Archive of Our Own

—---------  1  —---------

Damon had a scowl on his face.

Now, this normally wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. Damon’s face vacillated between annoyed or smug, and the group had long become accustomed to his sour attitude. Cassidy even said that she was starting a collection of his different glares. 

“I’m making a Damon translation book!” Cassidy had announced. She scratched her head. “I’m still having trouble telling between his ‘You’re wrong’ stare and his ‘I am trying to obliterate my brain from existence’ stare, though.”

Knowing her, it probably wasn’t even a joke. That girl seemed designed to drive Damon nuts. 

Either way, Damon scowling was nothing new, but for some reason he seemed even more foul tempered today. He had been in a mood all morning, snapping at Diana at breakfast. It was out of character for the guy, who was fully willing to use his sharp tongue when pressed, but normally didn’t go out of his way for it. If anything, he kept to himself.

It’s not really Desmond’s business, but even Eloise, who didn’t like to voice bad opinions on others, had commented on this unusual behavior. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to check up on him – Damon tolerated Desmond’s presence far more than their other classmates.

“Hey,” Desmond greeted casually. He walked over to where the other was sitting, nose deep into a thick book. 

Damon looked up, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “What is it?”

“Nothing in particular, just wanted to talk,” Desmond replied. The guy was always so on edge that he reflexively wanted to put him on ease. “What are you working on?”

“I’m studying, ” Damon said, curtly. Determining that Desmond had no specific intentions, Damon returned back to his reading. 

Desmond got a better look at the cover. The Causes and Effects of the Triarch Currency Realignment…?  “You’re studying economics? I thought you were a debater.”

Damon raised an annoyed eyebrow. “I am a debater. A large part of debating is having a strong understanding of your subject material. Economic policy is a common topic of discussion.”

That made sense. “I never thought about what debating entails… You must have a lot of knowledge on a lot of subjects then.”

Damon nodded, ticking things off his fingers. “Politics, law, current events. Even philosophy and social science. I have to be an expert in all of these things, in order to argue it at any time.”

Sounds like a lot. “You must have an impressive memory,” Desmond noted. 

It was an attempt to warm him up by appealing to the guy’s ego, but to his surprise, Damon frowned instead. “That’s the bare minimum. Any debater worth their salt knows that much. To earn the title of Ultimate Debater, I have to be able to discuss any topic.”

“Any topic?” 

Damon nodded. “Any, at any time.”

That’s… “Impossible. How could you be prepared for anything?”

Damon narrowed his eyes. “Want me to prove it? Here, give me a topic.”

Desmond wracked his brain. He had wanted to avoid an argument, but he couldn’t help but challenge such a bold assertion. He searched for a topic...

• Economic policy
• Hotdogs
• The students

“Since you're reading about it now, how about economic policy?”

“Sure.” Damon shut his book with a muffled thump. “The text discusses the effects of the Triarch Currency Realignment, an extremely controversial decision by the three major continental blocs to partially decouple their reserve systems from the Global Liquidity Index. I’ll argue in favor of the agreement, while you argue in opposition. To begin…”

Damon met Desmond’s blank stare. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” he deadpanned.

“N-Not a clue.”

Let’s try something else…

“Convince me that a hotdog is a sandwich.”

“Are you serious?” Yep, that was definitely his ‘I am trying to obliterate my brain from existence’ stare. Desmond makes a note to describe it to Cassidy later. 

“You said any topic,” Desmond shrugged, innocently. “Plus, I really don’t think I can be convinced of this.”

Damon grumbled, “I’ve debated this topic a hundred times, but whatever.” Wait, that was his problem with the debate topic? He had thought it was just too insignificant.

Desmond was subjected to an extremely thorough argument on why a hotdog should be categorized as a sandwich. All of his points were cleanly broken down and rebutted in a way that left no room for doubt. By the end of it, Desmond was questioning his very existence.

“...I seriously believe a hotdog is a sandwich now. What have you done to me?”

“Never doubt me again,” Damon deadpanned. 

My head’s spinning…This guy has definitely made his opponents cry. Let’s try one more time…

Desmond hesitated. “Let’s talk about… the trustworthiness of the other students.”

Damon raised a surprised eyebrow. “You refused to debate me on that when I brought it up.”

It was true. When Damon had offered a debate previously, that was the topic he had suggested. Desmond had refused back then out of principle, but the longer they spent trapped in this prison, the more Desmond’s discipline was eroded away. To be honest, Desmond was bored, and since he couldn’t do his normal training with the limited space of the academy, this was the next best thing. Training for the mind, right?

“I meant that I would debate in favor of trust, while you try to convince me,” Desmond clarified. “I’m not about to throw around baseless suspicion, just because I’m in a killing game.”

Damon scoffed. “Isn’t that a perfectly good reason to doubt?”

“Well, this is one topic you’re not going to sway me on,” he said firmly. “You can’t make me distrust people without real evidence.”

Damon's expression became thoughtful. He appeared to weigh something within his mind. After a long pause, he finally said, “Alright. What do you think about Eloise?”

Desmond blinked. “Her? Out of everyone, she’s the least likely to kill.”

The other's demeanor shifted from his typical disinterested persona into the familiarly sharp, intense gaze from the class trial. Damon tilted his head to the side, eyes unblinking. “Why not? Out of all of us, her talent makes her the most physically dangerous. Even without a weapon, her strength and agility could easily take out anyone here, even Ingrid or Jean.”

“Strength isn’t what’s important,” Desmond argued. “It’s about having the will to kill, which Eloise would never do.”

Damon retorted, “How would you know? Are you such a good judge of character that you can determine that with less of a week of knowing someone? And what about Tozu’s motives? All he would need to do is give her a motive like the traitor perk — tell her she’ll die unless she kills someone. In that kind of corner, what do you think she’d do? Lay down and die, or use the talent she’s perfected her whole life?”

Desmond thought about that, an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. In a situation like that, it was hard to imagine any of the Ultimates just accepting their death quietly. They had all worked so hard to become the best of the best. For all that work to go down the drain with nothing to show for it… it was horrible to imagine. 

If I had been in Eva’s shoes… would I have…?

No, the difference between him and Eva was that Desmond wouldn’t go searching for the perk in the first place. He wouldn’t put himself in that situation by going behind the others’ backs, and he definitely wouldn’t have accepted anything Tozu tried to offer him.

“I would still have faith in her,” Desmond said finally. “I don’t think she would want to escape at the expense of all of our lives. Eloise – she has a good heart.”

Damon’s gaze didn’t waver. “That ‘good heart’ only makes her more dangerous, not less.”

Desmond frowned. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

Damon leaned back, eyes half-lidded. His tone was almost bored.

“Think about it. Eloise has people in her life who rely on her talent – we all do. Whether it be supporting our family, a business, or anything else, as long as we’re trapped in the killing game, those people will be suffering with us gone. Eloise has younger sisters, who she supports with the money she earns at competitions. If they were threatened, why would she choose us, a group of strangers she’s known for less than a month, over them?”

He looked directly at Desmond.

“You think kindness makes someone safe, but in reality, it only gives people more excuses to look after their own interests. If you only have yourself, you have no choice but to acknowledge your actions as purely selfish. But the more obligations someone has, the more they can justify to themselves that they’re in the right. There’s no rationalization more powerful than one that combines altruism with personal benefit.”

Desmond blinked. Wow. What a cynical outlook. Still… what Damon was saying wasn’t strictly incorrect. His words had a way of sticking themselves in his head – he knew it would distract him during training tomorrow.

With that thought, he had no choice to concede. He laughed lightly. “Wow, you really are a strong debater. I guess I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

Damon blinked, caught off-guard by his mellow reaction. He narrowed his eyes. “Stop joking around. If you have something to say, say it.”

“No, really.” Desmond smiled, easy and genuine. “You make some good points. Still…” He shrugged, relaxed as ever. “I have faith in everyone here. Even if they’ve got reasons to kill, I’d like to believe they won’t.”

That only seemed to confuse Damon further. He studied Desmond like he was a riddle to solve.

“Well,” Desmond continued cheerfully, “looks like you’ve proven me wrong. You really can debate any topic. I’ll have to bring you along next time I need to settle an argument.”

“I… suppose?” Damon muttered, frowning slightly.

Desmond waved him off and strolled away, hands in his pockets. Damon’s confused gaze lingered on his back.

His talent’s no joke. Even now, I can’t stop replaying his words in my head — like they’ve wormed their way in. If that’s the effect of a short conversation, I can’t imagine what it’s like living with thoughts like his all the time.

It must be exhausting, never being able to trust anyone. What happened to make him see the world that way?

—---------  2  —---------

Desmond was bored. He had done 12 loops around the dorm building by now, trying to expend some energy. So, when he saw a familiar blond sitting alone, he thought he’d stop for a chat. 

“Still studying? You’ve been here for the last 4 hours.” Desmond said. 

Damon frowned. “Still running in the halls like a maniac?”

Oops, did I hit a nerve? “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Desmond laughed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I have been wandering for a while, huh?”

Damon’s eyes flickered towards him strangely, almost like confusion. “It’s… fine.”

Desmond leaned over Damon’s shoulder to take a look at what he’s reading. He expected another economics book, but to his surprise, it seemed to be a passage about Christian theology. 

“I didn’t realize you were religious.”

“I’m not. It’s just something I have to know.”

Have to know. Pretty odd phrasing, but he probably means– “Because you have to be able to debate any topic.”

“You got it,” said Damon, coolly. He didn’t say it as a brag, just as a fact. 

“How do you debate theology? Is there even an objective way to judge an argument when faith and logic are opposites?”

Damon sighed. “Are you kidding? Theology is one of the most debated topics in the world. Besides, debate isn’t all about logic. A good debater can construct a good argument, but a great debater can make their audience believe a bad argument.”

Desmond had known that theology was widely debated, he just hadn’t expected Damon to debate it. As someone who seemed to value cold logic above all else, Damon’s statement was surprising. “Wouldn’t the strength of the argument matter the most?” Desmond asked.

Damon raised an eyebrow. “Do good lawyers always choose innocent clients?” He quickly made a face. “Well, Wolfgang might’ve thought so, but it takes more skill to convince a jury to acquit a guilty person than an innocent. No, the best lawyers are the ones who can use their audience’s psychology to convince them of anything, and debating works the same way.”

“Convince your audience of anything? Now that can’t be possible.” 

“It is possible.” Damon looked away. “I’m not at that level yet, but one day, I will be. I was hoping that Eden’s Academy would help me develop my talent to that extent, but then this happened.”

So not only does Damon expect himself to argue any topic, he expects himself to be able to convince any audience of any conclusion. What a high bar. “To be honest, I can’t imagine you arguing something you don’t believe in.” If anything, Damon refused to back down, even when others ostracized him. 

“...It’s different in debates than in real discussion. I still have my own opinions, but a good debater can convince himself of anything, even if temporarily. After all, how can you convince others, when you can’t even convince yourself?” Damon paused. “That’s probably what Wolfgang did too. There’s no way he actually thought that every single one of his clients were innocent. He just made himself think that. The difference is that I don’t lie to myself.” Damon ended his rant with a huff, forcefully turning back to his book.  

“…” Damon’s talent took more social skills than Desmond would have thought. Looking back on it, it made sense. Hadn’t Desmond acknowledged Damon’s ability to command the room during the class trial? It wasn’t only his logical points, but his presence of authority that made people instinctively listen. And when Damon convinced the others to hear Diana out, he didn’t use logic at all– just an emotional appeal to their hearts. 

It honestly reminded Desmond of Wolfgang. For the most disliked guy in the group, he was pretty people-savvy. 

“You really can debate any topic then,” Desmond said. 

“You still weren’t convinced?” Damon scoffed.

“Still, aren’t convinced,” Desmond corrected, smothering a grin at Damon’s offended glare. When you found the right buttons, he was pretty easy to rile up. 

Damon crossed  his arms. “If you can find something, I’ll gladly prove you wrong.”

Desmond wracked his head for a topic. How could he even the playing field? “How about we debate on the best materials for making arrows?” he suggested.

“Arrows?” Damon looked thoughtful. “I don’t know much about this subject…”

“Well, you far outmatch me as a debater, so the only way I could give you a challenge is with something that’s within my expertise. Wouldn’t it be good practice?”

“Hm. Fine,” Damon said. “Let’s talk about… arrows.”

Desmond gave him a brief rundown on some of the basic terminology, and then they were off. 

—--------- —---------

In the end, Damon lost. “Dammit, how do you know so much about this? Shouldn’t you be shooting the arrows, not making them?”

Desmond laughed, sheepishly. “I like making my own – the manufactured ones don’t match my standards. The material has a really big effect on accuracy, you know? Still, you did a pretty good job for having no knowledge of the source material.”

“Don’t sugarcoat, that was terrible,” he huffed. Damon was in an even worse mood than when Desmond first approached him. Did losing a debate bother him that badly? 

He’s pretty hard on himself. Damon has high expectations for “true” Ultimates, and he’ll do anything to meet those expectations, no matter how self-imposed.

I feel like I learned more about him.

—---------  3  —---------

The next morning, Desmond’s breakfast was interrupted by a hand slamming down on his table. Desmond looked up to see Damon, an uncharacteristically intense expression on his face. “Debate me again.”

“What?” Desmond paused from eating his cereal, the spoon halfway to his mouth.

“Debate me again,” Damon repeated impatiently. “I read up on physics and material science, so I have a better grasp on the subject.”

He seriously researched arrows after he lost a debate? It’s been less than a day… He must really hate losing. “I’m eating right now, so give me a few minutes.”

Damon blinked like he hadn’t noticed, then nodded. 

....

They had their debate, and Desmond was promptly defeated. 

“Wow… with only a day of preparation, you beat me.”

Damon tilted his head to the side. “It’s nothing. If I didn’t win after a whole day to prepare, I couldn’t call myself an Ultimate. Still,” He glanced away. “...it was a good discussion.” 

Was it? It felt like a landslide. At one point, Damon had even started arguing for Desmond’s side, just so he could provide more counterarguments. 

He looked neither smug nor particularly happy, just calm, as if this was the only possible outcome. It would’ve been annoying, but Desmond could understand – he would feel the same in any shooting contest. There was no satisfaction from beating amateurs in a subject you’re an expert in. 

Damon cleared his throat. “It’s… been a while since I’ve been able to practice, so thanks. I’ve been getting rusty without opportunities to train.”

It was said in a halfhearted tone, but Desmond knew it was genuine. After all, the rest of the students either wouldn’t pose a challenge or didn’t want to talk to Damon for… understandable reasons. The only person who could have given Damon a challenge was… dead.

Desmond remembered what Damon said during the class trial. It was impossible to hate a guy like Wolfgang. He pushed me to be a better person.

Damn, how depressing. 

“You’re seriously good at this,” Desmond said, both because he meant it and also to break his suddenly somber mood.

Damon looked away. “Is that a surprise? It’s my talent after all.”

“Yeah, but I’m just surprised by how versatile it is. You really meant it when you said any topic was within your wheelhouse.”

Damon shrugged. “I enjoy studying. Besides, it’s not so different from what you do.”

What?  “How so?”

In response, Damon turned on his watch and navigated to the profile page. “‘Doesn’t matter how fast and far, the Ultimate Marksman can hit any target with any ranged weapon of his choice’.” Damon quoted. “You said you trained 4 hours a day, right? So then, you must hone your body to peak athleticism to maintain your talent.”

He really gave me a compliment in the most roundabout way, Desmond thought. It was almost endearing. He wouldn’t appreciate it if I said that, though. 

Damon continued, “I also admit that I underestimated your talent at first, but it’s more useful than I had anticipated.”

'Underestimated your talent' – the phrase reminded Desmond of something. “You mean, when you called all of our talents ‘niche fixations’ with no worth to society?”

“...I didn’t say all of your talents, but yes,” Damon replied. If he was bothered with having his words thrown back at his face, he didn’t show it. “I didn’t mean to be harsh by the way – It’s just the truth. Ultimates have to be able to use their skills to improve the lives of others; otherwise, what’s even the point of having the title in the first place?”

“I’ll admit some of our classmates’ talents are more niche," Desmond conceded, "but that doesn’t mean they deserve their titles any less. All skills can be used to help people in some way.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Are you serious? What does the Ultimate Influencer have to contribute? Or the Ultimate Pro Gamer? The most they’ll ever contribute is starting some trend or providing mindless entertainment for a few hours.”

Desmond frowned. “Hey, those are our friends. You shouldn’t speak about them like that,” he admonished. 

“They’re not our friends. None of us are friends. We’re just strangers who happened to get kidnapped by the same deranged organization,” Damon snapped back. “If it weren’t for that, we wouldn’t even be interacting with each other.”

“That’s not true. We all had our own reasons to accept the academy’s invitation, but when you get down to it, I think we all were looking for a community to be a part of. We’re all Ultimates already, we can cultivate our talents just fine on our own. The fact that you decided to come here anyway must mean that you didn’t want to continue doing things that way.”

Being an Ultimate was an inherently isolating existence. To be at the top required a level of competitiveness and obsession that pushed everything else to the side. Even in a long

“It’s true that I came here to meet Ultimates who share the same thinking as me,” Damon looked away. “But it’s clear now that it was all a farce. From what I’ve gathered, our letters all contained different details on what to expect from the academy – details tailored to our specific interests and values. For me, they promoted a specialized experience for ‘academic talents’. For Kai, it said a ‘normal schooling experience’ separate from the pressures of being an Ultimate.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize,” Desmond said. “But then again, it makes sense. My letter definitely didn’t mention academics.” 

“Yeah, it was all just bait to lure us into this killing game,” Damon shook his head. “It’s the only reason I came in the first place. Do you seriously think that I’d be hanging around, if I had a choice?”

“You have a point,” Desmond rubbed the back of his neck. “But sometimes it’s good to meet people with different perspectives. Even if the other students aren’t what you expected, that doesn’t mean they don’t have anything valuable to offer. Maybe if you opened your mindset a bit, you’d find that they aren’t as bad as you think.”

Damon looked at him flatly. “I think we’ve spent plenty of time together already, and most of them are nothing more than distractions. Cassidy’s a nuisance and Kai follows me around like a kicked puppy. ”

This guy… “Hey, cut that out. Cassidy treats you the same way as everyone else, and Kai tries to involve you, even when no one else wants you around. No matter how you feel about them, you could at least show them the courtesy they’re showing you.”

It was harsh, harsher than Desmond ever liked being, but sometimes that was the only way to get through to someone as hardheaded as him. He didn’t have much hope in his words actually reaching him, but surprisingly, Damon appeared almost scolded. That quickly morphed into indignation, as he bristled defensively. “Like you can talk,” he snapped. “You’re seriously calling them ‘courteous’ after the shit that’s happened? Don’t act like you guys are so kind and innocent, when it’s your fault that–”

He cut himself off, gritting his teeth tightly together. “Whatever,” Damon bit out, before walking away, too prideful to storm off like he obviously wanted to. Desmond looked after him, thoughts spinning. 

He judges Ultimates so harshly, treating them as inferior if they don’t meet his expectations. It’s such a cold way to treat other people… but this is more than just judgement. This is personal.

I didn’t realize that Damon was close to her. He accused her without the slightest hesitation, and she tried to frame him without remorse. At the very end, she hated all of us. 

If he blames us for her death, it's no wonder that he can't bear to be around us. And yet, he doesn't seem to mind my company as much as the others. Somehow, at some point of time, I've earned his respect. 

—---------  4  —---------

They didn’t speak for another few days. In fact, Damon seemed to avoid him. Not to the extent of leaving the room when Desmond was around, but his gaze would slide off like water, as if Desmond wasn’t even there.

It was a bit cute in an exasperating way. After being told off once, he suddenly acts shy. Still, Desmond had wanted to isolate him less, not more, so he decided to break the ice. 

“Here, catch.” Desmond tossed a package toward Damon, which he promptly fumbled… then dropped.

There was an awkward silence. Desmond carefully didn’t comment, as Damon slowly picked up the package, face flushed. He opened it and stared at the contents – a melon bun. “What’s this for?”

“I won it from the gachapon. I’m not a huge fan of sweets, so I figured I’d give it to you.”

“So, you just gave me your unwanted trash,” Damon deadpanned. After examining the packaging for a bit, he took a bite. “...it’s not bad, I guess.”

He obviously likes it, but won’t admit it. …it’s a bit endearing. 

Damon’s eyes narrowed, which might have been more effective if his cheeks weren’t swollen with pastry. “I haven’t changed my mind about our conversation,” he said sharply. 

“I figured you didn’t.” Desmond replied, unbothered. “I wouldn’t expect the Ultimate Debater to back down so easily.”

“Then, why are you talking to me? Don’t you hate what I said?”

Desmond thought about how to respond. “I definitely disagree," he admitted. "Frankly, I think that that way of thinking is harmful. But, at the end of the day, just because we have different viewpoints doesn’t mean we can’t get along. As long as your feelings don’t actually harm anyone, we can just agree to disagree.”

Damon scowled. “I hate that phrase.”

“Yeah, it really doesn’t fit the Ultimate Debater, does it?” Desmond shrugged. 

Damon seemed to have trouble accepting Desmond's relaxed attitude. He squinted. “...it really doesn’t bother you?”

“No,” Desmond said. 

Damon’s face became carefully impassive. He looked so genuinely confused that it was a bit funny. 

Finally, he spoke. “I’m a pretty opinionated guy,” Damon said slowly. “It’s a part of debating – you have to show people that your opinion is a fact. That part of me – it tends to bother people.”

Yeah, Desmond had gotten the feeling that Damon’s bluntness got him in trouble. He didn’t seem like a guy with many friends. 

Damon continued, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I’m the Ultimate Debater – you have to be willing to debate, not fold over at the slightest opposition. It’s just a part of my talent, so I don’t get why people–”

He cut himself off, too frustrated to continue. “Whatever, it’s nothing. Thanks for the bread.” Damon walked away, leaving Desmond staring after his back, puzzled. 

It was the most personal thing Damon had ever said about himself. He was normally such a disinterested, aloof guy, that seeing him genuinely bothered was surprising. 

A debater who struggles to communicate with others – And I thought Damon hated oxymorons. He’s a prick, and he’s never apologized for it, but maybe that’s not as intentional as it seems. 

…I can’t be completely sympathetic, since he brought a lot of it on himself, but… it must be difficult to not be understood. 

—---------  5  —---------

The next time Desmond saw Damon, he seemed lost in thought. 

“What’s up?” 

“Gah!” Damon startled, jolting away. “What the hell?! Don’t just appear like that!”

“Oops, my bad.” Desmond had pretty light footsteps, but then again, Damon was easy to startle. He’s a pretty jumpy dude. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Damon grumbled. Desmond chose not to comment. 

“So, how are you?” Desmond asked. “You seemed lost in thought.”

Damon hesitated. “I was thinking about… society.”

That’s broad. “What about it?”

Damon deliberated for a moment, as if weighing the correct words, before suddenly asking:

“What is the best quality for a person to have?”

Huh? The abrupt question made Desmond pause, but he tried to answer it the best he could. For Desmond, the answer would obviously be discipline, but what would Damon think?

• Skill in debate
• Intelligence
• Utility

“Is it... being skilled in debate?” 

Damon side-eyed him. “...the hell? How egotistical do you think I am?”

Desmond smiled apologetically. He’s pretty prideful, but even that’s too much. 

“Intelligence?”

Damon hummed. “That’s important, but it’s only a part of it.”

Not intelligence? Then, from what I’ve learned about Damon so far…

Desmond finally understood. “Utility.”

Damon nodded in approval. “That’s right. Utility– being helpful to society. That’s what elevates the elites from the common folk… and it’s what separates true Ultimates from the stock the UTP keeps churning out.”

‘True Ultimates’. That reminded Desmond of something he’s been wanting to ask. “When we talked before, you said that you underestimated my talent at first. What changed your mind?”

Damon hummed. “After talking more, I realized that your talent has more practical uses than I thought.”

“More practical uses?”

“Well, after some thought, I realized that marksmanship had some practical uses that goes beyond entertainment. For example, your aim would make you the perfect soldier. A sniper that never misses no matter the distance could be catastrophic in the right scenario…”

Desmond grimaced. “No way, I’d never become a soldier.”

Damon waved it off. “Then, your knowledge as the Ultimate Marksmen could be useful for designing arms and other ranged weapons. The class trial was an example of how helpful an expert’s opinion can be.”

“I wouldn’t want to design weapons either. I hate violence of any kind.”

Damon narrowed his eyes, a tinge of impatience creeping in. “Hey, you already went to the Olympics, so what else are you going to do with your talent? I mean, it’s not like I enjoy violence either, but I’m a debater — speech is my expertise. If anything, violence would be right up a marksmen’s alley.”

“That’s just a stereotype,” Desmond retorted. “You shouldn’t make a judgement just from my talent.”

Still, it was an interesting question, one that Desmond hadn’t thought about lately. He stalled for some time to think by turning it back on Damon. “Well, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You talk about my talent as if it has limited utility, but what makes your talent any different from mine? Debating seems pretty niche to me.” 

“Are you kidding?” Damon bristled. “You still say that even after I’ve shown you how versatile my abilities are? Any topic, any audience, any conclusion – there’s limitless potential. I could influence the most powerful politicians to change public policy or stop a war as a foreign diplomat.”

“You don’t seem like the most diplomatic dude to me,” Desmond replied dryly. 

Damon ignored him. “The most obvious example is this killing game. We all would have died if I didn’t step in and reveal Eva’s plan! And you’re trying to convince me that you seriously think my talent doesn’t have a use?” Of all things, this seemed to bother Damon the most.

“The killing game is specifically designed for investigations and class trials,” Desmond pointed out. “If it was a normal killing game, your talent would be useless.”

Damon scoffed. “And your talent would be so useful, except for the fact that you hate violence, so you’d be just as dead as me! No, stop deflecting. Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing? Misdirection is one of the first tactics I ever learned. Answer my question: What are you going to do with your talent?”

Desmond was backed into a corner. He had taken all of this time to think of an answer – He had to answer. And the answer was:

“I don’t know.”

Damon was stunned. It was the most uncertain Desmond had ever seen him, even in the face of literal death. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Desmond repeated, patiently.

The debater recovered, confusion transforming to anger. “What? Don’t you want to use your talent for something? What’s the point of all that training and skill if you don’t do anything with it?”

Desmond tilted his head to the side. “Does there have to be a point?”

Damon reeled back. “What…?”

“Why does there have to be a bigger meaning behind my actions? I started shooting because I enjoy it –  even with my trainers breathing down my back, I’ve always enjoyed it. Surely it’s the same for you too. Does that have to change, just because I’m now an Ultimate?”

“Of course, it has to change!” Damon snapped. “Being an Ultimate – it elevates us above everyone else! It’s the difference from your talent being a hobby to being a calling, a real chance to make a difference in the world! Taking that title means that you take a duty as well – to represent the best that the world has to offer. An Ultimate who ignores their obligations is just leeching off the benefits of a prestigious title!”

…okay. 

Damon breathed harshly after that long outburst. His face was flushed with anger and contempt, but underneath that, Desmond could detect a hint of something else. It was disappointment.

That speech was some of the most pretentious stuff Desmond had ever heard. And yet, Desmond could only feel pity. 

“...do… you even like your talent?” Desmond asked. “Because when you talk like that, it’s like it’s only a means to an end for you.”

Damon’s lips pressed together tightly. Finally, he said, “Of course. It’s who I am.”

That’s not true. No one can be solely defined by one thing, not even Ultimates. Even though Desmond’s talent is a large part of his identity, it doesn’t wholly consume him. Maybe for Damon, it has.

To only live to uphold a meaningless title… is pretty sad. 

Desmond breathed out slowly. “Damon, you’ve just proven my point,” Desmond said. “None of us are doing anything for society here. We’re all just trying to survive. Maybe that makes us leeches to you, but if you want to judge anyone here, you should take a look at yourself, and see whether you’re truly better than the rest of us.”

Damon stared at him at a loss of words. The Ultimate Debater, silenced — it was almost pitiful to watch. In a way, it felt like Desmond was betraying Damon. But, they had never agreed in the first place and they both knew it. Still, Desmond couldn’t help but feel a bit of regret.

“Sorry, man,” Desmond patted him on the shoulder. “Just… think about it, alright?”

Damon shook him away. “Fuck off.”

Desmond obliged. He had nothing to say that Damon would want to hear. He left the other to stew in the aftermath of their last debate – the debate Desmond finally won.

....

As Desmond walked back to his room, he thought about their conversation. There were a lot of things he wanted to say. That it was okay if Damon didn’t like his talent, and no one would judge him for wanting to be something else. That if Damon lived the rest of his life not contributing to anything, he’d still have done something worthwhile because that’s just living. Stuff like that, but when Desmond tries to put it into words, they scattered away, breath that would never coalesce into something meaningful. 

Desmond had always wished he was better with words. If he found the right ones, would he have changed the outcome?

…no, he doesn’t think so. As their many encounters have proven, Damon could run circles around Desmond in a discussion. And, it wasn’t really Desmond’s place to tell him something like that. 

Maybe if Desmond had been the Ultimate Debater, he would have known what to say. He wouldn’t have apologized. It was the wrong move, and just served to make Damon loathe him even more. But, he felt like he had to. It was an apology made more for assuaging his own guilt than anything else, and that made Damon’s reaction completely justified. 

I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person to understand you.

What was done was done. He couldn’t change the past, only hope for a better future — that Damon might realize the truth on his own. 

Desmond was optimistic about it. A good debater could convince himself of anything with the right incentive. And Damon was a damn good debater. That would always be the truth, even if he wasn’t an Ultimate one. 

....

“Desmond!”

A familiar, softspoken voice startled Desmond out of his thoughts. He looked up, already beginning to smile. “Eloise! What have you been up to?”

“...not much. There’s not a lot of things to do here.”

“Tell me about it…” Desmond sighed. “You want to hang out in the courtyard?”

“Sure…”

As they headed to the courtyard, Eloise spoke. “Is… is something wrong? You seem a bit… sad.”

Desmond quickly began to reassure her. “It’s nothing, I just had an argument with a– friend.”

Eloise tilted her head to the side. “Is it… Damon?”

Desmond blinked in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Well…” she said softly, “you’ve been talking to him more lately. And… Damon is the only one you’d hesitate to call a friend, I think.”

Desmond winced. “That makes sense. Though, to be honest, I don’t think he’ll consider me a friend anymore. I said some things that really seemed to hurt him.”

“He doesn’t seem like a person who gets easily hurt by what other people say… Otherwise, he wouldn’t be a good debater.”

Desmond shook his head. “No. This was different.”

Eloise pondered this for a bit. “I– I think he’ll be okay,” she finally said. 

“What makes you say that? You don’t know him very well, right?”

“No… but I know you.” Eloise’s voice steadied a little. “And… I know you wouldn’t hurt someone’s feelings unless you were trying to help them.”

To put so much faith in him– the weight of that was enough to put Desmond into a stun-lock. Something warm and heavy settled in his chest — a mix of guilt and comfort.

“Eloise… thanks.”

“I only told the truth.” She smiled shyly.

He smiled back, then reached out and pulled her into a hug.

....

That night, Desmond thought more about what Damon had said. 

He hadn’t wanted to dwell on it before—but now, the question pressed itself into his mind: what would he do next?

He had already reached the Olympics. There was no next step, no battle that he could beat his body against, no remaining goal he could pleasure in the struggle to achieve. He had finally reached the end of the road, after a lifetime spent racing to the finish line, but now that he’s made it, he finds himself looking back and wishing he spent a little more time taking in the journey. 

Desmond prided himself on his iron-clad discipline, but without a goal, could that discipline be maintained? 

…what was he thinking. He obviously had a goal, and that was to survive the killing game. 

I swear with everything I've got… that we will survive. I’ll protect everyone. Everyone. 

Even a certain debater, who wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

With that thought, a quiet resolve settled in his chest. Desmond finally drifted to sleep.