By Shade of Tree
Exploding with light and sound, the once-harmonious foyer became, in an instant, a dazzling spectacle equal parts garish and impressive. Fog consumed the ground, concealing it from view, set aglow from all sides, as if the entire floor had taken to the skies. Spectators gathered obediently with artificial clouds forming at their feet, rounded up by a thunderous announcement from a bold but unseen voice. From beneath the clouds rose two glimmering figures, taking center stage, heralded by the shout of their names: "Kore Mars and Yeqon Cryo!" The demand for applause that accompanied their arrival was met with a few scattered, tepid claps; too many of the uninitiated were left shielding their eyes from the beaming pageantry to show their appreciation. The show continued nonetheless.
Despite the ludicrous pomp, there was refreshingly little ado. The aforementioned Kore Mars, a bubbly young hostess adorned in shimmering gold, quickly laid down some ground rules:
Ljilja shuddered at the prospect of being left alone in a foreign land, tasked with killing those around her. Yet this was the true nature of the competition she had just entered. She leant her weight upon the tree trunk beside her, becoming nauseous and weak-kneed for the second time that day. A masked competitor more than twice her size took a seat not far from her. With prosthetic limbs and a body more metal than skin, he towered over her. She whimpered as he spoke, a raspy sound that chilled her to the bone:
"Good luck to you."
Ljilja's voice caught in her throat as thoughts of the morbid fates that might await her flooded her mind, her words a choked-up squeal. "Y-yo-you, too."
Her legs bade her to leave, but had hardly the strength. She tried to stand up straight, utilizing the tree's support ever more earnestly. And then came the flood.
In the dozens, managers and interested parties were released, seeking out their competitors for on-the-spot interviews to determine their suitability for sponsorship. It was a feeding frenzy, the floor rapidly being overwhelmed with the excited chatter of negotiation and commerce. Deals were made, Viz exchanged, futures secured—winners and losers, the very outcome of the Games hanging in the balance.
The importance and weight of sponsorship struck Ljilja all at once, and she realized with horror that, while other competitors were awash with a veritable deluge of interest from would-be benefactors, she stood at the outskirts with not...a...one.
The smile she held for appearances broke at once. She stepped forth from the tree, staggering slowly at first, pace building into a sprint. She ran for the exit.
A familiar grip took hold of her just short of the doors.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Ljilja struggled against the grasp of her manager, Jaden, whose insistence on her participation was beginning to grow very thin.
"Out—I want out," she tearfully replied.
"You haven't even started yet."
"I can't do this!" she cried.
Keeping hold of her arm, Jaden escorted Ljilja past the opaque glass doors once more. Then, he took her by the shoulders and gazed down at her, sternness growing in his crimson eyes. With a modicum of privacy, he pressed the matter.
"What's this about?" he asked.
"They—they're going to kill me," she sobbed, hanging her head to avoid his gaze.
"Only if you let them," he answered, though his words were small comfort.
"Look at me!" she demanded. "N-nobody wants me! You know why?! Because I am plankton out there, waiting to be eaten!" She collapsed to the floor, sitting with her knees to her chest. "If I join, I'll die."
"That's not what Sonja thinks."
Ljilja gasped, shooting her puffy-eyed gaze upward. Then her face contorted to a bitter frown. "No lies," she grumbled.
"No lies. I did a little research while you were getting your makeover. Your little fin friend is watching for you on the holos."
Ljilja cast her gaze back down to her knees.
"And she thinks you can win."
"Glupa Sonja," she muttered to herself.
"Winning is different things to different people, you know. You don't have to make it to the end," Jaden added. "Survive a couple rounds and you'll go home a hero. Make me enough money and I can even arrange a transfer for your family."
He had done his research. Ljilja never swore, but she was sorely tempted to make an exception.
"All you have to do is survive."
"What about sponsors...?"
"The less support you have, the more profitable when you succeed anyway."
"But I'll die out there..." Ljilja sniffled.
"Not if you train and I do my research. Have I done it?"
Ljilja begrudgingly nodded.
"So what do you need to do?"
"Train..."
Jaden extended his hand to help lift Ljilja up to her feet. She took hold of it and stood.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Ljilja sniffled again and, with the urging of her manager, entered the opaque glass doors one last time. Trembling like a leaf, she joined the crowd at the foyer and did her best not to draw attention—although a girl of her stature with such apparent evidence of recent weeping was not the easiest sight to ignore.
Despite the ludicrous pomp, there was refreshingly little ado. The aforementioned Kore Mars, a bubbly young hostess adorned in shimmering gold, quickly laid down some ground rules:
- Competitor tags must be worn at all times.
- Attempting to leave the competitor space is forbidden.
- Violence is strictly limited to the gym and is for training purposes only.
- Except in the Games, where murder is encouraged.
Ljilja shuddered at the prospect of being left alone in a foreign land, tasked with killing those around her. Yet this was the true nature of the competition she had just entered. She leant her weight upon the tree trunk beside her, becoming nauseous and weak-kneed for the second time that day. A masked competitor more than twice her size took a seat not far from her. With prosthetic limbs and a body more metal than skin, he towered over her. She whimpered as he spoke, a raspy sound that chilled her to the bone:
"Good luck to you."
Ljilja's voice caught in her throat as thoughts of the morbid fates that might await her flooded her mind, her words a choked-up squeal. "Y-yo-you, too."
Her legs bade her to leave, but had hardly the strength. She tried to stand up straight, utilizing the tree's support ever more earnestly. And then came the flood.
In the dozens, managers and interested parties were released, seeking out their competitors for on-the-spot interviews to determine their suitability for sponsorship. It was a feeding frenzy, the floor rapidly being overwhelmed with the excited chatter of negotiation and commerce. Deals were made, Viz exchanged, futures secured—winners and losers, the very outcome of the Games hanging in the balance.
The importance and weight of sponsorship struck Ljilja all at once, and she realized with horror that, while other competitors were awash with a veritable deluge of interest from would-be benefactors, she stood at the outskirts with not...a...one.
The smile she held for appearances broke at once. She stepped forth from the tree, staggering slowly at first, pace building into a sprint. She ran for the exit.
A familiar grip took hold of her just short of the doors.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Ljilja struggled against the grasp of her manager, Jaden, whose insistence on her participation was beginning to grow very thin.
"Out—I want out," she tearfully replied.
"You haven't even started yet."
"I can't do this!" she cried.
Keeping hold of her arm, Jaden escorted Ljilja past the opaque glass doors once more. Then, he took her by the shoulders and gazed down at her, sternness growing in his crimson eyes. With a modicum of privacy, he pressed the matter.
"What's this about?" he asked.
"They—they're going to kill me," she sobbed, hanging her head to avoid his gaze.
"Only if you let them," he answered, though his words were small comfort.
"Look at me!" she demanded. "N-nobody wants me! You know why?! Because I am plankton out there, waiting to be eaten!" She collapsed to the floor, sitting with her knees to her chest. "If I join, I'll die."
"That's not what Sonja thinks."
Ljilja gasped, shooting her puffy-eyed gaze upward. Then her face contorted to a bitter frown. "No lies," she grumbled.
"No lies. I did a little research while you were getting your makeover. Your little fin friend is watching for you on the holos."
Ljilja cast her gaze back down to her knees.
"And she thinks you can win."
"Glupa Sonja," she muttered to herself.
"Winning is different things to different people, you know. You don't have to make it to the end," Jaden added. "Survive a couple rounds and you'll go home a hero. Make me enough money and I can even arrange a transfer for your family."
He had done his research. Ljilja never swore, but she was sorely tempted to make an exception.
"All you have to do is survive."
"What about sponsors...?"
"The less support you have, the more profitable when you succeed anyway."
"But I'll die out there..." Ljilja sniffled.
"Not if you train and I do my research. Have I done it?"
Ljilja begrudgingly nodded.
"So what do you need to do?"
"Train..."
Jaden extended his hand to help lift Ljilja up to her feet. She took hold of it and stood.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Ljilja sniffled again and, with the urging of her manager, entered the opaque glass doors one last time. Trembling like a leaf, she joined the crowd at the foyer and did her best not to draw attention—although a girl of her stature with such apparent evidence of recent weeping was not the easiest sight to ignore.