Author's Note: This story is dedicated to all the loyal fans who were utterly patient with me throughout the nearly three years it took to finish Hi Skool Girl. If you haven't read it, you probably should read it first if you're going to read this. This takes place three months after the last chapter of HSG.

A bit about the character Hannah: She began as a self-insert, but that was discontinued a long time ago for many reasons. It's difficult to write a good story with a self-insert, because the process can interfere with both the story and one's life. By the time this aspect of her character changed, it was too late for me to change her name. So she's not me, but as my protagonist, I still identify with her. If that makes any sense at all, I applaud you.

I'll be responding to reviews as usual, and I really would appreciate feedback. Thank you, and I hope you all enjoy the story! As always, all credit for anything good in here goes to God.

The Epic Battle Tournament

Part 1: Play

Chapter 1: The Conference

Boots thumped against pink metal. Dressed in magenta uniforms, the horde marched toward the edifice, bunching up as the entrance to the circular hall filled with people.

"I hear we're getting cake."

"Do you know what our next move is?"

"We're going to learn."

"Hurry up, I have to save three seats!"

"I think this entire ceasefire thing is stupid. We should have blown the Resisty out of the sky when we crippled them on Callnowia."

"You know we couldn't have done that."

"Oh, yes, we could have."

"I heard—"

A Conventia robot performed a final scan before waving the Irkens through. As they dispersed to find refreshments and seats, talking diminished.

"Whatever our next move is," one spoke, "at least we'll strike first."

The last time I'd been here, the stage had had a different lineup. Setting the platter of cinnamon donuts on a table, I let my gaze drift to the green-and-magenta mass below the balcony—pulsing, frenziedly snacking people. Beside my chair was a chair for Skoodge. The sad thing is, that isn't a joke. Our seats, and the two they flanked, at the balcony's edge, all faced the stage.

As the lights dimmed. I checked the table—drinks, donuts, napkins, and plenty of ice—good. The crowd had become louder with the partial lighting loss.

"Welcome, Irken citizens, to the Empire's cease-ceasefire meeting! Please, take your seats and your portion of snacks, and give a warm welcome to two individuals who need no introduction, but are going to get one anyway."

Cheering. I smirked and my gaze found the ceiling above the stage. They're brilliant. This is good prep. This is all good.

"Welcome your shiningly spectacular leaders, who won you the first phase of the Irken—Resisty war, and who will forever be enshrined as the coolest Irkens of all time, your Almighty Tallest!" The people became raving head cases. The platform hissed and slowly descended after several seconds. I gave a wave the Tallest wouldn't see. A streamer bomb exploded over the audience. Someone somewhere had an air horn. The platform finally reached the stage.

"Welcome, citizens of the Empire!" Purple spoke first. Rare, but not undone. The crowd gradually quieted. "Today, we'll be discussing plans for the continuation our the war with the Resisty."

Red was next. "Our peace treaty with the rebels ends in two weeks. We aim to have a plan for if the Resisty strike first." His next words held a smirk. "But they won't be striking first, now will they?"

Voices. An air horn. Another streamer bomb.

"That's enough!" Purple called. "Today, for once in our amazing lives, we won't be the only ones speaking. We've invited the elites and Rarl Kove to have a say."

"No need," Red amended, "to throw anything, though. Show them respect."

"Though not as much as us."

"Tallest rock!" The third streamer bomb had white sparks.

"Enough with the explosions!" Red said. "I don't want to get bombed in the balcony at a ceasefire meeting." A ripple of laughter swept the auditorium. Red looked up toward me and my heart skipped a beat.

"Now," Purple said, "welcome to the stage, with a moderate amount of applause, our advisor, Rarl Kove!" Rarl ascended the stairs and smiled lightly at the crowd. "Take it away, Kove." Purple jabbed a finger at him. "Just don't break anything."

A salute. "Yes, my Tallest." Red and Purple moved towards the first floor exit. "Hello, everyone. I'm here to talk to you about—"

"Sorry I'm late." Skoodge's voice pulled my attention to the door of the balcony. The short Irken, looking winded, pushed in a rolling tray. On it, a collection of sloppily-frosted ding-dongs flocked.

"Hey, Skoodge, those aren't acceptable." And he doesn't have time to get new ones. "You're lucky I brought enough donuts."

Skoodge sighed. "Sorry. I didn't have time." He dumped the tray onto the table, and it almost knocked off the ice bucket. "I tried to convince Slacks to work the tech panel, but he said he's too tall, so I tried to talk Zim into doing it, and he wouldn't even let me say, 'Zim, I've gotta move on and take care of important, Empirely things…like frosting ding-dongs.' Plus, the kitchen traffic was so bad that my commute up here took ten minutes."

The doors opened again. The Tallest entered the balcony, more striking in my immediate vicinity. I looked at Skoodge. "Ten minutes?"

"…More or less."

Red nodded. "Hello." His tone wasn't as professional as it had just—something in which I took pride. Skoodge and I greeted them.

When Purple spotted Skoodge's tray, he frowned, and my heart sank. "What are those?"

Fidgeting, Skoodge responded, "They're…uh…they're…"

"For Skoodge and me." I grabbed the tray. "Sorry they were there—I told him to make them and they weren't supposed to be there." I caught Skoodge's look out of the corner of my eye.

"…Okay then." Purple seized the donuts and sat beside Red to watch. He next spoke through a mouth full of crumbs. "Look. Cinnamon."

Red took one and threw a grin over his shoulder. "You're the best."

I felt myself smile, quickly turned to watch the stage, and mentally willed myself to not blush. Get drinks. I made eye contact with Skoodge and nodded, feeling grateful I'd had him to help me for the past three months. Rarl was still speaking when I took my seat. "My plan involves strategy primarily—we have to fight smarter this time. Thank you." A bow, and conservative applause. "Welcome my colleague, who, I just thought I'd point out, is two inches shorter than me. Commander Zee's team is one of the most prestigious in the Armada." He smirked. "Unfortunately, she won't be getting to the refreshments before me."

"I could get used to this." Purple gestured around at the balcony. "It's nice not to have to smile and wave the entire time."

Red popped another donut in his mouth. "Is 'oo 'ressfl."

I grinned. "What was that?" Red mirrored my grin as best he could and uttered an extremely articulate answer.

"Shum umph."

Skoodge and I broke down into giggles as Zee began to speak.

Red swallowed. "I said shut up." He pointed to Skoodge. "And I know you made those pastries for us, so get me a refill."

Skoodge's eyes widened. "Right away."

Ruby eyes met mine. "Intimidating new help is entertaining."

"You did plenty of it when I first got here."

"Remember the first sandwich you made him?" Purple smirked.

I frowned. "No."

"It had a hideous mustard-mayo ratio. One to twenty-seven or something."

"Well. Sorry."

Skoodge handed Red a glass and took his own seat.

"Resisty activity," Zee was saying, "around Meekrob has been sparser recently. Callnowia has been left alone, too. What the rebels don't know is that we still have eyes on Meekrob through invader Tenn's old underground base. That and citizen allies could aid us in a potential surprise attack if the rebels ever camped there."

I felt my eyebrows rise. "Tenn's stuff is still active on Meekrob?"

"I propose we take advantage of this by striking first. What better place than Meekrob, where it all began? Let's intimidate them again!"

A cry of, "Yeah!" from below. More exclamations of approval.

Red nodded. "That's a good idea. I wanna see the look on their faces when Meekrob sides with us."

"I wanna see the look on the Meekrob's faces," Skoodge said, "when they realize our tech's still under their construction!"

Purple frowned. "Who gave you permission to speak?"

"I…but she…"

Red spoke. "Saved you from having to explain your messy frosting skills."

I swallowed a snicker. A pang of guilt hit me for not standing up for my helper…but I reasoned I wouldn't have had anything to say, anyway.

Slacks took the stage. These ideas are good. I can't believe the Irkens are going to vote on them. "My plan involves beating the rebels to a pulp like we did last time, but with more prejudice!" Slack's voice imitated an Earth pro-wrestler's. The crowd loved it. "Let's crush those Resisty scum and show them we mean universal business!"

"Yeah!" Purple raised his arms and I stifled another chuckle. Why, in hundreds of years, don't they mature past the point humans do?

"I say we march straight up to Vort and give 'em what for with our new weapons!" Slacks enthusiastically mimed this conclusion.

"…Okay." Purple faced Red. "Maybe not the best idea, now that I think about it."

"Slacks had to make himself heard among a society of large-nostril people," the other replied. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and call that his leftover enthusiasm."

As Slacks continued his annoying performance, I touched the metal on my right forearm with a finger, still amused at the cool, hard surface where only my sleeve showed. The laser's invisibility came in handy since I always wanted to have it around me now.

Her young, chiseled face, red hair over her shoulders, her voice, she and I flying in the cruiser…Dib and Dwicky still called, and I still contacted my father. But she…

The Tallest had recovered too quickly. Death was common out here, but it had taken less than three months for them. If I mentioned her, I'd get some nods and a smile or two.

At first, I didn't see Red holding out his glass. "Hey."

"…Sorry." I crossed to him, and he leaned over and talked to me in a low tone.

"What's going on?"

Fake look. "I'm fine. Just zoned out."

Red didn't look convinced, but Slack's booming promises pulled his attention. Sighing under my breath, I went to the table. Suddenly, a familiar voice filled the space behind the balcony doors. Low, raucous, every few syllables enunciated…I stopped breathing.

"Zim." My dread built until a loud knock—so loud I worried the rest of the convention hall would hear it—sounded. The doors shot open.

"Hello, my Tallest!"

They whirled around in their seats, wearing dumbfounded and horrified expressions. Red spoke as if the universe had suddenly become devoid of pink frosted donuts. "Zim?"

The familiar face grinned back. "Yes, it is I! Thank you for inviting me to speak, my Tallest; I'm truly flattered. Ooh—is that cinnamon?" Zim shoveled donuts in his mouth.

Taking great care to make sure my voice conveyed my mood, I addressed him. "Those. Aren't. For you."

Purple added, "What are you doing here?"

"Thsss'n' uhluht speakin evunt, n'um'nn'vader, right?"

Skoodge flinched. "You're getting crumbs everywhere! Not that that's unusual here, but still."

Red dragged a hand down his face. "I thought we told you to stay backstage and serve snacks. Were you listening during that spiel?"

"Oh, but I have been serving them! These people are so greedy—one of them took two artificial sugar packets: two!"

Purple rolled his eyes. "Say it isn't true."

"Not to worry, my Tallest! There'll be no nonsense on Zim's watch! I'm next to speak, aren't I?"

"…Uhh—"

"Right?"

"Well…"

"Right?"

"Zim—"

"Right?"

"Shut up—"

"Right?"

Several Irken elite entered the balcony. "Hey! You're supposed to be serving snow cones right now!"

Zim turned on them with an indignant look. "I will not go back into that dark soup of pushing, shoving people and condiment explosions! The Tallest are allowing me to speak!"

The elite exchanged knowing looked with the Tallest.

Purple spoke. "Zim, you're not—"

"My ideas are better than invader Slacks." More crumbs. "I have well-wrapped strategies—information: you have to let me speak."

"Zim—"

"Oh, please, my Tallest—"

"Enough!" Red balled his hands into fists. "Just shut up, go speak for five minutes, and then get back in the kitchen!"

Zim's grin and eyes grew wider. "Yes! Haha! Thank you, my Tallest!" Then, pointing at the elites, "I told you I'm not making any more snow cones! I told you!"

"You know," one of them said on their way off the balcony, "you have to come back in five minutes, right?"

The Tallest sank into their chairs. Purple waved a hand. "Where are the donuts?"

I turned to the table and groaned. "…There aren't any."

Slacks' voice: "Because we're the most awe-inspiring, deserving, fantastic Empire of all time!" Fevered applause, cheering, broke out on the ground level.

"Well—" Red turned to me, "—you should make some more."

Disappointment. Carefully, I phrased my response. "I can't…watch the end?"

"Nope. Go on. We're not getting any fuller."

"…But…"

Purple turned. "Do as you're told." His used a more familiar tone with me than with Skoodge, but his voice still held expectation.

My eyes found the stage, irritation blooming inside me. I worked so hard. Now, I'm going to miss the vote! "Can I please…?"

Red's glare cut me off. "Hannah. I'm not asking you again." And with that, he faced the stage. I seized the platter and the near-empty bucket, stomped toward the door, and gave Skoodge the look I wished to give Red at that moment. The crimson Tallest spoke without turning. "Someone's feeling moody today."

I stifled a growl and a rude reply, in favor of listening to the doors close with a satisfying slam.

Minutes later, I entered the kitchen, still fuming because Zim had gotten his way. To try to take my mind off outside activities, I rolled the dough. The activity actually did calm me a bit. I looked up to see Schnell in front of me, holding out a container of nutmeg. "Rough morning?" His tone didn't expect insincerity.

"Stinking Zim ate the extras I made."

Schnell half-grimaced. "Well, good luck. We still have to listen to quite a few elites."

I sighed. "I know."

The first nutmegged batch baked, while my head filled with floating thoughts about the conference, the surrounding planets, and the next upcoming round of Empire entrance testing. Studying was hard. The batch ended up being overdone. I slammed the tray on the counter and spread more flour on my workspace. "Stupid Zim…why does Purple have to eat three at once?" I looked around and my annoyance spiked. "Hey, who took my cutters?"

No answer.

Are you kidding me?! Five minutes and two cutters later, I slid the next batch into the oven and went for a drink. The refrigerator area, as usual, was madness. Yells of "Where's my meat?" "Timer on burner seven," "You're mixing that wrong," and, "What moron threw cilantro on the Mork?" rang. I wove around people, found a milk jug, and seized a glass from a passing tray. The Tallest's tea is bitter anyway.

A thump, from outside the kitchen doors. A few around me paused to stare as well. Someone: "What was that?"

Seconds passed. Zim probably blew something up. Back at my workstation, my fingers playing in the flour, I wondered what it had been. Most people went back to their work.

An explosive crash that jarred my brain and wiped every thought from my mind. The kitchen doors flew in, air left my lungs, and for a beat, everything was silent.

Screaming. Smoke filled the doorway. Lasers showered in, and everyone flew into action. I swung around the counter. My eyes locked on a cabinet. I climbed inside and slammed the door. From within the dark box, I heard weapons, screams, bangs, rattles, and dropped pans; glasses broke.

"Irken scum!"

My breath caught.

A cookie sheet jabbed my ribs. Death screams at the door. My heart sprinted.

Thuds and scuffles. People shouting. Talking over talking. I couldn't retreat.

"Where is she?"

Casual, spoken to a comrade; but with an alien dialect.

Veins chilled below my sweaty skin. Those three words rang, over and over, in my mind. Red dust. I gulped the cabinet's dwindling air. Claustrophobia. Why?!

A crash, outside. A keening whine escaped me.

"Split up!" A foreign dialect. Closer. "Twelve minutes!"

Twelve minutes?...Oh, the Hall. They'll know. They'll come.

Hope.

But on Mars, they had been too late. Get out, now.

I flipped the switch on my forearm, and the weapon shimmered into visibility. Kicking the door, I thought, this is dangerous, but it's better than getting shot in there.

There were no immediate rebels, so I dove behind the nearest counter. A Paetin stood twenty feet away. A boom from the other side of the room. I winced. Pieces of metal, aluminum, ceramic, food, flew over my head.

Then, next to me landed a piece with shoulders, neck, spine, and a head. A face.

I screamed.

My feet flew toward the exit—about thirty seconds away through the mess.

To my left, lasers. Light, and then ten times the strength of a spasm in my leg.

Somehow, I got out of the kitchen. Footsteps sounded behind me. Bent over, I flung myself around the corner. Distant sounds of Irkens coming. I could reach a door marked Employees Only before the Irkens could reach me. Once inside, pain shot through my calf and my knees hit the floor. The door flew open again behind me. More footsteps, more corners, and I emerged into a storage room.

Cheap, useless stuff. I hobbled towards commemorative glass pile leapt in, scrambled amidst the crashings… the door opened.

The last glasses clinked to a stop.I struggled to control my breathing, straining to hear, hoping for Irken voices. Then, just as silence enveloped the room with me and my pursuer, one Irken voice emanated from my wrist. "Hannah!"

I jolted. Glasses clacked. One glass crashed. I shut off and cloaked it in less than two seconds.

It had been Red.

Footsteps, towards me.

Think.

Think.

Think.

I can shoot him before he sees me.

Glass exploded all around my head. I screamed, and a hand caught my wrist and hauled me out. "Get off of me!"

He twisted both arms behind me and his lips touched my ear. "I swear, if Nar hadn't ordered your capture, you'd be done right now." A cold metal pressed against my temple. "Unless you want them blown apart, obey."

I fought for breath, yearning to hold my leg. "You wouldn't blow up the people with the money...That's stupid!"

"Not them. The others. Move."

We rounded a few corners, my calf pounding, and came upon an exit. I jerked against his hold, but that only hurt me more. "We have thirty seconds. Don't fight and I won't shoot." He craned his neck around the corner.

There's no one here. This is all so bad. I barely registered his signal to move. My leg gave out halfway to the exit. He cursed. "Can't you stay on your feet?!"

Voices, from inside the auditorium. I remember crying as we left the Hall, and a thick hand over my mouth. We were headed for a teleporter.

I struggled as the shout came from an Irken nearby to secure those very machines. Forcing me to hold still, the rebel shoved something rough and grainy against my mouth. A foul scent started my head spinning. My vision rocked. My plea came out a muffled sound. Vomit swirled in my throat. My cheeks smarted. Lights everywhere seemed too bright. My captor was talking. I couldn't open my eyes. The last thing I registered was the teleporter light above, swallowing us up.