I

  Tension’s been a constant in the Live facility from day one, but tonight it is striking. The fifty-four contestants sit in silence before the expansive holographic screen, their eyes wide, their smiles strained. The space, normally alive with the sound of casual conversation, now resembles a holding cell. Everybody is watching the holographic advertisements splashed on the walls, but nobody knows what products they are promoting, not really.

  Rebecca occupies her usual spot beside Reese at the back of the room.

  The obsidian gown is gone, replaced by the standard-issue gray jumpsuit, yet the silver chain still rests against her collarbone. It’s a small act, but the audacity in it charges her with a semblance of control—and a touch of beauty. All she had to do was hide it in her underwear before entering the capsule. Of course, she’ll never tell.

  She doesn’t smile, nor does she frown—she just watches. But her hands rest under her legs, the only way to hide their tremor.

  At 9 p.m. sharp, the arena comes to life on the screen, its vibrant colors lighting up the room. Rebecca extends a cold, clammy hand and finds Reese’s. He tightens his grip, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand in silent reassurance. They haven't mentioned the ball—or the fight they had at the end of it. Just knowing that either of them could be sent to the arena is enough for one day. Rebecca can tell Reese isn’t truly scared, but something still worries him. He’s been unusually quiet, keeping a low profile, lost in thought.

  “Welcome back to Live! Tonight marks the beginning of the most pivotal event of this show. Tonight we’re diving into the elimination rounds!”

  “Get ready to welcome the two contestants set to face off in the first elimination battle…”

  The female host pauses, prolonging the suspense with theatrical flair, managing it like an expert. Every breath in the room hitches in anticipation. Rebecca squeezes Reese's hand. The screen goes black, and then the numbers start rolling until they settle on two—displayed in the center of the wall, white and shiny:

  27 - 51

  “The people have spoken, ladies and gentlemen. Let's welcome Contestant 27 and Contestant 51 into the arena!”

  The other contestants—the ones who haven’t been chosen—sigh in relief. Then come the whispers. Two figures—a young man with a shaved head and the drug-addicted woman who tried to sell her child—are ushered forward by the ever-watchful security spider drones. The man's face pales, his eyes wide with terror. In contrast, the woman holds her head high, a defiant glint sparking in her eyes.

  As they vanish through the heavy steel door leading to the arena, the room falls strangely quiet. The screen transitions to a live feed of the battle ground below the hosts' floating stage. It is a rectangular space, drenched in harsh spotlights, with the dirt floor changing colors under the artificial illumination. The audience erupts in boos and accusatory shouts. Contestants 27 and 51 descend on a square levitating base, barely larger than their feet, their hands and legs bound.

  Rebecca feels suddenly sick. She can taste fear in her mouth and it is bitter. Sensing her distress, Reese leans closer. “Apparently they’ve been testing these fibers since season seven,” he murmurs with a throaty voice. “At least those are the rumors circling on the internet.” His words, though intended to reassure her, make the upcoming battle sound darker and more brutal than Rebecca had anticipated.

  “What do you mean?” she asks, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “What makes you think that?”

  Reese’s expression turns serious as he glances around the room, ensuring no one is within earshot. “Season seven?” he asks, expecting Rebecca to know something she clearly doesn't. “Didn’t you hear? Half the contestants got real sick, then some of them just dropped dead. Weird as hell.” He pauses, once again looking at her as if she should already know. “They said their deaths were accidents, like eating something expired or choking on a chicken bone.” He meets her gaze, slightly concerned. She can’t decipher why; it’s not like this information matters. “But people noticed. The way they fought; something was off. They weren’t just regular people throwing punches. Now they’re kind of admitting it, if you think about it.”

  Rebecca stares at him, absorbing the implications of his words. She didn’t know any of that, she had stopped watching the show after season three. “So they’re not really testing it, they are marketing it,” she breathes, a chill settling over her spine. Reese nods. “They worked fine in season 8 and 9, I guess now they’re ready to sell it.”

  "Why didn’t people do something to prevent it?" Rebecca asks.

  Reese shrugs slightly. "Because they want to have it?" He gestures toward a lens embedded right above their heads. "I also heard the cameras—" he points at it, "they’ve got filters on us, to make us look better than we do in real life."

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  With a knot in her stomach, Rebecca turns her attention back to the screen. The two contestants are approached by spider drones that begin to loosen their bindings. Contestant 51 rubs her wrists as she prepares for combat. The camera zooms in on her face, picking up every flaw in her skin—but also the fire in her eyes.

  Her piercing scream shatters the tense silence of the common room as she lunges at her opponent, unleashing a guttural cry that reverberates off the walls. Contestant 27 stumbles backward, his increased reflexive strength kicking in with instinctual precision as he regains his balance and narrowly dodges her fierce attack. She crashes to the ground but springs back to her feet with remarkable speed. Seizing a jagged rock from the dirt, she hurls it at him, but once again, he sidesteps her assault.

  For the better part of the battle, nothing changes—she attacks, he dodges. He doesn’t fight back, doesn’t seem like the type to hurt a woman willingly. Or maybe he just hides it well. The only moment she manages to inflict pain is when her long nails rake across his skin, leaving a crimson trail on his face. Infuriated, Contestant 27 seizes her by the arms and flings her aside like a rag doll. He wipes the blood from his cheek, seemingly unfazed by the scratch. Turning to the audience, he raises his voice in a triumphant shout, gesturing wildly as Contestant 51 struggles to rise, coughing violently.

  From the crowd, a spectator hurls an object toward him; he catches it mid-air—it's a knife.

  “Oops!” Says the male host. “Looks like someone managed to contraband a weapon into the arena.”

  “Weapons aren’t allowed, people. Do we have to increase our security systems?”

  “It certainly looks like it.”

  Rebecca flinches, her stomach twisting into knots. Instinctively, she looks away, but Reese's grip on her hand tightens, refusing to let her shrink from this, to turn away from what she might one day have to face. “Don’t look away,” he tells her, giving her hand a slight shake. “You gotta get used to this. Gotta show them you’re not a coward.” His words are harsh, yet they pull her back to memories of her father—back when he taught her never to surrender, never to stop—long before he stopped talking to her.

  When Contestant 51 sees the knife, she drops to her knees, desperate, pleading for mercy. But Contestant 27 lunges forward, seizing her head from behind. With a swift motion, he slashes the knife across her jugular. Though the skin splits open, shockingly, no blood flows forth. A devilish smile spreads across her face as he stands frozen in disbelief. In a sudden burst of defiance, she drives her elbow into his crotch; he doubles over in pain.

  Acting without hesitation, she wrests the knife from his grip and instead of aiming for a fatal blow, she plunges it into his armpit. His scream pierces Rebecca’s ears.

  Contestant 27 pushes himself up on one arm but falters as agony radiates through him. Contestant 51 capitalizes on his reduced mobility, slicing behind his knees; he folds in on himself and sinks to the ground. She continues to strike again and again until his body is drenched in crimson and dirt.

  Standing over her vanquished opponent, she smiles at her hard-won victory, her chest rising and falling with short breaths. The knife drips thick dark fluid onto the ground below. Contestant 27 writhes in torment; his cries grow weaker with each passing moment as his left arm hangs at an unnatural angle, dangling by a nerve at the elbow.

  Reese's gaze is locked on the screen; there’s not a hint of repulsion as he speaks. “She’s a beast. Quick and freaking ruthless. Knows exactly how to pick them apart.”

  Rebecca dares a glance at the screen. The camera zooms in on Contestant 51’s face—so close that Rebecca can count every tooth. The woman’s eyes gleam, wide and round like golf balls, locking onto the camera’s unyielding stare. Rebecca can’t believe she’s going to spend the night in the same place as her.

  “She's relishing this," she whispers, her words nearly drowned out by Contestant 27's labored breaths, coming from the speaker overhead. "Far too much.”

  Reese nods, his jaw clenched with restraint. “They all do eventually. It’s the only way to survive in this shithole.” He pauses, his expression softening as he turns to her. “But that’s not how it’ll go for you. You’ll be alright”

  Contestant 27 goes completely still, the pool of blood beneath him already thickening, except for his right leg, which jolts suddenly. Contestant 51 raises her knife, blood trickling down her arm, poised for another potential strike. She studies him for a moment, then prods him lightly with the tip of her foot. No response.

  The male host's voice booms through the arena, declaring Contestant 51 the victor—the first of the season.

  Rebecca shuts her eyes, leaning into Reese's warmth as dread sweeps over her like a dark tide. His hand moves from hers to gently cradle her face, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek. “It’s over,” he murmurs quietly. “At least, for tonight.”

  The heavy steel door hisses open, and Contestant 51 steps in, her black hair matted with a dark, viscous substance. Her once-pristine grey jumpsuit is now splattered with remnants of the gruesome encounter. She’s met with a round of applause; some contestants rush forward to congratulate her. They shower her with praise, some even half-reaching to pat her on the back—but no one dares touch her. Their smiles twist, warping into grimaces of disgust. Most of them can’t even breathe when they stand too close.

  Basking in the attention, the victor allows herself a small, proud smile as she dives into the crowd of admirers. Rebecca turns to Reese as soon as she notices him shift in his seat.

  He rises gracefully, the tension on his face melting into his usual charming smile. “I should go congratulate her,” he explains. “Play along, Becca. It’s safer that way.”

  He strides toward Contestant 51 in one fluid movement, flashing a warm smile and uttering honeyed words just loud enough for nearby contestants to catch. Rebecca watches him with a tumultuous mix of admiration and resentment. He plays the game like everyone else—and he enjoys it just as much as Contestant 51 enjoyed bleeding Contestant 27 to death.

  Rebecca understands the necessity of his performance; he has an image to uphold, a role to fulfill. But now that the battle is done and they've secured another 24 hours of life, all the questions that tormented her before the fight resurface.