I found myself in a significantly improved auditorium waiting for the Round 4 briefing. In contrast to the previous, more gloomy iterations, this one gleamed with the brilliance of a copper sun. Rose onyx pillars supported the many seating layers that towered over a chestnut stage. Bronze chandeliers danced with the fickle flames of candlelight. Even the merlot seats came equipped with russet upholstery.
Fawn paneling crisscrossed a trapezoidal roof that allowed filtered light in through thin sheets of plaster-colored windows. The air shimmered with the metallic glow. Thousands of contestants filled the amphitheater, their chatter bouncing off the sharp acoustics of the layout.
Drifting in the sea of white noise, my mind wandered to the night before. To what I could remember of it, anyway. I chuckled to myself. When I followed Terry into that night club I hadn’t expected such an amicable welcome. More than a few patrons shot disgusted looks our way as the night chugged along. One tried to comment but was shouted down with bawdy laughter and raucous insults.
Not all that night had been the subject of levity. The most prominent thing in my mind was the look the old bounty hunter gave me as he lamented his family. I came into this contestant against my will, sure, but I didn’t think I had much to lose. The glory of each successive win had started to suck me in, I realized that. The question now was whether I wanted it to stop.
Although crowded, there were noticeably fewer contestants than began Round 3. How many thousands had perished for the sick delight of a corrupt cabal of the galaxy’s elite? Was fatalistic entertainment for the privileged the best my life would amount to?
“Ladies, Gentlemen, Yarvorian businessmen -” A circular platform rose from the center of the hardwood stage. Atop its brassy finish stood the life of the show - Dolos. He chuckled at his own remark. “I kid! I kid! We love our Yarvorian patrons. Best wheels in the galaxy!”
“But you’re not here for a sales pitch. You’re here for one reason, and one reason only: immortality in the arena of the universe!” The host raised his cane in the air. Light caught the many facets of its jeweled pommel, refracting a rainbow of color.
We all cheered.
His smile only widened. “Let me just tell you, I think this is the most enthusiastic crowd we’ve ever had. It just warms my heart.”
Dolos strode forward to the edge of the stage. His face took a serious twist, needle-like eyebrows narrowing in concentration. “The preface has ended. It’s time for try-outs!” The stage made a resounding thud as he brought the tip of his cane down on its beams.
Try-outs? For what?
“You see, there’s still a lot of chaff mixed in with my delicious amber grains. The people made of stuff our audience really wants to see.” He clenched his fists, bringing them to his chest.
“You’ll have noticed by now that every one of you has been categorized by your past occupation, combat preferences, and approach to your trials in the competition.”
That’s right, I was noted as a “Gambler” class, “Trickster” variation. Whatever the hell that meant.
“Some of you are soldiers, engineers, technicians, psychics, and so on.” Dolos waved his hand in a rolling motion. “Well, the short of it is we have too much redundancy in our ranks. That’s not very entertaining, seeing the same thing over and over now is it?”
He frowned.
We booed.
“Now don’t you worry! We run into this every year, and we have perfected the solution. A Class Specialty Round! All members of a specific class are broken off into instances to compete in a trial most suited to their skillset. Only the best will emerge victorious and remain to represent their profession.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “Oh, this is one of my favorite rounds. There’s nothing like watching masters face off in their element. The action is premier!”
That did sound exciting. Since being forced into this competition the only thing I’d gambled with was my life. It would feel good to have some cards, dice, or even a fat pile of credits in my hand once again.
When I stopped my reminiscing I looked up to find Dolos staring in my direction. I must be imagining things, but he appeared to be staring straight at me.
“We don’t do amateurs here. The truth is most of you are just inferior copies of a more perfect archetype. Don’t be the one that gets discarded. Prove something today!” He smiled once more, taking his gaze away from me.
“Now then. I can’t contain myself any longer. Off with you, make me proud!”
Of course, he wasn’t looking at me. There were thousands of people in this crowd, why would he single me out? As much as I tried to reassure myself, I couldn’t stop the hair on my neck from rising.
My apprehensions faded away in the limbo that followed. I’d be in my element, wherever I was going. There was nothing to fear. I would have more control over my outcome now than the violence of the first three rounds. Or so I believed.
When I came to, the velvety cushion of carpet swallowed the sole of my loafers. It was a circular room lined with a perimeter of panoramic windows. The night sky outside illuminated with the lights of a distant city. Distant as in, we were so high up I could see the oblong limits of the endless row of gray buildings below. It amazed me that a skyscraper could reach this high and remain stable. From this height we must be nearly out of the atmosphere. A wispy cloud drifted by, dimming the glow of the underworld for a moment before breaking along the metal frame of the tower. I wasn’t acrophobic, but looking down at the ant-sized cityscape hit me with a wave of nausea.
Crystalline chandeliers swung from the coffered ceiling, glittering with a gentle pulse of flame. I stood in a lounge of sorts that overlooked a playing area down a set of parallel, curved stairs. Several dark couches that smelled strongly of leather populated this upper layer. Down in the center a grandiose wooden playing table nestled between rows of granite columns. Thirteen seats sprouted out of the crimson floor around the fixture. To the left of the main event, a lavish bar dripping in expensive-looking bottles of wine and candied liqueur was tended to by a strapping man in a set of gray overalls.
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I tugged at the lace of my collar. In a place like this, I felt undressed even in Lo Stregone.
I noticed that, to a degree, I was undressed. When the BIOS system initialized me in the lounge it must have stripped me of my weaponry because when I instinctively felt for the Thurma at my side it was no longer there, nor was my trusty Tenderizer or Saker. A feeling of defenselessness washed over me as I stood in the opulent sitting room.
My fellow competitors had already manifested in this penthouse casino and scattered about the lower floor. I spotted a bum-looking fellow in an oversized yellow jacket jabbering something with a mouth missing half its teeth into the ear of a tired-looking woman in a navy pantsuit. The bun on the back of her head had come unraveled, strands of straw hair poking out of the melting sphere. She sipped at a pink liquid in a martini glass, nodding absentmindedly at the codger.
Curiosity prodded my brain and I attempted to use my new contestant scanner on the mismatched pair. White lettering backlit with a light blue rectangle popped up as I focused my attention on the old man.
> Initializing…
>
> Contestant #83,219
>
> Rank 12 Human Gambler Trickster
>
> Power Rating: 20th Percentile
>
> Audience Approval Rating: 75th Percentile
20th Percentile? I couldn’t imagine that frail form generating much power. Perhaps that unseemliness was where his true strength lay.
Next, I tried the woman.
> Contestant #95,182
>
> Rank 6 Gambler
>
> Power Rating: 55th Percentile
>
> Audience Approval Rating: 67th Percentile
So more “powerful” than me, by this scanner’s estimate anyway, but less popular. One to keep an eye out for.
A Dralid male leaned against one of the granite pillars in the edge of the room. He was out of range of my scanner, but a spotting male Dralid off the Nest Worlds caught me by surprise. If you found one downrange, it was typically as they slid a knife through your abdomen. They were never allowed in mercantile, diplomatic, or political positions - at least not representing any Dralid national factions. This one was either an outcast or a special exception. A web of cybernetics covered him from neck to bald head. His spindly fingers were wrapped in the same lacework of skin-deep technical modifications. I had no idea what they would do, but they certainly did not look comfortable.
“Alright, alright. We ain’t payin’ ya to sit around and jabber. Everyone make their way to the table.” A tall, barrel-chested fellow in a waistcoat that threatened to pop with every move of his body beckoned from the head of the table. He wore a pale gallon hat and a thick brown mustache that reminded me of something out of an old corny action movie.
“No, you are paying me to upend these bumpkins in a row of stakes. I disappoint you though, noble House, this will be awfully quick.” A charcoal reptilian slithered out from between two pillars. His scale-cloth blended almost seamlessly with the hue of his coat, except instead of glittering like his scales it swallowed light like an endless abyss. An Undu Shadow.
> Contestant #23,103
>
> Rank 8 Gambler Assassin
>
> Power Rating: 25th Percentile
>
> Audience Approval Rating: 23rd Percentile
A bit of a tanky fellow to class as an assassin, but his power rating proved the efficacy of his trade. It was interesting to note that the BIOS system seemed to think a feeble old man stronger than the massive reptilian.
The House raised an eyebrow at the disruption. “Keep comments to a minimum, please.” When the Undu grunted his assent, the man continued. “Anyways, y’all know why you are here. The faster you take your seats the sooner we can get this show on the road.”
Awfully gruff for a LimeLight character. Their modus operandi typically involved a flash show of hands, some theatrical words, and overbearing enthusiasm. Too much Dolos, I guess.
I made my way down to the left edge of the table, finding a seat between the tired woman and a quiet, dark-skinned man with soft eyes. The least intimidating members of the crew - but perhaps that was their trick. I shrugged internally. It’s not like I could swap seats with the warm-looking Dralid or the humble Undu.
All thirteen of the seats were filled now - twelve contestants and the House in the middle on the far side of the table from me. He sighed, flapping the tips of his mustache with a whoosh of air. “Right then. Let me lay the ground rules for you gentlefolk.” His blue eyes scanned each of the table’s occupants with a leery gaze.
“No violence at my table. Anybody that tries to bust a move’ll get their head blown off so fast by old Jaq they won’t have time to scream.” The House jutted a finger toward the Retan standing at the room’s only doorway. I was surprised I hadn’t seen the hulking figure before. His gray, mottled skin wrapped tightly around corded muscle that bulged from under a set of Thracytin armor. The ridges of the hard Wyrm-chitin acted as a ground against electric attacks, could withstand tremendous heat, and could take the most crippling of blows. Only Retans could effectively wear it, as dense as the compound was. He carried a steel staff oscillating with purple energy in his right hands, and a plasma shield in his left two. A snowy beard fell in neat threads to the girding of his waist. His yellow eyes observed us unwaveringly.
Right. So don’t fuck around or the muscle monster will zap you. Got it.
“That’s my big rule. I could tell you not to cheat but we all know that ain’t gonna happen. Dolos gets off on that shit anyway, and so do our viewers. So my caveat is if I catch you cheating, you ain’t worth a damn, and I”m chucking you out the space needle. Kapeesh?”
A few of us nodded. The Undu snorted. “If I deceive, you most certainly will not find out.”
“I’m keeping an extra eye on you, lizardman.” The House pointed a finger gun at the Shadow. The Undu rolled his glossy eyes in reply.
“We’ve got several game types to get through, each round will eliminate anywhere from one to three contestants. Things you’ve all heard of I’m sure. Poker, Yablon, Gherron Roulette, you name it.”
“Each contestant will get a pile of 500,000 credits to start. Every game will have prolific amounts of betting involved, giving you ample opportunity to make a small fortune or strike out.”
500,000 credits a pop? That meant over 6,000,000 credits were on the line on this table alone. That would pay off almost half of my remaining debt in one go. I could practically feel myself salivating.
“Now don’t fret if you strike out. You can buy-in from your personal reserves, or you can enter a debt contract with LimeLight, but the details of that will be worked out should the need arise. Of course, if I’m bored of your ass I plain won’t give you that option. So be memorable.” The House shrugged. “And if a lot of you fall out in the same go I might consider running a redemption round to let one of the losers back at the big boy table.”
“What happens if you strike out?” An Undu female, who unlike her Shadow counterpart hadn’t uttered a word yet, broke the silence.
“You’re out of the game. Gone. Silenced. Carted off to the hole. I don’t know where you go; I don’t care.” The House replied flatly.
Just like that. What would they do with a live contestant? Was that white-haired witch right all along? My mind raced with the possibility of existence as a lab rat.
“And that leads me to the final part of your briefing. Of the twelve of you sitting here with me, only the two finalists will be allowed to leave. Everyone else has got to go, boss’ orders!” He spread his hands in mock helplessness.
“Oh, and drinks are on the house.” He winked.