Automation Era: The Battlefield

[6] roles, roles

[6] roles, roles

I fiddled with my fingers in my lap, trying to keep the new load of questions down my throat, unless I wanted Angelo to go all psycho on me.

Scarlett didn't care. "If you just need a Marksman to replace Xander, why do you need two of us?"

"We also need an Assassin." Angelo sighed, as if talking about this weighed down on his heart. He was more miserable than us sometimes. "And yeah, I know you two might not turn out what we need, but even then—I'll keep you. We'll adjust our team composition no matter what. You just...don't worry about that."

The last sentence came out a breath of air rather than words carried by his voice. Even Yaseen gave Angelo an empathetic look, like he knew how much he'd been stressing about this. About finding the newbies he needed, guessing their roles. All the uncertainty.

Angelo gave Scarlett a long look. "But honestly," he said, "she gives me Assassin vibes. Wouldn't be surprised."

"Assassin? Why?"

"I don't know. You try to be sneaky and stuff, which is kinda a sign. You tried stealing my knives, then you stole Jake's dart and he didn't even notice. All the Assassins here are the thieves."

Scarlett let the words sink in for the moment, then she nodded at me. "And Jake? What do you think?"

A sigh. A long, tired, uncertain sigh—that's all that came out of Angelo's mouth for a moment, like just pondering what my role could be gave him a headache.

"I don't know." Angelo narrowed his eyes at me, shoulders leant forwards, elbows on his knees. "Definitely not an Assassin or Fighter. Maybe a Support? Or...a Marksman."

"Marksman? Isn't the Marksman supposed to be the leader of the team?"

"That's right."

Scarlett snickered. It kinda hurt, kinda carved out a tiny spot in my heart. I didn't think I'd be the leader either. But hearing it out of someone else, especially Scarlett, just...stung in a different way.

Angelo noticed Scarlett's mock. "He's good at darts," he said. "He hit the bullseye back at my place."

"You realize that he's not the only one who can do that, right?"

"Yes, dumbass. But that dartboard isn't any normal one—it's Xander's. And he was so hard on himself. That bullseye is not a circle, it's a dot. Barely there. You hit it? That's no luck; you got some decent long-range skills."

That's why he'd given me that apprehensive look when I'd told him I threw it. He'd been surprised. A hint of pride bubbled in my chest, and I bit down the urge to smile.

"Marksmen..." Scarlett straightened and set her gaze on Angelo. "They're usually more targeted during the battles? More...at risk."

Angelo nodded. "Yeah. You take down the enemy Marksman and it's an easy win. Problem is...enemies are thinking the same way—essentially it's a battle of protecting your own Marksman, while trying to take down the enemy's."

Scarlett leant back in her seat, knee bobbing to the beat of her thoughts. To our left,  a crackling fire danced inside a small stone chimney. It cast gentle hues along the side of Yaseen's face. Balanced on his knee, he warmed a loaf of bread right by the tips of the flames. He could've burned it but he didn't. Balanced, always.