209. Playing by the Rules
209
Playing by the Rules
M aya
Badass. I straighten my shoulders and hurry down the steps at A’Dar’s side. All the while, I’m reinventing myself in my mind.
I’m no longer an admin in a strip mall insurance office. I’m Maya Decker, badass extraordinaire. My lifespan can probably be measured in minutes, perhaps hours, certainly not days or weeks or years. In that time, though, I’m going to be a badass bitch who, in the kill or be killed question, is going to try her damnedest to be on the “kill” side of the equation.
Idly, I wonder if my new attitude is simply a matter of the horrific circumstances of being in this game, or if part of it is the new composition of my DNA.
When we hit Deck Two, A’Dar puts one clawed finger over his lips, opens the door a fraction, and scans the hallway. He nods and eases out as I follow him, a knife in each hand.
As he strides toward our destination, I follow closely behind, on guard for anything. Those two females had to know we were in that stairwell, and although we weren’t exactly silent, I don’t think they heard us in this vessel, which is longer than several city blocks.
The remaining 40 females didn’t rise to the top of the food chain by being stupid. They’re probably holed up somewhere in ones and twos, and if they’re smart, they’re watching the TGN feed. Zedd must be televising us.
I’ve been watching the vid feed off and on when I wasn’t otherwise occupied. TGN shows every kill—repeatedly and in slow motion, usually with gleeful commentary. They don’t have a galaxy-wide audience for no reason. They’re good at what they do. Which is, when they can’t play the last ten kills one more time without boring their audience, it shows what the contestants are up to.
I’ve seen big, tough aliens crouched in corners crying. I’ve seen one tucked under a blanket in a closet trying to get some shuteye. Most surprising of all was one who appeared to be not just masturbating but orgasming in what looked like a movie theater. I don’t know what was most surprising about it. Was it that she was seeking carnal pleasure alone at a time like this, or that she was doing it by furiously rubbing her collarbone? I chalked it up to stress relief.
So, I have no doubt TGN is broadcasting our whereabouts. That’s not going to make things any easier.
Jahzara Zedd
This reminds me of the summer camp on Numa my parents sent me to when I was in secondary school. They presented it as a gift, something I would enjoy and look back on fondly when I was older.
It was only years later my older sister told me that according to my parents, the goal had been “to get you out of the house and possibly help you learn to be a better person and make some friends.”
Bitch. I think she took a certain amount of glee when she informed me of that.
I shrug. Whatever they’d tried to do, it hadn’t worked. I am who I am and I see nothing wrong with it.
This reminds me of summer camp in both the level of discomfort in the sleeping conditions and the extreme boredom.
I know, I know. The non-discerning viewing public is probably thrilled with the number of kills per hour we’re providing. I must admit, it’s surpassed any of our previous seasons on that score.
And the female-on-female action has also been a boon to the ratings. Perhaps there’s something that appeals to males’ latent anger. They seem to take gleeful pleasure at seeing females kill each other with such enthusiasm.
Except for the four Earther females, all the others were “donated” by the most notorious female prisons in the Galaxy. The wardens were only too happy to get rid of their most violent and troublesome prisoners who were in for life sentences or on death row. The females should thank me for giving them a glorious death.
It’s been our best season yet for ratings, and the purchase of Havoc Packages is trending better than expected.
Perhaps it’s just me, personally, who is disappointed. Not just disappointed. Unhappy.
My three remaining little Earthers were missing in action. Now that they’ve finally emerged from hiding, I can piece together what happened. The cheaters have gotten help.
How they managed to get three Xenons out of stasis is beyond me. Nor do I understand why. How they tamed one of the most predatory species in the galaxy is also a mystery to me. As is how they managed to evade my cameras. And if I’m not mistaken, are they taller than they were? It must be a trick of the lighting.
What does not baffle me, however, is how to make all six of their lives a living hell from now on.
“Never worry, little Earthers. I have something special planned for you,” I sing. No one can hear me in here, although there are two females right next door on the bridge. They’re working together as a team, killing all comers. They’re doing so well together, they just might be the last two females standing.
Except if I play by the original rules, one of them will have to die. One thing is certain. I will not play by the original rules. Things will be worse. Much worse.