Young Writers Society

Verona nodded and ran, pulling up the map in her holovision to work out which way to go. She realized a minute later that she probably should have gone with Pren now that Nirn was out, but it didn’t matter. She would be just fine on her own. She ran through the streets for a few minutes with no interruptions other than another death symbol flaring in her helmet. She didn’t know whose it was – she had turned off the headset now that they were split up.

Then she rounded a corner and stumbled to a halt. Right in front of her a member of the police team – she thought his name was Bryant – leaned against a wall, catching his breath.

Verona froze for a split second too long. Instinct told her to duck, and just in time – Bryant had already spun around, drawn his gun and pulled the trigger.

But the expected ping never came. The gun hadn’t fired. Verona kept her eyes locked on Bryant, mind racing, heart pounding. Then she realized – they were too close together. The gun’s safety was on. In a real battle, had Bryant fired without a safety, he would have gotten caught in the energy blast and killed himself, too.

Verona could pinpoint the exact moment Bryant realized this in the way his face drained of color. He stumbled backwards, struggling to draw his baton and re-holster his gun.

Now’s your chance! Verona thought, chiding herself for standing still so long. She drew a dagger and holstered her gun in the same smooth movement, then rushed in, aiming at the sweet spot on the left side of his chest. Bryant blocked it with his gun, but the force knocked it out of his hands and sent it spinning away.

Verona instinctively followed its path and didn’t notice that Bryant had succeeded in drawing his baton until it was swinging up to clout her on the arm. She launched herself backwards to avoid it. Shlout, this isn’t going well.

Breathless, she ducked another swing of the baton, trying to stay in close enough to reach Bryant with her dagger. She tried a counter-swipe, but her arms simply weren’t long enough. Now that Verona had lost the element of surprise, Bryant had the advantage here, with a longer reach and more damaging weapon. She needed to get far away enough to use her gun.

He swung again, and this time, she couldn’t dodge quickly enough. She was hit square in the elbow and thrown backwards as the shock raged through her body. The landing knocked the wind out of her and made her drop her own weapon. Trying to force air into her lungs, she reached for her lasergun, but her fingers wouldn’t move. The stun baton had done its work – she was paralyzed.

Panic seized Verona, an instinctive reaction to her paralysis, but she forced it down and focused on Bryant, who had realized she was now far away enough for him to use his gun to disqualify her. He picked it up from where it had fallen and aimed.

Verona slipped into her Library, dashing through the rows of books until she found the one she was looking for. It contained the blueprint of the training guns. She had memorized it just last week. Holding the book in her hand, she ducked through a side door and into the Room of Shaping. She wasn’t sure why the rooms were connected – they hadn’t been at first – but they were now.

She didn’t have long. Time passed much slower in the Rooms, but it would take only a second for Bryant to fire. She had focused on Bryant’s gun before entering, and it floated in the middle of the Room, its inner workings made clear by the memory she held in her hand.

She reached inside and twisted one essential piece – where the trigger connected to the release mechanism. It probably wasn’t legal by the rules of the game, but Verona figured when she was fighting for her life she wouldn’t be too worried about playing dirty.

She exited the Room, tense. Bryant pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Verona sighed in relief. He frowned down at his gun and shook it slightly.

He was distracted a moment too long. A shot from the roof overhead streaked over Verona and hit Bryant square in the chest, disqualifying him. He glared at the unseen sniper and swore, then turned and stalked away.

A moment later, Kyle landed beside her and retracted the launcher he had used to climb down the building. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Verona said.

“Good thing I came along, huh? Can you move yet?”

“No,” Verona said. It would be another couple minutes before the effect wore off.

“I’ll just stay right here, then,” Kyle said.

“I can take care of myself,” Verona said indignantly.

“Sure, like you were taking care of Bryant. Paralyzed, on the ground, gun pointing at you.”

“His gun was broken – I broke it!”

“Really?” Kyle said. He had been scanning the area, but now he looked down at Verona. “How’d you do that?”

“I used the Room,” she said.

He whistled appreciatively. “Is that even legal?”

Verona shrugged – well, tried to. Nothing happened, so she said “Who cares?”

Kyle laughed at that. “He still had the advantage, though – if he managed to drag you back to their HQ you’d have been out.”

Verona changed the subject. “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting Merea?”

He glanced at the floor guiltily. “She’s already out. I was too reckless.”

“Oh, so that’s who that death symbol was for.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, glancing around anxiously. “Look, can you move yet?”

Verona tried getting to her feet, but all her limbs felt wobbly and she couldn’t stand without feeling lightheaded. The symptoms were similar to when she overexerted herself Shaping.

“Why don’t I just carry you?” Kyle offered.

“That’s a stupid idea, and you know it,” Verona said shortly.

“Well, it’s better than standing around here!”

“Just give me a minute, okay?” Verona took a long, steadying breath, then slowly climbed to her feet, using Kyle’s arm to steady herself. “How many more hostiles?”

“Well, I got two at the beginning, then after we split up I got a couple more. I don’t know about Pren, but there still shouldn’t be more than five left.”

“We’ll make it,” Verona said. “Come on.”

They made their way to the rendezvous, staying in the buildings as much as possible to avoid attention. Verona turned her sound back on, just in case Pren said something. After a few minutes, her head cleared and she told Kyle he could stop helping her along.

They made it to Northguard St. without any trouble. Verona was sure it had to be a trap, so she and Kyle crept down the street as quietly as they could, scanning the rooftops for movement.

They heard shots firing in the distance. Kyle and Verona swung their guns around in the direction of the sound, ready for combat. In her helmet, she heard Pren A moment later, Pren burst out of a side alley, pursued by three members of the police team, whose aim thankfully wasn’t particularly good. He blazed past them, sprinting towards building 101.

Kyle and Verona stood their ground and took a few shots at the pursuers. Verona managed to fell one of them before their shots started getting dangerously close. “Come on,” she said, grabbing Kyle’s hand and dragging him forward. He wrenched his hand from hers and ran up the street beside her.

She looked ahead to see that Pren had already reached the goal, a circle inscribed in the floor just inside the building. By the rules of the game, they had won, but Verona wasn’t about to stop, not when she was so close. With Kyle right behind her, she dashed up the steps to join Pren in the winner’s circle.

The circle lit up blue on the floor, and Verona heard the hum of weapons powering down. Verona was flushed and sweaty, but the thrill of winning sang through her and drowned out her other complaints. “We did it!” she gasped.

Pren looked immensely proud of himself, and Verona couldn’t blame him. “I was sure you guys were going to get there first,” he said. “Sorry about leading them right to you, but hey – we all got here!”

Kyle nodded. “That was pretty sweet.”

Flushed with victory, they headed out of the arena and back to the hallway outside the elevator, where the rest of the class was gathered.

“And the victory goes to the spies!” the instructor cried, shaking each of their hands. “Nice work out there, very nice.

“Now,” he addressed the class, “we’ll go back inside and watch the replays, and we’ll piece together what each one of you can do better.”

But just then, the turbolift opened, and a woman Verona recognized from her initiatory interview stepped out, looking grave.

“Which one of you is Verona Sheif?” she asked.

“I am,” Verona said, confused. What could they want with her?

The woman fixed Verona in her gaze. “Something happened out in the field. Lani is asking for you.”