But as they fell, Leo smiled. Because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t falling as a champion. He was just falling.
They sat. Cross-legged. Like children in a library. overdeveloped amateurs
“Two.”
The crowd—the digital crowd, the screaming, paying, remote crowd—didn’t hear this. The microphones were tuned to filter out weakness. But as they fell, Leo smiled
Then the failsafe engaged. The floor beneath them opened. And they fell into the dark. But as they fell
They didn’t attack. They just breathed. The air smelled of ozone and fear.
Leo glanced at the jumbotron. The livestream numbers were in the billions. Chat scrolled by in a blur of emojis and death threats. These people didn’t see teenagers. They saw gladiators. They saw products.