“A man…who runs through the halls the penitentiary a prisoner. He is panicked and then…the memories stop.”
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Mark winced at the thought. “Yikes. Maybe that’s a sign you should get your head checked or something…” he said, half joking
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“Perhaps I should undergo a psychological examination”
“Well, I’m no doctor, so you should probably do that after the show ends.”
“What are the Bronx you mentioned earlier?”
Mar shrugged. “Oh, just some shady area on earth in a city known as ‘New York’. A lot of Gangsters, guns and drugs there.”
his light flickered a bit
"Oh"he said with quiet rage in his voice
Mark looked over at Ghar. “What do you got?” He said, pointing to the food on Ghar’s plate.
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Q’uiin also peered over to Ghar’s dish, still holding a spoon of something that looked like brains.
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Ghar hadn’t touched his food much since he had arrived at the dinner table.
“Eggs,” he replied to Mark. Ghar glanced towards the head of the table. Perhaps the Gamemaster would be present at this feast.
Soon, a figure stepped forth into the room. It was the Gamemaster. “So, how are you liking your stay so fsr? What do you think of the game?” He asked as he took a seat at the head of the table, setting aside his cane.
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“I’m interested in knowing why you’ve gathered us all here. And more importantly, how you know of us all.”
“You ask a lot of questions…” the Gamemaster responded. “You see, Ghar, I have eyes and ears everywhere. I hired men to scour high and low throughout the universe, to find the most perfect and fierce warriors for this competition. You didn’t find this tournament. It found you.”
The Gamemaster paused to take a sip from his wine glass.
“I know so much about you, because many people have spent time studying each of you individually, including things such as your personalities, habits and interests. It helps me to better pick the competetors for matches.”
The Gamemaster then leaned closer towards Ghar. “For example, I know about your little ‘plate’ hobby.” He whispered.
“Do you plan on taking that with you?” The Gamemaster asked, pointing to Ghar’s dinnerplate.
Ghar would then notice that his own plate seemed to be fancier, more elegant than the others, as if it were a premeditated decision based on his habits. (Which it was)
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Helix suddenly returns the cheese to the table, platter rattling as the cheese bounces to a stop. He stares at the Gamemaster. “Are you a snake?” Obviously his crab theory had been ludicrous; crabs had claws, the Gamemaster didn’t.
“Do I look like one to you?” The Gamemaster asked. “I mean, I dont really even know what you are. Even after all of the observation and research we have done on you.” He said as he took a bite of his steak.
“What makes you think I’m a snake anyways?”
“You’re wearing a mask; you could be anything.”
“Except a crab,” he adds after a beat. “You’re definitely not a crab.”
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“I guess so…”
Mark watched as the various warriors joked and laughed, showing off their powers. He had none of that. He was barely in the league of any of these people, if at all. Yet here he was. Mark looked down at his plate. Perhaps coming here may have been a mistake…
Later that night, after the feast, Mark lay in his bunk, staring up at the ceiling.
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“Guys?” He suddenly asked out loud. “Is it just me, or does something seem a bit…off about this whole competition?”
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“Yes,” Helix agrees from his bunk. “I expected a tournament to have more fighting. I suppose I still have much to learn about this world…”
“I didn’t mean that…” Mark said. “Although I’m sure you’ll get your chance to fight soon.” He then rolled over in his bed. “What I meant was, something seems suspicious about this situation. With the Gamemaster, and the invitations, and how he knew our favorite foods…”
“Perhaps a routine search is in order”