“Fuck your game!” Pete said, turning to face Liandra and pointing a finger in her direction. “Take the money from me and take the Prestige! I don’t give a shit. Because this whole fucking thing is rigged and corrupt, and if you bastards want to kill me, then I’m not gonna be able to stop you, am I?”
Still unable to stand, his legs fixed in place, Pete threw his hands out to either side. “I’m done with your bullshit games and your shitty Eighties game show knockoffs. You want me to fight in your contest? Fine. I’ll fight. I’ll kill every bastard you send at me. But I’m done with this shit!”
It was a big swing to take, a gamble that might very well end up killing Pete within the next few seconds, but he decided to give it all he had anyway and let fate decide what happened next. There was a certain logic to the approach, of course. Nero had said numerous times that Dominion viewers and even patrons needed a story to get behind. Players could be heroic or villainous, and it didn’t so much matter as long as they were consistent, as long as the viewer knew what they were about.
Somewhere along the line, Pete had decided that his character was going to be a rebel, someone that bucked the System literally and figuratively at every possible moment. It wasn’t perhaps the smartest approach to take, but then there hadn’t been too much thought behind it either. Pete had made a choice to let it be known what he thought about the game and the System and the Company, not to mention their benefactor, High Baron Tongsly Belch. That choice now meant that he had a reputation to uphold and certain expectations he needed to meet.
If he was going to be a rebel, then he’d give it his all, no matter how much more difficult that made his progress through the game. The fact that the Company had already apparently marked him for death only made the decision that much easier. If he gave in and walked away quietly, they’d have him killed in some back alley, away from the eyes and ears of the viewers. But if he kept railing against the System and openly defying the game and the Company that ran it, he’d be more likely to stick in the minds of the viewers and he’d be harder to just get rid of quietly.
That was the logic behind his outburst, but the fact was, he hadn’t thrown the testicle at Ulrick Blackfang and started ranting because of that logic. He’d done it because he was bone tired, mentally fatigued, and sick of trying to untwist the complicated knots of logic and intrigue that governed the Dominion Ultrimax Contest.
Somewhat puzzlingly, it seemed that the System agreed with his stance.
>> ACHIEVEMENT: Oratory Outburst!
Congratulations! You’ve just swayed public opinion and ruined a perfectly good game show by turning the viewers against it! Instead of using carefully chosen words after hours of thoughtful reflection and deliberation, you frothed and spat and blurted a string of largely unintelligible nonsense, but the viewers just yummed it up like a bowl of their favorite gobsnot jelly!
ACHIEVEMENT REWARD: +4 Prestige, +1500 Belch Bucks
>> SHOWMANSHIP PROFICIENCY +2
>> PERSUASION PROFICIENCY +2
While Pete was still digesting that, a second notification appeared rapidly on the heels of the first.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
>> CHALLENGE FAILED!
PENALTY: -1500 Belch Bucks, -4 Prestige
So, there it was. The grand sum of the challenge was to put Pete right back in the same place he was when he started. Given how badly things could have gone wrong, Pete supposed that was the best he could hope for, but the bigger concern was the fact that he was still locked in place and an irate, heavily drugged orc was just a few feet away from him, staring with murderous intent at what the brute assumed was one of his own testicles.
The orc picked up the fork and fake testicle and raised it to his nose with a puzzled expression. The crowd was split between boos and shouts of encouragement, making a swampy sound that filled the room with confusion as Ulrick Blackfang examined the gooey orb.
Cameras had swung around, recording every detail from multiple angles, one of them fixed on Pete’s face the entire time. He didn’t flinch and didn’t turn to look at the camera. Instead, Pete clung to the knife he’d managed to pick up while no one was looking, the knife he’d been given to carve through his meal.
It wasn’t much. Compared to the machete he typically wielded, the steak knife was little more than a toothpick, and Pete doubted whether it would even manage to penetrate the orc’s thick skin if it came to a fight. Just a small handle and six inches of serrated, gold-plated metal to fight back a musclebound brute with arms like tree trunks and an Apex level class.
[Nero] I would suggest you run, Pete. I have calculated that these bars are not strong enough to hold the orc if he decides to break free of the cage!
Pete grunted. “You know I still can’t move, right? I’m gonna have to fight the big bastard kneeling like this, unless you can figure out a way to unlock whatever is holding me here.”
[Nero] Goodness! My apologies, Pete. I neglected that fact in my earlier advice. Well, it seems that our time together may be at an end. It has been most enjoyable working with you. Humans are among the more complex entities I have had occasion to tutor, and I have certainly learned a great deal during our interactions.
Ulrick sniffed the egg, his expression shifting from outright rage to confusion. Pete felt a sudden thrill of hope at that fact, a possibility that his life wasn’t going to end here, kneeling in front of a musclebound titan in the middle of a cheesy game show.
The orc plucked the egg from the fork and let the implement drop to the floor of the cage. He squeezed the orb between his fingers, and a viscous yellow goo squelched out of the interior of the egg, filling the area with a pungent stench so profound it almost made Pete vomit right then and there.
He closed his mouth and pinched his nose with his spare hand, grimacing at the rancid stench while the orc looked up from the eye, dark eyes regarding Pete. Some kind of slow-moving understanding passed between the two of them at that moment. Pete could recognize the change come over the brute’s face.
Ulrick was still scowling, his tusks and teeth bared, muscles rippling in his scarred arms as he held the split egg between two large fingers, but the hatred in his eyes momentarily shifted to something else. The big orc nodded, the slightest movement that conveyed volumes of information. In that moment, Pete saw not a brutish monster filled with rage, but an intelligent being forced to fight for its survival.
He saw a fellow player, a fighter, a rebel.
Ulrick opened his mouth and slipped the egg inside, chewing as he grabbed hold of the bars of his cage and started pulling them apart. Metal shrieked, almost loud enough to rise above the eruption of the watching crowd as they went into a frenzy.
Pete sat calmly as the huge orc bullied his way out of the cage, bending thick metal bars and then shoving them aside with his arms as he squeezed his way out. The floor shuddered as one huge foot slammed against the wood and the orc stepped out of the cage. As he moved his entire body out, Ulrick kicked the cage back away from him, connecting so hard that it tumbled end over end, destroying three cameras and tumbling into the hovering feed devices in the area designated for the audience.
The orc turned away from Pete, rolling its shoulders as it turned a menacing gaze on Liandra. Goblin figures piloting robotic mech units came charging into the studio, guns at the ready, each mech covered in heavy armor and clanging on the floor as they ran forward.
“CUT THE FEED!” the goblin director shouted from somewhere in the rear of the room. “CUT THE MUCKING FEED!”
A moment before he was ripped out of the studio and sent back to the RV, Pete saw Ulrick Blackfang move with impossible speed, closing the distance between the orc and the three mech units and slamming a fist into the closest mech so hard that it pulped the goblin pilot and sent the crumpled remains of the machine clattering into the far wall.