[00] The Control Room

[DA 2009]

Lawrence swallowed hard as he presented his security badge to the burly, black-shirted guard. This place was giving him the creeps already, and he hadn’t even started the job yet. The guard scrutinized the photograph on the plastic card before doing a comparison. After a moment, he grunted and jerked his head towards the door, signaling approval for entry. Lawrence shrugged his tool bag tighter against his body and walked on through. Although the better part of his conscious screamed at him to just stare at his feet until he got to the room, the worker couldn’t help but glance around. He couldn’t recall seeing more organized chaos in his life, and wondered how in the world everyone else buzzed around like there weren’t armed guards or security cameras zeroing in on their every move. Something didn’t feel quite right about all this, but he was being paid a lot of money to be here.

A line of men and women in white coats and black-and-white checkered pants walked by, toting small cylindrical bags at their sides. By their apparel, Lawrence figured them for chefs. He might have chuckled if he weren’t so nervous, wondering if it was the guards who needed the fancy catering.

“Are you Mr. Scott?” someone asked suddenly.

Lawrence nearly jumped out of his skin. “Y-yes,” he stammered. The one who startled him was a man in a gray uniform, holding a clipboard and pen. The worker stole a glance at his name badge; it read “Victor Lewis.”

“Follow me, please.”

The nervous worker nodded obediently and shuffled along, not daring to allow himself any more distractions. They eventually came upon a large room, dark at first. The uniformed man flipped on a switch, and several bars of fluorescent lighting flickered to life along the ceiling. Numerous big gray sheets covered giant, bulky masses that lined each one of the walls.

“So…what is it you want me to fix?” Lawrence asked.

“We’re having some connectivity problems. Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure,” Victor replied.

“Can you show me?”

The uniformed man nodded, and motioned for Lawrence to follow as he approached one of the sheets and pulled it away. He opened a hatch, and much to Lawrence’s horror, a body came tumbling out. He let out a loud gasp and instantly backed away.

“Sorry about that,” Victor said. “The janitor forgot to empty them.”

Lawrence couldn’t figure out which was worse: the fact that there was a dead body on the floor, or the fact that the employee was so nonchalant about it even being there in the first place. He covered his mouth, trying to mask his discomfort, which became even harder after he realized Victor had mentioned the word ‘them,’ as in, plural. Victor dragged the body away from the machine and rolled it over, flopping it down so it faced towards them. Open eyes bulged from the sockets, frozen in a lifeless stare.

“I’ll have someone come and pick him up,” the employee assured.

“Uh…could you…could you, uh,” Lawrence stuttered, choking back a lump in his throat and pointing a trembling hand at the corpse.

“Oh! Yeah, sure,” Victor caught on, as if it hadn’t been obvious before. He rotated the lifeless mass to the other side, so the disturbing gaze transfixed in the opposite direction. Without missing a beat, he stood up and pointed to a component within the machine, explaining a complex and bizarre problem.

“Do you have the schematics?”

Victor produced them from his clipboard, which had been set aside.

Lawrence reviewed the general layout, more than wishing he hadn’t accepted the offer to be an outside contractor for the Syntex Corporation.

“Do you have everything you need?”

Lawrence nodded weakly.

“Excellent. Should you require anything else, let me know. It’s very important for you to do a good job. Please begin,” Victor smiled. He pulled a walkie from his belt. “Commencing repairs.”

“Roger that,” crackled the reply.

Victor walked towards the heavy metal door, shutting it and locking it from the inside. Lawrence looked up, a mixture of surprise and fear etched along his already pale features. Victor stood in front of the only way in or out, unholstering his firearm and charging the ki clip within it. An unmistakable, heart-hammering humming noise filled the air as it did so. With a pistol in his grip, he calmly folded his hands together in front of him, giving Mr. Scott an eerie smile.

Lawrence fought back the urge to sob.

[DA 2009]

Time quickly ticked down, until finally the buzz of chaos eventually dissipated as the preparations were completed. The guards lining the hallways all froze in place as a single, solitary figure walked along the complex, scrutinizing every last inch with cold gray eyes. He held his body perfectly erect, poised and balanced. Even the lumbering juggernauts that security was comprised of shot furtive, nervous glances in the man’s direction. Eventually, the man came to a large door. Without even the need for him to make a motion, it automatically opened with a receptive hiss.

“Is everything going according to plan, Audric?” the man asked coolly, assuming a position in a comfortable chair at the center of a large screen display.

Audric spun around in a swivel chair located in front of an expansive control console. He was a small man, and not even a man, really. His hair spiked up from his head in flaming red spokes, barely hiding the pointed ears jutting from his skull. A blue computer visor covered his emerald green eyes, tapering down into wrap-around headgear ending in a microphone. Audric was as “hooked up” as you could get.

“Repairs are nearly completed. All that’s left is a live test,” Audric confirmed.

“And will we be ready in time?”

Audric paused a moment, mulling over his answer, and nodded. “Yeah, we should be. I mean, we’re basically as ready as we’re going to be.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” The tone, this time, carried a subtle yet dangerous undercurrent. “Nothing must go wrong.”

“I’ve got it under control. Trust me. It’s why you pay me the big zeni, remember?” Audric chuckled, having grown immune to threats by now.

The nameless man reached out his left hand towards a small table next to the chair. A small, square piece of paper sat waiting within reach. He gingerly touched the surface, fingers grazing gently along the smoothness of the pulp, feeling the gold embossing and slowly tracing each letter formation.

“Send out the invitations,” came the order softly.

“You got it,” Audric grinned mischievously. He spun around, summoning one of his dormant terminals from sleep mode. After a few lightning-quick keystrokes, the technical supervisor pulled up a profile program. His middle finger jammed over a single key as he scrolled through the various collections of pictures and data. He skimmed through them, the features blurring together as a he ensured with cursory glances that each one was present and accounted for: a man with blond hair, a girl with pink hair, a saiyan here, a saiyan there, a ferocious-looking namekian, a boy with orange hair…he stopped being able to tell the difference. After all, they were only being used for one thing anyway.

Once the addresses loaded, another sequence of keystrokes commenced, and the invitations were green-lit. All were engraved on paper, a bit old-fashioned in today’s technological age, and each one carried a handwritten signature. The nameless man felt that his choice of style added a more personal touch. Not all of them said the same thing, of course. Each was individualized to its recipient, allowing for more…persuasion.

The man raised his hand and snapped his fingers. As if by magic, an attendant entered the room with a bottle of chilled red wine and a clean burgundy glass. The wine was poured and the glass set carefully into the man’s awaiting hand. He swirled it around nonchalantly before taking a sip, allowing it to direct onto the tip of his tongue.

“Let them come,” he whispered.

Content to simply observe the display screen before him, he set the wine glass down on the table next to the invitation. It read:

“You are cordially invited to the 2009 tournament of Dante’s Abyss. You have been selected out of thousands of potentials to participate in this reputable annual event, sponsored by the Syntex Corporation. This challenging yet exciting opportunity will afford you a chance at honor, glory, and wealth. Enclosed within this envelop is a special chip, which when taken to any nearby Capsule Corporation, will grant you free passage in a teleportation device to our planet of Dante. The finest amenities and provisions will be provided prior to the start of the event. We truly hope to have you as our most honored guest for this momentous occasion.

Sincerely yours, your Host,
Damon Dukes”

[DA 2009]

One of the burly security guards near the checkpoint stood silently until an alarm on his wristwatch started blaring. He lifted his thick, tree trunk of an arm to make sure the time was correct, and switched the alarm off. Then his hand went for the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt, and he brought the device up to his face.

“Lock it down,” he ordered in his deep baritone.

-----

“Are we ready, Audric?” the man known as Damon Dukes asked smoothly.

“We just ran the final simulation. We’re good to go,” Audric grinned confidently. A middle finger tapped a button on his telex. “Chamber team, prep for insertion. Show time.”

-----

In the midst of the entire gathering in the preliminary areas, a pleasant feminine voice suddenly rang out over the loudspeakers. The soothing music playing in the background cut out, and the entire service staff froze like statues, prompting all of the potential players to do the same.

“Attention honored guests. I repeat, attention honored guests. We are now preparing to begin the event. We kindly ask that you all file out into the vestibule where our staff members will assist in directing you to the game area. We hope that our accommodations were to your utmost satisfaction; it was a pleasure serving you, our most honored guests, today. We wish you the best of luck in your endeavor. Thank you, and have a wonderful day.”

Beefy guards dressed in all black flooded the entranceways of each section, two guards for every person who had signed in. Some went willingly. Frozen, the only one who had elected to go into the restaurant, took a quick bite of the dead fetus on his plate and a last, long draught of his tequila before wiping his mouth with a napkin and striding out to meet the two guards come to escort him. In the library, Nankan halted his search for religious texts and moved to go to the door.

“Hold it right there, holy man,” the guard said, grabbing the collar of Nankan’s shirt.

“Is there a problem, gentleman?” Nankan asked.

“Yeah. There’s been a recall on your invitation. You’re out,” the guard sneered.

“I’m out? I don’t understand!” the android said. “I was invited here, and I came to spread the good word!”

“Save it for the pulpit, preacher. You’re done,” the guard snapped. He jerked his head towards another group of sentries who were waiting to escort Nankan off the premises. They came and gripped the android by the arms, hauling him towards the teletubes. “You’ll thank me one day!”

“Why’d we toss him?” his partner asked once Nankan was out of sight.

“Dukes changed his mind. Said it wouldn’t be a good idea to get religion involved. Might offend people,” the guard answered. “He wants everything to go real smooth-like.”

The hotel, of course, had the most Syntex personnel.

“Last call,” José prompted in his thick accent.

Everyone except for Sage quickly polished off what was in front of them. The girl, however, merely pushed the “apple juice” away, knowing that if her Valium wasn’t doing the job, then no amount of “apple juice” was going to help.

“Let’s go, kids,” one of the employees urged, making no effort to hide the ki rifle strapped to his waist.

The gesture was not lost on Kaden, who was already familiar with the tactic. He got up first, albeit reluctantly, and the rest followed. Belle was sure to stand as far away from the women as possible, although he seemed unsure of whether to stand in the back so he wouldn’t be blindsided by the females, or to stand in the front, so he didn’t have to look at them from behind. Off in the corner, Vad took a deep drag on his cigarette before smashing the butt into the ashtray and hopping out of his seat to go join the others. He wondered if the pack was going to last him through the game.

Ashe looked up at the guard who was flanking her as she walked along.

“You wouldn’t be the guy with the pie, would you?” she asked, her voice dripping with irony. The guard didn’t even acknowledge the pink-haired girl as she stared intently at him. “No?” she shook her head. “Didn’t think so.”

Finally, in the gym, the “sparring match” between saiyan egos was quickly broken up before Orion had a chance to counter whatever power the black aura represented. Xenia carefully reined in the released energy.

“Save it for the game, you two.”

“With pleasure,” Orion smiled, shooting a furtive glance at Xenia. He’d learned a few new tricks, too, and in time, he’d be able to test Anitan’s training.

The two were almost out the door when Xenia stopped their escorts. She turned around, directly facing the ones who had been supervising their spar earlier. The princess coughed expectantly. The employee grinned, and produced the wallet, which had somehow found its way in his pocket. He tossed it towards the saiyan, and she caught it handily. Xenia pivoted, chin up, shoulders back, and maintained that cold look as they marched towards where everyone was being led.

[DA 2009]

The seventeen fighters were ordered into a single file according to an arrangement that made no sense to them. Kaden was placed first in the line, whilst Ashe was placed last. A guard, presumably a higher up as he was dressed in gray instead of black, counted them and gave them a quick once-over. Most of them looked so…young. The only one who truly stood out was a robot that looked as misplaced as a clown in a convent. He gave the others a solid thumbs up, and two heavy-duty steel double doors opened. The group shuffled into the room.

It was oddly bare, save for a small dais centered at the end. A fancy chandelier hung from the center, lighting the room in a soft ambience. A plush, red velvety carpet stretched out beneath their feet. The walls were white with gold trim. A band of musicians in black tie ensemble positioned over in a corner, and once the group started to pour in, they began to play “Autumn” by François Barthélémon on their wind instruments. Once out of the single file line, the participants quickly grouped up or singled out. They quietly murmured amongst themselves, wondering what in the world was going on. The sentries that had escorted them lined the walls, weapons charged, hands folded calmly in front.

Suddenly, the door opened again, drawing the stares of the Abyss participants. A well-groomed man with slicked back dark hair walked in, and the music immediately ceased. He was garbed in black dress clothes fit for royalty, with gold, red, and blue trim. A fancy, decorative silver chain strung between red-with-gold-trim shoulder coverings, and a similar yet smaller chain pinned together the cloth collar that covered the man’s neck. A dazzling white smile adorned his clean-shaved face. One by one, the man walked up to each person and greeted them warmly by name, although he didn’t bother to give his own. For some, it was a hearty handshake with his pristinely white-gloved hands. For others, the greeting was a bit customized.

Upon seeing Piper, he merely bowed graciously, making no motion to touch her. When he met Sage, he got down humbly on one knee and kissed the back of her hand, addressing her as “Highness” instead of by name. Sage recoiled, jerking her hand back as if bitten by a venomous snake. The man was unruffled by this reaction. Xenia received the same courtesy, although she was a bit more receptive of the gesture. Orion, Mal Nova, and Vad, instead of handshakes, merely received grunts and nods, the greeting of a warrior.

Once all the contestants had been greeted, the man walked up to the dais and stood directly at its center. The warm smile never left his face.

“My most honored guests…greetings!” he said cheerfully, thrusting his arms out in welcome. “My name is Damon Dukes, your humble host for this event.” He dipped deeply into a graceful bow. At the mention of the name, some stood and did nothing, while others suddenly had to resist the impulse to go over and rip his face off. “It is my pleasure to induct you all into the roster for this year’s Dante’s Abyss. I hope that you were pleased with the accommodations provided; I spared absolutely no expense to give nothing but the best for each and every one of you.”

“YOU LIED!” somebody screamed.

“Ah yes,” Damon acknowledged. “I am afraid that some of my invitations were a bit misleading. I deeply apologize for the deception, but it was necessary to accumulate the group dynamic that I have assembled.”

“I want out!”

Damon’s face wrinkled in sincere remorse. “I am sorry, but the moment your identification chips were swiped, you all were voluntarily entered into a legal binding contract which requires that you participate in this event. Each contract also has unlimited renewable options, meaning that you are all also contractually obligated to return should this event be hosted again.”

“This is bullshit!”

“Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do. Any complaints may be lodged with our customer service department, my good sir,” Damon smiled reassuringly. “Consider this a wonderful opportunity to reunite with old friends, compete with the up-and-coming fighters of the universe, or for my very special guests, be given a day to walk back among the living. For those of you who are familiar with the game, I hope you’ve all been studying up on the rules, because I have taken the liberty of reviving one of our previously successful formats. You needn’t worry about cameras or television ratings, as there will be none. Simply play the game to the best of your ability, and I will be most eternally grateful.”

Damon took a few steps backwards.

“I hope you find it in your hearts to forgive me my sin. I thank you all for coming, and I wish you all the best of luck. Without further ado, the game of Dante’s Abyss will now commence,” Dukes smiled, clapping his hands together and bowing once more.

The clap appeared to be a signal, and the guards pulled something small and compact from their utility belts, placing it over their mouths. Even the musicians did the same.

“May the best player win!” Damon gestured grandly. He stepped backwards once more, and a secret wall opened, permitting him to slip behind it before closing tightly.

A sharp hiss cut through the silence, and the air grew thick with a chemically visibly spraying into the room from previously concealed vents. The participants began to panic as their lungs sucked in the gas. The guards pointed their ki rifles, ready to fire if anyone attempted to escape. It was far too late for that, anyway. One by one, each Dante’s Abyss participant fell choking and gasping to the floor until they were all passed out cold.

[DA 2009]

Damon exited the back entrance to the gas chamber through a secluded tunnel. The warm, mirthful receptiveness on his face quickly melted into a cold expression of heartlessness. An attendant quickly flanked him, anxiously awaiting any request, her arms juggling a stack of papers. Damon carefully pulled off the white gloves, tossing them aside like discarded tissue paper. The attendant caught them handily on top of her paper stack, afraid of dropping them.

“Burn those,” he instructed icily.

She nodded as she eyed him pulling a fresh pair from his pocket and slipping them on. Suddenly, the bluetooth attached to her ear beeped. She pressed its button and patched through the call.

“Sir,” she said after a moment. “Mr. Drake has just arrived. He’s being escorted to the control room.”

“Damn it, what is he doing here?” Dukes cursed under his breath. He picked up the pace and double-timed to the control room. His assistant managed to keep up, stumbling along even in heels. As soon as he reached the door, however, he shut it behind in her face. Damon entered the room, shooting a quick glance at Audric who gave the host a knowing look.

A man in a sharp, glossy Armani suit stood in the center of the room, and whirled around as soon as he heard Damon’s approaching footsteps. “Damon, so nice to see you again,” the man laughed, raising his arms at the elbows.

“Josh,” Damon nodded cordially, forcing a toothy smile. “This is an unexpected surprise.”

“Yeah, well, I just thought I’d come down here and see how things are going,” Josh Drake said merrily, jamming his hands into his pockets. “You know, being chairman of the board and all.”

Damon continued smiling at the man who was his boss. Although, he didn’t look like any boss you might see running the most powerful company on the planet of Dante. Josh may have dressed in the finest suits around, but the top buttons of his pressed white shirt were undone, half of the shirt tucked beneath his belt while the other half hung out, and his satin yellow tie slouched loosely across his neck. The sleeves of his suit were rolled up halfway, revealing a platinum Rolex strapped tightly to his wrist. Even his dark hair was unaffected, wildly poking out of his scalp in a hundred different directions. The only thing that could have completed the ensemble was five o’clock shadow, which was completely absent on Josh’s clean-shaved jaw.

“Ah yes,” Damon acknowledged. “How is the board doing these days?”

Josh sauntered across the room, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “They’re a little concerned. I told them not to worry about anything, but they absolutely insist.”

Damon considered this carefully, although his face did nothing to betray the twinge of apprehension worming its way into his brain. “Concerned?” he repeated casually.

“Yeah. They’re not entirely sure you’ll be successful,” Josh shrugged, as if he were talking about nothing more important than the weather. He let his gaze curiously rove over the control console and reached out his hand to flick at a bright, shiny switch. Audric’s eyes widened, offended by someone daring to touch his precious instruments, although the rest of his body remained perfectly frozen.

“They have my personal guarantee that everything will go smoothly. I wouldn’t dare disgrace the company name,” Dukes assured.

“Hey, you bankrolled most of this operation personally, didn’t you?” Josh asked suddenly.

The host balked at the question for a moment, before finally answering, “Yes, I did, actually.”

“Wow. That would really suck if you screwed up then, huh?” Josh laughed, like it was a great joke.

Damon’s brow twitched momentarily before he broke into a courtesy laugh.

“I didn’t break this thingy, did I?” Josh questioned towards Audric.

“No…” Audric said slowly, still staring at the soiled switch.

“Oh good,” Mr. Drake said. He walked over to Damon and flung his arm around the host’s shoulder. “You’re too uptight, and so is the board. Oh, the board asked me to hook up a remote signal for your program, though. They want to be able to watch from the Syntex building. Something about watching their investment or…yeah, I don’t really know, I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Of course. Whatever they’d like,” Damon acquiesced.

“Awesome,” Josh grinned. He gave Damon a hearty slap on the back before going to leave. At the last moment, he turned back around. “Oh, hey! I’ll be back to watch one of these Combat Days. I love watching people be pit against one another,” he added, his eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “I’ll bring a six-pack, ’kay?”

“Looking forward to it, Josh,” the host smiled politely.

Then, Josh was out the door and on his way out of the complex itself. Once again, Damon’s painted smile evaporated, this time into a feral snarl. He pivoted and stalked towards his chair, rubbing his temples gingerly.

“He touched…my console,” Audric said brokenly. Suddenly, he began violently gesturing with both hands towards the switch Josh had flicked. “Nobody touches my console!” he shouted.

“Audric, shut up,” Damon snapped.

The technical supervisor fell silent, if only to grab a disinfectant wipe to compulsively buff out any impurities on the tainted switch.

“That man is too damn happy all of time. How did somebody like him get to run a corporation like Syntex?”

“Have you ever talked shop with the man?” the host replied simply, his demeanor several degrees calmer. “When are we going online?”

“We just have to wait until the players are loaded. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours,” Audric answered. He turned around, booting up a launch program to oversee the progress.

Damon merely stared blankly at the display screen, seeing nothing but four different yet empty environments.

[DA 2009]

“Hey, be careful with those!” Victor instructed to his inferior as the worker dropped another limp body into the room.

Victor pulled all the gray sheets away from the machines, revealing about fifty individual chambers backlit by a sickly green light. Each chamber had thick Plexiglas panes, revealing the complex machinery housed within each one. As he ripped the sheet off one, Victor jumped as he was startled by the body of Lawrence Scott still hooked up to one.

“Remind me to fire that fuckin’ janitor,” Victor cursed, opening the hatch to the chamber. He unhooked Lawrence and unceremoniously pushed him out. Lawrence’s eyes bulged out of his head, staring into nothingness, and his body began to tremor uncontrollably whilst he started mumbling something unintelligible. “Can somebody come pick this guy up? And make sure he gets paid.” Victor paused a moment, watching Larry’s seizing figure. “Not that he’ll be able to do anything with it,” he added.

One by one, each unconscious fighter was loaded into a chamber, and a team of medical personnel began to hook them carefully up to the machines. A tube was inserted intravenously into each arm, and a cold, clear liquid flowed through the plastic almost immediately. Gel was applied in specific locations on the body, and wired patches were stuck to each primed spot. Oxygen masks were carefully fitted over the bottom half of their faces. Twin needles carefully drilled into the center of each temple. REM-13 required a custom setup, although his was much easier. A cracker program was uploaded into his circuitry by a computer technician.

“Sleepin’ like babies,” Victor chuckled, ribbing one of his fellow Syntex employees. “Though I wouldn’t want to be dreaming if I were them.”

“How the hell does this thing work, exactly? The last few Abyss tournaments they were just teleported to an island. Even before that, they still used an island. Why not anymore?” the companion asked.

“Think of it like their mind is being uploaded into a computer program. This gives Dukes complete control, over the players, and over the environment. He can change the time of day, the weather, everything, all with the touch of a button. He can make what they feel and see seem completely real. We have them completely hardwired into the system. Each player’s consciousness has a unique IP signal, and all the data associated with that signal is housed in a string of code that is physically manifested in the program as the collar that has always been used.”

“How…how did he manage to do all of this?”

“There have been similar programs used before. Dukes happens to be head of the R&D department at Syntex. He got hold of those programs, engineered the concept to apply to an Abyss tournament, and had Audric write the code. He wants a shot at a seat on the board, and he figures if this tournament goes successfully, he’ll get it.”

“And what happens if he doesn’t?”

Victor smiled cynically. “We’re all going to wish we’d picked a different career.”

-----

A beep went off on Audric’s monitor when the last contestant was completely prepped. “Ready, Damon?”

Damon’s heart pounded in his chest as he gripped the armrests of his chair. “Activate the program.”

Audric flashed another grin, and he flipped open a plastic cover that protected a large, red button. “And here…we…go.”

He jabbed the button with a fingertip, and his console hummed anew as the tournament of Dante’s Abyss began.

[DA 2009]

The sound of a telephone ringing cut through the silence in the dark room. Shuffling of fabric followed, and an arm reached out to flick on an expensive table lamp. Damon’s sleepy eyes blinked into focus as the host picked up the phone.

“What is it?” he asked groggily.

“I need you in the control room,” Audric’s voice replied.

“Is it important?” Dukes groaned sourly.

“Would I call you if it wasn’t?” Audric retorted.

Damon promptly hung up. He rubbed his face and turned over, noticing a lump lying next to him. Sharply, the Syntex employee pulled back the sheets, revealing the naked, slumbering figure of a gorgeous woman.

“Why are you still here?” he snapped. With a mighty kick, he pushed her off the edge, and she awoke with a startled gasp. She stood, stumbling as she did, and grabbed at the 1,500-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets in attempt to save her rapidly crumbling dignity. Damon ripped them from her grasp, and started to slide out of the bed and onto his feet. In a fright, she ran out of the room, covering her naughty bits with her hands.

Damon went and locked the door before heading towards his private bathroom to shower.

-----

The host sauntered forcibly into the control room, clad in a collared, black button-up satin shirt and black trousers.

“Damon! Damon, come here!” Audric ushered, waving his hand frantically. He was trying and barely succeeding at stifling a fit of giggles that threatened to overtake him.

The tech supervisor pointed to one of the screen sections, his finger resting upon a blue-haired girl who looked extremely on edge. A small “pop-up” next to her figure listed her name and program statistics: Sage, it read. Audric then brought a finger to his lips, as if they needed to be quiet for some reason; Dukes rolled his eyes. “Sshhh,” Audric giggled. He isolated the sound on Sage’s monitor so they could both hear what she was hearing. Then, the mohawked programmer typed a command line on one monitor, waited for one suspenseful moment, and then hit a button on a separate console. The sound of a cell phone ringing suddenly blasted on the monitor, causing Sage to jump. Audric burst into a fit of howling laughter. “I’ve been doing this for ten minutes,” he roared. Then he broke out into an exaggerated imitation. “She’s like, *gasp*! What’s that? What’s that?” he laughed, jerking his head to mimic her movements. “It’s almost not even fair how easy this is.”

“You’re an idiot,” Dukes muttered, walking away.

“Oh man,” Audric said, almost to the point of tears as he calmed down. “It’s like being God. I teleported Vad into a tree, got Belle Hibiki with an avalanche, and then I glitched fake items into Ashe’s bag and then changed them back to the original ones. She’s going to flip. It’ll be great.”

“Did you call me for a reason, or are you just screwing around?” Damon asked acidly.

Audric composed himself. “Oh yeah. We have a slight problem.”

Damon stopped in his tracks. “Why do we have a problem?”

“The lab results from the blood tests came back. The DNA of one of the players doesn’t match the person who was supposed to receive the invitation. Basically, one of them snuck in,” Audric explained. He exchanged the focus of the game monitors and pulled up a man in dark shades taking a few puffs on a cigarette and walking through the Artic Sector. “This guy came in under the name ‘Bill Gates.’ He swiped the chip of one of our competitors. Dunno how we missed that. One of the other guys, Shou, we baited him into thinking he took somebody’s invitation when it was really addressed to him all along, but not Mr. Sunglasses-At-Night here.”

The host paused a moment, carefully considering his options. “Contact our friends in the legal department. Have them redraft his contract. I want it airtight with no mistakes. Send the image to the networking team, and make sure they’re working around the clock to collect the necessary research on that player. They should start by tracking down the original invite; he’s probably lying around dead somewhere.”

“Payroll’s gonna love that,” Audric commented sarcastically.

Dukes ignored his subordinate, instead intently studying the monitor. It was almost time, he noticed. “How many have made it to a bunker?”

“Not enough. Over half of them haven’t.”

The host simmered on the response, watching as each individual player struggled to come to grips with their newfound environments. A few had successfully adapted, while some were a bit slower to acclimate. He wondered how many of them truly understood the gravity of the situation…Stasis Fields and collar timers weren’t a good combination. Still, the schedule had to be kept, and the next phase was due shortly.

“Send in the Eliminators,” Damon ordered.

Audric broke out into a grin, bringing up a hand to his telex in compliance.

-----

Damon walked down into the chamber room, his poise smooth and elegant. As he entered, his eyes quickly passed along a group of five individuals. His expression lit up with his infamous façade, and a warm smile formed on his lips.

“’Bout time you got here, Dukes. We’ve been waiting,” a blond-haired man in designer sunglasses smirked.

“My sincerest apologies,” Damon offered, bowing his head in deference. “It’s a pleasure to have you all here.” He made eye contact and nodded to each one in turn. “I trust you have all been informed of the task I require of you?”

The blond-haired man laughed. “Yeah, we got it.”

“Excellent. The medical team will prep you for insertion. Should your services be required, you will be uploaded into the program. Until then, you will remain in stasis. Good luck.”

With that, Damon did an about-face and confidently strode from the room. The team of white-garbed individuals ushered the five towards their respective chambers, dosing them with a sedative before hooking them up to the pods.

[DA 2009]

“How many now?”

“Everyone except two: REM-13, and John Doe. They’re as good as dusted,” Audric answered.

Damon looked at the Combat Day timer counting down in the far corner of a stats monitor, waiting for it to reach 00:00. The seconds slowly ticked away, until finally none remained. The numbers flashed, and a beeping sound alerted them to the expiration. Without any prompting, Audric quickly punched in a few command lines, and with dramatic flourish, hit the ‘Enter’ key.

“Let the fun being,” he said.

-----

CITY SECTOR

As the two slowly trekked to the borders of City Sector, intending on abandoning their current position in search of another, their collars started beeping without warning.

“Searching…searching…” a computerized, feminine voice spoke.

“Searching? Searching for what?” Ashe thought aloud.

“Signal located. Beginning combat protocol,” the voice answered.

“Combat? There’s…” Kaden began. His red eyes widened as realization suddenly dawned on him. “…nobody here but us,” he finished in horror.

“[I]Stasis field engaging,” the voice continued, oblivious to their plight.

A blue field of energy expanded from the collars and stretched out wide, farther and farther until they could no longer see it. After about five miles, the stasis field settled and planted firmly to a halt.

The two merely stared speechlessly at each other, at a complete loss. Sage’s words, unfortunately, had come true, and at the completely wrong time.

-----

FOREST SECTOR

A similar experience was happening all over the world of Dante. The largest cluster of warriors panicked as their collars began to beep. Once the signals properly aligned, each of them teleported away, split up for the fights. Tamsin looked around, unable to see her master anywhere. She was afraid for him, of the things they were going to have to do. He was alone, and she wouldn’t be able to protect him. He had told her that she had to be strong, that she had to be able to fight…and kill. It wasn’t Maleficus Nova she needed to worry about now…she needed to worry about herself. Somebody was coming for her, and she’d have to stand alone, if not for her own survival, but so she could see that her master was okay.

Tamsin looked around, waiting for the inevitable.

-----

MOUNTAIN SECTOR

Orion glanced about at the rocky terrain with his good eye, wondering if he’d been lucky enough to be on the trail of a good fight. As if to answer his prayers, and shut the damn god in his head up, his collar started beeping. At first, he was confused; he’d entered a bunker, so he should have been safe. Then, as it began to vocalize its procedure, Orion realized what was going on.

“It’s about damn time,” he whispered with a grin.

He could feel his body shift as he was teleported. A stasis field erupted from his collar, locking him in place. The cycloptic saiyan tensed, ready for whoever was going to come his way.

“Looks like you’re the lucky one this round,” somebody laughed.

Orion spun, facing the direction of the voice. A blond-haired man in designer sunglasses jumped down from a rocky ridge above, landing with the grace of a mountain lion. He straightened up, and flashed a grin of perfect white teeth.

“Or unlucky, depending on how you want to look at it. Unfortunately for you, I’m the best Eliminator there is,” he laughed. He tipped his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, letting his blue eyes peer from above the shades. “Name’s Hollywood.”

Without waiting for Orion’s reply, Hollywood dropped slowly into a fighting stance. “Let’s dance.”

[DA 2009]

The host smoothed back his hair one final time, sucking in a deep breath. The conference room around him stood empty, each black chair accompanying the long, polished oak table sitting without occupation. Damon punched in a few numbers on the keypad embedded near the executive chair on the end of the table, and one by one, a hologram of men and women in business suits materialized into the previously vacant chairs. At the farthest seat on the end, the one reserved for chairman of the board, sat Josh Drake, in all of his slouched attire. Upon seeing Damon, he waved energetically like a kid seeing an old friend. Dukes gave him a polite nod, his expression completely masked by his typical poker face.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the board, it is a privilege to have you here this evening. I am greatly humbled by the assembly of our most honored managerial body,” Damon greeted warmly. He clasped his hands together. “I trust that everyone enjoyed that first round of combat?”

“Quite the technical display, Dukes,” one of them said. “I trust it doesn’t require too much manipulation?”

Damon smiled, shrugging off the verbal barb with a wave of his hand. “A mere demonstration of the program’s capabilities. As you can see, my associate and I are in complete control at all times.”

“Tell me something, Damon, why didn’t you have any of the previous contestants return this year? They were wildly successful, ruthlessly powerful, and we made billions of zeni in marketing and merchandising alone off of their image,” another pondered.

“An excellent question. As the dynamics of the program were different this year, we needed a control group who were not familiar with the nature of the tournament. I handpicked each and every one of the players within the game after careful and thorough research. The group is comprised of a delicate balance of combat ability, personality, and psychological behavior. In order to “get the ball rolling,” so to speak, some of them came with prior knowledge, but no prior experience, of Dante’s Abyss, in order to more readily illuminate the gravity of the situation to others, whether by verbal communication or physical force. As far as marketing, while that may not be my department, I do believe that refreshing one’s products on a regular basis is an effective sales tactic.”

“Your proposed budget is…interesting. These numbers seem almost too good to be true, but we’re a little concerned with where you’re funneling the money.”

Damon opened his palms so they faced the ceiling. “My program is incredibly efficient. I had accounting crunch the numbers, and I oversaw every little detail myself.”

“I’ve looked over the portfolio,” Josh interrupted, his posture suddenly that of an authority figure. “By using a virtual simulator, we cut the cost of: terra-forming the island each year, maintaining the grounds, the equipment and materials required for complete genetic reconstruction of our competitors, purchasing weapons and supplies, networking the cameras, and the tracking system. We also cut payroll for all of the employees we typically send out to man a sign-up booth. Everything is neatly synchronized in one package, and we have complete and total cooperation from Capsule Corporation, who generously provides teleportation in return for a few simple product placements. Mr. Dukes’ program is very thorough; I’ve had an independent technology unit inspect every last inch.”

Damon could scarcely hide the look of surprise that flashed in his eyes; he’d had no idea anyone had been near the system except for those with the highest level of security clearance. Then again, that was one of the reasons why Josh Drakes was chairman of the board—nothing went unattended without careful and meticulous probing.

“Yes, however, the portfolio neglects to mention the rather astronomical cost of the lavish comforts you provided them prior to entrance into the program; it’s nearly double what we paid last year. This is a company, not the Waldorf Astoria.”

“Studies have shown in multiple aspects of life that those who are well-cared for perform better at whatever task they are required to meet. Workers who are given medical benefits, for example, are generally healthier people and are therefore more productive. By giving the competitors the absolute best before they are about to participate, they may rise to a higher standard,” Damon explained smoothly. “For each individual, the need is different. Some need a stiff drink, some need pleasurable company, and others require mental or physical preparation. Since I have arranged a diverse group, I need to provide them all, as concluded by their profiles.”

“And what about these independent contractors you outsourced?”

“Cheaper labor, and by contracting out, it ensures a greater sense of privacy for construction,” the host replied. “If you’ll just look at the reports I’ve compiled for all of you, you can see that my program will still be in the black…”

“…it’s not just about money,” a woman interrupted. “It’s about our company’s reputation. Even with the previous incarnations of Dante’s Abyss, our competitors have always had their free will. They signed up freely, knowing exactly what they were in for. You, however, circumvent that very important factor with your backdoor contracts and deceptive invitations. And with this…simulation…you become nothing more than a puppet-master with strings. What makes you any different than any other competition currently on the market?”

Dukes paused a moment. “For those who are…resistant…I have employed methods to ensure their compliance, yes. However, if you review the program protocols, there is an exit, which allows them to leave at any time of their choosing, regardless of whatever encouragement I presume to use. I merely use a ‘prod,’ whilst others use a ‘chain.’ For every minute each player is in the game, it is because they have allowed themselves to continue.”

“And that’s your grand justification? We have Kajin Ralan authorities looking into this competition! In case you haven’t noticed, Dukes, we’re a corporate entity; Dante doesn’t run on a military standard like those other planets that hold people against their wills!”

The host cleared his throat. “It is still early yet in the tournament. Allow me to lay all of your fears to rest. If this program is not to an acceptable level of satisfaction, I will terminate it myself.”

“Be careful, Damon. Those are words to live or die by.”

With that, the holograms vanished, and the conference concluded. Damon swallowed hard and loosened his collar.

-----

The aspiring Syntex employee stormed into the control room, slumping into his chair with barely repressed fury. All of his hard work, completely torn asunder.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Audric commented. “Yoouuu…look like shit. But never fear, because I’m about to make your day a whole lot worse.”

“What…happened?” Damon asked slowly.

“Uhhh, welllll, the collar clocks just expired again, and guess who was on the dusting list?” the supervisor replied with mock enthusiasm.

-----

Orion lay sprawled out on the mountainside, still completely unconscious from Hollywood’s fierce kick. He couldn’t hear his collar as it started beeping, slowly at first, until it rose in pitch and frequency. Finally, it let out a long droning beep before the saiyan’s body disintegrated into nothing. The Eliminator had done his job all too well.

-----

Somewhere unconscious on the forest floor, Piper Juunanagou experienced a similar fate. After the stasis field disengaged, Sophia was teleported away, unable to help her fallen comrade. Piper’s bold effort to spare them both fell short, and alas, the medic was only able to spare one in the end. No one was there to see her body reduced to molecules as the collar timer expired.

-----

Xenia walked along the forest, head held high. She was among the victors that day, and it brought her one step closer to bringing down that low-leveled wretch of a saiyan. Unfortunately, she forgot one little thing on her quest for reclamation of pride, and that was to locate a bunker in time to deactivate the charges ringed tightly around her neck. As the fatal beep began to sound, Xenia looked around for the familiar building, her body less poised, her face less composed.

“Aw, sh—”

And then it was over.

-----

Shou chuckled to himself, looting through the supplies of the Mountain Sector Bunker. He’d taken down the robot, being far too clever than it to lose, and had stumbled upon another competitor. Of course, Vad owed his life to Shou, now. He contemplated how he could possibly make the saiyan useful to him, as either a partner, or a fall-guy. That was when his collar started beeping. At first, Shou shrugged it off; he was safe, he had already deactivated it. But the collar was persistent, seemingly unaware of the fact that it had been switched off and reset. Slowly, Shou’s confusion gave way to panic.

“No fucking way, I entered a bunker,” he said aloud, as if to verbally reassure himself. The collar did not listen. “C’mon, I entered a bunker. I deactivated it. I DEACTIVATED IT!”

He couldn’t even let off a scream as his body evaporated into thin air.

[DA 2009]

“Fantastic,” Damon muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The grudge match between Orion and Xenia was one of my biggest selling points. Both of them were willing opponents. I just lost some of my strongest competitors.”

“You don’t look so good,” Audric said.

“Should I?” Dukes snorted. His career was on the line, and he was blowing it. He expected a few setbacks, but not this many, and not this soon. Program glitches, premature eliminations, and now the board was breathing down his neck. He just needed some time to think, get his head together, and recoup the plan. The host was already all-in; he just needed to change his strategy a little bit. Damon snapped his fingers, and an attendant brought a chilled bottle of wine and a clean glass. He sipped the liquid, resisting the urge to guzzle it down with abandon. He was, first and foremost, refined.

“I’m feeling an order coming on,” the mohawked techie predicted.

“How many people left?”

“Seven are gone, ten are left. But, we actually have eleven, if we’re including your little surprise.”

“So Vincent has been entered into the game, then?” Damon replied, a small smile coming to his lips. “I almost forgot about him. My wild card player, on the company payroll. He should prove interesting.” He fell silent for a few minutes, and those few minutes quickly turned into ten, and fifteen, until finally Dukes spoke once more. “Extend the collar timers, and update the notifications in the bunkers to let them know. We’ll also need to begin the bunker deactivation sequence shortly, although hold off on that for now. And have the medical team prepare the fluids for injection; they should have the chemical lists already.”

“Hold on, I’m the phone,” Audric whispered. “Yeah, Pizza Castle? You guys do interplanetary deliveries, right? Can you tell me what the charge is for that, and, uh, do you have any, like, specials going on right now? Like combo deals? Maybe with a soda or anything with a lot of caffeine…”

Within two seconds, Damon had risen from his chair and jerked the telex off of Audric’s head.

“Hey!” the subordinate protested. He dove and grabbed the telex from his boss’s grip, shoving it next to his ear. His face fell when he heard nothing but dial tone. “I was gonna order you something too, jeez!”

[DA 2009]

Dutifully, and a little too gleefully, Audric hit rewind, and then play, and after the clip was done, he hit rewind again and started the whole thing all over.

“If I were that fucking impotent, I’d want to watch a bunch of kids being forced to play in my little game, too. No, really, it sounds healthy.”

The supervisor watched in rapture as the human teenager poured insult after insult out into the empty air, heard only by the digital programming that conveyed it into sound over the speakers of the control room console. After the clip was over, Audric clapped, a goofy grin plastered all over his face.

“You want to watch it again?” the programmer asked, craning his head over his shoulder.

“Be my guest,” Damon gestured coolly.

Audric’s smile turned into a disappointed frown. “I must have played this a dozen times now, and your reaction hasn’t changed one bit since he said it the first time. You’re no fun. What’s wrong with you?”

Damon chuckled, sincerely amused. “Because, it doesn’t matter. Why should I care?”

“Because he’s making you look bad in front of the board?” Audric guessed.

“I should think that his words were rather entertaining to them, and if the board is entertained, then they are pleased. If they are pleased, it only furthers my ends. Besides, I got him to do exactly what I want him to do,” Dukes replied with a slight smile.

“And that is…?”

“He’s playing the game,” Damon answered slowly, a hint of humor in his tone. “Once you figure people out, all you have to do is push the right buttons, and they’ll believe that their actions are of their own motivation. Instill a little fear into a superstitious boy, disguise someone as a hated enemy, force someone to beat a dear friend within an inch of their life, or insult someone in just the right way. Why, you could motivate them to do just about anything, don’t you think? I don’t have to pull strings anymore; they’ll do it on their own, now. And that’s exactly what the board wants: completely willing participants. If I have to sacrifice the opinion of one completely insignificant adolescent to get there, then so be it. I play chess, not checkers.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a complete and total bastard?” Audric said.

“Many times. In the end, it’s just business. The world isn’t black and white,” Damon shrugged. “They’re being compensated, and once they’re done with this tournament, they move on with their lives. I might have mislead them into the Abyss, but they have stayed in the Abyss because they choose to stay; I’m not forcing anyone to be here.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Damon,” the game supervisor retorted.

Damon just chuckled. “Go ahead and inject the ‘happy cocktail.’ I think they could use it right about now. Make sure the dosage is adjusted for our recreational substance users; they’ll need a little more.”

“Absolutely,” Audric agreed.

“And Audric, no more mods. I want this next round to be completely free of technical interference,” the host continued. He glanced at the clock and rose from his chair. “I’m going to retire for the evening.”

Audric flashed him a thumbs up.

“You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?” Dukes asked, somewhat warningly.

“No sir, I got this little, drink thing going on here,” the other answered. He raised a giant pitcher in view for his boss to see, and it contained a large amount of brownish, odd-colored liquid. Audric looked inside the pitcher opening and took a big whiff, inspecting the contents. “I got some coffee, I got some Mountain Dew, some espresso, uh, some Red Bull, uh…I don’t remember what that is but the smell is familiar…ummm, some…I think it’s, Jolt cola? I don’t really know; I just kind of went into the kitchen and started mixing stuff, I didn’t really look at the labels very long, and I think I put…”

“I…don’t need to hear this,” Damon cut him off.

“Want some?” Audric offered brightly, gesturing his pitcher towards his superior.

Damon glanced disgustedly at the pitcher, and then at Audric, and just left. The techie shrugged, as if saying, “Your loss.” He set the container of amalgamated beverages back where he’d placed it before, and then hovered his hand over the console, looking for the controls to the chambers’ chemical tubes. He noticed they were on a farther end, and slid over in his rolling chair. The supervisor pulled out a chart of meticulously prepared notes regarding dosages for each of the contestants, and carefully inputted the data into the command line, one at a time.

As soon as the correct prompts were entered, Audric carefully coasted his fingers along a digital slide on a tracking pad, and the chemicals began to pump into the players through their IVs. Four different flavors combined together to make the “happy cocktail”: serotonin, dopamine, nor-adrenaline, and endorphins.

[DA 2009]

Damon let out a heavy breath as he rubbed an eye with his palm, staring at the stack of papers in front of him on the polished mahogany desk. For the host, ‘retiring for the evening’ simply meant he had other work to attend. Despite the fact that his primary attention focused on Dante’s Abyss, he still had a whole department of Syntex to run. Paperwork wasn’t going to do itself. He’d gotten as far as he had by dedicating every waking moment to being personally involved in everything he committed to; not many in the company could say the same. To him, it was simply good old-fashioned class and work ethic. Dukes couldn’t possibly see why others wouldn’t do the same, so he expected their dedication to be completely equivalent of his. Those who were challenged had to rise to that challenge, and so he had little tolerance for incompetence.

Finally, the papers came back into focus as his blurry vision corrected itself. He stared at a requisition order for development of a new weapon, and the budget was completely astronomical. Damon tossed the order aside and pruned it down to what he believed was absolutely essential without compromising quality; the new draft was sent to the supplier. The next few were proposed projects in the “approve or deny” stage, and he carefully perused them before stamping a final judgment. A yawn escaped his lips, and he leaned back in his expensive leather chair, stretching.

As he hunched over his desk once more, his hand couldn’t help but stray to his Rolodex, and he casually flipped through it until he came to the card of a Capsule Corporation executive. He read the name, the number, and the title, until he flipped the card over. It read, ‘We hope you consider our offer seriously. Your talents are wasted at Syntex.’

A matching salary, annual bonus, guaranteed stock options…Capsule Corporation made an enticing promise. Damon snorted as he put the card back in its place. He’d also have to learn a whole new tank of sharks, and if Dante’s Abyss fell through, he doubted they would be as generous.

Dukes glanced through the rest of the stack, and decided to take a break. He sauntered down to the gymnasium, changing into a Speedo, goggles, diver’s watch, and swim cap in the locker room before diving into the Olympic-sized swimming pool. The rush of the water over his skin felt good, rejuvenating, and relieved the tension that had been bunching up in his neck. A swimming scholarship had been his ticket into one of the most prestigious universities on Earth, where he had graduated with high honors. Some part of him still felt like the best work he ever did was after a session in the pool; it had gotten his foot in the door, after all. It also kept him from looking like those fat slobs that sat on their asses all day long stuffing their pudgy faces with calorie-loaded take-out.

He kept swimming until the alarm on his diver’s watch went off, and he quickly showered and changed back into his designer clothes. It had been a while since he had checked on Audric…too long, he thought.

Damon kept his gait smooth as he headed towards the control room. As he entered, the first thing to greet him was strange noises. Someone was muttering unintelligibly, and as he neared the console, the host could discern that it was coming from Audric. His brows knitted in complete irritation as suspicion washed over him in an all too familiar manner. He violently jerked the rolling chair around, and found his technical supervisor slumped against it with eyes closed and mouth agape.

“You idiot!” Damon shouted, slapping Audric’s face forcefully with the back of his hand.

Audric jumped awake with a start.

“This is a Combat Day! Why are you asleep?” Dukes demanded furiously.

Audric blinked his wide eyes a few times, and then looked around the room as if he couldn’t quite figure out where he was. “I don’t know,” he said distantly. Suddenly, he came to a sobering epiphany. “This isn’t Candyland.”

Damon gestured as if he was going to strangle his underling, and then forcefully restrained himself. “I have…another board meeting…after this Combat Day,” he said slowly, audibly controlling the level of anger in his tone.

“Right,” Audric agreed, pointing an index finger into the air. He turned around to gawk fixedly at the screen, renewed vigilance burning in his eyes. Within a few minutes, his head promptly slumped forward as he fell back asleep. Damon smacked him upside the head once more, so hard that Audric’s headgear came loose. “I’m awake!” the mohawked programmer insisted instantly.

“What happened to that little concoction of yours?” Damon demanded.

Audric pulled out the now-empty pitcher. “I think I pissed it all out.” He craned his head up at Damon. “I’ve been up for three days watching these monitors.” He lifted up an arm and sniffed a pit. “And I smell. Really bad. See?”

Damon instantly retreated a step or two. He exhaled loudly and collected himself. “Go to the sleeping quarters, shower, and go to sleep. You have nine hours before I expect you to be back.”

Audric nodded, stood, and then started caressing the console. “It’s okay baby, I’ll be back.” He glanced at Damon, and said seriously, “Don’t touch anything. The controls are very temperamental. The combat protocols are automatic, so you shouldn’t have to maintain the code like I’ve been doing. If anything goes wrong, call me first. If you bring in any of those moron maintenance guys in here, I’ll castrate you.”

“Audric, I designed this program,” Damon replied pointedly. “I reviewed all of the coding you did. I know how it works.”

“I’m serious, Damon. If you go down, so do I,” Audric continued, any hint of humor gone from his face. “And I’m not going to go quietly.”

The two stared each other down for a moment. Finally, Damon broke into a smile, and Audric did the same. The smiles weren’t friendly ones, although they pretended to be. Audric took the impasse as his signal to begin his break. As soon as he left, Damon cued an attendant to come in and sanitize the supervisor’s chair before the host would allow himself to sit in it.

Due to the nature of the programming, the contestants had only been in there for mainly the equivalent of a day or so, but the lag of coding translated differently to real time. Time, as they say, is relative. When you played a video game, what seemed like a few minutes to you could be a few hours to somebody else. It didn’t help much for the players that the only clocks in the game were synchronized to their collars, and the rest were purposefully out of whack.

Not knowing how much he missed, Damon was relieved that relatively little action had expired since he was gone. He watched in keen interest at how they were handling the effects of the drug-induced euphoria.

“Don’t tell me I never did anything for you,” he chuckled.

[DA 2009]

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” Kaden chuckled through gritted teeth. “But I’ll prove it. I’ll prove you don’t have to play this game.”

He trudged through the snow, knowing that the first thing he had to do was get to a bunker to get his bullet wound stitched up, and the second thing he needed to do was find Ashe. Thus far, they were keeping each other together, sane, protected. She would likely head for the Sector bunker, and they could meet up there. In the meantime, Kaden intended to use the time to himself to further plan out his strategy of rebellion. Damon hadn’t interfered, and Kaden hadn’t had to fight, so although he literally ‘took a bullet’ for his ideal, the courier found himself elated with this personal moral victory. And he intended to do it again.

That was when he heard the beeps.

Much like the others, at first, he didn’t understand what was going on. The combat protocol had just ended, there wasn’t likely another one to be scheduled this soon…and then it hit him. Despite the pain in his shoulder, Kaden laughed.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

He couldn’t see the bunker anywhere nearby, and even if he knew where to look after his geographical displacement, he doubted he could make it in time. Kaden just kept on laughing at the irony of it all, so loudly that it almost drowned out the beep of the collar. He was still laughing when his body disintegrated into nothing.

-----

Damon Dukes leaned back in the chair, watching every last second of it. Although no one was watching him, he sat as far away as comfortably possible from the console, his fingers laced together, elbows placed upon the armrests, as if to prove to the universe that he had nothing to do with it.

“Sorry Kaden, that was all you.”

[DA 2009]

Once more, Damon entered the conference room. This time, his preparation was a bit different. He had spent extra time compiling a different sort of “report,” one that would ideally prove highly more effective than simple figures. Of course, being one to cover all of his bases, Dukes had written up a traditional version as well. In his hand, the host gripped a remote control, almost as if it were the sword to keep demons at bay. He took a breath, composed his facial expression into the polite and professional mask he so typically wore, and waited until the holograms of the boards members materialized into the empty chairs once again.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the board, welcome back. I am quite eager to hear your responses towards the last series of events,” Damon smiled, awaiting the inevitable onslaught of criticisms.

“The second bout of combat merely further demonstrated your willingness to manipulate the results. And the third displayed quite a bit of unusual behavior from the competitors.”

“We are also concerned with the amount of eliminations by way of collar. Some of your most promising players have suffered under your rather enthusiastic and aggressive dusting patterns.”

“It also seems a bit redundant to have two versions of Eliminators. One of them ran around free, completely unrestrained by the rules of the tournament, whilst the others seem like mere filler. What kind of preposterous characters have you hired?”

Damon raised his hands as if to silence them, his most kindly look frozen upon his visage. “Please, please, allow me to field your inquiries one at a time.” As he answered their points of contention, he faced each source of complaint in turn. “The second bout of competition experienced surgical strikes. In reference to the modification program utilized between Mr. Hibiki and Dr. Roberts, it was merely to ensure that a fight did indeed take place. Between Ms. Rosado and Ms. Juunanagou, a shock was utilized in the first day of combat because that was simply all the motivation needed. Mr. Hibiki displays a very unique fear of the female species, whilst Dr. Roberts suffers from a lack of confidence, so a specific element needed to be introduced to accelerate the stagnancy. As you can see, it produced surprising and strategic results. In regards to my employee Vincent against Kaden, I take full responsibility, as that was merely a psychological experiment, and I did not allow it to affect the outcome of the fight. As far as the collar detonations are concerned, once I set the precedent, I was bound by the rules I determined and could not interfere. Information was made available and indeed the clocks were even extended, but alas, there is little I can do to assuage your concerns on what is past. You can lead a horse to water, as the expression goes. In regards to my Eliminators, they are, again, to ensure that a fight does indeed take place with every player. I applied the same principles to them as to my competitors, in that I arranged a wide variety of personalities and skill levels to provide balance. They are tightly controlled and follow a rigid set of instructions. As for Vincent, he is the exact opposite. He masqueraded as a regular player, but was not bound by the rules, which made him exciting, unpredictable, dangerous. A true wild card. I think he performed admirably.”

“He was killed by a little girl with no control over her ki. How would you consider that admirable?”

Damon placed the fingers of his free hand upon his chest, and chuckled in good humor. “If you will allow me to catch my breath, I have humbly prepared a little visual demonstration for you.”

The host clicked the slick, black remote control towards the ceiling, and a high quality television set descended from a previously invisible hatch. It had four screens, one on each side, and they were currently blank. Damon clicked another button, and an enthralling, explosive title sequence began to play. Once the title sequence completed, a succession of hand-animated players striking fearsome poses, complete with their names beneath the pictures, played.

“Vad Zulenka, Maleficus Nova, Frozen Dragon, Orion, Xenia, Shou, Alexander Trafford, Belle Hibiki, and Piper Juunanagou,” Damon announced verbally in turn. “This is Group A: these players were selected specifically for their aggressive natures and fighting prowess.” He clicked another button, and each of their fights was recapped with archive footage. “As you can see, we have the pure aggressor types that live for the fight, and the strategic planners. Many of them had the ability to completely shut off their emotional responses, whilst others provided more flamboyant reactions. They all joined of their own accord and were perfectly aware of the nature of the tournament. This group alone is the primary target for Dante’s Abyss, and provides more than enough incentive to get the remaining players to engage. These competitors comprise most of my selection, so I believe there are less ‘back-door contracts’ than you initially feared.”

A series of clips showed Vad and Mal attacking their opponents using metal and wind with ruthless abandon, Frozen giving a gentlemanly speech before viciously launching at his opponent, Orion insulting the Eliminator he was paired with and then releasing his most powerful blast, Xenia coolly leveling the forest with a machine gun, Shou tossing his opponent’s sword into a canyon, Alexander Trafford grinning while firing his Desert Eagles, Belle Hibiki ducking out of the way from in front of the barrier just as an icy weapon was about to skewer him, and Piper carefully acting out her battle coordination. Damon clicked another button and a new succession of player pictures scrolled along.

“Kaden, Sophia Rosado, Dr. Sage Roberts, Ashe Branford, Tamsin Suzaku, REM-13, and Tempo Uriel,” Dukes continued. “This is Group B: these players were selected for their mix of battle skills as well as personality types. Many are quite adequate fighters yet require a bit more inclination to participate as fully as Group A. Some of them were indeed informed of the tournament’s nature, but their motivations aren’t quite as simple as love of combat. REM-13 and Tamsin, for example, joined for their respective masters, while Sage joined as a means to an end. While not directly the target for Dante’s Abyss, they provide emotional depth, a sense of humanity, or in other words an additional dynamic to the tournament that appeals to a larger audience than those into ‘action flicks.’ If nothing else, they make excellent body fodder.”

The next series of clips displayed Kaden aerial-dodging a series of ki-infused bullets, Sophia slowly draining the life out of her opponent, Sage going berserk and tearing down everything in her path, Ashe twirling her wand in her hand to fire at the fiend clutching her in the air, Tamsin mentally flinging knives at her menacing assailant, REM-13 expertly handling his sword, and Tempo unleashing the wellspring of his inner strength. The audible click of a button could be heard, and the last two animated pictures flashed on the screen.

“John Doe, and Vincent,” Damon concluded. “John Doe joined for fun, going so far as to kill the original competitor in order to enter the Abyss. He would have provided quite a bit of entertainment, considering he was a bit of mystery. Vincent, as you are aware, was hired as a wild card player. His ambush tactics were impressive, and indeed of his own design with a little inside information in regards to the appropriate timing. He was professional, methodical, and incredibly thorough.”

The quick set of clips showed John Doe with his trademark smirk as he approached his opponent, and Vincent as he unleashed a salvo of ammunition on his unsuspecting prey.

“So basically, Damon, you’re giving us a review of things we’ve already seen?” a board member chirped.

“I merely sought to put things in perspective,” he explained. “When looking at two shades of blue separately, they can seem incredibly similar, but when looking at them side-by-side, you begin to see the differences in pigmentation.”

The board talked amongst themselves, murmuring so low that Damon couldn’t hear. No doubt they were very practiced at hearing hushed whispers. He waited patiently for them to come to a consensus. They had likely expected another verbal altercation as before, and Dukes only hoped that his carefully arranged footage highlighting the players’ strengths in regards to the tournament’s nature would be enough to sway their opinion. Finally, their heads all uniformly turned towards him.

“We will need more time to consider this presentation of yours,” Josh Drake said finally. “I would recommend revising it and creating more of a compelling argument. Until such time, we will observe the Combat Day that is currently taking place.”

Damon nodded, and as each of their projected bodies disappeared in a flash of light, he could barely contain the frustration burning in his eyes.

[DA 2009]

FOUR HOURS AGO…

Damon stared into nothingness, fingertips pressed hard against the smooth, polished surface of the conference table. The host had long since read through the stack of papers in front of him. The last few hours played on a loop in his mind, over and over again. Everything progressed so well, but how did it come to this? Up until now, very little could shake Dukes as soundly as this undertaking. He always prided himself on remaining cool, confident, composed. Now, the host felt as if all of his efforts meant nothing. He sighed, shifting his weight back on his heels and smoothing out his hair. Damon looked around, noticing that Audric had quietly slipped off during his very tense reflections. The board meeting had gone anything but as expected. Dukes walked over to a corner shelf, picking up the phone and dialing the extension for the control room.

“Took you long enough,” Audric’s voice said immediately.

“Time for a little improvisation,” Damon instructed firmly. “Send in the Eliminators. All of them.”

-----

PRESENT TIME…

Alexander, Ashe, Sage, and Sophia all felt the familiar pull of teleportation as they were shifted away from their present location. This time, they weren’t even granted the leisurely warning of a collar beep. The backdrop of the city blurred, some features changing, some remaining the same. They realized that they were still stuck inside the City Sector, but no longer where they found themselves before.

“I’m definitely not going to miss that,” Ashe said, looking around.

“This is new. Why did they teleport four of us together?” Sophia inquired.

“I-I d-don’t like this,” Sage stuttered.

Trafford said nothing, but his hands surreptitiously strayed close to his pistols.

Suddenly, again without any prior warning, a field of energy shot from their collars, surrounding them in a stasis bubble, as if they were in a final battle.

“You’re the only four left!” somebody hollered.

All four of them simultaneously looked to the top of a drugstore building. A figured leapt up, tucked into a roll, and fell to the ground with the grace of a diver, landing dramatically in a crouch. The one who stood was none other than Hollywood. He flashed a pearly white grin, peering at them with his baby blues from behind designer shades.

“You are the last ones standing,” he chuckled, chewing obnoxiously on some gum.

“Yeah!” somebody else laughed. The group’s attention was redirected as the enormous saiyan Vale Dura lumbered in from around a corner, smashing a chunk out of the brick building with his fist. “The rest are all dead.”

“But do not mourn for them, for some of you will be joining them soon, no?” a sultry voice crooned. The quartet whirled around, noticing a man in armor smelling a rose perched between his middle and index finger. Pierre picked Sage out and gave her a knowing wink, which immediately caused the girl to recoil in disgust and confusion.

From out of the sky, a green giant descended and smashed down into the concrete, causing a spider-web of cracks to break along the pavement. A towering namekian known as Caracol stood to his full, impressive height, simultaneously folding his tree-trunks-for-arms over his barreled chest. He uttered nothing but a growl of authority.

Trafford whipped out his pistols and trained them on two of the eliminators, but turned his wrists up in submission when he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his skull.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kristanna warned politely. She looked at Ashe, who appeared surprised to see the android there.

“So what, you’re just going to kill us all, then?” Sophia demanded. “After everything we’ve been through? I’ve had enough!”

“No, we’re not going to kill you,” Hollywood laughed. He brought his arms up grandly. “We are the ringmasters of the main event.”

“You’re all going to fight, four on four!” Vale Dura bellowed happily.

Alexander seemed indifferent to this proclamation, but the three girls were exchanging looks.

“And if you don’t fight, then we’ll kill you,” Ray Norris added.

“Don’t forget what you’re fighting for,” Kristanna stated.

With that, the five of them moved faster than eyes could track, surrounding the four of them in a circle.

“BEGIN!”

[DA 2009]

FIVE HOURS AGO…

“Are you ready?” Damon asked.

Audric spritzed his mouth with a spray of peppermint breath freshener. “I was born ready!”

The supervisor then straightened his tie. He had changed from his normal wardrobe to black slacks, white dress shirt, black vest, and black tie. His hair, of course, was still much in his mohawk fashion, but he’d already argued that it was his “natural hairstyle” and trying to change it would make him look ridiculous. It also “complimented the elf ears,” he’d added.

“You could have at least worn a jacket. This isn’t junior prom.”

“Whatever, I look good,” Audric retorted. “Besides, I’m a programmer, not a wind-up executive in a penguin suit. Relax, Damon, it’ll go fine.” He gave his boss a hearty slap on the back.

“Don’t touch me,” Dukes threatened instantly, not even bothering to break his gaze from the empty conference room.

“Right,” Audric said, withdrawing his arm.

Damon put on his political face. “Don’t forget to smile.”

Audric forced a very cheesy and very unnatural grin.

The holograms materialized, and the third roasting of the Dante’s Abyss program began. Before the host could even rattle off his smooth and elegant greeting, a board member cut him off.

“You better have something good for us this time, Damon. We rarely review a developmental project a third time, and there will not be a fourth.”

“Absolutely. The board has been most generous, and I sincerely appreciate it,” Dukes nodded. With a grand gesture, he began his third foray into the dragon’s lair. “Enough of the tournament has passed in order to evaluate what we in the Research and Development Department like to refer to as ‘Progression and Promise.’ These two stages are absolutely key for the future of any project that our workers undertake. In my previous presentation, my main point of focus was to highlight the ‘Promise’ of the selected candidates in order to put the program in perspective. However, singular moments failed to encapsulate the full effect and did not show any of the ‘Progression.’ I can certainly see how it was not effective. First, let me take you back to the beginning. My technical supervisor, Audric, has prepared an impressive demonstration of the program’s capabilities and why you should use a simulation versus an actual, physical reality.”

Damon gestured towards Audric and stepped back with a little bow. Despite the verbal and physical cue, Audric stood frozen in place with his cheesy little grin.

“Audric?” Damon prompted politely.

“Yes?” the supervisor squeaked through his teeth.

“Please begin your demonstration,” Dukes chuckled good-naturedly, giving him a light pat on the back.

“Okay!” he replied in an overly loud volume. He twitched in embarrassment and cleared his throat. “Wow is it loud in here or is it just me?” Audric laughed nervously. “I’m uh, I’m Audric and I’ll be tonight’s entertainment!” His enthusiastic joke was met with silence and impatient glares. “Okayyyy.”

He pulled a remote from his pocket and hit a button, and a panel of the back wall slid upwards, a mechanism pushing out a giant monitor. It seemed very few places in the compound didn’t contain a hidden television of some kind. Audric set down the remote and perched a portable control panel upon his fingertips, balancing it carefully. He punched in a quick sequence of keys and his visual display began.

“Okay, uh, what you are seeing now is a simulation of a simulation,” Audric explained. “This is the machine that we insert the contestants in. For all intents and purposes, it’s the perfect virtual reality that would give even the Wachowski brothers a hard on.” Nobody laughed. “Not that any of you would know who they are, but! The code that Damon got hold of in R&D was a basic model of what we used here. The premise of that program was on the power of belief. Basically, if the people inside believe that their world is real, their mind makes it real. So, in theory, if the participants were to discover that they were within an in fact fake reality, they could rebel against it with the ‘power of belief,’ y’know, some ‘Heart of the Cards’ bullshit. They could theoretically hack the system with their mind and change the rules.”

He entered another string of numbers and letters, executing the signal to translate into the display as a figurative person demonstrating the “rebellion” he’d just described. Then, he hit another button and the video game man exploded.

“Not with my program!” Audric announced triumphantly. “The machine plugs itself directly into the nervous system, manipulating the player from a biological level. Chemicals and electrical impulses are carefully monitored and maintained. What they feel in the program, their body feels in real life, which is why they must be transitioned from their vegetative state in stasis to a medical facility for treatment.”

“Now, wait a moment, wouldn’t that be exactly the same as the regenerative process used to clone their bodies?” a board member protested.

“That procedure costs millions of zeni per body cloned,” Damon interrupted. “The treatment we provide is merely rest, relaxation, and standard outpatient procedure care.”

“The damage caused by the program is not permanent. See, when you get hurt, your brain sends electrical impulses through your body that tells you you’re in pain. The machine triggers those impulses when a corresponding action within the program occurs. It would be like you feel like you’re being stabbed, but you’re not actually being stabbed, see? Even if anyone was to figure out that they’re in a program, and not really on an island, it won’t affect how anything runs. They’re essentially…”

“…prisoners?” another board member supplied.

Audric paused a moment. “…I was going to say ‘hardwired.’”

“They’re no more ‘prisoners’ now than they have been in past incarnations,” Damon assured.

“So you’re telling us that whatever happens in the program happens outside the program, and vice versa?”

“Yes. The signals in the program’s coding trigger command lines in the machine, and command lines can be inputted remotely to affect both the program and the capsule. It’s a two-way feed,” Audric confirmed.

“And what, then, stops them from overpowering the machine? Not necessarily through mental stimulation, but through a physical rejection.”

Audric began another scenario on the display screen. “Not possible. We use a dampening device to prevent their ki from being used outside their physical bodies. Any trace elements of energy that leak out are absorbed by apparatuses placed inside the capsule.”

“So if you’re describing the perfect containment, why can’t we use any of our other players?”

“Because there’s a cap to the amount of energy that can be dampened,” Audric answered.

“A cap? I see. That would be a very good reason not to use the program in favor of a physical island. It seems it prevents us from finding the best candidates we possibly can.”

“No, no it doesn’t,” the technical supervisor disagreed, somewhat annoyed. “What you don’t seem to understand is the brilliance behind the program.”

“Audric,” Damon cautioned, holding an arm in front of him as if to restrain his subordinate.

“Then enlighten us,” one said dangerously.

“A fighter’s energy is measured by a unit called a power level. The higher unit, the higher concentration of energy, or ki, the fighter has. The fighters you’ve all selected have astronomical power levels. The scientific community classifies them by letter: D, C, B, A, and S is the strongest. ‘S Class’ has the ability to blow up planets; they’re like, gods or something. Those old fighters are ‘A Class,’ one step below that, and only getting stronger. Pretty soon, they’ll be beyond your ability to ‘contain’ on that little terraformation of yours, and they’ll take the whole damn planet with you.”

“What my colleague means is that Dante has to constantly redesign the program to conform to our previous competitors’ exponentially growing strength,” Damon interjected. “The fighters we have were ranged from Class C to Class B. Think of it as ‘getting in on the ground floor.’”

“How’s that?”

“The program learns,” Audric grinned. “Now, it’s not self-aware, because I don’t want to deal with a rogue A.I. running around all over the place, but there’s a repair function within the coding that identifies problems or shortcomings within the protocols, and recommends a replacement sequence to be manually entered. When a muscle microtears, the body repairs itself so that the muscle never microtears the same way again. That’s how we get stronger, and that’s how the program gets stronger. With careful monitoring and maintenance from yours truly, the program can adapt itself to the players. In short, our…er, Damon’s…version of Dante’s Abyss will grow with the contestants, efficiently cost-effective and evolves in strength as they do.”

“In short, ladies and gentlemen, we select candidates who are weaker, and as they get stronger, so do we, creating a perfect containment solution. These warriors will eventually become as strong as the old ones, and the program by then will be perfectly adapted to their individual organic or inorganic make-ups,” Damon concluded. “But that’s not everything.”

Audric stood back, letting Damon take center stage.

[DA 2009]

FIVE HOURS AGO…

“Syntex operates mainly on reputation. It is my goal to revive that reputation. The last few years, our company has become another producer of the mainstream media. Our tournament, which is the cornerstone of Syntex, has devolved into ratings and cameras. I seek to bring it back to what it is, bring it back to the beginning,” Damon explained passionately. “Everything will evolve as one: the program, the tournament, and the competitors within. Observe.”

Audric initiated a new display, one that showed Sage at the very beginning of the tournament.

“We have four players left, with Dr. Roberts being one of them. Dr. Roberts is a willing player, an excellent example of how the Abyss affects the mind. In five short rounds, Dr. Roberts has gone from this…”

The girl stuttered on screen, afraid of her own shadow as the noises of invisible actions permeated the City Sector.

“…to this.”

The clip changed, showing Sage tearing up the forest in blind rage to find Belle, hunting Mal Nova with her powers of ice, and cutting her last two opponents down in brutal fashion.

“A helpless little girl abandons her own proclamation not to use her powers in favor of revenge, and cuts down three of her five opponents in the process. Sage is like a nuclear bomb with a broken trigger, the very epitome of a competitor’s potential,” Damon narrated.”

Audric set up another display, this one showing Trafford calmly walking around with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

“Alexander Trafford, one of our more special cases. He is sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll in a designer suit, the result of an experiment in ki engineering with decidedly mixed results. Fortunately for us, his capabilities are quite destructive.”

The scene changed to Trafford firing a barrage of psychokinetically charged bullets with a smirk on his face, and then centered on his manipulation of environments, showing him creating a storm of snow, an exploding minefield in the mountain, and nearly sending up the entire coliseum in smoke. Some clips of him showing emotional breakdowns interspersed with the demolition.

“His psyche is somewhat delicate as a result of emotional trauma. Almost anything will set him off, and when it happens, he puts on a pretty good light show. Mr. Trafford could typically be found on the streets, wasting his talent doing parlor tricks like juggling without using his hands. Put someone like him in the right environment, and you are guaranteed fireworks.”

The focus on Alexander vanished, replaced instead by Sophia talking cheerfully with her friends.

“Sophia Rosado, who suffered a recent and unfortunate demise. We temporarily brought her back after we cut a deal with an Earth witch,” Damon continued matter-of-factly.

The mood whiplashed back and forth between Sophia acting kindly, like building a snowman with a competitor, and then diving headfirst into a desperate battle for victory.

“Another competitor with amazing potential: filled with compassion, yet a mere touch of her hands can bring death to anyone who threatens her livelihood. Ms. Rosado helps round out the fold, a raw personality that is molded purely by environment and circumstance. She’s a competitor that when push comes to shove, when it comes down to her or the opponent, she will pick self-preservation every time. She lacks the necessary hostility to pull the trigger most of the time, but she won’t just lay down and die.”

Sophia was then replaced by Ashe, who alternately walking around by her lonesome talking to herself and hanging out with her friends in the bunkers.

“Ashelia “Ashe” Branford, average teenage human, attends school, works part-time…fairly ordinary.”

The display then prominently visualized her unusual and innovative efforts at evading her clearly superior opponents. While she had little combat ability to speak of, her ingenuity proved to be a shining trait.

“This competitor was more selected for traits other than combat ability…” Damon began.

“Yes, how did this young lady with no remarkable talent whatsoever make it all the way through this tournament?” a board member interrupted.

“Hacks, sir,” Audric answered before Dukes had a chance to feed a smooth reply. “We believe that somehow this girl cheated the system.”

Josh Drake stifled a laugh, attempting to discreetly cover his growing smile with his hand. Damon was not so amused. He craned his head slowly to glare at Audric, eyes conveying so much more than what could be expressed with words. Audric caught the venomous stare, and suddenly became overly fascinated with a panel of the wall.

“You have some great wood here. Very nice-looking craftsmanship. What is that, oak?” the technical supervisor mused.

Damon turned back to the council, who found no humor in the joke. “My apologies. He doesn’t get out much,” the host laughed airily. He then cleared his throat. “As I was saying, there were some competitors that were allowed because of the effect they would have on the group as a whole. It’s part of our composition theory that a diverse arrangement of personality and psychological profiles will yield stronger results in the end. And I can assure you, this girl did not cheat; she merely uses brain over brawn, which is a perfectly applicable tactic in a fighting tournament.”

Audric turned off the display, signaling the near end of the presentation.

“Dr. Roberts and Mr. Trafford represent the upper half of our competitive scale, the aggressors. Ms. Rosado and Ms. Branford represent the lower half, the ones who are merely trying to survive. I have found through very careful research that chemistry and dynamics play a very important role in full immersion of a combat environment. You cannot have a homogenized collection of beings that fight simply for the sake of fighting. Reijin, Bra, Minoshia, Bujin…just to name a few, they would come to Dante’s Abyss purely for the sake of fighting, of competition. Lust for battle! Pit them on their desires, and they will fight harder than any participant we’ve ever had before. Sage fights because we can give her the location of a man she desperately wants dead. Alex fights because he seeks an absolution he believes he’ll find here. Sophia fights because we gave her the gift of life, and as soon as she’s killed, it will be taken away. Ashe fights because she has a power that she doesn’t know how to use. Give them something they want, or take away something they need, and you will get better results than those who fight for the love of it,” Damon concluded.

“…and if we let you continue this program, how can you guarantee these results you boast?”

“Because these competitors are under contractual obligations to return in the instance of my program’s institution. Whether they realize it or not, they are being primed for continual reinsertion into the virtual reality. They will accept the tournament and its implications far more readily a second time. Once you enter the Abyss, you’re never the same again.”

“Will you be able to continue your work in Research and Development?”

“I’ve integrated the resources of my department into this project. My Research and Development team contributed several of our test products for the design of this program. As an example, we used experimental fuel cells, which cut the cost of power to run the entire system by 72 percent. They are also fully recyclable, which complies with the standards of the government’s environmental committee.”

A heart-hammering pause ensued. There was nothing left to say. Damon fell silent, and Audric looked nervously around the room. Josh finally nodded to the rest of his colleagues and delivered their consensus.

“Mr. Dukes, we find your project to be lacking to our company’s standards and therefore have compiled a list of mandatory changes we would like to see made in order to consider it a viable format of our reputable and highly profitable Dante’s Abyss tournament,” Drake stated.

A fax machine near the telephone began to print out several pages of the board’s reviews.

“We also demand that you accelerate the conclusion of this tournament, as its execution was poorly timed with the carefully planned corporate schedule of Syntex. We need to see how the final four competitors will ultimately perform, and such a performance will be indicative of the program’s overall success,” Josh concluded. “That is all. You are dismissed.”

One by one, the holograms dematerialized, some of their faces plastered with smirks as they left. Damon suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“Fuck,” Audric cursed. “How do we fix this? Damon? Damon!”

But Dukes’s eyes glazed over and he was completely unresponsive. Audric shuffled the faxed papers together and plopped them on the end of the conference table within his boss’s reach.

“You’re the man in charge here. You figure it out or we’re both screwed.”

It didn’t matter. Damon couldn’t hear anything in his daze.

-----

FOUR HOURS AGO…

Damon stared into nothingness, fingertips pressed hard against the smooth, polished surface of the conference table. The host had long since read through the stack of papers in front of him. The last few hours played on a loop in his mind, over and over again. Everything progressed so well, but how did it come to this? Up until now, very little could shake Dukes as soundly as this undertaking. He always prided himself on remaining cool, confident, composed. Now, the host felt as if all of his efforts meant nothing. He sighed, shifting his weight back on his heels and smoothing out his hair. Damon looked around, noticing that Audric had quietly slipped off during his very tense reflections. The board meeting had gone anything but as expected. Dukes walked over to a corner shelf, picking up the phone and dialing the extension for the control room.

“Took you long enough,” Audric’s voice said immediately.

“Time for a little improvisation,” Damon instructed firmly. “Send in the Eliminators. All of them.”

[DA 2009]

PRESENT TIME…

Damon took one last sip from his wine glass, watching as the finale began to unfold. Thus far, no fighting had commenced. His Eliminators ringed them, completely invincible with their new modifications. Alexander Trafford had already tried hitting them with his trusty Desert Eagles, to no avail. Unfortunately, that remained the extent of his grand conclusion, the one that was supposed to be “indicative of the program’s success.” Instead, Sage spewed out cinematic poetry of a childhood trauma…not exactly what he was looking for.

“Are all the preparations complete, Audric?” he asked coolly.

“Just call me the master of improv,” the techie replied. He had long since changed out of his “penguin suit” and resumed his normal attire, headgear and visor and all. “You sure you want to do this, Damon?”

Damon chuckled, setting his wine glass back on the table. “Absolutely.”

“I don’t see how it’s going to help,” Audric shrugged, typing away.

“You do computers, I do the planning,” Dukes retorted. “The Eliminators will do their jobs and I will take care of the rest.”

-----

THREE HOURS AGO…

“Never had an employer personally deliver the check before,” Hollywood remarked as he examined piece of paper pressed between his fingertips.

“I’m not your typical employer,” Damon said. “I compensate properly for a job well done.”

“I think that those of us who participated more than others should be compensated more, no?” Pierre smiled slyly. He gestured towards the ever-silent Caracol. “This monstrosity, for example, did not fight at all, yet he is getting equal pay? Ridicule, je dis!”

Caracol leaned over and growled warningly, his massive frame completely dwarfing the faux Frenchman. Pierre immediately shrank back.

“Which I think is a personally wonderful idea! I’m glad I thought of it!” he added nervously.

The namek straightened back up.

“I don’t want any money,” Vale Dura grumbled. “I want to go back in there and fight. That little wimpy redhead just got lucky, that’s all. I completely had him beat! Why can’t we go back in and fight?”

“Because the job is over, you Neanderthal,” Hollywood sniped.

Damon raised a hand, interrupting their squabble. “Actually, I have one more assignment for you. I’ll even add a little bonus to those checks of yours.”

Hollywood lowered his sunglasses, giving the host an appraising look. “What kind of assignment?”

“Oui. And how much zeni are we talking?” Pierre chimed in.

“I’ll communicate all the details once you’re reinserted. We have a few upgrades we need to make to your programming first,” Damon replied.

The four Eliminators agreed, and the host nodded his satisfaction as the medical team began to prep them for reinsertion into the machine. As Dukes left, he pulled a medic aside and spoke as discreetly as possible, pointing towards Pierre.

“By the way, don’t let that man near Dr. Roberts’ capsule,” he instructed firmly.

The medic, slightly confused, nodded.

-----

PRESENT TIME…

“Oh, and Audric, have you located our friend yet?” Damon asked.

“Yes I have. He should be on his way right now courtesy of Syntex escort. I don’t think he’ll be too happy about it, especially after we promised to let him go,” Audric chuckled. “After all, he did end up literally eating a bullet.”

“I’m sure he’ll be much more forgiving when he arrives. He must not be late. I do have more than one promise to keep, after all,” Damon smiled wrly. “Incidentally, speaking of promises, we should be expecting Josh Drake at any moment.”

“WhhhAT?” Audric promptly recoiled.

“Don’t you remember? He promised he would bring us a six-pack and watch a Combat Day with us. This being the last fight, I expect he’ll be here very soon.”

“But I hate him. He touched my console and he’s weird,” Audric whined.

Dukes couldn’t help but snicker. “I think the two of you are more alike than you realize.”

Audric whirled around, his face screwed up in frustration and his index finger jabbed in the air like a sword. “Don’t you ever compare the two of us! I am leet, he is nub!”

“A ‘nub’ that bypassed your security system and had the whole program independently inspected,” Damon pointed out.

Audric’s fiery conviction wavered for a split second. “No he didn’t.”

“Check your logs.”

Audric pulled up a separate command line and brought up the system security checks, as well as access logs and entry protocols. Damon patiently waited, and the typing suddenly stopped as the technical supervisor froze completely still.

“Well?” Dukes prompted.

“This must be what it feels like…” Audric said differently.

“I beg your pardon?”

Audric repeated himself, his voice steadily rising in volume. “This must be what it feels like to be RAPED! Who could possibly be so depraved as to violate my system!? A man’s console is sacred! SACRED! And he just soiled it with his filthy team of nubs that probably think you can hack an IP!”

“Audric! I have one more task for you to do before Josh gets here!” Damon ordered over the violent raging.

“Yesssss?” Audric hissed through forcibly clenched teeth.

“Dose them. I can’t take any chances and they’re not fighting. A little adrenaline should help them along.”

“How much?” the techie asked grudgingly.

“Enough to get the blood pumping,” Damon instructed.

Audric complied, muttering random death threats to himself as he signaled the capsules to feed large doses of endorphins and adrenaline into the dormant bodies of the four remaining competitors. Almost as soon as he hit the ‘Execute’ button, did a large knock bang on the wall.

“Party over here!” somebody hollered behind the door.

Audric whirled around, tightly wielding a plastic take-out fork in his hand. “Don’t you let him in or I will stab you!”

Damon glanced over at the door, his eyes narrowing. With a fateful push of a button, the door to the control room slid open.

-----

TWO HOURS, TWENTY MINUTES AGO…

“Here is your check, Kristanna,” Damon said politely, handing over the slip of paper.

Kristanna took it between her energy-cuffed hands, a frosty glare in her eyes. She glanced up to the two Syntex goons flanking her.

“A security precaution,” Dukes smiled. “You understand. We ended our arrangement on such unpleasant terms. You disappointed me, you know; you came so highly recommended.”

The guards released her from her bondage, and the cuffs clattered harmlessly to the floor. She brushed past Damon, who had stood almost dangerously close to her. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Dukes.”

Damon’s smile widened, waiting for her to get halfway down the hall before adding, “Oh, by the way: be sure to send me a copy of that lovely report of yours.”

He could almost hear the trap close as her footsteps suddenly stopped. The host turned around as she did, and the teenaged android analyzed him for a moment, taking her time as she responded, “I don’t know what you mean.” She flashed him a sarcastic smirk.

Damon began to punctuate his words with his hands, walking ever so slowly towards his quarry. “At first, I thought you were hired by Josh Drake as part of his independent inspection. Josh likes to circumvent the board sometimes and do things his own way. But why, then, would he bring a Kajin Ralan detective sniffing around the company?”

Kristanna folded her arms under her breasts, somewhat amused by the sudden interrogation.

“Then I realized it wasn’t Josh Drake at all. No, it was somebody else. Somebody who wants me out…somebody who slipped up,” Damon concluded, now mere inches away from the android. “Too bad they had to send you.”

“Mr. Dukes, I will be more than happy to send you a copy of my report. I think you’ll be very pleased with the results,” Kristanna taunted, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m sure I will. Tell me, how did a little reject science project like yourself end up on one of the most prominent police forces in the galaxy?” Damon whispered.

The girl’s face went blank. “How did you know that?”

“I know everything,” the host grinned.

“Those records are supposed to be sealed,” she said, her tone betraying a hint of hostility.

“There’s no such thing in my world. My dear Kristanna, if I can figure out the identities of two princesses who have not yet even been born in this timeline, then a little background check on an officer of the law shouldn’t be too difficult,” Damon explained confidently.

Kristanna gave him an up and down glance, visually noting the close proximity between the two. “It’s a federal offense to open up a sealed record on Kajin Rala. Did you know it’s also a federal offense to physically or verbally threaten an officer of the law?”

“No, this isn’t a physical threat. This is sexual harassment,” Dukes corrected. “Perhaps you missed that class while your very exquisite body was being soldered to a tin can.”

“I would watch your mouth if I was you,” the undercover agent warned.

“Or what? You’ll report me with the recording device implanted in your cybernetics?” Damon produced a thin chip from his pocket, an action that elicited an expression of surprise from the android. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

“You’re scum, Dukes,” Kristanna snarled. “And I’m going to take you down.”

“I am not scum,” he growled dangerously. “I want what I earned, and you’re going to help me get it. You want a Syntex employee’s head on a plate. It’s not going to be mine; I’m too good for you to keep up, little girl. You’re a headhunter, and I’m going to give you a head, but you have to do something in return for me.”

“And what exactly is that?”

Damon’s face returned to a pleasant, yet arrogant smile as he pulled a strand of her hair back with his thumb. “I need you to go back into the machine.”

[DA 2009]

“Did you see that?!” Josh gasped. He wrapped an arm around Audric’s neck and began to shake him violently in excitement. The technical supervisor whiplashed from side to side, his head bobbing freely like a cork in a maelstrom. The chairmen then released his grip and clapped his hands loudly, cheering in unbridled enthusiasm. “Man that was exciting! Aren’t you excited?!”

“I feel like I just experienced shaken baby syndrome,” Audric replied woozily.

Josh scoffed and waved it off. “Oh come on, you’re fine!”

He gave the techie a hearty slap on the back, and the dizzied Audric fell out of his chair.

“Oops,” Josh said, giving a look of embarrassment and empathy.

-----

Ashe hummed merrily to herself as she scraped her fork against the plate, scooping up the last bits of jellied filling from the demolished slice of pie and depositing it into her mouth. The student sighed in pure bliss.

“Shall I help myself to another piece? Maybe some cake?” she mused humorously to herself. “Why, I think I will.”

She twirled around with plate in hand towards the table, fancying herself a large slice of double chocolate cake with sprinkles. It would require a large glass of punch, and she selected one mixed with ginger ale and lemon-lime soda. The girl did not notice the two lumbering Syntex guards as they approached behind her. She balanced the plate in her hand and grabbed her juice cup and whirled around, slamming right into the firmly toned torsos of the sentries. The cake plate flipped backwards and smashed all over Ashe’s outfit, and the juice cup splattered its contents all over herself and the floor.

“Dude!” Ashe protested angrily, now covered with punch and chocolate frosting. She looked straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed, and saw nothing but muscle covered by a black T-shirt. Her irritated expression melted into one of nervousness as she looked up, up, up, staring straight into two ugly mugs of corporate goons. “Uhhh…hi?”

“Ashe Branford,” one of them rumbled. “You have been eliminated from competition, but your role in this tournament is not yet over. You are to come with us, now.”

“Are you kidding me? No way, I am so out of here!” the student protested. She attempted to break through the wall of the pair. “I think I’ll just, uh, be going now, and uh, thank you for the punch and pie, but I really…”

She let out a surprised squeal as one of the guards wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her under his armpit like she was nothing but a rag doll.

“You don’t have a choice,” the other grunted.

They turned around and began to walk out of the room.

“Hey, HEY!” Ashe growled. She beat her fists uselessly against her captor’s back. “Put me down! Put me down now!”

He ignored her, and the girl kicked her legs like a child with a tantrum.

“Hey Donkey Kong, do I look like Princess Pauline to you? NOOO!” Ashe insulted, her head shaking and her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Alas, nothing she did proved effective as the guards whisked her away to a fearful and unknown location.

[DA 2009]

Audric leaned back and let out a sigh of exhaustion.

“Well, that’s that, I guess,” he grinned. He leaned back in his chair lacing his hands together and folding them beneath the back of his head. “The tournament is over.”

Josh nodded. He grabbed his jacket off the back of another chair and threw it over his shoulders, one arm through after the other. “Yep, that’s that,” the chairman agreed. “Terminate the program and vacate the facility.”

Audric cocked an eyebrow. He glanced at the screen to check its status before turning his gaze on Drake. “But Damon’s still inside. I can’t shut it down now. And what about the two players still hooked up to the machine?”

Josh flashed him an eerie smile. “Just a friendly suggestion.”

Audric’s eyes narrowed as Josh Drake waved good-bye and walked out the door.

-----

Sage sat completely frozen in the snow. Time’s passage held no meaning, and she didn’t even realize that both her and Alexander’s body were now coated in a thick layer of snow. The temperature didn’t bother her, so why should she notice? She didn’t notice the crunching noise of approaching footsteps, either. They began faintly at first, and then steadily rose in volume as they grew closer. The girl’s eyes widened from their dull stare, and she turned around to see none other than Damon Dukes.

“So, I see you are the winner,” he commented softly, placing his hands casually in his trouser pockets.

Even her burning hatred for the man responsible could not overcome the numbness she felt within. It was as if some part of her was broken.

“I know you blame me for this,” Damon began. “And, to some extent, I am at fault. But I have come to know you well enough that you realize that these actions were also of your own doing.”

“Did you come here just to tell me that?” Sage demanded, her voice distant.

“No, I did not,” Dukes smiled sadly. He too, had the aura of a man broken. “I came here to congratulate you and to rightfully give you what was promised.”

He pulled a small device from his pocket and raised it in front of him for her to see. She looked at it, uncomprehending. The host then stepped forward a little, holding it out for her to grab it. She took it, quelling the desire to incite violence against the enabler of her sins. Hadn’t enough people died? Sage examined it carefully, seeing a galaxial map of some sort with a faint pinging dot.

“It’s a tracking device. It will lead you directly to Sol,” Damon stated.

Sage’s eyes grew visibly intense.

“It won’t last for very long. I was able to have him tracked down, but, I only compensated my resources so much for their efforts. When the money runs out, the signal dies. I suggest you take advantage of it while it is there.”

“Then let me out of here,” she said.

“Certainly,” the host obliged. “One more thing, however.”

She didn’t dare break her concentration as she burned the location of the ping deep in her memory banks.

“They’re alive.”

A thick, heavy pause ensued.

“Wh…what?” Sage breathed slowly.

“Everyone who died is alive,” Damon repeated slowly, calmly.

Another pause.

“You…you made me think…you mean they were alive this whole time?” She leapt up, the locater in one hand, and her other hand clenched tightly into a white-knuckled fist. “H-how dare you? How dare you do that to me!”

Damon’s eyes wandered to the surrounding area, detecting a perceptibly sudden flare in the amount of snow swirling around them. His stared then returned to the ice witch. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked casually.

After a moment, she answered, “You’re…not the one who matters.”

Now that she knew that no act she committed retained permanent consequences, the heavy burden of guilt lifted from her frail shoulders. Besides, it wouldn’t have made her feel any better to add another life to the list of the slain. Damon simply nodded.

“Good luck, and, for what it’s worth, thank you,” Dukes replied. He closed his eyes and gave a wry smile. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Before Sage had a chance to reply, she was immediately ejected from the game.

-----

Audric tapped his fingers impatiently on the console. A choice had to be made. He mulled over the options in his head. He was just a lowly programmer, after all, not even worth the fall of the axe that the board would surely beset upon them. Why should he go down for what Damon did? Audric created the weapon, and he had used that weapon, but he hadn’t selected the players or forced them to come here. The technical supervisor was only doing his job, after all. He sat behind a keyboard. Would that prove worthy enough a crime to be blackballed by corporate?

He glanced at the screen, noticing that the status of Alexander Trafford and Sage switched to ‘disconnected.’ Only one player remained in the program. Audric sighed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He shook his head, growling before his fingers flew over the keyboard to initiate the sequence to remove Damon Dukes from the machine.

That is, of course, until he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press against the back of his head.

“By order of the Kajin Rala intergalactic police agency, you are under arrest,” a distinctly feminine voice stated.

Audric froze, a sour grin playing on his lips. He let out a chuckle as he obediently raised his hands. So this is what Josh had warned him about.

“Kristanna, isn’t it?” Audric guessed.

“That’s right,” the android confirmed.

“I was wondering what happened to you after you killed Ashe. You suddenly disappeared from my tracking module,” the supervisor observed. “Last I heard, you were fired. So why go back into the game and execute a helpless teenage girl? I read your profile. You know, the confidential one? Her parents put you back together after you went boom. And you murdered their little girl. That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“She’ll be alright,” Kristanna assured. “I’ll make sure she’s okay. I helped out your boss one last time in exchange for some confidential files of my own. That’s right. I’ve got a lock on you and a couple members of your board.”

Audric’s smile disappeared, replaced by an ugly frown. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. He turned you in. Now, I suggest coming with me quietly, because I am authorized to kill. You saw me in action in the tournament, you know what I can do.”

“Sure,” Audric replied agreeably. “Just let me take care of one last thing.”

Before Kristanna could stop him, Audric’s finger slammed on the emergency shutdown button.

-----

Damon casually strolled into the Arctic Sector bunker, approaching the panel that allowed players to eject themselves from the program. His coding wasn’t located in a collar, as he didn’t wear one, but his avatar had been designed with a similar sequence. Just as he reached out to hit the final key, his hand fizzled and faded, like static from bad television reception. His eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment, and then a smile crept on his face as he realized what was happening.

“Sorry Audric, not fast enough,” he grinned. “King takes pawn.”

With his good hand, he slammed the button, escaping just as the world around him crashed.

-----

The host entered the empty conference room, fully recovered and completely unharmed. He traced his fingers along the oak table, until he reached the end chair, the one normally occupied by Josh Drake. Damon Dukes smiled, pulling the chair out and placing himself on the seat. He leaned backwards, and couldn’t help but laugh.