Everyone's so full of shit.
The van rumbles as we move along into the field.
"Make sure Princess didn't forget any of her jewels," Adel mocks me through the radio. "Lest we forget the royalty's embellishments."
"Whatever. All green. Lori, out."
"''Atta girl," the radio prompt closes on my HUD.
The escorts stood by the doors, and open the rear of the van for me to walk out.
"Best of luck as always, Ms. Kruger," they remind me, routinely. I don't even bother to look back at them as I exit the vehicle.
Bright stadium lamps try to blind me as I quietly tread forward.
The announcer chimes, "Welcome, and thank you grandly for your attendance and viewership! I'm your host, Jamia Janessen! And in today's installment of our bloody beauty's adventure..."
I like how this suit makes me feel tall while I'm in it. But I also like how i can take it off and be my normal height when the shift's over.
I also like how my bird head-shaped helmet hides my apathetic bitch-face as I wave to the crowd. Sometimes I wonder if I catch their attention because I look like a toucan or because I'm covered in blood.
"And now, let the slaughter, commence!" Jamia almost gasps in her hype-up, sounding just like the desperate, sorry shrieks of a classmate I was beating the shit out of back in junior high.
Out of the mist, Jackal #1 comes straight at me with #2 and #3 right at its side. I hop up, then perform a backflip, and feed #2 and #3 with my heels, and split the nose open on #1 with my FAB-66, a 66-centimeter blade on my left forearm. With the 9mm SMG on my right arm on the ready, I plant a few rounds in the skulls of either Jackal at my feet and gave the FAB for #1 to chew on, landing right on its body. Salt plates shatter under my feet and #1's body with the combined weight of both of us driving the blade further in the back of its throat. The pathetic thing gargled at me, as if trying to complain. 2 and 3 seem to be neutralized, albeit twitchy.
#4 and #5, drooling and tripping with anger, flank me laterally and I jump again, with them each taking their lefts to try and fool me into thinking they're not going to jump up. As they're on their way up, I slice the jaw open on and kick the nose of #5 back down onto the salt. A few more shatter as I roll to dissipate the impact. Nosebleeding didn't stop there as #5 tries to headbutt me, scraping my right foot as I do a quick ballet twirl and send a few more 9mm rounds up its ass as mometum takes it a few meters the other way from me. It limps, shakes it off, and does a quick 180.
We charge towards each other. Both parties try to assess how far the other will jump, and I went high enough to frontflip over it to put a nice long incision along its spine, but managed to crane its ugly head to bite onto my left hand.
It brought me down and slammed me on my back. Thank God for arm-brackets and shock dissipators. The claws on my left sliced up #5's pallet and with a frothy mouth of blood it bites me again at my hair. Snagging a few strands, I filet its right eye.
"Owwie, our heroine's hair stylist might not appreciate that on their next appointment! Perhaps she might earn back the style points to cover the loss!" Jania buzzes through the speakers, like a gnat in my ear.
Squeals and more blood speckling everywhere, it manages to grab my hair this time, for a split second, bringing me to the ground again, while I stab it straight between the eyes. It screams, completely losing sentience, as my blade and arm stay lodged in its skull.
"It looks like Lawless Lori has taken a tumble! Perhaps her style is catching up to her speed, or apparent lack of it today! Can she recover?"
A couple thrashes broke me free and I made a rolling landing a few meters away. Before I could drop a finishing move, it collapses to the ground, heaving upon the order of whatever's left in its brainstem.
"Scum of carbon-based life is still breathing," I mutter.
I walk to the flinching abomination as it flails with a gentle fountain of red coming from its forehead. Peppering it with more 9s would be too lazy, and would ruin the pelt. Stabbing it while it's down would be cliché. My pity of these things, along with the crowd's usual hunger for my style, compel me to be a bit more dressy.
The tail flops a couple times, so I grab it, slice it off, hold it straight, wedge it in the head-hole, grab the carcass by the nose, cut it off by the neck, and hold it high for the camera to see. I give myself a quick shower in blood just for extra job security.
"Our sweetheart does it again, pulling herself out of trouble, almost as quickly as she got into it! Bravo, Ms. Kruger! Bravo, as always... Don't miss us tomorrow, we will...." she melodically falls to a satisfied tone, as the crowds cheer through the speakers. I know they're cheering. It's funny how the show directors still play it through the van speakers as if I give a shit.
The lenses focus on me as I slowly walk back to the van. On a day like this, definitely need a power-wash-- for both the suit and the hair behind my head; thank God again that I can't smell it.
-
Adel blasts me with the white beam of water. "Yeesh, how did that happen?"
"What, my hair?" I grumble to her back through the radio.
"Yeah."
"Trajectory calculator went a bit low."
"Hmm, okay." She turns the stream from spray to jet and hits my back and the lower half of my locks. The rheopectic armor smoothes out the sharp pressure to a dull one. At my end of the flexible latex-like garment it's almost like someone's thumb and palm,, rubbing me down my back. Almost like someone giving me a back massage I never asked for.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
"Do you like doing that?" I groan.
"Well, if I don't, you're gonna stink way worse than your attitude, so stand straight, please," she tilts her head and smiles gently.
I roll my eyes.
"Okay, so now you turn the Threshold value up a few points," Adel and I sit at the shop computer. She tweaks a dial on a window for the trajectory calculator adjustment and re-calibration.
Her hand is so damn huge. Veiny, too. Her four fingers are each as thick as my thumb, no, both my thumbs. It's almost as if, if she were as mad as I, she could crush that mouse with two fingers. Blows me away she has the motor control to click and drag some virtual dials on a computer screen.
"Now, click 'Sim Test Run' from the Return to Service menu on the right," and an animation of me doing the same move today, and similar moves, plays with me apparently clearing it this time. "You think you can do this yourself next time?"
I blankly stare at her, trying to look as bored as possible. "You're welcome," she gently smiles again, and gets up, with my Traj-Cal module in her hand.
"That thing is barely the size of your thumbnail, how do you not crush it just holding it like that?" I tilt my head, trying to sarcastically look cute as I sit with my legs crossed.
"You're welcome, Princess," she walks off to re-install the module. "Stupid remote update doesn't work..."
I look down at my fingernails revolving, tapping on the computer desk. Just happy I don't have sausages on my hand.
At the mess hall, a couple of fully-covered goons deliver a holo-message to me as I place my veggie burger down.
"Evening, Ms. Kruger; The Show Directorate would like you to be mindful of your equipment as optimal function is necessary for your performance and the show quality. If you have issues, please consult your maintenance technician or the department for adequate..." Those bootlickers only come here because they know I never check my overflowing inbox in my IrisHUD.
The two only get a blank stare from me as I mumble, "Thanks," looking back down at my salad and sandwich.
"Oh, the shit those two girls say to look busy," Adel drops her tray of fries, chicken slices on the same salad, two cups full of soda, a fruit pie, and a tray of some dark, thick liquid.
"Used engine oil is a condiment now?" I remark, as she bumps into my shoulder with her doubly-massive own. It's like a big memory foam pillow hitting me.
"Yes ma'am, and some damn good tasting oil at that," she grabs my sandwich, dips it in the mysterious black goop, and takes a bite. I calmly grab her fries in retaliation.
"Oh, shit," she mumbles with her mouth full, "it's that veggie bullshit. You can have this back," she puts it back on my tray.
"What're you gonna do, spit it out?"
She swallows it, with a twitchy eyebrow. "Nah, I'd hurt your feelings. I can put up with it if I'm hungry enough. The sauce inside it ain't bad."
"Yeah, I like it too, thank you very much," I side-eye her, reclaiming my sandwich.
That black stuff smells strongly of black pepper, vinegar, and some other spice. Adel dips her fries in it, eats a handful, and points a few shreds to me.
"Any dead shit in it?"
She shakes her head.
I slowly grab a few, smell it again, and give it a try. It's sweet, a little sour, garlic, onion, salty. And a bit more black pepper than to my liking, but not that bad. A type of stir-fry sauce, maybe.
All I give Adel is a shrug and we both finish dinner.
"Be right back with some ice cream," she gets up and goes back to the serving line rails.
"Why do you like strawberry?" she asks me, watching me put a pink bar of the stuff in my mouth.
"The color, really. I like the strawberry-citrus ones better." Adel bites straight into a Triple Deep Dark Choco.
"How girly," she quietly chides. I respond with slience. "What do you wanna do tonight? Arcade's open."
"Nah."
"What's got you so down today? Just the Traj-Cal being off and losing a couple shreds of hair?"
I grumble underneath my breath, giving Adel a glancing look, then turn back to the other tables in the mess hall. She bumps me with her elbow and I moderately push it away. "Fuck off."
"How about just a quiet hike outside?"
A few seconds go as I make up my mind. "Whatever."
We plod outside, hands in pockets. After a monotonous few minutes pass, she asks, "So what kind of dream boy visited you last night?"
"You know my type."
"No, must've been something or somewhat different last night. How was he?"
Never be in a hurry to answer her questions. "Brown eyes, long rockstar hair."
She lets out an adoring mutter. "Why rockstars this time"?
"You think I know?"
"Dreams are weird like that. You must have thought something similar weeks ago while awake."
Can't say I'm picky. Surely the UWWA has all types of fellows at their little spa where they're kept. So long as he's... as lean as I am, I guess.
"No dad-bod and I'm good," I tell her. "Like either of us can afford to be pickier?"
She hesitates. "Probably not."
I look at her for a couple seconds, look back at the ground, and then back at her again. "Who's yours"?
"Who, the guy I saw in last night's dream?" She hesitates a few seconds more. "Same, as long as he's bigger than me."
"Like who?"
"Eh... can't think of anyone in particular." A few more steps. "Maybe a jarhead cut. Mint green."
"Sounds like some cartoon character."
"Reality is stranger than fiction," she smirks.
"Can even the thought of a man make you smile?"
"No, but the idea of you shutting the fuck up will," I smirk back to her. She continues smiling, shaking her head as we continue stepping forward.
We stop and watch the sunset go over the lake, rocks, and trees for a couple seconds. "I like purple, too. Grape and strawberry ice cream would be nice right now. Call it Sunset-...something."
We get to the gate of the MP base and walk out into the downtown area. Cauldron's a decent city. Can't remember what the other towns I was transferred from but this is definitely better.
"Still no on the arcade?" Adel points to it as we pass by.
"Not with that long of a line," a mixture of corpulent figures with the emaciated are ahead of us outside the arcade. All dressed for the occasion.
I'm in my usual black UWWA-logoed crop top tank, silver-gray leggings, hi-tops, and MOLLE purse.
"They'll probably let you cut in line," Adel says.
"Alright, whatever." We walk over. The line either stares, quietly squeals, and a couple ask me for autographs."Buzz off," Adel shoos them away. We look around inside for something not knowing exactly what.