NEO World of Advent Chapter Ten
Cipher stood in front of the mirror, hair disheveled despite his having woken up hours before in a bid to ensure that he didn't oversleep. The tournament was today. He took in a deep breath, hoping it would calm the frenzy of bundled nerves his mind had become. All the possibilities of failure kept popping up. What if he choked, didn't even make it to the second round? All that time spent at the Dojo could have been spent at the shop. Maybe this was a bad idea; how could he ever have convinced himself that he could win?
"Cipher?" Charles' voice called out from the other side of the door. "You okay? It's alright to be nervous."
"I'm fine," Cipher lied. "Just getting ready." Cipher grabbed the communicator with his registration info on it, taking one last deep breath in his lungs, holding it in until his head felt light and dizzy. He let go of the breath and opened the door. Outside, the entire Family was waiting for him, a handmade banner held by the younger kids, whose liberal use of glitter belied their involvement in its creation.
"However you do out there," Brandon told him, "You're still a kickass Head to us." He received a thwack on the head courtesy of Shirley for his use of a minor curse but held his end of the sign proudly. "Knock 'em silly."
"All that time spent in the Dojo has to count for something, you know?" Kent folded his arms. "There's no need to be nervous. Most of the people in the first round haven't even trained for it, I bet."
"Thanks," Cipher managed, a lump rising in his throat. "I'll make you guys proud."
"We already are," Shirley told him. "This means a lot to you and Joan, right? So just go out there and do your best. That's all you ever asked of us; we turned out pretty well."
"Beat the bad guys up for us, big brother!" The younger kids made a sound halfway between a cheer and a war cry.
"It's not exactly like that," Cipher told them, "But I will."
"Do you really know martial arts stuff," one of the younger kids asked him.
"There's no way he knows how to fight," Matt, the resident kleptomaniac said. "He's way too lame for that." He looked down suddenly, apparently unable to look Cipher in the eye. "But I bet there are even lamer people in the tournament, so don't lose, okay?"
Cipher figured this was Matt's roundabout way of encouragement. "Thanks, rascal. I'll do my best. Don't worry."
"I like the uniform," Clark said. "It's fitting." Cipher turned his shoulder so he could barely make out the emblem Neige had suggested he wear for the joint company he and Joan had agreed to work on together. mergerge between the two businesses would be helpful for the two and Joan said the old name was too long to fit anyway. "Cipher Mechanics and Repair" and "The Forge" became Vulcan forge. The trademark symbol for their new company had the silhouette of a hammer across an active volcano. It wasn't exactly subtle, but Cipher liked it.
"Don't you have to meet Joan out front?" Carla looked at the time. "Like, five minutes ago?"
Cipher gave a yelp, jumping toward the gate, giving one last shout of thanks to his Family before stopping beside Joan. "Sorry about that," he said. "They wanted to wish me luck."
"No worries," Joan said, twirling her hair. It was a habit she did when she was nervous, Cipher knew. "The Forge did one for me as well."
"So this is it, huh?" Cipher let go of another long-held breath. "We're really doing it."
"We just have to wait for our ride," Joan said. "But yeah. We're doing it. I'm going to make my old man proud and show them what the daughter of an ex general can do."
"I won't let you down," Cipher promised her. "Or them. Or me, I suppose." He gave a short laugh. "It's strange. I haven't felt like this in some time."
"It's hope," Joan told him. "If we win, it means no more strained budgets, no more buying cheap food in bulk just to make ends meet. Besides," she said, a hint of her old self showing through the anxiety, "Getting to beat people up is a nice plus."
Cipher grinned. "That it is." The two of them shared a comfortable silence as they waited for their designated ride, a representative from Neo Arcadia, to show up. They were told to wait for a black car flying the Arcadian coat of arms. The stress of the day made time stretch on for longer than it should have felt like, but eventually a black car fitting the description rolled to a stop in front of Cipher's apartment complex.
"Cipher and Joan?" the driver asked.
"Yes, that's us," Joan told him. "Are you here to pick us up?"
`"I'll just need to see some verification of ID," the man told her. "Your communicators should have the right thing for the job."
Cipher and Joan flashed proof of their identity and were soon admitted entrance into the plush seats of the back. There was a window separating the two of them from the driver, but it rolled down just enough so that he could speak to them in person. "There's going to be a video that plays in front of you," he told them. "Pay no attention to the other's video; it won't give you any sort of advantage and will just make you unprepared for your part. Just follow the instructions and you'll do fine. Good luck."
The window rolled back up as a screen fastened to each side of the divided section of the car came to life. "Welcome to the Grand Serena," a professional recording played. "I'm sure you have many questions, which I hope this short instructional program will answer. If not, feel free to ask any Neo Arcadian representative at the help desk and they'll point you in the right direction. Ready? Now…"
The next few minutes were spent going over the basics of the tournament structure, the different brackets between skill level, and what they should expect from their skill level bracket. In short, nothing they didn't know or figure out already, but the cool voice from the recording helped settle their nerves enough for them to sit comfortably and calm their wild thoughts. In what seemed like no time at all, the driver pulled to a stop in front of the Colosseum. "Inside, you'll see some people dressed in black vests with the coat of arms on it," their driver told them. "They'll tell you where to go from here."
Cipher and Joan thanked the man, who complimented them on their matching outfits. Cipher told him it was to endorse their shop as the car pulled out of their space. "It's called Vulcan Forge," he told the man. "In case you were wondering."
Cipher and Joan swallowed what was left of their insecurities and made their way to the entrance, seeking out the promised helpful people in vests. The appointed people weren't hard to find, with an apparently innate ability to pick out actual contenders in the tournament from the crowd. It wasn't until later that Cipher realized that their flashy outfits might have had something to do with it.
"Follow me," one of them said, taking a brisk pace toward a gated area. The reploid manning the gate saw them coming, granting them access with a quick flick of a switch. The gate slid open as their guide passed through with a quick jerk of the neck to make sure Cipher and Joan were still behind him.
"Your uniforms are regulation standard correct?" The man made an abrupt stop. "Never mind, I will check. So many think they can get away with substandard protection," he explains as he waves a device over their suits for the shielding that all registered fighters were required to have. "Good. Now," he said, "Take these. Don't pick at them or take them off." He handed them each a metal bracelet with a black screen running along its length.
"What are these for?" Cipher gave the bracelet a curious glance.
"They will tell you which division you will be taking a part in," the man told them. "More people registered than we had expected, so we divided your bracket into further ones until we thin the numbers out. It'll be explained in more detail soon."
"Where?" Joan looked around at the multiple openings that could lead anywhere. "I wish they told us about this beforehand."
"They never make this simple," their guide said aggravatedly. "They should have given you a tour or something beforehand. Listen, just go straight," he told them. "Don't make any turns until you see the sign that reads 'Registered Only.' It's not hard to miss."
Joan thanked the man, who seemed impatient to return to his post as Cipher took a screenshot of a nearby venue map in case his directions were less than perfect. As it transpired, they soon found out, there was no need for it. They found the sign with an arrow leading into a well lit room with hundreds of other people crowding what looked like a theater.
"Cipher?" a voice asked from nearby. It was Sorra, the girl he had bumped into earlier and mistaken him for the Resistance kid. "So you are attending after all!"
Cipher felt extremely awkward as the energetic girl gave him an enthusiastic hug. "Er hi. Sorra, right? Are you competing?"
The girl shook her head as Joan stiffened beside him. "Who is this?" Joan asked Cipher icily. She said 'this' as though one might about a particularly aggravating stain.
"Oh no, I'm not competing," the girl told Cipher. "I'm just here to help smooth things along." She turned to face Joan, a puzzled look on her face. "We just bumped into each other," Sorra said. "Are you his girlfriend?"
Uh oh. Cipher felt his ears go hot as he wished he could be anywhere else at this point in time. He braced himself for whatever might come of this, fervently wishing either Sorra or Joan would stop giving each other dagger-like glares from behind their backs.
"No," Joan said, "I'm his friend. His oldest friend, actually. We worked together with our Families. How did you two meet again?"
"Nothing important," Sorra said smoothly. "I wish you good fortune in your fight," she said as she left. "I have to make sure Neo Arcadia knows that Zero's going to be here."
"Zero's going to be here?" Even a brief, if intense rivalry could not prevent Joan from getting excited from hearing about her childhood idol. "How do you know?"
"I work for the Resistance," Sorra said. "Remind me," she added, "What was it that you did again?"
Steam was literally pouring out of Joan's ears as Sorra left the area as Joan's oversol leaked out unintentionally. "Don't let her get to you," Cipher warned her. "Save it for the match."
Joan took in a deep breath, relaxing slightly. "You're right. You don't actually know her, do you?"
"Not really," Cipher said. "We just ran into each other when she was delivering something to the shop. I haven't even heard from her since."
"She seemed rather nosy for someone who doesn't even know you," Joan remarked. "I hope we don't have to see her again."
Cipher held back a frustrated groan. This is what Charles had been warning him about, he was sure. He hadn't even done anything! Why Sorra even remembered him at all was a mystery. "Whatever," he said. "Let's just get this over with."
Inside the room, there was a low hum of activity, people striking up conversations with their rival fighters or pointedly ignoring them. Some of the people were completely at ease in the environment, while some had already reserved spots by the trash cans, their complexions a sickly green. Cipher figured he was somewhere in the middle.
"Hey," Joan said, pointing at her wrist. The bracelet she was given now shone a number - 1339 - on what used to be a blank screen. "Check yours out. It might have something to do with this thing starting soon."
Cipher checked his, showing a flashing 4572 to Joan. Others had noticed the change as well, taking their metallic accessories off and examining them. Sure enough, the lights dimmed as someone walked up on the stage below. "Welcome, one and all," the man said in a booming voice. "My name's Hector. I'll be the announcer for the evening's events, but for now I'll stick to telling you all what to do. I'm sure you're tired of being turned around all the time; there's a reason for that if you let me explain." He cleared his throat as he waited for the noise to settle.
"We of the Committee overseeing this event needed to make sure no one had any sort of unfair advantage over any of your fellow contenders. Each phase of your getting here was handled by someone who knew even less than you do about who you'd be fighting, or how. Now that's over; we're all standing here in the same room. No need for secrecy if we all know the secrets, right?" Hector gestured to a screen above him, which changed to fit a view of four different brackets.
"You all have been sorted into four different categories," Hector said, "In order to accommodate the unexpectedly large number of participants this evening. The 1000's will be fighting the 1000's, the 2000's the 2000's and so on. Got it? Good. Now, check your bracelets," the man said. "In addition to your number, your opponent's name will now be displayed. You have a few minutes left to talk amongst yourselves or find your opponent. Your bracelet will grow warmer in the presence of your designated challenger. You have thirty minutes to find out as much as you can; after that, the games begin for real. That means in thirty minutes, select players will duke it out in the Colosseum. You'll all get your turn; don't worry."
Hector tapped his microphone twice before hopping off stage. As soon as he had left, the place was abuzz with activity once more, magnified by their attempts to shy away from or locate their opponent.
"I guess we'd better do something," Joan said. "I'll go find my opponent; I think you should do the same."
"Agreed." Cipher followed the rising temperature of his bracelet, stopping as it phased hot and cold in the presence of someone whose bracelet blinked in a similar manner. A quick glance read "Cipher" on the man's bracelet.
"Oh good," the man said. He was tall and lanky, and in his late twenties, by the looks of it. "Another human; I thought I was going to have to fight a reploid first." He held out his hand to shake Cipher's.
"You must be Joe. I'm actually an Advent," Cipher said as he shook the offered hand. "So half right." Oddly, the man's hand slipped away unnaturally fast as soon as Cipher had said so. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Did I say something?"
"It's er, nothing." The man fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's just that we're opponents and all. I shouldn't have been so friendly. I thought I might get a fair fight is all."
"I don't see how it could be unfair," Cipher said, looking around him. There was a healthy amount of sportsmanship to be sure, but overall, the atmosphere seemed pleasantly charged. "Reploids and Advents aren't even allowed use of their powers this round and weapons are provided in the stadium."
"It's not you." A third party entered their small conversation - a human (or Advent?) with jet black hair and a weathered face. "It's him. You're one of those Purist people, aren't you?" he asked the lanky Joe.
Joe's face hardened. "What's it to you?"
"Nothing much," the stranger said. "I just don't take kindly to people looking down on my species for no good reason. Why did a human like you come here in the first place? They may have made it so that people like you could win one round, but what will you do when the restriction on power is lifted? Picket them to death?"
"Forget this." Cipher's opponent stormed off. "I didn't come here to be interogatted."
"Thanks," Cipher said slowly, still trying to process what had just happened. "Who are you again?"
"The name's Harley," he said. "I'm an Advent too, obviously. You probably didn't know it, but there are a good number of people who aren't happy with us existing at all. That scumbag over there is one of them."
"I'm aware." Cipher told Harley about how he had to cancel some of the younger kid's trips to school in the wake of an Anti-Advents' rights group causing a disturbance on the way.
"So you're a Family Head?" Harley looked impressed. "That takes a lot of guts to do. Our kind would be lost without you guys, you know."
"Really?" Cipher scratched his head shyly. "It's not that big of a deal, is it?"
"It is," Harley informed him. "Without people willing to look after the unwanted Advents, we'd be stuck who-knows-where. Places where they could get to us," he added, thumb jerking in Cipher's malcontent contender's direction.
"I didn't realize it was that bad," Cipher said. "I know Umbrians aren't exactly welcome, but I had no idea it was this widespread."
Harley gave him a grave nod. "A lot of people can't get over the fact that Umera created Advents. A lot of the firstborn Advents were wanted, yeah, but most of them these days are from his experimenting with different gene pools. The people don't like the idea of potentially having an illegitimate child running around. So instead of facing that reality, they condemn us, as if we had a hand in being born at all." Harley's voice took on a dark tone.
"I'm sure it won't get too bad," Cipher told him. "There are a few bad eggs with the politicians, but other than Senator Crux, I don't see anyone else trying to prohibit Advents from getting fair treatment."
"You never know. Even though Advents were designed to be the bridge between humanity and reploids, there will always be those who find something wrong about it." Harley paused. "Anyway, I should probably stop bothering you. I hadn't intended to go there; sorry about that."
"It's no problem," Cipher told him. "It's better to be in the know about these things."
Harley nodded appreciatively. "Good luck out there, Cipher. I wish you and your Family the best."
Cipher waved his new friend goodbye, wondering if Joan had experienced anything like that while trying to find her opponent. Before he could locate her to ask, the lights dimmed once more, and Hector took to the stage again. "I hope you found that illuminating," Hector said as the spotlights shone on the board above him. "Because the real thing starts now!" The four brackets started whirring, numbers being matched as those assigned those numbers stepped forth. A good thirty people were chosen between the brackets for the first round. Cipher noticed with a start that Joan's number was one of them.
Rounds lasted an average of fifteen minutes before another shift was phased in. Cipher could hear Hector's booming voice from all the way inside, even if he couldn't make out what was being said. He strained his ears constantly for any word of Joan's success. He didn't even want to think about her having failed. Cipher had to snap himself out of his reverie as the next round of the 1000's were called, his number along with it. He moved forward as the crowd parted to make way for the next contestants beside his own opponent, who refused to look him in the eye.
The two of them were led into a different corridor as the others were led into other sections, likely to host fights simultaneously. The two shared an angry silence before being pushed outside, the customary "Good luck!" heralding the end of their journey. Their stage was a small one, with weapon racks on either end, a line drawn in the middle with different markings to designate where they should first stand. On the end of the stadium, Joe sneered. "You're going down, Advent," he said.
"I don't think so," Cipher said coolly. Hector's voice boomed unnaturally loud around them as he announced the beginning of their fight. "One round, one shot at glory," he said in the mic. "In the left corner, we have Joe, representing humanity! In the right, we have Cipher, Head of an Advent Family! Which is stronger, folks? An iron will or bones of steel? Let's find out!"
The buzzer sounded, and the match began. Joe ran toward Cipher, but left too many openings. Either he had thought Cipher an easy opponent or let his prejudice toward Cipher get the better of him; it was a simple matter for Cipher to trip the man, placing a boot on his chest when he hit the ground.
There was a collective silence as the crowd took in the record-time victory. "I guess we found out," Hector said with a laugh. "Better luck next time, Joe!" But Joe wasn't done yet. When Cipher let go of him, he balled his fists, shouting up at the gregarious announcer.
"That wasn't a fair fight!" Joe protested. "They shouldn't allow half breeds anyway. I want a rematch. Against someone human," he added.
"Whoops," Hector said. "My guess is he took the fall a little harder than we thought. Don't worry folks, we'll have him checked out in no time. In the meantime, why not take this break to enjoy some nice Blue Mist? The only sports drink endorsed by the Four Guardians!"
Joe was led off stage rather forcibly by the attendants beside the gate, who marched him out with surprising grace. Cipher shook his head at the fleeing form of the man. How many others were there like him in the city? Cipher was led back inside, told that he had one more match before the day was over and to not expect it to be as easy as the last one. Sure enough, Cipher found himself facing a reploid who introduced himself as Scissors. His twin long energy blades protruding from his arms were padded with some sort of material that dulled the impact. Hector announced that while the restrictions of the first match had been lifted, the danger the twin blades represented on their own were too much to let in without some restrictions.
"Hey there!" he said cheerily. "That was quite a scene back there."
"No kidding," Cipher said. "So I take it you're a combat reploid?"
The reploid nodded. "Sure am! Designed in the Weil era to keep the people in line. I mostly kept them safe though, helped the people out of the city if they wanted it."
"That's pretty cool," Cipher said. "It's an honor. My name's Cipher."
"Alright, Cipher! Let's do this like Flare wants and have 'a fight that ignites the spirit!' Hoo ha!" He raised his scissor like appendages in excitement. Cipher readied his pose as Hector gave them the okay to fight.
This fight was different from the last one, Cipher noticed. He and Scissors circled each other as the reploid slowly advanced. Cipher eyed the long blades carefully, unprepared when he let out a sharp kick. Cipher sidestepped toward the weapon racks, figuring his only shot at getting past those blades would be with a weapon of his own. A quick swipe of the nearest one - a saber - and Cipher blocked an incoming swing with a surprising amount of finesse. The blade felt right in his hands for some reason.
Now that it was Cipher's turn to push forward, he moved forth with calculated deliberateness, keeping his opponent's namesake at bay. He had to use his oversol more than a few times, selectively covering any areas that would have been hit by his opponent's precise strikes. His blades may have been dulled, but the discrepancy between their skill levels was becoming clear: while this was Cipher's first time wielding a blade, Scissors was an experienced fencer. It was only through activating his oversol to a painful degree - up to his elbows each, that he found the strength and speed to tap each side of Scissors' arms with his own blade, ducking just in front of the reploid's body to do so.
Scissors' vest turned orange with each hit and the arm that was struck froze accordingly, probably to imply "loss of limb." He stood there dumbly at his useless arms, letting out a grimace of defeat. "I don't suppose you'd stay still long enough for me to kick you?" he asked.
"Sorry but no," Cipher informed him, saber leveled at Scissors' chest. Hector declared the fight a victory in Cipher's favor as his opponent's vest loosened up. The reploid flexed his limbs before congratulating Cipher.
"That was some fancy footwork," he said. "I never thought I'd lose in a sword fight! Hey, good luck with that store of yours, Vulcan or whatever."
"Vulcan Forge," Cipher told him. "And thanks! You did great out there. I thought I was going to lose, to be honest."
"Well don't let my loss be in vain," Scissors said. "Aim for the top! I want to have lost to the best."
Cipher grinned and the two shook hands, Scissors' blades folding to make a fist. "I won't," Cipher said. "I'm aiming for the top."
"You'd better be," Scissors said. "I want to say I lost to the champ! Don't disappoint me, ya hear?"
The two were led off stage, where they were told they could go home, having completed their respective rounds. Outside, Joan was looking around worriedly. She ran towards Cipher as he approached her.
"Did you win? I won, but I guess that doesn't matter. You won right? Right?"
"Calm down," Cipher said. "Yeah, I won. Both rounds."
Joan cheered. "Me too! We're moving up." She punched Cipher in the shoulder. "Don't make me worry like that. I've been waiting for ages."
"Hey," Cipher said, "I can't help when they let me fight. It's not my fault you were the first one chosen."
"Well, you'd better make it up to me by being my opponent in the finals," Joan said dismissively. "You only have my permission to lose then, got it?"
"Alright," Cipher said. "Let's do our best to win this thing."
"Oh yeah." The two of them walked toward the exits in high spirits as Joan talked about some of the other matches. "Did you know this one guy lost in the first ten seconds of the match? Kind of deserved it from what I heard, but still."
"Nah," Cipher said, "He got what was coming to him."
"How would you know?" Joan asked him. "I thought your match just ended."
"That was my match," Cipher admitted. "It wasn't anything special, really. This other guy though, he had giant blades for arms, like a mantis…"
