Infinity Legends

Chapter 33: The Legend Halls

Now it was Luca’s turn to pace across the room as a bundle of nerves.

Barry had left more than twenty minutes ago, supposedly to take Sarah’s gear to her down the street, and he had still not returned. If the implications of something bad having happened weren’t enough, the clock was ticking for the Wildcard enlistment. Every other Infinity Rider was probably logged in already, waiting for their leader.

Said leader had less than five minutes to arrive and join them.

For a moment, Luca considered the possibility of Barry having joined Sarah and gone with her to the aquatic sports complex to play, but the hypothesis fell through when Luca realized Barry had left his own gaming rig on the bed.

Huh… Barry had left his rig…

Luca checked the time. There was no telling what had stopped Barry from returning, but if Kramen Blacksky was going to make an appearance that night, that was on Luca’s hands.

With a deep breath, Luca settled down on the blue pouf, Barry’s VR helmet in his hands.

***

The grandstands of the Legend Halls were filled to the brim. Humans, aliens, robots and things in between crowded the marble seats surrounding the grand stone arena under the bright skies. Only a few clouds blotted the sunlight that bathed the spectators and the dozens of snack vendors roaming through the masses.

Over the perfect white floor of the arena itself, a group of bards played a number while a variety of rogues performed elaborate stunts and dance moves to entertain the impatient crowd. As mesmerizing as the performers were, all those hundreds of players had come to see the newest teams aspiring for the Wildcard position to break into the big leagues.

Right now, though, said teams were gathered in the equally grand backstage. A few confused NPCs ran from one side to the other, herding the groups of players in single file and guiding them to the registration antechamber.

Kramen came running into the shiny hall, sided by massive pillars and polished statues of the global champions of the last ten years. He found his friends—Serry, Lord, Gurm and DM3-C4—waiting in front of the marble recreations of the Star Rangers from six years past, including Kramen in the middle.

“Took your sweet time, princess!” Lord said while licking a rainbow-colored snow cone, already rushing to the registration room. “Come on, we have three minutes!”

“Yeah, let’s go, folks!” Kramen herded the rest of the group after the bard.

Serry, after showing some sort of discomfort, complied.

The five fighters waited a minute or so in line while two other groups went inside for registration. The first, six players in embarrassing low-level gear, went in and out in a matter of seconds. On their way out, they muttered something about not having enough reputation points, blaming each other for being assholes in different ways. The second group to go in, a full team of nine, marched with shiny energy weapons and electrified blades, as well as top-notch armor unlike anything the Infinity Riders had ever come across.

“Outstanding hardware,” DM3 buzzed, eyes trained on the nine competitors ahead of them. “Superficial scans reveal extreme potential, efficiency and lethality.”

“And style!” Kramen said eyeing a particular assault rifle that a toned lady carried over her shoulders. “Wonder where they got that stuff…”

“I have to admit, that gear is top-tier,” Lord said while leaking his snow cone. “If we got some of it, we’d have nothing to fear!”

“Hey, can I get a bite of that snow cone?” Serry asked the bard.

“I told you to get one, but you did not buy,” the bard shielded the cone from the ice mage. “If now you want some, you won’t get my!”

It did not take long for the well-geared players to be screened and registered to run for a Wildcard spot, and instead of coming back out they were ordered to a next room. From within the registration chamber, a booming voice beckoned the Infinity Riders.

“Next!” the voice called. Upon entering, the team was surprised by a knee-height frog-like alien that, despite stature, seemed heavier than anyone else in the room. “Team name.”

“We are the Infinity Riders!” Kramen said putting his hands on his waist and flashing a smile at the amphibian registering NPC.

“We will scan you now…” the frog said and five drones floated from behind his blobby figure. Each robot quickly scanned one of the players and the results rolled in the form of a hologram before the bureaucrat. The frog hummed pensively as he analyzed the readings. “Hmm… Five contestants. Check. Two already ranked,” he stared at Kramen and Serry, “…check. Overall power requirement, check. Reputation points…

“Denied!” the frog’s eyes turned red and his voice grew harsher. “Step out of the line!”

“What? How!” Potathunder asked. “I have a huge rep score!”

“Well, I kind of don’t,” Serry scratched the back of her neck. “In fact, mine is… kinda negative.”

“That’s what you get for freezing innocent civilians!” the bard shook his head. “Mr. Frog-referee-guy, how many points are we short?”

“You need 250,000 net reputation,” the frog said. “You currently mark at 249,987.”

Potathunder looked at Serry. “Hey, you want a bite of my snow cone?”

“What?” Serry frowned. She did want it a second ago, but now that seemed like a rather trivial issue.

“Go on, take it!” the bard offered again. “Take it all!”

“Okay! Don’t mind if I do!” Serry reached for the icy delicacy and ran her tongue over the sweet frozen surface. “Hum! It’s good! Thanks…”

“Ah!” the obese frog smiled. “Reputation points, check. 250,002 Reputation points. Registration complete, you may proceed to the next room.”

“Awesome!” Potathunder beamed, then snatched the snow cone from Serry’s hands.

“Hey, you said I could have it!” Serry protested.

“So you’d feel glad and boost my reputation,” Lord shrugged as he went on licking his dessert. “I’m a genius, I know!”

***

After more endless screening and instructing, the group currently found itself in a room filled with other competitors, most of which segregated among teams. The dimly lit space included a huge door from which the cheers of a crowd could be heard. It led to the arena, where a lot of people awaited.

The Infinity Riders had been instructed by an NPC to wait for their name to be called before marching out, and that they would be the last, given how they had been the last to register. Turns out being late had proven a good thing after all. Best for last, as Lord had so wisely put it.

Before anyone could say anything, the NPC hopped away to give instructions to another group. As Serry and Potathunder bickered about the snow cone and Gurm chatted with DM3 about their healer-tank dynamics, Kramen leaned closer to the next group seated on stools and barrels nearby.

The same group from before, the ones with the shiny weapons and fantastic armor.

“Psst,” Kramen tugged on the sleeve of the attractive woman with the rifle he had fallen in love with. Fallen in love with the rifle, that was. “That’s a pretty impressive rifle!”

“Thanks,” the woman replied dryly.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Why should I tell you? You’re an enemy!”

“Can we settle for sportive opponents?” Kramen smirked. “I’m Tak-Kramen… Kramen.”

“Tak-Kramen Kramen?” the woman frowned. “I’m Jude Judy.”

“Jude?” Potathunder jumped to his feet.

“Pot?” Jude jumped to her feet too. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same, it’s been really long! When I heard your name, I thought I heard wrong.”

“Damn it, cut the rhymes!” Jude whined.

“You know each other?” Kramen asked looking from the stranger to his own team’s bard. “Any chance we can steal you and your rifle to our team?”

“You dream, cyborg boy!” Jude winked at Kramen. “Fire Eels have this Wildcard thing in the bag!”

“Kramen, can we talk?” Serry yanked Spawn-Master away from Lord and Jude. The conversation seemed to carry on smoothly without him, as Serry dragged him to a discreet corner and pressed him against the wall. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“What? I was just having a conversation!”

“Not that,” Serry whispered, her arm pressing against Kramen’s cyborg neck. “You really think I can’t tell you dorks apart? The way you walk, talk, stand, look at people?”

Kramen grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”

“Luca, where the hell is Barry?” Serry asked.

“I could ask you the same thing…” Kramen whispered. “He never came back after going out with your gear.”

Serry’s demeanor dropped as a mask of concern weighed on her semblance. Against Kramen’s neck, her forearm shook and the hairs on her skin creeped up.

“You haven’t gone looking for him?” Serry asked after a moment of concerned silence.

“It was either that or filling his shoes,” Kramen shrugged. “But hey, we’re in campus, it can’t be anything serious, can it? I bet he just panicked under the pressure of tonight. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Serry cursed under her breath and took a step back, hands shaking as she stared holes into the ground.

“Sarah… Do you know something?” Kramen asked. “Should I be concerned?”

Before she could respond, the arena doors parted, and the first team was called outside. Both Kramen and Serry heaved at the same time.

“Too late now,” Serry hissed. “You’ll have to do, just act more like him.”

“How’s that?”

“Slower movements with more control, flatter voice, posture more rigid with less muscle tension. Use smarter words too: if they sound dorky and weird, you’re getting it right.

“Now come on. Let’s get the show on the road!”