Page 13 of Failed State

“That’s why I never underestimate this shit,” the demon says. “I visited friends in low places last night just to see if I could get the scoop on what kind of shit they’re doing to bring these people in for this.”

Turning to look up at him, I groan. “Huck, spill it or let me focus on not puking. No third option.”

“Dude, you never said?—”

“Shhh,” Huck says to the bear before continuing. “I went to see Angus. The grimy little shit had to lose half his damn take for the night before his tongue loosened, but I got a wee bit. The humans used the rail lines to cargo in over a hundred supes, some in goddamn cages, a week ago. They built them housing just outside the borders of Tempest and not a peep has come from that camp since they arrived. They’ve got a barrier around it.”

I lift up, my body suddenly stiffening. “Cages, Huck?”

“Yep. Seems like some of the teams will be getting lockdown losers to fill their ranks.”

“Are you kidding me? Isn’t that dangerous?” I hiss.

The fear demon smirks. “I highly doubt they give a fuck about our well-being, sweet pea. Using the powerful, crazy, and criminal makes for good TV.”

Raking my hands over my hair, my mind races with the possibilities. Using lockdown species means we could get a vast number of supe types that I’ve never seen, much less know how to work with. A look at Thad tells me he’s more than a little worried as well. We’ve both been here since the beginning and grew up within a hundred miles of Tempest unlike Huck.

“So we’re forcibly entered in bullshit death matches for the world to watch while the humans rake in cash and we might have teammates who want to kill us? That sum it up?”

Unfortunately, our friend doesn’t get the chance to answer because our row is called down to the table and we have to face the music.

Nothing in this world has been right since that stupid virus; I don’t know why I expected this to be any different.

LOSERS LIKE ME

HUCKLEBERRY

When they gesturefor our group to approach, I flank Sydney’s left side while Thad takes the right. The drugged looking supes at the table we’re sent to are older students. The female wolf looks up at me with dull eyes as she asks for our names and I wince. Based on the bruises I can see, she must be one of the fillies who trades ‘favors’ for perks.

I suppose I’d need to be blitzed out of my noggin, too.

“Sydney Jolie, Thaddeus Calvin, and Huckleberry Monroe,” she says. Her voice is confident, despite the fear I’m practically licking off of her. “We have a bear, a fear demon, and unknown magic.”

The wolf girl nods robotically, taking three clipboards from the equally zoned out eagle shifters sitting next to her. That guy has a nicer uniform, makeup, and less marks where they could be seen. His sugar human has money and wants the merchandise to look appealing from the outside. It says woman to me, but that kind of preference got much more flexible after the camps.

“Take these. Fill them out. No lies or the form will know. All deception will result in punishment.”

I frown as I take mine, walking with my friends to the chairs against the wall the wolf pointed out. They’re using a fuck ton of magic users for this damn sideshow. Usually, the humans stay away from supes unless they’re getting something they need. As I fill out the stupid information, I wonder how many supes they’ve bought off or enchanted to make the games happen.

That feels like an important piece of intel and I’m going to find the people I need to get it.

“Huck, why thefuckdo they want to know this?” Sydney points to a question on her form and panic fills me.

If she lies, the form will know—supposedly. But I’m not at all comfortable with these dickheads knowing how her fertility cycle runs. My eyes drift to Thad’s and his eyes widen when he sees where she’s pointing. We communicate our fears silently, and I ponder the situation for a moment.

“Put a date but set it way back. It’s truthful, but if you don’t say why it’s that far back, it might not trigger the spell,” I finally say. Picking at the wording is a Fae trick and I have no idea who created these things.

Hell, they could be normal paper and I might not know because of the fucking Markers.

“Skirt the truth because it’s none of their fucking business. Got it,” Syd mumbles as she continues working on the questions.

Relief floods me as I scribble a bunch of shit on my own, finishing it quickly so I can watch our girl. I know the bear is doing the same because this shit just got very real. Deathmatch games have no goddamn use for information on fertility unless they’re trafficking losers or… I don’t want to imagine what else they might have planned. Angus’ description of the ‘new student’ camp didn’t fill me with hope that we’ll get teammates who are trustworthy.

In fact, it made me worry about Syd and Thad even more. Tempest Seven doesn’t have a huge criminal element—not likethe bigger camps on the coasts and borders. They’re not used to the darkest parts of Taterman’s takeover and I’d like to allow them to keep their innocence in regards to the depravity. These Games may prevent that, though, especially with the species they’ve brought in.

“Are you done?” Sydney asks as her pen hovers on the page. “I want to go back together.”

Thad nods, rising to his feet and holding his hand out to her. “C’mon, Vicious. We’ve got music to face.”

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