Page 11 of Failed State

“Media, I think,” Huck drawls as he leans back. “They got that slicker’n greased owl shit look about them. Taterman must be paying some idiots a small fortune to brand and package us like fucking action figures.”

Sydney scoffs, tucking her legs up so she’s sitting criss-cross on the bench. “I knew this was going to be a damn circus. We’re all the trained seals and shit.”

Suddenly, the lights in the gym go out and the doors audibly close. Syd sucks in a sharp breath, and I switch to my animal’s vision so I can see what’s going on. I don’t like the sudden pitch blackness, either, but at least she’s safely between Huck and me. “Stay calm.”

“Easy for you to say, big guy,” she mutters.

A spotlight turns on, illuminating the two strangers and Dean Brickman as they stand proudly in the center of the floor. Brickman is dressed in some ridiculous get-up like humans wear to horse races with a giant hat. It makes her look even dumber next to the city-slick visitors, but I’ve never gotten the feeling this woman has a clue about anything, the least of which is fashion.

“Good afternoon, lucky students of F.E.A.R. Academy! Tempest Seven ishonoredto be hosting one of six trials our competitors will be challenged to complete. Each trial will test strength, intelligence, skill, and teamwork in ways you have never imagined. Only winners will progress to the next challenge—those who are unable to complete their trials will be handled in their home sectors.”

Syd takes my hand, drawing a skull on it with her finger, and I shrug. It would be a lot of supes to kill off at once, but maybe the spectacle of this stupid farce is to hide the humans’ newest genocide. It wouldn’t be the first time in the history of this world, nor will it be the last.

Not thrilled to be part of this many world altering events in my formative years, but what can I do?

Brickman claps her hands, beaming brightly, and I realize the single spotlight in the dark isn’t just for effect. The government is probably streaming these performances to the surrounding human territories and cities—they can’t risk catching the expressions of fear, horror, and anger on the facesof the supernatural youth in the schools. It might go viral and re-start the rest of the world’s concern about our treatment.

“Without further ado, I want to introduce theesteemedTempest SevenSupernatural United Challenge of Endurance’s Head Coordinators, Melinda Turner-Grant and Pat Bates. They will assist us with matching the unpaired teams, getting our contestants in fighting trim, as well as make certain we give everything we have to offer to our country and our President.”

The fake tanned man and woman wearing expensive enough clothing to feed a family in the sector for two years step into the middle of the stage. Bright white veneers reflect the light and for a second, I almost have to block my view. It’s clear these two humans have never done a single day’s work in their entire lives and likely won’t ever have to. They look like wax figures that have been animated for a theme park; that’s how plastic and unreal their appearances are.

I mean, if that’s what you want, whatever—but it’s not going to convince the crowd in this gym that they’re on our side for a millisecond.

TROUBLE IN RIVER CITY

SYDNEY

The fake asspeople Brickman just introduced remind me of animals that look cute and friendly, but are actually plotting how to kill you from the moment they lay eyes on you. I suppose that’s accurate—no one here believes these games are about giving anyone freedom. No, this is about making money off of the base instincts of humans worldwide wanting to watch us kill each other for sport. Anyone who takes a job ‘coordinating’ that shit has the moral compass of a great white—existing to do nothing but consume everything in their path.

I’m far too poetic for this early in the morning; what the fuck is with me?

“I reckon these city folk are going to shovel a whole lot of bullshit, then try to make us eat it with a smile,” Huck murmurs. “Listen closely, friends. I smell magic in the air and I don’t fucking cotton to it.”

My brow furrows as I lean closer to him, whispering near his ear. “You think they’re forcing witches or other supes to infuse their tech with compulsion magic? Like, to get us all to agree to their madness on camera?”

Huck shrugs and I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Even dampened, he’s better at ducking that kind of shit than Thad and me. He’s a shifter and I’m… mostly unknown… so we don’t have the ability to block mind tricks as well as him. “Just fucking great. The witches are so easily bought. Being so close to humans makes them believe they’ll be accepted some day.”

“Not you, sweet pea. You know that a bull without horns is still smart. The rest of ‘em are useless as chicken shit on a pump handle.”

Thad groans and looks over at us. “Are you just going to getmoreannoying with these people here? ‘Cause that was almost unintelligible, man.”

I duck my head, smiling a little. “I knew what he meant. I’m smart enough to realize that the Markers don’t take away all the things that make me powerful while the other witches are dumb. Right, cowboy?”

The demon reaches up and tips his hat a little as he winks at me. “Beautiful and brilliant as always Sydney.”

My elbow finds his ribs and he has to cover his yelp so we don’t draw attention. “Translating your shit doesn’t mean I’m going to let you flirt with me, idiot.”

“You wound me, sweet pea, both physically and emotionally,” he says dramatically. “But I’ll never give up, so be prepared.”

Ugh. Men are so fucking incapable of comprehending reality.

“Thad, what did your uncle say last night?”

The bear shakes his head, pointing at the stage. “Not now. They're finally going to talk finally.”

My gaze moves to the plastic people in their designer outfits and expensive shoes. The woman Brickman called Melinda is built sturdily for a human with dark, glittering eyes that lackemotion. She smiles broadly before she speaks, but there’s not an ounce of emotion in it. “Good morning, F.E.A.R. Academy!”

Silence descends on the room and the smile falters for a brief second before Brickman gestures behind the two coordinator’s backs. It takes a moment, but a low rumble that repeats the greeting echoes in the gym. Melinda’s lip twitches on the projection screen behind them, but she goes on. “Pat and I are here to get you all ready for the biggest event of your young lives. We each have detailed plans for both the boys and the girls that will guide you through the preparations your teams must make for the competition. But first, we must balance the scales, as they say.”

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