donotlookatdiagram
New member
This is an original story. Thought I might post it on here for feedback.
My most sincere apologies go to Mandarin and French speakers. My knowledge of both languages is rather limited.
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Battle Cry
Prologue
February 16, 2237
TO THE PEOPLES OF THE WORLD:
As citizens of this planet, we must always remember that our resources are not unlimited. As a human species, we are outgrowing this planet, overtaxing her soil for food, and overtaxing her waters for drink. While recent advances in technology have slightly lessened our impact, nothing can lessen the cause of such burden on our planet: the constant growth of the human population. However, we, the Central Powers, hereby propose a solution, effective on March 14, 2237:
All young men and women from the age of fifteen until the age of twenty, will be under the custody of the Central Powers. There, they will participate in a “survival of the fittest”- type competition, one on one. Those who win ten fights (either by surrender or with the death of the opponent) will be set free. Those who are unable to win ten fights by their twentieth birthday will be executed.
Only those who will be fifteen on or after March 14, 2237 are affected by this decision. Compliance is necessary. All who resist will be executed where they stand.
With this solution in place, we expect the world population to be down to manageable levels by 2302. At that time, we will reevaluate this decision.
THE CENTRAL POWERS
Please note: This statement was translated into English for your convenience. The official languages of the Central Powers are Mandarin, French, and German. If you wish to contact your Central Powers Consulate, please communicate in either Mandarin, French, or German. For those lacking skills in any of those languages, translators and courses are available free of charge at the Consulate's office. Thank you for your cooperation!
Battle Cry
Part 1, Chapter 1
May 29, 2491
It was my fifteenth birthday, a day that I absolutely dreaded. The day I would be taken to those dreaded Battles. I knew very little about them, and my parents were forbidden to give me any advice or training for the event. The only thing I knew was that I had to fight, and win at least ten by my twentieth birthday. Winning in this case meant I either killed my opponent or they surrendered. Needless to say, I wasn't looking forward to this. I had barely finished my dinner Mom had prepared for me when the bus arrived at my house.
“Darren, the bus.” Mom called. Her voice seemed grim.
“Wait, I need to pack.” I called back, starting up the stairs to my room.
“No, they'll have everything you need there. Just please, when you're out there, don't do anything stupid. I want you back home.” Mom had said the same thing to Kyle, my brother, two years ago. He still hasn't come back, and the last thing we heard, he had won two fights by killing his opponent, one fight via surrender, and he had surrendered in four fights. That was two months after he had began his Battles.
The bus honked. It was one of those old buses: very dingy on the outside, and in fact it still had wheels. I wouldn't be surprised if it still ran on gas. I could even see a few bloodstains on the sides. I opened the front door and walked slowly out to the bus. I turned around and waved goodbye to my mom, who looked away. Once the bus door opened, the metallic smell of blood hit me like a brick wall.
“Vous êtes le seul à monter à cet arrêt?” The bus driver asked. I couldn't make any of it out, as I hadn't taken enough French to really say much more than my name.
“Je... non.... parler... le... française...” I stammered, gesturing as much as I could just in case the driver couldn't understand me.
“I said, are you the only one getting on here?” At least his German was good.
“I think so.” I replied. I worked my way to an empty seat in the back of the bus, which was completely empty.
“And what is your name?”
“Darren Abernathy.”
“Oh, and your French... it needs a lot of work. You said “I no to speak the male French woman.” It's supposed to be “Je ne parle pas français.” Just say that if one of the staff starts speaking French, got it?” The driver said as the bus started moving.
“Yeah, sure.” Great. So this potentially scarring event started out with a French lesson. There goes my hopes of ever learning French. I walked towards the back of the bus, sitting down in the back row of seats. Besides me and the driver, the bus was empty.
There was a silence until the bus stopped at my friend's house. We were born on the same day, and we even looked similar. Our parents even called us “the twins” because of this. After a few minutes of waiting, I saw my friend, Alan, step onto the bus. At least he got questioned in German.
“Hey, dude.” Alan said as if everything was completely normal.
“Hey.” I replied, equally nonchalant.
“So, you ready for this?”
“Eh, I guess. About as ready as I'll ever be.”
“Well, Kyle's doing well, right?” Even though we were best friends, we avoided this subject at all costs, just in case something happened.
“We haven't gotten anything back. Well, one report two months after he'd started. He had only won three fights.” I stated.
“And how many kills did he land?” Alan said, a smile forming on his face.
“Two. The other surrendered.”
“Heh. I want to get ten. It's more glorious that way, y'know?” This was the one thing that we never could agree on. Alan had some rather violent tendencies. We even acted out our own Battles when we were younger. He won every time, even sending me to the hospital with a broken arm once. That was part of the reason I dreaded this day so much. If I couldn't handle a stick flying at me, how would I be able to handle a sword?
“Well, I just want to get through. Glory aside, a win's a win.” I sighed. The bus lurched to another stop, this time letting on a girl. She sat next to us, with a smug grin on her face.
“Nǐ zhǔnbèi hǎo, wǒ shāle nǐ ma? Bùyào dǎ tā, nǐ zhīdào huì fāshēng shénme. Bié dānxīn, wǒ huì jìnlì
shǐ qí jǐn kěnéng wútòng. Méiyǒu chéngnuò.” The girl smiled as she turned around.
“Sorry, we don't understand Mandarin.” Alan said, in German.
“Wǒ bù zhīdào déguó.” The girl said.
“We don't understand Mandarin.” Alan repeated, this time in English.
“And I was saying I don't understand German.” The girl said, sounding almost offended. After a short silence, the girl glared at us, as if she was judging our fighting skills. Then she smiled smugly. “I'm Rachel Elliot. I suppose its nice to know the name of your killer, isn't it?”
“Who says you'll be killing us? I'd be willing to bet that the exact opposite is going to happen.” Alan said, his eyes narrowing. “And I guess you should know the name of your killer: Alan Matthews. It's a pleasure to meet you, Rachel.”
Rachel turned to face me. “And you? Your name?”
“Darren Abernathy.” I weakly said.
“Hm. Well, I look forward to fighting you. Just be ready to die.” Rachel turned around, looking out the window.
The bus came to another stop, this time letting on two people, a boy and a girl, obviously twins. They both sat across from Rachel.
“Nín hǎo, jiàn sìliào.” Rachel sneered.
“Wǒ xīwàng nǐ míngbái, wǒ jiǎng pǔtōnghuà.” The male twin said back with the same tone of voice.
“Ń, wǒ xiǎng zhè hěn hǎo. Huì bù huì dāng nǐ zài liúxuè de zhànchǎng shàng.” Rachel laughed back.
The two kept talking as Alan turned to the girl. “Hey, do you know what they are saying?”
“It's just smack talk.” She turned to her brother, nudging him. “Hey, save the talk for the Battles, alright?”
“Oh, I'm so very sorry.” Rachel sneered. “Well, as I told these two before, I am a civil person, and I wouldn't deny you the right to know your killer's name. It's Rachel Elliot.”
“Oh?” The girl grinned. “That's cute. However, I have a feeling I know who's going to be doing the killing.” The girl turned to me, smiling. “Sizing up your competition, huh? Notice any weak points yet?”
“W-What?” I stammered, surprised. “No! I wouldn't be surprised if I was the first to die out of all of us. I can't even win a play fight with sticks!”
Alan laughed. “It's true. I broke his arm once.”
“This is going to be easier than I thought.” Rachel laughed. “Poor guy. You won't last one fight.”
“Can we just stop talking about this? I just don't want to think about it until we get to the Battlegrounds.” I said frantically.
“Heh, well, it's going to be all you can think about for the next five years, might as well start now.” The boy said to me.
“Landon. Please. He doesn't want to think about this, alright?” The girl interjected.
“Michele, you don't know him. Besides, you might have to kill him later. Or he could kill you. Don't get attached.” The boy responded.
“I'm not getting attached, stupid. It's called being a decent human being.” Michele retorted.
The bus came to another stop, this time at a rather large gate.
“These are all the May twenty- ninths from Area six. No executions. No resistance. Seems to be a little rivalry going on though.” The driver called out the window. The gate slowly opened, revealing a courtyard, with several tall buildings scattered around a central tower. Each building looked like it was at least 40 stories tall, and the central tower looked to be at least one hundred stories tall.
The driver got out of his seat. “Welcome to the Battlegrounds.” The driver announced, repeating himself in Mandarin right afterward. “Head up to the computer and give it your name. Follow the directions from there.”
We all filed out of the bus, heading towards the computer, a thin pillar, with a very small screen.
“Please select your preferred language.” The voice said, in English. I touched the panel to select German.
“State your name.” The voice replied.
“Darren Abernathy.”
“Thank you.” The computer replied after a short pause. “Please take your identification card, printed below the screen. You will be housed in room number 332242, located in Barrack number three, on the thirty- second floor. You have one roommate, Alan Matthews, who has yet to arrive. Records indicate that he should be arriving shortly. Please wait for him. Good luck in your Battles!”
I took my ID card, a plain white card with an extremely long number printed on it. I waited for Alan to finish with the computer.
“Hey, man. Looks like we've got the same room.” Alan said. “Well, the computer said to go straight there. So do you know where Barrack three is?”
“Well, I suppose there would be signs for it somewhere.” I replied, looking around. Eventually I saw the sign for our building. We made our way to the building, entering it through large glass doors. The first floor was very plain: almost no decoration, and several doors lined each wall. The back wall had many elevator doors, as well as stairs.
“Hey, you two!” Someone called. We looked around, finding the source of the voice to be a young man, dressed in steel armor. He had a sword sheathed at his hip. “You're new here, aren't you?”
“Yeah, we just got here.” Alan replied.
“Ah. Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Arlen. I'm one of the head residents of Three.” The young man smiled.
“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked.
“Well, I was going to go train a little bit, but that can wait. My next fight isn't for a few days anyway. What floor do you live on?”
“Um, thirty- two.” I replied.
“Ah. Well, it just happens that I am one of the Head Residents on that floor. Let's get you two oriented. Follow me.” Arlen walked towards the elevators.
Alan stepped forward. “So, Arlen. Tell me, how many fights have you been in?”
“Twenty- eight.”
“And how have you not won ten yet?”
“Well, they've changed the rules. Surrenders don't count as wins anymore. Only kills count. So by these rules, I've won seven fights. By your rules, I've won nineteen. We'll cover the specifics later.”
We entered the elevator. Arlen scanned his card and the elevator started going up. Within a few seconds, the door opened on our floor. Arlen led the way to his room. He scanned his card again, and the door opened.
“Shit, that was fast.” A voice said, laughing.
“Well, I've got some fresh blood.” Arlen replied. He drew his sword, placing it into a slot in the wall. “What are you two waiting for? Come on in.”
Alan and I stepped into the room. It was rather small, but still could fit two people comfortably.
“Hey. So you guys are the new ones, eh? Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Gavin. Now, we need to get you guys settled in. Can I have your ID cards?”
Alan and I handed Gavin our cards. Gavin took them over to a computer, scanning them in.
“Alright. It says here that you two are starting your Survival in three days.” Gavin said.
“Huh? We have to fight in three days?” I asked in shock.
“No. This is different. They actually don't tell anyone about this part. You'll be put out in the woods in groups of six. All you need to do is survive for two weeks. However, if any of you die out there, the group will lose one chance to surrender. So if only five of you guys live, you can't surrender during a single fight. You'll be told which fight this applies to. You also need to stay in a group for the full two weeks. Any combatants that stray from the group will count as dead, and will not be brought back here.” Gavin paused for a second, looking at the computer screen. “I can't pull up the names of the people that you are paired with, but it's safe to say that you rode the bus on the way here with your group.”
“Fuck, looks like we're dealing with that Rachel bitch.” Alan groaned.
“Who?” Arlen smiled.
“This girl, she's all talk. She's just trying to intimidate us.” I replied calmly.
“Yeah, some people are like that. Then they actually have to deal with a blade, and they are clueless. Usually some of the first to die. But there are the rare ones where they actually do have something to brag about.” Arlen replied. “Well, we still have stuff to go over. Now, you two are going to need a weapon. There's a shop where you can have one made in the Courtyard. They can explain everything regarding weaponry there much better than I can.” Arlen laughed. “I just swing 'em around.”
“Any questions so far?” Gavin asked.
“Yeah, what do we do about food? I'm freaking starving.” Alan replied.
“Your parents didn't make you dinner?” I asked, slightly surprised.
“They did, I'm just hungry again.”
Gavin laughed. “They serve that nutritive jelly here. There's a module on the room's computer that lets you choose flavorings to add to it. Other than that, not much else. It's not the best, but it gets the job done.”
“Back on topic, we still need to cover training.” Arlen began. “There's a huge tower in the Courtyard, I'm sure you've noticed it. It's called the Blood Tower officially, but we just call it the Tower. The roof is where the fights take place. The lower floors are for preparing for a fight. They've got a lot of things, ranging from traditional equipment to recently invented stuff. The bottom floors have the traditional stuff, like grinding wheels for sharpening blades, and weight training equipment. The upper floors have some VR rooms. Really accurate simulators. Actually lets you feel the pain that you'd feel on the battlefield. They've also got some pretty good AI installed as well. Managed to kill me a few times.”
“Hm, that actually sounds kinda fun.” Alan said.
“There's something that always happens to everyone who says that. They find out what a sword to the face feels like. Hint: It's not pleasant.” Gavin said matter- of- factly. “Listen. I came here thinking that I was going to get out quickly and easily. Well-” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a very large scar running the length of his bicep. “This was from my first fight, three years ago. Needless to say, I surrendered because of this gash. Couldn't move my arm for weeks. You'll suffer the same fate if you don't start taking things seriously around here.”
“Hey, who said I wasn't taking this seriously? I know what a sword can do. I just like VR games, that's all.” Alan said defensively.
“Well, these are different. I can show you them, if you want. That's where I was going to go anyways. I think we have some old armor and swords lying around somewhere. Darren, you want to try it as well?” Arlen replied.
“I guess. It's not like I can avoid this forever.” I conceded.
“Great. Let's see if I've got any armor that fits you two. We should.” Arlen started walking towards the closet.
“They're gonna need some blades, too.” Gavin remarked, the slightest bitterness in his voice.
“Yeah, they can use our old ones. They should be sharp still.” Arlen answered, retrieving two metal sheets, bent to accommodate a person, with an inner lining of chainmail. “Here, try these on. They look like they should fit. You're still going to need some other stuff when you're done with that.”
I draped the metal over my shoulders, the smell of blood being very obvious, almost overwhelming.
“Yours is fitting pretty good.” Arlen remarked, quickly glancing at the armor. “Alan, how's yours fitting?”
“Pretty good, I guess.” Alan laughed softly. “Not sure how it's supposed to fit, though.”
“Well, it looks like both of you fit into those. The other stuff is just strapped on, so they shouldn't be a problem.” Arlen dug some more in the closet, quickly producing two sets of gloves, each with a large piece of metal attached to the wrist. I put one set on, the metal slightly restricting my movement. Then we were handed two longer strips of metal, with many leather straps attached to the back. There was a hinge in the middle, to allow our knees to bend. It was certainly harder to put these on, with the upper piece of armor restricting my movement.
“Now for the swords.” Arlen smiled, handing us both a sheath attached to a leather belt. We both put the belts on as Arlen retrieved the two blades. “Well, here they are. A little old, but they should do the trick in the VR rooms. Just one thing, the rules with blades is that they must be sheathed unless you are going to be using them for a fight.”
“Hey, Arlen. Shouldn't they go up to their rooms first?” Gavin's voice was slightly bitter.
“Eh, it's just a thirty minute video. Nothing completely essential at the moment.” Arlen dismissed, turning to Alan and I. “Well, shall we?”
My legs were weak, but I followed Arlen outside to the bustling courtyard. Alan, excited as ever, nearly got ahead of Arlen as we made our way to the central tower. Once we arrived inside the building, Arlen led us to a large wall, with several elevators. In contrast to the relatively boring and dull barracks, this building was extremely well- decorated. Just as we were about to board, an adult stopped us.
“So, are you two the fighters?” He asked, in German. Alan and I just looked at him, not knowing what to say.
“Non, je suis juste en leur montrant les salles de réalité virtuelle.” Arlen responded.
“Ah. Eh bien, vous ne connaissez Kyle Abernathy ou Dennis Teren, n'est-ce pas?” The man asked. My ears perked up at the mention of my brother's name.
“Wait, did you say Kyle Abernathy?” I asked frantically in German.
“Yes.” The man replied. “Why, do you know him?”
“Yes! He's my brother.” I replied, my voice bright.
“Well, he's late for his fight. Not much else I can tell you there. Now, please. Move along.”
Arlen led us onto one of the many elevators, a simple white circle in a glass tube.
Well, my brother was still alive after all. That was a small relief. Not that it would help me on the battlefield, but at least I knew he was alive.
The elevator door opened, revealing a very sterile- looking floor, quite a shock since the first floor was so nice.
“Well, here we are. The VR rooms. Shouldn't be too hard to find a room now. The green light on the doorknob means that it's free. Red means it's being used, and no light means that it's undergoing maintenance. Now the only thing you'll need to know is how to surrender if yo need to. Just drop your sword and put your hands over your head. The fight will stop immediately, and you will be brought out of the program. Also, a fair word of warning: you will feel pain. It is approximately what you'd feel out on the real battlefield. Just surrender if it gets to be too much for you. No shame in it. None of this is recorded, anyway. Good luck.” With that, Arlen entered a room.
“Well, good luck, dude.” Alan said, stealing away into another room.
I went into a nearby room. It was different than the VR that I had at my house, for sure, but I've played in a couple of these machines, so I knew my way around them. I put on the helmet provided and stepped onto the main control pad. However, instead of the usual sensation of weightlessness that came with playing in these machines, I felt nothing. Assuming it to be a glitch, I took off the helmet and put it back on. Just as the helmet was fully on my head, the world faded to black.
My most sincere apologies go to Mandarin and French speakers. My knowledge of both languages is rather limited.
_________________________________________________________________
Battle Cry
Prologue
February 16, 2237
TO THE PEOPLES OF THE WORLD:
As citizens of this planet, we must always remember that our resources are not unlimited. As a human species, we are outgrowing this planet, overtaxing her soil for food, and overtaxing her waters for drink. While recent advances in technology have slightly lessened our impact, nothing can lessen the cause of such burden on our planet: the constant growth of the human population. However, we, the Central Powers, hereby propose a solution, effective on March 14, 2237:
All young men and women from the age of fifteen until the age of twenty, will be under the custody of the Central Powers. There, they will participate in a “survival of the fittest”- type competition, one on one. Those who win ten fights (either by surrender or with the death of the opponent) will be set free. Those who are unable to win ten fights by their twentieth birthday will be executed.
Only those who will be fifteen on or after March 14, 2237 are affected by this decision. Compliance is necessary. All who resist will be executed where they stand.
With this solution in place, we expect the world population to be down to manageable levels by 2302. At that time, we will reevaluate this decision.
THE CENTRAL POWERS
Please note: This statement was translated into English for your convenience. The official languages of the Central Powers are Mandarin, French, and German. If you wish to contact your Central Powers Consulate, please communicate in either Mandarin, French, or German. For those lacking skills in any of those languages, translators and courses are available free of charge at the Consulate's office. Thank you for your cooperation!
Battle Cry
Part 1, Chapter 1
May 29, 2491
It was my fifteenth birthday, a day that I absolutely dreaded. The day I would be taken to those dreaded Battles. I knew very little about them, and my parents were forbidden to give me any advice or training for the event. The only thing I knew was that I had to fight, and win at least ten by my twentieth birthday. Winning in this case meant I either killed my opponent or they surrendered. Needless to say, I wasn't looking forward to this. I had barely finished my dinner Mom had prepared for me when the bus arrived at my house.
“Darren, the bus.” Mom called. Her voice seemed grim.
“Wait, I need to pack.” I called back, starting up the stairs to my room.
“No, they'll have everything you need there. Just please, when you're out there, don't do anything stupid. I want you back home.” Mom had said the same thing to Kyle, my brother, two years ago. He still hasn't come back, and the last thing we heard, he had won two fights by killing his opponent, one fight via surrender, and he had surrendered in four fights. That was two months after he had began his Battles.
The bus honked. It was one of those old buses: very dingy on the outside, and in fact it still had wheels. I wouldn't be surprised if it still ran on gas. I could even see a few bloodstains on the sides. I opened the front door and walked slowly out to the bus. I turned around and waved goodbye to my mom, who looked away. Once the bus door opened, the metallic smell of blood hit me like a brick wall.
“Vous êtes le seul à monter à cet arrêt?” The bus driver asked. I couldn't make any of it out, as I hadn't taken enough French to really say much more than my name.
“Je... non.... parler... le... française...” I stammered, gesturing as much as I could just in case the driver couldn't understand me.
“I said, are you the only one getting on here?” At least his German was good.
“I think so.” I replied. I worked my way to an empty seat in the back of the bus, which was completely empty.
“And what is your name?”
“Darren Abernathy.”
“Oh, and your French... it needs a lot of work. You said “I no to speak the male French woman.” It's supposed to be “Je ne parle pas français.” Just say that if one of the staff starts speaking French, got it?” The driver said as the bus started moving.
“Yeah, sure.” Great. So this potentially scarring event started out with a French lesson. There goes my hopes of ever learning French. I walked towards the back of the bus, sitting down in the back row of seats. Besides me and the driver, the bus was empty.
There was a silence until the bus stopped at my friend's house. We were born on the same day, and we even looked similar. Our parents even called us “the twins” because of this. After a few minutes of waiting, I saw my friend, Alan, step onto the bus. At least he got questioned in German.
“Hey, dude.” Alan said as if everything was completely normal.
“Hey.” I replied, equally nonchalant.
“So, you ready for this?”
“Eh, I guess. About as ready as I'll ever be.”
“Well, Kyle's doing well, right?” Even though we were best friends, we avoided this subject at all costs, just in case something happened.
“We haven't gotten anything back. Well, one report two months after he'd started. He had only won three fights.” I stated.
“And how many kills did he land?” Alan said, a smile forming on his face.
“Two. The other surrendered.”
“Heh. I want to get ten. It's more glorious that way, y'know?” This was the one thing that we never could agree on. Alan had some rather violent tendencies. We even acted out our own Battles when we were younger. He won every time, even sending me to the hospital with a broken arm once. That was part of the reason I dreaded this day so much. If I couldn't handle a stick flying at me, how would I be able to handle a sword?
“Well, I just want to get through. Glory aside, a win's a win.” I sighed. The bus lurched to another stop, this time letting on a girl. She sat next to us, with a smug grin on her face.
“Nǐ zhǔnbèi hǎo, wǒ shāle nǐ ma? Bùyào dǎ tā, nǐ zhīdào huì fāshēng shénme. Bié dānxīn, wǒ huì jìnlì
shǐ qí jǐn kěnéng wútòng. Méiyǒu chéngnuò.” The girl smiled as she turned around.
“Sorry, we don't understand Mandarin.” Alan said, in German.
“Wǒ bù zhīdào déguó.” The girl said.
“We don't understand Mandarin.” Alan repeated, this time in English.
“And I was saying I don't understand German.” The girl said, sounding almost offended. After a short silence, the girl glared at us, as if she was judging our fighting skills. Then she smiled smugly. “I'm Rachel Elliot. I suppose its nice to know the name of your killer, isn't it?”
“Who says you'll be killing us? I'd be willing to bet that the exact opposite is going to happen.” Alan said, his eyes narrowing. “And I guess you should know the name of your killer: Alan Matthews. It's a pleasure to meet you, Rachel.”
Rachel turned to face me. “And you? Your name?”
“Darren Abernathy.” I weakly said.
“Hm. Well, I look forward to fighting you. Just be ready to die.” Rachel turned around, looking out the window.
The bus came to another stop, this time letting on two people, a boy and a girl, obviously twins. They both sat across from Rachel.
“Nín hǎo, jiàn sìliào.” Rachel sneered.
“Wǒ xīwàng nǐ míngbái, wǒ jiǎng pǔtōnghuà.” The male twin said back with the same tone of voice.
“Ń, wǒ xiǎng zhè hěn hǎo. Huì bù huì dāng nǐ zài liúxuè de zhànchǎng shàng.” Rachel laughed back.
The two kept talking as Alan turned to the girl. “Hey, do you know what they are saying?”
“It's just smack talk.” She turned to her brother, nudging him. “Hey, save the talk for the Battles, alright?”
“Oh, I'm so very sorry.” Rachel sneered. “Well, as I told these two before, I am a civil person, and I wouldn't deny you the right to know your killer's name. It's Rachel Elliot.”
“Oh?” The girl grinned. “That's cute. However, I have a feeling I know who's going to be doing the killing.” The girl turned to me, smiling. “Sizing up your competition, huh? Notice any weak points yet?”
“W-What?” I stammered, surprised. “No! I wouldn't be surprised if I was the first to die out of all of us. I can't even win a play fight with sticks!”
Alan laughed. “It's true. I broke his arm once.”
“This is going to be easier than I thought.” Rachel laughed. “Poor guy. You won't last one fight.”
“Can we just stop talking about this? I just don't want to think about it until we get to the Battlegrounds.” I said frantically.
“Heh, well, it's going to be all you can think about for the next five years, might as well start now.” The boy said to me.
“Landon. Please. He doesn't want to think about this, alright?” The girl interjected.
“Michele, you don't know him. Besides, you might have to kill him later. Or he could kill you. Don't get attached.” The boy responded.
“I'm not getting attached, stupid. It's called being a decent human being.” Michele retorted.
The bus came to another stop, this time at a rather large gate.
“These are all the May twenty- ninths from Area six. No executions. No resistance. Seems to be a little rivalry going on though.” The driver called out the window. The gate slowly opened, revealing a courtyard, with several tall buildings scattered around a central tower. Each building looked like it was at least 40 stories tall, and the central tower looked to be at least one hundred stories tall.
The driver got out of his seat. “Welcome to the Battlegrounds.” The driver announced, repeating himself in Mandarin right afterward. “Head up to the computer and give it your name. Follow the directions from there.”
We all filed out of the bus, heading towards the computer, a thin pillar, with a very small screen.
“Please select your preferred language.” The voice said, in English. I touched the panel to select German.
“State your name.” The voice replied.
“Darren Abernathy.”
“Thank you.” The computer replied after a short pause. “Please take your identification card, printed below the screen. You will be housed in room number 332242, located in Barrack number three, on the thirty- second floor. You have one roommate, Alan Matthews, who has yet to arrive. Records indicate that he should be arriving shortly. Please wait for him. Good luck in your Battles!”
I took my ID card, a plain white card with an extremely long number printed on it. I waited for Alan to finish with the computer.
“Hey, man. Looks like we've got the same room.” Alan said. “Well, the computer said to go straight there. So do you know where Barrack three is?”
“Well, I suppose there would be signs for it somewhere.” I replied, looking around. Eventually I saw the sign for our building. We made our way to the building, entering it through large glass doors. The first floor was very plain: almost no decoration, and several doors lined each wall. The back wall had many elevator doors, as well as stairs.
“Hey, you two!” Someone called. We looked around, finding the source of the voice to be a young man, dressed in steel armor. He had a sword sheathed at his hip. “You're new here, aren't you?”
“Yeah, we just got here.” Alan replied.
“Ah. Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Arlen. I'm one of the head residents of Three.” The young man smiled.
“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked.
“Well, I was going to go train a little bit, but that can wait. My next fight isn't for a few days anyway. What floor do you live on?”
“Um, thirty- two.” I replied.
“Ah. Well, it just happens that I am one of the Head Residents on that floor. Let's get you two oriented. Follow me.” Arlen walked towards the elevators.
Alan stepped forward. “So, Arlen. Tell me, how many fights have you been in?”
“Twenty- eight.”
“And how have you not won ten yet?”
“Well, they've changed the rules. Surrenders don't count as wins anymore. Only kills count. So by these rules, I've won seven fights. By your rules, I've won nineteen. We'll cover the specifics later.”
We entered the elevator. Arlen scanned his card and the elevator started going up. Within a few seconds, the door opened on our floor. Arlen led the way to his room. He scanned his card again, and the door opened.
“Shit, that was fast.” A voice said, laughing.
“Well, I've got some fresh blood.” Arlen replied. He drew his sword, placing it into a slot in the wall. “What are you two waiting for? Come on in.”
Alan and I stepped into the room. It was rather small, but still could fit two people comfortably.
“Hey. So you guys are the new ones, eh? Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Gavin. Now, we need to get you guys settled in. Can I have your ID cards?”
Alan and I handed Gavin our cards. Gavin took them over to a computer, scanning them in.
“Alright. It says here that you two are starting your Survival in three days.” Gavin said.
“Huh? We have to fight in three days?” I asked in shock.
“No. This is different. They actually don't tell anyone about this part. You'll be put out in the woods in groups of six. All you need to do is survive for two weeks. However, if any of you die out there, the group will lose one chance to surrender. So if only five of you guys live, you can't surrender during a single fight. You'll be told which fight this applies to. You also need to stay in a group for the full two weeks. Any combatants that stray from the group will count as dead, and will not be brought back here.” Gavin paused for a second, looking at the computer screen. “I can't pull up the names of the people that you are paired with, but it's safe to say that you rode the bus on the way here with your group.”
“Fuck, looks like we're dealing with that Rachel bitch.” Alan groaned.
“Who?” Arlen smiled.
“This girl, she's all talk. She's just trying to intimidate us.” I replied calmly.
“Yeah, some people are like that. Then they actually have to deal with a blade, and they are clueless. Usually some of the first to die. But there are the rare ones where they actually do have something to brag about.” Arlen replied. “Well, we still have stuff to go over. Now, you two are going to need a weapon. There's a shop where you can have one made in the Courtyard. They can explain everything regarding weaponry there much better than I can.” Arlen laughed. “I just swing 'em around.”
“Any questions so far?” Gavin asked.
“Yeah, what do we do about food? I'm freaking starving.” Alan replied.
“Your parents didn't make you dinner?” I asked, slightly surprised.
“They did, I'm just hungry again.”
Gavin laughed. “They serve that nutritive jelly here. There's a module on the room's computer that lets you choose flavorings to add to it. Other than that, not much else. It's not the best, but it gets the job done.”
“Back on topic, we still need to cover training.” Arlen began. “There's a huge tower in the Courtyard, I'm sure you've noticed it. It's called the Blood Tower officially, but we just call it the Tower. The roof is where the fights take place. The lower floors are for preparing for a fight. They've got a lot of things, ranging from traditional equipment to recently invented stuff. The bottom floors have the traditional stuff, like grinding wheels for sharpening blades, and weight training equipment. The upper floors have some VR rooms. Really accurate simulators. Actually lets you feel the pain that you'd feel on the battlefield. They've also got some pretty good AI installed as well. Managed to kill me a few times.”
“Hm, that actually sounds kinda fun.” Alan said.
“There's something that always happens to everyone who says that. They find out what a sword to the face feels like. Hint: It's not pleasant.” Gavin said matter- of- factly. “Listen. I came here thinking that I was going to get out quickly and easily. Well-” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a very large scar running the length of his bicep. “This was from my first fight, three years ago. Needless to say, I surrendered because of this gash. Couldn't move my arm for weeks. You'll suffer the same fate if you don't start taking things seriously around here.”
“Hey, who said I wasn't taking this seriously? I know what a sword can do. I just like VR games, that's all.” Alan said defensively.
“Well, these are different. I can show you them, if you want. That's where I was going to go anyways. I think we have some old armor and swords lying around somewhere. Darren, you want to try it as well?” Arlen replied.
“I guess. It's not like I can avoid this forever.” I conceded.
“Great. Let's see if I've got any armor that fits you two. We should.” Arlen started walking towards the closet.
“They're gonna need some blades, too.” Gavin remarked, the slightest bitterness in his voice.
“Yeah, they can use our old ones. They should be sharp still.” Arlen answered, retrieving two metal sheets, bent to accommodate a person, with an inner lining of chainmail. “Here, try these on. They look like they should fit. You're still going to need some other stuff when you're done with that.”
I draped the metal over my shoulders, the smell of blood being very obvious, almost overwhelming.
“Yours is fitting pretty good.” Arlen remarked, quickly glancing at the armor. “Alan, how's yours fitting?”
“Pretty good, I guess.” Alan laughed softly. “Not sure how it's supposed to fit, though.”
“Well, it looks like both of you fit into those. The other stuff is just strapped on, so they shouldn't be a problem.” Arlen dug some more in the closet, quickly producing two sets of gloves, each with a large piece of metal attached to the wrist. I put one set on, the metal slightly restricting my movement. Then we were handed two longer strips of metal, with many leather straps attached to the back. There was a hinge in the middle, to allow our knees to bend. It was certainly harder to put these on, with the upper piece of armor restricting my movement.
“Now for the swords.” Arlen smiled, handing us both a sheath attached to a leather belt. We both put the belts on as Arlen retrieved the two blades. “Well, here they are. A little old, but they should do the trick in the VR rooms. Just one thing, the rules with blades is that they must be sheathed unless you are going to be using them for a fight.”
“Hey, Arlen. Shouldn't they go up to their rooms first?” Gavin's voice was slightly bitter.
“Eh, it's just a thirty minute video. Nothing completely essential at the moment.” Arlen dismissed, turning to Alan and I. “Well, shall we?”
My legs were weak, but I followed Arlen outside to the bustling courtyard. Alan, excited as ever, nearly got ahead of Arlen as we made our way to the central tower. Once we arrived inside the building, Arlen led us to a large wall, with several elevators. In contrast to the relatively boring and dull barracks, this building was extremely well- decorated. Just as we were about to board, an adult stopped us.
“So, are you two the fighters?” He asked, in German. Alan and I just looked at him, not knowing what to say.
“Non, je suis juste en leur montrant les salles de réalité virtuelle.” Arlen responded.
“Ah. Eh bien, vous ne connaissez Kyle Abernathy ou Dennis Teren, n'est-ce pas?” The man asked. My ears perked up at the mention of my brother's name.
“Wait, did you say Kyle Abernathy?” I asked frantically in German.
“Yes.” The man replied. “Why, do you know him?”
“Yes! He's my brother.” I replied, my voice bright.
“Well, he's late for his fight. Not much else I can tell you there. Now, please. Move along.”
Arlen led us onto one of the many elevators, a simple white circle in a glass tube.
Well, my brother was still alive after all. That was a small relief. Not that it would help me on the battlefield, but at least I knew he was alive.
The elevator door opened, revealing a very sterile- looking floor, quite a shock since the first floor was so nice.
“Well, here we are. The VR rooms. Shouldn't be too hard to find a room now. The green light on the doorknob means that it's free. Red means it's being used, and no light means that it's undergoing maintenance. Now the only thing you'll need to know is how to surrender if yo need to. Just drop your sword and put your hands over your head. The fight will stop immediately, and you will be brought out of the program. Also, a fair word of warning: you will feel pain. It is approximately what you'd feel out on the real battlefield. Just surrender if it gets to be too much for you. No shame in it. None of this is recorded, anyway. Good luck.” With that, Arlen entered a room.
“Well, good luck, dude.” Alan said, stealing away into another room.
I went into a nearby room. It was different than the VR that I had at my house, for sure, but I've played in a couple of these machines, so I knew my way around them. I put on the helmet provided and stepped onto the main control pad. However, instead of the usual sensation of weightlessness that came with playing in these machines, I felt nothing. Assuming it to be a glitch, I took off the helmet and put it back on. Just as the helmet was fully on my head, the world faded to black.
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