Devon's team was rounding the second bend of their third and final lap. After that, they would be free to score as many points as they could before the game ended. And it wasn't even half-time.

Aiden checked the clock in his HUD: five minutes until the break. If this weren't an official match, he would have enlisted Auxy's help in alerting him of the remaining time by audio cue, but any usage of AIEN-ware (short for AI Enhanced) was prohibited in sporting matches.

To win, Aiden would have to think fast. First, they needed to regain control of the ball. They needed to prevent Devon's team from gaining momentum by scoring points.

"Here's the plan..." Aiden triggered the mini-propulsion engines in his boots, allowing him to start moving forward. "Mateo, when I tell you, raise a floor panel fifteen lengths away from behind the ball-carrier. Jukon and Juster, you run standard interference and break their formation. Natalie —"

"Uh-oh," said Jukon.

Aiden swiveled. "Where'd she go?"

Jukon pointed. "She's gone, goon."

Natalie was zooming down the center of the arena, her body angled low to the ground like an ice-skater. She was going so fast that the yellow lights emanating from her boot soles seemed to leave streaks of gold on the electromagnetic field below, making a beeline towards Devon's squad from the side.

Aiden broadcasted to the teams channel. "What the hell are you doing?"

Natalie's reply came in short. "Getting the ball."

In just seconds, Aiden saw his plan begin to fall apart. "Hold on — wait, wait, don't go straight for them, don't —"

It was too late. Devon had seen Natalie coming and organized three of his teammates into a human wall. Natalie triggered a floor panel and a ramp formed beneath her, vaulting her into the air.

But even as they continued zipping down the track, Devon's team raised their arms over their heads, forcing Natalie to flip over the palisade of limbs as she swiped for the ziv-ball, missed, and began the inevitable descent back down to the arena.

As she fell, her body whirled like a top, one leg lashing out and striking Truck Man in the side of the head.

Instantly, a red caution symbol blared on everyone's HUD:

Foul alert: Illegal contact detected. Handicap +1 goal to Blue Team.

Natalie twisted gracefully in mid-air, landing boots-facing on the side of the arena. Her momentum carried her skidding down the bowl of the curve, back into the middle of the arena. She activated a panel underneath her and it flipped into a slanted wall, allowing her to spin around and plant her hands against it to break her slide.

Juster let out an appreciative whistle.

"Shit..." muttered Mateo in amazement. "Denver got us a ninja."

"What was the foul for?" broadcasted Natalie.

Aiden swore. "You can't strike the other guys like that. Those hits aren't allowed. You can check, you can tackle — but you can't kick or punch."

"The guy that hit Denver got away with it!"

"That was technically a legal tackle, if not an attempt to get the ball. You just got us a penalty, and now we have an extra goal we need to score."

"Damn — sorry, I didn't know."

"I told you to wait."

"Look, goon, we don't have time for a lot of talking right now."

"Then will you listen to me this time?!"

"Whatever, wire-head."

Even as they argued, Devon's team was barreling straight towards them like a freight train. Truck Man still had the ziv-ball floating perfectly balanced over the massive palm of his glove, but Natalie's kick seemed to have had an effect; every now and then, the big guy shook his head like an ox trying to rid itself of a bothersome fly.

Aiden bit back a colorful retort. "Like I said, Mateo raises the ramp on my signal. Jukon and Juster — interference. Natalie, since you're already where you are, draft behind Devon's team. When Mateo raises the ramp, jump it and snatch the ball."

"What are you going to be doing?"

"I'll hit the ball to you."

"What's stopping Devon from just passing in and out of the track?"

"Because every time you enter the straightaway of the main track, the ball isn't allowed to leave it unless you complete the length or get it knocked out. They can go backwards on the track, but only until they backtrack to a curve can they pass the ball. And they still have to return to where they left off."

"What about a guard trap?" said Mateo, referring to the standard maneuver of using floor panels to rise up and isolate the ball-carrier on the main track.

"Too predictable," said Aiden. "They're bound to have a counter."

Devon was halfway down the straightaway now. His team had slowed somewhat, seeing Aiden and the rest bunching up ahead of them.

"Nice try, chrome-bitches," he broadcasted tauntingly. "What's next? Punching us until you get ten more penalty handicaps?"

It was tempting, but Aiden didn't respond. He counted down in his head, keeping his timing. Three...two...one...

"Go," he said, and he and the twins jetted off along the track, Aiden hunched down, his arms held close to his body to reduce drag.

Whatever Devon had been expecting, it hadn't been this. His team slowed momentarily before Devon urged them to speed up once more. But that little pause was all Aiden needed.

He activated his accelerators, surging towards them. Devon's cluster drew even closer around Truck Man, but Jukon and Juster were there, using accelerators of their own and smashing themselves like twin bulldogs into the pack, scattering them, driving one guy to his knees.

Devon side-stepped the dog-pile and tried to block Aiden, but Aiden pumped his accelerators again and arrowed into his legs, knocking him off his feet. Aiden dodged another guy's wild swipe, and then he was inside the Red Team's guard, face-to-face with Truck Man.

"Now!" he yelled to Mateo.

The big guy tried to ward him off with a beefy arm, but Aiden was too fast for him, slapping the massive palm holding the ziv-ball upwards and adding a repulsive charge from his polarity gloves to the blow, blasting the ziv-ball into the air.

A row of panels ascended behind Truck Man, shaping into a ramp, and then Natalie was there, soaring over them, one arm outstretched. The ziv-ball's stippled surface flashed in the light and then it zipped to Natalie's hand, locking into place inches from her palm through the attractive force of the polarity glove.

For a moment, time was frozen. Natalie hung in the air, weightless, like a circus performer on the trapeze, and then she was diving to the ground and jetting away to start Blue Team's first circuit of the game, the ziv-ball tucked safely in her glove.

"Break!" screamed Devon at his teammates, his voice muffled behind his helmet. "Break, break, break!"

The Red Team split up, attempting to ambush Natalie at different points along the track. But she skated so fast that they couldn't catch up to her until the last straightaway (the one they had just abandoned), and by then it was one guy standing by the side of the track, grabbing hopelessly for the ziv-ball as Natalie blew past in a vast rush of air.

Juster let out a whoop, clapping his gloved hands over his head.

"Keep running it!" yelled Aiden. "Don't stop, run it all the way!"

Panels clanked into position ahead of Natalie as she approached, and one of Devon's teammates sped up the side of the opposite wall, launching into a steep dive like a hawk dive-bombing a rabbit. Without breaking her slide, Natalie slipped away, one foot still poised on the glowing white strip of the track, the other extended outwards for balance — and she spun like a ballerina, the guy overshooting her and crashing down onto the floor of the arena.

"Foul!" screamed Devon. "She stepped off the straightaway with the ball!"

But the reg-AI remained silent, implicitly ruling that Natalie had in fact toed the borders of the track. Just as she crossed the finish line, completing her third and final lap for the team, the bell rang out for half-time.

--

In the large break-time booth adjacent to the arena, Aiden's team was clamoring with exhilaration. While actual taunts with text were prohibited, Mateo sent over the public channel a series of emojis depicting red jerseys followed by turd-and-mattress symbols (roughly translating to "Red Team Shitting the Bed"). In response, Devon's team broadcasted a slew of rude hand gestures, which was promptly flagged by the reg-AI for unsportsmanlike conduct and resulted in the benching of one member of Red Team for two minutes of the game's next half.

In the background, Jukon and Juster were dapping high-fives in ever-increasing orders of complexity until they spilled the electrolyte dispensary onto Mateo's lap. Aiden chucked a water canister at them and threatened to stun them with his shock gauntlet if they didn't sit down and relax.

Meanwhile, Natalie sat in her seat coolly, drinking mineral water from the purifier station.

"Where'd you learn to play like that?" demanded Aiden. "Denver said you were a transfer."

"I am," said Natalie matter-of-factly. "First time I've handled a ziv-ball like this in my life."

"You still never said where you transferred from."

"I consider that private information."

"Well, I'd really like to know. Tell me."

Natalie made a face. "Mmmm...nah."

Aiden stared at her. "No amateur makes moves like that. I've never seen Denver do what you just did, and he's been playing ziv-ball since he was in diapers."

Natalie sighed. "Fine, since you're so pressed about it...I was an aerialist dancer when I was younger. My parents thought it'd improve my body coordination."

"I'll say," chirped Mateo.

Natalie rolled her eyes, but her smile was warm. "Ahh, thanks buddy."

For some reason, Aiden felt she was lying, but speculating over Natalie's inexplicable talent seemed a poor use of time. He stood up in front of the team.

"We need to score at least two goals," he said. "One for the penalty from Natalie's foul. And one goal for an actual point. And ideally one more for headroom. It's likely that they'll complete their circuits before they start trying to get goals — we can only hold that off for as long as we can. Whatever happens, we can't let them score one point."

"Was that supposed to be a pep talk?" said Natalie.

Aiden glared at her. "I'm saying we need to focus."

Natalie peered at him. "You really want to beat Devon, huh?"

"I don't like to lose."

Natalie put her mineral water aside and stood up to gaze at the arena through the observation plexiglass. "I'd wager on a favorable outcome," she said nonchalantly. "Don't sweat it, we'll get this win."

"I'd bet on us, too," said Mateo, staring openly after her. "After all, we got here a new secret weapon."

Aiden shot him a look like, You're making moves now, seriously? Mateo just grinned, slyly gesturing at Natalie's slim, toned figure from behind like, And you wouldn't?

"You seem pretty sure about yourself," said Aiden to Natalie.

Natalie turned around and cocked an eyebrow. "So do you."