average human’s Reviews > Drop His Mask > Status Update

“The rules on this are to the point. You are no longer connected as a team. If one of you dies, the others will survive. Consider this a lawless game with one goal in mind: to reach the finish line. The last one to do so will perish. It is time to cull the weakest link.”
A race?
Maybe if my body was healed, and I didn’t have a literal hole in my side. But how could I hope to beat the other men? Even if they promised me protection, surely they wouldn’t lose a race on my behalf.
“And as in life, some of you may be given an advantage.” The Host’s dark pupils bled into his irises, appearing nearly monster-like. “My sweet lovelies, my birdies, my swift little bunny. The time is now.” Where he had sung the rest of the words, “now” was urgent, loud, painful. He barked it. His dark eyes staring pointedly ahead.
Swift little…bunny?
Too many coincidences is not a coincidence.
“Julie?” I whispered nearly inaudibly.
The Host froze, his eyes widening, his mouth opening to speak, and then the screen went blank. The wall, where The Host’s face had been, lowered into the ground. His lyrical voice no longer echoing around us.
It’s him. It’s Julian.
Now that the thought had manifested, it had nowhere to go except to dig its way into my gut. A moment of clarity, a realization so heavy I could never hope to work through it.
Julian. My best friend growing up.
He was The Host?
How is he here?
I was an idiot for not realizing it sooner, for not noticing his familiar eyes, the way he had called me bunny, even his voice. He had thrown it into a different pitch, but it was still there, underneath the falsity.
Who else would I meet here in the Masquerade? What else would come to light? How much more could I take of it?
Had Julian truly betrayed me?
He had known about Sparrow after all. What if…
I didn’t allow the thought to manifest.
Later. Later. Later. I would push my emotions, my feelings, my despair into a later moment.
The entire room shook, and the floor before us and around us began to partially give way. My pulse raced as the track turned into a terrifying labyrinth of platforms to jump between. Even the space between my teammates and me had fallen into the depths below, leaving a gap.
As the seconds passed, the holes where the floor had been began to fill with clear liquid, the space suffusing with a noxious smell. As it did so, some of it came up, splashing onto the leg of my sweats. After a moment, searing pain stabbed there as the liquid dissolved the material and made its way to my skin. My nostrils flared as the revolting smell of my melting skin flooded the air around me.
Swallowing my scream, I brought my feet back and up under the chair, trying to keep them protected. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if my entire body fell into the toxic liquid.
What had seemed before to be a simple race was now a game of deadly hopscotch to the end.
“Soon, two of the player’s restraints will give way. They have been given an advantage and a head start. Once the siren signals, you are to make it to the end however you can.” At the very far wall, a flashing neon banner lit up. “Please note you are not to interact until the start of the game. Please note that you are not to fall into the space between the platforms. Please note that the next two players will begin five minutes after.” This was not The Host’s voice that echoed around us, but instead, it was the robotic trill I had grown accustomed to.
My eyes jumped around the room, the concrete platforms that were different distances apart, the terrifying liquid that oozed between them, the distance it would take to get to the end. The game seemed to extend the entire span of the room, with just a thin walkway on each side to allow for the doors in the space to open and close.
I was shorter, I was injured, but I wouldn’t give up.
My cuffs fell to the floor, freeing me.
“What’s your plan here, Dres? Are you going to make it to the finish line? Do you think there is any world where this will go well for you if you do?” Griffin’s fury drew my attention, and I found that it was 194 that had been given the head start with me.
Dres. 194.
He was getting to his feet. Even from this distance I could see his tattooed knuckles. The HURT and PAIN, reminders of who I would be playing this game with.
A knife twisted into my gut as I did my best to stand. Sharp shooting pain stabbed at my ankle and it took everything not to fall to my chair. I was injured worse than I had realized. The liquid, no the acid, had done more damage than I originally thought.
“Do not pretend that you care if I live or die. You are nothing but a parasite that used all of us for your own personal gains and then threw us away at the first chance you could.” Dres’s tone was harsh as it echoed around the room. “You saw a pussy and traded it for one of our men. You saw an escape and you left us to waste away. You are a coward. And you are no leader of mine.”