50. Too Close

“You want this to be about the people. The underdogs. I get that. But what you haven’t noticed is that’s exactly what we’ve given you.”

When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell. 

Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may. 

After all...I can't fix stupid.

Previously: Alhannah faced off in the Trench’s brutal first round against four fierce S.L.A.G. pilots. Despite a malfunction and brutal aerial attacks, she used cunning and force to survive—barely—securing one of three victory slots. Back at the warehouse, tensions rose as Chuck's health declined, and Wendell struggled with his fading connection to the old wizard, the pressure of the Games, and a seal still lost to time.

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Winning isn’t everything.
But when you end up losing, it usually feels like it.

I shifted in the chair again, and Dax jabbed me in the arm when no one was looking.

“Sit still,” he grumbled.

I frowned back at him, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t help it. The guy made me nervous.

Philburt Bellows had called a press conference as soon as the Trench event had ended. The media practically mobbed Alhannah the moment she dropped from her S.L.A.G. Dozens of reporters and cameramen crammed into the boardroom like sardines, all trying to get a clear shot of the returning champion.

I wasn’t surprised when the woman in the red blazer shoved her way to the front.

Rishima Geebler.

Alhannah had warned me about her before the games even started. Dax had gone a step further—calling her a gnome-shaped parasite with a press pass and a poison tongue.

I don't think he likes her much.

Apparently, she’d covered the Trench since season one, and no matter how much fans loved the game, everyone knew Rishima loved tearing pilots apart even more. Her reputation was infamous: sensational stories, invasive questions, and enough drama to fuel five soap operas. And now she was staring daggers at Alhannah like she’d smelled blood in the water.

And of course, WHRN’s nosiest anchor with the loudest mouth—had taken over the meeting. She shoved her competitors aside without so much as an apology, grilling Alhannah with question after question.

But Alhannah? Cool as a block of glacial stone. Gave just enough answers to keep from getting booted, and nothing more.

When Rishima realized she wasn’t going to get the juicy meltdown she wanted for her show, she stormed out—only to turn her claws on Bellows instead.

Now the business mogul stood with his back to us, head low, the glow of the fireplace painting him in dancing oranges and reds. The silence made me uneasy, like something terrible was about to be announced. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. Emotionless.

“This is precisely what I was trying to avoid.”

Alhannah stood like a statue, arms folded. She didn’t budge when Bellows turned and looked at her.

“You have no comment?” he asked.

“What do you want me to say?” she replied, cool as ever. “I wasn’t disqualified, which means I didn’t lose—so why are we here, Bellows?”

“You’re here because I think you need to be reminded of our agreement. I made sure you had the money required to enter the competition in exchange for your success. I told you that I was investing in people… which included more than just your ego, young lady.”

She snarled. “Now wait just a—”