Page 5 of Infala: The Bonding Games
“Yes. And those already entered must have a partner. If one is not available on their own, a replacement will be selected for them by the overseeing group.”
“You mean the elites.”
“Precisely. Now you’re catching on. See those men and women filtering in and lining up over there?”
Ziana turned her head as subtly as she could. There were six people now standing just to the side of the group. Four men and two women. All of them looked quite fit, and none of them seemed happy. Both women were somewhat short, the blue-skinned one wearing a form-fitting jumpsuit of some kind of stretchy material, while the orange-skinned woman with brick-colored hair was in shorts and a tank top that showed off her insanely chiseled abs.
The men were equally ripped, two of them with the same pale green coloration and elongated arms that made them look like they’d somehow descended from weird alien apes. Then there was the one with skin so deep red it looked like he’d suffered radiation burns, though he showed no signs of any such injury.
Lastly, the gray-blue skinned man with dark hair, bulging muscles, and a very unhappy look on his surprisingly handsome face. That is, handsome once you got past the scar on this left cheek and the sneering look of disdain on his lips. He wasnothappy. Not in the slightest.
“They’re the ones who lost partners?” Ziana asked.
“Yep.”
“What happened? Did they get hurt in training?”
“Well, let’s just say that if a team isreallygood, perhaps posing an actual threat to win, more often than not, one or both will suffer a training injury. That, or an unfortunate accident outside of the games. Whatever the case, they invariably find themselves unable to compete at their full potential. And that is why we’re brought in. Warm bodies to fill the gaps and give a semblance of a fair game, though a lot of us know it’s anything but.”
“But you said some of them are really good.”
“Yes. But they’re supposed to make the games exciting. Not actually win them, though a few of the more stubborn ones seem to have missed that memo. Take that scowling one. Now that I know where we are, and judging by that scar, I’m sure that’s Dorrin. He’s been competing in these games since he came of age, and he loses every time. A fan favorite and local boy. His father competed before him in hopes of elevating his family.”
“And now this Dorrin guy is following in his father’s footsteps. And the others?”
“Similar stories with variations here and there. But none of that really matters. It’s entirely up to the elites who is partnered with whom.”
Ziana didn’t like the sound of that. “Look, I don’t want any part of this shit.”
“You lack runes, and that’s a grave violation of Dotharian law. I think the games are the least of your concerns. Just be glad there are no representatives of the Dotharian Conglomerate here at the moment. If there were, you’d be as good as dead.”
Those words hit her like a slap across the face. She’d known her days might be numbered, but hearing it like this? It brought those thoughts she’d buried deep over the weeks and weeks ofboredom right back to the surface. And more than scare her, it really, really pissed her off.
As if he sensed something in the air, Chancellor Vinchi, one of the elites with pale white skin and golden yellow hair, and wearing comically Romanesque robes, walked toward her, skipping over the others in line he’d been inspecting.
“What is this? Did I hear this one has no runes?” he said with an exaggerated gasp, grabbing Ziana’s arm and holding it up with shock and disgust before dropping it unceremoniously. “And this other one as well?Twowithout runes?”
“They should be put to death, my lord Vinchi!” an aide called out.
The crowd cheered, bloodthirsty and loving the unexpected spectacle.
They’re broadcasting this to the audience, Ziana realized.We’re on TV.
“Pathetic,” the elite continued, staring at the two Earth women with open contempt. “Clearly, these two are from a lesser world. No more than miscreants. Filth stuck to the bottom of the glorious boot of the Dotharian Conglomerate. A waste of flesh and blood.”
He was getting on a roll, reveling in the laughter and cheers from the plebs in the audience. This was all just a show to him. One big joke. An opportunity to be the big man at someone else’s expense. And that pissed her off even more.
“Hey! Fuck you, buddy,” she shot back, and by no means in a quiet voice.
The man’s face darkened, rage bubbling up along with an expression of absolute shock. “Youdarespeak to me this way? Who do you think?—”
“I’m Ziana, asshole. And onmyplanet, people don’t get to talk to other people like that just because they think they’re special because of their so-called elite status.”
“What are you doing?” Maria hissed.
“Fuck it. If I’m going to die, at least I’m doing it on my terms and on my feet, not groveling on the ground.”
The crowd roared, shocked and in awe of the novelty of this strange woman mouthing off to Chancellor Vinchi, the most powerful of the ruling elites. It was unheard of. And it wasamazing.
