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Rated: 13+ · Novel · Action/Adventure · #1879014
Plink struggles to find his place in the Games.
         Philip Lincoln had trained his entire life for this moment.
         He was standing in a group of close to fifty kids, all around fourteen, on one edge of an abandoned wooden bridge. The bridge stood free on either side and was surrounded entirely by water. On the other end, stood another group of kids. Between them stood a group of five older kids, the Peacekeepers.
         He felt a nudge to his left, and glanced over. It was his best friend, Tim. Tim was tho only other person that he knew who had trained for this as long as Philip had been. Tim nodded, as if to make sure he was ready for what was about to happen. He checked his grip on the handle of his sword, then reached back and checked that his single-shot paint pistol was still in place. He nodded back to Tim. He was ready.
         One of the Peacekeepers stepped away from the bunch.
         "Listen up!" He shouted, "I'm only going to explain this once. This is the Drafting Battle. For those of you who don't know, this is your chance to show your skills. After this battle, the team captains will all get a chance to draft any of you they want." He pointed to the shore where the captains were gathered to watch the action. "This year's Draft Battle will be a Pirate War. This Bridge is the ship.  Weapons allowed are a single-shot pistol, and a sword. A hit from either qualifies an out, along with being removed from the battlefield. The battle will begin as teams and break down into a free-for-all as the number of participants decrease. Last man standing is the victor and gets to choose a team to join instead of being drafted." The Peacekeeper lifted his hands into the air and held them there for a second, looking around as the others ran to random places throughout the field. "Ready?" He shouted, "FIGHT!"
         Suddenly, it was as if time slowed. Wild shouts and screams filled the air as the mass of kids around Philip surged forward. Philip took a deep breath, and then stood silently as his teammates swarmed past. Tim, at his left shoulder, did the same. They knew what was about to happen.
         The two teams stampeded toward the center of the bridge. Twenty feet from each other, the entire front line of both teams pulled their pistols and fired, taking each other out.
         "Now," Tim said sprinting forward.
         Philip didn't hesitate. He sprang forward and pulled his sword, shoulder to shoulder, he and Tim came up on the back of their team and slashed, each taking out four of their own team mates.
         "Hey!" one of the boys stood up, enraged at being backstabbed. "I'm on your team, damnit!" Tim didn't hesitate he jammed is sword dead center in the boys chest, causing him to stumble backwards and off of the bridge.
         Philip tore his way into the battle. Slicing down everybody within reach.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1879014