(no subject)
Hey to Supergirrl, and to answer your question(s):
Suethorfic!Ari is the amazingly stupid (as in, why the hell would anyone do that?) cardboard cut out (Must...kill...Max....must...kill...fang...) ugly eraser who /wants/ to be evil and is usually accompanied by a hundred of his companion-erasers who are quickly despatched by the flock despite the fact they're outnumbered 17 to1. It's the ttly cool whiked BOMBS Y"KNOW.
yeah, you know. That one. Funny how "they" spout off the 'Ari's so ebil' and the 'Eww, thut's sic, Max nd Ari r rlated' but totally ignore the other Max/Ari interactions in MR3.
As for Ursula:
Trailblazer
Author: Maiyri
Rating: Teen
Category: Threeshot Eraser fic.
Warnings: Violence, implied rape and abuse, general gore. This IS an Eraser fic.
Disclaimer: Patterson and his cronies/publishers own Max and co, who will feature in this story. Ursula is owned by Supergirrl.
Author’s Notes: Ursula’s from Superrgirl’s ‘Survivors’. I read that, and this prequel has resulted. It’s set in the Eraser-fanon-verse we’ve kinda generated with our stories.
--
I pretty much grew up in the room that I’m in now. Its purpose has changed now, it’s a bedroom for one of the Other-fighters. And while here is not where the story truly began, it is the best place for me to start.
So, I grew up, physically, here.
Well, if you can call it growing up. We, my kind, the Erasers, we only live for around six years, and we reach the appearance of teenage humans in a year. We live out our lives, our short, violent lives as adults, and then we die. We never die of old age, our DNA, the part of us that is human and the part that is wolf comes apart. We live on a knife edge. Every minute we could come apart at the molecular seams and die. Just like that. Some die early. Only three in five Eraser babies are viable. Some die later. One lucky training master lived to see eight.
--
I am six months old.
I look like I am around ten years old, and I’m one of the younger girls in this room. We don’t get moved into here unless the Scientists think that we might be a success. Which only means that we might live. To be a Success, you must prove yourself to be better than all of the others, which I intend to do.
I only vaguely remember the room before this. That was the Nursery, and all of the experiment-babies are taken there unless they are either something really special or a spectacular failure. Some of the Erasers are made, some, now are born to Eraser parents. There has never been any difference between those who have ‘breeding’ and those who don’t, because we simply do not know. I assume they have all the records on file, but files aren’t usually something Erasers get to see unless it concerns them. Maybe I’ll know about my mother, if I have one, when I become a mother myself?
We, the Eraser-girl-pups have our own room, separate from the Eraser-boy-pups and the Others. I remember the white walls and I remember my sister-littermates. There are only four of us left, but I remember more arms and legs all curled up than we four have between us. I would have been, maybe, a month old. Slowly, they disappeared. Three months ago, we were moved here.
And we came under the rules of the Room. And the rulings of the Alpha female.
Every pup for herself, being the main rule.
You defend yourself first, and your own later.
You form your own alliances, and you make promises that you keep. If you break too many then the others will break you.
You don’t cheat, you fight fair.
You do not kill, except if you must defend yourself.
You tell the Scientists nothing they do not have to know.
When you are oldest you must teach those younger than you everything that you know, for this is how you keep the Rememberance.
You heed the oldest, for she is the wisest, and one day it will be you.
There are a few things to know about the Room. There has been this system in place since before rememberance, our rememberance. What we remember for how far back the oldest can remember. And when the oldest here was the youngest, it was so, and for the Oldest-Before-Her too. We know of most big things that have happened, and my favourite story is that of Those Who Were First, the First Eraser-girls to be brought here into the room. They were the 30 series, the first viable.
There is not much here. There is a main room and a bathroom. There are mattresses all over the floor, and two special areas, one for the Alpha female and those she chooses to favour, and one for the newest pups, who always get special attention, protection, food, until they are turfed out by the next group of pups. Then the slightly less helpless pups have to fight with those who are older, bigger, faster, stronger and smarter than them for everything. That’s the best way to learn. If you don’t, you die.
I learned. I learned from those older than me for myself and my litter-sisters and in return for a share of my food they swore to help put me into the spot of power. Someone from every litter must be, although sometimes the next-younger litter is stronger, and one of them takes the spot. That wasn’t what happened to me, but even so, I slowly got us the best mattresses, the hot water in the bathroom, and I was quick enough to only have to come up against the then-Alpha once.
There’s a few other things we learn.
The younger girls, those who’ve less than a year to their name have heard the horror stories of how, when we’re older we’ll be taken to ‘that’ room in the kennels and given to the males. It’s because none of the girls taken ever come back. Sometimes we don’t believe it, but after the latest oldie group is taken we do. And then it happens to me.
--
I am now nearly a year old.
My group is the next to be taken, and the only thing I know for sure is that one day the men in white coats will come and I’ll leave this place, leave the girl-pups behind to be looked after by my successor as the alpha female. Just as the post was left to me by the last oldie-leader.
My successor will be Veritas, I’ve decided. She’s a good girl, smart. She’s not the strongest - that’s Alietha - but she’s got enough strength of self to keep the top spot for a month or two at the most and keep the younger ones in line.
If the leaving is what I know, where I go next is only a shred of Scientist rumor. They’re coming soon, they usually come every month and half, and that’s how long it’s been. They’ll come for me and the three others of my age, my litter sisters Roma, Sparta and Thera. We won’t come back. There’s no way to tell when they’ll come, now, a week, two. As far back as I remember, they have come. And I am the oldest. The oldest-before-me when I was only a pup said the same. As far as her rememberance, they came. Then they came for her. And those that came after her.
They come for us on the third day of the month. Six men who all look the same. They call for us - 62 series - Roma, Sparta, Thera, Ursula. Me and my litter-sisters. We don’t argue, we stand from where we are, me on my ‘throne’, the other three from the mattresses in the corner. I do not look back as Veritas takes my seat on the bunkbed, I just walk out the door. I ignore the new baby-pups that are to be taken into the room in trade for us. I don’t resist the men. Fight and Die. We rememberance that, too.
We are marched down a hallway, another, and then another. I walk at the front of the girls, they let me lead. They’re weaker and have never challenged my authority and right to be first. Two men walk in front of us, two walk behind, and two beside.
The halls are only a little more interesting than the plain-walled Room. Everything is the same white-and-metal, the same nose-burning smell, same flicker-lights. The Room is wider, and messier. There are mattresses and blankets all over the floor, and because there is only one bathroom for twenty five girls there is always the smell of us. Here there is a smell like us but deeper and darker. There are carts stacked with bottles and steel tools, and we see people in the distance. There are corridors branching off and lots and lots of doors. One that we pass is open, and inide there is something unrecognizable on the table.
One of the men halts us and opens a door. I know this room, most of us do. It’s both a laboratory and an infirmary. We come here once or twice for genetic testing or if a fight gets out of hand and there are injuries, like I had once. We’re tested again this time, and after a wait of a few hours the men come back and then Roma is separated from us. Sparta, Thera and I are asked to stand and then four of the men lead us through another maze of corridors to another room, and it’s here that we learn that there are Erasers and then there are Erasers.
--
But to know the enormity of what I have done, first you must know where I come from. And why I have become what I am.
--
I’m only a year old but I look like I’m somewhere between eighteen and twenty. I’m not beautiful by Eraser standards, I’m not tall or short. Roma was the beauty of our bunch, but I don’t think I’ll see her again. We shared many common features, my sister and I, like our blazing red hair, though mine is shorn off, while she wore hers long and proud. The same and piercing dark eyes, the same nose and cheekbones. Sparta and Thera are by far prettier than I, even though they only have dark brown locks that stay straight. I’m strong, by Eraser girl standards, and my skin a little roughened by the morph I kept experimenting with even though we’re not really supposed to. My one run-in with an Alpha before me has left me with a scar across one cheek, though, and it’s this which makes me look tougher and uglier than my sisters..
The room we are led to has ‘Den’ written on the door. One of the men knocks on the door, which opens and I am looking at one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. His hair is golden and his eyes are green. He’s smirking at the scientists, until he sees us. Then the look changes to one that scares me more than any look I have gotten in all my year. He looks at us like we are fresh killed, blood-dripping meat. No, less than meat. I am afraid.
He beckons us into the room, and grabs my arm. The all-the-same-scientists smirk and leave. The door shuts behind us with an ominous thunk, and then it locks. The Eraser lets my arm go and I’m certain that I’ll have bruises from his grip.
Now we are led by the boy-Eraser, for that is what he must be, through darkened corridors. There are rooms and passages leading off to the sides, and with the little light there is we see more Erasers, who all stop and look up at us as we go past. I smell the fear off my sisters and I begin to think that wherever Roma is she must be better off. The walls here are not white but stained with what smells like grime, dirt and blood. The smell of the antiseptics that burn the nose is old and weak.
We are taken into a hall that is the biggest room I have ever seen. It, unlike the corridors is light and airy. The room is three times as long as our Room, and twice as wide. It is full of Erasers, laughing, joking, talking, yelling, fighting, eating. There must be at least a hundred. There is one thing similar to our room. At one end, looking over the rest of the hall is what is obviously the Alpha’s post. To this we are led, and as we are noticed the room stills into silence.
The man on the throne is not pretty. Like me, he bears scars. He watches us approach, and his face gives little away. He is the one in charge, though, and I think he is the one who decides my fate. He cocks his head to one side and smiles as I dare to meet his eyes. But of course I dare. I know what it is to be in power and I would like to keep that power and make it more.
“What, only three?” He says, not really a question. His audience stirs and I hear a buzz of whisper which dies down quickly. “I was hoping for at least twenty to keep all the promises I made to those who want to get to know you a little better.” The first part gets a chuckle from his audience, and the latter is directed at us. “So what am I going to do with these ones, my Jewel?” He nudges with one foot, almost a kick, at a pile of rags on the dias. Thera gasps.
Jewel. She was one of the group before mine. The second, beautiful and proud. Now she’s an emaciated wreck with empty eyes and a leering smile on her hollow face. She reaches up to run a hand down his body suggestively. He looks at her with disgust and kicks her away, “How about we trade you up for a better model, my Jewel?” he says meditatively. The audience as one seems to almost growl. My skin prickles with the force of those ugly wanting eyes. “No,” he says, drawing out the word. “You’ll do for another month, my Jewel.”
The audience sighs and relaxes and I realise just how much control he has over this group. And now he’s going to sell us off like little favours. We’re nothing to this lot, and we’re going to end up like Jewel. I am not going to let that happen to me. I have my pride, my wits. I’ll make something of myself, something more than a purpose-bred playtoy. And if I have to sacrifice my pride for my gain of power, I’ll do it.
The Leader sees my quiet determination. “Have a name, little red-haired girl?” he asks me.
“Ursula,” I reply.
“Not pretty, are you, Red?” he says. I say nothing. “Still,” he muses aloud. “There are three of you lovely girls and at least twenty promises I am supposed to keep with you. What am I to do?” he directs the question at me, and I don’t think he truly expects me to answer.
I think about it. I have the best chance if the one who would have me is strong, yet smart enough to know that if I am kept healthy and uninjured I can make it worth his while. “Those twenty,” I say, “They could fight for us. Winner gets his pick. Then second, then third.”
“Mmmm,” he hums in thought, eyeing me with something that isn’t like the leers of the audience and more like respect, tinged with resignation? That confuses me, until I realize that he expects me to end up like Jewel, despite the fact that I’m clever. “What do you say, dogs? These bitches worth a rumble?” The audience screams and cheers. “To the Courts!” he yells, and they all rush through the door at one side of the hall, a hundred Erasers, yelling and screaming, chanting ‘fight, fight, fight’ and it rattles the floorboards.
The Alpha motions to one of his men who chains Jewel to the throne and he gestures for more to ‘escort’ us prizes to the Courts. One yanks my arm, and I let myself be pulled along behind the crowd. We lag behind, me and my captor. “Interesting,” he murmurs in my ear. “Smart little Red, aren’t you. Not as scared as the others, yet you’re too smart to be ignorant of what’s to happen. So what is it you’re trying to do? What little game?”
Without warning he picks me up, slams me against the wall and pins me there with one hand. My back screams in protest and then my lungs, as his hand on my throat stops my breath. He lets me go a little and my feet touch the ground. He now looms over me, though, and uses it to his advantage. “I’m not intending to become like Jewel, for one.” I say. He hums in thought, very like the Leader, and I notice the resemblance between them, and recall that this was the man who stood at ease behind the leader. Strong, well-connected and smart enough to realise that I’m, even now, up to something. Maybe I’ve had a bit of luck.
“So, what’s your plan, then, little Red?” he asks me again, despite knowing that I don’t intend to give him an answer.
“Why?” I answer his question with one of my own. Because I want to know why he cares about a little girl like me who isn’t pretty at all.
“I stick with my brother,” he threatens. “If your plan concerns him getting hurt, or the Erasers get the blame for something you did, the it concerns me.” He means it, and I have to wonder again at the hold the Leader has over his followers.
“Neither,” I tell him. “I just want to live. I want to retain my sanity and make something of myself. I don’t know much yet. No one’s taught me anything.” I look up at him pleadingly, imitating the pups that I’ve looked after. Maybe I say too much, but he accepts it, and lets me down enough so my feet touch the floor and take up my slight weight again. Maybe he sees the advantage of keeping me close to take an eye on me.
“Fine,” he says, and if reading my mind, “I’m keeping an eye on you.”
I lean forward and smile, and lick my lips promisingly. “How close?” I whisper.
He leans in. “Very close.”
Good.
He takes hold of my arm and drags me down the corridor to the courts at a near-run. We’re last out the door onto the courts, but we’re unnoticed in the bustle of the crowd as they settle. I can’t look at my sisters as I’m dragged to another dias and put on display. My plan begins to fall into place as ‘my’ Eraser announces to the Leader his intention to fight. The eager crowd howls and jeers as the fifteen competitors take to the court floor.
All are big, scarred, mean. I close my eyes and fear burns through my veins. I am in trouble. I am in big trouble and I am the only one who might possibly get me out of it.
That took a bloody long while - my computer keeps going NATO over the scripting popups.....grrr.
Suethorfic!Ari is the amazingly stupid (as in, why the hell would anyone do that?) cardboard cut out (Must...kill...Max....must...kill...fang...) ugly eraser who /wants/ to be evil and is usually accompanied by a hundred of his companion-erasers who are quickly despatched by the flock despite the fact they're outnumbered 17 to1. It's the ttly cool whiked BOMBS Y"KNOW.
yeah, you know. That one. Funny how "they" spout off the 'Ari's so ebil' and the 'Eww, thut's sic, Max nd Ari r rlated' but totally ignore the other Max/Ari interactions in MR3.
As for Ursula:
Trailblazer
Author: Maiyri
Rating: Teen
Category: Threeshot Eraser fic.
Warnings: Violence, implied rape and abuse, general gore. This IS an Eraser fic.
Disclaimer: Patterson and his cronies/publishers own Max and co, who will feature in this story. Ursula is owned by Supergirrl.
Author’s Notes: Ursula’s from Superrgirl’s ‘Survivors’. I read that, and this prequel has resulted. It’s set in the Eraser-fanon-verse we’ve kinda generated with our stories.
--
I pretty much grew up in the room that I’m in now. Its purpose has changed now, it’s a bedroom for one of the Other-fighters. And while here is not where the story truly began, it is the best place for me to start.
So, I grew up, physically, here.
Well, if you can call it growing up. We, my kind, the Erasers, we only live for around six years, and we reach the appearance of teenage humans in a year. We live out our lives, our short, violent lives as adults, and then we die. We never die of old age, our DNA, the part of us that is human and the part that is wolf comes apart. We live on a knife edge. Every minute we could come apart at the molecular seams and die. Just like that. Some die early. Only three in five Eraser babies are viable. Some die later. One lucky training master lived to see eight.
--
I am six months old.
I look like I am around ten years old, and I’m one of the younger girls in this room. We don’t get moved into here unless the Scientists think that we might be a success. Which only means that we might live. To be a Success, you must prove yourself to be better than all of the others, which I intend to do.
I only vaguely remember the room before this. That was the Nursery, and all of the experiment-babies are taken there unless they are either something really special or a spectacular failure. Some of the Erasers are made, some, now are born to Eraser parents. There has never been any difference between those who have ‘breeding’ and those who don’t, because we simply do not know. I assume they have all the records on file, but files aren’t usually something Erasers get to see unless it concerns them. Maybe I’ll know about my mother, if I have one, when I become a mother myself?
We, the Eraser-girl-pups have our own room, separate from the Eraser-boy-pups and the Others. I remember the white walls and I remember my sister-littermates. There are only four of us left, but I remember more arms and legs all curled up than we four have between us. I would have been, maybe, a month old. Slowly, they disappeared. Three months ago, we were moved here.
And we came under the rules of the Room. And the rulings of the Alpha female.
Every pup for herself, being the main rule.
You defend yourself first, and your own later.
You form your own alliances, and you make promises that you keep. If you break too many then the others will break you.
You don’t cheat, you fight fair.
You do not kill, except if you must defend yourself.
You tell the Scientists nothing they do not have to know.
When you are oldest you must teach those younger than you everything that you know, for this is how you keep the Rememberance.
You heed the oldest, for she is the wisest, and one day it will be you.
There are a few things to know about the Room. There has been this system in place since before rememberance, our rememberance. What we remember for how far back the oldest can remember. And when the oldest here was the youngest, it was so, and for the Oldest-Before-Her too. We know of most big things that have happened, and my favourite story is that of Those Who Were First, the First Eraser-girls to be brought here into the room. They were the 30 series, the first viable.
There is not much here. There is a main room and a bathroom. There are mattresses all over the floor, and two special areas, one for the Alpha female and those she chooses to favour, and one for the newest pups, who always get special attention, protection, food, until they are turfed out by the next group of pups. Then the slightly less helpless pups have to fight with those who are older, bigger, faster, stronger and smarter than them for everything. That’s the best way to learn. If you don’t, you die.
I learned. I learned from those older than me for myself and my litter-sisters and in return for a share of my food they swore to help put me into the spot of power. Someone from every litter must be, although sometimes the next-younger litter is stronger, and one of them takes the spot. That wasn’t what happened to me, but even so, I slowly got us the best mattresses, the hot water in the bathroom, and I was quick enough to only have to come up against the then-Alpha once.
There’s a few other things we learn.
The younger girls, those who’ve less than a year to their name have heard the horror stories of how, when we’re older we’ll be taken to ‘that’ room in the kennels and given to the males. It’s because none of the girls taken ever come back. Sometimes we don’t believe it, but after the latest oldie group is taken we do. And then it happens to me.
--
I am now nearly a year old.
My group is the next to be taken, and the only thing I know for sure is that one day the men in white coats will come and I’ll leave this place, leave the girl-pups behind to be looked after by my successor as the alpha female. Just as the post was left to me by the last oldie-leader.
My successor will be Veritas, I’ve decided. She’s a good girl, smart. She’s not the strongest - that’s Alietha - but she’s got enough strength of self to keep the top spot for a month or two at the most and keep the younger ones in line.
If the leaving is what I know, where I go next is only a shred of Scientist rumor. They’re coming soon, they usually come every month and half, and that’s how long it’s been. They’ll come for me and the three others of my age, my litter sisters Roma, Sparta and Thera. We won’t come back. There’s no way to tell when they’ll come, now, a week, two. As far back as I remember, they have come. And I am the oldest. The oldest-before-me when I was only a pup said the same. As far as her rememberance, they came. Then they came for her. And those that came after her.
They come for us on the third day of the month. Six men who all look the same. They call for us - 62 series - Roma, Sparta, Thera, Ursula. Me and my litter-sisters. We don’t argue, we stand from where we are, me on my ‘throne’, the other three from the mattresses in the corner. I do not look back as Veritas takes my seat on the bunkbed, I just walk out the door. I ignore the new baby-pups that are to be taken into the room in trade for us. I don’t resist the men. Fight and Die. We rememberance that, too.
We are marched down a hallway, another, and then another. I walk at the front of the girls, they let me lead. They’re weaker and have never challenged my authority and right to be first. Two men walk in front of us, two walk behind, and two beside.
The halls are only a little more interesting than the plain-walled Room. Everything is the same white-and-metal, the same nose-burning smell, same flicker-lights. The Room is wider, and messier. There are mattresses and blankets all over the floor, and because there is only one bathroom for twenty five girls there is always the smell of us. Here there is a smell like us but deeper and darker. There are carts stacked with bottles and steel tools, and we see people in the distance. There are corridors branching off and lots and lots of doors. One that we pass is open, and inide there is something unrecognizable on the table.
One of the men halts us and opens a door. I know this room, most of us do. It’s both a laboratory and an infirmary. We come here once or twice for genetic testing or if a fight gets out of hand and there are injuries, like I had once. We’re tested again this time, and after a wait of a few hours the men come back and then Roma is separated from us. Sparta, Thera and I are asked to stand and then four of the men lead us through another maze of corridors to another room, and it’s here that we learn that there are Erasers and then there are Erasers.
--
But to know the enormity of what I have done, first you must know where I come from. And why I have become what I am.
--
I’m only a year old but I look like I’m somewhere between eighteen and twenty. I’m not beautiful by Eraser standards, I’m not tall or short. Roma was the beauty of our bunch, but I don’t think I’ll see her again. We shared many common features, my sister and I, like our blazing red hair, though mine is shorn off, while she wore hers long and proud. The same and piercing dark eyes, the same nose and cheekbones. Sparta and Thera are by far prettier than I, even though they only have dark brown locks that stay straight. I’m strong, by Eraser girl standards, and my skin a little roughened by the morph I kept experimenting with even though we’re not really supposed to. My one run-in with an Alpha before me has left me with a scar across one cheek, though, and it’s this which makes me look tougher and uglier than my sisters..
The room we are led to has ‘Den’ written on the door. One of the men knocks on the door, which opens and I am looking at one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. His hair is golden and his eyes are green. He’s smirking at the scientists, until he sees us. Then the look changes to one that scares me more than any look I have gotten in all my year. He looks at us like we are fresh killed, blood-dripping meat. No, less than meat. I am afraid.
He beckons us into the room, and grabs my arm. The all-the-same-scientists smirk and leave. The door shuts behind us with an ominous thunk, and then it locks. The Eraser lets my arm go and I’m certain that I’ll have bruises from his grip.
Now we are led by the boy-Eraser, for that is what he must be, through darkened corridors. There are rooms and passages leading off to the sides, and with the little light there is we see more Erasers, who all stop and look up at us as we go past. I smell the fear off my sisters and I begin to think that wherever Roma is she must be better off. The walls here are not white but stained with what smells like grime, dirt and blood. The smell of the antiseptics that burn the nose is old and weak.
We are taken into a hall that is the biggest room I have ever seen. It, unlike the corridors is light and airy. The room is three times as long as our Room, and twice as wide. It is full of Erasers, laughing, joking, talking, yelling, fighting, eating. There must be at least a hundred. There is one thing similar to our room. At one end, looking over the rest of the hall is what is obviously the Alpha’s post. To this we are led, and as we are noticed the room stills into silence.
The man on the throne is not pretty. Like me, he bears scars. He watches us approach, and his face gives little away. He is the one in charge, though, and I think he is the one who decides my fate. He cocks his head to one side and smiles as I dare to meet his eyes. But of course I dare. I know what it is to be in power and I would like to keep that power and make it more.
“What, only three?” He says, not really a question. His audience stirs and I hear a buzz of whisper which dies down quickly. “I was hoping for at least twenty to keep all the promises I made to those who want to get to know you a little better.” The first part gets a chuckle from his audience, and the latter is directed at us. “So what am I going to do with these ones, my Jewel?” He nudges with one foot, almost a kick, at a pile of rags on the dias. Thera gasps.
Jewel. She was one of the group before mine. The second, beautiful and proud. Now she’s an emaciated wreck with empty eyes and a leering smile on her hollow face. She reaches up to run a hand down his body suggestively. He looks at her with disgust and kicks her away, “How about we trade you up for a better model, my Jewel?” he says meditatively. The audience as one seems to almost growl. My skin prickles with the force of those ugly wanting eyes. “No,” he says, drawing out the word. “You’ll do for another month, my Jewel.”
The audience sighs and relaxes and I realise just how much control he has over this group. And now he’s going to sell us off like little favours. We’re nothing to this lot, and we’re going to end up like Jewel. I am not going to let that happen to me. I have my pride, my wits. I’ll make something of myself, something more than a purpose-bred playtoy. And if I have to sacrifice my pride for my gain of power, I’ll do it.
The Leader sees my quiet determination. “Have a name, little red-haired girl?” he asks me.
“Ursula,” I reply.
“Not pretty, are you, Red?” he says. I say nothing. “Still,” he muses aloud. “There are three of you lovely girls and at least twenty promises I am supposed to keep with you. What am I to do?” he directs the question at me, and I don’t think he truly expects me to answer.
I think about it. I have the best chance if the one who would have me is strong, yet smart enough to know that if I am kept healthy and uninjured I can make it worth his while. “Those twenty,” I say, “They could fight for us. Winner gets his pick. Then second, then third.”
“Mmmm,” he hums in thought, eyeing me with something that isn’t like the leers of the audience and more like respect, tinged with resignation? That confuses me, until I realize that he expects me to end up like Jewel, despite the fact that I’m clever. “What do you say, dogs? These bitches worth a rumble?” The audience screams and cheers. “To the Courts!” he yells, and they all rush through the door at one side of the hall, a hundred Erasers, yelling and screaming, chanting ‘fight, fight, fight’ and it rattles the floorboards.
The Alpha motions to one of his men who chains Jewel to the throne and he gestures for more to ‘escort’ us prizes to the Courts. One yanks my arm, and I let myself be pulled along behind the crowd. We lag behind, me and my captor. “Interesting,” he murmurs in my ear. “Smart little Red, aren’t you. Not as scared as the others, yet you’re too smart to be ignorant of what’s to happen. So what is it you’re trying to do? What little game?”
Without warning he picks me up, slams me against the wall and pins me there with one hand. My back screams in protest and then my lungs, as his hand on my throat stops my breath. He lets me go a little and my feet touch the ground. He now looms over me, though, and uses it to his advantage. “I’m not intending to become like Jewel, for one.” I say. He hums in thought, very like the Leader, and I notice the resemblance between them, and recall that this was the man who stood at ease behind the leader. Strong, well-connected and smart enough to realise that I’m, even now, up to something. Maybe I’ve had a bit of luck.
“So, what’s your plan, then, little Red?” he asks me again, despite knowing that I don’t intend to give him an answer.
“Why?” I answer his question with one of my own. Because I want to know why he cares about a little girl like me who isn’t pretty at all.
“I stick with my brother,” he threatens. “If your plan concerns him getting hurt, or the Erasers get the blame for something you did, the it concerns me.” He means it, and I have to wonder again at the hold the Leader has over his followers.
“Neither,” I tell him. “I just want to live. I want to retain my sanity and make something of myself. I don’t know much yet. No one’s taught me anything.” I look up at him pleadingly, imitating the pups that I’ve looked after. Maybe I say too much, but he accepts it, and lets me down enough so my feet touch the floor and take up my slight weight again. Maybe he sees the advantage of keeping me close to take an eye on me.
“Fine,” he says, and if reading my mind, “I’m keeping an eye on you.”
I lean forward and smile, and lick my lips promisingly. “How close?” I whisper.
He leans in. “Very close.”
Good.
He takes hold of my arm and drags me down the corridor to the courts at a near-run. We’re last out the door onto the courts, but we’re unnoticed in the bustle of the crowd as they settle. I can’t look at my sisters as I’m dragged to another dias and put on display. My plan begins to fall into place as ‘my’ Eraser announces to the Leader his intention to fight. The eager crowd howls and jeers as the fifteen competitors take to the court floor.
All are big, scarred, mean. I close my eyes and fear burns through my veins. I am in trouble. I am in big trouble and I am the only one who might possibly get me out of it.
That took a bloody long while - my computer keeps going NATO over the scripting popups.....grrr.