[11] Price
The sheer degradation of the moment was almost unbearable. As I lay battered and bloodied on the cold hard ground, I felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and humiliation that exceeded the physical pain I had just endured.
Their laughter rang out, echoing in the abandoned space, each chuckle a cruel testament to the depths of their depravity. I looked up, eyes wide with disbelief and terror, pleading with them, trying to find any semblance of humanity that might deter them from adding to my torment.
"Please, please don't," I croaked out, voice broken and hoarse.
One of the men sneered, stepping closer. "Look at you, so pathetic. Maybe this will wash away some of that blue-team pride of yours." The others laughed in agreement.
As the first stream hit me, warm and repulsive, a sense of numb detachment settled in. I tried to turn away, to close my eyes and disappear into my own thoughts, trying to shield my psyche from the horror unfolding. But the sound of their jeering, the scent of urine filling the air, and the chilling sensation on my skin were impossible to ignore.
Each man took his turn, ensuring that every part of me was subjected to the degrading act. My hair, my face, my clothes — all were drenched. The only reprieve came in brief pauses, where they exchanged cruel jokes and jeers, their laughter echoing painfully in my ears.
The sinister atmosphere in the abandoned store thickened as they shuffled around, laughing and conspiring. Their momentary satisfaction from their vile act only seemed to fuel their hunger for further cruelty.
"Let's play a little game bitch boy," one of the men sneered, looking me up and down as they bound my wrists to makeshift posts, stretching my arms out in a 'T'. "Ever played human darts?"
I looked around, panic welling up inside me. Their cruel intentions were clear. "Please, don't do this," I whispered, but it was as if my voice didn't reach them, lost in the haze of their malevolence.
One of the men stepped back, taking a spear in hand, his eyes focusing on me. "Alright, lads, ten points for the arms, twenty for the torso, and fifty if you can nail that pretty face of his."
Another chimed in, grinning wickedly, "And a hundred if you miss him entirely and hit the wall. We wouldn't want to end the fun too soon, now would we?"
The men chuckled, their laughter echoing off the walls of the derelict store.
The first man took aim, pulling his arm back. As the spear whizzed past, it barely grazed the fabric on my arm, landing with a thud on the floor. "Damn it!" he cursed.
Another took his place, squinting one eye as he aimed, but his throw went wide, clattering against the wall. The third and fourth followed suit, their spears embedding themselves in the decaying wood and brick around me but never making contact.
The fifth man stepped up, his gaze cold and calculating. "Time to end this," he said, taking a deep breath.
But as he threw, his spear also missed, and the men groaned in frustration.
The chilling echo of their laughter reverberated through the abandoned store, bouncing off the discolored walls and tattered shelves. Their amusement at their own wickedness, their indulgence in such a vile game, was palpable.
"All right, round two! Maybe this time I'll actually score," the first man jested, retrieving his spear from where it had embedded itself in the crumbling brickwork.
They gathered again in their line, some rubbing their hands in anticipation, while others stretched out their throwing arms, warming up for their next turn.
Taking the lead, the first man sized me up, his eyes narrowing, the cruel smile never leaving his face. The brief moment of silence was filled with tension. As he released the spear, it arced through the dimly lit space, and I braced for impact. I felt a sharp, burning pain as the spear's tip pierced the right side of my torso, embedding itself shallowly. The wind was knocked out of me, and a grunt of pain escaped my lips.
"YES! Twenty points for me!" the man celebrated, pumping his fist in the air, while the others cheered and clapped him on the back.
"Looks like the game just got interesting!" another chimed in, his voice dripping with false sympathy.
Tears welled up in my eyes from the searing pain, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break down completely.
The second man stepped forward, aiming deliberately. Yet, his throw was off, and the spear clattered noisily to the floor. "Damn! I thought I had that," he grumbled.
The third tried his luck but also missed, his spear embedding itself harmlessly into the wall just inches from my left arm. The jeering among the group grew louder.
"Oh come on, try to at least make it challenging for me!" the first man mocked.
The fourth, with a smirk, said, "Watch and learn, boys," but his confidence was misplaced. His spear also sailed past, embedding itself between some broken tiles.
The fifth, with a more somber demeanor, took a deep breath and aimed carefully. Yet, his throw, too, went wide, missing me by a hair's breadth.
The first man gloated, "Looks like I'm the only one with any real skill here!"
The rest grumbled, but the underlying tone of amusement remained.
After retrieving their spears, they went to round 3.
The first two missed and just as the 3rd man was about to hurl his spear, came the monotone female AI announcer voice on from the loud speakers:
"The red queen has been eliminated. The red team will now be terminated."
The entire room froze at the AI announcer's words, a chilling silence settling in. For a moment, no one seemed to comprehend the gravity of the message. But reality hit in a split second, and the faces of the red team men turned ashen, their eyes widening in sheer terror.
The third man, still poised to throw his spear, dropped his arm slowly, a trembling look of disbelief overtaking his face.
The unmistakable sound of collars activating filled the room. A series of mechanical clicks and whirrs, a noise that heralded death. It was a sound none of them had ever expected to hear directed at them.
"No, no, no!" one of them screamed, clawing at the collar around his neck. The metallic device, cold and unfeeling, was now a harbinger of doom.
"I don't want to fking die!" another cried, tears streaming down his face as he desperately tried to pry the collar off, to no avail. Panic spread like wildfire, the room erupting into chaos.
And then, it happened.
The explosions were deafening, a thunderous boom that resonated through the entire building. The room was instantly filled with a nauseating mixture of smoke, blood, and the metallic scent of death. The collars had done their work efficiently, leaving no room for mercy or error.
I was showered in debris and gore, but the pain in my side was blinding, and I struggled to comprehend what had just occurred.
The bodies of the five men lay scattered, headless and broken, their laughter and cruelty silenced forever. The room, once filled with their malicious energy, was now a gruesome scene of destruction.
I gasped for air, trying to quell the rising nausea.
It's so cold…
I can't anymore…
I can't…
Everything went black.
Q: Do you think joining the Ant wars for 100K is worth it?