The Hollow Game.

Chapter Twelve

Elaine Brooks was honestly regretting her decision to enter the Game. When she had woken up, her shoulders sore and half her face stiff and uncomfortable, she had wondered if it wasn’t all some illusion and she had instead been in a wreck.

But the thick chains and panicked whispers and the overwhelming darkness changed her mind. It wasn’t until she had been bought before all those people-- all that light-- that she seriously regretted her hastily decided, spur of the moment decision. And now she was in a freaking metal cage watching with wide eyes as her barely conscious, hardly stable brother stood just out of reach, staring blankly at the rapidly rising gate across from them. She wanted to scream, to rage, to shout at him to run and not look back but each time she opened her mouth the words faded like smoke on the water.

The gate rose higher and she had a fleeting thought that at least he wasn’t facing whatever came out alone. Beside him were two men, both with dark hair, and a red headed woman. None of them looked like they were even capable of staying on their feet, let alone fight to the death.

And it would be to the death, she realized as two shadowed, glowing orbs glowed out from the darkness.

Elaine held her breath as a creaky shuffle sounded and heavy, awkward footsteps came closer. She gasped, eyes wide and throat tight, already feeling her hands shake and dampen as she stared at the metal monstrosity.

It was bulky; it’s entire body made up of gleaming black metal that gave off a translucent hue in the light. Nothing about it screamed alive yet it had a distinct human like appearance that she couldn’t dismiss.

It’s eyes were too bright despite the glowing orange color, too intelligent. It shuffled forward awkwardly on it’s legs, almost like it wasn’t used to using them, and stared stoically at the crowd. She barely heard the woman curse and one of the men ask what it was over the wild clapping and cheering. The white coated man stepped forward, greasy smile in place as he lifted a black box to his lips, waiting out the crowd.

The ringleader in all his glory, she thought spitefully, eyeing the man with narrowed eyes.

“Our reigning champion, Lynx, against our current contestants, ladies and gentlemen.” More clapping. Elaine wondered if all those people had hobbies beyond watching other people fight.

The ringleader grinned, waited until it was silent again then brought the box back to his lips. “It has been a while, hasn’t it? Can our champion keep his title or will he finally be defeated? Well let’s not wait to find out,” the ringleader said. Elaine watched as every single person in the audience flicked their hands over the arms of their chairs. Whether that was some sort of signal or the metal man was just bored, she gaped as it charged forward, arms raised.

It’s palms began brightening until they were a dark blue, then brighter still until they were nearly white. Then twin charges flashed out, striking where the others would have been if the woman hadn’t nudged the men out of the way.

The ringleader laughed and she had the urge to punch him-- absently hoped she hit him hard enough that his smirk fell off permanently. The others ducked and dodged around the metal man’s lasers, scrabbling through the dirt and throwing up rocks to try and distract it’s focus. She hoped they succeed. She hoped that whatever was left of that man’s humanity was freed from whatever the Games had done to him.

“Enjoy the show!”

He stumbled, rocks scattering under his feet like marbles. To his left was that concussed kid, valiantly weaving between the lasers even as he struggled to stay upright. He was fairly certain that there was probably more wrong with him than just a concussion, but he earned points for still moving around.

Carrie dodged the projectiles with a single-minded focus, her eyes never leaving the man’s.

One of the men worked on gathering up all of the larger rock pieces while the other man watched his back, calling out left or right with a breathless screech. Marco wondered what he did for a living-- he had never thought someone could actually talk so fast when running for their life.

The metal man turned, his clunky, awkward steps giving them the advantage. He grinned, breathless, as another round of lasers fired around them.

Now’s not the time for this, he thought desperately as something heavy crushed his chest. He coughed, cheeks flushed and panting, feeling the tension in his chest shift and bubble. The manic cackling, so distant yet completely relatable, seemed to throw both the metal man and the others off. He grinned, eyes glassy, pupils blown wide, as he stared at the man. He cackled, the harsh sound making a few of the spectators lean back, uncomfortable. Well, now’s as good of a time as any, I suppose.

With that, he lunged towards the metal man, hardly stopping as he snatched a rock from one of the men. That second hesitation, that one barely perceivable flinch from the other was all he needed. Drawing his arm back, he swung towards the man’s arm, hoping to knock something loose and stop the main attack.

A ding rang throughout the colosseum and the audience cheered.

He reeled back, blinking as colors exploded in front of his eyes. His hand felt weird, numb and tingly and just plain wrong. Lax fingers dropped the rock and he suddenly realized that he was standing in front of ten feet of armored metal without a weapon and he might have just broken his hand in the process. A hand, cold and unforgivably tight, grasped his shoulder and hoisted him up. Marco vaguely wondered if this was how it ended; if his stupidity and inability to think things through would be what kills him. He finds it fitting.

And as suddenly as he is lifted up, he’s dropped heavily on the ground, a cloud of dust puffing around him. Carrie grasps his arm, the good one not the one that’s at a funny angle, and pulls him away from the man. And now he can see why and his jaw drops.

Clinging like a limpet to the man’s back is the concussed kid. The metal man runs one way then another, the kid still holding on stubbornly, his face pressed against the metal. Back and forth it went, the man shaking and jumping around and the kid holding on, his hands occasionally fumbling with something.

He tore his gaze away from the scene and glanced around. Carrie was still beside him, her eyes locked on something beyond the metal man’s shoulder. He squinted, blinked then squinted at the gate.

One of the men was sneaking inside it. Marco’s attention shifted until he saw the other one, his back to us as he crept towards the cages holding the rest of the contestants.

What happened next was honestly too fast to catch.

A loud boom filled the air and twin screams came out of it like a whirlwind. The ground shook and fire too thick to see anything ate at the dirt and rocks around it.

The spectators reeled back, some covering their eyes and others simply staring dispassionately at the growing flames. The screaming never stopped. If anything, it grew louder until the words were gone and all that remained was a single screech of despair. Carrie helped him up and the other man, the one sneaking into the gate, stumbled out coughing. The screaming never letting up in the least.