Five days before the Selection

It's the weekly day-off today, and there are no official practice sessions for the cadet class. Yet, I still cannot secure a first place.

I glare at the two names on the scoreboard. Once again, Morgan's name is above mine, taunting me.

Why can't they slack off for once? And if they're such a workaholic, why can't they practice elsewhere?

"Staring at it won't change the score, Lorensky."

I whip my head around. Sánchez is leaning against the wall as they reload their rifle. Between their red cyberarm and dark-skinned left arm, the weapon's black metal appears to be a hybrid of the two limbs.

"You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?" I snap.

"What do you mean?" Sánchez answers without looking at me.

"Of all places you can practice at today, you picked the shooting range. In fact, you always pick the same training location as me during our weekly day-offs. Do you just want to always be on top of me on the scoreboard or something?"

Their lips curl. "I do like being on top."

I roll my eyes and begin to reload my rifle as well. Another round, another chance at beating this arrogant jackass.

"How did your hearing go that day, by the way?"

Sánchez's question catches me off guard. I grind my teeth. So they did hear about me being charged that night. They didn't get to rub it in then because I ran off, so are they trying to now? "Why do you care?"

They shrug. "It'll be a shame if you're disqualified from the Selection because that means I can't crush you on the big stage."

"It will be a shame for you because I will win." I puff up my chest. "I'm going to be sponsored by General Caelum."

Sánchez freezes. "Ariandelle Caelum?"

"Yep." It might not be the best idea to brag about my trump card like this, but whatever, Sánchez provoked me first. "She's the most powerful general in the Tower. I went back to check: in the past twelve years, ten of the candidates she sponsored ended up in NovaTopia. That's how unbeatable her Gift is."

There is a pause. Sánchez's brows are furrowed, but they don't look angered by my boasting; instead, they seem... strangely sad.

"Isn't her ability also the most dangerous among the generals? She burns herself every time she uses it."

General Caelum's charred hand resurfaces in my mind; I can almost smell that burning scent again. I brush the memory away. "Well, yeah, but, I mean, having a Gift speeds up one's recovery too. She burns herself, but she heals quickly, so it's fine. And I'll get used to it. Lots of people have gotten used to it. Ryan got used to it, so it can't be that hard."

Sánchez does not reply. They are still frowning as they fidget with their rifle.

"Besides," I continue, "it's dangerous, and that's why it's so powerful. I'll be powerful. You won't stand a chance against me."

Sánchez's usual smug expression returns. "Oh, I will."

I snort. "Unless you are also sponsored by a general, there's no way."

"Who says I won't be sponsored?"

"You are? By who?"

I run through the list of generals in my head. There are only four generals in the Tower. General Caelum is sponsoring me, and Ryan never sponsors anybody. So the only options left are General Edmundo Quill and General Lucius Romero...

Rea screeches in my ears. I yelp and snatch the earpieces out.

"What's wrong?" Sánchez asks.

"I- I don't know." I stare at the device in my hands. Even at this distance, I can still hear the shrill noise. "Rea just went crazy and—"

A glowing light pierces my peripheral vision. Before I can react, something shoves me backward. I fly across the room and slam to the ground. The sharp pain in my back shoots through my spine.

It takes a moment for me to regain focus. Sánchez is lying on top of me, with their head on my chest. They must have been the one who pushed me. Smoke billows along the ceiling above us. A rush of wind—colder than I am used to—crashes into me on the left. My breath shortens, and my mind swirls into a jumbled mess.

As Sánchez rolls off of me, I turn to where that glowing light came from—and my jaw slackens. The blast has blown the wall wide open. Outside the hole, a few aircraft hover among the clouds.

Holy Earthing crap. Is the Tower under attack? No wonder Rea was malfunctioning. The Tower has defenses along the walls, but they are manned by bots similar to Rea. The attackers must have interrupted the function of all bots somehow.

Dread fills me. I don't know how many of these attackers are in the aircraft, but there's no way Sánchez and I can fight them, especially with the wall demolished like that. At this level of the atmosphere, the air outside is thin. It is so hard to breathe and even harder to think.

But there is one thing I know: we need to get out of here.

I scramble to my feet. "Hey, Sánchez, let's go."

Sánchez is still on the floor, panting and coughing. My eyes widen when I notice their cyberarm. What used to be a crimson metallic limb is now scorched and deformed. It reminds me of General Caelum's hand after she used her ability, except this is an entire arm of char.

I swallow the lump in my throat. This is because of me. I was too slow, and Sánchez had to push me away from the explosion. I made them lag and get hit by the blast. I destroyed their cyberarm.

The noises from the aircraft jolt me out of my thoughts. One of them is slowly approaching us, orienting in the air so its door is facing the new hole. The attackers are going to disembark soon. There's no time to waste; we need to leave now.

I grab the scattered weapons and sling them over my shoulders. Sánchez struggles to stand, only managing to climb to their knees, so I hoist them to their feet. They stagger on the spot, groaning and scowling. Draping their left arm over me, we shuffle away from the hole.

In the corner of the shooting range, there's an inconspicuous closet room for storing extra guns and ammunition. I drag both of us towards it and we collapse into the cramped space.

After shutting the door close, darkness enshrouds us. I can't see Sánchez, but I can hear their heavy breathing and feel their sweaty skin against mine. A strange sensation flutters in my stomach. Their breath smells vaguely of cardamom. It's... nice.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I look around at the tiny closet. There are shelves all around us, loaded with weapons. Next to me, Sánchez is slumped against a wall, biting their lips and shivering.

"Hey, Sánchez," I whisper, "how- how is your cyberarm? Is there anything I can do?"

"Dis..." Sánchez trails off immediately. They take a few gulps before trying again. "Disconnect... it..."

"Disconnect what? Your arm? How?" Hesitantly, I touch the cyberarm. It's jagged and brittle, a far cry from the smooth metal arm I've always seen. Even in the dark, I miss the bright red color. Now, their cyberarm is darker than their skin.

"Bolts..." Sánchez points to their shoulder, where scorched metal meets flesh. Bolts circle along their shoulder joint, down to their underarm. "Here... and here. Take them... out..."

"O- Okay. There should be a toolbox here somewhere..."

I stand up and feel around the shelves with my hands. How I wish Rea—or any bots in the area—is working, so I can simply ask out loud for the tool I need.

Outside the closet, I can hear people talking and running. It sounds harmlessly distant, but I still try to be as quiet as possible.

I manage to find what feels like a box of wrenches and rush over to Sánchez.

"Alright, Sánchez," I whisper, tilting them so I can access their shoulder, "let me know if you need me to stop."

As I loosen the bolts, Sánchez clenches their jaw and grabs their pants with a tight fist. Every so often, they let out a strained gasp, and I mutter a soft apology. I don't understand much of the cyberlimb technology, but I do know they are fully integrated with the body, including the nerve endings. I don't know if I'm the one hurting Sánchez, or if the burned state of the cyberarm is causing the pain, or both...

The commotion increases outside. I hear a lot of footsteps, but they do not sound like they're walking near this closet room at all. I wonder what's happening. Are they storming the rest of the Tower? Are they harming other Tower residents? What exactly is it they want? Guilt eats into my heart. I should go out and help soon.

But first, I need to ensure Sánchez is safe.

"Pull... it out..." Sánchez says after I've taken out about four bolts around their shoulder. Every word seems to take all their energy to utter.

I blink. "Huh?"

They gesture at their burned cyberarm. "Just pull... this whole thing... out... now..."

"What? You want me to pull it off? Isn't it, uh, attached to you? Like a limb?"

"Not like... a limb... It'll be... pulled off... from the plate..."

I stare at their shoulder again. The bolts I have been loosening attach the cyberarm to another piece of metal. That must be the 'plate' that Sánchez said, the part that is actually connected to their body.

"You sure, Sánchez?" I ask. "You want me to just... pull this off?"

"Pull it... out... then I can... go out... and fight them..."

"Oh, no, you're not going anywhere after this. But I'll help you pull it out, only if you know it's the best thing to do. I mean, I don't have a cyberarm like you, so I'm gonna take your word for it."

"Yeah, yeah... Count of... three... Use all... your strength."

I wrap my hands around the cyberarm and nod. "Ready."

"One... two... three."

I pull, while Sánchez pushes their body in the other direction.

The part of the arm where the bolts are removed comes off easily. The rest of it remains stubbornly attached. A small part of what used to be the fingers of the cyberarm crumbles onto the floor.

My heart crumbles too. Unlike what Sánchez told me, this felt just like pulling off a limb. I can almost sense the strains of the connective tissues as they tear under my hands. I think I even heard a popping sound.

"Pull... harder, dumbass..." Sánchez breathes. The agony in their face is like a stab to my chest.

My eyes turn hot with tears. "Sánchez, I- I don't want to do this anymore."

"Shut up... Again... Pull again... with all... your might..."

"Sánchez, please. I don't want to hurt you."

"One," they start, ignoring my protests.

Tears stream down my face.

"Two."

I close my eyes.

"Three."

With all my energy, I pull.