Warcross (Warcross #1)(29)

Or maybe he just doesn’t like me very much. I bristle at the thought. Fine. I don’t like him all that much, either.

Besides, I don’t need to like a client in order to work for him. I certainly don’t like the police who I’ve worked for. All I have to do is my job, keep him updated on my progress, and catch Zero before anyone else does. All I have to do is get the bounty.

Ten million dollars. I think of Dad, sitting up late at night after he thought I’d gone to bed, resting his head wearily in his hands, staring at a never-ending stack of overdue bills. I think of him staring blearily at a glowing screen, placing yet another bet with money he didn’t have, hoping that this time, this time, he’d win it big.

Ten million dollars. I could win it big. I’d never have to worry about debt again. I could be safe for life. If I win this bounty, everything changes. Forever.

A message dings in my view as we pull up to my hotel. It’s from Kenn.


Miss Chen! I don’t know what you said to him in there, but . . . well done.

Well done? For what?



You should know that Hideo has never hired someone that quickly. Ever.

Really? I thought I annoyed him.



Everyone thinks that. Don’t mind him. Look for a gift at your front door. Hideo had it sent for you the instant you left his office.

After that meeting, it’s hard to believe what Kenn is saying.

Thanks.



Welcome to the team.

By the time Jiro drops me off and I make my way up to my suite, the gift—a beautiful box made of black suede—is already sitting on my desk. Next to it is a glossy envelope emblazoned with a gold stamp of the Warcross logo. I stare at it for a long moment, then bend down and open the box.

It’s a brand-new, limited-edition electric skateboard, sleek and light, painted in elegant black and white. I test the weight of it in my hands, disbelieving, and then toss it down and hop on it. It responds to me like a dream.

Hideo’s bodyguards must have told him about my old, beat-up skateboard. This board is easily worth fifteen thousand dollars. I’d eyed it in catalogues before, fantasized about how it might ride.

I read the card included in the box.

For you. See you at the Wardraft.

H.T.

One second, he’s interrogating me. The next, he’s sending gifts. My eyes go from the note to the envelope next to the box. Just a couple of days ago, I’d been standing in front of my apartment, looking in despair at a bright yellow eviction notice. Now I reach out for the envelope, tear it open, and pull out a thick, heavy black note with gold print.

Miss Emika Chen

is officially invited to participate

in the Wardraft as a Wild Card

on March 3rd

? ? ? ? ?

I’VE WATCHED THE Wardraft every single year. It always takes place in the Tokyo Dome a week after the all-star opening ceremony, with a packed stadium of fifty thousand screaming fans and all eyes trained on the wild-card players sitting in the stadium’s front rows, circling the central arena. One by one, the sixteen official Warcross teams choose their top picks from the wild cards.

Warcross fans know most of the wild cards by heart, because the wild cards tend to be some of the highest-scoring players in the game, those who are constantly on the leaderboards and have millions of followers. Last year, the number one draft pick was Ana Carolina Santos, representing Brazil. The year before that, Poland’s Penn Wachowski, who now plays for Team Stormchasers, was picked first. And the year before that, it was South Korea’s Ki-woon “Kento” Park, who currently is on Team Andromeda.

But I’m used to watching this madness unfold from home, with my glasses on. This time, I’m going to be sitting in the front row of the Tokyo Dome.

My hands shake now as the car pulls into the streets near the dome. My eyes stay transfixed on the scenery outside. If Times Square had seemed crazy about Warcross, it’s nothing compared to Tokyo. Through my contact lenses, the entire main intersection of Shibuya is alight with hovering screens, rotating through each wild card’s photo and showing clips from past drafts. Thousands of screaming fans cluster in the streets below. The car drives through a special, blocked-off section where a squadron of police guides us through. As we pass by, people on the sidewalks wave at each of our cars, their faces lit with excitement. They can’t see through our tinted windows, but they know that this is the only route taken to escort the players to the dome.

Overhead, my photo appears, covering the entire side of a skyscraper. It’s an old picture of me as a high school sophomore, the last year I spent in school before I was expelled. I look grave in it, my hair pin-straight and at least a dozen different bright colors, my skin so pale it looks ashen. Headlines about me are sprinkled everywhere.

BREAKING NEWS:

Emika Chen Nominated for Wardraft



From Penniless Glitch to Wild-Card Star!

Details in This Week’s Issue



HENKA GAMES STOCK JUMPS WITH EMIKA CHEN ADDITION

Seeing my face cover eighty stories is enough to make me nauseous. I force myself to look away from the madness outside and instead press my trembling hands together firmly in my lap.

Think of the ten million, I repeat to myself. I glance outside again to see another billboard rotate onto a photo of DJ Ren, who’s wearing his giant headphones and hunched over his DJ equipment. Suddenly, it occurs to me that the other two bounty hunters, whoever they are, will probably be watching me at the Wardraft. Investigating me. Are they wild cards, too?