The blinking lights in the otherwise dimly-lit room told Thirteen of everything he needed to know. Hunched in front of a computing machine he built for himself, his fingers moved with unprecedented speed, in time with Eighteen's ramblings.

"I see a fortress in the middle of the woods. Seven passed by the highway, and I think you know it's close to Section G's hideout," Eighteen said. The girl in question sat on a dusty mat she uncovered in the numerous supply cabinets scattered around the building. It was the same method Thirteen used to find the battered keyboard, which he now learned to patter on to record data faster and more accurately.

He shifted his legs on the stool, bending his back forward just to remove the tight knots inside. Seven got back from his reconnaissance mission, finding them all the remaining sections' records. He figured they'd keep one, if they wanted to introduce order and a system to win. In a span of seven cycles of light and dark, they accumulated all kinds of methods of storing data, and with Eighteen's ability, they could unlock the history of each one as long as DNA was imprinted on them.

The official name was psychometry, and until now, Thirteen had barely an inkling in explaining the science behind it. But it was the case for everyone he met. Not one followed conventional laws about the human body and the forces of nature. Interesting, if not a little suspicious.

He requested Two to pull the image of Section H's hideout from Seven's head, and now, he only needed to know how they managed to record such a detailed analysis of their team's abilities. Karrel from Section H. Perhaps, Thirteen should pay her a visit.

But before that, they had to learn how to best deal with her should they meet each other at one of the counters. She was smart enough to hide details of her ability, including her second-in-command, a scrawny boy named Verez. She'd be smart enough to realize someone with an ability like Seven's would someday develop the idea of stealing confidential information under their noses.

Which didn't make sense for Thirteen. Why risk feeding one's team to the enemy but save themselves? The goal was to win as a section, not win alone. Unless...she knew something everyone didn't. Everyone seemed to do so regarding this game, anyway. If Thirteen found her black book, would he unlock everything she knew?

The thought of those useless things induced more questions in him than answers. Through Five's help, they opened the locked rooms, and instead of finding more information on the inky books on the bedside tables, Thirteen found out they were the same as his—blank. Empty.

What came next? He needed to distract the others with tasks connected to winning and staying alive inside the Game. What better way than to have them map out the terrain, study their enemies, and increase their defenses? The next counter, if his estimates were correct with the randomization coefficient factored in, would come soon. If not today, then tomorrow. If he was proven wrong, he would have new and insightful data to calibrate his calculations. Either way, he'd come closer and closer to the objective truth every cycle.

The door opened, exposing the command center—a fancy name courtesy of Four when she saw the dingy basement Thirteen holed in—to the newcomer. A familiar streak of white hair reflected the blue lights tinging the dim cavern of pipes and cement.

"Hey, I'm done with today's quota," Five said, carting a box of spherical shells towards where Thirteen sat. From the corner of his vision, he watched her dump it inches from the padded leg of his stool. She heaved a sigh and dusted her hands. "What do you need these for?"

Thirteen peeled off the splintering table, signaling for Eighteen to stop her readings. He faced Five. The bags under her eyes couldn't have made the shadows contouring her face darker. "It's essential to the plan," he said. "I suppose you've learned your lesson in asking too many questions and deviating from what I tell you. The next counter will be brutal, and I can't save you if you don't act how I want you to."

An emotion lost on him flickered across Five's face. "Don't you think that's a bit unfair?" she said. "We are humans, not your pawns."

"In a way, you are. Pawns, that is," Thirteen said, tapping a finger on the table. The discordant rhythm reflected the haze brewing at the back of his mind, threatening to drown his sanity in static. "If you can't accept that, you're welcome to step out of this compound. I'll remove your access from the biometrics."

Five scoffed. "That's seriously how you're playing it? Manipulation? Playing on our fears?"

He looked up at her, not holding back the confusion from bubbling out of his throat. "Isn't that how you're supposed to play it?"

Her mouth opened before closing again, not a word flowing out. He turned back to the screen at eye-level. "If you have no more gall to argue with me, kindly plant those shells a meter around the building. When I give the signal, crawl the hell away from them and detonate."

Five moved to pick up the crate she just delivered, but Thirteen stopped her. "Get Ten's help," he said. "I'm almost done here. We're ready to go online at the next counter. Tell others to always have their comms open."

She nodded and stalked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Thirteen closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. Why did dealing with people suck the energy out of him? Them and their convoluted mental threads. If they would just think, he wouldn't have had to spell it out for them every time.

Not the first time he'd been frustrated, and he wasn't sure how many more times he could handle it. It must be nice, having the narrow attention of an ant.

He nodded at Eighteen for her to resume her reading from Section H's file. Time blended in on itself, and with the command center locked out of the world, it was impossible to tell what point of the day they were in. His fingers clacked against the keys, following the spurts of instructions from his brain as sound bled into his ears.

It couldn't have been hours later, but Eighteen jumped up when the monotone blared throughout the grounds again. Thirteen swept away his current work, fingers flying across the keyboard to pull up the relevant programs. His thumb hit the longest key in the middle. A distinct hum filled the command center as more screens lit up blue.

Eighteen came up beside him, forgetting Section H's file on her hands. She stared up at the mosaic of blue-tinged screens showing them the rendering of the grounds, from north to south, east to west. No corner was left untouched.

Thirteen tapped a finger on the soft bud stuck to his left ear. "Comms are online. Count in order," he said aloud.

Voices of his allies blared through the unseen waves transmitting sound across air and space. Give it up for Twelve to provide the underlying principles for this, and for Five for producing every part he needed to build this elaborate system.

As soon as Twenty checked in, Thirteen leaned forward, bracing the table's rim with his hands. The stool would be forgotten for a while. "Alright, Section M," he said. "Let's raise hell."