Are You The Complete Player?

1/2 ARE YOU THE WEAKEST LINK?

CHAPTER SEVEN: ARE YOU THE WEAKEST LINK?

“Krys, wake up. Wake the hell up. I’m scared....” Krystupas heard Will’s agitated voice rousing him from a deep sleep.

“I got a death threat for making it to the singles final. Someone threatened to kill me. I’m telling you, it’s one of those losers,” Will said, raging, but still sounding frightened.

Krystupas and Will shared a room in a hotel in Rotterdam where they were currently playing a tournament in which they were also doubles partners. It was dawn time on a Saturday.

“What time is it?” Krystupas asked groggily, checking his watch. “Maybe it’s just a prank. You should get some sleep. We’re playing doubles finals today, remember?”

“How can I sleep when there’s a threat on my life? How can you just talk tennis when my life is clearly in danger?” Will asked angrily.

“Don’t you plan to kill people all the time, like for fun? Are they really in danger from you, then?” Krystupas asked annoyed.

“That’s not the point. You know, everyone on tour is jealous of me. Because I win titles left and right, and I have you. Everyone wants me dead,” Will Cortez said. “This is a serious death threat.”

“What do you mean you have me? I’m not yours. You sound creepy, Will Cortez,” Krystupas said irritably.

“That’s not what I mean! I mean, you are my best friend” Will explained.

“Whatever, man. Maybe you’re just paranoid. Just let it go. You’ve probably smoked too much weed. I told you to quit it already. It will ruin your career in the long run. Look at you being paranoid over nothing. I’m going to sleep. I swear if you flop on court during our match, I’m going to kill you myself,” Krystupas said furiously, as he covered his face with a blanket in an attempt to go back to sleep.

“I swear to God, Krys, if something bad happens to me, it’s your fault,” Will said in disbelief.

***

Krystupas woke with a start. He could still hear Will’s voice in his head as if the conversation had happened just yesterday. Was Will right? Was his disappearance Krystupas’ fault? The tournament in Rotterdam was their last tournament together. They had to retire from their finals match, because Krystupas had unfortunately suffered from a severe Achilles tendon injury when his foot landed badly in an attempt to retrieve the ball during one of the plays in the match. He wasn’t able to compete in the next tournament held in St. Petersburg, Russia, where Will Cortez mysteriously vanished.

He sometimes wondered if the death threat Will had allegedly received a few weeks before his disappearance was real all along. Maybe someone had murdered Will and left his body to rot somewhere…

“Hi, Pavlis,” a smiling Selene Argyros greeted him. He looked past her and noticed Marco Torres standing behind her, engrossed with something.

“Hey, dude,” Krystupas headed over to Marco to talk, oblivious to Selene trying to chalk up a conversation with him.

“Dude? I’m not a…” Selene complained, then realised Krystupas was talking to Marco Torres, not to her. He couldn’t even be bothered to spare Selene a glance for a second. “Is that a watch? My watch is missing from my stuff,” Krystupas asked Marco.

“This was missing from my stuff, too. Now it’s just back, but it’s not working anymore,” Marco frowned. “Check among your things. Maybe they returned yours, too.”

“Aren’t you guys joining the memorial?” Selene asked impatiently, this time facing Marco.

“I don’t see the point. Why would they even hold a memorial for Liam Tremblay? It’s not like we will not all die in here anyway,” Marco shrugged.

“Who is holding a memorial for Tremblay?” asked Krystupas.

“Everyone? I’d rather stay here, smoke my lungs out, and figure out a way to make it out of here alive. That sounds more appealing to me,” Marco answered.

Krystupas made his way past Marco to head over to the memorial. He didn’t particularly care for Liam Tremblay. He was just curious why Liam was getting a memorial service, not the others who died before him.

Lost in his own thoughts and not really looking his way, he bumped into a girl hard. The impact sent her toppling to the ground. She glared at him as he helped her get back up.

“Is the memorial over? I’m sorry I wasn’t looking, I didn’t see you on my way,” Krystupas said. The girl was Crina Aldea, the undisputed glare queen in women’s tennis. “Where are you headed to?”

“It’s still ongoing and painfully boring. I think I’d rather join Marco Torres,” Crina responded.

“To smoke?” Krystupas asked before he could stop himself.

“And figure a way out of this hell alive. Any problem?” Crina asked, glaring at him.

“Nothing. I’m just curious, is all. Is there any problem?” Krystupas asked sarcastically. He felt bad bumping against her accidentally, but now he wanted to laugh remembering the look on her face when she got toppled to the ground.

Crina kept glaring at him but didn’t answer. Selene, who was just watching their exchange open-mouthed, finally spoke, “At least he talked to you. That’s more than he ever did with me, in like, forever.”

***

Marek’s eyes were full of tears and his voice was breaking when he spoke, “Liam Tremblay, bro, I will always remember how I would feel whenever we had to play against each other. I tremble everytime I see your name in my draw…” He laughed humourlessly at his own pun.

Artem, who refused to speak about the details in the WIC experiment he and Liam were a part of, remained silent. Galyna had been comforting him, but he refused to talk about it with anyone, not even his wife. Miroslav, Gavro, Dragan, Drew, Lev, Akira and Aksel were sitting on the floor, their heads bowed down in grief, while most of the girls were standing, forming a circle around Freja who seemed to have not stopped crying all night over losing her boyfriend.

“You are going to be missed, bro, and I promise you we will take care of Freja for you. We will escape from this place,” Marek continued. Miroslav poked him in the ribs to give him a silent warning not to talk about escape because WIC might hear him.

Miroslav handed out a small piece of paper to everyone gathered in the crowd. “It’s… something to remember Liam by,” he said. When the other players read what was written on it, some of them looked at Miroslav with fear and worry, but Miroslav didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

“Did I miss the drama around here?” the robotic voice was suddenly back, as Krystupas made his way to sit beside Carmella. She was sitting alone in a corner and writing something in her notebook. “Too much drama in this place, wouldn’t you say so, Adela Horackova?”

The players glanced at Adela confused on what the voice was alluding to. Adela’s eyes were red as if she had been crying for hours. “For those of you who didn’t know, her twin Tereza Horackova, died last night for taking off her bracelet.”

Gavro glanced from the paper to Miroslav again, upon hearing about Tereza’s tragic death, but Miroslav’s gaze remained on the floor.

“Anyway, let’s bring back the excitement in this place,” the voice said. Suddenly, a hologram appeared on the walls around them containing the total scores of the first and second games. Mira Ivanova was still leading, followed by Carmella Cortez, Lucija Babic, Grace Brown, and the only guy inside the top 5, Luis Rojaz Navarro. Basil Andino, Krystupas Pavlis and Pietro Romano rounded up the current top 8. Gavro Nikolic and Galyna Bondar were tied at the bottom of the list.

Galyna cried nervous tears seeing her name at the bottom. Artem consoled her and reminded her through a whisper that the score didn’t matter because they were going to escape anyway. Galyna nodded but couldn’t stop the tears falling down her face. She would rather play tennis than whatever this sick WIC competition was.

“To the six players at the bottom of the list, let’s put you in the spotlight you deserve,” the voice said, mocking. Suddenly, the players noticed a makeshift stage that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. It was near the spot they had gathered around for Liam’s memorial.

“Galyna Bondar of Ukraine,” the voice called calmly.

“No, she isn’t going in there,” Artem protested. “You said there would be enough chances for players at the bottom to improve their place!”

“I guess your husband here wants drama. Don’t you, Artem Bondar? I’ll give you what you want,” the voice said.

The hologram disappeared and in its place was a report about Artem Bondar having been caught having s****l relations with a teenage player. Everyone was shocked, but no gasp was as audible as Galyna’s. She felt her heart breaking while staring at the report that looked authentic to her.

“Is this true?” Galyna asked her husband, she could feel her knees threatening to buckle down any minute. All of her strength was dwindling fast.

“I… Darling, that’s not how it looks like. I would never…” Artem said, panicking.

But it was already clear to Galyna what the truth was, just by looking at Artem’s face. “You’re disgusting. Don’t touch me!” Galyna spat at him venomously. She made her way to the stage, sobbing quietly. Artem knelt before her apologising over and over but she refused to look in his direction.

“Aww, that was so sad. I’m crying,” the voice said in a fake sad tone. “Anyway, Gavro Nikolic of Serbia, come up on the stage. Hold Galyna’s hand.”

Gavro hesitated and looked at Miroslav as if waiting for him to rescue him last minute but Miroslav still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Gavro made his way wordlessly to the stage, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Michalis Ioannou of Cyprus, go to the spotlight now,” the voice instructed.

“And wait for my death to come? The hell I will,” Michalis spat.

“Michalis, your timer is running out. Go to the stage. NOW,” the voice warned. It sounded angry more than robotic now.

“What’s the difference? You’ll kill me either way. I’m not going to the freaking stage to die in the spotlight. You psycho can go suck your – ”

Michalis never got to finish his sentence. He dropped to the ground, brains blown off in a matter of seconds.

“Holy sheez!” Maxim swore under his breath.

“Oops, sorry about that, players. Mr. Ioannou, how do you feel now that you’re in the spotlight? Oh, wait, you don’t feel a thing anymore, you’re dead.”

The voice laughed like a maniac, before it went back to its business-like voice: “Daniela Perez of Venezuela, your turn.”

Daniela took a deep breath as she made her way to the stage next to Gavro. She was silently praying WIC was just messing with their heads again and wouldn’t really kill them.

“Estere Kavace of Latvia, you’re up next,” the voice continued.

“No, no, no Estere, don’t go! I’m not letting you die,” Aimilie lamented.

“It’s going to be fine, Aims. Calm down,” Estere said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.

“No, I’m not letting you die,” Aimilie repeated, this time with edge on her voice. “Steal, steal!” Aimilie started yelling at the disembodied voice. “I want to steal Estere’s spot on the stage.”

“Aww, I’m so touched. You mean you want to steal like you stole that makeup kit from a cosmetic store in Estonia two years ago? No, Aimilie Tamm. I’m sorry to let you know, this time, no steal. Estere, come up on stage. Your time is running out.”

Estere hugged Aimilie quickly and whispered, “I love you. Be strong for me.” Aimilie couldn’t help the tears from falling down her face as she watched Estere make her way to the stage with the other players who won the fewest points overall.

“Aksel Olsen of Norway, take your spot,” the voice ordered.

“Dude,” Lev cried. But Aksel tried not to look at him or at anyone. Aksel knew he needed to be brave. Delaying his death by following an order was certainly better than dying on the spot for refusing to play along.

“And finally, we have best friends Astro Lindahl of Australia and Adam Evans of Great Britain,” the voice said in an attempt to sound suspenseful.

“What? No! You said 6 lowest! I’m the 7th lowest, and I’m tied with Adam. He had been wanting to die for a while now. Let him die instead. I refuse to freaking die with him, do you hear me? You said six, not seven! You can’t even follow your own rules!”

“You have a point, Astro Lindahl,” the voice said in agreement. “I’d much prefer the two of you on the stage together, because you know what they say: ‘the more, the merrier,’ but I’ll also accept just one of you to be the representative,” the voice said in amusement.

“Adam, mate, I’ve been saving your pathetic ass over and over. Do this for me. Volunteer to freaking die instead of me! Come on!” Astro yelled at his friend.

“Adam, what do you say? Do you volunteer?” the voice asked. Adam Evans glanced around him. Everyone was holding their breath. He saw Joanna seated beside Hana Watanabe, shaking her head at him, tears all over her face.

“I’m… not volunteering,” he said which shocked everyone.

“Do I still need to go the stage?” Adam asked the disembodied voice when he did not hear further instructions.

“What!” Astro yelled angrily. “You owe your life to me, ass’hole! You can’t do this!”

“No, Adam, you don’t have to. I think Astro would take his place on the stage for the both of you, like he always did in previous challenges. Who knew Tennis Bad Boy actually got a heart in him?” the voice said in an amused tone.

“I’m sorry, man,” Adam said. Astro gave him a dirty finger in response. Astro had no choice but to walk through the stage. He had never been angrier in his life. At that point, it was as if he hated Adam as much as he hated WIC.

“Once again, I introduce to you all, our six WIC-kest links,” the voice continued with a chuckle. “Galyna Bondar, Gavro Nikolic, Daniela Perez, Estere Kavace, Aksel Olsen and Astro ‘the tennis bad boy’ Lindahl. Hold one another’s hands, players.”

The six players did as were instructed. Suddenly, a song called “Gone with the Wind” started playing over the speakers as the six players vanished from everyone’s sight.