35 #2
“Because when the time comes, I would very much like to chop your heads off with my favourite daggers, not an arrow. I will keep your skulls as trophies.”
That is also true, she explains through the bond.
That makes more sense.
I am undecided whether I will be able to wait long enough for you to be ready, but I will try to give you that gift because you have been such an exemplary puppet, she continues further.
Oh . . . ummm . . . thank you. We can . . . do it together? What am I even saying? Like . . . you can have Troy, and I’ll, uh . . . get rid of Aider.
Very good. I agree.
I am in disbelief I just had that conversation.
“One minute remaining.”
“You two having a little chit-chat through the bond?” Aider drawls, lip curling slightly.
Then a vile glint enters his eyes as he looks me up and down like I’m no better than the dirt on the bottom on his shoe .
. . not that we even get dirt on the bottom of our shoes in Techta when the majority of surfaces are regularly-cleaned taalk, unless you’re in one of the nature areas or somewhere like The Courtyard.
“Don’t you know how fucking freakish he is?
I know all his dirty little secrets. We used to be friends once, you know? ”
My lip quivers, and my eyes get blurry embarrassingly fast, shoulders curving inwards as I shrink behind Ezla, reverting back to my old self in the face of these memories that pummel me: How close me and Aider used to be.
How I told him everything before he turned on me for no reason other than my supposed weakness.
The torture of my school years because of him.
All the rumours and twisted truths spread around Evot Training School in both second and third school.
“You know he used to sleep with stuffed animals because he couldn’t get hard, and that was the only thing that worked—”
“That’s not true!” I cry, panic and humiliation drowning me.
“Please—that’s not true, Ezla! I just liked the teddies—I liked collecting them!
I swear! I-I’ve never even c-cared about that!
And I haven’t ever even got hard before you!
” I don’t have a filter on my mouth with the terror tearing me up inside, and the mortifying words escape before I can stop them.
Tears leak down my face because I know Ezla will definitely think I’m a freak now if Aider hadn’t already succeeded in making her think so.
“See? That’s some erectile dysfunction shit. You sure you want to ride it when it might not stay har—”
Ezla’s arrow slams straight through his neck.
A strangled sound escapes him at the same moment Tate and Cooper appear from thin air and tackle the two Exots in his group, Troy backing up on his elephant feet with wide eyes as Scotty and Tiger rush into the fray a moment later, as if they’d heard the commotion but only just managed to get here.
I’ve been so focused on the nightmare over here that I don’t even know what’s been going on with any other Players, and relief rushes through me now to see the other guys are all okay.
“Game 3 is over. I repeat, Game 3 is over.”
When it’s obvious the wild grapple on the ground isn’t about to let up anytime soon, Ezla booms, “Everyone up! The Game is over! Alby will get his vengeance in due time, but he does not have the time right now!”
All heads whip her way while she says only to me, Unless you would like to?
However, I have unfortunately taken up a few too many liberties lately, and I am afraid if you break the rules of killing after the countdown has reached all zeroes, I may not be able to keep you from The Council’s punishment.
It would be . . . very unfortunate for you to be executed.
You may kill him later, however, if you wish.
It is certainly no problem for Players to eliminate each other back in the Training Centre, even if it has not been done before.
Wow . . . she’s never said so much in one go.
I’m also half comforted and half freaked out by the range of information in there.
“Alby?!” Tiger gasps, everyone too focused on the fact Ezla called me by my name for the first time in front of them to ask for whatever words she gave me—it was pretty obvious by the pause and my enlarged eyes that she’d spoken to me mind to mind. “Oh my! This is exciting!”
“Do me,” Tate insists, still crushing a wheezing Exot against the floor with his muscled body. “Wanna hear that hot-as-fuck voice say my name, Havoc.”
“Ugh! Get the fuck off!” the Exot beneath him spits in disgust, writhing around like a bug as he tries to dislodge my .
. . friend. Yes, that’s what he is, and I still can’t believe I have those, the term shocking every time I think it.
“I can feel your junk prodding into me even through the sinthine!”
Tate looks furious at once, digging a livid glare into the man. “Fucker! That’s my Havoc’s dick! You don’t deserve to be anywhere near it!” He leaps to his feet in a way I still don’t understand how he can with his size, then turns to his obsession.
Only after delivering a kick to the Exot’s side that’s so hard the sound of impact seems to bounce off the walls.
“Fucking psycho!” Player 84 wheezes, curling in on himself.