After a week at the academy Codi began to warm to the regimented lifestyle. Maybe it was simply because after each punishing day of training she didn’t have the energy to be rebellious anymore, but whatever the case, she found she was enjoying herself.

Vasco’s jibes and his abrasive manner still niggled at her, but after the incident of several days ago she did her utmost not to let her temper out. At least, not on other people. Several dings and dents in the wall and floor of the training centre paid testament to the times she’d failed to keep reign on her emotions. The dumbbells were big, heavy, and made a very cathartic sound when hurled at a hard surface. Better she took out any frustrations that way, however much Vasco complained about the damage.

Things moved at a blistering pace. Even after only a week Codi had the majority of the basic techniques virtually encoded into her movements. When someone took a swing at her in training she didn’t react by thinking, she did it automatically. Nobody was perfect yet; she’d taken and dished out her fair share of punches during the adjustment period, but now it seemed that the group were ready to start moving on to something a little more extreme.

Lined up on Sunday morning, they watched and waited as Vasco arranged a large group of padded mats into a square. After making dozens of minor adjustments he eventually nodded and made an approving mhm. Then he opened up one of the lockers built into the wall of the room and pulled out five black bags. Walking over to the group, he dropped one at the feet of each, and then faced them.

“I’ll say this for you all,” he began. “You’ve done better than I expected. But, it’s one thing to drum all this stuff into you in a controlled environment. It’s time you found out what it’s like to try hitting something that will hit you back.” When the group exchanged looks Vasco gave a vulpine smile. “Sparring time, kids.”

Codi’s eyes lit up and she immediately dropped down on one knee to open the bag. The zip opened with a faint hiss and she delved into the recesses of the bag. Her hand closed around some coarse fabric and she pulled it free. Dangling from her hand was a heavily padded top, woven of a flexible black fabric.

“These are your practice suits,” Vasco explained. “They’re made to fit you specifically; should feel like a second skin. Just stick ‘em on.”

Codi needed no second bidding. In a matter of seconds she pulled the lightweight top over her head and smoothed it down over her body, admiring the suit in the light. It fitted perfectly, just as Vasco described, with harder protecting plates over the shoulders, elbows and chest. The areas between these were padded too, but with softer, more malleable material that didn’t impede her movement in the slightest.

Going back into the back she pulled the rest of the gear free. First she freed a set of padded leggings, similar to the ones she already wore but reinforced along the knee joints and with heavy guards across the thighs and shins. Then she picked out a pair of dark grey gloves padded in the same way, and when she put them on she could feel a firm brace around her wrist. With all the impacts soon to be absorbed this was a welcome addition.

The last item she found in the bag was a helmet…sort of. Once she figured out how to put it on the thing left her face exposed, instead having a kind of frame that protected her jaw and cheekbones. Seeing her confusion at the design Vasco smirked.

“That’s a toned down version of a real Gauntlet head brace,” he said. “They like to be able to see the faces of the fighters, so the frame is designed just to protect the bone structure. That way you can’t do too much serious damage…theoretically.”

“Theoretically?” She gave him an incredulous look.

“There are incidents – injuries – some more serious than others.” Vasco shrugged. “It is a fighting tournament after all.”

“You’re making me feel all better.” Codi rolled her eyes and stood up to examine her attire. Everything felt perfect. Glancing around she saw that the others had suited up and she almost laughed at the sight of Max with the head brace ringing his perplexed features.

“It’s weird,” he murmured. “I can hardly feel I’m wearing it.”

“Okay,” Vasco interjected. “Is everybody all set? Good. It’s time to get some sparring in kids. Codi, Max, you’re up.” He made a sweeping gesture to the mat arrangement behind him. The pair exchanged a look, and then wordlessly obeyed, stepping out onto the mats and facing each other.

A thought struck Codi that this would be the first fight she’d had that didn’t spawn from some dispute, from her own violent temper. It felt strange. Looking back at Max, the boy who seemed afraid to even make eye contact with her, she wondered how he felt about all this. He was competent – she’d even reluctantly give him good – at the exercises, but had no killer instinct, no fire. His attitude simply confused her.

“You both ready?” Vasco asked. They nodded. “Right, now this is just a training spar-,” he glanced pointedly at Codi, “so let’s keep things civil. We’ll have three minute rounds, to either the first fall or till someone steps off the mats.” She shot him a glare but said nothing. Then she dropped into her fighting stance and locked eyes with Max.

Over the past week she’d found a comfortable stance, sitting lower than the others, coiled to burst forward. According to Vasco she was naturally aggressive. She could believe that.

“Fight!” their instructor barked.

She moved instantly, springing towards him and snapping out a jab with her right hand. Max recoiled and blocked in the same motion to deflect the blow, but Codi didn’t stop there. She pressed in, flinging short, sharp attacks at him to force him back. His face was tight with concentration as he defended and manoeuvred himself away from the edge of the mat.

Codi bent her head backwards, narrowly avoiding one of the few retaliatory strikes before surging forward again, trying to limit Max’s height advantage by staying close to him.

Suddenly he stopped backing away and stepped into her, forcing a grapple. She twisted her body away as he moved in and punched him hard in the stomach, but her fist his something hard. He’d been waiting for that blow. As her fist hit he caught her arm in both hands, and before she could react he spun away, dragging her with him. The next instant Codi was flying through the air, and then on her back looking up at him.

“Nice move, Max,” Vasco declared.

Codi glared at her team mate as he extended a hand to help her up. She took the proffered hand, yanked him forward off balance, and then twisted from her position on the floor and kicked his legs out from under him. Max hit the ground beside her with a grunt, and a murmur of surprise rose from the others.

She scrambled upright, looking down at him, then up to Vasco. The instructor frowned but said nothing. Glancing at the other onlookers she saw Lita giving her a dirty look, while the twins just looked baffled. Her attention returned to Max as he picked himself up, a hurt expression on his face.

“I…sorry, but it’s just a spar, Codi,” he said. “Didn’t mean-,”

“It’s not you, Max,” Lita snapped. “Someone needs to learn to lose.”

“Listen, you stuck up pain in the ass,” Codi snarled. “I don’t give a-,”

“Enough!” Vasco roared, silencing them. “All of you just shut up and listen to me. That was not the most sportsmanlike move I’ve ever seen, sure, but if you think that everyone competing in the Gauntlet is going to play fair then you’ve got another thing coming. These people are out to win, and if you’re going to beat them you have to think like they do. Winners don’t always play fair.” Then he looked at Codi. “That being said, this is only a damned practice spar. Max beat you fair and square.”

She knew he was right, but at the same time she had no intention of excusing her actions. Codi glared at the floor and scuffed her feet awkwardly.

“I’ll take that as a ‘sorry’ then,” Vasco grunted. “Alright, back in line you two. Lazlo, Lita, get over here.”

***

That night, Drake Vasco sat in the nearest bar to the Brax-Delta academy, nursing a lukewarm beer while he waited. In his mind he kept running through each of his students and comparing them to the monsters they would likely face in the Gauntlet itself. They simply didn’t match up.

The job as head instructor at the run-down training centre was not highly sought after, but something called Vasco back to the profession after years of absence. Maybe he missed it, or maybe the prospect of an impossible task somehow took the pressure off. Nobody expected Brax-Delta to do well and very few people thought he could change that. When the previous instructor resigned, taking with him the already minimalist support staff, things had looked grim for the academy’s future. Only Vasco’s last minute acceptance of the position kept Brax-Delta running.

Sighing heavily, he took a long draft of the beer and leaned back in his seat. What was the point? The clueless teenagers under his direction would be beaten into the ground when the competition came, and nothing he did could alter that.

“Deep in thought?”

Vasco started, looking up sharply to find Jacob Barrow looking down on him with an impish grin spread across his features.

“You took your time,” he grunted back as Barrow sat down opposite him, beer in hand.

“So how are things going at the academy?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Would I ask if I didn’t?”

“Jake, it’s a waste, the lot of it,” he said, shaking his head despondently. “We just don’t have enough time. The Gauntlet is in three weeks and I don’t have a team. I’ve got a bunch of amateurs with a bone of talent between them.”

“I think you’re being a little harsh,” Barrow replied.

“Do you?” Vasco scoffed. “Let me walk you through my options. The twins are thick as two lead ingots. They’ve got the build for it but they’re picking things up too slowly. A seasoned fighter’ll rip them to pieces. Max picks up the techniques perfectly but he’s as aggressive as a puppy on a morphine pump. Lita’s an arrogant blowhard and the runt you saddled me with is about as controlled and predictable as a damn earthquake. So no, Jake, I don’t think I’m being harsh.” He closed the rant with a swig of beer, and a hollow feeling settled in his stomach when he realised he meant every single word.

Barrow looked at the table, brows creased in thought. “Well, it sounds like you need to do two things. First, speed up the learning curve and second, you need to give them a taste of what the Gauntlet’s really like.”

“How in the hell do you propose I do that?” he exploded. “I’m making them learn as fast as I can but there’s only so much I can do.”

“Run a longer day. Cut down the lunch and dinner breaks. Extend the curfew by an hour.” Barrow shrugged. “That’s what I’d do.”

“I get it, you’re invested in this because of the girl, but she’s not ready either.”

“Make them ready,” he snapped back. “C’mon, Drake, you’re better than this. Don’t tell me you took up this job just to abandon it a few weeks from The Gauntlet? You owe it to yourself to get something after what happened.”

“Spare me the preaching, Jake. I’m not in the mood.” Vasco glared at his friend. “This isn’t about me.”

“I know, it’s about them, the competitors, and you seem to have forgotten that. Now, I have an idea, something that might boost their learning curve a little and give them a reality check. That is, if you’re interested in listening.”

“Alright, spit it out.”

Barrow smiled. “A friendly.”

“A what?”

“A friendly, a pre-Gauntlet fight. Get some of the local system academies to send teams here. Have a little mini-tournament.”

“We can do that?” Vasco asked.

“Why not? Planets with more than one academy do it all the time. I’ll grant you this will be a bit different having an inter-system competition, but there’s nothing in the rules to prevent it.” Barrow spread his arms wide. “It solves your problems. The kids will get a taste of what it’ll be like to fight in the Gauntlet and if they lose they’ll understand how much they need to work. That way if you ramp up the schedule nobody will argue.”

Vasco blinked in surprise, looking at the other man as he took in the words. A friendly. It seemed so simple. He had his reservations about throwing the five novices into a fight against the other academies before he thought they were ready, but Barrow had a point. He’d never make them fully understand the Gauntlet from the confines of the training centre. But there was another problem.

“How am I going to organise this tournament of yours?” he queried. “I can’t spare the time between training.”

“Get Holly to do it.”

“Don’t be daft. She can just about manage the paperwork of the academy, that’s it.”

“Fine way to talk about your own daughter.”

“I tell it like it is.”

“Fine,” Barrow said. “I’ll help her.”

“You?”

“Why not?” He smirked. “Now that Codi’s not at Winnover High anymore I’ve got a lot more time on my hands. I’m just a teacher, so I can’t go to your administrators, but I can help out behind the scenes to organise the tournament.”

“You would do that?”

“Drake,” he replied, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. “One way or another, after this year Kantha will probably never field another Gauntlet team. If this is the end wouldn’t you rather go out with a bang?”

Vasco considered this for a moment before draining the last of his beer and nodding. “Yes I would.”