Slater J. Tross, O.L.C

August 22nd, 2030, 8:50 pm

I have been awaiting the capture-the-flag game all week, as has practically everyone else around here. It was the mystery of it that intrigued us. We were told nothing about it besides the basic rules of the game. If we ever attempted to ask another officer about what else the test comprised of, we were just told that it was a surprise and we had to wait.

What could be so interesting and secretive that they aren't obligated to tell us what goes into this game? It's capture-the-flag for crying out loud. We've all played it before. There's one flag in the center of the fake forest in the backyard and we have to fight each other for it. The first team to return the neutral flag to their end wins. It's easy. It's nothing we don't already know, but there is something below the officer's words that raises my curiosity.

The capacity for the capture-the-flag game is sixty-four per game. Each team has thirty-two members all trying to return the flag to the marked point where they started. Standing here now, beside Hal and CJ, with twenty-nine others makes it seem like the woods are going to be quite crowded. We're going to be bumping into people and tackling our teammates all night.

Oh yeah. Did I mention we're doing this at night so it's dark and we can't see each other? I learned that just now, too. The only thing lit up on the whole playing area is the flag, glowing white at the center of the field. Once a person from either team gets a hold of it, it changes color depending on the team that picked it up. The moment it is captured on either end, it turns to gold. I had the opportunity to observe the game from the group before us. The color of the secured flag is marvelous.

There is a shining light over the door to the headquarters, and it's the only way that we can see one another. Rain is tumbling down from the bleak, dim expanse above our heads. The wind is at its worst tonight, tugging at my shirt and trying to drag me into the ocean in the west. The leaves on the false trees are whirling around as if they were real. No matter how poor the weather conditions are, we were told earlier that we must compete in order to be ranked.

"All right, everyone!" Sergeant Lee shouts over the howl of the hurricane. He spits out some of the rain as our team forms a huddle around him. I wrap one of my arms over CJ's shoulders and the other around a stranger. We're getting ready to go to war for each other once the clock strikes nine. And hopefully, we'll fight for each other after Saturday, too. That's the ultimate goal of all of this.

Lee is our leader for this game, while Corporal Porter watches over the other team across the woods. I don't trust him at all, but I'll have to go along with it if I want a chance at making it into immediate duty. I've been able to accept the fact that he doesn't trust me either, and that's okay with me. I just have to impress him here, and he might change his mind.

"You all know what to do. Go get that flag and bring it back here. If you're flanking, move at a curve. Don't go straight and then turn at an angle, you'll be taking up way too much time. Make sure you know where you are at all times. It's hard to determine exactly where but sense your surroundings as best as you can. Communication is key. If you are going straight for the flag, make sure you tell each other where you are so you aren't mistaken for an enemy. Remember, you are team red. You guys got all that?"

"Yes, sir!" We yell all at once. CJ looks at me, and I can sense a grin on his face. We're all ready to go.

"We start in sixty. Line up behind the line. When you hear the horn, you run." Lee starts for the outside of the circle we created around him. "Let's go, guys! I want to see that gold flag on this side."

The thirty-two of us disperse and clump together back at where our leader told us to. I take my place beside my two closest friends, who are ordered to go directly to the flag. After the minute is up, they'll sprint straight ahead. Me, on the other hand, I was told to flank the opposition on the outside in order to catch anyone who is ready to defend their territory. My job is to make sure no one attacks our runner by trying to sneak around the hot spot around the middle.

We were informed that we had permission to tackle people. So I can grab someone and take them to the dirt if it meant that our runner can make it our safe zone without a threat. The disclaimer to that is that we are liable for any severe injuries that occur to anyone we attack. If I shove someone into a tree and they get a concussion, it's my fault, and my rank is hindered. So I have to be conservative with who I go after.

A white spider web weaves across the obsidian sky. Thunder roars from beyond not long afterward. We have to play through this, the officer's won't let us tap out. If a lightning strike hits a tree, that's when we stop, but until then, we are forced to compete. Besides, if anything is going to reach us, it'll hit the water all around us or the pinnacle of the headquarters. I think we're safe for the most part. We just have to focus on retrieving that flag.

The horn sounds over the loudspeakers and we explode into motion. I peel away from Hal and CJ as they head right for the silver flag blowing in the wind. I need to keep my eyes and ears out for anyone who may try to stop them. In a few more seconds, I should start curving back to where they are going so that I can follow our runner or try to hunt the other team down.

My feet escape me from underneath and I start kicking. My body is rising like a balloon, softly grazing by the leaves. My mark isn't glowing so this isn't any act from Roarke. I hear kids all around me calling out for their friends, wondering what the hell is going on. If I swing my arms, my tough palms are soothed by balls of water.

The helpless sensation of my body ceases and collapse to the dirt. Thankfully, I didn't float too high, so the fall wasn't so painful. What in the world just happened? It's almost as if all existence of gravity disappeared like we were on the moon. How can people just alter gravity like that? How? I am beyond words.

The beacon of light in the center of the battlefield turns an ocean blue color. That means the other team is in possession of the flag. I need to follow them before they capture it. Kids all around me are yelling to get after them and prevent their victory. I kick up the gears and begin my pursuit.

My body crumples against another, and I tumble to the forest floor. I didn't expect to be battered like this, so I find myself seeing stars when I blink to regain my composure. The pain in my chest builds itself back to its powerful self, and I groan, trying to push myself back to my feet. I need to get back into this game.

"Oh, hey guys. Look who it is."

I jolt upright and attempt to escape as fast as I can before being apprehended. I never thought I would hear from him again. Ever since what happened last week, I believed I heard the last of him. I never wanted to see his pretty, rich boy face ever again since he ruined my experience. This was the last thing I was expecting from this test.

I guess that means he hasn't been kicked out yet for what he did to CJ.

The radiance of the flag has dissipated into the vast darkness around us. I can hear kids commanding each other to return it themselves, but something is holding me back from helping them, physically and mentally. I can't dial in on the task when Luke Bradley and Don and Rich Weller have me seized.

The twins force my arms back behind me as I try to run away. I can smell Luke's breath as I am held in place. He always liked getting uncomfortably close to assert his dominance over me. I writhe in their grasp, but those boys are far too strong to release me with a whisk of my body.

"I heard you beat Craig in the combat tournament yesterday. You probably used the same cheap shit you did to me when we fought last week. Oh, and did you see what I did to CJ? I thought you would appreciate it, being his boyfriend and all."

I pounce, but the twins haul me back. "Fuck you, you dirty piece of shit. He did nothing to you. You're disgusting. I don't know how you're still here, doing the shit you do, but you don't deserve it." I breathe in everything from my throat and spit it out on him. I can't see his face, but I know it just turned sour. Mine would if someone did that to me.

"You know," he chuckles, "I heard that if you're injured, the rankers won't rank you because they need kids who can work as soon as the ranking is over. Did you know that too? It's pretty interesting."

I shiver in the rain, with the wind freezing my shirt to my body. "I thought the one who hurt you is the one who isn't ranked? But I wouldn't expect you to know that, the idiot you are. As if you were being ranked anyway."

"Give me his left hand," Luke orders one of the twins, and they drop it. In a final attempt to get away, I spring toward where the light appears for a second. Luke arrests my hand in his possession, and he squeezes it harshly. "Hey, Rich, you broke your wrist skateboarding, right? How far did it bend back before it snapped?"

I jostle out of their hold of me, but all three of them against me is an impenetrable force. Luke has his hand in mine, stroking my fingers as he awaits an answer from his one goon. I feel his other rough hand grab my arm above the mark. "Uh, I think it was pretty far."

"So, like this far?"

The swift motion of his hand sends a ripple of pain down my arm, all the way up to my shoulder. I scream out in agony as the boys release me to fall to the mud. All sensation in my hand is lost, and my wrist feels like someone stabbed it to look like a bracelet. The world is ringing around me, and I think the boys left without another trace. White noise envelopes me as I lay on my side, gasping my air. There is no light anymore.

"You tell anyone about this, Tross, and I'll be sure to shit on your grave when you're dead."

My mouth lays open beside a puddle, but I don't care. I clutch my wrist, trying to touch my face with it. My fingers can't comprehend the sense, but my face feels their tips against my moist skin. My tears can't be held back and I let them flow to the puddle. Everything feels like it is falling apart around me. What am I going to do now that my one arm is useless? What good am I to my team?

What if Luke is right, and my injury will prevent me from being ranked? After all of my successful tests, I don't get chosen to be in the immediate duty because a couple of nobodies decided to mess with my chances. If I am taken into my interview tomorrow and they tell me that my damn wrist is keeping me from making it, then that would be the end of it. I don't know what I would do to myself after that.

"Hello, you appear to be in distress. Do you need medical assistance?"

I lift my head and turn to where I hear the almost robotic voice. There is a bright, white light hidden amongst a tree near me, like a screen. I crawl toward the illumination through the darkness and scan the panel. There is a small, cute ghost bouncing around with a red plus sign on its head. Her words appear right below where she floats.

"Hello, are you in need of med-"

"Yes!" I shout weakly, pulling myself up in front of the screen. I can see the light much better now, and the ghost as it bops around. "Yes, I need help."

"Would you like to speak to a doctor? We have doctors on site who can see you in the camera above." A blue arrow points toward the tree's branches. "They may range from Imperial Guard field nurses to even fully-trained surgeons. Otherwise, I may assist you."

"Yes, I want to talk to a doctor. Someone real."

"Patching you through to a doctor now." The ghost floats away and is replaced by the crest of the Imperial Guard, a silver eagle. Thunder rolls over my head as I prepare to express my horrid condition.

Through some static and choppiness, I finally hear a human's voice. "Hello? Who am I speaking to?"

"My name is Slater. Who are you?" I sniff, cleaning my face with my only useful hand.

"Oh, it's Slater." His words aren't exactly disappointed, but they sound like he is announcing it to other people. Who he is speaking to, I may never know. "Slater, my name is Dr. Oliver, I am a surgeon for the Imperial Guard. What happened?"

I caress my damaged wrist with my other hand, trying to keep my composure. I have an Imperial Guard doctor watching me on camera; I can't cry in front of him. "Those fuckers broke my wrist. He just fucking snapped it."

"Who did?"

I have to tell him. I'm tired of being ridiculed for standing up for myself. They have to know the truth, once and for all. "Luke Bradley."

Dr. Oliver pauses. "Luke Bradley? We'll be sure to write that one down. Anyway, do you have any sensation in your hand?"

I shake my head, glancing down at what I just had stripped from me. "No, sir."

"Well, Slater, from where I'm standing I have two options but one solution to your issue. The first option is that you can continue playing in your game until it's over, or you can quit right now and I can check it out in the infirmary. The latter is the one solution. But keep in mind that if you quit, you won't be ranked for this test. So, what do you want to do?"

My eyes find the puddles at the base of the tree and my mind starts racing. What is the most important thing to me right now? My hand lays limp in the palm of the other, and I cannot move any part of it. If I don't get this checked out, who knows what else could happen to it. I'm no use to my team if I can't carry the flag or shove people. What if someone bumps into me and I fall on it, hurting it more? I could make the situation so much worse than it already is. I should step out; I can't take the risk.

"I-" I stop before I can say another word.

No, I can't just get up and quit. I am fighting for something far greater than a stupid injury inflicted by a couple of imbeciles. In a few days or weeks, this wound can heal; it will always get better. What about the idea of losing it all? If I end it here, I won't be judged for this, and my chances of being ranked are killed to a minimum. The dream of gaining my freedom back will be killed if I quit right now.

I need to be strong. It's my arm or my life.

I muster up the courage and finally respond. "I'm not going to give up. I'm going to keep playing."

I hear some shuffling on the other end before Dr. Oliver speaks. "I see. Well, Slater, you are quite brave, if I say so myself. Godspeed." The eagle glares back at me before the screen dies back into the trunk of the tree. Rain continues to fall from above.

I rise to my feet and scan the woodlands for the light of the flag. Far to my left, some kids are battling for containment of the top prize. Instead of glowing red or blue, it's now purple. That indicates that there must be a struggle. So much for flanking the opposition. I want to end this as quickly as possible so I can get help.

As I approach the brawl, the flag slips out of their hands and turns white against the mud beneath it. Kids are throwing their bodies against each other in order to keep their enemies away so someone can pick it up. I don't know how hard it is to take this thing an eighth of a mile, but I should try. I just need someone to back me up.

I dive to the ground and reach forward for the handle of the flag. I can feel all the soggy grime under me caking my body as I stand back up. From where I have a hold on the handle, the sparkling white color transforms into a deep red color, indicating who has possession of the object itself. Now, everyone knows where the flag is and who has it. I placed the target on my own back.

I forget all about my recent disability as I start sprinting for the end zone. I can do this. Just ignore the pain, and think about the sense of victory. Kids are screaming all around me, either urging me to keep running or encouraging their teammates to hunt me down and tackle me. For my own safety, I won't stop running for the life of me.

"Not so fast, Tross," A boy jumps out from a tree on my right and gets into a defensive stance, awaiting any sudden movements. He was one of the flankers from the other team. This was my job if Luke and the twins never made it to me. I come to a screeching halt in the mud, watching what he will do next.

Before I can go for a fake-out move, a body barrels into him and sends him flying through the air. The one who did that stands where he once did, staring down the kid he just threw into next week. Is he on my team? God, I sure hope so. This dude has a powerhouse frame, and I would not want to get caught on the opposite end of an interception like that from him. I should get moving before I find out whose team he's on.

"Slater, go!" The big kid turns himself to me, pointing to my direction of intent. "Go, run! I'll defend you!"

"Thanks," I say, out of breath. I get my legs moving again, hurdling over fallen trees and thick brush. I don't know how much farther I have to go, but I can see the exceptionally bright light over the headquarter doors through the leaves and over the dense color of the flag in my right hand. It shouldn't be much farther.

I break the plane of the woods and stagger into the grassy field where we began. Sergeant Lee shines a flashlight at me and leaps into the air. The rain is much heavier out here than it was in the forest. My feet are soaking wet and still splashing in deep puddles that rise over my sneakers. There is a metal marker in the ground with a hole dug in the middle of it.

I raise the shaft of the flag over my head and stab it into the earth. The cloth swaying in the harsh wind explodes into a glorious golden color as if it came from the heavens itself. I have never seen something so beautiful in my entire life. I yell in triumph and lightning cracks across the sky, followed by a roar from God. It's over. We won.

I am confined by my teammates in a matter of seconds. They are shouting for me, yelling my name into the storm above. Even through the pain shooting through my left arm, I find the strength inside me to allow a smile to form across my face. I'm starting to enjoy this kind of praise, especially after the tournament. I'll try not to let it get to my head.

Sergeant Lee approaches me, still blinding me with the flashlight. I'm awaiting a congratulatory expression, but none escapes his lips.

A genuine grin comes instead.