"Great." Finwa sounds unimpressed but she no longer acts in fear of the competition but almost as one who has resigned herself to the fates. Of all things she was not good at, one was creating anything to do with clothing. She had the basic skill but it never worked out for her.
But now Alexander was in an excited state and she smiled about that until a deathly hand touched her shoulder. Fear almost made her scream but instead what escaped was a yelp. Her long ears flopped downwards as she turned her head to the side, looking onto the Cthulian caller with a sense of concern.
What have I secured? Bryn did not want me near him, giving my blood to him but now he offers me this?
This was too easy for the monk with the state the little being was in at this time. Frantic fear and curiosity warred with each other in her mind. It was so hard to think right. So hard to fight back the want for some sense of security. Her life was already torn assunder only days before but this... could this help or tear the last bits of her to shreds?
"Sanity is a figment of the imagination." She whimpered, caught in the gaze Murder Monk put her in. She gulped while trying to get her voice but it came out in a wavery whisper, "You know how I feel. Please do not tease me. I lost all only days ago and now lost chances that I found within hours of coming here. I do not want to see anything painful if that is your wish. What I have of control is thin as it is."
"We should make a soup out of that! It sounds delicious."
Given a few moments, the throwing cows all become tanning cows. Watching intently as their hides become leather, Alexander offers them some positive reinforcement.
The metric ton or so of beef and bone that should be there is nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, Aaron comes back into an awareness of himself. He'd been drooling, and his hand hurt. There was a distinct gash across the fleshy part at the base of his thumb and his fingernails had cut lines into his palms. Something important had happened, he knew it. There was blood... a lot of blood. And people were missing. And the rifle was in his lap, the dried blood smeared on the KILL'EM DEAD logo a sharp contrast to the gleaming chrome of the rest of the weapon.
Every time he tried to think back on what had happened he got a little nauseous- his heart beat faster and tremors ran down his spine. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. Best not to dwell on it.
So. Fashion design. Aaron knew his way around a needle and thread but the fine art of tailoring and assembling a garment from scratch was completely beyond him... he decided to seek allies.
"Does anyone need a model? I'm rubbish with a sewing machine but I'm sure the viewers will agree that I can fill out a suit just fine..."
Charlene's "leadership" had left three people dead, and only a criminal with an itchy trigger finger had taken one of the robots out of the deathmatch... Aaron fully intended to vote her out unless she had one hell of a showing in the fashion show. Finwa seemed harmless enough he figured she might as well have her 15 minutes in the spotlight... she could hardly do a worse job than the others already had.
As the round drags on, Alexander begins to pound on the cow hides with his fists, adjusting them to some kind of specifications known only to him. Strangely enough, by now they appear to have been cured, a task that would have taken an ordinary man far longer than the game allowed him to accomplish. Apparently satisfied by this development, he tears the hides from the tanning rack and tosses them onto a nearby table.
"I hate to admit it woman, but Quasimodo here is right," he says as he pulls out a knife and starts to cut patterns out of the hides, "I thought I'd throw you a bone, but your leadership didn't do us squat. Even your lackey would be better suited for the job." Procuring a thick, curved needle and a bundle of cord, he starts to stitch the pieces together.
Charlene sits at a serger, furiously stitching pieces of satin and organza together into some sort of creation.
"I've freely admitted that my round was a disaster. However, I would like to point out several things. First, the voting is NOT for the least popular person or even the most disliked. It is for somebody we think is a Killer Robot. Maybe I made mistakes, but at least I attempted some leadership, unlike the others. I tried to get people to participate and show that they were not robots. Mistakes, sure. But to err is human - not robotic. I am no robot!"
She lays out the cloth and cuts it into strange, abstract forms before joining them together and serging the edges.
"Second, I'd like to point out that several contestants here have made no attempts at the talent sections of the contest? Why? Because they have no talent besides killing! I would vote for one of those for lynching, not for a human!"
She stitches a long, long piece rectangular piece of peach satin into some sort of a band, then pulls a thread, shirring one edge.
"Third, let me remind you that we humans are very down in the results and there is no way for those of us who remain to gain information. All the clever people are dead. Do not vote lightly this round. Use your wits. Though you have voted for me, I am not voting for either of you, but rather for somebody I believe to be a robot, based on its lack of talent. I urge you to do the same. I'm not even voting for the person who caused half of the deaths, because I believe him to be human. Or at least something that can possibly pass for human. Definitely not a robot."
She whips the pale orange pieces together and approaches the mech pilot. "I believe you volunteered to be a model, Mr. Lockley? Well, I need one. Hold still."
She begins draping satin and organza over the dazed man, binding it all with a lovely sash.
"Let me tell you a story. When I was studying accounting in college, I was short of money like all college students. I managed to find a job that involved sewing, a talent I never thought to use again. Unfortunately, it was at a bridal shop making bridesmaids dresses - hideously overwrought concoctions which flatter nobody in order to make the bride more lovely. And so, my offering. Ta-da!"
The pilot can now model the off-the-shoulder bridesmaid's dress with the satin bodice, empire waistline, full hoop organza skirt, and a frilled sash, all in lovely shades of peach with accents of pale yellow. She's right. It's hideous. But the mech pilot's trim and well muscled form can make anything look good. Mr. Lockley pulls it off.
Eldon, prepared to vote either Aaron or Alexander the loser, listens to Charlene's speech. As she finishes, he follows suit. "I guess I'll do what the boss wants to. 'sides, Aaron, you look..." Eldon can't help but clutching his stomache and laughing at the mech pilot, nearly falling to the ground.
Sweat begins to drip down Hamish's face as the accusations start to fly in his direction.
"Pleas you guys! I'm not a robot. I know I pretended to be one but I swear I'm not! I don't have any talent either. That's why I never participated in the competition. Have mercy on this innocent soul."
Since Murder Monk seems to be meditating, seeing something from his gods or whatever Finwa decides to go on with the contest before being disqualified for not doing anything. She figures that if Murder Monk truly wanted to show her something he would do so when he was ready.
The little lady decides on taking her chances on the contest for the clothing and starts working on it with a passion, her tongue sticking out a touch at the very front of her lips as she concentrates really hard doing the work. After some time she yelps loudly, pulls back from the machine then yells again, swearing in another language as she relases her thumb from the needle. She puts her injured thumb in her mouth and glares at the machine then suddenly kicks it, yelling and screaming at it calling it some rather imaginative names that would make sailors who knew many languages blush.
Finally she backs up, still glaring at the machine and yells, "ALEX MAXERSON! COME KILL THIS PLEASE!!!"
She grabs a regular needle and thread and sits down with frumpy ears and pouty face that makes her look like a curr which has just been beaten.
Finally Finwa stands up looking tired and worn with a small bundle that she brings over to Mittens' booth and puts it on a table, "This is for you and your puppet. The colours aren't great but I tried. Really I did but it just never comes out right for me."
The package is an outfit for Mittens and one for her puppet. Every second panel is sewn backwards to the other showing a dark colour for one then the same colour type in a lighter tone because the back of the material is lighter.
The outfit Finwa tried to make.
Finwa looks down at her feet, "I have to vote even if I don't want to. I guess we're no worse for the wear with Aaron Lockley." She says not even realizing the possible joke in that, "And for team loser ... I'm no good at this. I want to get rid of those who do not even try, as Charlene mentioned. The only reason for not trying is not caring if you live or die but just to have a few extra hours of taking in breath. Because of that I choose Alina Malain. I'm sorry. I don't know if you are a person or a bot but whatever."
"Argh! Only me mum called me Alex!" Alexander growls through grit teeth as he makes the final pull on the cord, before snapping it between his incisors. The finished product is a set of thick leather faulds, offering protection to the thighs and groin. Nonchalantly, he tosses it over to Aaron. "Throw that on as well! Your current dress is a disgrace!"
"Now what was it you wanted me to kill?" he asks Finwa impatiently, before setting his eyes on the sewing machine. "" he says, recognition coming to his eyes, "You thought you could get away from me, huh? Well you were wrong! Oh, what? Are you laughing at me? Huh? What, you don't think I'll do it? Are you kidding me? "
Dipping his head and charging forward with a bullrush, he dives forward, grappling the sewing machine as he falls to the floor. Its needle jabs back and forth menacingly, going for his eyes, but he simply plucks the point out and tosses it aside, before trapping it in a vice grip between his arm muscles. Flexing them slowly, the chassis of the sewing machine bends and snaps under the pressure, sending sparks flying and smoke billowing out of the machine.
"WANT ME TO STOP? THEN SAY "UNCLE"! SAY IT, DAMN IT!" he screams at it, before finally, the machine bursts into a ball of flames, reduced to a smoldering hunk of metal and plastic, "Well you can't now, can you!? YOU'RE SO DEAD."
After giving the gift over to Mittens, Finwa turns to Alexander and walks over to him putting up a hand and giving him big, emerald puppy dog eyes, "But I like you. Can't I call you Alex? Friends call each other nice names from their regular name don't they? You can be like a big brother for me. My own was kind of a creep. And thank you for killing that for me. I do appreciated it."
"Its not my time yet!"
Team Leader:
Finwa: 1 (Aaron Lockley)
Eldon Gorski: 1 (Charlene Oftenseen)
Charlene Oftenseen: 1 (Eldon Gorski)
Aaron Lockley: 1 (Finwa)
The Hollow: 1 (Hamish Cunningham)
"Well, time to find out who our team leader is. And it's me. Why? BECAUSE THESE MITTENS ARE ADORABLE!" The crowd goes wild. They eat this adorable stuff up, and Mittens raises her paws up in the air. "Though honourable mention goes to Finwa for her lovely and gracious gift, even though I don't know what puppet she is talking about, so give her a round of applause... hey, what's that?"
The camera zooms in on little Finwa, and there seems to be a grenade right underneath her feet, which explodes and sprays the tiny scientist in horrible gore. Mittens recoils away to not get any Finwa in her fur. "Eeeeyikes. Well, out of respect for the dead, I'm going to count her vote."
Charlene Oftenseen: 3 (Aaron Lockley, Alexander Maxerson, Hamish Cunningham)
Hamish Cunningham: 2 (Charlene Oftenseen, Eldon Gorski)
Alina Malain: 1 (Finwa)
"It looks like our former Team Leader's been turned against... it seems the competitors agree that she is a fashion failure!" The little helmet cat peers down as the spinning razors she wanted to use in round 1 start to spin. A gust of air from a giant fan blows Charlene Oftenseen into the razor teeth, grinding her away.
"And hey, because our ratings are so low we're liable to get cancelled..." A bottomless pit opens up underneath Cardon, sending him to join the horror that was sucked beneath, and then Mittens hovers a giant magnet over the gaming field which picks up Mattie and Alina Malain and then drops them, crushing their frames beneath the mass of the magnet. "May as well get this over with quick..."
"Next round, we have a competition to figure out what a good reality television round will be, since apparently mine leave people rather uninspired. Meta Reality Competition Round 5, begin!"
Living Contestants:
Aaron Lockley
Alexander Maxerson
Duke Leto Atredies
Eldon Gorski
Hamish Cunningham
Murder Monk
The Hollow
Roles left:
2 Deathbots
1 Itchy Trigger Finger
1 Heister
3 Criminals
"...friend?" The word sounded foreign on his tongue. Alexander had heard of this ritual of camaraderie before - this so-called 'friendship' - but only in the midst of the hippies whom he so desperately hated. He had resolved to hate it by association. And perhaps in retaliation, people learned to hate and fear him. Yet there she was, acknowledging him as a friend, a brother even.
Huh, maybe I shouldn't be so angry all the time. I mean, what is there even to be angry about? I don't have to yell at things, half of them aren't even capable of hearing me anyway. Maybe the hippies were right about that peace thing. Maybe it's time I settled down, got a real job, maybe even get married and have some brats of my own. I can owe it all to this woman, my first frie-
In an instant, Alexander was once again covered from head to toe in blood and gore, fleshy bits hanging off his body here and there. Quietly, he picks what he recognizes as Finwa's eyeball off his shoulder and drops it to the ground. Moments later he falls to his knees before the blood splatter and looks to the ceiling in vain, letting out the mightiest bellow he had ever summoned.
Charlene tries to catch hold of something, anything, to keep from going into the saw blades, but her grip slips and she slides into the pit, clawing desperately at the slick floor plates. Whatever she is urgently shouting is blown away by the industrial-sized fans just before she meets her end.
Her iPad screen glows. It displays what turns out to be a new Last Will and Testament, leaving all her earthly possessions to Mr. Eldon Gorski, on the condition that he is, in fact, human and not a killer robot.
Finwa smiles up at Mittens for the honourable mention then to Alexander, still holding her hand out to shake his when she looks down at the bomb at her feet, "Holy sugarcanes."
Mere moments into her speaking she feels her body blowing apart but it is only for a moment as her death is thankfully quick. The last things she thinks is that once more she's lost a friend but at least she would see the others now. Hopefully.
"I guess I'll do what the boss wants to. 'sides, Aaron, you look..."
"...magnificent. I know."
Aaron strides down the runway strikes a pose for the camera before the commercial break, then slumps down in shock after all the carnage is over. She wasn't a robot afterall- it had just been her bad luck to be leader at the time. He certainly knew how that went. Well, he'd honor her memory by seeing to her final votes...
Meta Reality Competition Round 5, begin
Still clad in the hideous peach gown, Aaron makes his pitch. "Mittens, you seem to have a thing for killer robots and overwrought drama... did you ever meet a military killbot operator? Those guys jack in for 7-day shifts living full VR sim interfaces where they go behind enemy lines and kill everything that moves, then go back home for 14 days of downtime. A bunch of adrenaline junkies with PTSD on vacation with nothing to do but train, sleep around, try to one-up each other. It's the sort of thing that I can imagine an audience that enjoys this," he waves to take in the whole Deathmatch arena, "watching raptly. What about you, goat-bot, what do you think would draw a crowd?"
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Duke Leto finishes his new robe, the darkness of the thing is incredible, the edging is done and looks like the tentacles of the creature that murder monk summoned, the capes hood though is even more disturbing as the visage looks like a terrifying nightmare creature.
"I am ready for a costume ball, shall we dance in the next round?"
Hamish's eyes grow big and teary.
"Mr. Lockley, What have I ever done to you?"
"I am ready for a costume ball, shall we dance in the next round?"
"You should see me Tap Dance. Hooves have a significant advantage on hard floors. Especially when you have 4 of them!"
"Boss? Boss?" Eldon looks on as Charlene is sent to her death. "That's not right. The boss is s'pposed to fire people, not get fired."
Suddenly, he turns, rage in his eyes. He points at Hamish. "I dunno why she wanted you out, but you are going to suffer!" Eldon moves towards Hamish, then turns to Mittens. "You wanna know what good television is? How about coming down here and watch as I beat a goat to death with a cat! Sound like fun? You'll have a front row seat, and your deathbots will follow! Anyone who helps gets my leader vote!"
Still huffing from his outburst, Alexander is brought back to his senses when he hears Eldon's voices. The rage in Eldon's voice kindles his own, bringing out another roar. The berserker stands and smashes his fists together, a bestial snarl on his lips. Someone would pay for Finwa's death, and if it couldn't be Mittens, then it would have to be the next best thing.
"My oh my, we are having lots of feelings right now! You people know that you'd all be dead by now if it weren't for me, right? I didn't /have/ to give you a chance. Ms. Oftenseen understood that. So did Finwa. So cut it out with the death threats... Unless you're looking right into the camera, people dig that." Mittens peers towards the competitors and says behind her, "Yeah, actually, did we get any close ups of that? Run it on the promo."
"Duke Leto, you'll believe me right? Hollow? You seem to have wisdom beyond theirs. Murder Monk, I voted you team leader. Please trust me, I'm no Robot!"
Rekstahl comes to his senses. The sheer staggering amount of death that has preceded this moment astounds him.
"Pointed. Wasted. Their deaths accomplished nothing," Rekstahl mutters almost in shock. ""
The evil cleric raises his hands to the heavens which he cannot see. The cold dark of space where the Great Old Ones dwelt was out there. He began to despair that he would be able to see the lovely vision of madness he knew he could bring the universe.
"I don't know what to believe in regards to who is trustworthy, but if Charlene really was Hired Muscle, then perhaps her insight was in fact best. While I myself will not vote for you, Goat, I will not stop the others from trusting their survival instincts."
The enigmatic darkness within the robe floats in silence for a while, then faces Hamish.
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"Duke Leto, you'll believe me right? Hollow? You seem to have wisdom beyond theirs. Murder Monk, I voted you team leader. Please trust me, I'm no Robot!"
"I believe perhaps like the one who hates some things that my mention of horns and your horns and the scars Upon Mr. Eldon have unduely associated you with his wounds, no blood sucking tentacle nor gapping shark mawed abomination from hell caused his injury. Perhaps he tangled with a larger billy goat gruff at some point in his life."
"Perhaps he can be swayed in your favor"
"I have done all that I can for you, do you have a request for my bagpipes upon your passing and release from either mortal or metal coils."
"Thankyou Friends, Thankyou!"
"Though your votes of leadership are welcoming I encourage you to place your confidence within another. I merely want to live to see the end. If I die than your votes will be wasted."
"I have done all that I can for you, do you have a request for my bagpipes upon your passing and release from either mortal or metal coils."
If it comes to that I'd hope that you'd play something happy and upbeat. Loss is such a difficult thing.
"Its not too late everybody! You can still save the innocent goat."
Team Leader:
Eldon Gorski: 2 (Aaron Lockley, Alexander Maxerson)
Hamish Cunningham: 2 (Duke Leto, The Hollow)
The Hollow: 1 (Hamish Cunningham)
"Well, looks like you were unable to pick a leader. Again. And since I can't be Team Leader twice in a row, that makes the pillar I'm standing on Team Leader. Congratulations to the pillar! You will be a better Team Leader than most of these people, myself excluded!" says Mittens from on high. The feline looks about.
Team Loser:
Hamish Cunningham: 3 (Aaron Lockley, Alexander Maxerson, Eldon Gorski)
Alexander Maxerson: 1 (Duke Leto)
Eldon Gorski: 1 (Hamish Cunningham)
"And now, Team Loser! For your lack of contributions of good ideas that can go on television, I sentence Hamish Cunningham to death!" An anvil, out of seemingly nowhere, falls down upon the goat. Gears and sparks fly everywhere. "Well, congratulations my clever criminals! You've found a killer robot!"
"And shame on you, last remaining robot! It seems everyone else is alive!" Mittens sighs and says, "Well, now it's a rather difficult position. Six left, and one robot. Will the Itchy Trigger Finger save the day after all? Will the robots destroy their enemies with perfect precision? Will the criminals come together in love and harmony, discovering the true power of friendship?"
The Hollow looks down at the shattered parts of the Hamishbot.
The hooded figure faces Leto.
The Hollow pauses for a while, then corrects itself,
As stray gears and springs bounce past him, Alexander grunts, more or less satisfied by the turn of events. Cracking his knuckles, he assesses those that remain.
"Y'know, if they replaced Hamish, and you were his friend, stands ta reason they might replace you too. 'cause the real you might catch on. I think I've got this figured out."
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"Mayhap I should have noticed, maybe these games are serving the purpose of distraction so that things that I might notice instead I am sewing a new cape like a seamstress or a grandmother. I say we skip the games and get down to the business of sorting what from what."
"Had we been drinking brandy and playing cards, where I could read the tells perhaps I would have known, but cooking and sewing like a demented home economics class, I can not be faulted."
"Actually, I forgot to mention that this round is a murdering competition. Who is the best at murdering? Let's find out..." says Mittens.
The Hollow slowly turns to face Eldon.
"After these messages: What show is going to get cancelled? Let's find out..." Mittens turns on the commercials.
Team Leader:
Duke Leto: 1 (The Hollow)
Team Loser:
Duke Leto: 1 (Duke Leto)
"Well, it looks like you actually elected a leader this round. The bad news is that you murdered him horribly. Great job." Duke Leto is indeed quite dead after the commercial, with a puncture wound right in his heart. Whoever did that murdering did good murdering. Too bad it was during a commercial break.
"Hey, and guess what. The robot didn't murder anyone this round. Great job robot." Mittens paces back and forth. "This is why we're getting cancelled! I'm just so mad that I could just... Grrrr, get my laser goggles!"
The crew helps Mittens put on her laser goggles, and she BZZZAPS! Murder Monk and Aaron Lockley to death. "GOOD RIDDANCE! I HOPE YOU ALL DIE! I AM NOT TAKING THESE OFF AND I AM WATCHING YOU! This round's competition: DODGE THE LASERS! TEAM LEADER IS THE BEST DODGER AND TEAM LOSER IS THE WORST!"
Remaining players: Alexander Maxerson, Eldon Gorski, The Hollow
Remaining roles: Deathbot, Heister, Itchy Trigger Finger
"This is it! " Alexander roars out, his voice reverberating throughout the arena. Balling his hands into fists, he slams them together, piercing the air with a sharp crack. His entire body tenses up, accentuating each and every one of his massive, well-toned muscles. As the rage of his ancestors boils within him, his beard even seems to grow an inch. Too many foes have evaded my grasp! Tiamat, Mustakrakish, and even Flglhran! But not this time!
"Battle? Damnit!" A laser zips by and nearly hits Eldon as he moves. "What battle? It's like tag with lights and Mittens is it!" Keeping his eyes on Mittens, Eldon continues. "I gotta say, that creepy thing was right about the Duke. Makes me burn with anger being wrong about him. But I'll go with him on this. Alexander, you're going down this time!"
"I knew it was you all along, Eldon Gorski!" Alexander leaps through the air just as a stray laser drags across the ground beneath his feet, ripping it asunder.
As he lands some ten feet away, his eyes dart to a nearby cow, which he quickly snatches up by the leg.
"How does it feel to be so fake!?"