Page 25 of Failed State

I’m not sure how I feel about that, but then, I’m persona non-grata, anyway.

After an annoying speech about the building, the rules, and every other bullshit thing the guides could think of, they finally herded us into the front doors. Admittedly, I wondered if we’d get inside and it’d be some cardboard-looking IKEA nightmare slapped together with wood glue. My eyes rove over the much less upsetting atmosphere of the lobby, taking in the comfortable looking public spaces in the sunlit foyer.

No one will use them, but it doesn’t look like shit so far, which is good.

My point is made when Krista takes over the tour, babbling about the ‘shared’ spaces on every floor for competitors to engage with the others on their floor. Teams look at one another suspiciously when she finishes, gazes narrowing and shoulders hunching as they scowl. Putting all these frustrated, desperate people in a race for a better life was never going to encourage friendly mingling. If nothing else, those stupid spaces willbecome prime real estate for teams to plant nasty surprises for one another if they can muster them.

“And now your coordinator will take your team downstairs in the elevator to the training basement. Everyone, stay with your team and make sure to catch the car you belong to.”

Rubbing my temples in overstimulation, I move as close to the others as I can without feeling unsafe or worse, germ-infested. Damn neareverythingabout this day is triggering my issues and despite my amusement at the girl’s indignation and naivete, my control is waning as it drags on. I need to get somewhere quiet, unbreachable, and clean pretty soon. Otherwise, I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do.

“Why the fuck does it matter how we get into an elevator?” Sydney grumbles to the bear.

He shrugs, his focus on the flirty mage. That idiot is beyond in love with the unemerged woman and he’s terrified by the additions to their tiny clique. “No idea.”

“A small enclosed space without monitoring would be an ideal place to take out players before the games begin.”

I arch a brow, impressed by the dragon’s quick and accurate response. He’s moving around the group in what he probably thinks is a random pattern, but I can tell it’s not. It appears the stoic looking criminal has problems staying still for long periods. I wince when I realize he’s been somewhere where he’s locked down much of the time and might have traveled a long distance in that ridiculous serial killer cage. It had to be absolute torture based on his size and the hyperactivity he’s trying to mask.

The brash mage claps him on the shoulder, earning him an even darker scowl. “Don’t be shirty, man. I’m congratulating you on an excellent observation.”

“I don’t need your praise, spell sucker. Unlike you, I’m comfortable with my assessment of myself.”

Ouch. Talk about an arrow to the knee—Elias is brutal.

Normally, I’d find that fairly appealing. Supes who aren’t cheery fools, idealistic rubes, or ass-kissing whores are few and far between in El Dorado One. Finding anyone who can keep up with my brain and my wit is a serious plus in my book. Unfortunately, I’m separated from the rest of them by more than physical distance. I’m one of the bad guys—as far as they know—and my opinions won’t be appreciated.

“Team…” The perky woman frowns as she looks at us. “We definitely need a team name. That will help immensely with branding you. For now, let’s get moving… shoo!”

Sydney rolls her eyes, but follows the demon into the carriage, and the bear immediately boxes her in. The mage and the dragon go next and finally, I have to enter the tight space full of people who hate me. My eyes dart between the others and the walls of the damn elevator, trying to decide which one is worse to touch. Krista doesn’t notice, she keeps babbling about the center we’re headed underground to visit.

I couldn’t give less fucks about the subterranean gym and pool they have for the teams to get ready for the Games in.

“Are you people fuckingkiddingme with this shit?!”

My lips quirk as I look up at the ceiling. Sydney definitely cares about this luxury, and I doubt it will be the last thing we see that sets off her fiery temper. Even if she’s not jaded enough to take on most of the people she’ll need to in the Games, her temper and her spirit are a force of their own. It’s a shame this competition is going to beat that moral compass out of her, but I’m also interested to see what happens when the crusader goes dark.

I enjoy seeing pretty things turn deadly; it’s a vampire thing.

“Syd, they’re modeling this after… like athletes. Remember the Olympics?”

The bear is trying to reason with her, but even I realize bringing up the past isn’t the way to calm Sydney down. She gives him an angry huff before replying, “It’s only been four fucking years, not a century, Thad. Of course I remember the goddamn Olympics.”

“He’s trying to say the Games are like that, sweet pea. They have to give us places to train up.”

She elbows the demon and the other three guys snicker. “All of you shut the hell up. I understand the concept of elite games and training. I’m fucking furious they’ve spent all this money to do this here and fuck knows how many other sectors all for the amusement of humans around the world. There are people in this damn town barely surviving and it’s a fucking travesty.”

Spinning away from the group, she hunches into the corner diagonal from the one I’m plastered into. I can tell by the miniscule movements it takes vampiric eyes to see that she’s struggling not to cry. Tilting my head, I watch quietly, wondering how it would feel to bethatcompassionate all the time. I don’t think I could handle it, but obviously, she was raised this way before the Sweeps.

Krista clears her throat when the elevator dings, pasting on a fake smile as she pretends the whole thing didn’t happen. “Okay, team. This is the gym. It has all the modern conveniences and there will be specific trainers and staff assigned to monitor each team during their time here…”

Everyone shuffles out, and I watch Sydney take a deep, shuddering breath before she turns to face the exit.

“What are you looking at, asshole?” she growls as she stomps past me into the room I know I’ll dread daily.

To be truthful, I’m not exactly sure—and I don’t know if I want to find out.

A LITTLE TRUTH GOES A LONG WAY

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