by Carly Morgan
Kaelia poured a small cup of coffee and took a platter of pineapple spears to the balcony, finding the scenery even more glorious in the morning haze then she had in the dipping sunset of last night. Everywhere she looked, the world was lush and striking emerald green, with mountains lurching into the clouds off in the distance, and the turquoise tide sparkling in the sun before her. An ethereal, steamy mist clung to the horizon, and palm trees stretched brazenly towards the ocean, their long, slender trunks curved over the sandy beach.
Kaelia took a bite of pineapple, so sweet it was like fresh honey melting on her tongue, and then washed it back with the strong, bitter coffee. She collapsed in a patio chair and ate her breakfast with the view, being careful to take small bites, chew slowly, and let the food settle in her stomach a bit before having more.
Suddenly, there was a beep, and Kaelia caught sight of an irritating light flashing in her peripheral vision. It was the tracking band on her wrist, reminding her of the orientation that was to take place in one hour. She sighed and stood up, her loose nightgown grazing the tops of her knees, and peered over the railing of the balcony.
There were guards posted below, the same as there were outside the doors of her suite. They looked up at her standing there, and Kaelia smiled coyly, lifting a hand and waving demurely. They regarded her for a moment, though Kaelia couldn’t tell if they were perturbed or bored before they turned back to their post, eyes front, guns propped on their shoulders. They must have been over forty stories below. Kaelia guessed they hadn’t put them all on the top floors just because they wanted them to have the best suites.
She imagined herself hurtling through thin air, taking out two or three guards with the fall alone, disarming the rest of them and knocking them out with their own weapons, drop kicking the stragglers. The thought made her smile, but she decided she’d better not. Better to save her talents for the competition, and win back her freedom fair and square instead of returning back to the label of wanted criminal.
The twenty finalists sat in a line of chairs on stage in the same order they were selected from the elimination ceremony. Kaelia still wore her number, 72, from yesterday pinned to the front of the dress the stylist chose for her, the material as glossy and soft as the ears on baby animals. Her legs and arms were bare, and her skin was starkly pale in contrast to the other contestants. Kaelia guessed they were already used to the harsh conditions of working under the hot sun in whatever work prisons they came from, a small advantage they had over her, given their current climate. A very, very small one.
There were cameras set up today, and bright lights that made the layers of foundation the make-up artist had slathered on her face feel as if it were melting. Her eyelashes, coated with mascara, felt too heavy, and her lips were stiff with paint. She fidgeted, feeling desperate to rub it away, to gain some relief from having her face buried under smatterings of glop, but the make-up artist had warned her again and again not to touch it. When she did anyway, absentmindedly, the brushes and wands had simply come out again, to quickly redo what she’d destroyed.
She studied the contestants next to her to take her mind off the itchy makeup. To her right, No. 69, who had wowed the judges yesterday by scaling the rock wall in sixty seconds, twice as quickly as everyone else, and sometimes while only using one hand, using the free one to wave unabashedly to the crowd as they murmured and gasped at his daring. Kaelia, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself, had done it in seventy-five seconds and used both hands the entire time, though she might have done it in thirty seconds with both hands broken.
No. 69 caught her looking, and flashed his white teeth at her, sparkling like pearls and as straight as a row of corn. He had flowing gold hair swept back from his face, smooth skin bronzed from the sun, and a dark shade of blue eyes, like cobalt. Kaelia, not wanting to be outdone, smiled right back at him, her grin crooked and brazen, her eyes glittering playfully.
“I’m Lux Beacon,” he introduced himself quietly among the din of the live audience surrounding them, offering his hand. Kaelia slipped her fingers against his only briefly, his skin warm and calloused, while her own hand was like ice. “No one told me the competition would be quite so… pretty.”
Kaelia kept her expression cool, refusing to be undone by the compliment. Besides, it was a lie anyway. Though Kaelia had been pretty once, perhaps even beautiful, three years in the caves of Krakian had stolen any gifts a superior gene pool might have bestowed upon her. Her body, once lithe and toned, was now feeble and frail with exhaustion, her hair no longer thick and shiny but brittle and dull, her skin sallow from lack of sun and nutrition, and her face gaunt.
“Pretty is as pretty does,” Kaelia murmured a comeback, and she supposed he might not have meant her anyway, but any one of the other three women in the competition. Like Lauza LaRue, the serial killer, voluptuous and fleshy, practically oozing sex appeal from every pore in her body. Or the cat burglar, Indigo Steele, cute, petite and kittenish, or the third, Jessamine Bellagio, a rebel soldier, with her thick head of wild curls, creamy café au lait skin, eyes as clear and light as pools of melted glass, and cheek bones sharp enough to cut a man’s heart out. It was obvious all three of them had been chosen mostly on looks, while Kaelia had gotten in on talent alone.
“You’re right,” Lux nodded at her. “We’ll see how pretty everyone is after the competition.”
“And what might you owe the honor of competing…” Kaelia started, but was abruptly interrupted by one of the showrunners.
“Attention, everyone!” he called, sweeping his arms in the air as he walked across the stage. “I need quiet on set. Cameras are rolling in three… two…”
A wave of music and colored light washed over the stage as the show’s host stepped onto the stage, walking purposely with a cheerful, roving smile as he waved to the audience. “Hello, hello!” he called emphatically, as if besieged by all the attention. “I’m your host Mick Dirkhead, and this is the Amity’s People Party’s Competition!”
The crowd clapped again, louder than before, and Kaelia realized they were following cues. Folding her arms across her belly, she sat back in her chair, and Lux Beacon caught her eye and flashed his teeth at her once more, this time a dimple burrowing into his cheek. Kaelia smirked at him and turned back to the show host.
“Today I’m bringing you one of the most exciting, one of the most intriguing, one of the most daring, and should I say one of the most stupid,” Mick Dirkhead paused for the audience to laugh, “reality TV show competitions of all time!”
He took a moment again, this time for the audience members to murmur quietly amongst themselves before continuing. “That’s right, folks. If you took a walk around the Surfspray Resort and Hotel on what has formerly been known as the Big Island of Hawaii, you won’t see friendly bellhops waiting to take your bags or smiling receptionists behind the front desk to check you in. Oh, no! Instead you’ll see… guards.”
Hawaii. So that’s where they were. No one had bothered to tell her until now. Of course, they weren’t allowed to call it Hawaii anymore. After Amity’s People Party took control of the world, they vowed to rename everything to prove their rulership, and referring to places by their original names would be considered an act of treason. Of course, it was taking the People Party a while to come up with new names, so pretty much everywhere was referred to as formerly known as...
Show host Mick Dirkhead was silent a moment for effect, and then went on dramatically, while Kaelia rolled her eyes. “Armed guards. Posted outside every door, every window. Why do we have armed guards, you might ask? Well, guards are very much needed when you’re hosting twenty conniving, bloodthirsty, dangerous criminals, plucked fresh from prisons all over the new world of Amity!”
The audience gasped in horror, and then roared in disapproval at their crimes. Kaelia yawned and stretched a kink out of her neck, wondering when this would be over. But Mick Dirkhead went on and on, yapping endlessly about how great this show was going
to be; there would be dangerous challenges and complex tests, the contestants at times competing against each other, other times against themselves. The challenges would be so perilous they might result in serious injury or death, and those who were eliminated from the competition would be sent back to whatever hellhole they came from anyway. But the men, or women, left standing, the winner and the two runners up –
“Freedom!” Mick Dirkhead announced. “For the first-place finalist, their prison sentence will be eliminated completely. For the second and third, their sentences will be reduced to one and two years, respectively. It’s something this sorry lot of thieves, murderers and traitors never dared let themselves believe was possible—until today. And with that freedom? Prize money! That’s right! Enough cold hard cash to keep one winner satisfied with all of life’s many offerings for the rest of their days, if they’re careful, that is. Don’t go spending it all in one place now, right kids?”
Mick Dirkhead winked at the audience, and while a ripple of laughter drifted over the rows of seats, Lux Beacon leaned over and lightly touched Kaelia’s arm. “You look bored,” he observed softly.
Kaelia arched an eyebrow at him and moved her arm away. “You aren’t?” she asked.
Lux shrugged, and Kaelia had to check herself. It might not do to appear quite so apathetic if the other contestants were taking this seriously. She sat up a little straighter in her chair.
“But the contestants you see before you aren’t the only ones with a chance to walk away with a hefty sum of dough,” Mick Dirkhead went on. “That’s right! Each contestant you see sitting here before you will be paired with a trainer. Their very own personal trainer to help kick their butts back into shape and prepare for the competition. And believe you me, with so much money at stake here, these trainers are going to do everything in their power to push their protégé to succeed!”
Kaelia furrowed her brow, disgruntled. Trainer? As if she needed a trainer! If anything, she might be able to teach whoever this trainer was a few tricks. Sure, she might need to get back into shape, but what she really needed was rest, and good food. Not to be trained. Been there, done that.
“Judging from their performances during the elimination ceremony yesterday,” Matt Dirkhead was flapping his gums again. “Each contestant has been paired with a trainer based on their strengths and abilities, or lack thereof. Today, trainer and protégé will be meeting for the first time, starting with…” The show host flipped open an envelope and read from a card, “Contestant No. 7, Emmanuel Kant!”
Kaelia peered down the row of sixteen chairs, trying to get a glimpse of the man who’d been the first one to claim a spot as finalist yesterday. Turned out, she didn’t have to, his picture and stats appeared on several screens all around her. Another beefy meathead with a shaved head, crooked nose and long, bushy black beard, Emmanuel Kant had been convicted for a slew of armed robberies, after which he tied up his victims at gunpoint and left them locked in small spaces to die. Luckily, none of them did.
Mick Dirkhead read off Emmanuel Kant’s crimes to the audience, along with his age -– twenty-nine, and the length of time he’d spent in a work prison - one year, two months. He commented on his performance yesterday during the elimination ceremony, and then paired him with a trainer named Ace Calhoun. Kaelia watched as a stereotypical gym-rat with unnaturally huge muscles rose from one of the front seats of the audience and made his way up to the stage, waving and smiling all the while.
Kaelia frowned as she realized the entire front row of audience members were actually these ‘personal trainers’. They all had the same look about them, even the few women amongst them. Not only were they tan and gorgeous, but their bodies were sculpted and toned, and they all made sure to wear clothes that indicated they spent most of their free time with weights clutched between their fists.
Except one. Kaelia’s eyes lighted on him and zeroed in, her breath picking up. He was different from the rest in a way Kaelia couldn’t quite put her finger on. Of course, there were the obvious factors, like instead of spandex or athletic attire, he wore a loose-fitting linen shirt and blue jeans. No, it was something in his demeanor, the way he held himself, the way he looked bored instead of eager like the rest of them – kind of like her.
He was stocky, well-built, but his muscles weren’t bought in a gym, they’d been cultivated from years of hard work, Kaelia could tell. They looked natural on him, not fake. She let her eyes wander over him some more; his curly, dark-blond hair was clipped neat and short, his face hard as if it had been chiseled from stone, and his eyes…
Suddenly, he caught her looking at him, and Kaelia batted her own eyes away, pretending to be interested in the show host. Mick Dirkhead was still moving down the line of contestants, introducing each of them before pairing them with a trainer, and then introducing the trainer as well. One by one the front row of the audience came forth to stand behind the chair of their new protégé, as Mick Dirkhead had called them. Protégés. Kaelia had to choke back a laugh. That was a good one.
“Lux Beacon!” Kaelia snapped to attention when she saw who she was seated next to on the wall, his white teeth practically taking up the whole screen. She looked up at him as Mick Dirkhead read his stats, his expression placid though he still managed a small grin, and Kaelia finally learned what he’d been convicted of—selling secrets of Amity’s People Party to the rebels. Her stomach recoiled, remembering the others, the ones still back in Krakian who were in for the same thing or similar. When Amity’s People Party took over the world, they’d ruthlessly arrested anyone who had opposed them, until nearly half the population was jailed.
Lux was assigned a trainer – a woman named Maddie Drew, and the crowd went wild, whooping and whistling. Kaelia wrinkled her nose, wondering what the fuss was about. She glanced at Ms. Drew as she stood behind Lux’s chair, the bracelets on her wrists clinking together as she waved and smiled at the audience, her perfect teeth a match for Lux’s own. In fact, perfect might just have been Maddie Drew’s middle name. She had ash blonde hair straight from a bottle, a graceful figure and porcelain face – her looks were so predictable they were boring. Kaelia caught Lux watching her, and he grinned cockily. What, she mouthed, but he seemed to get a kick out of that too before looking away.
And then it was her turn. She gritted her teeth while her picture was displayed on huge screens on every wall in the large room, refusing to be embarrassed. Kaelia Elowyn Nemesis. Professional hitman-for-hire. Responsible for the deaths of senators and stockbrokers and prominent businessmen all over the world, all of them dirty crooks and killers themselves, though you wouldn’t catch the likes of Mick Dirkhead saying so.
The audience booed her: disgusted, horrified, shocked by her depravity. Kaelia stared so hard into the space in front of her, her eyes began to water. Mick Dirkhead read aloud how long she’d been in Krakian, three years, two months, and Kaelia felt slightly better when she heard the audience murmur in astonishment, perhaps even sympathy. She realized none of the other competitors had been away for more than a year, maybe two, tops. She was also the youngest contestant announced so far; just twenty-two, convicted at age nineteen. To live so long in a prison camp was an accomplishment in itself, Kaelia reminded herself, and soon, she’d win this whole damn competition. Let the audience boo then.
During her fury, she’d barely heard the name of the trainer assigned to her. Had it been Kal… something, or was Mick Dirkhead simply repeating her own name? She searched the stage, but whoever it was had already made it behind the line of chairs. Kaelia could turn and look, but she didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of appearing interested in this stupid circus-act of an event. Instead, she gazed out into the audience, her eyes searching for the curly haired man with the rock-hard expression, but when she located his seat, it was empty.
Chapter 3
Callan
Her? They’d given him her? The pale one with the dark burnished hair, the cold-blooded and soulless assassin. Callan c
ould barely contain his displeasure as he moved to stand behind her chair, his eyes flicking desperately over the other contestants, nearly any of whom would have done nicely over her. And if Callan had to bet his money on a winner, it would have been on the barbaric-looking Elgren Farrow or Grady Lair. That’s who he should have got. And instead they gave him one of the only women out of the twenty finalists? He was one of the best trainers. He knew he was, hands down.
The competition was as good as over in Callan’s eyes. He couldn’t understand it – to waste his talents on her. This… Kaylee whatever her name was. At least he could have gotten Jessamine Bellagio, the rebel soldier, if he had to get a female. Not that she would have been much better. Callan wasn’t sexist or anything, but it was pretty obvious the four women contestants were here for one reason and one reason only—sex appeal. Well, three women anyway. He really wasn’t sure what the deal was with No. 72. Maybe she’d been attractive once, and the judges had picked her based on a very old photo.
What he was sure about was that there was no way he was going to win with No. 72, but Callan had signed a contract. He couldn’t back out of it now, not without bringing on a lawsuit. At least they were still going to pay him to train this… girl. He glanced at her stats on the wall before they replaced them with the next contestant’s. She was only twenty-two, three years younger than him, a baby, probably the youngest here, and she’d been in the Krakian work prison for over three years. Well, no wonder she looked like she was about to drop dead at any moment, no one lasted in Krakian for more than a year. He wondered what the use of training her would be. She was skinny and sickly, and so, so pale.
