasn't sure. For so long it had been the games. Nothing else mattered. The fame and free drugs were nice perks at first, but those had grown stale.

Worse than old coffee. No, really.

So then, what did matter? Where was I heading? I took a breath and pushed down into my stomach, reminding myself to stay grounded and
focused. I was twenty years old and on top of the world. I could go anywhere, do anything I wanted.

So, what was that, exactly?

Not everyone gets these kinds of opportunities. Not everyone has the world as their oyster. I did. I'd been blessed. Now it was time to decide what to do with my gifts.

“Defiance.”

I opened my eyes and looked to the doorway, where a woman stood clutching a tablet. She nodded toward the darkened hallway behind her.

“Prepare to get onstage. It's time.”

T
his was it. Our Super Bowl. Our Stanley Cup.

The time was now.

On the monitors backstage, we had a full view inside the arena. The entire interior gleamed like black lacquer. Embedded floor lights ran in tracks outlining the aisles and seating sections, glowing in an iridescent blue-white. The color scheme and design was a hat tip to the classic movie
Tron
, one of the first to feature a character disappearing into a video game.

In the center of the arena, the stage was the shape of a four-way directional pad, also outlined in a blue-white glow. Enormous, two-hundred-foot screens faced each of the four directions. The east and west stages featured the pod centers for each team, while the north held the announcers' booth, and the south was reserved for interviews and other general announcements.

Sold out at full capacity, the arena was filled with twenty thousand fans. About one in three was dressed as their favorite video game character. It was Halloween, after all. Some paid homage to the more famous characters: Link, Lara Croft, Cloud Strife, and Halo Soldiers. Others were from the most recent games, Queen Ryadoc Serend, ruler of the biggest virtual RPG in history, alongside Nico Reese, star of the latest action game on the PlayStation Platinum console. There were even a few dressed in battle gear that mimicked our own, both Defiance and InvictUS.

The crowd suddenly erupted with applause, screams, and whistles. Marcus Ryan and Howie Fulton walked out onto the south side of the stage, though the larger-than-life screens showed them from all angles so everyone in the audience could see. They smiled and waved, wearing suits and their traditional headsets, which doubled as microphones.

“Good evening,” Marcus began, his voice echoing throughout the arena. “I'm Marcus Ryan.”

“And I'm Howie Fulton. And this is . . .” He pointed out at the crowd. Twenty thousand voices answered him.

“
Saturday Night Gaming
.”

The crowd erupted again with applause and cheers.

Marcus beamed at the cameras. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Riot Games Arena in Los Angeles, California.” Another round of monstrous applause came from the crowd. “Years of prep and training, months of preseason action and tournament matchups have all led to this point. Tonight is the national championship for the RAGE tournaments, what has become the biggest event in the VGL thanks to these two teams. InvictUS vs. Defiance, the hottest rivalry we've ever seen. It all comes down to this final fight. Who will be crowned the 2054 RAGE Champions?”

“That's right, Marcus. This is a groundbreaking moment in league history as we are joined by more viewers than ever before from countries all around the world. We are privileged to watch the top teams compete in what is sure to be history in the making.”

Hannah fanned herself in the background. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Don't listen to it,” I said, waving at the screen like it was nothing despite my own churning gut. “They're just amping up the excitement for the crowd.”

As if just to spite me, Marcus spoke up in the background.

“Let's check out some of the parties around the world. Locally, in Los Angeles.”

The footage changed over to a live feed of downtown L.A. overflowing with a sea of bodies.

“New York City.”

The footage changed again to the largest city in the country, and my stomach twisted at the sight. Times Square looked less full on New Year's Eve.

“London, England.”

Another sea of people. Union Jacks waved in the background.

“And Seoul, South Korea.”

In the country that had always been the biggest for video game tournaments, I watched as the cameras panned across entire stadiums of people that had gathered to watch on screens larger than any I'd ever seen before.

“Okay,” Hannah said. “Now I really am going to be sick.”

Either the rest of my teammates felt the same, or they were really dedicated to the team—being they were all matching shades of green.

I walked up to Hannah and took her hand. “Hannah, look at me. We trained for this. We're here because we are the best, and we want it the most. We've dedicated our lives to the game.” I took a breath and found myself speaking the doctor's words. “Where do you want to be tomorrow?”

“It depends—”

“No, it doesn't. It doesn't depend on tonight. Where do you want to be tomorrow?”

“But, I want to be a champion.”

“Then, you try. And if you don't make it, tomorrow you get up and try again. This isn't the only championship. This isn't the only chance you'll ever have. Tomorrow, win or lose, you'll be a gamer who gave it her all to get there. That's what matters.”

The clenched muscles in her face and shoulders relaxed as she accepted my words. Eventually, she sighed and nodded. The doctor was right. This was just a moment in time. An important moment, but there would be plenty of those in our futures. How we learned from them was what really mattered.

Onstage, Marcus bellowed.

“In this corner,” Marcus joked, as if this were a boxing match. He pointed at the west side of the stage, where five pods sat waiting. “Please welcome to the stage . . . IN-VICT-US.”

Deep in the crowd, a set of double doors opened, and the five members of InvictUS walked out and down the aisle between throngs of fans, held back by rails. Music blasted from the speakers, but the crowd's chaotic screams nearly swallowed any other sound. All five stared straight ahead, expressions as ruthless as killers.

Please just be part of their image.

“Shit, they're huge,” Derek commented, and we all nodded. It really shouldn't have been a surprise. We are our avatars, so they'd have to be the same size in real life as they were in the virtual world. Still, seeing them in person instead of only inside the game made it all the more real. These guys could have been pro wrestlers.

The stage director shooed us to the doors.

“Get ready.”

After InvictUS filed onstage, Howie took over the announcing.

“And in this corner”—he pointed at the east stage featuring our pods—“ladies and gentlemen, we give you DE-FI-ANCE.”

The double doors opened, and I led the team into the arena. Twenty thousand voices enveloped me in a deafening roar that rivaled a jet engine. I smiled my warrior's smile and marched confidently down the aisle to the stage. Inside, my stomach curled. I was melting under the heat of the lights and number of people packed into one open space. My nerves shook until my knees nearly buckled. I felt like I was walking on a tightrope.

We climbed the steps to the stage and faced the audience, leaving a good five-foot gap between ourselves and InvictUS. I purposely turned my gaze away from them and focused on the crowd, thinking the twenty thousand screaming fans would be less intimidating than the brutes standing next to me. I was wrong. Looking out at the fans as they cheered and waved made me realize just how many people were watching us, counting on us to win. My stomach churned. No. I was being stupid. Most professional athletes had to deal with this every single game. I centered myself, calming my nerves.

It was a game. Nothing more. We were here because we were at the top of our form, and we deserved it.

I glanced over at InvictUS, five carbon copies of flesh-colored titans.
Taking a deep breath, I calmed my nerves even further. They were people. Gamers like me. Either they would win, or we would. We'd practiced and trained and pushed ourselves as hard as we could, and we had fun through all the blood, sweat, and tears. In the end, that's what really mattered.

Winning, however, would be oh so sweet.

Howie and Marcus walked forward to a stand at the end of the stage. It was covered with a small tarp.

“Tonight, we'll see these two amazing teams face off in what is sure to be an incredible matchup.”

“That's right. And they'll be playing for this.”

They ripped the tarp off the stand to reveal the VGL Champion Cup, black and sleek like the arena, with blue-white inlays. It glistened and sparkled in the endless stage lights and camera flashes from the audience. The names of every gamer from every tournament in 2054 were etched in plates around the base. Given the number of tournaments in the VGL and the always-evolving game lineup, there was a new cup issued every year. The cups from previous years sat in the VGL Hall of Fame. Forever.

“Remember,” Marcus began, “since Defiance is the team in the losers' bracket, they will need to defeat InvictUS without a single player lost.”

My stomach tightened, and I pushed a breath through my lips. We'd trained for this. Studied and planned as much as we could. We were ready.

“Tonight, not only is Team Defiance fighting to win, but also for the memory of their fallen teammate, Nathan Saunders,” Howie said. He stepped toward the audience and raised his voice, so he was heard in every corner of the arena. “Despite what you might have heard, Nathan Saunders died of a drug overdose earlier this season. He's not the only one, either. It's a problem that's plagued these tournaments for years.”

What the hell did he just say?

Behind Howie's back, out of sight of the cameras, Marcus gave me a thumbs-up.

I stood there, numb and blinking, too stunned to react as the announcers spoke the truth about Nathan's death and the trouble gamers experienced both in and out of the games. They, too, had risked their careers to shoot the middle finger at an industry poised to swallow us whole.
Whether the producers had cut it from air or not, it didn't matter. There were twenty thousand people in the audience. With twenty thousand phones.

Rooke lowered his head, and whispered to me, “You've even turned the announcers into rebels.”

My open mouth spread into a smile as pride overflowed my veins. Pride for the announcers, for standing up for what they believed in. Pride in my team, for following me this far. Pride in myself, for fighting for what was right.

Like Rooke had said, be a good leader and people will follow.

Oh, God. Blah. He was right.

The crowd went eerily silent, the kind of silence where you hear a single cough, and it echoes throughout the entire room. A phone lit up in the audience, like a beacon from a lighthouse in the dark. Then another. And another. Soon, the entire arena was glowing with the screens of twenty thousand devices. Devices they'd use to get the word out. This was it. There was no stopping the truth now. The Internet would explode. Every social-media site would overflow. There was no hiding, no cover-up that could stop the momentum we'd created.

There you go, industry.

Eat it.

“All right,” Howie said, glancing back at us. “We want a good, clean fight. And most of all, we want to be entertained.”

The crowd laughed, then cheered.

Marcus turned to the cameras. “As the teams get ready to plug in, here's a quick word from our sponsors.”

That was our cue.

I walked with my teammates to the east stage, where our pods sat waiting. Above us on the screen was our team logo, shimmering for the audience to see. Just before I climbed into my pod, Elise nodded at me from her workstation. I smiled back and took a breath. Here we go.

The doors closed around me with a deafening boom. Had they always been that loud? Wires crawled across my skin, triggering goose bumps and chills that only added to the weighted feeling in my stomach. And yet,
somehow, I felt numb to it all, as if the lid had just been closed on my own coffin, with me inside it.

I steadied myself, pushing the fear out with a slow, calming breath. After a few more, it evaporated, as if lifting out of my pores. The weight was gone, never to press down again. I focused on the sensations of the real world. The wires tickling as they attached to my skin, the heated air of the arena, and the soft shimmer of the pod's opal core. Last match.

Last time.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I stood inside the tower.