Page 10 of Failed State

Today is goingto be pretty fucking interesting. Not only do we have an influx of new ‘students’ being shipped in, but they’re going to pair up those who don’t have a full six person team. That’s purely to screw with anyone stuck here solo or from an unusual species—no getting around it. Magic users and wolves are plentiful enough to have multiple pre-filled teams; it’s obvious the ‘wise’ overlords think those more common groups will advance quickly because they have packs or magical bonds to help their teams successfully work together.

Unfortunately for them, shifter strengths don’t work the way their human shit portrays us, especially with the Markers.

“Do you think they’ll do it randomly or…?” Sydney asks as we ascend the front steps of F.E.A.R. Academy. “I don’t know which way is better, honestly.”

Huck snorts as he pulls the door open for her. “Mixing us up with folks who aren’t well-matched and don’t get along makes for good TV, I’d reckon. Making scratch off our performance is their aim—that way, that Dorito-colored tub o’ lard can have another solid platinum outhouse.”

My lips quirk. He’s not wrong in the slightest. Taterman is damn near an avatar of greed and sloth, filling the former stately mansions of human government with tacky overpriced shit that only the newly rich would even look at. He declared many cultural masterpieces as traitorous filth done by secret supernaturals leeching off America’s unknowing generosity of spirit. That meant every priceless artwork and historically valuable item he could get his grubby hands on went into ‘top secret storage’ so it wouldn’t influence younger generations of ‘true Americans’.

I’m pretty sure if this country ever digs out of this hole, history will find he stole it all to enrich himself.

“Taterman’s a con man, pure and simple, and people here fall for it every time. Remember the human who enslaved all those shifters with the help of mages? He called supes freaks and abused all the shifter performers, but he got a catchy musical and movie made about him. They’re so damn gullible; it’s frightening.”

Syd sighs as we head down the hallway, following the signs that point toward the gymnasium. “Yeah, I figured as much. We should expect our additions to be dead weight or assholes. They want to make sure people the world over are tuning into our demise, thanking their stars they don’t live in this hellhole.”

With that grim truth, we get in the line at the entrance to the athletic center. It’s full of nervous looking supes from nineteen to twenty-three either chatting in formed groups or burning off their anxiety about not having one. Nothing about this process bodes well for the rest of the day and I watch as Sydney rubs her palm over the hidden blade in the seam of her pants. It’s carbon fiber, so it passes the wanding and magical inspection—nothing like human ingenuity to thwart their own systems. Huck and I have matching ones stowed in our spots that the eldest bear female in my sleuth crafted for me.

Feels like it wasn’t so paranoid now.

“You,” Wicker spits, pointing at Sydney as we get near the front. “You’re next.”

I’m about to fire back a retort when Huck steps in front of us both, the energy in his frame dark. “Oh, no, sugar. You’ve got that backwards. I’m next… that is, after you account for the ten people standing in front of our little club.”

The female guard across from Wicker—Baxter, I think—narrows her eyes as she looks between us, then barks, “You know the rules, Travis. No cutting the line. Take that group of six wand lickers.”

My relieved breath comes out in a whoosh as I jerk my chin at the woman gratefully. I think she understood what was happening and for whatever reason, decided it wasn’t going on while she was present. Humans don’t often give a fuck about supes being abused; Taterman’s convinced them we’re lower than household pets in terms of worth. But this one was okay, and I’ll keep that in mind for later. I owe her a small debt and I’m sure I’ll find a way to repay it.

“That motherfucker is begging to be castrated with a rusty spork,” Sydney grumbles as we move towards the female. “One of these days, I’m going to be the one to show him the error of his ways.”

“I’d pay the Devil his due to watch that, sweet pea,” Huck chuckles as he gives her a little push toward Baxter to make certain she doesn’t get yanked to another guard. Sydney rolls her eyes at him and I make a face.

I wish she’d stop pretending she hates him. Huck is more our friend than any other supe in the sector.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll extend my special treatment to your soft bits,” she says. Her wink is saucy as she holds her arms up and lets the lady run the wand over her slowly from head to toe. You’d never know the girl’s packing a secret weaponor that she's nervous as hell about this shit if you were human. Huck and I can smell and sense it, but these unevolved dipshits can’t see a damn thing even when it’s right in front of their noses.

The fear demon just tips his cowboy hat back a bit and hooks his fingers into his belt loops as he watches her get checked and waved to the doorway. I step up next, running through the process, and then Huck goes, flirting with Baxter the entire time. I consider that maybe he’s banging the human and that’s why she intervened, but that thought flies away before it fully forms.

Huck hasn’t bragged about a conquest once since I introduced him to Sydney.

She doesn’t know it, but I think he’s almost as besotted with the mystery supe girl as I am. He’s no better at getting her to pay attention to his advances than I am, though he is more obvious about it. Syd’s just so fucking damaged by all the shit that happened since the The Unveiling that she’s locked herself down to keep from getting hurt again.

Yeah, I signed on for that even though I sensed it the first time I met her; I’m a fool.

Baxter finishes scanning me and moves onto Huck, then we join Sydney where she’s standing in the doorway looking around the gym shrewdly. I know the wheels in her head are clicking in rapid succession; the girl can break down a situation faster than anyone I’ve ever known. She’s studying the gathered students as if she’s assessing a battlefield. I nudge her elbow, tilting my head towards the bleachers.

“Time to go in,” I murmur. She nods, then strides across the floor without a word. Huck and I follow, but no one thinks we’re in charge of this little cadre—they can’t. The blond ahead of us has the air of confidence I know she doesn’t feel, practically emanating from her pores. It’s an act meant to fool any established groups into thinking we’re a threat, but it’s agood one. She drops onto a bench at the far edge of the room, wrinkling her nose when it’s in the first row.

“I hate being this close to their bullshit,” she mutters as Huck takes the aisle and I sit on her other side. “It feels dirty.”

“That’s because these assholes are meaner than polecats, sweet pea. They just put on pretty faces when the right moment comes.” Huck cuts his gaze to the cameras mounted on the ceiling then to the huge projection screen they lowered from the ceiling. “And this is part of their highlight reel, I’d wager.”

I look around, noting the teachers and staff are dressed better than normal and there are decorations placed around the gym to make the atmosphere seem festive. Two slick looking humans that must be in charge of… fuck, something important by the look of them… are walking around pointing to things the maintenance crew are fiddling with. I don’t see the Dean, but anyone special is here, she’s likely sucking their asses in private.

Supes are always a stepping stone to something bigger for these people; nothing is done out of the goodness of their hearts.

“Who are the fancy fuckers?” Syd says as she leans into me.

I close my eyes for a moment, inhaling her scent. She’d tell you that she stinks of poverty and cheap supplies, but she doesn’t. There’s an underlying scent of jasmine and rose that always clings to her, no matter how gross we get. Calm washes over me and I finally answer her. “No idea. Maybe they’re people in charge of this damn project? But they look too soft to be running death matches.”

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