5 Windmill Bar

Hendrik rubbed his hands together, keeping his mind off the dry tickle in his throat. Crystal glasses sparkled beneath opal chandeliers. The marble interior impressed Hendrik and Pieter as they strolled into the bar alone.

Only one robot was serving at the bar. If it wasn't for the silicone skin on their faces and white armour moulded into their body frame – they could pass off as human. The bartender had a softer build than the robot they encountered in the boardroom.

"What can I get for you?" the robot asked. The electronic voice showed no sign of gender, but there was a sense of refinement. "There is no charge for this service."

"What have you got on the tap?" Hendrik asked.

The robot turned its head, removed a veil showcasing their beers. "We have Guinness, Amstel, Budweiser, Newcastle Brown and Hook Norton."

"One of each please!"

"What about you, Pieter?"

"I'll have five shots of the finest whiskey you've got."

"Calculating..." The robot took its time on the orders, but Hendrik got his five pints and Pieter got his five shots. "Here you go, gentlemen. I hope you enjoy your drinks. Cheers!"

Pieter downed his shots. "This place is paradise! The scenery is lovely." Pieter flicked cobwebs off his suit. "I'll tell you something. I could easily live here."

"Are you sure about that?" Hendrik decided he had to be careful with what he said on national TV. "It could all be a trap. Who knows, the alcohol might be poisoned?"

Pieter patted his friend's back and chuckled. "Alcohol is technically a poison."

"You're not wrong there." Hendrik laughed back with his eyes gleaming at the drink. "At least it's a poison we like."

Glasses clinked. Pieter rolled his head around. "A shame about the flesh-eating robots."

Hendrik nodded. His eyes fixated at the bartender. "Well, this robot here seems okay."

"Maybe's he's one of the good robots."

The feeling of reassurance did not last. Hendrik still had a feeling of dread as he examined the nails poking out of its shoulder pads. Pieter mumbled on about his dreams of the high life. Gazing at his reflection in the glass, he saw a man of privilege – but nothing to show for it.

"I could happily live on this island," Pieter mumbled. "Everything is free. And now after all our years of hard work... I can live the dream."

"And what do you mean by that?" For men of their age, they had achieved quite a lot, although on questionable legal grounds.

"I mean not having to work ever again."

"You mean to retire?" Hendrik squinted. "I can't imagine you retiring, Pieter. You work so hard on your brothel and bank all the time. You'll be bored brainless."

"Can I consider this place a retirement?" Pieter admired the crystal chandeliers. The android bartender paced around the bar, mumbling tunes from the swinging sixties. The vocals were charming and they wished they were teenagers in the sixties: everyone looked so happy in the music videos.

"Now I get it! You want to build some coffeehouses and weed farms."

"We can do that when we get home. Let's have a toast!" Pieter took one of the pints. "To happy retirement."

"To happy retirement, and you know something? I'm really glad Bobby's alive," Hendrik admitted. He dreaded going to Amsterdam or being near water for a while because Bobby had always been at the back of his mind. The fact that he watched a man attempt suicide, and not knowing whether he lived or died haunted him. "I felt bad not doing anything or even knowing his name." Hendrik lowered his head on the table, clutching onto a drink like it was an old friend. "I just sort of watched from afar.""Don't beat yourself up over it." Pieter patted his back. "It's not your fault."

"I wonder why the pair of them didn't move from that spot?"

Pieter shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."

"I'm wondering if it has something to do with that big projector screen?"

Pieter squinted. His eyebrow raised at Hendrik. "What screen?"

"You didn't see it?" He remembered the screen standing out from the dark. "It was right there in front of us."

"Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention." Hendrik had other priorities. He panted at the mere reminder of the robots' piercing eyes. "I was paying more attention to that rotten robot trying to eat my foot."

Pieter chortled. The two men lost track of their drinks as they shared pints and shots. "I bet you've never had so much attention in all your life."

"Please," Hendrik groaned. "I'm a married man."

"How many wives is that?"

"Four."

"That's not good."

"Hey, I'm only thirty-seven, this one is the one!"

Pieter shook his head; that Hendrik had more one-night-stands then he had hot dinners, and he wasn't even going to get started about the women in the alleyways. "Then what are you doing with those other women then?"

"It's strictly business." Hendrik's polite tone was breaking. The aggression was building up as his palms knuckled together. "They're part of the company. There is nothing dodgy or illegal going on."

"Oh, right." Pieter wasn't buying it. "Is that why they're in bikinis?"

"It's art!" Hendrik screamed. "Just because they're naked, doesn't mean it's sexual."

"You're a pimp!" Pieter cried back. "Don't try and sugar-coat it." He leaned over and whispered into Hendrik's ear, "It takes one to know one."

"Well, my brothel is better than yours. We had the American President in last week." Hendrik said, not feeling a sense of surprise when Pieter nodded. Both men had known each other since school, but they always had a fierce rivalry. The desire for one to out-do the other in every single aspect of their life remained a fire that burned deep within them. Despite joking about their failures, the two remained good friends.

"Hendrik, we should have been brothers."

"We are brothers, Pieter."

"I'm glad you think that way."

A voice behind them made them jump. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Pedro?" Pieter asked. "

"Ah!" Pedro shook both men's hands. "Pieter! Hendrik! How are you, my friends?"

Hendrik didn't remember ever considering Pedro Primera a friend, but he went along with it anyway. If they wanted to get out of the gameshow alive, they would have to trust the other contestants. He would have to give them value – a reason to keep them alive. He would have to backstab his fellow contestants after the show was over.

"I'm well, my friend. Where is Mariangela?"

"Oh, she's out there fighting robots," Pedro replied. He went into the robot's face at the bar. "Are you still serving?"

The robot nodded. "Yes!"

"One espresso martini please!"

"Coming right up!"

"Hey!" Hendrik pulled on Pedro's shoulder. "Shouldn't you be out there helping your wife?"

Pedro shrugged his shoulders and took a seat. "He took a crowbar from out of his bag. "My precious Mary's got her own metal staff. She's always been a tough cookie: she's more than capable of handling it on her own."

"That can still work against the robots!"

"I'm staying out of it," Pedro insisted. "My Mary's lethal when she's pissed. She'll join us in a bit."

"Your espresso martini is ready, Pedro!"

"Thank you, Mr Robot!"

"How come your drink took quicker than ours?" Pieter wondered.

"That's because you two are greedy."

The door kicked open again. It was Mariangela using her metal staff as support. Her gown was ripped to shreds and her high heels shattered beyond repair. She kicked them off. "That's a thousand dollars down the drain."

Pedro stood up with arms open to embrace her. "Don't worry, I can buy you 20 more pairs of shoes when we get off this island."

Mariangela walked past him and sat on the top corner of the bar. "I can't believe you left me to fight those robots on my own."

"You're always telling me that you want to do things on your own."

"I could have died out there." Mariangela pointed at the rips on her clothes in disgust. "Look at me! I'm a mess. My life could have been ruined – or worse... my own career."

"You value your career more than your life?" Pedro asked, raising his eyebrow. He remained in his seat. "You need to sort your priorities out, woman!"

"Hey!" Pieter raised his hands in the air. "This is no time for arguments. If we want to get off this island, we have to work as a team."

Hendrik knew that Pieter had a game plan. He may be drunk, but he would never forget how much he was pouring affection for the island a few minutes ago.

"You're right." Pedro thought he had heard something evolutional. Then mathematical sums buzzed in his head. "I made my calculations. If we all aim to destroy 25 robots each – that's 50 robots per pair – then the game will be over before you know it."

"I've destroyed ten so far," Mariangela growled. Marching towards her husband, she snatched his drink. Once the espresso martini had gone, she proceeded to the last remaining whiskey shots and pints. The men in the room were disappointed at first, but not angry as they didn't have to pay for it: they could always order more from the bar.

"Mary!" Pedro wailed. "Why are you doing this to yourself, you're ruining your beautiful figure."

"TO HELL WITH MY FIGURE!" Mariangela hailed, ripping a segment from her dress. "I WISH EVERYONE WOULD JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT MY WEIGHT."

Pedro rushed to her side when she started tearing her clothes until there was none left to shred. "Mary, darling, angel, please stop embarrassing yourself."

"Leave me alone!"

"But I thought you didn't want the world to see your cellulite and your little love handles."

"Let the world be offended!" Mariangela hissed. "The paparazzi are a bunch of pussies: they can't handle me."

"Leave her!" Hendrik insisted. "That feistiness and ability to stand up for herself makes her an attractive woman."

"And to think one day you two can both have children of your own," Pieter said to Mariangela and Pedro. Their marriage was not a perfect one. Every week there would be pictures posted in the media of them fighting together and kissing other men and women. Pedro was a loyal patron to both Peiter's and Hendrik's firms.

"With the beautiful stepchildren I already have, why would I need a baby?" Mariangela responded with her hands on her hips.

"Yes!" Pedro wrapped himself around his wife to preserve her modesty. "Our family is practically complete."

"There's no point trying to protect me," Mariangela howled in Pedro's ear. "The world's already seen it enough times already."

Hendrik stood up and nudged Pieter's shoulder. "Maybe we should leave. I don't want to be killed during some marriage dispute."

"Let's stay and order more drinks."

"Fine!" Hendrik sat back down. "At least I'm not paying for the funeral."

All the glasses were empty. Pieter sulked for a bit, then lifted his head and his hand. "Can I order another 5 pints and 5 shots please?"

Mariangela leapt over the bar, kicked the robot to the ground, then stabbed the unsuspecting robot with her staff. The robot never stood up again. The men watched in awe. "Self-service from now on, boys!"

"Mary!" Pedro cried with his hands on his coat. Biting his lip, he hovered side-to-side between his glass and his fleeing wife. "WAIT FOR ME! IT'S SO DANGEROUS OUTSIDE!"

Pedro & Mariangela – 275 points

989 robots left

Hendrik and Pieter were alone again. Once all the glasses were empty, the bottles followed until they began crawling on the floor. The banter went on for another couple of hours.

"I'm surprised that no one else has come," Hendrik said, climbing up the table. "What are you doing, Pieter? Don't be so silly."

Pieter forced himself on his feet. "I feel so busy."

"You've done nothing!"

"I know! Everything is twirling and the world looks so purple right now."

Hendrik gulped, peering into his reflection on the bar. "Fuck my life right now. I could do with some weed now."

Despite what his peers said, Hendrik didn't consider women as his weakness. Weed was more tolerated than the other drugs, but his addiction wasn't enough for him to gag at the smell from time to time. He saw weed as a necessary medicine – kept his anxieties at bay.

"Have you got any of the stuff on you?"

Pieter shook his head. "You know that stuff isn't good for you."

Hendrik ground his teeth. Rolling his eyes, he sighed. "That doesn't answer my question."

Pieter pulled out his empty pockets. "Sorry pal... why don't we head outside?"

Hendrik clung onto the edge of the table. "I think we should stay here."

"We've had too much to drink."

He wanted to go with his instinct, but he didn't want to argue with Pieter either. Hendrik's head pounded at the thought of robots eating them alive. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but Pieter seemed more optimistic than usual with his radiant boogie-woogie by the door.

They left the bar like a pigsty. It was the last of Hendrik's worries. Hendrik tripped over a rock on the path. He felt no pain, but the blood seeped from his trousers. His head and heart pounded in rhythm the moment Pieter joined him, rolling over towards the grass. "Pieter!" he screeched, "Pieter! Pull yourself together."

"But tomorrow is going to be spectacular!"

His words froze Hendrik as he had a thought. "Wait, it's Moe's birthday tomorrow."

"Who's Moe?"

"My son."

Pieter shrugged his shoulders, waving his legs in the air, whaling out of tune. "I'm surprised you can keep up."

"Peiter...I only have two kids." They were both from his first wife and he'd seen neither her nor his kids for a long time. His wife and ex-wives would be watching him in disgust. He could picture the look of disdain on their petite faces. "I hope to see them when I go back to Leerdam."

Pieter giggled. "Don't know why you bother with wife and kids... far too many commitments for my liking." He looked up at Hendrik and winked. "Still much better to be alone and free like we are now."

Five robots tumbled down from the trees. Pieter snatched Hendrik's baseball bat whilst checking he had his pistol in his pocket. "GET BACK!" he demanded. "I'll protect you."

Hendrik couldn't stop spewing. The constant gagging only made it worse. With no strength to stand, he looked up at Pieter battering the robots. "You're a complete mystery to me, Pieter."

One by one, the robots fell to the ground until there was only two left. Hendrik stretched out his arms until the strain reached his fingertips. Feeling the rocks dig into his knees, he shouted, "let me help you!" His heel gave way and he slipped on his vomit landing head-first into the pool he created. Vision blurred, he helplessly watched as Pieter struggled with the other two robots. His eyes focused only on Pieter, who fired his pistols at one of the robot's stomach. The bullets bounced off and hit Pieter's knees.

The pistol clicked, but no more bullets were coming out. Pieter was doomed. Hendrik knew he would be next. Pieter's last words were valiant. "STAY AWAY FROM HENDRIK, YOU BASTARDS!"

The robots laughed. "We don't eat vomit!" They pulled Pieter up from the ground and took a bite out of his skull. "The ears are too sweaty for my liking," one of the robots complained, releasing Pieter.

The other robot shook its head. "That's just the way I like it. The sweat gives it a saltier flare. And nothing beats fresh membranes." They looked behind at their fallen comrades and dropped Pieter's body on the floor.

"ZX42, GH33, BL2E..." The two robots mourned with operatic tones. Knees bent and shoulders on their heart in dignity. "GOD REST THEIR SOULS!"

"AMEN!"

They stripped Pieter's corpse, halved him, then feasted. The robot with the torso crunched beneath his legs. "You know what, MT666?"

"Yes, CX69?"

"This would be lovely with SOME CUSTARD!"

"Yes! Wonderful custard; the sunshine pudding."

Pieter dead

Hendrik – 125 points

986 robots left