The Last Victor

Chapter 9

Let The Games Begin - Part 1

*Bang, bang, bang.*

My left eye slowly creeps open, groggily looking towards the door where the knocking is coming from.

"Kyla, it's Vivienne. You've got to get up and start getting ready."

Shoot. Me. Now.

I roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head in an attempt to block her out.

She knocks again, louder and faster this time.

With a loud groan, I push myself up from the bed and swing my feet around so they are dangling down. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

I had barely gotten any sleep last night.

Then again, I don't think anyone in my position would have either.

I rub the remainder of sleep from my eyes, and trudge toward the door, swinging it open.

She bustles in, immediately shoving a garment bag at my chest.

"What is this?" I ask, holding it up to get a better view.

"That is the outfit you'll be wearing today and for the start of the Trials."

I bring it over to the bed, taking the outfit out of the bag.

Inside was a black field jacket that was paired along with a navy blue tee, which had the Lionheart logo on it. There was also a pair of black cargo pants with topper boots.

"Sweet." I smile, pulling the jacket over my nightwear. I walk over to the mirror to check it out.

She looks up from her notepad, giving the jacket a once-over.

"It's not meant to look cute." she shakes her head with raises brows, "It's meant to help you survive the conditions."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I don't look badass." I strike a pose, earning an eye roll from her.

She looks down at her hand watch, and her eyes go wide. "We have much more pressing issues than an outfit. We are already way off schedule."

I can't help but roll my eyes, trying my best to stifle a laugh.

Thank god this might be the last time I have to hear her talk about that damn schedule again.

"At this rate we'll never get down to the weaponry rack on time before the opening. All the other contestants are going to get their choice before you."

I raise an eyebrow at her statement. "We get to choose our weapons?"

"Of course." she scoffs, rubbing her face in exasperation, "You're not going to kill Roamers and contestants with your bare hands now are you?"

"I mean, it's possible..." I respond with a shrug, knowing full well the comment would tick her off, "I saw it happen in a movie once."

She waves a dismissive hand at me completely ignoring the statement, and heads towards the door. "Be downstairs in no more than half an hour, got it?"