Read The Manticore Ascension: A Short Story in the Arena Mode Universe for Free Online Page B

glanced down at his armored shoulder plate, tracing his fingertip around the red and blue sigil. “Sometimes I think Drake and my dad care more about this stupid logo than anything...more than doing what’s right.”
    It’s a symbol I’d seen before; not that exact design, with two flaming dragons nipping at each other’s tails, but I’d seen something similar back in my dimension. “It’s the Ouroboros.”
    “An Oreo–what?”
    “An Ouroboros,” I giggled. “It’s the name for a serpent eating its own tail. Different versions of it have been around for centuries. It represents a cycle.”
    He nodded weakly. “It makes sense that it’s my family crest, then. I’ve been stuck in this stupid cycle since the day I was born. Every day I put on this armor and follow around my older brother, watching him lead and make decisions, and prepare for the day when he takes over the kingdom. Drake is faster than me, stronger than me, a better fighter than me...it’s like I’m living in his shadow. And my life, whatever that’s supposed to be, never seems to get started.”
    I dragged a wooden chair towards the bars and sat, and Dawson did the same on the outside. “What do you want?” I asked flatly.
    He raised his eyebrows, innocent eyes widening. “Wow...no one has ever asked me that before.” He inhaled deeply, scratching at his mop of hair with both hands. “I suppose I just want my own path. Somewhere to go and something to do that’s my choice, and my choice alone. Then if I screw up at least I know it’ll be my mess to clean up, you know?”
    “Guess you don’t clean up many messes when you’re royalty.”
    He managed a weak smile. “No, I definitely do not. So what about you?”
    “What about me what?” I asked.
    “What do you want?”
    I glanced at my surroundings, eyes ticking back and forth. “You’re kidding , right?”
    It took a second or two, but the realization eventually set in. Our conversation had been so casual that I think Dawson momentarily forgot I was a prisoner. “Ah, right,” he chuckled. “Well aside from the obvious, then.”
    “I want to get rid of my powers.”
    “But you can move through things like a ghost! Go anywhere, do anything ...” He glanced around at my confines once again. “Okay, well not at the moment, but usually isn’t that a pretty awesome power to have?”
    “I suppose,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “I can read minds, too.”
    The heat suddenly rose in his face. “Oh...really? Like, you can read thoughts?”
    “Relax, I haven’t read you ,” I assured him. “And besides, it’s not as exciting as it sounds. Most of the time it’s better not knowing what people think about you. Believe me.”
    “So why get rid of it all?” he asked.
    “I’m not really real...I’m a perception.”
    “So...you’re not here?” Dawson pulled his chair closer, leaning in on his elbows.
    “I am, but it’s not me. It’s like, I’m not whole. I’m just an abstract idea until someone observes me, and then I begin to take shape. I start to appear however my creator wants me to look.” I was still the person that Matthew Moxon envisioned back in 2041, but that could change at any time.
    “Hmm.” He trailed his eyes from my boots up to my wave of blue hair just as he had when we’d first met, although this time he did it with a silly smirk. “Whoever saw you last had some interesting ideas about hairstyles.”
    I let out a tiny laugh. “I’ve had worse. But it’s more than just that. After a while I start to feel what my observer feels, taking on their fears and desires...I’m an echo. It’s like I’m never really me: I’m just a reflection of someone else.” It was the first time I’d ever said that out loud, but for whatever reason, in that raw, naked moment, it felt liberating to reveal it to another person.
    He laughed under his breath, shaking his head.
    “What’s so funny?” I asked.
    “You’re a superhuman time traveler and