Contest of Champions

29

My podium clicks into place and I'm suddenly in the arena. The mist still clinging to my clothes, I glance around at what's immediately visible of the arena, my senses kicking into overdrive.

Twenty-three contenders arc away from where I'm standing, forming a large, complete circle around the Gauntlet. We're situated in the middle of an open field, knee-deep grass waving gently around us in a soft wind. Around the Gauntlet are streaks of fresh dirt. Piles of supplies grace the entrance to the Gauntlet, arranged in tempting patterns to showcase the survival gear in the most alluring way possible. They want contenders to race for the weapons. They want contenders to run for the Gauntlet.

What are you the god of again?

Hela's words ring in my ears as I tense, preparing to spring from my podium as soon as the counter reaches zero. It hovers over the Gauntlet, its numbers ticking down from sixty. Right now, it's at forty-five.

I take a quick glance at the nearby contenders. To my right is Helen Cho of District 7, dressed in blue nursing scrubs with a short, transparent jacket over it. Her black hair is tied back in a bun and she looks like she's been paralyzed by fear. On my other side is Cletus Kasady from District 10, wearing what looks like a loose, dull blue prison jumpsuit. His head is cocked and a malicious grin lingers on his face as he curls his fingers into fists.

Oh, great. Why do I have to be next to the serial killer?

Thirty-eight seconds.

Quick. What I am going to do? I can create my own weapons – daggers, at least – so I don't necessarily need the beautiful pair I can see sitting in one of the piles of gear. But supplies like food and water aren't so easy to come by with magic, and I have a feeling I'd like to have some before venturing out into the rest of the arena. Who knows what will transpire over the next several days?

Thirty-five seconds.

Speaking of the rest of the arena....

I twist my neck, trying to see as much of the space I'm in as possible without moving my feet. Behind me is a forest, an assembly of pine and oak trees reaching for the sky. The forest curves around the field, forming a semi-circle around the contenders that ends at what appears to be a drop-off across from me, on the other side of our circle. A cliff, most likely. I wonder what's below it.

Thirty seconds.

What's my plan? What's my plan? I have to know what I'm going to do when the timer hits zero. I have to. I have to.

Supplies. I will need some supplies. Hence, I will have to venture towards the Gauntlet, but not too close. There are supplies, albeit of lesser quality, arranged further out from the Gauntlet, not too close but also not too far from where the initial vicious fighting will occur. I can aim for those. I don't believe getting involved in the first killing spree is too good of an idea.

Twenty-five seconds.

Is this all the arena is? Or is this all I can see? It's the Space Games. There should be some space element to this. What is the Infinity Stone inspiration for this Contest again? The Tesseract. Right. The Space Stone. And that one is responsible for –

Twenty seconds.

– teleportation. Right? Right. I think. The Tesseract was always my favorite. As a child, I loved the idea of being able to transport myself anyplace I chose, in the entire universe.

How will that affect the arena?

Fifteen seconds.

Time is running out. I need to go over my plan again. Sprint for the closest supplies, use magic to create knives as soon as the mist wears off – which should be as soon as the timer hits zero – and then race for the forest.

Ten seconds.

I take a deep breath and exhale, preparing myself for what is about to happen. I need to do this. I need to do this. I need to do this.

What are you the god of again?

Five seconds.

I'm ready. I'm ready. I will survive. I have to survive. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes.

The timer hits one second.

Then zero seconds.

The timer vanishes and the Contest of Champions officially begins.