Ten Sigma

by A W Wang

The tallest one, peeking above the tops of the others, yells in a deep voice, “Wow. I’ve never seen anything that sweet. I can’t wait to get into her.”

  Instantly, Syd leaps to his feet and wades into the crowd. Bodies tumble amid loud smacks and yelps of pain while those lucky enough to escape cower from his wrath. Syd is far more powerful than the last time we met.

  His voice rises over the terror. “This one is mine. We’ll use her body for the ritual, and everyone will have a taste. But, any sex is for my pleasure alone. Understood?”

  Belle pushes to a knee and rubbing her cheek says, “She betrayed us and wanted to send us back to zero.”

  “And she’ll suffer,” Syd replies. Then jabbing his finger at my privates, he says loudly, “Everyone remember, this is mine.”

  There are fearful nods and murmurs of acquiescence.

  Erect from the violence and thoughts of sex, a gleeful Syd returns and lies on top of me, rubbing his body over my squirming torso. Past his heavy breaths and adding to my shame and humiliation are blood-painted faces gawking in anticipation of the act.

  Desperately, I twist, grimacing from the pain radiating out of my ribs, but without the use of arms or legs, my struggles are useless.

  Syd jams his head down and sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

  A throttled scream leaves my throat.

  As he rises, his blood-coated lips widen into satisfied smile.

  I can only tremble and fight away tears while he adjusts himself to complete what was started in the museum so long ago.

  “Hey, Syd,” Suri says.

  Heads swivel toward her voice.

  One of her hands is free and holds a dagger. Helplessly, I watch as she draws it across her neck, splattering a torrent of red over the beige sand. Her eyes dim as she collapses.

  My last friend is gone.

  Syd screams, grabbing my throat and raising his dagger.

  My mouth opens in horror as the blade comes impossibly fast toward my face.

  A millimeter from my eye, it freezes.

  Static wraps around me, and Syd’s demonic countenance vanishes.

  Forty-Seven

  As the static tingle dissipates, I shiver. Squeezing my eyes shut and tensing my now healthy limbs, I push a scream through my anger and grief. When it finishes, I grit my teeth and examine my surroundings.

  It’s not the citrus and honey scented ready room. A dank and oppressive atmosphere drapes over me. Stacked rows of flattish gray stones with sharp edges climb to create high, looming walls. At the top of the square space, narrow slats of light stab through elongated openings and form a misty halo under a reinforced stone ceiling. A singular door made from thick iron bars wrapped over stout planks of wood provides the only means of entry.

  I’m in a dungeon and naked.

  Feeling small and wishing for even the tiny covering of the usual sanctuary outfit, I draw my legs into my chest and wrap my arms around them, struggling to control the residual shivers running over my body.

  The attempt to save Suri was a hasty decision, although it was the only one I could have chosen under the extreme circumstances. Given another chance, I would do it again. It’s the first time I’ve been truly alive since the destruction of my past.

  But now she’s gone, betrayed by Walt, whom we both have saved many times. I should have known he couldn’t stomach going back to level zero.

  Syd will reach ten sigmas while I…

  I don’t know what my fate will be, but the price I’m going to pay for saving my humanity will be on the worse side of bad. I don’t care. Suri, my best friend in this horrible universe, is gone. Walt is dead to me. Everyone from my prior life is long forgotten. I’m completely alone.

  All while evil such as Syd marches forward.

  What can they do to make anything worse?

  A pop reverberates across the cell. An agitated Haiku floats above me with her tiny hands waving in front of her chest and her dirty feet shaking. “You cannot physically assist the other team under any circumstances.”

  “You never said we couldn’t.”

  “It’s common sense, and you purposefully killed one of your teammates. There’s no way I can help you.” The impassioned words sound strangely human.

  “Screw it. I made my decision. I don’t need your help.”

  “Please understand. If it was my judgment, you would receive no punishment. But the others are furious. Uncontrollably so.”

  I return a defiant shrug.

  Her lips part in terror, then wide-eyed, she glances at the door and shrieks, “Oh, why did you have to go where you shouldn’t have?”

  Despite my exterior bravado, I chew on the tip of my thumbnail.

  Although I’m not in a scenario, my neck tingles in warning. While I’m used to the weird mood swings of the little avatar, the raw fear emanating from her is infectious.

  There is a rumble, and dust falls from heavy thuds shaking the walls. The hinges of the door rattle.

  I suck in a fearful breath.

  Haiku trembles. “No. No!” she screams and disappears.

  The sharp edges of the freezing stones dig into my back as I press against the wall, struggling to escape what’s coming.

  Metal groans as the door blasts outward. The bald giant, constantly in my thoughts but absent since “Acid Island,” fills the open frame.

  Bare feet scraping against the dirt floor, I try to push myself through the unyielding stones while my eyes wildly search for a place to hide in the confined space.

  The naked man enters and closes the door with an ominous thud. When he steps forward, I fire my heel at his knee. Leaning over, he slaps it aside. With a massive hand grabbing a fistful of hair, he lifts me to my toes.

  I punch his chest and head with no effects.

  A fist blasts into my diaphragm.

  The air pours from my lungs as I raise my arms to protect myself.

  An uppercut smashes my nose and jerks my head upright, my eyes rolling into their sockets. Blood dribbles down my chin as he lets go of my hair and slams me into the wall. The razor edges cut my shoulder blades while a pain-filled whimper leaves my mouth.

  I counter by launching a weak hook into his jaw, which does more harm to my knuckles than his face.

  Another blow from a meaty fist cracks a few of my ribs.

  The ground rises as I crumble to my knees.

  He kicks me in the head and the world goes black.

  Forty-Eight

  White mists swirl in vastness.

  My mind journeys through an infinite space as my substance ripples from the movements of giant beings. I feel funny because my hazy body has no heart and my lungs can’t gather any air. There is only numbness. Blessed numbness.

  You shouldn’t be here. There will be repercussions.

  My swollen eyelids crack open, and through the crusted slits, I find everything in my reality is the same. The same layered walls with razor edges, the same dull halo of sunlight, and the same discolored, bloodied body sending screams of misery into my brain. My life has morphed into a continuous existence of torture.

  There have been five beatings during this never-ending time. I think. With no healthy restoration of my being after each visitation from the bald giant, the wounds have accumulated into a mass of throbbing agony interspersed by spikes of intense pain.

  Strangely, it’s been a mechanical brutality. Excruciating to be sure but lacking any artistry or personal touch. My tormentor is no Syd in terms of sadistic imagination.

  And like everything else outside of the blue liquid portion of the virtual universe, nothing concerns sex. Although my brutal antagonist has grabbed and punched and kicked my private areas, there has never been a threat of rape amid the violence.

  I wonder if that would be better, then I dismiss the awful notion. Not worrying about being violated is a good thing.

  When I shift, fiery waves of suffering from my fractured right forearm and left leg cause a sob to slip through my cracked lips. Aft
er the torment subsides, I search across the gigantic bruises and broken bones of my damaged body for something still working. To my chagrin, only my terror remains intact. It’s irrational: I should be used to the poundings, yet every time I think of the bald giant, my panicky feelings swamp any rational thought.

  I open my broken jaw with an unsettling crack. Whimpering through the pain, I push the fingers of my good arm across my teeth and yank out a loose molar.

  As I wince, blood leaks onto my tongue. Horrible thoughts of murder inject a sliver of happiness into the agony filling my mind. A rush of energy consumes me.

  Amazingly, my single foray into the blue liquid’s dark side persists. Like the dozen other times blood has seeped onto my taste buds during the beatings, I force the euphoria away. The virtual overlords can’t make me enjoy the madness of killing. No matter what, I’m keeping a shred of my humanity.

  I squeeze my fingers and crush the bloody tooth.

  I’m going to die.

  Rather than the resignation comforting me, I search for a way out of the predicament. I’m trapped and wounded, my body working at a shadow of my normal abilities. That’s a far cry from the giant, who is always stronger, faster, perfectly healthy, and meaner. A lot meaner. While I would never beat a helpless prisoner, my fear only seems to stoke his sadism.

  Ominous footsteps shake the room. Dust falls onto my shoulders.

  Against every bit of my pride and training, my heart thumps wildly as my terror rises. It’s starting again.

  The iron and wood barrier swings open, and the bulging muscles of the bald giant fill the opening. Instead of striding into the cell and pummeling me, he pauses with a grin, admiring his handiwork.

  Rage overcomes fear. I won’t be bullied. Ignoring the pain in my fractured leg, other broken bones, and bruised tissues, I push myself off the floor.

  I’m barely upright when he steps into the dungeon, the door slamming behind him. I flail at his head as he grabs my hair and crashes his fist into my damaged ribs. There is a nauseating crunch as bone splinters shred my internal organs.

  Doubling over, I gasp from the fresh agony.

  Instead of proceeding with blows to my battered body, he jams me against the sharp rock, which gouges more cuts over the exposed meat in my shoulders.

  A cry leaves my lips.

  His meaty fingers wrap around my throat and squeeze.

  As my breaths shorten, my eyes expand. This time, he’s going to kill me.

  I don’t want to die.

  Whiny thoughts won’t prevent anything. Forcing my broken right arm into action, I bring up my hands to break his grip.

  The helpless effort brings a smile to his face.

  Blackness creeps from the edges of my vision. I thrash in panic, trying to loosen my throat from his grasp. His beady eyes fill my tunneling sight while his grunting exaltations flow into my nostrils. My lungs scream for oxygen with each tightening of his death grip as my mind threatens to slip into unconsciousness.

  The cell rumbles from his booming laughter.

  It’s finished. My eyes flutter while my muscles weaken.

  I clench my broken jaw in a final effort to cling to life, wincing from the pain.

  More blood leaks from the hole in my gums. I try to spit the foulness away, but only a wheezing breath sputters from my mouth. Then my lungs spasm and a cough leaves my throat, spilling a wash of blood over my tongue.

  Images of murder and torture appear. Without any energy to restrain them, they march into my mind and release the lingering emotions of the blue liquid. While malevolence fills my thoughts, my pain shockingly lessens even as a newfound strength floods through my body.

  A fresh goal consumes me. Although I’m dying, the bald giant is going to be my companion on the journey to hell. If it’s the last thing I do, and the only worthwhile thing I accomplish in this crappy virtual existence, this thing’s life will end. While my real world memories have vanished, I intuitively know I’ve never desired anything more than killing this one horrible creature in front of me.

  I wouldn’t trade this opportunity for anything.

  My eyes pop open, and I offer my mortal nemesis a bloody smile.

  The giant hesitates.

  With my good hand, I launch a left hook into his jaw.

  It bounces off, and he chuckles as his hands return to squeezing the life out of me.

  After another worthless punch, I hunt through my dizziness for a different solution. Since my nemesis is impervious to blunt force, I need a weapon. Something pointy or sharp. My eyes wildly roam the confines of the cell. Only the edges of the stones are available, but I lack the strength to impale him on the wall. Besides that, there is nothing.

  When I try to bite his wrists, he’s waiting for it.

  His fist plows into my mouth, shredding my lips and knocking out my front teeth. More wonderful blood washes over my tongue.

  A single lucid thought enters my mind.

  Walt.

  The teen is the worst fighter I’ve known, but he won “Acid Island,” by using the protruding bone from a torn off limb.

  No body parts lie around the cell, but in my deranged state, that’s not a problem. My right arm has plenty of bones, including one that’s already broken.

  I slam it against the wall. Pain, greater than anything I’ve ever imagined, resonates from the self-inflicted wound. Embracing the torment, I hit the sharp stones harder with my fist. The broken bone shatters and bulges from under my skin.

  Although my hand dangles at an odd angle, I strike again and again, until the craziness works. Through the agony, I gurgle with delight when a splintered edge pops into sight.

  The giant freezes from my sudden insanity.

  I swipe the pointy protrusion at his neck and when it draws blood, a throttled scream of joy infused with exquisite layers of derangement leaves my shredded lips.

  His mouth falls open from shock.

  Before he reacts further, I jab under his jaw and into the carotid artery.

  Beautiful, glorious red blood spurts over my shattered arm.

  Through my wheezing breaths, I chuckle.

  Fear seeps into his eyes, and as he trembles, his fingers weaken their death grip.

  My lungs struggle to fill themselves. Despite the lessening pressure, only whistles of precious oxygen scorch through my battered windpipe. But it gives me enough energy to fire a couple more jabs into his neck.

  Stunned, the bald giant grabs his fresh wounds in a hopeless effort to staunch the torrents of blood. His massive legs wobble as his strength ebbs. A second later, he crashes to the floor with a monstrous thump.

  Without his hands propping up my body, I fall too, slamming onto my knees and good arm as I give a hollow cry of relief.

  While the red of his life fluid leaks through his fingers and spills over his hands, the bald giant bellows in fear.

  Although experiencing more pain than I’ve ever endured in any scenario, I cackle. His discomfort is hilarious. For a moment, my remaining splinter of humanity wonders if I’m going insane. Then it evaporates, and I bellow with laughter, embracing my psychotic state. Shattering an arm to use the sharp end of a compound fracture as a weapon is the grandest thing I’ve ever done. I bring the gory tip to my lips and lick it. The combined taste of our blood is amazing.

  An expression of horror explodes over his brutish face.

  A guffaw leaves my mouth as heat rushes into my private areas.

  While my thighs twitch to increase the pleasurable sensation, I ignore the lewd distraction.

  Murder is so much better than sex.

  The delicious notion widens my shredded lips into a malicious grin.

  Pale and frightened, my victim scuttles backward, pinning himself into a corner.

  My shattered arm dangles as I pursue with a three-legged crawl, thrilled to be a participant in the Ten Sigma Program.

  How could anyone not want to be a part of this?

  Pausing, I laugh. The fleeting thou
ght is the whole answer to “What will you do?”

  His whimpers draw me back to my happy task, and when I reach him, he’s fading from the loss of blood, but his eyes are wide in terror.

  Good.

  I rise above him, drawing back my non-fractured arm.

  “Don’t,” he says.

  Besides my bloodthirsty rage, the dizziness from my wounds is causing me to process things at a glacial pace. A moment lapses before I comprehend he has spoken a plea for mercy. I hesitate. Then I reply with the only response making sense to my demented mind.

  “Fuck you!”

  I blast my fist into his face.

  The jolt sends a shiver of pleasure up my arm and into my being.

  He whimpers, and I drive another punch into his nose.

  The crunch of cartilage fills my thoughts with the joy of murder.

  His cowering fuels my hate, and as I launch my fist again and again, my focus narrows, tunneling around the sparks of glee erupting in my mind. More laughter pours from my insanity as my muscles quake with hysteria.

  When his two front teeth come loose, a rush of desire strikes between my legs. I squirm, adjusting my knees to maximize the spreading waves of euphoria.

  My breaths grow ragged and my body writhes as each delivered blow adds a layer of heat to the warmth engulfing me, my mind helplessly spiraling into the abyss of pleasure.

  Suddenly, an orgasm flashes from my sex, popping like fireworks and sending pure ecstasy through my damaged tissues. When the wonderfulness erupts past my throat, I shriek with delight.

  Blissful moments pass, and then I slowly wander back from the depths of the amazing experience, basking in the after-climax glow, my muscles quivering in elation.

  The bald giant twitches, his face a reddish pulp of broken bones, mashed tissue, and torn skin. Most of his blood lies pooled around my knees.

  When his jerky movements stop, I lean forward and lick the gore dripping over his body. The wonderful flavor infuses me with a craving for more. Baring my teeth, I dip my face to his chest, but before I can do anything, the electric tingles wrap over me.

  As the dungeon disappears, my wrath-filled howls echo to the faint halo of sunlight obscuring the ceiling.