Defying Terror

Chapter XXX

August 21st, 2030, 7:15 am

"Two minutes!"

Craig Larsson tugs his shirt collar and slips the top off, tossing it into a heap where he just stood on the grass, beside Mai Rea. He twirls his neck, exposing his Adam's apple and the curvature of his chin. His arms rise straight over his head, giving way for his shoulders to move with them. He curls his fingers under each other to increase and prepare for mobility. Prepare for me.

If there is anyone in this ranking who is a mystery to me, it's him. With everyone else around here, their true personality shines through upon the first encounter or so. But I've seen Craig a couple of times now and I don't know what to think about him. There is something hidden deep inside of him that he refuses to surface and display to the world. I don't even know what his voice sounds like; that's how little I can tell about him from his outer appearance alone.

The ticklish breeze sweeps in through field and curls up his fluffy hair, that of rich honey. He's hopping on and off his toes now, giving me a sneak peek of his stance. He and Hal have the same hand positions, which I guess also means him and I have the same positions, too. I'm curious to see how he'll deal with the similarity.

How is he going to go about this fight? Is he going to go for the crowd pleaser and knock me out with a sucker punch, or will he take my approach? He saw how I was able to defeat Hal, the one he was expecting to fight in the final round. I am anticipating a bold, strategic attempt from him, something that he devised within the five minutes of observing me. His mind works like that.

"Sixty seconds, you two."

My fingers find the bottom of my shirt and I pull it over my head. I drop it at my feet as I stroll to the center of the square. My nerves bothered me more before Hal's fight than now. If I can beat Hal, nothing is stopping me from taking down Craig Larsson too. My fear is lifted, and all of a sudden, the ranking isn't so frightening. I have found my cool.

The future of the Imperial Guard rides in the balance. If I come out victorious, the rankers cannot resist the fact that the OLC kid, Slater, defeated the top two recruits in the class. They'll have to face the music and consider me for immediate duty, at that point. If Craig is the winner, Hal's rank as the number one grows less and less stable. His rival is gaining steam, and there is no sign of stopping. I have to win this, for Hal's sake.

And mine, I guess.

Craig and I meet in the middle of the square. We only stand a few feet apart, but I start taking notes of everything I can see. His nose is level with mine, so I'm predicting that we are around the same height. If that's true, then we must have alike wingspans. That's his punch and swinging range. I need to stay out of that line, but only move in when I go to the offensive. I'm not sure when I'll get that window of opportunity, but I'll improvise.

There are specks of green in the water of his irises, like a swamp. The alligator he is fits right in; vicious and looming, waiting for the kill. He regards me like I'm his heron, studying my every move. Nothing is going to get past him.

Sergeant Lee strides over to the two of us with the whistle in his hand. "You two should know the drill by now. Everything above the belt, no stepping out of bounds, no kicking. Do what it takes to keep yourself off the floor. You may forfeit whenever you like; we will not make the determination for you. Last man standing wins. Shake hands, let's do this."

He backs away and I'm stuck with Craig at the center. In a mutual, momentary understanding, my opponent and I take each other's hands in the last feeling of purity between the both of us. His glare rips right through me, and the corners of his full lips twitch. The alligator is ready to jump in and tear me to shreds.