Chain Gang All Stars

This was competition. All other sport was just a metaphor for this. This was the real thing. There was nothing better. And still, Wil was not happy. His seats were solid. He was full of a hearty local IPA, a nice surprise to see on tap at the concession stand, and he was contemplating a third hot dog slathered in mustard and sauerkraut. He’d seen Staxxx kick ass. It was quick, but it had been beautiful. A crazy reverse slash. A strike that screamed Colossal. He couldn’t wait to watch it again at home—he’d recorded the entire All-Stars broadcast even though he was there in the flesh. He’d splurged on the platinum package so he had access to all things Chain-Gang all the time. Even the archives.

He’d known the Staxxx match would be quick. Her matches averaged just under two minutes. She was one of a kind. He’d been thinking for a while that she was maybe even better than Thurwar. He’d been thinking that way before everybody else started thinking it too, and now he was annoyed that if he started telling other people that Staxxx was his overall favorite, he’d seem like a bandwagon jumper when he was, in fact, the bandwagon leader. He’d built the Staxxx bandwagon. He’d known she’d make Colossal back when she was a Cusp. He didn’t have any Xs on his body—yet—but he had been known to take his two middle fingers and cross them in front of his neck when his boss left the room, to the approving chuckles and smirks of his coworkers.

The best thing about Staxxx’s dismantling of Bear Harris was that it meant he’d lost to Kyla, who’d bet him Staxxx would beat Bear in under a minute. Wil had figured if she was gonna beat Rave Bear, she’d do it in under forty seconds, but he’d taken the over because he wanted to lose to Kyla; it was the more workable in. Into her life and into her pants. Now he could be all, “You got me,” and she’d laugh and probably tell him what she wanted for lunch that day, which, as a result of losing, was on him, and he’d offer her the free upgrade to a dinner either that night or later that week. On him, of course. He was sure she’d be down for it. She’d been throwing him vibes ever since she’d found out that he was big into hard action-sports. And if he could do anything, he could catch vibes. So the Staxxx match was great for him. Which was good because Thurwar’s matchup really pissed him off. He looked over at the parent-killing piece of shit at the east gate. A fucking piece of cannon fodder if he’d ever seen one. The sound of lock-in came and the boy, Teacup, almost had his arms ripped off as he dropped down to the MagnoKeep.

The beauty of action-sports, he’d often explained to anyone who didn’t get it, was that everybody had a fighting chance. The games gave people who, let’s face it, didn’t deserve shit on a stick a chance to live, to compete, to see the country, to be a hero even. At their heart, they were an exercise in fairness. Women, men, gender-nonconforming individuals of all colors and religions and backgrounds, they all had a chance at one another. Almost a hundred percent of the time, BattleGround matches were mostly pretty fair. They tried to match fighters who had a similar number of fights under their belt. And they did a great job, considering losses were fatalities. There were some who were just in a class of their own, but then injuries and the weight of surviving the Circuit that long sort of leveled the playing field.

But a newbie versus the pound-for-pound champ: cannon fodder. And it was true, now that Sunset Harkless was gone, Thurwar was the top of the mountain. Thurwar was the mountain. And Wil had thrown a mountain of cash at celebrating her greatness. He considered himself a feminist, and she’d been his gateway into the awesomeness of feminine power. But somebody at GEOD[*] must have pulled some strings, made sure she had a guaranteed win as she approached the finish line. He wouldn’t ever want to sully Thurwar’s good name—she was his GOAT, M-Bishop aside, and Staxxx, certainly on her way to that status—but you just had to call a spade a spade. A sixteen-year-old kid.

“This really is bullshit,” Wil said, loudly enough to invite conversation with the people sitting around him and his wife, Emily.

“She deserves an easy night,” said a man in a hat that read thurWAR.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wil said, smiling sheepishly. “What she needs is something to keep her on her game. Staxxx is on her heels already. Thurwar’s just lucky they’re on the same Chain.” He was the goddamn conductor.

“Let’s see if Staxxx can make Colossal. Then I’ll compare her to Miss Loretta fucking Thurwar.”

“He’s probably a fucking virgin!” Wil yelled, and this garnered a fair number of laughs. The approval of the nearby strangers satisfied him in a robust, uncomplicated way. He sat back down for a moment to check up on Emily, who had been watching horrified and sitting through the entire thing. She really embarrassed him sometimes.

“You okay, baby?” he said, lowering himself to her level, disappearing into a sea of thigh gaps and back pockets. He could barely see the arena.

“I’m fine,” Emily said, acting as though she were watching intently, not bothering to look at him, though she did glance up at the Jumbotron from time to time.

“You get why it’s not fair, though? ’Cause Thurwar is a badass. The Grand Colossal. It means she’s, like, more than thirty wins in. She’s the top dog. There isn’t any higher status. Well, except a Freed, but that doesn’t matter right now. And this kid’s a total Rookie. Even if he was a Cusp it wouldn’t be fair. A Cusp—”

“I get it, Wil. She’s going to kill him.”

“Yeah, but usually it’s not like this.” He was being patient with her because that was something he’d admitted he could work on and this was a teaching moment. “Usually they’d give Thurwar someone much more battle-savvy. A Reaper or better—someone who has a chance. You know?”

“I understand.”

“And, I mean, they’re probably compensating because she didn’t know who to prepare for, since it was a Question Match. But I mean, damn, you know?”

“I know.”

“You all right? You sure you don’t wanna stand up?”

“Positive,” Emily said.

“All right,” Wil said. He got back up and it was like entering a whole new world. It was brighter and louder, and he was happier. The air was fresh with spilled beer and smoked meat and dirt and the breath of thousands of people who really understood what competition was. Who weren’t afraid of the fact that everyone died at some point. That there was no point in running away from it.

“Are. You. Ready?” Micky Wright screamed in his singular way. Hearing it live made Wil feel like he was down there on the BattleGround himself.

“Fuck yeah!” he screamed, and all his brothers and sisters screamed with him. But he could sense unease. He was still screaming hot screams, and he wouldn’t know how to say what he felt, or, if forced, he’d reduce the feeling to a gut reaction to this Teacup kid’s being creepy or fucked up or strange. But what really bothered Wil, and he could tell it bothered others by the flavor of their yells, the spattering of boos, and the volume—extremely loud but could be louder—was that before them, down on the BattleGround, which he could take in fully because of the awesome seats he’d scored, he could so easily see how in jeans and sneakers, a cooking pot in his hands, Teacup appeared very much a lamb. And watching a lamb get slaughtered was not good sporting.

“Let’s fight!” Micky Wright screamed. A flare gun shot in the air. Wil gulped as the sound of the magnetic release hit his ears. Thurwar ran. The weight of Hass Omaha should have made her a step slower than the other elite Links, but today, as she had shown before, even with the dense metal force in her hand, her stride was hard and smooth. Not like it was a year ago, when she was in her prime, but still incredible to see. You couldn’t see her M because of her armor but her back looked strong as she moved. He checked out Teacup. The boy was standing, pointing the round pot in his hand toward Thurwar as if it were a magic wand, as though green light would explode from it and strike Thurwar forever dead. Thurwar advanced, her long legs evaporating the distance. What was that like? To have her run at you. Nobody alive knew. Then the pot fell. Wil saw it. It dropped from the boy’s hands. His seats were that good. And Thurwar was upon him, a great force upon a lamb. The young boy pumped his arm forward as if to stab, but his hand was empty. His eyes were wide. Thurwar swung hard and fast, her legs and hip and back creating the momentum. Hass Omaha obeyed her movements and found the mark.

The entire stadium heard the boy’s skull crack. Like a tree splitting in half.

Wil watched, taking in the carnage. What had happened? How could it be that just a moment before that body was a boy and a second later it was a husk? An empty cradle. A monument to something gone.

And yet.

“YEAH!” Wil screamed. That was probably even faster than Staxxx’s match. He high-fived the man wearing the thurWAR hat, then looked down at his wife. She was covering her face with her hands, peeking at the Jumbotron through her fingers. He slinked down beside her amid the chaos of cheers and delight.

“How was that?” Wil asked, poking Emily in the side.

“You really enjoy this?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t a little?” Wil said. “Not a teeny bit?”

“Maybe a little,” she said, frowning at herself, then punching her husband in the arm.

* GEOD Group Correction Corporation. The father corporation of 20 percent of the Chains on the Circuit. The second-biggest participant in the CAPE program after CCNA.