[3] discussion

The boy didn't give Scarlett and I the chance to negotiate among each other. Sighing like we were this weighted nuisance on his electronic heart, he locked my arm behind my back and dug the tip of his sword into Scarlett's spine, pushing her in front, in his cabin's direction.

"Quick," he said. "I'll explain everything when we're out of sight."

The boy's grip was steel-hard. It hurt my arm and it hurt my shoulder, but my mind couldn't stop panicking over stepping nearer to the ocean. Still, I moved with him. Scarlett was a little ahead of me, guided by the sword's pressure. One meter away from the shoreline. Half a meter. Inches. Then inches dwindled into centimeters, and then I froze.

The water lapped at the sand. Almost touching my feet. I stepped back.

The boy pushed me. "Move."

Scarlett looked at me, eyes filled with concern. Then she glared at the boy. "Give him a second."

She was right. Just a second. I needed it to gather my shit and convince myself that no, the bridge wouldn't break under me as I'd stride and the water wouldn't fill my lungs and choke my soul and ugly little eels wouldn't nip at my toes. Yeah. That...That wouldn't happen.

I could feel the boy's eyes on the back of my head, could sense the skepticism in his voice: "He's scared of water?"

Before I could open my mouth, Scarlett had craned her neck and glanced at him. "Don't even try making fun of him."

Silence. "I'm the one with the swords and you're the one threatening," the boy said, disgusted. "The audacity. Or the stupidity."

He pushed us forward. I moved and stepped onto the bridge and none of the nonsense in my head happened. When we made it to his threshold, he unlocked the door, shoving us in first. I didn't know if I should've been relieved the ocean was out of sight, or still uncomfortable considering the entire place was floating above it.

As the boy made sure no one had seen us, I looked around the cabin. Small and stuffy and messy. Sheathes dangled off the rickety burgundy couch, half-eaten cookies scattered over a coffee table with a crooked leg and...wait. Cookies? Androids could eat?

The door slammed shut. The boy leant against it and sighed like he'd never been more stressed. "Sit," he said, looking at the small windows in the walls. "Give me a second."

Scarlett rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. "Hurry," she said. I was about to sit down, but the dartboard hung above a worn cupboard caught my attention. I walked closer. The top drawer was four inches open and there were a few darts inside. The edge of my lip curled up. Stepping back, I took a dart and threw it. It hit the bullseye.

"Really, Jake?" Scarlett shook her head. "Obsessed with this stuff even here?"

I nodded. Of course I'd be obsessed with the only thing I was decent at. How would I feel good about myself otherwise?

The boy finished closing all the curtains in the house, and the place dimmed down. "Alright—" He stopped. Stared. At us, then at the dart protruding from the bullseye. My heart rate sped up. I opened my mouth to explain, but he'd already continued, "Huh. You threw that?"

I nodded. For a moment, he frowned. But it wasn't angry. Just apprehensive.

"Hello?" Scarlett said. "Can you tell us whatever you wanted to say already? We don't have time to waste."

The boy shot her a dirty look. Two impatient people talking to each other. Not the most sophisticated discussion, and I dreaded that.

"First off," the boy said, dragging a chair over to sit, "I'm Angelo."

I sat on the couch too. Scarlett did the same half a minute later. Silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, but it was probably just a second. If I opened my mouth, I knew I'd say something unnecessary, so I kept quiet.

"You two, you're here to recruit a team," Angelo continued when there was no response. "You're here for a battle, right?"

"How'd you know?" Scarlett said.

"There's literally nothing to do here except finding a team and battling. Why would you be here otherwise?"

That's what'd been confusing me. So this entire place...it'd be going on for a while? It wasn't created now, specifically to test us?

"Listen." Angelo leant forward, deep brown eyes sharp. "I can help you. I've been here for years. I know every android. I'm friends with the best Tank and Support. I can help you form a team in no time."

Scarlett shifted beside me. "Why would you help us?"

"Let's say I need newbies on my team."

Scarlett laughed. "One, that doesn't make sense. Two, it's our job to recruit, not yours. If you turn out useful, we'll recruit you. Otherwise we'll find a better one."

"Idiot. You're lucky you found me. Any other android wouldn't even negotiate. They'd kill you the second they'd figure out you're humans. Go out there to find a 'better' one and you'll die in two seconds." Angelo's shoulders were tense, posture rigid. "Besides," he said, leaning back again. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, so when he moved, the fabric shifted, exposing a patch of his hairless chest. "Do you know what you are? Marksman? Support? Or what? Based on what will you recruit if you don't even know what you are?"

He was right. Even Scarlett remained silent for a second, frowning. "How," I said. Scarlett looked at me. "How do we know what we are?"

Angelo glanced back at the dart I'd thrown, then straightened and looked at the floor, burdened. His eyes met mine again. "Give me your hand," he said.

Before I could move, Scarlett gripped my wrist, keeping it down. "The hell do you want with his hand?"

"I wanna cut his fingers and shove them down your throat." Angelo's expression couldn't have been more distasteful. When he noticed how uncomfortable I was, he said, "Relax. If I actually wanted to do that, I wouldn't tell you." He eyed Scarlett. "What you are is marked on your palm." He reached for my hand. I let him. While he traced my palm and pressed over the lines and tried to conclude something, I looked up at him through my lashes, waiting.

"So?" Scarlett pushed. "What is he?"

"Only a Support can read this. I'm a Fighter."

I pulled my hand back. Scarlett sighed. "And where can we find a Support that won't kill us on sight?"

"Told you I know the best Support here. I can take you to her."

Silence. Trust...was an issue right now. We didn't trust him. I didn't. There was a part of my brain telling me he might've been conspiring to kill us. Maybe not. Scarlett looked at me and I looked at her, and I waited for her opinion on this.

Angelo had probably been weighing the conflict on our faces. "Look." Hand on the bridge of his nose, he sighed. Deflated. When he caught our wary gazes again, he wasn't so furious and impatient anymore. "I know what you're thinking. I know you don't trust me. But you wanna win, I wanna win. We're on the same page. I'll introduce you to my Tank and Support, and you judge." Took him a second to address the bigger issue: "And if I wanted to kill you, I'd already have done that by now. I need you alive on my team."

He didn't just look desperate; he sounded desperate. Sure I didn't believe everything he said, or at least I sensed warped info, but that didn't matter now. Kinda like business. For now, who cared why he needed us, as long as he desperately did. In some way we had the upper-hand, but it'd be stupid to show him. Stroke his ego, show him submission—take what we needed from him: answers to our questions and knowledge about this place and how it functioned until we could stand steady on our own. And then...Well, if we needed to backstab him, we'd backstab him.

As Scarlett opened her mouth, I was almost sure she'd turn him down and insult him or something. But she just sighed. "Take us to your Support." I could've dropped to my knees in relief. "What's important right now is figuring out what role Jake and I are."

She'd said it with a degree of coldness, a bitter truce, even though if we fought against him we'd wind up dead in less than a minute. Maybe that was how the human race lost the war. By overestimating their power.

Angelo nodded. He stood up and opened the door, peeking outside. "There's a battle going on right now. Everyone's busy watching. We'll head over to my Support without anyone noticing." With a wave of his hand, he gestured us in front, still prisoners in his eyes despite the common benefit. "Let's go. It'll take us barely a couple minutes to get there."

I stood up and went to the door first, eager to walk past the bridge as fast as possible. Scarlett followed me, and so did Angelo. When I glanced back, I realized he'd drawn one sword, but this time more directed at sudden threats than at us.

"Up that hill." Angelo pointed ahead. The hill—a lush green carpet with a stone house set atop it like a crown—mounted beside the forest, a right extension of it but mostly bare of trees. "She lives there."

So we set out in that direction. Away from the ocean. Screw that blue ugly shit. Green was a nicer color anyway.

I remembered the way Angelo had assessed my blood. A little ahead of me, he'd lowered his sword but still he looked tense and ready to fight, eyes constantly darting around. I hurried to catch up with him, and when I did, I touched his arm to hinder him into my pace. "Hey, I—"

Angelo arched a brow. "Don't touch."

"Okay." I pulled my hand back and awkwardly hovered beside him while he completely ignored me, still focused on our surroundings. "Can I ask you a question?"

"No."

"How'd you know we're humans? I mean, I know by our blood. But, like, how specifically? By the color? The scent? Or—"

Angelo stopped, sighing. "Just to make you stop asking." He looked me in the eyes, leaning closer, as if sharing a secret. "I can't believe I'm doing this for you, but watch." He pulled a blade out of his belt and slashed his arm. A dense black liquid trickled from the wound, tracing down his synthetic skin. It didn't smell like crap, but it wasn't exactly great either. "We bleed black stuff. That's how."

I stared at him. "I have so many followup questions."

"Save them for later. Move now."

So I did. Once we made it uphill, Scarlett and I were panting, lungs straining. The slope had been surprisingly sharp, or maybe we were just that unfit. Angelo looked completely unaffected. His chest didn't move, like he didn't even need one extra torr of oxygen. I think I saw him smile a little, then he turned towards the ivy-scaled stone fence surrounding the house and easily climbed over it.

Scarlett and I climbed over it too, except...with a lot of struggling. And grunting. When we hopped down onto the other side, the garden greeted us with the overwhelming scent of red roses. Beds of them lined the edges of the house, the windowsills, even fringed the small dug-up pond to the left. Someone was clearly obsessed.

Angelo knocked on the door. A minute later, it swung open and a young lady appeared, a startling embodiment of tender tragedy. Hair soft silver, ashen eyes ensnared in rings of black eyeliner, a thin line of which bled down towards her cheeks. As if she'd intended to make it seem like she'd been crying. Mourning.

Also...androids wore makeup. Cool. Totally not weird.

"Irene," Angelo said, as if this aura of sadness radiating off her was normal. "I have company with me. This is..."

He must've realized he didn't know my sister's name yet. Scarlett, standing in front of me, gave Irene a firm nod. "Scarlett," she said and thumbed at me. "That's my brother, Jake."

Irene's gaze settled on Scarlett for a second. Then my turn. Her eyes landed on me, and the moment they did, they widened.

As if she could recognize me.

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