The Final Wave Copyright Damien Nathaniel Wren 2011 Smashwords Edition “Please, Daddy?” Jensen – a tall, hefty man of 30 years – looked down at the 10 year old. His expression softened. Gently, he reached down with a hand that seemed monstrous next to the little girl’s head – carefully lifting her chin with a curled, thick, index finger. His smile conveyed the love he felt for his daughter. He choked back a tear as memories of her mother came flooding in. She was a spitting image. “Please?” she repeated. “OK, baby. I’ll be back to pick you up at 5:30, then it’s dinner, practice, and straight to bed.” “Thank you, Daddy!” She squealed as she leapt up – kissing him on the cheek. Wasting no time, she snatched up her doll and her bag and ran off to join her friends. The doll outstretched its arms to the man as the girl ran. “It’s not fair! You know I’m going to regret this!” it snorted. Turning to the little girl’s ear it took a more tentative tone – throwing in a shudder for emphasis. “Can’t we talk about this?” it asked – and the girl and the doll both broke out in uproarious laughter. Jensen – in a rare moment in his life – just smiled. Walking back to his car he watched as a group of boys played a game of street basketball nearby. The boys were playing the same as they did every evening after school. -=+=- Troy executed a pump-fake once, then again. Carelessly slamming into Tyree he turned around and took the shot - a near perfect lay-up. Tyree took to his feet and gave the boy a shove. “Yo! You fouled!” A sly, smug grin writhed its way across Troy’s face. “No blood, no foul ya ape-ass-lookin’ sonuvabitch.” Tyree gave Troy another shove. “Fuck you!” Troy sighed. “Eh. Fuck it.” Troy threw a blindingly fast right knocking Tyree to the ground and bloodying his nose in the process. Troy laughed. “Ah. There is blood. My bad.” “Fight!” the other boys screamed – cheering them on as the fight took to the ground and the two exchanged blows. Tyree – not one to be beaten – made a desperate reach for a chunk of pavement that had broken off at the edge of the court. Wrapping his fingers around it he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and swung. Troy immediately rolled over while grabbing at the wound. “You God-forsaken, mother-fucking son of a bitch!” -=+=- The woman was hysterical. Grabbing at whatever her tear-filled eyes could lock in on she threw – and threw – and threw. Lyndy struggled to find some semblance of safety on the other side of the bed. Reggie had raised his muscular arms into a defensive stance – just in time for a low-flying copy of the “Book of Mormon” to strike home on his well-developed belly. He hadn’t even stopped long enough to pull on his boxers. With his new wife in the state she was in – he wasn’t going to waste that kind of time. “Sara! Sara! Please! This won’t help anything! Calm down!” Lyndy had wrapped herself in the bed sheets – and ventured a look over the edge of the bed just in time to see Sara deliver a swift kick right where it would count the most. “Mom! Stop it!” She screamed – dropping back into hiding. Tears streamed down her face as she heard him hit the floor groaning. The hysterics continued as she kicked the downed man. Lyndy’s voice was hushed. “You’re scaring me.” -=+=- Ian – meanwhile – was with his nephew Marcus. The winds in the park were great that day – and they’d taken a homemade dragon kite for its maiden flight. Marcus – at the ripe-old-age of 6 – sat amazed at the beautiful monstrosity at the end of his string as Ian watched, full of pride. “Uncle Ian? How do you make a kite?” Smiling, Ian began an explanation – then pulled out his PDA. He logged into the weather service. “We’re going to have a good wind next weekend, too. How’s about we make a kite together on Friday and you learn about it that way?” “Can we?” The boy was excited – eyes all big and bright. “Cool!” he finished – and promptly began dreaming up designs. “I want mine to be a bat!” he said. “No – a fighter plane like the ones they use for the war and stuff!” Ian laughed. “You got it! We’ll start talking about it on the way home. Good?” The boy gave an emphatic nod. “Mm!” he said – and continued flying the dragon smiling bigger than ever. “It’s going to be the best!” -=+=- In yet another part of town Kim stood there anxious – watching as her boyfriend carefully leveled his rifle towards his target. Preston’s expression was intense as he acquired his target – currently jinking about in a futile attempt to save itself. His finger tightened over the trigger to the rifle – which began to move at a carefully measured pace. Kim placed her hands over her eyes as he pulled the hammer back and fired. The sound of shattering porcelain accompanied a shocked expression. The carnival worker simply shook his head, smiling. “Well, son – it looks like you proved me wrong. Anything you want – anything at all for the lady. Just choose.” A smile crept across Preston’s face as sparkles danced in Kim’s eyes. “Go ahead – pick one – any one. You heard him.” He felt himself bursting with pride as Kim picked out a funny looking green doll with something that resembled Kermit the frog’s collar around the crown of its head. “It’s so cute!” she said. “I wonder what it is, though?” “It’s Japanese. It’s called a Kappa. They lose strength the further they get from water – so you have to keep water on the top of their heads or they die.” Kim smirked – not really surprised any more by her boyfriend’s seemingly endless knowledge of all things “arcane and mysterious”. She looked at him - the look on her face changing to something more mischievous. “Oh, shuttup!” she said. She grabbed hold of him and pulled him close. “Come kiss me.” -=+=- Rand, however, lay back in his chair – asleep. He’d been on duty for over 12 hours now – his relief never showed. His shift had been preceded by a sleepless night dealing with his hysterical sister and a bunkmate who spent too much time partying and not enough time thinking about the after-effects of his alcohol on his already tender stomach. “Rand! Wake up!” Silv shook her head as she kicked his chair. “What’s your problem, soldier! Are you tending your displays?” “Uhb, uhm … yes, Sir! Sir!” “Bullshit! Wipe the drool off your chin and get back to work! You’ve earned triple detail tomorrow and if I have to get a whip on your ass you will earn your next night’s sleep! Clear?” “Yes Sir! Sir!” Rand wiped his chin, and began flipping switches for show. Silv had a reputation for being a cruel taskmaster – but for being a bit of a softy if she could see you making real effort. Still, she wasn’t impressed. “How long has this been here?” she asked. Rand rolled over on his chair to the display she was referring to. There was an alert being displayed – a quiet little screen on the edge of his matrix representing a little watched, and little cared-for section of the base’s 250-mile perimeter. It had been breached. Rand panicked – hitting the alarm. Silv rolled her eyes. “So help me, Rand – if you get out this alive I’m going to kill you! Get to your machine NOW!” Rand stumbled out of his chair – running to suit up for combat. Silv got on the PA and made the announcements – scrambling the whole of their forces. As she did so – she succeeded in getting a lock on one of the satellites revealing a top-down view of the action. She went limp. Plopping into the chair that Rand just vacated her eyes grew wide – twin images of the dark, fast-moving cloud approaching them reflecting on her steel gray irises. Her head sank. “God – please help us.” -=+=- The sound of an explosion rocked the arena as a series of small, pyrotechnic charges went off over the end zone. The cheerleaders went frantic – rushing out onto the field to celebrate as a group of high-school kids rolled out onto the field – careering about in a small jeep as they fired T-Shirts into the crowd by means of a special, repeating cannon mounted in back. The crowd went wild with them – cheering their home team. A few moments later the teams lined up, and kicked off. It was a good run – placing the visitors at 27 yards. The two teams got into their respective huddles and discussed strategy before breaking into formation. That’s when the alarms went off. Air-raid sirens sounded through the city – warning the population of the impending attack. The football players gave way as the announcer gave instructions as to what to do next. People began rushing about the field – setting and cleaning up. Arena personnel moved their way through the crowds, barking instructions and assisting in maintaining order. The arena was built to serve as a protective shelter and the city’s population would be evacuated into it. -=+=- Klaxons blaring, Ian wasted no time taking up his nephew’s hand as they made a run for the car. Dropping his kite string Marcus objected loudly as the great dragon lurched skywards before plummeting unceremoniously earthward. Ian ignored the boy, stuffing him quickly in his car seat before heading to the arena. -=+=- Sara’s assault on her husband stopped as her mind turned to her 16-year-old daughter Lyndy. Running over to help the girl dress she grabbed the man’s keys and headed for his vehicle. He still lay there, moaning. -=+=- Tyree was among the other boys as the alarm sounded. Staring helplessly at Troy’s body lying on the ground he called out to them. “Zack! Troy’s breathing!” Zack glanced backwards briefly, then back at the rest of the boys retreating from the park before turning on his heel and heading back. “We can’t leave him. Give me a hand!” Carefully, Tyree and Zack lifted the injured boy from the ground and supported him between them. Troy now safely in tow Tyree and Zack headed to the arena as well. -=+=- Kim panicked. Even with Preston there – her mind flooded with desperation. Calmly, Preston grabbed hold of her hand and began running. Sitting on his motorcycle he tossed her her helmet – starting the bike while she got on. Looking back, he gave her a nod to make sure she was secure before kicking the bike into first gear. A quick check for traffic, and he took off. -=+=- Jensen thought immediately of his daughter – the daughter that he – stuck in this traffic jam – couldn’t get to. He called the little girl’s parents she was staying with. Fortunately they were heading to the shelter as well and said they would tend to her until he could arrive. But the streets were clogged. A massive accident blocked the intersection. He hung his head low as he thought about it, and then exited the vehicle. Taking a brief look around, he started to run. -=+=- The intensity of Rand’s character had taken over his face, instinct guiding his actions as he jumped into his machine. Locking down the hatch, he proceeded to flip on the safety light in the cabin then paused to take a deep breath. “Engage.” Screens flickered to life. Indicators flashed. Switches went from red to blue with a soft click – Rand at the helm. Systems powered up quickly – engines warming up to firing temperature. A rapid succession of soft “ticks” emanated from the speakers of his beast – each tick representing another computer on the network coming online. Looking around him, the others were mounting up and preparing for launch just as he was. And from the sound of it they weren’t missing a pilot. The three beasties assigned as Rand’s close range support signaled their readiness – a ritual being repeated again and again throughout the compound as hundreds upon hundreds of heaving, mechanical beasts sprung angrily to life. As Rand like to put it, they were ready to dispense hell. A self-contained fortress sitting atop two monstrous, vector-thrust enabled legs Rand’s machine weighed just over 120 tons with full ordinance, and could travel at a maximum of 160mph with a range of nearly 500 miles. Its emu-like legs housed bristling with munitions and hard points its arms were two separate stacks of three enormous rail guns tucked behind an even larger set of protective shields And – as if that wasn’t enough – each arm’s “shield” was capable of launching a formidable volley of medium range missiles as well. Even more so were the four cannon – identical to those on a battleship – mounted atop the intimidating mass of munitions storage housings and armor plates Rand considered a “body” - a special array of long-range missile launchers firing straight up from the rear of the machine. That said along with a few factories worth of equipment along with a tremendous storage capacity and his beast turned into a monster with a seemingly endless supply of ammunition, and power. And he was about to empty every last bit of it. Authorization buzzed and hissed over the radio. There was an obvious overdose of venom and sentiment in Silv’s now wavering voice. He sat, stunned. Silv never lost her cool. Now, he could swear she was crying. He shook it off. A smirk crossed Rand’s expression as he hit the “all-call”. Clearing his throat, Rand adopted a somber, yet mocking tone. “Gentlemen…” he started – pausing as if for effect. Smiling, Rand’s demeanor changed as his expression began bordering on maniacal. “Let’s do this!” The beasts began to heave, the earth trembling as the gigantic machines roared violently to life – the building bending and twisting from the near-earthquake level forces being driven into the ground below them. And then - one by one – they lifted from the ground and began their hover. Silv’s voice broke in. “This is it, Gentlemen. A full-scale assault brought to us by our ‘friends’ in the ‘Northern Lights’. We’ve got a full-scale swarm on our hands, and they aren’t inviting us to dinner.” Silv continued barking out orders – organizing the forces from the command station locked underground in the military base. Rand’s team went north, Jamie’s northeast, and Tiger’s northwest. At arrival, their computers linked up for optimal firing configuration, and the ports and hatches on the rear of their beasts opened. Clamps unlatched, and pylons drove outwards from the legs of their machines and into the ground for stability. The first wave of long-range ordinance was now poised, and ready for firing. Then … silence. Rand watched his long range sensors – no sign of the bugs. No missile locks. No call to further action. His beast groaned mournfully as if in objection to its sudden bout of inaction. Suddenly his sensors sprung to life, and the order came. “Gentlemen … fire at will!” -=+=- The arena – meanwhile – was filling as Jensen came across his daughter – still playing with the friend he had left her with. “Where’s mommy?” she asked. Her doll – Miho – looked at Jensen while shaking her head sadly. He reached down with a hand and lightly flicked the doll’s forehead. “I never could figure out how you got so smart.” Smiling warmly, he held his daughter gently by the shoulders as he knelt before her. “You know the ‘bad things’ – the reason we’re here?” The girl nodded. “Your Mommy left to make them go away.” The vehicles used during the football game now rushing madly about the crews working the arena pushed themselves as they prepared for the incoming crowd. Helicopters made impromptu, emergency supply runs – food and medical supplies necessary to support the local population both during the battle, and after the battle’s end. Parent upon parent reassured their children, and each other. Some helped their elderly parents and grandparents make entry into the arena while a small contagion of military personnel worked closely with the police to keep things orderly. Still, there came the frightened cries of a small boy. Jensen looked to the boy, took him by the hand, and introduced him to his daughter. The child wiped his eyes. “Uhm, hi.” “What’s your name, kid?” The boy looked up at Jensen – who seemed like a giant to him – before stammering. “Tr … uhm … Trevor.” “OK, Trevor. Are you lost? Is that why you’re crying?” He nodded. “Tell you what. Why don’t you stay here and play. I’ll find them for you, OK?” With Trevor reassured, Jensen turned his attention towards the doll. “Miho. If anything happens – if they need me – don’t dawdle. You know how to find me. And don’t let them leave this spot for any reason.” The doll looked at him, giving her usual smart-assed half-smile in response. An affectionate smile crossed his lips. “Smug little shit.” The doll’s reply came – but not after a bit of a “dramatic pause”. “You got it, boss!” -=+=- Columns of missiles began spewing from the beasts in organized clusters carving white, sinewy trails across the skies and into the dark mass – the swarm of “bugs” sent from the Northern Light. Within moments the twilight skies were alight with the fireworks of their destructive force – the bugs plunging headlong into the impromptu wall of long-range, high ordinance explosives, and plasma. Twisted bits of metal, bone, and flesh began to rain. As quickly as the initial long-range attack had begun, the complete exhaustion of long-range missiles had Earth’s Defense Forces switching to their medium-range weapons systems. They did not wait for orders. A brief pause and the columns began again. White, sinewy trails obscured by clouds left behind by the armada of long-range weapons that preceded them. Pausing only briefly, the forces of the Northern Light now rushed headlong through the carnage of their predecessors. Their numbers were enormous. And again, the skies lit. And again, the rain fell. Support units prepared their short-range missile arrays, as did the mobile fortresses they accompanied. Bugs that had slipped through the mid-range assault were promptly targeted. It didn’t matter. Even the weakest of the EDF’s missile weapons were enough to obliterate them on contact. But still they come. Their medium-range missiles depleted, the EDF loaded and fired their short-range missiles – panic beginning to infect the ranks of the humans. Plummeting headlong the bugs displayed no desire for self-preservation. There was no fear of death. No evasive maneuvers, no deviation of course. The bugs had completely locked sites on them – unyielding, and undaunted. And for every bug they destroyed, 100 seemed to replace it. Finally, the first rail gun sounded. -=+=- Short-range missiles and anti-aircraft fire lit the landscape as tracers burned their way through night skies. It was amidst the lights that G’hin-nj watched her comrade fall – rent unceremoniously by human fire as a viscous black fluid spurted into the air around her and splashed onto her armor. Her best friend transformed into a lifeless husk G’hin-nj looked back to bid her farewell - N’has-re floating momentarily as if weightless before plummeting to the ground like a stone where the impact scattered what remained of her body to the 4 winds. -=+=- Cencom’s sensors were maxed. It was impossible for the station to keep a complete tally – but it was known that there were at least 60,000 kills and suspected that the numbers were closer to 90,000. Silv looked on. Over 90,000 killed by her meager force of 1200 … and still the swarm came … hurtling themselves mindlessly into their own destruction. She checked her displays – came up with an estimate. “90,000 down, 20,000 to go…” Summoning her strength Silv opened a channel to her troops on the field. For the last time, she smiled – her expression sensually devious as she started the transmission. “New orders, troops. GIVE THOSE MOTHER FUCKERS HELL!” Silv continued smiling, feeling only slightly pleased with herself as she plopped down in her chair – the cheers of her troops echoing through the control room. Her expression turned serious. Retrieving her phone, she made a call to her husband. She was relieved to find that he and her daughter had made it safely to the arena. She spoke to her daughter – bright and happy. Silv even spoke to that smart-assed doll of hers before her daughter got back on the phone. “Never forget, baby, how much I love you. Never forget. You promise?” She could hear the child’s smile as she said what would be the last words Silv would ever hear: “I love you too, Mommy. I promise!” “Bye, baby. I have to go.” Silv hung up, not waiting to hear her reply. Tears streaming down her cheek Silv’s head sunk. Slowly – so very slowly – she closed her eyes. Her voice was a whisper. “I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” A short series of careful, deliberate, and paced movements drew her sidearm. Opening her tear-filled eyes she pointed it to the monitors – then to her own heart… -=+=- The sound of a gunshot startled Miho – who quickly broke free of her owner’s little games to check it out. One of the pyrotechnics set up for the football game had gone off – but without the resounding explosive effect that was to accompany it over the arena’s sound system. She shook her head and returned to watch the children. Jensen himself was just returning with Trevor’s mother – who let out a gasp. “Trevor!” “Mommy!” Trevor ran to his mother – jumping up as she lifted him into her loving embrace. “How can I ever thank you?” she asked. Jensen simply shrugged. She put the boy down – allowing him to continue playing with his new friends. “I’ve still got to find my husband. Would you?” Jensen smiled. “He’s in good hands.” -=+=- Rand panicked. His targeting computer flooded with potential targets, the “Z-Sort” was returning errors. Targets slipped through. Each firing of his massive gun resulted in the deaths of many, the survivors plowing through the smoke, and wreckage without regard. He recognized it - a hive functioning as a pure hive mind. A single swarm tens of thousands strong hurtled at them headlong. Each missile, each shell from his rail gun – and each from the guns of his comrades – brought down one or more of them. They were killing off their attackers at an astonishing rate. And still they come. Then reality hit. Voice hushed, and mouth agape his eyes widened. “They have more bugs than we have bullets to kill them with.” An alarm tone snapped Rand back to reality as the crosshairs on his targeting system turned red. He pulled the trigger – shockwaves thundering through his beast as its rail guns sprung to life severing the upper-right torso of his attacker. The next shot pierced another bug’s abdomen - leaving a gaping hole. Striking the ground it bounced once then dug in creating a trench as it screamed by. Rand’s next target found itself headless, black fluid spurting from the neck of the bug as its head flew back – caught by the momentum of the shell. Its body abruptly ceasing its forward charge it limply reoriented itself to land solidly on its hind legs – crumpling to the ground as black spurted from all points. Rand realized many of them had been injured – even seriously – flying through the debris of their comrades. And still they come. The next shot took an arm and the next a leg. Then Rand’s guns sounded again decimating the bug that had attempted to use itself to clog the barrel. A cannon on his beast’s left arm registered malfunction. One had got in. Sandy piped in: “I got it!”, and took aim – blasting one of the bugs that had clung to the side of Rand’s beast only to have three others slam into her headlong. The piercing screams of his wingman echoed over the comm along with the groans of metal being ripped, and twisted. Then silence. His other wingmen continued firing on the bugs in a desperate attempt to keep them off of the mobile fortress – the bugs desperately clawing, shredding, and prying at the beast’s hardened armor plate. Striking the beast with incredible force they clung, crawling about her body, and clustering together so as to leave as much room for the others as they could. Rand could hear them pounding, and grinding – a sound playing from Reggie’s comm as well - her cockpit flooding with red light as her monitors displayed a now constant flood of damage reports. First, her weapons systems went down. Then she lost communications. Her radar shut off. Then visuals… Power. Unheard by her comrades-at-arms, Reggie screamed. Collier had not lost visual – and was struggling to maintain foothold despite their place in the center of the swarm. He took a moment to glance at Rand’s once majestic mobile fortress – its skin now black, and crawling from the onslaught of bugs. Shreds of metal and disembodied parts flew away as the creatures clawed, bit, and burrowed their way inside. Then they lost another wingman - Lynn's screams piercing his ears. “Lynn!” Collier rushed to her side while firing on the bugs in a futile attempt to save his friend as they leapt deftly away from her machine leaving an opening for his own fire to penetrate Lynn’s armor. Within seconds those same bugs had left Lynn’s beastie, and completely covered his own. Panicked, he began making a series of jinking motions with his controls – his beastie dancing wildly about in response. He wasn't shaking them. And then he saw Lynn. The bugs had extracted her. One of them was holding her as she struggled against it – unable to break free. Targeting the bug’s head Collier pulled the trigger only to notice his guns cast sloppily away at his feet, and his missile stores depleted. It was only then that the sounds of them pounding and slashing their way through to the pilot’s compartment took over his already heightened senses. Desperate now, he punched the eject button. Red lights flashed as a sickening thud, and a series of clacks answered Collier’s command along with a single, three-syllable word. “Malfunction” His attention went back to Lynn as the bug holding her used a single, enormous claw to reach out and slice through her body armor, and clothing – examining her like a child taking apart a favorite toy. Blood began flowing from the wound it created – a wound stretching from shoulder to knee. Lynn began to go visibly limp. Lifting Lynn by her head, the bug cast simply cast her aside – dashing her body against Rand’s beast. It was then that Rand’s voice broke in. He attempted to respond but his beastie was little more than the husk supporting his armored compartment. His beastie’s legs had been eaten through, and its weapons systems ripped from its body and cast off. It was as if they were slowly dissecting his beastie. He lost power. Then he felt it – the intense heat. Then he saw it – the warm reddish glow of an enormous claw. Now, it was in his cockpit with him. It had just missed penetrating his heart. And as it withdrew it left a stream of light in its place – a stream of light quickly blocked by what he could only guess was the actual face of a bug. Seeing him, the creature turned its head sideways one way then the other as it appeared to examine him with a trio of motionless, glistening black eyes. Satisfied it then reared back – two claws forcing their way in where one was before. The bug’s ripping, and wrenching of that final, annoying layer of reinforced armor began - the pitiful groans emanated by twisted steel playing accompaniment to the sickening crunch the filled his cabin. Collier turned around and crawled quickly to the rear of the cockpit, then defecated. He felt the warmth spreading on his waist and legs as his bladder emptied before – desperately - he himself began clawing at the rear of his beastie in an attempt to get away, open the hatch… Something… But the beast had come through - that same, red-hot claw that pierced his cockpit now impaling his abdomen as it painfully cauterized the wound. Quietly, he gave up the ghost. Yanked brutally through the bug’s opening Collier’s body was flung aside like so much garbage – striking Rand’s beast with force enough to crush spine and skull before bouncing limply to the ground – his limbs lying at odd angles. -=+=- And so there came a thunderous roar and their eyes all at once cast skyward. Something had slammed into the arena roof. Quietly, anxiously, the people sat in wait. Then came the sound again, and once more. People leapt from their skin as something unknown slammed into the arena’s walls. The sounds began coming more quickly now, accompanied by a grinding, and tearing. The arena was assaulted by a hailstorm of enemy armors – the incessant pounding filling the shelter with a sense of ghastly horror. Many of its occupants lost hope. And there were no military reports. There were no sounds of weapons fire in counterattack. Attempts to reach Cencom all failed. They were without defense, and on their own. The bugs quickly tore their way through the roof – flying down into the panicked throngs of people as they scattered, and ran desperately for their lives. The bugs flew in wild patterns overhead, observing them, occasionally snatching them up, or ripping through them with their claws still glowing from heat. And as the people ran in terror, blood rained. Jensen picked up his daughter and ran only to be struck down by remains cast aside by the invaders. His daughter – frightened – kept running as Miho coached her – directing her to an archway as a portion of the roof collapsed. They were trapped. The world became darkness as a backdrop to the sounds of explosions, to the sounds of the arena as it continued to crumble under the assault, and to the sound of the earth shattering all around her. More and more distant, and muffled became the screams as people fled the arena to find the aliens waiting – ruthlessly shredding them to bits as they ran. There was no escape, no harbor. Human to them was as an infestation of rats to humans – a disgusting pest to be exterminated without prejudice. The air grew thick with the combined scents of urine, and feces. And blood. And as the sounds went away – exhausted – she slept. Hours passed, and then a day before she rose – light pouring in from an opening dug just large enough for her to crawl through. And as she emerged into the city, it lay quiet. “Miho!” the girl ran to the doll, and shook it vigorously. The light that once emanated from its bracelet, and the charm around its neck had gone out. She got nothing. Falling to her knees she began crying, but stopped as she took in the carnage which surrounded her. The exterior of the arena was a mess of disembodied and entangled limbs and torsos. A man’s head lay staring at her with lifeless eyes – its chin torn away from it with the rest of its body. There was more – much more. She wished she couldn’t see. Sniffling – she wiped her tears and for the first time saw her hands. Staring at her hands a moment her eyes then moved to her dress – covered in blood. Tiny, crimson puddles collected around the soles of her shoes. She called out for her parents, and shook Miho. Silence. She screamed.