But as the next half played out, there collective confidence wavered. In spite of their lead and the absence of one Red Team member at the start of the second half, Aiden's worry that his teammates had let down their guard came to fruition. Devon and Co. had regained their stride and were now playing like a well-oiled machine: blocking Aiden's side-to-center passes with daring interceptions, foiling Mateo's charges with carefully timed upraised panels, and performing expert acceleration maneuvers that left the twins dumbfounded to find the ball suddenly whisked out of their hands.

Even Natalie was having trouble. Though her agility was obviously superior to anyone on the court, Devon had evidently instructed at two-man guard on her at all times, and though they couldn't stop her movements altogether, they had acclimated to her speed well enough to block her shots in the few moments she found a window.

All the while, inset into the arena wall and hanging fifteen feet up, the shining octagon outline of Devon's goal shimmered tauntingly at Aiden.

In quick succession, nine of Blue Team's attempts to score were thwarted. On the tenth failed attempt, they lost the ball and didn't get it back. Aiden could only watch helplessly as Truck Man bowled over Juster and rocketed off to complete Red Team's final lap.

"How do you like that, Huangy?" sneered Devon over the public channel. "You're almost there, just need two more points to my one. Maybe if you get one of your buddies to boost you up, you could hop into the goal with the ball."

As Red Team advanced, Natalie took advantage of their jubilant distractedness by using up all three of her accelerator chevrons at once: zipping by in a blur, swiping the ziv-ball clean out of the arms of Devon's teammate, and hurling it into the goal, wiping out Blue Team's penalty and putting them back at baseline score.

"You talking mad shit right about now," she commented, skating casually past. "See where that got you?"

Devon snarled and threw himself back into the match.

Gameplay became dirtier. Truck Man was shoving players to the ground at maximum speed regardless of whether they held the ziv-ball or not, tossing Mateo so hard that his visor cracked. Juster retaliated shortly after by blasting the ziv-ball directly into his face, earning him a temporary suspension of five minutes, an eternity in the span of the match. Another one of Devon's teammates began employing improvised guard traps on Natalie, lifting ramps out from underneath her and derailing her momentum.

Then Devon scored.

It happened so quickly that Aiden had to check the replay on his HUD. Three Red Team players had fanned out in a triangle information, advancing on the goal.

Mateo and Jukon, by now fatigued and not noticing the trap, charged straight into the middle of them to steal, and were left chasing the ball back and forth as the Red Team trio shot the ziv- ball at one another in targeted repulsive blasts.

"Cut them off before they get any closer!" shouted Aiden to Natalie.

She activated a row of side panels and leapt off a ramp, knocking the ziv-ball away mid-pass. Quick as lightning, Devon accelerated diagonally, hopping over Jukon's futile tackle, and scooping up the ball. He accelerated again, flipping up panels in his wake as Natalie tried to come up behind.

Aiden, who had moved underneath the goal and was preparing a ramp to block the inevitable throw, looked up just in time to see a glowing blur shoot past him and into the goal. The outline of the octagon blazed crimson.

Aiden stared dumbly at the scoreboard on his HUD. One point for Red Team, to Blue Team's zero.

He felt panic creeping up his throat. Time was running short, and his adrenaline-saturated brain was short on plans. He couldn't stop the cycle of uncertainty from churning within him.

Will we lose...?

I can't lose...

But will we lose...?

Then as the seconds wound down, Mateo surged forward, the ziv-ball crackling over his palms. With a strength born out of desperation, Mateo created a long, stumpy ramp, evading opposing players' grabs and leaps like a seal dodging jumping sharks — and hopped off, throwing the ball as hard as he could across the arena; it bounced off the wall and ricocheted off a Red Team member's helmet, just barely cresting the bottom lip of the goal and rolling in, lighting up the goal in blue.

"Yeah, bitches!" screamed Mateo, his fists pumping. "Whoooo! Choke on that noise!"

Devon tore off his helmet and swore, but the facts remain unchanged. It was now sudden death. Both teams skated back to their respective landing strips at opposite ends of the long sides of the field for the third and final toss-up.

Watching Devon cursing as he made his way back to Red Team's landing strip, Aiden felt a glimmer of hope. He's losing his composure, losing focus.

As they lined up behind the illuminated border line, Aiden turned to Mateo. "Maybe it'd be better if you stayed on defense this time around."

Mateo, still hyped up over his most recent goal, chortled with amusement. "What're you talking about?"

"Look at yourself. You're in no condition for offensive plays right now."

"I'm fine. I look good." Mateo's cracked visor fizzled slightly, then resolved.

"If we weren't already short-handed, you'd be on the bench right now," pointed out Aiden. "I'm surprised the reg-AI hasn't pulled you out yet for equipment malfunction."

"I can support you two," chimed in Jukon, pointing at Aiden and Natalie. "But Aiden's right, goon, we need someone covering the goal."

"Fine," grumbled Mateo. "But don't take too long, I'll get bored."

In that regard, they were on the same page. Aiden knew the longer the game went on, the more likely they would lose. He felt his legs aching from pushing and balancing on his lev-boots. Looking at the big picture, and despite Natalie's unconventional athleticism, Red Team had all the superiority advantages: manpower, expertise, and experience.

The overhead timer counted down. The buzzer sounded. The arena roared with the fiery echo of boot thrusters exploding into action.

Aiden and Juster watched Natalie zoom down the field, fire spurting thickly from her heel thrusters. Floor panels cranked into motion, ramps curled into being — Devon and one of his teammates flew into the air — but Natalie reached the center first, her body unfurling like a flower and snapping up the ziv-ball. She tore along the arena wall, Aiden close behind, etching double golden lines with his boots in a parallel course as they advanced towards Red Team's goal.

Truck Man was trailing towards her, and with deceptive precision, he activated a series of floor panels in front of her to form a slanted wall designed to cut off her approach at the upper edges of the arena. Natalie shot the ball over to Aiden, and he skated faster, praying for time...

Wham! Devon slid in front of him, bringing up a shoulder and smashing him dead-on.

Ziv was the most versatile nanomaterial on the planet, used in everything from the bridge suspension cables to the fabric in rain-jackets. Its tensile strength, endurance, and flexibility made it ideal for all manner of applications. Best of all, it could be designed to be conductive or insulative, perfect for the game uniforms Aiden and Devon's teams now wore.

The ziv-suits, form-fitted perfectly to each team member, had plates of lightweight ceramoware composites on the chest, legs, back, and shoulders — tough, pliable, shock-resistant — but except for the elbow/knee lev-pads, their bodies were otherwise unprotected. The standard ziv pattern used in fabric didn't make for good body armor, and any collision or violent contact was highly dangerous.

Which is why when Devon hit him, the impact went through Aiden like a hammer. Aiden lost his balance and spun away, his body flopping below the electromagnetic field and directly onto the ground. The ziv-ball bounced away.

Devon scooped it up, for once not indulging a parting insult, and sped away. A perfectly legal check, flawlessly executed.

"Aiden, you good?" broadcasted Mateo.

Aiden tried to answer, but he felt like his stomach had caved in. With every passing second, Devon was getting further and further away. He frantically knuckled his stomach, and the air came in dribbles.

He forced himself to his knees, sliding slowly on the luminescent Latham Field, watching Devon's retreating back. Through the fog of pain, he noticed that Devon was going slower than expected. It was sudden death, and while he was skating as fast as he could, he wasn't going all-out.

Then it dawned on him. Devon couldn't go faster because he'd used all his accelerators in an attempt to win the toss-up. They took minutes to recharge, far too long to be of any use now.

Aiden dragged one leg forward and planted a boot down, sliding faster. Breathe. He brought up the other boot, easing himself into a decrepit shuffle.

Across the field, Juster leapt over a ramp and tried to tackle Devon, but he easily dodged.

Breathe. Aiden activated his accelerators, the ones that had been recharging since the beginning of the second half, and the sudden burst in speed nearly took his breath away again.

Air whistled mutely outside his helmet, and he used the pain in his stomach as a tool to keep his body streamlined for maximum speed. Breathe. He caught up to Devon in seconds, grabbing wildly for the ball. Devon fell to one knee but he clung on, holding the ball close to his body like it was a precious infant.

Despite their combined weight, Aiden's speed carried them both up the side of the arena. Juster was yelling something in excitement, but Aiden didn't hear him. The Latham Field shimmered underneath him and Devon, flashing red and blue and gold — the ball was caught in the middle between their palms, crackling with charge — and they clutched it like it was the lode point in a fulcrum.

Breathe.

They came down hard on the sloping side of the wall, sliding down at terrific speed, still wrestling for control. Aiden swiveled his head; they were heading diagonally for Red Team's goal. He saw Natalie and Truck Man in a dead sprint-skate behind them on either side of the main track, rapidly gaining.

"You really think you're better than me?" snarled Devon. He twisted his body and dug his elbow into Aiden's side. "With your money and your enhancements? Your AI helpers? I got those too, chrome-bitch."

He sent out a repulsive charge through his gloves and shoved the ziv-ball forward, trying to catch Aiden off guard and make him relinquish his attractive grip with his polarity glove. Aiden repositioned his grip and bent in his fingers into a claw, focusing his glove's charge.

"You're not special here, Huang — you're nothing without your family. You can't take this ball. You're nothing."

Aiden didn't dare say anything; he was too focused on keeping his balance as they tore across the field. But even if he could reply, he knew Devon had a point. In reality, Aiden knew that without his last name, his family identity, he wasn't anybody notable. Never mind the wealth; all his acquired knowledge, his professional connections and aspirations, all his power came from the fact that he was the son of Harold and Adrienne Huang.

And this arrogant prick — this child, really — was running his mouth, making disgusting threats of taking it all away.

He heard his father's voice in his ear: Or you, Aiden — picking fights over empty words?

Aiden glanced over his shoulder. The corner of the arena to the side of the Red Team goal was hurtling towards them, rising up in an unforgiving grey slope. It was a tough angle, an oblique surface. An opportunity.

He turned his boots towards the side of the rapidly approaching arena, keeping his torso angled towards Devon, so that his feet formed a straight line from heel to toe. Then, with as much control as he could muster, he sent a small pulse up the wall. Ridges began to form on the wall, a gently curving ramp...

"Let's go for a ride," said Aiden, and he triggered his last accelerator burst.

They exploded forward once more, locked in by the ziv-ball, but now Aiden was grabbing tightly on one of Devon's arms, allowing Devon to hold the majority glove control over the ziv-ball between them, giving Aiden leeway to guide their course.

After all, in this moment, if Aiden had Devon, he also had the ball.

They powered up the side of the arena wall, coasted on the inverted ramp Aiden had surreptitiously created, and began curving toward its center. He and Devon were so close that Aiden could glimpse his eyes behind the tinted visor, bulging with confusion and rage.

The accelerator chevron on his HUD slowly drained to black as they climbed upward, reaching the end of the ramp. For a split second, they hung there, suspended at the peak of their ascent. Aiden's grip on Devon's arm loosened, dislodged by gravity.

So did the ziv-ball.

Blood rushed to Aiden's head. He struggled to keep his bearings as the arena upended itself a in a blue-and-grey swirl. Devon was scrabbling at him from somewhere to his left, howling into the air and disorienting him even more. He was upside down — the Latham Field was shimmering a faint blue above him like a kid's painting of a sky. He saw the bright outline of the goal flash in front of him, and with both hands he spiked the ziv-ball through the octagon gate.

Instantly, a victory banner unscrolled in Aiden's HUD, but now he could feel himself plummeting to the ground, and Devon's panicked howls filled his ears. Without thinking, Aiden wrapped him in a bear-hug, yanking him tight. The vertigo of the moment pulled at his stomach, tickling him with a sudden giddiness, and he could hear himself laughing all the way down.