Today is the day.

  The day of three duels.

  Honey is mostly dreading it, but she also has a small flame of curious about what will happen. She already figured out something with Rocky, such as his high pain tolerance and his sadistic bow, so now she is wondering what she will find with the three nuisances from yesterday.

  Honey enters the simulation room reserved for the duels in the Summit City Gym, and she immediately sees Astros, Petals, and Asmund, all three dressed casually and talking among themselves.

  Nearby is Neda, her eyes locked on her pad, and Frank and his assistant. Both of them are working on the simulation pods.

  “Back again, are we?” says Neda.

  “Yep. I’m back and ready to duel,” says Honey.

  “We're almost done. Relax for a moment before your brain melts,” says Nada.

  Honey nods and goes to Astros group, offering a confident smile.

  “Good evening, lady, and gents. Are you ready for the duels?” says Honey.

  All three look at her and briefly forget how to move as they have different levels of shock.

  “Hold on, are you dueling all three of us?” asks Astros.

  “I am,” replies Honey.

  “Three duels in consecutive order in the same day?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “No.”

  “She clearly is,” says Asmund.

  Honey glares at him. “Am not.”

  “Are too,” replies Asmund.

  “Am not!”

  “Are too.”

  “Who cares?” says Petals. “She accepted the challenges, so let’s just duel so we can get out of here and grab nachos.”

  Honey nods and looks at Astros. “I believe you’re the first one.”

  “I am. And I promise I’ll make it quick,” says Astros.

  Neda gets between them, still clutching a pair of jumpsuits.

  “Yes, we’re all amused by the banter, but please get in your jumpsuits. The dueling chambers have schedules to keep,” says Neda.

  She gives them their respective suits, and Honey and Astros go to their dressing rooms to change into their jumpsuits. Then they go to their designated pods, and Honey rolls her shoulders and neck before climbing in. Once inside, she takes a deep breath and relaxes as Frank puts the sensors on her.

  “Comfy?” asks Frank.

  Honey nods, and Frank finishes strapping her down. Once she is secured in place, Frank puts the sensor cage over her and seals the pod. Warm colors from the sensors bring some illumination to the darkness, and soon the screen flashes above Honey’s eyes and with the familiar loading bars zipping by.

  Soon there is a white light. Honey blinks, and her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight streaming through puffy clouds lingering the blue sky above. A cool, gentle breeze carries the sweet scent of wildflowers and freshly baked bread. Nearby is the entrance of a quaint village comprised of sturdy brick houses with thatched roofs and cobblestone streets.

  Lush green grass blankets the ground between the buildings and tall trees surround the perimeter. Adding vibrant colors to the village are coned towers of flowers, ranging from crimson poppies to sunny daffodils, and delicate purple crocuses.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Coils of smoke rise from a few chimneys, and an old windmill overlooking the village creaks as its blades slowly turn in the breeze.

  Yet despite the idyllic scene, an eerie stillness hangs in the air. No sounds of laughter or conversation reach Honey's ears. The streets are empty, devoid of any civilians going about their daily lives. Laundry hangs motionless on the lines.

  Honey removes her weapon from her back, arms the cannon, and takes a tentative step forward, her boots making a soft crunch on the loose stones of the road. A flicker of movement catches her eye, and she whirls around, aiming her weapon at a crow, preening its glossy black feathers on a gnarled fence post.

  It looks at her. She lowers her weapon with a heavy sigh, and the crow flies away, leaving some black feathers to drift down and flicker from sight.

  Honey turns the dial on Thor-Ton, bringing it to hum and glow, and she traverses slowly through the village, keeping her eyes and ears peeled for any signs of Astros.

  “Now, if I was a grumpy guy upset about a suit, where would I hide?” muses Honey quietly.

  Then Honey’s vision snaps to darkness.

  Honey’s eyes open and her simulation pod opens a few seconds later. When Frank frees her from its restraints, she climbs out and waits for Astros to exit his pod, glaring the whole time and ignoring Petals snickering.

  After Astros exits his pod, Honey marches to him.

  “What the hell was that!” yells Honey.

  “Don’t be mad. I told you it would be quick,” says Astros.

  “But what was that!?”

  “I shot you in the head.”

  “With what?”

  “My musket.”

  “A… musket?”

  “Yeah.”

  Honey and Astros stare at each other in silence, and a few seconds pass before she raises her hand slightly and steps closer.

  “A musket?” repeats Honey.

  “Yes,” says Astros.

  “… Can I see it?”

  Astros looks at the clock, and then at Petals and Asmund. Asmund is too busy texting on his phone, but Petals also looks at the clock and studies it for a few seconds before looking at Astros.

  “Go ahead. We have some time,” says Petals.

  “Good.” Astros looks at Honey. “Let me change and I’ll show you Sparrowhawk.”

  Honey grins and rubs her hands together as she and Astros go to their respective changing rooms. When they are back in their casual clothes, a security guard takes the pair to the armory and retrieves Astros’ musket.

  When Honey sees it, her eyes widen and her mouth spreads to an open smile. She is breathless at the weapon’s beauty. The dark wood is polished, and its large silver patch box has engraving of a red ringed planet; the dark metal is also well maintained, and there is a crosshair near the front that lines up with the rear sight, and a bayonet on a rail system. And there is a frizzen and cock style system almost directly above the trigger, which has a crank system next to it.

  Astros graciously takes the musket from the guard, and they are led to the shooting range, which is pocketed with various craters and shrapnel damage.

  Astros removes the bayonet from the weapon and sets it down next to him while humanoid shaped gel targets are lowered with various targets marked on them.

  “I’ve never seen a musket like that before. Family heirloom?” asks Honey.

  “Were you expecting a flintlock musket?” asks Astros.

  “To be fair when you said musket, I was… You know… expecting a musket from the time muskets were a thing.”

  Astros stares at Honey for a moment before his brows quirk and his head bobs in understanding.

  “I can see that,” says Astros. “And for the record, my family does own a flintlock musket. A perfect replica used by King Louis the Eighth’s guards. But that kind of weapon isn’t suitable for our world, so it is more for show. This is why my family uses Sparrowhawk.”

  Honey nods. “Nice. Very nice. Can I use Sparrowhawk?”

  “Absolutely not. But you are free to watch.”

  Honey frowns, and Astros primes Sparrowhawk by turning the crank near the handle. The weapon hums. He aims. And fires.

  There is a loud crack, and a gel target’s heart explodes. Astros cranks the lever on Sparrowhawk, and after the weapon hums again he shoots another target, striking it in the lung.

  Another crank, another shot, and a gel target’s arm is shot in half at the elbow. One more crank, aim, and fire, and a target’s head is blown to bits. After that, Astros opens the patch box and removes the battery. Then he turns to the guard and says, “I’d like to return this to the armory.”

  The guard takes Sparrowhawk and Honey and Astros leave the shooting range. When they enter the hallway, Astros pulls out a receipt and holds it in front of Honey’s face.

  “By the way, that’s for you,” says Astros.

  Honey sighs heavily, snatches the receipt, and stuffs it in her pocket. “Fine.”

  As Astros walks away, Honey takes another deep breath. Her hands clench, and her brain feels like it is about to split in two as the warring thoughts tear at her mind. Analysis, pros-and-cons, first and second and fourth and eighth order of effects. Asking what she wants, no, desires, to ask has so many possibilities of going wrong or right. Possibly disaster. She must think carefully-

  “Do you want to see my weapon, too!” blurts Honey. Damn it!

  Astros stops and looks at Honey quizzically.

  “Actually, no. I change my mind. You don’t get to see my weapon. You shot me and won’t let me use yours, and now you’re making me pay for you dry cleaning. Screw you. Get bent. I’m out of here!” rants Honey.

  Yet Honey doesn’t move, and Astros continues staring at her, a tiniest of curves at the tip of his lips.

  “Feel better?” says Astros.

  “No,” says Honey.

  “That’s a shame. Maybe when this is over, I can take you out to eat.”

  Honey’s eyes widen. “Really?”

  Astros nods. “Yeah. You’re dealing with Petals next, and for that, I pity you.”

  Honey groans. “Aw man. Is she a girlboss that’ll monologue me to death with her prisiness?”

  “No. But she is brutal.” Astros puts his hand on Honey’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. “Goodluck, Honey.”

  And with that, Astros walks away, leaving Honey to stare at him, dumbfounded.