37. Lois
Lois
“Tell me what the fuck I’m looking at right now!” I demand.
The two Xavianns blink and bluster at me, their words all a jumble.
“The Capital seems to be using a hologram of you in their gameplay,” Zek says beside me. “Likely to throw Prince Az off, and take advantage of his broken focus.”
“But-” I stutter. “I never gave my Permission to anyone?! How are they doing this?”
“Looks like Capital is bringing a brand new tactic into play,” one of the commentators says. “And this really is an interesting one, to say the least!”
The biggest screen zooms in on Pax, the Arena Master for the Capital’s team… and the guy Az and I had trusted to go snooping around in DJ, my personal comms.
“Can they use a stolen Permission like that? Is that a legal move?”
“Uh, well,” one of the workers starts, while his colleague goes back to his work.
“Arena Masters are allowed to conjure aspects into play that their opponents would find challenging. Including personal fears, insecurities, or shortcomings.” He chuckles.
“That’s why everyone who faces the team from the landlocked principality from the Lowerlands always tends to include lots of water. ”
I blink back at him, waiting for the guy to actually answer my fucking question.
Instead, he goes on to explain, “They’re all bad swimmers, you see, so it would be an advantage to build a terrain where-”
“I get it!” I snap.
The other worker swings his chair around and starts to add to the conversation, “Actually, they’ve invested in a lot of swim training lately, and-”
He must see just how close I am to going ballistic and breaking off his horns, because the guy comes to a halt mid-sentence and slowly, silently, turns his chair right back around.
“The Arena Masters can conjure any creatures they wish,” the other guy tries.
“So do they often conjure other Xavianns?”
When I don’t get a proper answer from the tech guy, I look up to Zek beside me. He shakes his head. “Xavianns have certain rights that protect them against this kind of Permission use.”
Right.
Great.
Humans are on the same level as animals.
Got it.
“Oh, my horns!” one of the workers exclaims, forcing all our attention back onto the screens.
Pax has arranged for fake-me to be surrounded by a group of scary-looking chimpanzee-creatures. They’re all hooting and hollering through too-wide smiling mouths, their limbs nightmarishly long, and their eyes looking crazed and frenzied.
And fake-me? She looks absolutely terrified.
Scratch that – Pax is making me look absolutely terrified.
I check the other screens, seeing one watching Pax – who is searching the skies for Az, making sure he’s seeing the bait he’s so expertly stolen.
The moment my eyes land on the screen with Az is the exact same moment where he’s obviously noticed me – or fake-me.
He has to realize it’s not real.
He has to realize it’s all a ploy to throw him off his game.
Right?
Wrong.
When he sees the diabolical scene, he almost falls off his drak saddle. The fear is written so clearly on his face, it’s almost too much to look at – too staggering an emotion to fill a screen like that.
He kicks Puff and Lady into overdrive, roaring my name as they turn and swoop close to the action.
He drops from their back way too soon, falling from a seemingly impossible height – but somehow he manages to land with a terrifyingly elegant roll.
A roll that turns into an instant sprint toward the fake monsters and the fake-me.
He screams my name like a battle cry.
The commentators are saying something, but I can’t hear their excited words over the grunting and screaming Az is doing as he single-handedly destroys those horrifying creatures – first with weapons, then with his bare hands.
Even as they all pile on top of him, he throws them off like some kind of battle god.
He comes up from the scrimmage wearing bloody scrapes and scratches, and I’m once again reminded that behind the holograms is real mass – capable of harm.
“Why isn’t he realizing it’s not me?” I ask no one in particular. “Why isn’t he just ignoring it? It’s not me!!”
“I’m not sure he can,” Zek says, still watching the screens in awe.
“Oof! He’s not gonna like that!” one of the workers comments, and my eyes zoom to the screen he’s monitoring.
One of the monsters just snapped my neck.