Contest of Champions

18

Sif and I rarely cross paths over the course of our training, but Veers and I happen to run into each other quite a bit. Yon-Rogg is usually with her, but there is one time he isn't, and that is when the two of us end up on the same platform of the ropes course on the second day.

This is no ordinary ropes course. There are simulated attackers that leap out at you in random places, even when you are dangling a hundred feet above the ground by one hand, and the course is unpredictable. If they strike you in the right area your turn is up and you have to return to the ground to begin again.

I'm having a hard enough time crossing hand over hand across a rope strung from one platform to another, and the difficulty is increased when an attacker jumps from the platform above me and hurtles towards me with a sword angled for my chest.

I hastily swing backwards, barely avoiding being impaled, and realize another being is flying towards my other side. Hurriedly, I begin to move forward, swinging my legs to gain some momentum. The second attacker misses me but the third one, running lightly on top of the rope, is going to "kill" me. I can't move out of his way without letting go, and that, also, will not end well.

But then a booted foot goes through the attacker's head, he falls from the rope and vanishes from sight, and I keep moving forward, just seeking the relative safety of the platform before the controller of the attacker program decides to send another one after me.

I pull myself up onto the platform, pushing myself into a crouching position as soon as I am off the rope. The contender whose boot saved my life drops down from the rickety drawbridge above me and lands, knees bent, on the platform. I look up at her.

Veers.

She's in comfortable fighting clothes, a grey wraparound tunic with short sleeves, blue trimming along the edges of the neckline. Her grey pants are tucked into her green Starforce boots, the very same that destroyed that attacker with a well-aimed kick, and her hair is tied back in a messy bun. Rising slowly until I'm standing, I stare at her cautiously, wondering why she killed my attacker, wondering why she helped.

"Loki," she states. "Right?"

I nod. "Veers?" I ask, even though I already know.

"That's me," she affirms with a tilt of her head and a slight grin. "Saw you needed a little help there."

"I was doing fine," I respond, her words rubbing me the wrong way. She narrows her eyes slightly at me, not looking convinced.

"You sure? It looked like you were struggling a bit."

"I wasn't," I return, wanting to end this conversation but not wanting to turn my back on her. Ever since hearing that she doesn't remember her past, doesn't remember me, I have no reason to engage her in conversation.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

"Okay," she says with a shrug. "If you're completely sure of that, what was your plan to avoid that attacker? Fall and die? That's it, wasn't it?"

I narrow my eyes. "I see what you're doing."

"Is it working?" she asks with a smirk.

"No," I respond irritably. "Now, can you leave me in peace?" I brush past her, heading for the next challenge, a series of swaying platforms strung out through the air.

"You're being tracked, you know."

I stop and turn back to face her, frowning. Veers raises an eyebrow and then looks above her. I peer up into the tangle of ropes and objects that constitutes the higher level and barely make out a dark blue shirt and sweatpants crawling on the underside of the drawbridge Veers had jumped down from. The shadows prohibit sight, but by the build and size, I believe it is Peter Parker.

"Ah," I say, not sure what else constitutes an appropriate response at this point. I look up at Peter, who scurries by, seemingly unfazed by his upside down position. I watch him until he moves by us, aware that we've noticed him, and then look at Veers, who is still standing before me.

"I'll be moving along now," I say, suddenly feeling that it would be strange to just leave without saying anything. She gives a slight nod as I turn and continue through the course, ducking and dodging the attackers that appear at inopportune moments as I leap from platform to platform. And that is the end of our conversation.

That's the only encounter I have with Veers that isn't chaperoned by Yon-Rogg. Every other time I happen to run into her, he's there to keep her from really talking to me. Although I can tell he doesn't recognize me, he obviously is suspicious of me for some reason.

But why?

I don't find any answer for that in training.

In the afternoon, as I come off the practice mats after dueling with my twin daggers, I spot Cassie Lang coming toward me with a long knife in her hand. She's heading for the mat I had just vacated.

I turn and watch as she gets on the mat and begins to fight with the instructor. I can see the determination in her muscles as she twists and ducks, seeking to use the advantage a knife can give you in a fight. Despite being only fifteen and the youngest here, aside from Peter, she is able to hold her own, wielding her smaller size to her advantage.

She obviously is aware that being smaller doesn't necessarily mean you're weaker.

I place my daggers back on the rack and see Natasha practicing on the mats with a martial artist instructor. The redhead is giving the trainer a run for his money as she leaps into the air, swings her legs around his neck, and throws her body to the side, sending the instructor plummeting to the mat as she disentangles herself and rolls free, flipping to her feet effortlessly.

I spend a moment observing my competitors, gazing around the training room to try and get a better feel for what I'm going to be up against in the Contest. Sharon is shooting a gun on the range; Pietro is maneuvering through the ropes course without even seeming to look where he is going, moving fast enough to almost be a blur but not quite; Hogun is swinging his mace at simulated images; Drax is arguing with an instructor over some metaphor he failed to grasp; Kasady is dancing backward under the watchful eye of his guard.

I look at the daggers I had just placed back, and for a moment, there's a flicker of doubt about whether I'll be able to win. Then I shake my head violently. No. I have to win. There can be no guesswork to it. I won't break my promise to Gamora. I can't.

Then the chime sounds and the day is done and I meet Sif to head back upstairs.

Only one more day left of training.