Hello people. Sorry for the late posting of this new chapter. was having my examinations and was also revising the plot for this story. Now that thats settled, i expect to go full speed ahead with my story. Sorry again for the late posting and happy reading. Thanks for all the reviews, they were a great encouragement!
Chapter 4
Edmund and his three ex team mates were shipped to New Earth, the heart of the Liandri Corporation and home to the tournaments. Edmund and his ex marines were allowed to wander, for the Liandri had no fear of escaping off world tournament players. Once you were sent there, you could not get out. Not without the blessing of the Liandri. The Liandri controlled all traffic heading out of New Earth. You could not escape. After arriving there, Edmund, Lee and Sud were separated. Edmund was given a room. Nothing too fancy, just like his old one, not too small, not big and not wasting any inch of the room. Edmund had been in New Earth for one week already. The Liandri said they would send someone to tell him what to do soon enough. Edmund was getting impatient.
Finally, instructions did come. Not in the form of a man, but in the form of a letter. It simply said "Qualification Rounds. Tomorrow. Get ready."
Edmund's eyes bulged with indignation. How was he going to get ready when he knew nothing from the match, except from the few matches he's seen on the holovideos? But perhaps what if that was all there is to know? Grab weapon, find enemy, kill? Quickly, Edmund searched the room and found what he was searching for. Past screenings of the Unreal Tournament. Edmund studied the videos with interest, and as he did, whatever curiosity he had for his ex-team mates conditions vanished.
The night came and went. And a new morning had come. Edmund was well up before then. The tournament was scheduled for nine local time. By eight, Edmund had put on the armor that was given to him when he first set foot in New Earth. It was light, and the color was blue. It certainly did not give his as much protection as his marine armor, so Edmund would have to remember to do more dodging.
In the silence of his room, Edmund slipped on the breastplate and secured it using the strap that went around his waist. Two more straps, from the bottom right of his front, over the left shoulder and to the bottom right of his back, and the other vice versa. Edmund slipped on the almost military issue army boots and the long green beret pants. He noted the many pockets and surmised they were for ammo for the weapons he would find there.
Edmund continued to put on the shoulder guards and the knee guards, and when he was done, he looked in the mirror, for vanity's sake. Not bad. I look like some rugged mercenary for hire, Edmund thought bitterly. Once I was a respectable marine, now I'm a mercenary. Have I really sunk that low?
Edmund stepped out of his room to find a man waiting for him. He was dressed in Liandri Tournament uniform. He looked young, too young.
"Well about time. Hurry up, we've got to make it to the arena. If we're lucky I'll have at least half an hour to brief you."
Oh? Now you want to brief me? Aloud, Edmund muttered the word "okay"
"Oh? A quiet one, are you? Here, turn left. Well, the first match you're in now is a death match, and u need five kills to win. Turn right. And the match will probably be one on one, as this is your first. How does it feel for it being your first? Something like a first battle eh? Or a first date? Boy, I sure don't envy you people up there. Fighting and dieing and.."
The 'briefing' went on. But Edmund was no longer listening. He was composing his emotions. He would stay calm throughout the fight, and not let feelings overrule him. Unlike most players he's seen on the videos, Edmund planned to think rationally and carefully before making a move. He suspected that would be the best way to win. A cool, efficient killer.
Edmund was lead at last to a great door, which was shut tight. Behind the iron doors, Edmund could already hear the cheering of mad crowds. He had seen enough of these tournaments on the holovids. Two opponents at the opposite end of the coliseum, with the teleporting engine in the middle.
"Right, the guy you're going against today is Smasher, an old timer who has been here for three years. He has always tried to enter the tournaments, but has never seemed to make it beyond the qualifying rounds." The young man nudged at Edmund.
"Shouldn't be much of a problem for you right? With your marine background. The crowd hates this guy. He's cowardly for one thing. A real conservative type. That's why he keeps losing the matches that's what I say."
Edmund listened intently. From what he was hearing, Edmund was creating his own conclusions. If this Smasher was so careful, he should be an enemy to be reckoned with, not scorned. This Smasher would not be making mistakes.
There was a loud clang, the sound of gears grinding against gears as the steel reinforced doors opened. Light flooded into Edmund's eyes as sight took his breath away. The coliseum was bigger than he anticipated, there must be hundreds, no, thousands of people out there watching him. They roared and cheered as they waited for Edmund to come out. The announcer began calling for his name.
As Edmund prepared to step out, the young man shouted to be heard above the din. "This is a qualifying round! The one who first scores five kills wins the match! Good luck!"
Edmund nodded and walked through the door way. Instantly, the cheering increased. However, there were the odd few booing, evidently Smasher was not without his own supporters. Edmund walked down the catwalk, trying to look confident and waving a little at the crowds.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Today's qualifying match will be held at Gael, where Smasher the old timer will face off with Edmund, an ex-marine. This should prove to be an exciting, adrenaline filled match. Gael is but smallest arena we have, square with an elevated catwalk, each fighter must use whatever small crates and pillars to hide and evade the enemy. Often, one turns around only to stare down the muzzle of the opponents Assault Rifle!"
The crowd cheered louder. Edmund could not help but wince. Was this the type of people he was dying to protect as a marine? Bloodthirsty and savage with no sense of decency? What was the universe becoming to?
Edmund walked up and stood within the teleporter, directly opposite his opponent Smasher. Smasher's eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. His hair was short cropped and mostly white. The young man back there was right, Smasher had seen too many seasons. Smasher wore armor almost identical to his, albeit it was dirty white instead.
For some reason unknown even to himself, Edmund liked and respected this man. I will be just like him. I will stand tall even if I never make it past the qualifying rounds. I will keep dignity and integrity. The Liandri can take their publicity and drama acting all to hell.
Edmund threw a sharp salute. "Good luck sir!" Smasher's white brow's arched upwards in curiosity. In all his years in the tournament, the last thing he expected to look for from an opponent was a salute. So he saluted back.
"You too kid." Smasher smiled.
"LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"
Edmund shut his eyes against the blinding light of the teleporting rays. He felt as if he was about to be torn apart, his limbs stretched and pulled. And suddenly, everything was quiet. Edmund heard nothing, and saw nothing, except for the stars of the galaxy. He felt a moment of bliss. Edmund felt no anger nor sorrow. No joy nor pain. He felt nothing. Then he heard a voice. And he felt fear.
"Finally, you have come. I have been waiting for you. Edmund Ross..."
Edmund screamed.
