At the sound of the bell, Harpy’s chains fell off her metal collar and the match started. Her handler pulled chains outside the cage to make sure they wouldn’t be used as a weapon.
She made to lunge at her opponent, but when he raised his adult gorilla arms to protect his child human face, she used him as a springboard and leaped. Once up, she pushed down with her arms, catching the air and stalling her fall, while her legs shoot up and grabbed the ceiling bars. It would buy her time to hatch a plan, hanging upside down out of range and easily keeping her opponent in sight. The crowd cheered at her manoeuvre; her acrobatics were part of what made her a favourite.
Her mutations had replaced her arms and feet and made it impossible to function in a normal daily life, but being owned by a member of the Black Market made that a moot point. The wings and talons that had replaced them were assets in here, making her exotic to watch and giving her unique options, both practical and for show. Her human head and trunk were shapely and eye-catching on their own, although she couldn’t tell if it was a mutation too. Her appearance and her habit to jump around in the arenas had made her called ‘Harpy’. She had long forgotten her real name.
Flying or even gliding was impossible with her wings, but she never had enough space to try that anyway. She didn’t care about that. All that mattered was to give the audience a pleasant enough show to ensure her survival and her next meal. If her opponent was good enough, he might even survive too. Looking at him below, she didn’t have much hope.
What truly set her apart from the freaks of the Black Market was that she was a natural mutant. No surgery, 3G improved or otherwise, had been involved to make her into what she was. It meant her limbs matched, they fit her, and she hadn’t needed as long to get used to her new state.
The poor child she was pitted against was not; he had been awkwardly grafted with adult gorilla arms and cloven hoofs, both too large for him. Two matching pairs, he was luckier than most, even if the pairs didn’t complement each other. He wouldn’t climb more than stairs any time soon. He probably belonged to a newly rich member who took a gamble to rise their social standing further.
From his awkward gait and overcompensating arm sweeps, he hadn’t learnt how to use his new body yet. The thin lines she had spotted on his torso showed the human parts had also been operated on, but she couldn’t tell if things had been replaced, added or removed. She couldn’t see his neck through his shock collar, but the lack of cries and shouts let her figure at least his vocal cords had been removed. She could totally see someone give that order to make a crying child shup up.
She felt a pang of sadness, but she quickly pushed it down. Pity wouldn’t help anyone. She had to focus on giving a good show.
She heard the mocking laughter of the audience. Only wardens were around, hidden in the shadows of the arena outside the cage, but invisible cameras were strewn everywhere to broadcast the degenerate display at any angle they wished. Hidden loudspeakers were used for ambience and to let the most affluent customers affect the mood. More now, they were amused by his antics.
Wait, amused?
She could work with that. Make him ridicule himself. Jump around him, make him fall by barely touching him. Show off his awkwardness and contrast it with her own agility and skill. If he cooperated and answered her cruel attitude with a contrast of his own, they might both pull it off. She might even not have to bloody her claws today.
She had a plan. She took a deep breath, centred herself, and started.
Showtime.
She opened her talons and dived. One jump. One clumsy fall. A sadistic sneer. A nudge on his arm as he stood up. Second fall. A rib at his new posture. Laughter increasing. It worked. Another jump. Alarm blaring. Alarm?
Harpy was pulled out of the mental state she was forcing herself in by the discordant noise and blinking lights filling the whole area even beyond the cage. It took her one second to notice that her collar had opened and fell off, down below on the ground. A glance downward showed the same for her opponent. All the doors were opened too, the cage’s and the arena’s. Confused noises and screams came from behind it.
Some wardens reflexively pointed their weapons at them, others went to the door, others alternated between the two, unsure. Their calls for orders were unanswered, the landline unresponsive. Remote communication could be detected; the Black Market couldn’t afford that. The gladiators didn’t dare to make a move, the fight forgotten.
The sounds from the door were louder and louder, until a small crowd burst through, pointing behind them with their mismatched weapons. They closed the door, but the lock refused to work. Harpy used the distraction to move and hide in a hollow obstacle on the ceiling, her talons proving their situational worth again. It was cramped, but safer. From there, she kept an eye on the newcomers, but the blaring siren covered their words.
Two important looking people were in the centre of the formation, a young frazzled man and an old frustrated one. The others stayed around them for protection, most at least a bit hurt, several seriously so. Many were easy to identify as wardens thanks to their uniforms, albeit subtly different than the warden’s, and the arena’s joined them. The others didn’t wear uniforms, so… mercenaries? Undercover guards? Harpy couldn’t tell.
The leaders were arguing, the young one pointing to the door to the gladiator’s cells, on the opposite side of the arena, while the older one pointed to a closer door on their own side. A warden motioned towards the cage, prompting the young one to shout an order and the guards to gun down the child who had already retreated as far as he could. Harpy leaned back and barely managed to cover her mouth, holding her shout in.
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What’s going on here!? Who ARE those people!?
She was shaking, more shocked than her collar had ever made her. Death and killing had become a normal part of her life, but both parties had always had a decent chance at survival. It made for a more gripping spectacle. This was nothing more than a callous execution! And despite his oversized limbs, he was clearly a child!
She couldn’t afford to be careless now, even less than before. She forced her breath back under control and cast an eye outside her hideout, the habit of not leaving her opponent out of sight giving her something to focus on.
The leaders were shouting now, she could glean a bit more. The young one had brought calamity to all those who had tried to help him, the old one had still tried because of a debt to his relative, but the young one kept making things worse and...
“You deserve every bit of what’s coming for you, you reckless ingrate fool! Was it not enough to tear down everything your father built!? You have to bring ruin to the whole Black Market too!?”
That shout was so loud and angry it filled the arena. The young one didn’t appreciate it one bit and the two groups quickly ended up pointing weapons towards each other. They had mingled, so everyone had several targets on front of them, but was also targeted by several. The wardens pointed against the young one and his men, revealing the old one as the fighting pits’ ringleader. Only he could give orders to wardens of different sections at once.
They had the number advantage, but the young one’s were in a better position. Had it been staged? The young one’s anger and his own men’s nervosity made that doubtful. The old man and his men were tense and focused, not betraying any emotion.
The tension was at its highest. Nobody dared to say a word, to twitch a muscle. All it would take was a single sneeze to make a carnage. They got more than a sneeze.
The door they had come through burst open, an amplified voice easily making itself known:
“Enforcers! Nobody moves! Drop your weapons!”
***
<< It doesn’t matter what Circle you come from and what your job is, everyone is taught from their youngest age that supporting the growth of the Shelter is the most important task. That should be everyone’s priority, no matter how small or how far removed their role is.
Every part of the Shelter is built around one purpose: to make it grow. It’s why and how the Core, the dot and the Circles are what they are. It’s why and how we support each other. It’s why and how our species survived. It’s why and how our culture exists. It’s why and how people’s worth is measured. It’s why and how deep and useful mutations are a boon that will get you closer to the outside world.
If you renege that goal, what’s the point of improving yourself? What is the point of working at all? Why is the 3G precious? Why do mutations matter? Why is Explorer the dream job every child dreamed of at least once in their life? Why have I lost all my friends one after the other!? >>
The recording was audio only, but it wasn’t hard to perceive the emotions brimming in the long-winded speech. Whoever it was, it couldn’t be denied they were speaking from the heart.
“Yes, yes, we’ve all heard it already. Very moving.” A towering man with grey, leathery skin mocked. “Nothing new so why are we all here, Horny?”
The jab of the rhinoceros man went unnoticed by the mediator who had called for that gathering. Bathor had heard it all before, being part of the Arya Family. Their trait was their ability to reverse their mutations; but no matter what she became or how she did it, she was unable to remove the single perfect bovine horn on the side of her skull. She glanced at the rest of the audience to gauge their reactions.
One hostile, two neutrals, one serious. Better than most starts.
Next to the mocking of the spokesperson of the Brahn Family, the Libero Family’s was yawning and idly scratching at his thick scales, while the Yokai Clan’s was showing exactly enough interest for courtesy. Only the rainbow haired woman of the Kogito Family was serious; but that was to be expected; they had ordered that gathering. It did nothing to stop her sneers, however.
“As expected of the Meathead Family, you didn’t see the obvious.”
The only meetings requiring the presence of all the Main Families were about issues traversing the borders. All five of them only knew the general situation surrounding that recording; the details were closely kept by the higher ups. The attempted sabotage on the one 3G supplier of the Shelter couldn’t be what those bitter rivals had been gathered for, those meetings were between important people. Despite the Kogito’s mockery, the question had to be laid down.
“Unrest is brewing and something needs to be done before it gets out of hand.” The conciliator took up the reins of the conversation before it devolved in a squabbling again. Those were always a pain to handle.
Nobody had noticed the power of the commentary at first, naturally focused on the surrounding situation, but all it had taken was a quality cut – without editing – and an effective clickbait title for it to go viral. Nobody knew who had launched it, but it didn’t matter anymore. It was still running looping in all media and social platforms, absolutely everyone had heard of it, and most had heard it directly.
“We all noticed the recent social unrest.” The horned woman pursued. “Some are positively roused by this speech, others negatively, and frictions are growing. At every level of the Circle.”
“Just petty fights between dumbasses. Not a problem. Not our problem.” The grey man dismissed.
“I hate to agree, but I don’t see what it has to do with us either. Even if it goes too far, the Circle has people to handle that kind of unrest. Even if peaceful resolutions fail.” The Yokai representative concurred, nervously stroking his facial marks. They were a common feature of the Clan, but others could never tell which were makeup or not.
“Regardless, the heads want something to be done about it, and our superiors decided we be the ones who do it.” Bathor stated.
The magical words ‘our superiors’ silenced any budding discontent. They didn’t enjoy it any more or less, but none of them could afford to talk back to their respective bosses, they were already in hot water.
Some among them thought further and realised it was probably why they had been chosen: their superiors needed to execute the task given to them by their own superiors, so they gave it to people they would happily use as scapegoats in case of failure. One less problem if they failed, brownie points for their own superiors if they succeeded.
It also showed that their superiors didn’t particularly care about the issue either.
“So what’s the plan?” The gator mutant of the Libero sighed, wishing for a cosy heating lamp to sleep under.
Everyone turned toward the Kogito representative. As annoying as she was, her mind was pretty sharp. It was a requirement to be part of that Family.
“First, we must find and take control of the little dotter who started it all…”