Status Updates From Slashvivor!

Dawn glanced over at Graves, lying face down in the dirt and resembling nothing quite so much as a beached whale. “Him? I’d love a shot at you people, but killing him in this state would be like taking candy from a baby.” “I love taking candy from babies,” Raze whispered, a devilish grin on her face.

DNF,

it was like reading the fighting arena of RAGE 2 .
But instead of playing it you read how they moved left, then right, then crouched.
Not interesting and quite juvenile for 8+ .

“No!” Dawn cried out, out of instinct. She almost looked away, not wanting to witness the giant being shot, but she was pleasantly surprised to hear the ting of bullets being deflected by the man’s enormous chainsaw as he wielded it with expertise.

The cameramen realized there were many run of the mill copycat killers: several gimps howled and humped their cages; a few animatronic murderers sat dormant, only their lifeless eyes glowing in the dark; chainsaws filled the air with noise as some of the killers challenged each other from within their cells.

The Great Eviscerator raised both weapons and fired at once, punching two enormous holes into his victim’s skull, finally putting him out of his misery. The crowd went wild as the off-screen announcer informed them of their incoming commercial break. “We’ll be right back after these messages,” Mark said with a grin.

“Well, our contestants have had their first little break. They’ve even managed to turn the tables on one of our slashers. But I can guarantee you that won’t be happening for the next one. You all came out to see a little blood tonight, didn’t you?” Never before had the crowd seemed to be so composed of inbred hicks and mutants. They were practically frothing at the mouths at the thought of more people dying.

“I didn’t think we’d get so lucky so early! But it looks like one of our contestants has just found herself in…Sudden Death! What advice would you give her, folks?” The crowd responded with “Try Not to Die!” “Our contestant and slasher have just sixty seconds to try and kill the other or they’ll both be terminated immediately! And we all know how dull our auto-executions are.”

She slid across the filthy floor and quickly hopped back to her feet. She looked around and though she could hear the roar of the crowd, the spotlights above were so bright that she was barely able to see anything beyond the latticework dome surrounding her. Instinctively, she looked for a weak point, some way to escape the oversized cage, but she was no fool. No one ever escaped Try Not to Die.

“Make that nine kills!” Mark announced to wild whoops of approval. Zippermouth began humping the dead body of the guard. Luckily, the camera quickly cut away. “Whoa, come on now, Zippermouth, kids are watching at home,” Mark said with a chuckle. The audience laughed in unison as Zippermouth let out an exasperated grunt and climbed off the guard’s corpse.

The arena was so silent you could’ve heard a pin drop. “When the phenomenon first started in the late ‘70s, there was a lot of pearl-clutching that it meant society was breaking down. Our very values were falling apart. And in the ‘80s, when it reached its heyday, particularly after the bombs fell, everyone seemed terrified that a slasher was waiting around every corner.

“I’m into fashion,” Dawn finally answered. “Can’t you tell?” She gestured down at her hole-riddled t-shirt and denim overalls and flashed him a big fake smile. Mark chuckled, a noise he had obviously spent years perfecting and yet so divorced from any real human emotion that it grated on Dawn’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. “Well, maybe your fashion sense will catch on. Maybe they’ll call that look ‘the Dawn!’”

Not sure how to feel yet. I think I like it? TBD.