4
ALBY
As nice as it looks, there isn’t much to comment on as we move through the halls inside. It’s just glossy black taalk. Everywhere.
And Avri.
Bright red Avri.
But if I think too hard about the blood-coloured energy decorating the walls and ceilings around me in long strips and square outlines, I’m afraid I’ll puke my guts up.
So it’s better to just focus on the green embellishments instead and hope I can block everything else out.
Maybe then I can pretend I’m still in EvTS 246.
I never thought I’d wish to be back in that place once I got out, but I honestly think it’s the better option between here and there. At least with the training school, I knew the danger, was prepared for every attack launched my way by Aider and Troy. But here, everything is unfamiliar.
I have no idea the threats that could be lurking around every corner.
“We do not have time for a proper tour today, unfortunately,” the Neutral woman informs us from the front of our group, her lilting voice carrying through the vast empty stretch of hall before us.
“Luckily, you do not need one when you’ll be escorted from room to room today.
” She glances over her shoulder at us with a look that’s somehow both pleasant and pointed.
“Tomorrow, you will be given a more in-depth tour. But for now, I’ll take you straight to the Training Centre, where the rest of the Evots are already mingling.
You can have a look at some of the rooms in there if you’d like. ”
Dex’s blond brows furrow. “We’re the last here?”
“Yes. The other five Players from Evot Training School 246 are here as well; they arrived just ten minutes before you.”
“Are we late?” This comes from Charlotte, the nerves in her voice unmistakable.
Turning right as we reach the end of the hall, the woman answers, “No, so don’t worry. There is still a little over an hour until the live recording begins. The first groups began arriving only an hour ago.”
My stomach twists.
I really hate being the last to arrive places; all the attention is brought to you.
As we keep walking, I see that the hall branches off to the left and right further down, a wall approaching directly opposite us. On that wall is the letters spelling out TRAINING CENTRE above a set of double doors, the colour-leached taalk I can tell they’re made of allowing me to see . . .
Oh, fuck. There’s so many people in there.
My breaths become short and sharp, a tingling sensation making my limbs feel airy and weak in an instant. Somehow, I keep moving forwards, but I won’t be for long if the black splotches taking over my vision are any indication.
I think it’s obvious I have social anxiety, and I don’t need to be diagnosed to realise that. But I could swear it’s never been like this before.
Maybe this panic has more to do with the fact I’m about to die in a week’s time.
“What about our Player numbers?” Jodine asks.
The Neutral doesn’t look back as she replies, “You have already been allocated those. You’ll find them out later when the testing begins. They will also be your room numbers and on your Avri suits once they are updated.”
“Do we get to redesign them? My eleven-year-old self didn’t understand the word ‘fashionable’ when I chose two squares to outline my tits. I mean, why would they let me do that?”
Dex snorts.
A twitch of the Neutral’s lips gives away her amusement, even as she remains mostly characterless when she glances over at Jodine. “If you wish.”
Reaching the doors, they open automatically, and she turns to face us. “This is where I leave you. Good luck on your live tests.” With a placid smile, she’s gone before anyone can ask another question.
Leaving us to deal with the forty-five pairs of curious eyes now pointed our way.
***
Like every other surface I’ve seen so far, the walls and flooring in the Training Centre are pure black taalk, with tastefully placed Avri in the Evot and Exot colours reflecting off its glinting faces.
Not that I can focus very well on that or my other surroundings as I stand off to the side of the room like an absolute lemon.
Charlotte, Dex, Mavry, and Jodine have gone off to mix with and meet other Evots, and even though I wasn’t close to them by any means, I’d felt a slight sense of camaraderie with them: Coming from the same school as them and seeing their raw reactions that weren’t too dissimilar from mine throughout the past hour had given me some comfort.
It was reassuring to see that it wasn’t just me feeling overwhelmed by everything.
But now I’m all alone. Like always.
At least after the initial curiosity shown by the room when I first walked in, it quickly left when they realised I wasn’t anyone of interest. It’s left me relieved, but also with that familiar sadness and disappointment that I don’t know what to do with.
Slowly inhaling a trembling breath, I let it out at the same pace, trying to force myself to relax.
I need to familiarise myself with this place if I’m going to be training here for the next week.
Just because my death seems inevitable, it doesn’t mean I should sit around doing nothing. I have to at least try.
Steeling myself, I inch my way to the left to get a better view of the huge hexagon in the middle of the room.
A lot of the Evots have evidently taking a liking to it by the way so many of them are surrounding it and chattering excitedly, and a gap in the crowd allows me to see inside the shape to where a leggy blonde is moving around skilfully; her hair whips out around her as she destroys bright orange opponents shaped like men, and I openly gape at the display, both because we haven’t got our helmets back from our luggage yet and that room doesn’t look safe to use without one, and also because of her impressive moves.
Evot Training School never had anything like this.
I take it all in with wide eyes, amazed as the girl’s booted foot slams into one of the figures featureless heads, connecting with a force that sends the Avri man sprawling.
And it must be Avri, because nothing else can do what that energy can: it can be heavy or weightless, tiny or mammoth, fatal or healing enough to save a dying man.
All of that, and yet it does nothing against mental illness.
A ring of a bell catches my attention, and I twist around, trying to locate the source of the sound.
Behind me, there’s a wall that ends on a right angle to introduce another area in the Training Centre that merges into the main space seamlessly.
Easing around the corner, my head tips back to see the high ceiling and the top of one of six thick ropes, the bell that’s just been pulled hanging beside it, swaying gently.
The man up there looks around the same age as me, with messy brown hair a few shades lighter than my own ebony strands, skin tanned but on the fairer side, and a lean form, the muscles in his arms and legs flexing as he climbs back down the extensive length of rope.
The closer he gets to the ground, the more obvious it becomes that he’s on his own, unlike many of the Evots who’ve branched off into small groups, and if I weren’t such a wimp, maybe I’d go over there and try to get to know him.
Or maybe I wouldn’t. Because when he hops down onto the mat at the bottom with a soft thump and his chin lifts to lock dark eyes onto mine, the look in them tells me exactly why he is alone.
I hastily avert my gaze, scanning over the multiple thick black mats that pairs are sparring on to his left and catching a glimpse of a row of treadmills at the back wall, before spinning back around and into the vast area containing the see-through hexagon, which I now realise is called the Simulation Hexagon since some of the crowd has dispersed to check out more of the place, leaving me with a better view of the control panel.
It seems to have different levels and times, but I can’t make out the smaller writing from here too well.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I anxiously rake my eyes over the Training Centre to see what else I can have a look at, pausing on the line of smaller rooms to my left that span all the way from one wall to the other at the back of the room.
I’m guessing they’re private rooms for more intimate training as many of the closed doors have luminous bold lettering on them claiming they’re occupied.
Heading over, I notice one of the doors isn’t fully closed but seems to be in use, and I chance a peek inside, too curious not to.
Hopefully whoever’s in there doesn’t see me standing here like a creep and decide to bash my face in.
My eyes flicker over the two forms I find moving in a blur, laughing and taunting each other, their sparring more like a well-practiced dance than any sort of battle.
Both are blond, but the one who appears slightly older and has a couple inches on the other has a darker shade on his head, with a few lighter strands streaked through his neat cut.
The shorter one, who looks about the same height as me, has brighter and longer hair and is kind of giving me surfer-boy vibes like those guys in adverts with the beach waves he’s sporting.
The deep emerald Avri on their suits almost matches exactly, but the taller man on the left’s seems a smidge darker.
It’s clear their Scores are in the early 80s—extremely impressive, unlike my ghastly Score of 57.
“Come on, big boy,” the one on the right coos, his face split into a wide grin. His eyes dance with humour as he bops about on his feet and curls four fingers into his palms in a come-hither gesture.
The taller one scoffs and shakes his head. “How about you get your ass over here and stop prancing around, Tiger.”
“I am not prancing!”
“Whatever you say, brother—you dance around an Exot like this in the Games, and you’ll lose your entire percentage before you can regenerate more than a fingernail.”
Tiger gasps dramatically, slapping a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m much too advanced for that.”