Cameras point their faces towards me and the other players. People are going to see this. People are going to see me. Other contestants are putting on their TV personas and some were already in them. Sheena bothers with none of that crap and just does the Sheena Walk down the metal steps. It could’ve been someone else, I think. Maybe even Scorpio. She wasn’t supposed to audition with us. The smell of salt water billows into the air like someone’s bad perfume. I’m sure I’ll get used to it, which might not be a good thing.
A tall woman leads us past the concrete and to a stretch of beach. She stands so close to the water, her white heels might get wet when a wave laps the sand.
“Welcome, players to the Crown of Snakes,” she says, her voice cut cleanly. She gestures to us. Or rather, behind us. I look over my shoulder with the others and see what I thought was just a big rock from the plane. I suppose it is a big rock, but it’s more. A curling cobra rises above the tropical green, scales etched into the gray of the stone. Its empty eyes are unforgiving almost. The head is framed with a wide hood. I feel as if they missed a trick by not putting a crown on it though. “Please, assemble in your teams,” says the woman, her icy eyes sifting through all of us. I walk to Valerie and Sheena but there’s still no sign of Kiyoshi. “You started the game before you arrived. On your form, you were asked if you would choose $1,000,000 or your teammates' life. The majority of you picked the money but did the majority of your team?” My mind starts racing. Is Kiyoshi dead? The advert said the prize was $1,000,000 so how the heck does that work? “Of course, no one here is going to die,” she says. Venom drips from the word ‘die’. No one here. Kiyoshi isn’t here. I know I’m overthinking this but I don’t trust her. “I did scale it up in the form. Your teammate will be on this island but not as a player, as a villager and you will only get $20,000.” Holy shit. People whisper to their teams. Suddenly shit has gotten real. One million dollars seems surreal but twenty thousand doesn’t.
“The Silver Boas have chosen their teammate,” she continues. I watch as a girl with strawberry blonde hair reveals herself from the trees behind us. I hear another girl in her team squeal ‘Briar!’ and hug her. She must be Briar’s twin, the only difference I can see from here is that Briar is wearing lots more makeup.
“The Black Mambas have chosen their teammate.” Ash and his team give a cold response to a girl with deep red hair coming out from the bush. Her hair looks dyed and her cat eyes tell me she means business.
“The Kingsnakes,” she says, “have chosen the money.” Kiyoshi doesn’t come out from behind the trees. Our team is $20,000 richer but one kind, introverted person poorer. He’ll watch this. He’ll know we were selfish. Everyone watching this will know. And they will remember. The team who wanted the money. Perhaps it’s not the worst reputation. Sheena and Valerie don’t show any reaction to the revelation and stay quiet.
“We are going to give you your kit,” the host says. Three more people emerge from the forest. How many people are stashed in there? They wear tight black outfits with red and silver scale-like patterns and shiny black masks like we’re in Squid Game or something like it. One comes to each team to hand us a large rucksack, one per person. “You’ll find clothes and all the supplies you’ll need plus watches to show you how much money your team has earned. In this game, you’ll have to stick with your team to earn cash which you will split among you if you win.” I reach into my rucksack and find my watch under a rope- I’ll put the clothes on later when cameras aren’t pointed at me. The band is stretchy and a deep, blood red. I pull it over my wrist so that it’s next to my bracelet. Lit up on the rectangular screen is ‘20,000’. That’s what we thought was worth Kiyoshi. I guess we’ll see if it is.
“Oh,” says the host, “one last thing. You’ll be voted out by the Royal Road readers.” She walks away from us, her pale skin and hair fading into the distance. The black mambas run into the woods to get going but the rest of us stay here.
“So um. What the fuck are we meant to do?” Briar asks, in that drawl you only get in America, twirling her pale ginger-blonde hair. One of her teammates shrugs. Her fashion style can only be described as punk. She has a black sports bra and heavy, metal studded trousers. Her hair is blonde with blue and pink streaks at the front on either site. Her eyeshadow has the blue and pink switched, making her look Harley Quinnesque. A large tattoo of a thorny rose weaves its way from her elbow to her collarbone. I have a feeling she might struggle with the outfits provided. The boy in their group and Briar’s twin look so boy/girl next door-y in comparison with their plain outfits and pretty average faces.
“What do you mean?” says Sheena. “It’s obvious.” I’m a little confused that Sheena isn’t.
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“What are we meant to do then, genius?” asks Briar, one hand on her hips.
Sheena gives a little shrug. “I don't know,” she says in a way that lets Briar know that she does. I walk towards the shore and try and see if we’re close to any other islands but all I can see is blue. Ocean blue and sky blue. “Come on Valerie and the other one with the super similar name. We’re not wasting any more time with these losers,” Sheena says. Sheena leads us into the jungle, putting her arms in a rocket shape to part dangling vines. I watch my every step as if the brown leaves could be tarantulas and vines are green pythons. They’ll have medics on site, I tell myself. No one is going to get hurt.
“You don’t know what we’re doing, do you?” I ask Sheena. She shakes her head and laughs a bit. “You idiot!” I shove her on impulse. “They must have known more than us and you fucked it up! They’re going to hate us now.” Sheena wears unfazed like her khaki pants. “Right. Lets unload our packs and put on our uniform.” She does what I say but begrudgingly. I unzip the heavy rucksack and lay everything out on the smallish square of tarp that is in there. We each have a sleeping bag, a watch, clothes and a flint. I have a rope, Valerie has a compass and Sheena has a map. At the bottom of my backpack is a black plastic box. I lift it out to see what’s inside it but as soon as I lay it on the ground, wings splay outward with circles on the end. It starts whirring and rises up. A drone. To film me. Valerie sees mine float up and take out hers. I look closer at mine and see my initials printed onto the side. V.V. The same as Valerie’s.
“Oh god, I am not getting mine out. Why the fuck would I want a drone buzzing round my head 24/7 watching me. I had enough of those in high school,” Sheena says, decidedly zipping up her bag. She does put on her watch before though and takes out her clothes. “I’m going behind that tree. Don’t look,” she says, “unless you want to see the reason your boyfriends keep leaving you.” My boyfriend never left me. Not really. I take my bundle of fabric and go to a far away tree after throwing the tarp square over my drone.
The clothes are interesting. Well fitted, dark red leather covers all my limbs except for my right arm, the one with my watch and bracelet, and my left leg. It ends in a leotard fashion on that side. Inside the bundle is a red hair tie which I use to put my hair in a ponytail and a deep red lipstick which I apply obviously. I don’t need a mirror to know I look like a winner. I jog out from behind the tree to find Sheena and Valerie already there. I pull the tarp off my drone and point my better side towards it. Valerie shifts in her costume, looking slightly awkward. Loose clothing in pastel greens is more her thing. I move to Sheena’s bag and let her drone free.
“Hey!” she says. “I wanted to keep it there!”
“Just shut up. It’s a reality show. You can’t hide from cameras,” I say, pulling out the map. “Look, we’re in the woods by the tail of the snake. I think we should go to the giant cobra statue.” Sheena doesn’t bother to argue with me and we start walking.
A piece of bark scratches my leg and I shrink back. We need to find the Black Mambas. We could become allies. They seemed so laser focused and I want to win. No. I need to win. And although I won’t say it, I can’t win with these two.
We keep walking towards the statue. Root by root, vine by vine. Sheena decides that she’s tired halfway through.
“No you’re not. Keep walking,” I say, looking ahead. “We’re almost there.” Are you allowed to switch teams? Could I just leave them here to join the Black Mambas?
We reach the cobra statue after ten minutes of walking. It looms above us, poised, ready. Ready to pounce. Ready to kill. Like I need to be.
I hear the Black Mambas before I see them. Their drones tell me they’re here, sitting on the snake statue’s coiling body. I give a small wave to Ash which he returns. I notice that there are only three of them sitting there. The redhead, the long braid girl and Ash.
Something sharp stabs into my backs right below my neck. I stumble forward and see that the same thing has happened to Valerie and Sheena except they’ve fallen down, a stick pointed at each of their backs to keep them there. The person holding them in place is a shadowy figure. He’s wearing his black version of my outfit except his covers his whole body. On top of that, he wears a sleeveless hoodie, unzipped, hood up, shielding his face slightly but long black strands of hair fall out anyway. He takes the long sticks off Valerie and Sheena’s backs but replaces them with his feet. Valerie makes a small yelp of pain and Sheena writhes to get him off. Then the poles come slicing the air towards my head, knocking me off guard, again, and causing me to fall. I try to scramble up but the game is lost. The guy slides the sticks into his hoodie to make an ‘x’ shape. It looks like he’s cut holes to fit them but it’s hard to tell when your face is smushed against the floor.
“Three Kingsnakes. They’re backpacks must be behind them,” he says, his voice clear and instructive. One of the girls leaps up, her long black braid whipping the air. She looks like Lady Noir from a distance. She runs swiftly to where we put our bags, a little ways away from the statue and takes them back to the Black Mamba camp. The man lets us go, his hood sliding back to reveal a pitiful smirk framed by hair Snape would be proud of.
“You should consider walking into a Black mambas territory next time. We aren’t known for not taking the opportunities given. It’s just a shame you happened to be our prey,” he says. I feel stupid as I brush off the dirt. I feel stupidly naive because he’s right. And I won’t be prey again.