The keys clacked under his fingers' barrages. Thirteen's gaze jumped from one screen to another, tracking the moving dots across the mapped terrain. He had to hand it to Ten. This was exquisite.

"Eighteen," he said through the counter's blare. The girl's head snapped up from the pile of stolen records around her. "Latest read on Section H?"

She stuck a lip out. "Nothing new," she replied. "It's the same read throughout. Karrel from Section H handles it alongside Verez. No one revealed their abilities. They're careful."

Thirteen hummed, turning back to the state of the frontal plan. It wasn't just the thought of Karrel and Verez being careful that bugged him. It was the fact that both of them predicted having a psychometrist somewhere in the enemy ranks and prepared for it in advance. Even Section M took a long time to gather all the relevant data about the grounds, the people in it, and the probable courses of action. What was their secret?

Those beyond the fortress knew well to never engage Karrel or anyone from Section H until Thirteen knew how to deal with the implication of attacking first. Five might say he was being too careful, and One would accuse him of being too afraid to take the necessary steps. Let them. He was careful, and yes, he was afraid. One loss could set him back at least a full hour of calibrating his calculations. The numbers didn't lie. He trusted them more than he trusted people.

He turned to Nine who peeked over his shoulder. "Can you sense the thermal signatures in the western quadrant?"

A finger whizzed past his periphery, circling over a random spot in what appeared to be the woods. "Three signatures there," Nine said, her black hair dangling near Thirteen's ear. He kept his face free of the irk bubbling up his throat. If it tickled him...

He relaxed his shoulders, blowing a silent breath as he typed a quick code. The letters sped across the screen at eye-level, blinking pink against the blue lights in the dim room. Within seconds, he flicked his gaze towards the upper left screen to find three dots idling in the coordinates Nine pointed to.

"Any notable differences with the other pins?" he asked, running a hand through his messy hair. It needed a rinse with how greasy and flat it was on his head. "When you notice it, tell me. Doesn't matter what I'm doing. I'll remember it."

Nine jabbed a finger towards the middle left screen. "There. Four people moved west. Three boxes."

Thirteen's fingers sprung into action before the final word even left Nine's lips. "Eighteen, read through the files," he said. "Let's see if we can narrow them down," he said without turning away from the screen. Then, to Nine, he said, "Any notable changes in the temp around the pins?"

She closed her eyes and stepped away from the screens, crossing her arms over her chest. Her boots crossed at the ankles when she leaned her weight against Thirteen's table. The screens hanging from steel braces and connection cables bobbed with the sudden introduced force. Thirteen resisted the urge to yell at her for being so careless around delicate systems. Not now. The counter wouldn't be forever. She'd receive a strongly-worded apprehension later. The briefing, perhaps?

"A little fluctuation in the middle screen," Nine said, unaware of the internal chaos in Thirteen's gut. "That's probably One and the others. They might have encountered some thermal-based abilities."

Thirteen tapped the comm in his ear, selecting the channel to One. "What's the status?" he asked.

Grunts and static crunches assaulted his ears, forcing him to drop out of the line and switch to Five's. "Five, what's taking so long? You have been at it for fifteen minutes and twenty-four seconds. An average counter lasts for thirty."

He glanced at the marquee board with red numbers known as seconds and minutes slowly reaching zero. Five didn't reply. She was pissed—that much was clear. "Have Four get into position," Thirteen ordered instead. No use dwelling on people's feelings. "Status?"

"Almost there," came Five's clipped retort.

Thirteen scoffed. "Exact measurements. I don't have eyes everywhere."

The line fizzled. "Shouldn't you be doing something about it now?" Five snapped. "Three more."

His face must have betrayed his mind already because Eighteen ducked behind Section L's file, her shoulders quivering. She wasn't crying. Nine wisely closed her eyes and did her job. He could have rolled his eyes, but he wasn't Five. Let her drive petty jabs at him until she ran out. "Hurry," he said before cutting the line.

He turned to Nine who was back to glaring at the screen. "Where is the fighting unit?"

Nine jerked her chin in the vague direction of the middle left screen. "They're still in the general area. I doubt they'd move farther in any direction. It's a heavy melee."

Agreed. The amount of moving pins consolidating around the spot Thirteen predicted they would focus on was overwhelming. It would take a long time before they managed to flit off farther than two boxes, and they weren't all Eight. But they needed to get their job done, which was to lure the rest of the ambush crew straight into the line of fire.

He switched to One's comm. "Get everyone away. Seek shelter in the arena."

Screams and grunts reflected back. Thirteen massaged the bridge of his nose. These people would be the death of him. "I repeat, One. Arena."

More crackles. Thirteen sighed and flicked back to Five's line. By some miracle, she tuned in first. "We're done. Moving to a safe distance," her voice rustled from the speakers. "Awaiting word."

Thirteen craned his neck towards the screen displaying One's unit retreating away from the blast radius. The fools who remained even went closer to the building, thinking Section M finally left them alone. Five's line sputtered to life. "Thirteen, we're in position. What's taking so long?"

Now, she was impatient? When she almost nagged his head off for him hurrying her? The nerve.

"Nine, where is One?" He snapped his fingers, catching the girl's attention. She scrambled away from the table and chewed on her lip, eyes sweeping left and right, trying to locate the signatures who belonged to their allies. "Faster."

"Working on it," she hissed through bared teeth. Why did all women hate being told to hurry? They didn't have all the time in the world, and yet, they couldn't seem to grasp that. "There! Three boxes from the middle right screen's left border."

The general direction of the arena. One's line hissed. "We're in position."

"Hold." Thirteen almost breathed into the comms with the relief it brought him. With one more tap, he chimed into Five's line. "Fighting unit is in position. Switch ready. Hold. On three."

They counted, even Nine and Eighteen who eased out of their jobs to witness what they thought was the highlight of the game. When Five activated the switch, it was silent in the command center. Too silent.

"Thermal atmosphere outside the fortress is at insane levels," Nine reported. "We're clear."

Thirteen heaved a breath and pushed away from the table. His fingers cracked when he stretched them. Good run. He tapped into both lines, telling them to show up for dinner. The briefing would most likely happen then.

"Let's go." He stood up and walked to the metal door leading to the winding stairs. His fingers went as far as unlocking the mechanism when the entire room plunged deep red and a different warning tone overlaid the counter's ebbing one.

He cursed, trudging back to the screens. "Nine, a read," he snapped.

"A group of signatures intercepted the unit's path," she replied, chewing on her lips. "I can't..."

Thirteen tuned into One's comm. "Report," he said, glancing at the counter's clock. Five minutes. What were they aiming for with that amount of time? "One, come in."

Only static greeted him.

The canopies rustled, stalling One in her tracks. She exchanged glances with Eight who sensed the movement at the same time. Sixteen's hand closed around her dagger—the only weapon to have made it past the chaos. The ringing left by the sonorous explosion caused by Thirteen's bombs hasn't faded from One's ears, making it harder to discern if the rustling was a product of her imagination or something else.

She summoned a flicker to her fingertip, keeping her eyes peeled. If they wouldn't reveal themselves by sound, the shadows couldn't fool her. She craned her neck up, in time for a blazing arc of electric blue light to whizz towards her. Her arm flew up. Too late. If it was a blade, it'd pierce through skin.

A metallic clang rang, followed by Six's groan. One whirled to her comrade to find him staggering back, cradling a bleeding arm. Her eyes widened. No way...

An ability to carry forward inflicted damage to its owner? What the hell?

More rustling echoed in the entire forest. A blur of white and red rushed towards her. She cursed, swinging her arm in a wide arc. Fire burned at her palm, eager to melt the face of whoever aimed to get on her way. The same electric blue arm blocked her attack. Blood sprayed to the air as a shock bit through her skin, sending bolts up to her elbow and shoulder. What the f—

"Coming through!" Eight's voice speared into the currents, dragging her dark locks with her. Grass crunched against the force of her gale, and Electric Blade jumped back before it hit him. Eight dropped next to her. "Alright?"

One glanced at the bright red mark blossoming on her hand. "Peachy," she rasped. "Let's make a run for it. The counter's over in a jiff."

The rest of the crew nodded, eyes locked on Electric Blade. Sixteen's dagger glinted with the stray shaft of sunlight punching through the canopies. Before One could stop her, she barreled forward, screaming. Electric Blade took it as a challenge and met her head on. One, two slashes. A dagger twisted in the air before embedding into a nearby trunk. Sixteen...

"Go!" the girl spat, clutching her side. Like One, red stained her clothes and dripped down her thighs. Come on. He's just one guy!

That assertion was soon disproven when two more figures joined the fray with attacks of their own. Twelve opened her mouth to release a sonic attack, but the enemy didn't fall back. One cursed when they whizzed by her and she saw cloth stuck to their ears. They knew? How? Was Thirteen so careless, letting someone hack into his filthy system?

One picked her weight and lunged at the other enemy gearing for Seventeen. A forcefield tore from his hands, but instead of deterring the newcomer, she swerved left, swung around a trunk, and lurched forward—all without losing momentum. Gold slashed across the air, and One couldn't get there in time.

Eight's grunt rang overhead. She was locked in battle with another ability user who splashed some sort of murky liquid from his hands. Why didn't Thirteen's system warn them against that? Or...maybe it did. Something Thirteen said before they went out to the counter this morning. Something...

Don't engage anyone from Section H. Run.

One scoffed, wiping the corner of her lips. They didn't come here to be chased around like game birds. No. She came here to win, and if it involved getting her hands on these morons, she'd do it. With a yell, she charged forward. She slammed hands-first into the water guy, relishing in the seething hiss he gave as her hands torched his skin. Come on. More.

With one quick strike, he hit her arm with his fingers squished together. It barely left a dent on her skin, much less her bone. Was he serious? "You're a fool, thinking I'd be hurt by that." She tightened her grip, willing his flesh and bones to crumble to ashes. The smell of roasting skin and hair came in droves.

Instead of begging for his life, the boy grinned. It was ironic—doing it with pained tears glistening down his cheeks. "You're a fool, thinking you'd survive after that."

Before she could process what was going on, her muscles spasmed. Her flames extinguished, and her knees knocked together. Air became a currency, and her throat constricted. What—

Her cheek hit the ground, and her fire made it inside her gut. It climbed higher and higher, aiming for her head. Her brain. The boy's shadow edged away from her just as Eight's airy blow knocked him out cold from behind. Ha. Served him right.

But it was a small victory. In a span of a few seconds, more faces have joined them, each one pummeling her comrades. Ten knocked two people with her fists and kicks, but they threw their abilities at her at full force. Even super strength had its limits. Within seconds of being tasered with electricity and charged blades, Ten's knees hit the ground, gaping wounds everywhere.

Eight tapped One's cheek, chasing away the dark spots threatening to cloud her vision. "Hey, stay awake," the girl said, but even her voice sounded so far away. "The counter's almost done."

Who decided that? If anything, it would go on forever. One wouldn't be surprised to find out Section H was in control all along.

Another grunt. Twelve and Seventeen sprawled to the ground. Unlike Section M, their enemy was on another level. Their attacks were meticulously planned, and they fought like a unit. Tight until the end.

She has to run. If she could. What has that prick done to her?

"The poison's spread far enough," Eight's voice was nothing but a dull whisper now. Was the girl talking to someone? "Take the wounded. We'll make a run for it. I'll cover you."

"No," another voice answered. Must be Six. "I'll hold them off. My barrier can take it."

One groaned, pressing her hand against the ground in an effort to push herself up. Why wouldn't her body follow? Stupid. "We'll make it back. Let's go," she spat. "I can make it."

"Go!" Six yelled. The sky lit up red and orange.

Eight wasted no time, throwing One's arm over her shoulder. Before darkness ate away at her mind, she was aware of Ten dragging Twelve's limp form, Sixteen swerving around trunks and dragging Seventeen's ass across the grass, and Eight's winds wafting across One's face in scathing blades. It was do or die, and even if the counter's blare quieted, she had a feeling Section wouldn't stop. They made it clear when Six's pained scream rang in the air and the poison gripped One's system in full.

Thirteen was right. But what else was new?