Iron Heart (The Gauntlet #2)

Chapter 2 - When Old Meets New

 If anything, the academy’s interior was even more amazing. Codi flowed in with the rest, queuing to sign the obligatory mountain of paperwork and couldn’t keep herself from gazing around like a child. The roof glittered with a storm of lighting nodes that channelled the crisp morning sunlight in through the building itself. The light was natural in every sense. Even the fresh air was funnelled in through special vents to create the oddly pleasant sensation of being outside while within the corridors. The walls shone stark white, polished and spotless, maintained by a dedicated phalanx of janitorial staff. No expense had been spared to make Battlecast’s appearance match its impressive record of Gauntlet performance.

First was the usual heap of disclaimers that essentially meant she was taking her life in her hands by even competing. No academy run by a half-way sensible administrator would agree to take responsibility for injuries obtained in the line of competition. Codi signed away without a second thought. It was part of the course.

She, however, also had a slightly specialised contract reserved for Battlecast’s top competitors, a contract that allowed her to be exempt from virtually any other commitment than training at the academy. In return, she committed to full time attendance and also had to deliver a result at the tournament.

Despite looking forward to showing off her skills, Codi couldn’t help but feel apprehensive when she discovered only two other fighters qualified for this automatic inclusion in the Battlecast line up. Ripple was one. The other was the hulking young third place finisher from last year’s competition, Chris O’Leary.

“Well, well, well,” he said as he approached the desk, a grin splitting his features. “Look who showed up.” Codi met his gaze, bracing herself for an unpleasant conversation.

A year seemed to have made all the difference to O’Leary’s demeanour. He looked just a bit more collected. He was still built like a bull and she got the feeling he’d learned to balance his brute force with a measure of control. A brave fuzz of stubble now bristled around the lower half of his face and he had his hair chopped into a close, professional military crop. There were no real regulations with regard to appearance – the exoskeleton masks could cope with even the most outrageous fashion statements – but first impressions counted for a lot in the Gauntlet. O’Leary was stating his intent in no uncertain terms.

“Chris,” she said, inclining her head. He extended a hand and she shook. At least he seemed content to be civil.

“Quite the crop of newbies,” he commented, jerking a thumb towards the crowds of new comers at the other desks. “I guess by law of averages we ought to find some talent in there, eh?”

“We were both newbies last year,” Codi replied smoothly.

“True enough.” Chris scribbled away on the various sections of the contract. His signature was an unrecognisable mess that bore little resemblance to his name.

“How exactly do they pick the team that goes to the Gauntlet?” Codi asked as she too started wading through the forms.

“It starts with the budgeting,” Ripple put in. “This year they’re sending a team of twenty. That’s three pacer teams and enough people to compete in all the different events. As for how they pick, there will be practice tournaments and regular performance evaluations. You need to keep your standards high. Then there’ll be the outside assessment.”

“What does that mean?”

Chris gave a derisive snort. “It means a bunch of ‘experts’ will do the rounds of all the major academies one month before the tournament kicks off. Two weeks after that they release their rankings for the fighters who’ll be competing. It’s a massive marketing scam, basically. It gets folk worked up before the competition actually starts.”