Serial Escalation

by Sean E. Britten

  “Get back!” Layla said.

  Layla came around the corner at an all-out sprint. She carried her G36 in her right hand, left arm whirring with motion. Raptor twisted between the two of them, from Thao to Layla.

  “Cacaw! Kill-, you!” Raptor said.

  Rather than shoot, Layla closed the distance between them while drawing her left hand back. With servos hissing, Layla punched Raptor in the chest like a sledgehammer and drove her fist right through his body armour and into his ribcage. Bones shattered and blood exploded from the impact. Fist embedded up to the wrist in his chest, Layla lifted Raptor off his feet. Gore poured down the front of his clothing to the space between his legs and Raptor spasmed like a worm being pushed onto a hook.

  “Layla, look out!” Thao said.

  Raptor lashed out, slashing at Layla with his two gauntlet-blades. Even with his chest demolished and heart destroyed, bleeding heavily, Raptor had enough life left in him for one last attack. The two blades sliced into Layla’s face. One notched the top of her ear and cut across her cheek while the other cut through her forehead and eyebrow. Blood beaded through the thin lines and ran down the side of Layla’s face as she jerked back just in time to stop the injury from being far worse. Grunting, Layla wheeled around and tossed Raptor across the street with her mechanical arm. Gore clotted across Layla’s left hand. There was a gaping hole in Raptor’s chest, a crater that wafted steam in the grey semi-twilight around exposed stubs of broken ribs. The man tried to gather himself back up but went limp and finally collapsed. Layla daubed at the bloody slashes in her face.

  “Shit, what was in that bracelet?” Layla said, “That was stupid, I didn’t think-, forget it, let’s just go.”

  Chapter Five.

  A sturdy, dark-haired woman wearing a hardhat and overalls is working on a panel in a tunnel full of piping and grates. She turns and gives a thumbs-up.

  “I’m growing something!” She says.

  A large doughy man looks up over a desk strewn with papers, looking flustered with the workload but happy and satisfied. He also gives a thumbs-up.

  “I’m growing something!” He says.

  Another group of colonists gather in the waist-high water under thick floor grating in hard hats and overalls. The water ripples around them. In unison, they give the thumbs-up.

  “We’re growing something, too!” They say.

  “The Hadley’s Hope colony on LV-426 is really growing something, and they’re just bursting to show it to you! Have you considered a change of career in the off-world colonies?”

  A young girl with washed out, blonde hair strokes a headless doll. She smiles with a gap-toothed grin.

  “They mostly cover dental and elective medical procedures. Mostly.” She says.

  “An initiative of Weyland-Yutani. Weyland-Yutani, Building Better Worlds.”

  The control room in the arena’s central building was a hive of frantic activity now that Slayerz was underway. The primary broadcast was splashed across the huge screen at the head of the room. Feeds from drones and dozens of cameras surrounded the main screen. Technicians in white uniforms filled the workstations, speaking animatedly into their mics and tapping away at the keys in front of them.

  Glowing dimly, the hologram of the Slayerz arena in the middle of the control room was now activated. The miniature skyscrapers were almost solid but still slightly see-through. Created in real-time from circling satellites the hologram was detailed down to ripples of water in the central lake and the rubble in the streets. Hovering markers displayed where the teams were moving. On the nearest side, the holographic arena was cluttered with skyscrapers, some of them half-collapsed and jutting up like spikes. On the far side, where the fight between Thao and Layla, and Pardee and Rawlins had just taken place, there were still some office buildings but they were lower and more spread out. The teams were moving away from the lake and becoming scattered across the arena. Roland Smith was standing at the head of the room, watching the broadcast. The blonde host who had introduced the game sidled up to him, perked up like a star pupil.

  “This is already shaping up to be a fast game, don’t you think, sir?” The blonde woman said, “The great white sharks were a bold move, amazing really. I was worried half the contestants were going to end up as fish food but-, it was brilliant television.”

  Head and shoulders taller than the young woman, Roland smiled thinly as he turned his attention away from the main screen. Mirabella Fong, Slayerz’s previous host, had quit after nearly being killed by a contestant named Dali Dawson when he’d taken the control room and a group of PETP protesters hostage last season.

  “Fortunately, we have a couple of surprises in store for the end game, a little bit bigger than the sharks. That should keep the game interesting, don’t you think?” Roland said.

  The broadcast was running some highlights from Raptor Rawlins and Donna Pardee’s short time in the arena. On the main screen, Pardee was paddling hard to get out of the water where they’d been originally dumped, straining under the weight of her machine gun. Another fifteen-foot monster shark snaked through the water toward them. Raptor doubled back, twin blades shooting from the gauntlet around his right forearm. The shark darted toward the man’s legs, jaws unhinged. Twisting out of the creature’s path, Raptor bounced off the shark’s side and dove even lower. Getting under the great white shark, Raptor rammed his blades into the animal’s throat and carved into its belly. Blood clouded the water in thick streamers as the shark thrashed, trying to get away, but it had already been fatally wounded. Yanking the blades loose, Raptor got clear before the animal turned him to mincemeat.

  “Open up a game near Southpaw Jackson and this-, Thao Seong.” Roland said, “I want to see what they’re willing to do.”

  One of the technicians signalled Roland, “Blight and Wing Chun, they’re closing in on another team.” They said.

  xXx

  Billy Blight marched through the ravaged street with his holographic hair flickering bright yellow, water still running off his face and his spiked leather jacket. He carried the ornate but futuristic battle-axe he’d been given at the start of the game. His partner, Wing Chun, followed close behind him with a stubby submachine gun. Blight spoke constantly, as if building a repartee with his partner right from the starting line. The fact that Wing was deaf and mute hadn’t slowed Blight down.

  “Brother, for me it was never about the music.” Blight said, “But you know, it had the sex and the drugs and I thought-, why not? I could do some of that fookin’ rock and roll bit. I don’t give nothing of a shite about politics neither but you want to do punk you got to do some political shite. Kill ‘em all, let him on high sort them out, that’s my political affiliation, boyo. But you spark off one wee riot and-, well, so much for freedom of expression, ey?”

  Since Blight rarely turned his head, Wing Chun couldn’t read his lips and had no idea what he was saying. Their twin camera drones bobbed along behind them. The holographic fibres woven into Blight’s scalp shifted from yellow to green, moving like flames. The maps on the two men’s wrists showed them close to Ursula Paxton and her maimed companion, Dogboy. They were looking for a building to lie low in but Blight didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He turned up his nose at most of the ruined buildings around the arena’s central lake. Suddenly, Blight turned back to his partner and gestured for him to get down.

  “Oi, something up ahead.” Blight said, “Keep your shooter up and your mouth shut, ey? You chatty fucker.”

  Overlooking a sunken roadway, covered in dark water, Ursula Paxton was looking away as Blight and Wing approached. She was stripped to the waist and wringing out her top. Her dark hair was still wet and draped across her naked shoulders. Blight didn’t see a weapon as he snuck closer. Suddenly, Ursula turned in seeming surprise.

  “Oh! Oh, it’s you, you scared me.” Ursula said, “Oh, God, please! Don’t kill me!”

  “Kind of the name of the game ain’t it, sweetheart?” Blight said.
<
br />   Blight hefted his large axe. Wing Chun stayed behind him, the hulking mute leering with an oily grin. Ursula arched her back, fluttering her eyes as she mentally turned her implanted pheromone producers into full overload. Her heaving breasts were covered in a spray of freckles.

  "I know, but-, would it help if I told you I was always a huge fan of yours? Yeah, when you played Philadelphia I tried to get backstage so I could meet you. But you know what those security guards are like-, and this one was on some kind of supplements that just made it take forever.” She said, “Maybe I could make up for lost time now? You know, since I’m going to die in here anyway.”

  Blight walked over to the half-naked woman and loomed, his axe tossed back against his shoulder. Holographic hair burning, his eyes tracked up and down Ursula’s half-naked body. Pouting, Ursula gave him an innocent look.

  “Just how stupid do you think I am, girlie?” Blight said.

  “Stupid enough to forget the rules of the game I guess.” Ursula said, “I mean, it’s teams of two, right? Two.”

  Ursula’s partner Dogboy came up quietly behind Wing Chun, sneaking around a pile of rubble. His old-fashioned Tommy gun was hanging off a strap on his side. Tall and hulking, the ex-soldier known as Dogboy didn’t have a muscular build but was simply big, with long limbs and huge hands. His name came from his face which had been maimed by shrapnel. What remained of his nose looked upturned like a snout. A web of scar tissue crossing his features made his eyes look sunken and his cheeks look like jowls. His ears were bent and upper lip split through the middle, giving him a doglike appearance.

  The deaf-mute Wing Chun couldn’t hear Dogboy’s approach and was too busy staring at Ursula’s chest to notice the movement behind him. One of Dogboy’s big hands closed around the back of Wing’s neck. Before Wing could react, the other hand grabbed him by the forehead and Dogboy pulled him down and backward, twisting. Wrenching around, Dogboy broke the man’s neck, and the flesh and muscle only barely muffled the sickening crunch. Weighed down by his heavy body armour, Wing Chun hung limply from Dogboy’s grip and let out a wet gurgle.

  “Oh, that is bullshite! No fookin’ way am I supposed to go out so early!” Blight yelled.

  Blight’s hair turned a blazing white colour in surprise. He moved toward Dogboy with his fists tightening around his battle-axe. It took a few moments for Wing to die so the kill switch hadn’t triggered right away.

  Ursula snatched at her weapon, which she had hidden behind a pile of rubble, and pulled it on quickly. The exotic weaponised glove she’d been given at the beginning of the game had long, sharp needles emerging from its fingers. The glove looked like interlocking plates of brass covering a flexible, black mesh. Clear tubes, like syringes, ran over Ursula’s knuckles and across the back of her hand, filled with a yellowish liquid. As Blight had his back turned, Ursula rammed the needles of her glove into his spine. The needles drilled through Blight’s body armour and the syringes pumped.

  Blight let out an angry bellow, thrashing, and tried to spin around on Ursula. She moved around him, still not bothering to cover her chest, and leapt back as Blight’s battle-axe swung in a wide circle. Ursula withdrew and Blight staggered sideways on the uneven ground. Moments later, Wing Chun expired and Blight’s kill switch started to wail. As soon as the other drugs entered his system Blight shook off the effects of Ursula’s anaesthesia.

  “Oh, you fookin’ twats!” Blight spasmed, “I’m going to fookin’ end the both of you!”

  Blight’s holographic head of fire turned a deep blood red. Cocking his battle-axe back to his shoulder, Blight hurled the weapon at Dogboy. The big man was still holding Wing’s body and he moved it in front of him like a shield. The axe buried itself in Wing’s chest, ribs snapping with the impact. Dogboy let the body drop and reached for his Thompson submachine gun. Meanwhile, Ursula moved around the enraged man and lashed out with her glove. She tried getting the needles in Blight’s eyes and scratched up his face instead. Blight was fast as well as strong and backhanded Ursula across the jaw. She tumbled over some of the wreckage, trying to avoid impaling herself on her glove.

  “Guess it’s a rock star death for me after all then, ey?” Blight said, “Live fast, die young, leave a fookin’ fantastic-looking, sexy as shite corpse!”

  Spittle poured down Blight’s chin, hair blazing, as his hands shook violently. He knelt over Ursula and wrapped his hands around her throat. She gagged, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

  Dogboy shouldered his heavy Thompson submachine gun, hands wrapped around the wood furnishings, and opened fire. Powerful .45 slugs thundered out of the gun. Even with Blight’s body armour they ripped into the man’s back as he attacked Ursula. One bullet tore a groove through Blight’s scalp. It created a bloody crevasse through his holographic hair and flickering fibres fluttered through the air as a red line dribbled down Blight’s face. He grimaced but didn’t let up on Ursula.

  “Oh, I’m not going out without you, bitches.” Blight said.

  The blows distracted Blight just enough for Ursula to get her arm free. Lifting her weaponised glove, Ursula hammered two fingers into Blight’s eyes. The syringes hissed as the needles penetrated the singer’s brain and Blight let out a choked howl. Ursula grabbed him by the neck with her other hand. Levering with both arms she threw Blight to the side. A thick bruise had already broken out around Ursula’s throat and she coughed, gagging, and yanked her glove out of Blight’s eye sockets.

  Blinded, Blight thrashed around and snatched at the air. The yellowish fluid from the syringes attached to Ursula’s glove leaked out of the man’s ruined eye sockets. With his old fashioned submachine gun still pressed again his shoulder, Dogboy rushed over and squeezed off another short, thundering burst. Bullets ripped through Blight’s face and nearly separated Blight’s heads from his shoulders, spraying blood and brains across the ground. Ursula stood up next to the body, rubbing her throat.

  “Guess I’m not so sorry I missed out on that backstage pass after all.” Ursula said.

  xXx

  Across the arena, the team of Drake Mooney and Billy-Bob Boomer had come up on the other side of the central lake near a beached cargo ship. The huge, rusty ship had been washed inland during the quake ten years ago. Lying at a tilt across a couple of broken intersections, there were buildings and scores of cars crushed underneath the vessel. A dozen shipping containers had spilled off the sides and littered the shoreline, sinking into the rubble.

  Metal walls creaked around Mooney and Billy-Bob. When they had come aboard the men had run across a couple of booby traps but they had managed to disable them easily enough. The tilt of the beached ship made the floors and doorways crooked. In roughly the centre of the ship, Mooney and Billy-Bob were lying low in the ship’s cafeteria. A couple of glow sticks were propped up on the slanted table between them. The men had found some canned food in the ship’s galley, left there since the earthquake, but it seemed fine. Billy-Bob scraped at one of the cans with a fork. Their guns were close at hand as they kept their eyes on the doorways.

  “Map update should be coming through any second now.” Mooney said.

  “You should eat some of this, like what they tell you in the army, don’t never turn down a free meal.” Billy-Bob said.

  Billy-Bob Boomer was a big man, wearing military fatigues and blue overalls over body armour along with a red, white and blue trucker cap. A pulse cannon was resting on the seat beside him, a large and tan, oval-shaped weapon with a gaping muzzle on one end and an opening on the other. The gun’s hilt and trigger were inside the opening.

  “We should have left some of those traps set up, so Harper would have to go through them to get to us.” Mooney said.

  Mooney looked around nervously. His blue sleeves were rolled up over his wiry forearms, covered in splotchy tattoos. He had a sharp, wolfish face with dark hair and a short, bristly beard. A more conventional assault rifle was propped against the table beside him.

  The former Sl
ayerz champion, Church Harper, and his partner had come out of the lake near Mooney and Billy-Bob. Both remembered the way Church operated from his earlier season on the show, where he’d taken out almost half the other teams personally to win. They were positive the former champ would be coming for them, no matter where they were.

  Billy-Bob Boomer was an enforcer for the hillbilly mafia in Kentucky. Moonshiners and meth dealers, the Boomer clan had ruled the hills for hundreds of years with an iron fist. Even those roots couldn’t save Billy-Bob though when he got drunk after killing a rival dealer and paraded the man’s body through town mounted on the hood of his truck like a dead deer. Since the state police had him red-handed for the murder and for desecration of a corpse, Billy-Bob had confessed to a few dozen other unsolved crimes for the good of the clan and got locked up on multiple life sentences. Drake Mooney, in comparison, was a city slicker. His neatly trimmed beard and perfectly coiffed hair belied a cold-blooded sociopath who’d gassed an entire art gallery with toxins as part of a failed heist.

  The map bleeped and updated, first playing a highlight reel of Thao and Layla’s fight with Raptor and Donna Pardee. Mooney exited out of it and quickly studied the map.

  “Oh, shit! Shit, its Church Harper, he’s on the boat.” Mooney said.

  The map showed him the dark, angular shape of the cargo ship but didn’t give them any more detail than that. Mooney zoomed in. At closest resolution, he could see his and Billy-Bob’s dots still overlapping around the middle of the ship. Across the boat was another dot, marked with Church Harper’s name and profile. It listed him as a former winner of the game as well as a psychotic vigilante.