🏆 WATTPAD CREATORS PROGRAM 🏆
𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌. 𝘛𝘞𝘖. 𝘖𝘕𝘌. 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯.
Thirteen remembers one thing from the moment he woke up: live on, through whatever means necessary. When he is thrown into a society of people with special abilities and a game w...
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The keys clacked under his fingers' barrages. Thirteen's gaze jumped from one screen to another, tracking the moving dots across the mapped terrain. He had to hand it to Ten. This was exquisite.
"Eighteen," he said through the counter's blare. The girl's head snapped up from the pile of stolen records around her. "Latest read on Section H?"
She stuck a lip out. "Nothing new," she replied. "It's the same read throughout. Karrel from Section H handles it alongside Verez. No one revealed their abilities. They're careful."
Thirteen hummed, turning back to the state of the frontal plan. It wasn't just the thought of Karrel and Verez being careful that bugged him. It was the fact that both of them predicted having a psychometrist somewhere in the enemy ranks and prepared for it in advance. Even Section M took a long time to gather all the relevant data about the grounds, the people in it, and the probable courses of action. What was their secret?
Those beyond the fortress knew well to never engage Karrel or anyone from Section H until Thirteen knew how to deal with the implication of attacking first. Five might say he was being too careful, and One would accuse him of being too afraid to take the necessary steps. Let them. He was careful, and yes, he was afraid. One loss could set him back at least a full hour of calibrating his calculations. The numbers didn't lie. He trusted them more than he trusted people.
He turned to Nine who peeked over his shoulder. "Can you sense the thermal signatures in the western quadrant?"
A finger whizzed past his periphery, circling over a random spot in what appeared to be the woods. "Three signatures there," Nine said, her black hair dangling near Thirteen's ear. He kept his face free of the irk bubbling up his throat. If it tickled him...
He relaxed his shoulders, blowing a silent breath as he typed a quick code. The letters sped across the screen at eye-level, blinking pink against the blue lights in the dim room. Within seconds, he flicked his gaze towards the upper left screen to find three dots idling in the coordinates Nine pointed to.
"Any notable differences with the other pins?" he asked, running a hand through his messy hair. It needed a rinse with how greasy and flat it was on his head. "When you notice it, tell me. Doesn't matter what I'm doing. I'll remember it."
Nine jabbed a finger towards the middle left screen. "There. Four people moved west. Three boxes."
Thirteen's fingers sprung into action before the final word even left Nine's lips. "Eighteen, read through the files," he said. "Let's see if we can narrow them down," he said without turning away from the screen. Then, to Nine, he said, "Any notable changes in the temp around the pins?"
She closed her eyes and stepped away from the screens, crossing her arms over her chest. Her boots crossed at the ankles when she leaned her weight against Thirteen's table. The screens hanging from steel braces and connection cables bobbed with the sudden introduced force. Thirteen resisted the urge to yell at her for being so careless around delicate systems. Not now. The counter wouldn't be forever. She'd receive a strongly-worded apprehension later. The briefing, perhaps?
