“We have not done anything all race”

  “So?”

  “We are getting graded on that.”

  “Uhh-huh”

  “Are you listening to me?” Annie shook Brenna until they made eye contact.

  “What were you saying?” Asked Brenna.

  Annie was alert. The water and napping did wonders for her recovery from partying last night. Unfortunately, with the recovery came awareness. “We should be out there right now.”

  “97% of all trial announcers pass” stated Brenna.

  “We can’t just cling to that. We are going to be in the 3% if we don't do anything.”

  “I actually think we can just cling to that.”

  Annie paced around the announcer’s room. She ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. It was not enough of an effect, so she splashed again with colder water, still in vain.

  The announcer's room contained cameras posted at key positions in the race. A good announcer would be scouring the cameras, trying to keep track of the race and attempting to direct the audience's attention. “Every race has multiple hidden stories, its up to you to find them”. The motto echoed in Annie’s mind.

  “Get off the cameras.” commanded Brenna. “It's not your job, its mine.”

  “You are not doing your job, perhaps I can do both?”

  “By yourself?”

  “97% of trial announcers pass after all, it can’t be that hard” taunted Annie. Brenna grimaced at her own words being thrown back at her. She fidgeted in her sleeping position in the chair until she found a more comfortable spot.

  “Act like an enforcer. You have to operate on instinct. Stop trying to find the cameras that you should be able to feel.” dismissively, Brenna continued, “ I'll do my job, don't worry. I just have to wait for the right feeling as well, and the cameras have nothing to do with it.”

  “I’ve actually had an itch that someone broke the rules, i’ve just been too hungover to notice it”

  Brenna stared Annie down.”Well what are you waiting for?”

  In a huff, Annie opened a portal of sparks, its border consisting of neon rods that were shaped like circuitry. She stepped through onto the red dust of the badlands, which immediately began dying her boots brown. Just a few feet in front of her Main was propped up against a wall recovering.

  Main summoned the most clever quip he could manage. With a cheesy smile he managed “I must have died and–”

  Annie kicked him in the face. “Think you can break the rules huh?” Annie kicked him again, this time in the stomach. “Not on my watch”

  Main whimpered. “I haven't even said anything yet.” he curled into a ball and prepared for another beating, but Annie backed off. She stood there awkwardly for a bit, not sure what to do with herself. “And don’t do it again”. She concluded before opening a portal back to the announcers table.

  Brenna was disappointed. “That's it?”

  “He did not break the rules that much, that's all I can do. Didn’t even activate any of my powers”

  Brenna shrugged. “All that fuss, and we do nothing in the end.”

  The announcers simultaneously felt a prick in their mind. Something was changing in the race. Brenna jumped on the cameras and searched around until she landed on a shot of Oswin. The ball of clothing was hovering above his bike, taking up much of the screen space on the camera.

  The sight provided much needed relief to Brenna. She hid her anxieties far better than Annie, but still built up inside. “Looks like I have something to work with”. She watched Oswin’s clothing bomb impact the ground. The camera feed failed. “Time to do my job” She shot a mocking glance at Annie. “Properly”

  —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Kevin himself was unchanged, at least his physical body was. He was dressed as a clown, complete with a red nose that he immediately ripped off and cast aside. His bike was a tricycle, but thankfully still had 50x32 gears. Moreso It was the environment that changed around Kevin.

  The surrounding world was a circus, the end of which could not be seen– Vision was obscured beyond a few miles by a red haze. It was possible the walls of cloth existed just beyond the fog, or perhaps they were far further beyond the horizon. Looking above, there was no sun, only the top of a giant tent which extended beyond the horizon with a bright spot near the top. Buildings became tents themselves of various shapes and sizes, and the sky was filled with wooden handles hanging from strings suspended who knows where complete with trapeze artists zipping through the sky.

  Oswin lightly tapped Kevin with a quarter sock to get his attention. “Isn't this so much better? I hope its filling you with energy. Especially because i’m not super energetic at the moment” Oswin leaned heavily on the handlebars of his tricycle, relying on them just to hold himself up.

  He was dressed in a ringleader outfit. It consisted of a red and black jacket dotted with gold buttons and crossed with small strings of the same gold color. Any racer caught in the blast (which included all racers within eyeshot) found themselves in a similar fate: clothed with something that fit the theme.

  Kevin tested his tricycle by applying the brakes lightly and cautiously switching gears. Everything worked just the same as before, at least this time.

  “Do you know what you just did?” asked Kevin.

  “I did what felt right.” Oswin took in the full expanse of his power with sleepy eyes, however his mouth never broke away from a full smile.

  Kevin brought his brows together. “Can you undo it?”

  Oswin scoffed. “Can I undo it?” He mocks. “Yea, i’m pretty sure.”

  “How pretty sure”

  “Well its not as if I can hit a fucking button.” More than that, how about some congratulations for pulling this shit off. Thought Oswin.

  “So it’s just gonna drain your energy until you pass out? What are you going to do when class 3 abilities are not allowed later in the race? This might even be class 4. Oh man what are we going to do about the enforcer?”

  “Can we just enjoy–”

  “Break, NOW” Kevin commanded.

  Oswin burnt rubber as his bike tires slid across the ground unturning. Smith’s fist impacted only the air in front of him. He was dressed in a lion onesie, complete with a mane that stretched out a foot from his head and whiskers drawn on with marker. With Oswin decelerating, he turned his attention to Kevin, who ducked his first blow and kicked Smith’s bike, putting distance between them.

  Wanting to deny Kevin the ability to think, Smith closed the gap between them once more. Kevin summoned his bow, which was made of balloons. Seriously? It somehow got more useless. Smith was upon him. No time for deliberation. Matching the fist of the goliath with one of his own, the impact sent them both to opposite sides of the track.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Damn right” Yelled Kevin in victory. His right arm sleeve was in tatters. “You aren't the only one who can work out.” Moving his right arm about allowed him to show off how much extra energy he had. It also allowed him to check for broken bones, and nothing was broken yet.

  Oswin breathed a sigh of relief. Things should get much easier now that he's done pretending. No more bow boy.

  Smith locked his gaze onto Kevin and for the first time that day, contemplated another racer. Kevin expected to see anger or frustration, perhaps even fear, but all he could see was Smith’s patient and thoughtful eyes. He scanned Kevin like a researcher studying a rat after a failed experiment.

  Above the commotion Brenna watched with absolute glee. She stood on a small cloud that followed her every command, and currently it was keeping pace with the clown patrol. Like Annie, she had the announcer’s basic ability to open portals to any place on the track at will. Unlike Annie, her portals were bordered by rusted steel instead of advanced circuitry.

  To her complete disappointment, Smith and Kevin continued their staring contest for the next several minutes. Each was content with simply passing other bikers with their superior physique. The circus theme was ideal for this. It shuffled turns on the track and changed the ergonomics of the road. Sharp, banked turns were replaced by massive gaping holes with trapeze bars attached to the top of nearby tents. The pitfall still followed the turn, but the method for taking the turn was now to swing on a rope for most of the rotation of the circle. Many riders fell to the unexpected weight of centrifugal force acting against their grip.

  Despite being the creator of this theme, Oswin struggled getting past the obstacles, but not to the extent of outright crashing. Keeping pace even 100 meters behind Kevin pushed him to his limit.

  “This won’t do” Brenna thought out loud. “I should do something.” In a panic her hands flew to her head. What if it is already too late? Nothing has been happening for too long. We always say to strike when the iron is hot. I guess I can heat things up manually. She whipped out the racing camera that all announcers keep on them, and turned it on.

  “Hello, this is announcer Brenna Barbariaus coming to you live from the race track. Towards the end of the remaining pack of riders we have an intense standoff between two rivals this race. On the left we have Smith Jones, a newbie this year. Much like our other racer, Kevin Curber. They have clashed multiple times to get to this point.”

  Brenna closed her eyes to interface with the online stream mentally, but only managed to give herself a throbbing headache. Time is ticking. She opened her portal back to the announcer stand and used her practiced hands to show replays of the fights between Kevin and Smith.

  “Hey Annie I need you to…” Her voice trailed off. “Annie? I need you bestie.” She gritted her teeth and hissed. Focusing back on the cameras, the recorder left on the cloud fell over while it was unattended. Thankfully the replays took up the entire feed, but the issue would still need fixing pronto. Brenna’s clammy hands set up the recordings to automatically terminate after the replay finished, and opened a portal back to her cloud.

  The recorder fixed, she made an offer to the racers. “Attention riders, if you fight on camera, I’ll grant the winner a bonus 15 points in standing.”

  What the heck is a point? Thought Kevin.

  In a race like this, 15 points would translate to about 23 seconds. I’m liable to lose much more time than that fighting this opponent, so I’ll stay the current course. Smith calculated. More importantly, her last time was Barbariaus. If she inherited her father’s power this will get messy, but i'm guaranteed to come out on top.

  “So will you guys take the deal?” asked Brenna. She got no response from the athletes. “I can give you a favor, just do me a solid right?” Still no response. “Comeon!” She begged. Her camera beeped, indicating she had five seconds before the replays ended and the normal race stream resumed.

  “Or I can force you. You don’t wanna find out what happens then.” Three more beeps from the camera, the stream resumed. Brenna plastered a grin across her face. “As you can see, the fighting has been intense, and all signs point that it's about to respune– I mean resume.”

  The two rivals stare up at the camera blankly. Farther behind, Oswin, who is completely drenched in sweat, desperately wishes he had the energy to yell. He wills Kevin in his mind instead. Fight. Fight now. Don’t push the announcer any farther. Even from a distance Oswin read Brenna like a book. Her hair was more unkempt and knotty than from the beginning of the race indicating she had spent time playing with it out of stress. She smiled at the camera but every time she looked away her face twisted in fear. Her free hand continued to mess with her hair, adding to the chaos on her head. She is about to do something really stupid. Please Don’t back anyone into a corner like this, especially not someone controlling the race.

  “It seems the racers are,” Brenna paused, desperately searching for words. “Getting ready to fight.” Brenna gritted her teeth and strained a smile for the camera. Ok, I'm failing either way. Brenna lifted her hand and began to summon her power. If my old man did not suck at teaching, perhaps I would know how to do this properly.

  Space warped around Brenna as a new theme combated Oswin’s circus. Her clothing transformed from comfortable pajamas to decidedly uncomfortable leather scrap armor. It was a full suit, covering everything aside from her head, hands and feet with old, chafing leather with bits of steel sewn into it everywhere. The ends of her appendages were covered far more metal than leather, and never fit right. It was the armor of a post apocalyptic society, at least one version of it.

  She visualied rebar linking with rusted rebar under the ground, and willed it into existence. Then the sheets of woven rebar were bent into two halves of a cage. Each of the halves followed Smith and Kevin respectively, their victims blissfully unaware of the trap below the surface. This time, without impaling the occupants, Brenna hoped.

  With a flick of the wrist, the Cage lept out of the ground catching all the intended combatants. It fused together in the middle of the track, floating above the ground at the same speed that the riders were traveling at previously. Kevin watched in despair as his bike fell through the rebar cage as if it was not there. A steel chain extended from the trap and attached itself to the bikes, which now lagged 20 feet behind in tow.

  Brenna arched her back and took in as much air as her lungs could manage. “WWWWWELCOME TO THE THUNDER DOME!” She announced. With the spell completed her theme extended… not actually that far at all. Depressingly short. The ground beneath the cage hardly even converted to sand. The rest of the track was still circus themed. The announcer hid her disappointment on camera, but questioned herself in her mind. Someone has a power strong enough to override an announcer’s theme? She looked down at her hands. Or perhaps I just suck.

  In any case, the thunderdome needed spectators to enhance the feel and audience engagement. With a few more waves of the hand, Brenna summoned scavengers from that fit her theme. They were savages, wielding rusted pipes and heavy chains. They screamed and climbed around on the thunder dome, banging their weapons against the arena, but not daring to interrupt the combatants inside.

  Within the cage, Kevin carefully considered what to do next. Neither him nor Smith was dressed like a clown anymore, they both wore clothing similar to the announcer. The major difference was the lack of shirts for the men in the cage, leaving them bare chested. As Kevin flexed his glove on his hand, he felt the small steel plates rub against another. A punch from someone wearing this would be extra damaging.

  His roommate had no pause for thought, and attempted to put his gorilla sized fist through Kevin’s face the first chance he got. Kevin only managed to dodge by centimeters. “Hold on, don't you think we should consider something? Think this out?” Kevin reasoned.

  “What is there to consider? How red my fist will be after it smashes your head like a fucking watermelon?” stated Smith confidently. “Plus it's bad luck to go against the announcer’s will, but that's trivial.” He charged Kevin again, with a right straight that broke through the rebar on the cage. Once Smith’s fist was removed, the thunder dome mended the wound automatically.

  “As you all can see here we have an intense fight between the riders at the very tail of the pack. It just goes to show that even in nearly last place, each athlete is giving it his all.” Brenna eagerly checked the current viewer count. Seven live viewers – massive success. “The gambling hall has started taking bets. Current odds are 310 to 100 in favor of Smith Jones”

  “Man, people are just lining up to place bets against me,” Vented Kevin, but he ended the statement with a smile. “Just like it always is”

  He ducked Smith’s left hook and delivered an uppercut of his own, sending Smith flying. The top of his head scraping against the top of the thunder dome. Before any recovery could be attempted, Kevin was already on top of him. He rocked Smith back and forth with his fits until a sweeping hand from Smith knocked him off balance. The larger man took this fatal moment to throw Kevin aside like a horse bucks a rider.

  With both of them on their feet once more, Kevin jumped off the side of the cage to deliver a flying kick to Smiths face. This was followed by a second kick to the face, then a punch to the gut. Kevin spun around for a third kick, which resulted in his foot being caught by two massive hands. With a grunt, Smith slammed Kevin into the rebar.

  Stars and lights make a grand entrance into Kevin’s vision. They danced around as he tried to remember which way was up. Out of time, he guesses. Stumbling, crawling, and struggling, he gets out of the way of the next blow from the roid-racer. With herculean effort, Kevin returns to his feet and plays defense with wobbly legs.

  “I’m here” Shouted Oswin. He grabbed the same steel chain that held Kevin’s bike and gasped for breath, clutching his chest. Between wheezes he looked up to see the balance of power in the cage match, and he let his head back down from lack of energy. The chain that Oswin touched turned to a brightly colored yellow rope, and the transformation slowly made its way towards the thunder dome.

  In the transition from steel to fiber, Kevin saw a small, empowering spark of hope.