The Change: Episode one Page 3

  I grinned suddenly, feeling the longing, the drive behind my every action for the last ten years. It didn't matter. Soon, I'd have an end to this pain, and I planned to enjoy the blood along the way.

  6

  In my dreams, the world we exist in is gone. The War never happened. Men weren't enslaved for their own protection. There hadn't been hundreds of years of fighting for control of them, or for survival against the fallout that had killed off 95% of the male chromosomes so that nearly the only children to be had, even now, were female.

  In my world, there was no shortage of men. So much so, that there was no need for a global list you were placed on at birth for a mate and certainly no cause for a Network-controlled program, where baby-hungry women fought to the death. I'd always known which way I would go, but I still longed for an end to it.

  My dreams flashed through deadly lessons, motions perfected until they were razor sharp, all shadowed by a completeness I'd never felt. Until it was gone and replaced by this... this Hunger.

  "It's happening tonight."

  His voice was terrified, and I threw my arms around him, struggling not to scream in rage. He was mine!

  "I will come for you!"

  He trembled in my 8-year-old arms, only a boy (my boy!) at his parent's mercy, and my grip tightened. He was being sold to The Network. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

  At twelve, he was pale, slender from not getting enough to eat, and his weak arms and legs weren’t shaped quite right. It was the reason his family had kept him beyond the usual age of ten and the reason we’d had these years. Now, they were over, and I was about to be desolate.

  "I will find you!"

  His blue eyes were full of panic that I couldn't ease.

  "You promise, Candy?"

  I pressed my lips to his, tasting my new fury, his tears. "On my life, Daniel!"

  I jerked upright on the buggy green couch.

  Daniel had been taken from me a long time ago, a companion sold into slavery. At fourteen, I had tried to enter the Network complex to rescue him, but was caught and brought home by security. Even then, it was hard to wait.

  Now I was here, in the very game for his papers. He would be mine again in a week… if I was strong enough… if I could win.

  Chapter Two

  Day Two

  1

  "And next, we have Candice Marie Pruett, the brutal Changeling from Ohio whose family fills their credits by bounty hunting for the Network, as well as independent clients. Her antics last night at the opening ceremony definitely stirred up those lonely bachelors. Tell us Sweetheart, why the stunt? Are babies so important to you?"

  The reporter was a snarky little twit with sarcastic green eyes, and I smiled coolly, returning the sentiment. "Not really, no. You understand right, after being denied?"

  She flushed scarlet, and I waited, knowing I had just made a bitter enemy with my perfect guess. Without a Network breeding pass, the only way to get a male was to steal one, and the short woman had obviously chosen to keep her career and forgo a family. The Network reporters were supposed to be unshakable, but I’d never seen anyone try. I was determined to prove them liars and Network stooges. This game would be played on as many of my terms as I could get away with.

  "Moving on… umm, your ratings went through the roof, up to five after last night, and there's a picture of your backside on every morning paper. How does that make your family feel?"

  Prepared for her attack - it wasn't so much an interview, as a stabbing to find weaknesses - I shrugged. "Humiliated."

  I'd thrown her off again, and I smirked when she made a curt motion for the cue-card change.

  "Um... What about the woman you brutally killed last night? Even though it was before tonight’s official start of the episode, do you think it was fair of the Network to draft a replacement contestant?"

  I hadn't heard that, and she was the one gloating now, happy to have anything, no matter how useless, to hold over me. I pulled the rug out and then shook it in her face.

  "I didn't know that, but it's great. I came for the fights, and that one was too easy." I leaned a bit closer. "You wouldn't wanna have a go, would ya?"

  She flinched out of my reach like I'd slapped her perfectly made-up face, and I chuckled, sitting back. "Guess not."

  She recovered more quickly this time, but the shake of her toga-covered arm as she made the motion, gave her away to me and the watching world.

  "Back to you, Dana."

  The camera light went to red, and she moved hastily off the lavish set, not sparing me a glance. I doubted she'd be the one to interview me after I won my first cage match. I was still smirking as I retrieved my ID. Not then, and probably not even after I'd won it all.

  2

  “Hello and welcome to round one of The Bachelor Battles! While the scanners get warmed up, let’s go over some of the basic rules.”

  A pause for the crowd to settle back down. It is clear that this game is a favorite of the masses.

  “As you know, ten contestants will fight to the Death for their choice of a mate. Attacks and battles are forbidden in the halls or private rooms. Everywhere else is fair game, and as usual, anyone can kill a contestant, including friends, family, and outsourced labor. A single viewing of the males will be provided, but only one contestant is permitted in the Bachelor quarters at a time. Light sampling is allowed.”

  At that, the crowd roared again, and the announcer had to wait for them to quiet down to continue. I was listening from my room, as were the others who’d signed up for this suicide. The Network couldn’t have us together until they were ready for the blood to spill.

  Games like the one I was in now were being played all over the complex. Some signed up to outrun the Hounds or to fight the walking dead, but it was the battles against other women that held this post-apocalyptic world spellbound. Outside these walls was a different struggle, not controlled or neatly regulated. Out there, people were killing each other for their sons, and the Network did nothing to help. In fact, families who fell out of favor with the Network were denied access to their credits so that they would starve or have to sell their male children to the Games in order to survive.

  “To get started, we will now choose our Luck of the Draw fighter who will face three other contestants for our first round of match-ups. Viewers will vote on the day’s challengers each morning, and the Network will pick a replacement if our Luck of the Draw winner is defeated. No other battles are held during this time, but attacks and assassination attempts are encouraged.”

  In the corner of my room, a platform rose from the floor, and a dial slid out of the grungy green wall.

  “Please step onto the scanner and remain motionless.”

  I did as instructed and saw myself flash onto one of the small blocks lining the outer edges of the screen. The center image was of the arena, where another big crowd of partiers waited restlessly for the fights to start. It wasn’t unreasonable to think they might underestimate me because of my size. I was shorter than most of the contestants and my face held that slightly chubby look that implied I spent my free time on the couch watching these Games instead of training for them. It was a lie, of course.

  The heavy look was the Change, a side effect not one of the vain Network females wanted to admit to. It gave us a fuller, rounder figure, and the socialites loathed it. As for the small size, I kept my tattooed arms and thick legs covered by loose trousers and a flowing cloak. If they saw me as my family did daily, thick arms straining as blood dripped unnoticed, they might take more care. I was glad they hadn’t shown any of those images. Surprise was another advantage I often employed on bounty runs, and it was necessary here.

  “The contestants are now being evaluated by the Network computer designed specifically to determine which one of our players has the best chance to win. Sending them against three fighters in a row is meant to take away the edge of the fittest over those who’ve had less training.”

  I didn’t
feel anything as the blue light went over my body in slow revolutions. On the wall screen, numbers and stats began to pop up. These figures were extremely familiar to me, and I forced myself not to grin. Once my name was announced, my Mother had hacked into the computer banks and pulled the models. We’d discovered what the estimates would be and made sure I fit them. There wouldn’t be any luck involved if we’d done it right. I would be chosen and not spend the next two days waiting for my turn. I wanted to be on the offensive, and when you were a Pruett, there were ways…

  “Thank you. Please step off of the scanner.”

  I moved back and watched myself disappear from the screen. The results would only take a few minutes to come in, and I studied the half a dozen contestants still being scanned. This was the time when the outside world placed their bets and made their predictions. It was also when we sized each other up according to what we read and noticed. For me, it was a time to pass impatiently. I’d done my homework long before I’d arrived.

  “We’ll have our Luck of the Draw fighter in just a moment, but before that, a reminder on the protection our contestants can earn from their matches. Stars are given for each kill, high popularity, and by Network decision. Each star gains the contestant one Network guard in the halls and private rooms, and a fresh cache of weapons and medical credits. Stars cannot be lost, but at the start of round two, they can be given away to protect someone else, such as visiting family.”

  There was a pause where my nerves started to get the best of me. I wanted this to be over and the fighting to begin. My eyes flickered to pink at the thought.

  “And the results are ready. We’ll hit the button here, and… okay, we’ll see the name when the timer counts down. Just watch the screen now…”

  The world waited just as impatiently as the contestants, and the mob of females outside the complex was nearly loud enough to be picked up by the Network speakers as the announcer called the name.

  “Candice M. Pruett!”

  “You have been scheduled for a match in one hour. Please report to the main arena on time.” The voice came from the console in my room at the same time the announcer filled in the listening viewers.

  “Our Luck of the Draw contestant is Candice Pruett! Will this eighteen-year-old bounty hunter survive the first three matches? The computer thinks so. Wadda ya say, folks? Wanna place a bet or two?”

  I waited to see who I would face in the first match tonight, suddenly thinking of the harsh training I’d done with Baker to get here. When I’d met him, he wasn’t a convict, only a tool to be used to sharpen my chances of winning.

  “And the first contestant our bounty hunting Changeling will face is…Diva, Queen of the Bronx Club! This street fighter likes to use her bare hands, and has a passion for singing. She’s been known to hum while bashing in her opponent’s…”

  I flipped the screen off. My interview tomorrow might include some of the stats unless I could find a distraction. A few of them were exact matches to this episode’s suggested numbers, and I would have to be careful not to make anyone suspicious. Going against the Network had to be done very carefully.

  3

  "Cage Match One!"

  I didn’t arrive early and expose my impatience for this to be officially underway. I was already feeling like an animal that had been boxed up too long and started going insane from it. I couldn’t have that known.

  I walked down the fenced-in area with even steps, feeling that alien coldness settle into my chest at the sight of the Diva. She was enormous and I had a quick moment to wonder if that side of the draw had been rigged as well. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t about to lose to this slave-trading gang leader.

  The cage was a small wired dome, with a bar between us that slid down as I stepped inside the arched doorway. The sides of the 12’ x 12’ fighting area were fenced, as much to keep us in as the crowd out, and lined with tiny, durable cameras for those up-close shots the crowds craved. The entire arena streamed with vivid flashes of brilliant blue light meant to make the battle hard, more entertaining, and the sound of the viewers screaming was overwhelming.

  I let no expression give away my thoughts as the hulking female in front of me cracked her knuckles and leered. Nicked and scratched, her scars were numerous but light, telling me she was good at ending the fight before her opponent could get close enough to deliver a serious injury. Dressed in white boxing shorts and a half top that accented the size of her, it was clear that the Diva was a brawler, but I was a killer, and I stepped forward eagerly.

  I didn't wince at her roar when the bell came, nor did I move when she charged me. What I did was get set, mentally running through the moves in an instant.

  I ducked, leaning forward, to drive the flat of my palm into her large, unprotected nose.

  Crunch!

  Blood splashed over me, and I gave the final killing shove, to silence the howls of agony spewing from her mouth.

  The Diva dropped to the mat with a damp, meaty thud, and I added her gang to my already long list of enemies.

  Silence...

  More silence... then chaos.

  "Match to Pruett!"

  Cheers and shouts erupted, contestants and viewers now screaming from the stands in disbelief at my quick execution. These were the New Network City residents and favorites of the ruling council. They lived here for the Games and the blood, and they only cared for the favors their rulers doled out to keep a wealthy following. Useless, I especially despised those who modeled for the Network, or starred in their little promo clips for the Games. Starlets had no place in this new world, except as bones under my boots.

  Shaking the Diva’s blood from my short, black spikes, I moved from the cage without a thought for the lumbering giant I'd just defeated. She had been the replacement contestant for the one I’d killed during the stroll on The Block, already dead before her name was drawn. I grinned, letting the shouts and jeers drive back the need to spill more blood.

  As I walked up the fenced cage length, ignoring those pleading on the other side, begging for mercy for their family member, I felt the tingle of being glared at. It was so strong that I spun to see which contestant it was.

  The Blonde Bombshell was cloaked in vivid scarlet, standing with two weaker females on the balcony above the cage. Long lashes framed cold, golden eyes, and arched brows added to the sense of menace. It matched what I’d felt from the doorway across the hall, and slowly, deliberately, I widened my grin. I knew who she was now.

  She nodded back with pink eyes, and I turned into the protection of my two guards as I entered the hall, tucking the double-starred ID into a bloody pocket. I was goading her, but I disliked her immensely for playing these Games so willingly. Why anyone would want to work for such brutal masters was beyond me. Only the heartless were close to the Network, and I already knew she would fit the job well. Maybe I felt the need to kill her to save the lives she would take during her reign as Head Defender, but I couldn’t spare the concentration to fully examine my own motives.

  I barely had time to finish a fast meal before the Bachelor guards came for me. The reporters followed us, but they hung back, and I was glad. They were vultures on the scene, trying to capture everything you didn’t want to give, and it was a slight struggle to keep quiet as the loud voice began broadcasting.

  “And now, our first match winner will take a tour of the prizes!”

  Deafening screams emanated from the halls and speakers as the watching world waited for me to step inside the male area. Glaring flat black, I opened the door.

  The Den Mother on duty stared in concern, and I sneered at her beehive of blue hair as the door closed, leaving the reporters to watch the cameras out there like everyone else. They weren’t allowed in. Only contestants were.

  Wearing the usual Network uniform, the tall, blue bun of hair gave the Den Mother an almost alien appearance. I could tell the live-in guard cared for her charges from the way she hovered, but it obviously wasn’t enough to keep them fro
m being hurt. The first cell I passed held two bloody men who refused to meet my eye for fear of triggering another attack, and I wondered how much she had taken to rent them out. It happened at every Game, but that didn’t mean the sight of it wasn’t turning my stomach against the Network even more.

  The Bachelor quarters were nice, luxurious even, but still cells, and without the Network's enhancers, the group of nine men barely noticed I was there. This was my tour of the prizes. I was even free to sample if I so desired, but I was very careful to not meet their dazed eyes. I’d seen happier animals on the side of the road.

  Daniel was in the second cell, and I couldn’t prevent the pause in my step when I saw him. Curled onto his side, that thin profile was one I’d seen every night for ten years, and it was hard to move on. The other Bachelors, I couldn’t say much about. I only made sure to pause at a couple more cells to appear I hadn’t already marked my mate for kidnapping or worse. Taking something the main contestant loved was a favorite tactic and I had little doubt that my Mother and Angelica were already guarding my Father against it.

  I moved toward the door with the same glare I’d come in with. They wouldn’t know which one I favored, but I did. I had told myself over and over that my current lover bore no resemblance to Daniel - that I hadn’t chosen along that line. Now, I was forced to admit that wasn’t entirely true. Their similarities were in the golden flashes scattered around the tips of Baker’s short black hair and in the exact same curve of their jaws. Had I watched my lover in profile and pretended it was Daniel? I didn’t want to think myself capable of that type of cruelty, but I couldn’t be sure. After all, I was here, playing one of the Network’s bloodiest games.

  I had told the reporter that I’d come for the fights, and that was the impression I sent to those watching, but it hurt me more than I can say to leave him there. It also sent relief rushing into my heart, knowing for sure that he was one of the prizes.