“What if I told you the UHR has been lying to us? What if I told you we are losing the war? Those of us willing to question the rhetoric already know that Earth has fallen. The signs are there, why won’t you listen?” – from The Truth is Out There, 5k likes, 200 comments, 3 shares.

  As they ascended the stairs to their assigned seating, the familiar sensation of gate travel washed over them. While only a brief feeling, Alec verified Jack’s suspicions when he started dry heaving. Apparently, they’d passed through a gate and arrived at the actual location of the match.

  Why use such a large arena when the game didn’t even take place on the planet itself? Was it just an overly grandiose gesture to show the general population just how much wealthier the owners were? Or was Jack simply too cynical?

  “I’m going to kill him,” Warren grumbled after climbing for nearly thirty minutes. “We could’ve all gotten a better view with a HUD simulation, but no, cowboy here wants a real experience. Did he even look at the ticket before deciding that we needed to climb a fucking mountain to get to our seats?”

  “Don’t lie,” Nessa said, sliding down the top row to her seat. “I’ve seen you watching these games at night when you think we aren’t paying attention. I know, for a fact, that you very much enjoy them.”

  “Yeah, I enjoy watching the men,” he replied flatly. “big, burly, sweaty men. Other than that, useless, the damned whole sport.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Dave said, catching up holding a tray loaded with snacks and alcoholic beverages. “You like it because it’s brutal, and you secretly love watching the brutality.”

  “Wha…”

  “Stop before you go too far. I don’t need you to tell me why you like it. You like watching the gritty violence just like everyone else.” Dave smiled.

  Through the noise of the crowd, a rolling bass drum grew louder and louder before ending with a crash. In its absence, a silence seemed to stretch across the arena far longer than it had any right to.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called, “Tonight, you have the honor of watching the most anticipated match of the season. You will cry, you will shout, you may even curse my name, but most importantly; you will be entertained!”

  The crowd roared in response.

  “With no further delay, I give you… the Phoenix Immortals!”

  Half of the field burst into light as a door dropped open and thirteen players rocketed out at full speed. As they flew to their starting positions, number thirteen hooked a floating rock with a crimson scythe and sent himself on a crash course for the dome’s atmospheric barrier. At the last second, a strand of yellow Light streaked across the field, latched on to his ankle, and whipped him around in a wide arc that left him standing on yet another rock in the center of the arena.

  “This team has stood on top for the past five seasons,” the announcer said, pumping up the excitement. “They’ve fought tooth and nail for that position and held it against all odds. People have accused them of breaking every rule in the book, but nobody can prove it! Yes, you know who I’m talking about. I give you the reigning champions, the Khepri Golems!”

  As before, the other half of the field burst into view as another thirteen players shot out of the gate at a speed that outmatched the Phoenix’s. Unlike their competitors, the Golems didn’t put on a show. Instead, they flew straight to their positions and floated at the ready.

  “As per usual, the Golems show about as much emotion and flair as their namesake. But you don’t watch this team for flair, you watch them for perfection,” the announcer continued. “Well folks, if you’re here, you probably have a good grasp on the rules. As always, they can inflict no permanent injury on a rival, or the offending team will suffer a free shot and the player responsible will be benched.”

  Th host moved down to the field and placed the multicolored ball in the starting position.

  “Three… Two… One… Go!”

  The center mid of both teams shot forward intending to take possession of the ball. Fingers outstretched; the Immortal slammed into a blue, hexagonal shield that materialized in front of him. A heartbeat later, the shield expanded and wrapped itself around the player, locking him inside.

  “Oldie, but goodie from the Golems. Trapping the center mid is one of their signatures. If poor Crio would’ve done his homework, he would never have tried that. I hope the Immortals aren’t going to play this badly all night. They need to straighten up or this is going to turn into a… oh god, that’s embarrassing.”

  The Golem’s center mid scooped up the ball and kicked off from the blue prison, simultaneously taunting the Immortal and generating enough force to pass the ball to a nearby winger.

  Jack tensed when he saw the ball arcing just a hair too wide, only to relax again when a red net caught it and pulled it back to the winger. Without missing a beat, the Golem created a series of disks beneath his feet, building a small but stable pathway to run across.

  Before he could go far, a spider drone hiding under a nearby piece of rock intercepted him. In a flash, it jumped onto his back, restraining the Golem and robbing him of all mobility. The Phoenix wingback responsible for the maneuver swung out from his hiding place, seized the ball, and immediately passed it to the formerly bound center mid.

  Near the middle of the field, a Dragoon wearing the red Immortals uniform caught the ball, turned, and propelled himself forward with the repulsors built into his suit.

  “What a counter! First time in a while I’ve seen a Golem get ambushed so soundly. If they weren’t immortal before, they are now.”

  The Aegis that imprisoned him earlier moved in for a repeat performance, hands glowing with power.

  Refusing to be caught again, the Dragoon raised his free arm and fired. A net of orange Light flew from the mounted weapon, intercepting the Aegis and allowing the Immortal to pass the ball once again.

  “Looks like Crio doesn’t want to be the only one tied up in this game. Hopefully, he bought his team some time, but … what’s this?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Karim, an Immortal Winger, caught the pass with his left hand and threw out a line with his right. Anchoring himself to a nearby asteroid, and using it as a counterweight to control his maneuver. At the peak of the arc, he passed the ball to the Striker.

  Ball in hand, the Striker—Romelu—formed a cannon of red Light around it as he flew across the field at high speed. With timing that only comes from countless hours of practice, he fired with accuracy so incredibly precise it would have made Cecile proud.

  Not to be outdone, the goalie blocked the shot with a well-timed barrier. Unlike his teammate, though, he was not fast enough to wrap it in energy and pass it before a second Winger scooped it up, slipped behind him, and deposited it into the goal.

  “GOAL! Immortals one, Golems zero. Let me tell you something folks, what you just saw was a play for the history books. Using that striker as a distraction while getting the second winger in position… genius.”

  “You know Dave,” Jack said, taking a deep pull from his drink while the teams reset, “Seeing this sport after spending a few years with these abilities makes me realize just how little we know our own power.”

  “You ain’t the only one,” he replied. “Imagine trying to use that capture in a real fight. Unless you and the enemy are one-on-one, giving up a shield like that is likely to leave someone dead.”

  Nessa cut in, “but think about the big picture; each team is not only using their players and powers in creative ways, they are also combining their skills to create something altogether new.”

  While they talked, Jack watched the two teams do exactly what Nessa described. It was clear that each player spent hours upon hours drilling with one another. In doing so, they not only learned their own limits, but the limits of their teammates as well.

  Once the Golems finally recognized the other team as a genuine threat, it was obvious just how outmatched the Immortals really were. They impressed Jack even more when the stoic team juggled the ball between four players with ease after stepping up their focus.

  “If I was a betting man, which I am, I would say the Golems were about to even the match. If the Immortals don’t wake up soon, the match will be over before it gets interesting,” the announcer said, “Because if I know anything about Antoine, it’s that he never misses a shot.”

  Antoine’s eyes flashed through his visor the instant the ball was in his hand. The violet Light clearly giving away his identity as an optic.

  Jack perked up at the sight and connected to the striker to see how he pulled this off.

  Antoine faked left just before dashing right, weaving through a small minefield of rocks before cocking back his arm and hurling the ball through the Phoenix’s goal with unnatural ease.

  “Did you see that?” Dave shouted, violently shaking Jack’s shoulder. “Man, that was one hell of a shot.”

  “Especially since the Immortals goalie is also an optic,” Jack said excitedly. “Antoine was cycling through viewpoints so quickly, the goalie couldn’t figure out which was really him.”

  “That makes sense,” Alec replied. “Not giving the goalie a place to look takes away the advantage he thought he had.”

  “Exactly,” Jack answered.

  Below, the teams started another play, and the game was getting interesting. This time, the Immortals reclaimed the ball a heartbeat before the Golems scored another point. Like a well-oiled machine, both Wingers worked their way down the field, passing the ball between each other when an enemy got too close.

  In middle field, a Golem flew in to intercept a pass and reclaim the ball for his team. Unfortunately, his tactic of catching a player inside of a shield was replicated and turned against him. But the Immortal was just a hair too slow, accidentally catching both ball and player in the ball.

  Luckily, that problem was easy enough to deal with.

  A line of yellow snaked out, grabbing the ball and effectively turning the pair into a giant mace. The Immortal binder twisted his body and launched it across the field and into the waiting hands of the striker, Romelu.

  As if he’d done it a thousand times, Romelu shaped his crimson Light into a bat and swung with every ounce of strength he had. The ball shot towards the goal with the same level of accuracy he’d displayed before.

  “If the Immortals keep surprising me like this, I may just need to buy a season pass,” the announcer yelled. “Ladies and gentlemen, this team has only been in the big leagues for a year. Before that, they were all members of the AHF and served together in the 5th Forward Artillery. If this is what our veterans can do, I’m honestly surprised that we haven’t conquered the universe.”

  Between the fast pace of the game and high energy from the announcer, Jack found himself truly having fun. It wasn’t often that he—or any of them—really relaxed, but this was certainly one of those times. Even in the inquisition’s wake, moments like this made him truly hopeful for the future.

  “Ortiz would have loved this,” he murmured, “he would be up here screaming his head off.”

  “Yeah, and that’s why I intend to bring him back here,” Dave said. “Not sure if he can still drink, but he will be right here with us again. It’s been a month, man; they’ve probably already built the body and are just training him to use it. And before you spout that crap about if he comes back, just know that I’ve got an empty bottle and don’t mind hitting you with it.”

  “Shit Dave, why don’t you come down a little harder on the guy?” Alec quipped sarcastically.

  “He knows just as well as I do that it wasn’t our fault. Sure, you can get blue about it once in a while, but if it hurts us on a future mission, that’s a problem.”

  “Thanks,” Jack breathed. Somehow, the straightforward nature of Dave’s speech was exactly what he needed. Right here, in the middle of a stadium, watching a game with his closest friends, was not the time to lament. In fact, if he was honest with himself, there was no need for lamentation. Moving forward was the only right answer.

  “With only three minutes left on the clock, I have to wonder if the Golems can come back and take the win?” The announcer asked after the Immortals had evened the score yet again. “If they don’t break this tie, we will go into sudden-death overtime.”

  The teams lined up for one last push at the ball. The usually stoic Golems wore looks of worry and outright hostility. If nothing else, the Immortals had successfully broken their iron mask of indifference and had proven they could be beaten.

  “For the first time in two years, it looks like the Golems are going to lose this match,” he continued when the game resumed, “and the Immortals have done it by simply being better than their rival.”

  The whistle blew, and a Golem rushed in at full speed, trying to block an Immortal dragoon. Before his fingers could close around the coveted ball, a line of glowing yellow wrapped around the ball and whipped it around the barrier to Crio of the Immortals.

  “It’s almost like they flipped a switch,” the announcer continued. “Odsonne is not as quick with those shields and is falling behind because of it. At the same time, Crio is thinking three steps in advance and is very close to securing the game. I can’t remember the last time I saw a match like this one!”

  The mystery of the slow midfielder was resolved when an asteroid floated away to reveal a figure in a red uniform, glowing brightly with the indigo Light of the Possession Corps. The player stood with his hands outstretched and took command of the Golem’s armor, actively slowing his ability to react.

  Crio handed off the ball to another Immortal that flew in close. That player wasted no time crafting a sling out of his crimson energy and launching it to a winger further down the field.

  Turning to intercept, the winger sent out a line of power. With surgical precision, the Immortal grabbed the ball and swung it to an incoming striker.

  “I’ve been commentating matches for almost twenty years, and I’ve never seen a team play like this,” the announcer shouted, the camera showing him with his face pressed to the glass of his observation box, “Most teams keep their binders in the back and use them defensively, but the Immortals have taken that entire trope and turned it on its head. After today, I wouldn’t be surprised to see teams trying to copy this method.”

  As ball and striker met, the Immortal Possessor released his hold on Odsonne and took control of the goalie’s armor with hardly a second to spare.

  Romelu grabbed the ball and ran, crafting small disks of energy under his feet again as he moved. Behind him, a single Golem closed in, but was ultimately stopped by yet another glowing wall of force. Spinning mid-flight to dodge the slowed goalie, the striker shot through the goal to secure the victory.

  “And there you have it!” The announcer yelled, trying—ineffectively—to make himself heard over the crowd, “The Phoenix Immortals have won this match and broken a nearly two-year winning streak for the Golems!”