Fantasy Game

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Orson Scott Card's books.

Chapter Two

Mystery

Ender walked down the empty hallways of Battle School, his mind too occupied with the events of the past few weeks to pay any attention to the silence. How many battles had they fought in so far? He'd lost count. This army had been given to him, he'd been made a commander. As if that wasn't unbelievable enough so early in the game, they were bending the rules. No, not bending. Flat out breaking them.

They'd put every odd against him. Given him launchies and transfers, the ominous Dragon Army that had once been eliminated for its failure to compete, made him fight every single day. But they'd battled valiantly. He could trust his toon leaders.

Which was why he needed fresh blood. He trusted his toon leaders too much, in a way. They were predictable. He knew what they could and couldn't manage, but what he didn't have any idea of was Bean's abilities. In the beginning of the army's formation, Bean had expressed a desire to be a toon leader. Little Bean—what was he, three and a half feet tall? Maybe five years old? Approaching him like an adult would, speaking words straight out of a dictionary. It was eerie.

But it wasn't enough to convince Ender. This boy, Bean, they had said, was like a mini Ender. Apparently his scores were higher than Ender's. He had a knack for strategy and hacking, like Ender did. For some reason, though, Ender never ran into the kid during his launchy days. It was almost like the kid was avoiding him. Not that Ender cared. He'd always been busy, training kids in the free time they had, keeping up with studies.

Now Bean was still a mystery, but a more intriguing one. Prove yourself, Ender had told him, and I'll make you a toon leader. Bean had done more than proven himself. The kid was not to be underestimated for his size, that was apparent from the start. Not only that, though, but he was fast and saw the battle as a whole. Most soldiers focused on what was happening to directly affect them—an enemy about to shoot, a frozen soldier drifting towards them, all the things that didn't matter. Worrying about their standings, shooting aimlessly to improve their scores. Bean wasn't like that. In one of the battles he'd launched himself out in what looked like clear suicide, giving them an advantage and freezing eleven opposing soldiers.

Bean was like Ender, because he knew the truth. When it came down to it, all they had was the Buggers and humanity. Not Dragon and all of the other armies pitted against one another. So in a way, it wasn't the brilliant maneuvers and clever thinking of Bean that made Ender decide to finally give him a position of power; it was his outlook on the future. Anyone who knew the truth was worth training harder.

And Ender was confident that Bean wouldn't screw anything up. He hadn't given him any reason to doubt so far.

He reached the game room, opened the door. It was virtually empty. Ender grinned to himself. Everyone was so busy plotting the demise of his army that they had no better use for free time now. He wasn't thinking this because he was conceited, of course. He knew the truth. The whole school knew. The teachers knew. It wasn't an accident that the Dragon Army was getting such a big reputation.

Then he heard a scream.

"I was four years old," a voice said desperately. A sob echoed through the game room. "I didn't know, Poke, I didn't know…"

The sound led Ender to a dark, remote corner of the game room. He looked at the screen and instantly recognized it as the fantasy game; looked at the kid staring at the screen in anguish and recognized him as the very kid he'd been coming to see. But Bean was beyond sucked into the game. He didn't acknowledge Ender's presence, and Ender could understand why.

He peered at the screen. It was a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, his face menacing and cruel, his stature intimidating. But it was different. It wasn't the fantasy game. This kid knew Bean, was walking around and talking to him—kicking him! Bean flinched, crying out. How was this happening?

In horror he looked at Bean's face. It was bloody and tear-stained, etched with guilt and despair. His small frame was hunched over the game, not even touching the controls. He was talking to the kid in the game. Ender gasped. Now the game could really hurt people? Or was it just Bean? Yes, Ender had felt pain in the fantasy game before, but it always stopped as soon as he quit.

"Leave me alone." The tiny voice was barely a whisper. It didn't sound human. "You're not real…"

The boy's lips moved. Something offended Bean. He leapt out of the seat, lunged towards something that wasn't there, yelling in frustration.

"Bean?" Ender said softly, trying to snap him out of it.

Bean landed on the screen with a thud, still transfixed with the game. His eyes were glazed over, wet with unshed tears.

"Bean!" he repeated, louder this time.

Bean whipped around, looking stricken and panicked. Blood trickled from his jaw. One of his eyes was a sickly yellow, a bruise forming fast. He didn't seem to be breathing for a second or two.

"Bean, what the hell—?" he was cut off. Bean gasped for air, doubled over and clutched at his stomach. A low moan escaped him, but he quickly sucked it back in. He fell back into the chair from the game, shaking.

"What the hell happened?" Ender asked.

Slowly, as if it pained him (not that it would be surprising, considering his condition), Bean looked up and faced Ender. Shock flooded his face first. He coughed, spitting out more blood onto his uniform. He swiped at his eyes, trying to eliminate the tears, then stared at his hand for a moment in disbelief. Then he leapt up and looked back at the game in disgust and shame.

"I don't know," he admitted, standing up straighter. He winced.

"Who did this to you?" Ender pried, fury starting to rise in his chest. Of course this would happen to the littlest kid in his army. Those cowards. Probably from Salamander. They were angry with the Dragon Army for whooping their asses, so they went for the defenseless one.

Bean shuddered.

"Bean, tell me."

The boy bit his lip. "The game," he said softly.

"The boy in the game?" Ender frowned. "But the game can't…"

Bean shivered, clearly distraught. "That's what I thought. It's the first time…I've ever played," he said, still clutching to his stomach miserably. "I hate it."

"So do I," Ender agreed, remembering Peter in the mirror.

He waited until Bean caught his breath to see if he wanted to talk about it, but the kid remained silent. "I'm sorry," he finally muttered. "That was really stupid."

"No, it wasn't. You're hurt." Ender paused. "Who was that boy?"

Bean shook his head, laughed bitterly. "Some kid on the streets of Rotterdam," he said as his only explanation. He shakily rose to his feet, cringing, and walked towards the exit. "It doesn't matter."

"You need to find a nurse," Ender called out after him.

"It doesn't matter," Bean repeated.

Ender's eyes lingered on the seat Bean was sitting in. Blood. The seat was decorated with a small pool of wet blood.

"He played the fantasy game."

"Who played?"

"You know who I'm talking about. Bean. The only kid in the history of Battle School to refuse the game. He played it in the game room."

"Oh, gee, that's great, Graff. Let's get some tea and call it a night."

"This isn't some joke. You realize how long we've been trying to get into this kid's head?"

"I've been a part of it, I would know. So what did he see?"

"It wasn't just what he saw. You know the other boy in Rotterdam, that Achilles? The one we have a file one?"

"That nun of yours doesn't want him in."

"Exactly. Bean saw his picture, the one from our files."

"So?"

"And then it moved."

"Moved?"

"Walked, talked, beat him up."

"The game can't do that. The kid couldn't have possibly…are you saying the game attacked a student here in the Battle School?"

"He was alone in the game room. Wiggin found him. Bean was beaten up by the game, under the guise of some kid named Achilles. Crying. Bleeding."

"So the kid can cry."

"We thought he wasn't human."

"No, you thought he wasn't human. Graff, he's a kid, don't forget that. He's human. He's only had a gene altered."

"Right."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Let's just wait and see how this plays out."

"How bad was the kid beaten up?"

"Black eye, bruised stomach, a few lost teeth. A headache that's bound to hurt a few days, I'm sure. But he'll be back to the game, I'm sure of it. No one plays that game and doesn't come back for it."

"No one's ever waited so long to play the game, either."

"Like I said. Let's just wait."

"And risk him getting hurt even worse the next go round?"

"It's a risk we'll have to take. Meanwhile, get me a file on that Achilles kid. I need more information on him."

Okay, I have a resounding number of...no reviews. But the stats thing said I at least had fifteen people read it. Whoever you are, fifteen people, at least tell me what you thought, even if you only read the first line! I'm aware that I'm not really staying true to the characters. Bean was all hard ass in the book, but I wanted him to act more like the little kid he was--hence, this abomination was born! So please review. Even if only to say "I read it." It would make me happy to get SOME sort of feedback. Otherwise I'll just keep posting chapters and annoying the hell outta everyone in the Orson Scott Card category of fanfic :D :D. Love y'all.
(evil demonic glare of doom)