In a sleek neon future, dragons and their riders compete in teams of three in government-sponsored competitive sports. Massive arenas hold crowds of hundreds of thousands of spectators to witness the games. Those with the genetic potential to become riders are conscripted as early as infancy, their parents paid a hefty stipend to ease the parting. These children are raised, trained, and schooled with the intention of making each of them into powerhouse celebrities, capable of capturing the public's hearts—or making themselves notorious. Success isn't just about winning the games; it's about playing your part to the public. How well can you wear this persona that's been written out for you since birth? How easily can you slip into this fictional facade when a camera is thrust in your face? How well can you hide the cracks in your armor when your friends are injured or fall in the arena?
If you aren't good enough, you're expendable. And next time you enter that arena, you may not come back out.
The Team
This season's arena has been brutal. There are many talented up-and-coming teams this year, and the standing champions are facing threats from all sides. Behind the scenes, PR teams, managers, and coaches are hotly negotiating the wins and losses. One thing's for sure: Tally, Yevka, and Leiaura are the hotshot villains of the season. It's not their first season in the arena, but it's their first as a team together, and their managers have created a meanacing persona for them. Tally, the whip-fast striker who's brutalized more than one competitor over her years in the arena. Yevka, the defensive genius who eliminates opponents with the all the subtlety of a brick wall. Leiaura, the mysterious newcomer, unpredictable and daring. This is the team who will rise to the championship match, inciting passionate boos from the crowd all along the way. Play a little too rough, push a little too hard. Make a few too many foul plays for it to really be an accident. Build tension, create rivalry. Sell tickets.
And when it comes to that championship match, fail. Spectacularly. Give the crowds the catharsis they've been waiting for. It's the best season we've had in years.
And if, along the way, an expendable rider on another team needs to be—accidentally, of course—permanently removed from the games? Then what better team to cause a fatal accident than the season's most hated villains…