Number Twenty-Six

Seven

Drea was the item of everyone's attention as she walked with the woman to the lobby.

"God, I'm an idiot." She mumbled. Her red face was turned towards the ground.

"Maybe so." The woman chuckled. "But this is the most interesting thing that's happened since the roach infestation of 92'."

"Really? You'd think with all these violent folk, there'd be more scandals."

"It's strange how civil they are." The woman agreed.

They reached the office where Drea would be assigned her schedule and fighting group.

"Andrea Whitlock... We've been waitin' for you for a while now, you know?" The CEO of the Apok, Richie Delgato, was sitting before her. Even while sitting, he was taller than her.

"Hah... 19 years I reckon.." She rocked on her heels.

"Your daddy's been braggin bout' you since you took yer first step. We expected huge things from you since birth." He paused. "And the first thing you do is stir the pot.."

Drea gulped, but the lump in her throat stayed.

Suddenly, he let loose a thunderous laugh. It rattled her bones.

"Just like yer daddy!" Richie slammed his fist on the desk, causing the items on it to shake. "Hah, yer in group B, kid."

"Group... B..."

"That a problem?"

Group B. The same group as Jayleen Barlow.

"No. Not at all." Drea felt a spark of competitive energy in her heart as she said this. "Actually.. That sounds ideal."

"Great!" Richie pat Drea's shoulder with one massive hand. "You can start with just familiarizing yourself for the next few days. I wanna see you kick ass, kid."

"Okay. Thank you." She nodded. "I'll be off to the gym then."

"Would you like me to escort you, miss?" The small woman asked.

"Nah, I'll find my way."

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Drea sat down, wiping sweat from her brow. Her muscles were getting tired, which angered Drea. She wanted to be able to go longer without tiring, but she just wasn't there. She glared at her opponent; a mangled dummy.

The training gym was the only place, other than the arena itself, where players had access to their powers. It's quite dangerous because players also were unable to respawn and heal in the training gym. Many players had scars from training.

"Shit.. It's been 3 hours, and I still have no clue what my power is.." She growled, throwing a messy punch at the dummy. Its head flew back, and then slowly returned to its original position.

"Tch, do you talk to yourself often?"

Drea froze at the harsh voice.

She hesitated before answering.

"Why are you here?" Drea asked, turning to face Jayleen.

"I... forgot my water jug." She looked embarrassed at the idea of being less than perfect. "My question is why you're not taking any breaks. You've been pounding away on that dummy for hours without stopping."

"How would you know?"

"I've been checking up on you.." She mumbled so softly, Drea could barely understand. "We're not allowed to fight until we have exactly 30 players, so I had nothing better to do."

"Yeah? Well, it's none of your business what I do." Drea took another swing at the dummy's head. This time, she made sure her form was absolutely perfect.

"It's not healthy. You're going to hurt yourself."

"I know what I'm doing," She pound her fist into the dummy again. "I was raised by the mighty Alvin Whitlock."

"Remember how he tore his ACL when pushing himself too far?" Jayleen walked up to her. "Everyone has to rest. Your body can't repair itsel-"

"God!" Drea hit the dummy's head as hard as she could. "Do you ever shut up?!"

"Andrea, I'm just trying to help you-"

"Stop trying to help!" She swung again.

"So what?! I can't be nice, I can't be mean, what am I supposed to do?!" Her voice was loud. In a way Drea had never heard. It put her further on edge.

"I don't know, maybe you could leave me alone!" Drea hit the dummy again. This time, the head whipped back and the fabric ripped. Stuffing flew out of the neck and hit Drea in the face. Underneath the fluff were pieces of metal used to keep the dummy's shape.

Blood dribbled down Drea's knuckles.