Theater of Pain 2099UG #2

Act 2 of 4: Desire

The Curtain Rises

The Island of Hawaii, 2099

Once, this island and it's brothers claimed fame as a vacation retreat, a place for families and for lovers. Today, only those seeking death reach the island's obsidian shores, only to find something worse. A citadel rises on the superheated slopes of Mauna Loa, a scar on the surface of the earth and the sadistic heart of humanity. The Theatre of Pain.

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Scene 1

They stood at opposite ends of the Pits. One, a tall muscular man, his body tensed for battle and his mind clear of distractions. The other, a young woman stands shivering, alone and terrified out of her mind. Surrounding the two opponents are the worlds filth. The wealthy, depraved and sadistic. They have come for a one time showing of this presentation. The Theatre of Pain promises high quality entertainment, and the Theatre delivers when promised.

For a moment Aliana believed she was dreaming. After waking from her gas induced sleep, she was roughly pushed out into the pit, dressed only in a padded body suit. No weapons, and no chance. At the other end she spotted her opponent moving towards her. It took her a moment, but finally the face registered to her mind, the bloodfighter she saw earlier! However, there was something wrong with the way he was staring at her, cold and unemotional. The it dawned on her. He was coming to kill her.

She backed away from him fearfully. He was dressed in the loincloth of a Bloodfighter and his lower right arm was clad in a heavy black gauntlet. She could just barely see the web of wires which covered its surface. She had seen a glove like that once before, during a session where she was forced to watch her mistress Fyre torture a young woman. Known as a Shock-Gauntlet, Aliana knew it could give off a powerful enough charge of electricity to kill a person.

"Kill her!!!" a voice cried out from the stands. Aliana turned briefly to see an obese man standing on two short stubby legs. His face was beet red as he screamed for her blood. A mesh-like suit covered his pallid fleshy body, a receptor for various sensations such as pain and the rush of adrenaline. His cries spread through the rest of the audience like wild fire.

"I'm sorry to have to do this," a voice said nearby. Her wide terrified eyes turned to see the Gladiator looming over her.

"You can't . . " she pleaded, dropping to her knees, to weak to stand.

He shook his head in pity and moved towards her, his right hand extended.

Her scream echoed in his mind for an instant. Chris Blake stared at the girls body as currents of powerful electricity coursed through her. He felt his own blood rush through his veins, the effect of the Stimulant still strong. The nanites in his blood transmitted his feelings to the audience out within the stands. Out of the corner of his eye he could see many of them, the weaker ones, already revelled in the feeling of the drug. Their minds saw this as nothing but harmless entertainment. That thought left Chris feeling empty.

Another feeling intruded onto his mind, something he had last felt decades ago, the day he killed Erik; guilt. Death and murder wasn't new to him, after all was he not one of the Theatres most prominent Gladiators? Her death would be just one among the many hundreds he had caused in his life. But still, there was something. He released the grip he held on her and watched as her prone body dropped to the ground below. A reddened section of flesh, shaped to the dimensions of his hand burned into her shoulder. Her hair was frizzled and standing on end from the electricity. His sensitive hearing, another effect of the Stimulant, honed in on the sound of her crying as she lay in the dirt.

Pity and compassion welled within him, he wasn't sure why. He had seen worse. He had done worse.

Around him, the bloodthirsty masses screamed and howled in frustration. They wanted a better show than this. As he faced them he heard a voice over the 'Pit's loudspeaker. It wasn't loud enough to surpass the audience, but Chris was able to hear it. "There's no point in waiting, Gladiator. You know what happens if you don't remember your lines. It's your decision, either last curtain for her, or for you."

"I have to then, I'm not going to die he . . ." before he finished his thought something caught him hard in the back, just below his ribs.

He hit the ground hard and felt a weight on top of him. A flash of heat was all he felt as claws raked across his chest and towards his throat. A cheer rose from the crowd as the first blood was drawn. Chris pushed his torso upwards, propelling the weight from his shoulders. He turned in time to see the young woman, the one who had moments ago been in tears, staring at him with violence in her eyes.

His challenger didn't give him a chance to react and approached swiftly, her long legs covering the distance between them easily. There was, however, more than enough time for him to prepare for her assault. He crouched low to the ground, and turned his right hand palm up. As he expected she slammed into him at full force, but instead of being knocked over, he instead pushed upwards with his right hand, the hand covered in the Shock-Gauntlet, and sent her over his shoulder along with a burst of electricity.

She landed with a cry, looking at her stomach where a reddened palm print had been burned into her skin. The Gladiator turned and launched his own attack, flinging his body at her. She rolled out of the way in time, but her hand raked across his back leaving four long red scratches. They burned, but he ignored the pain and lashed out towards her. One of the effects of the Stimulant was an increase in his threshold of pain, even as his sensation of it grew.

In the stands the audience members gasped and cried along with each of his movements. The scratches burned just as badly for those wearing the Stimuli-Suits as they did for him. The Sensation Webs merely transmitted a small sensation of carefully adjusted pain. Many received an additional sensation of pleasure as their own off-balance minds took satisfaction in enjoying another's pain and stress. For these people, this was as close as they would ever come to danger, to death. Gladiator could feel blood oozing from the scratches the woman had already inflicted.
His arm caught the woman on the side of her face but it didn't slow her down. In a single fluid movement she rose to her feet and slammed her knee into his chest. The blow was painful, but not debilitating. He gritted his teeth and backed away slightly, forcing air back into his emptied lungs. He had underestimated her before, but wouldn't again. After several years of fighting, he knew how to recognize a dangerous opponent. Her movements seemed tinged with uncertainty, but there was also an instinctive quality in her attacks.

She circled him, much like a predator stalking its prey. He stared directly into her eyes, trying to find some indication as to her next movement. Instead he saw something which shocked him, she was confused! And even worse, there was something familiar about them, something he couldn't place. Her eyes moved little, but they were clearly distraught. A moment later however, the confusion was replaced with conviction and she leapt again to attack.

This time she landed a few paces short of him, curled into a tight ball and went for his legs. He jumped in time to avoid her landing to the side. Flexing his right arm slightly, he sent the gauntlet covered hand towards her throat. While his first shock hadn't hurt her noticeably, he knew a few seconds of electricity pumped into her throat would be enough to kill her. He was surprised when, instead of trying to dodge she instead thrust out her hand and grabbed his own. He could feel the electricity flowing into her and the smell of burning flesh began to assault his nose.

"How . . .?' he asked, stunned as she merely took in the shock. He tried to let go of her but before he could she reached out and grabbed his arm, completing the circuit. The electricity flowed from her body to his sending pain through each limb. He could feel his muscles tightening. Before any permanent damage could be done he pulled his hand loose and swept his leg into hers.

They both turned to face each other. The Gladiator's eyes went to her hand, where he could see red and black scorched skin.

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Scene 2

Fyre lounged in the environmentally controlled comfort of the Splatterpit control room. A large window overlooked the scene below where the two opponents circled each other. Her pale face, framed by striking red hair, was drawn into a malicious smile. She wore a simple one piece green body suit and a pair of black boots. Her long fingers tapped the control panel as she watched the fight.

"Was the change your doing?" she asked the rooms only other occupant.

The other person, a woman of middle years sat near the edge of the room, her brow furrowed in concentration. "No, it was her own decision. This was a big step for her Fyre."

Fyre considered that for a moment. If Aliana was using her instincts by her own violation, than perhaps she was farther along in the process than they had hoped. "But what if this doesn't take hold, I won't allow this scene to come down on our opening night."

"Trust me," the other said calmly. Her eyes opened, revealing sapphire like eyes. Their crystalline structure glinted in the soft lighting of the room. "I've worked with our young stars for far longer than even you could conceive."

"Well, it better. My last project caused the Theatre too much embarrassment for Brimstone Love's tastes."

"Whatever did happen to her? The last I had heard you had turned her loose onto the mountainside during the eruption."

Fyre turned to face the woman, "Well, the show had to be salvaged, and if I had to sacrifice the star, then so be it."

"Well, you'll be happy to know that Aliana's mind is not rejecting her impulses. It seems that your training sessions are taking effect."

"We'll see."

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Scene 3

Aliana felt the pain in her hand, but ignored it. Her foe was circling her, trying to get behind her. The one thought which filled her mind, kill or be killed. Her tortured mind would only allow her that one thought. She swept her left leg out, missing his own as the Gladiator leapt over it.

"Damn," she yelled as her opponent moved in towards her again. She could see red welts and the long thin scratches she had inflicted running up his chest. She wanted to laugh, but held back. She could feel something within her beginning to change, but she couldn't tell what it was.

As she circled with the man, the memory of that boy she had been forced to torture returned. She faced the same dilemma now. If she didn't try and kill this Gladiator, she would be killed herself. She had no desire to die, even if her life was hell, with each day becoming worse and worse. Could she continue for much longer in her present life? Doubts on her own mortality often invaded her mind. She had seen more death in her few years of life than many people saw in decades.

Her mouth was dry and her breath hot. She felt her muscles beginning to tire. 'Not yet,' she thought. She wasn't ready to die. She flickered her eyes past his shoulder towards the large exit doors. Her ploy seemed to work as the Gladiator's own gaze was momentarily drawn away from her. She took the opportunity and reached for him, trying to wrap her hands around his neck.

When his own strong hands grabbed her throat, however, she realized her ruse hadn't worked at all. His own strength was greater then her own and he began to throttle her. As much as she tried she couldn't get any air down her throat. Her fingers raked repeatedly across his chest, each time a series of sighs and screams washed over the audience.

Spots formed before her eyes as her life was slowly being squeezed out of her. Desperation filled her as she struggled against his grip. She flexed her own fingers, preparing for her last gambit. As the last remaining air in her body was used up she struck with her fingers and plunged one deep into his left eye.

Pain. There is no other word than comes even close to explaining it. The definition of pain is almost always accompanied by other words or phrases in an attempt to explain it better or with more emphasis. Yet for Chris Blake, none of these other words came to mind at this particular moment. In fact he was slightly surprised that he could even think about the pain at all.

His hands released their death grip on the woman and fled to his eye. Liquid poured to the sandy ground as he fell to his knees. Even the pain reducing effects of the Stimulant were unable to dull the fire in what was his eye. Had he been oblivious to the pain racing through his head, he may have noticed the mass of people writhing in agony within the audience. Those who had managed to remain conscious after the initial blow now screamed and tore frantically at the suits which connected them to him so intimately.

He kept his right eye shut tight, as though this would make it less vulnerable to any further damage. His body twisted on the floor as the pain escaped his lips in a heavy moan.

Aliana stared at the man on the ground. Blood poured from between his tightly clenched fingers, coating the ground in red. Her finger was sticky and she could feel the liquid dripping from her nail. "I had to do it," she told herself as she watched him writhe. Around her alarms rang and emergency personnel were helping their respective clients out of the various sensation devices.

"Help me!" a man screamed from the audience. Aliana looked in his direction as the man, elderly with black hair and a cybernetic hook-up extending from his temple. He clawed at his own face which was now as bloody as her fallen adversary.

"Well done, sister," a voice said behind her. A cool hand touched Aliana on the shoulder and turned her around. Fyre stood before her with a wicked smile. "I see your instincts have truly sharpened." Something in her voice hinted that Fyre was speaking to Aliana as an equal and not as a mistress.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Fyre knelt beside the Bloodfighter. She pulled his hands away from his face, revealing the wound. A mass of torn tissue hung loosely from under the lid and rivulets of blood and puss flowed down his cheek.

"Well, you didn't panic when he grabbed you. That alone is quite remarkable for someone of your limited experience." Fyre stood and faced Aliana. "Now all you have to do is make a choice."

"Choice?"

"Yes," Fyre replied. She motioned to the large crowd who were slowly being helped to their feet. "You did all of this, you alone. Quite an accomplishment for a new star." Fyre lead Aliana away from the 'Pits before continuing, "I know you want your pain to stop. I've seen you cry out as we worked you over. Never did I think it would have been this simple."

Fear rose within Aliana. She feared where this conversation would go to. Instead of replying she merely remained silent. The two of them passed out of the 'Pit and into the corridors beyond.

"I can release you into a new life, one filled with more than pain. One filled with pleasure, control. A world where you are the master."

Master. A place where she was in control. It seemed too good to be true. For her entire life everything was decided for her.

"Your eyes tell me my offer interests you. Good," Fyre said smugly. "So you must decide. Do you want freedom, an end to slavery, a chance to be your own person?"

Aliana considered it. By no means did she trust Fyre or anyone else, but could she risk not taking this chance? "Tell me how," was all she said.

"Very well," Fyre said as they walked into the darkness.

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Scene 4

Chris awoke alone. He lay on a single metal bed surrounded by bright fluorescent lights. His head was heavy and he could feel thick bandages on the left side of his face. He could hear a small repetitive beeping sound, a sound which matched the rhythm of his heart perfectly.

"I see you're awake."

Chris tried to focus his right eye on the source of the voice. But the lights were too bright. His left eye, or what was left of it still ached, although it was the dull ache of a pain suppressing drug. He tried to move, but his movements were dulled and sluggish. The drug which attempted to remove his pain, also kept him immobile.

"Ah, I wouldn't try to move if I were you," the voice cautioned him, "You would get less than two steps before dropping like a rock."

"Who are you?" Chris asked with a whisper.

"Let's just call me a Diagnostic Technician and leave it at that."

A shape became more distinct in his vision, and Chris was slowly able to make out the features of his "Diagnostic Technician". A plain white lab coat hung from the body of a emancipated young man with short black hair and a clean-shaven face. A small tool was clasped in the man's hand and it glinted in the brightness.

"Now just hold still for a moment," the young man said as he lowered the tool to Chris' chest. As it neared his face, Chris could see the sharpened edge of a blade. "This is going to sting."

Chris screamed as the blade slid through his skin just over his heart. The pain suppressant did nothing as the skin was pulled away. Finally he fell into the waiting arms of unconsciousness.

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Scene 5

Aliana sat in her new chambers, staring at a bare wall. It was slate grey and seemed to stretch into infinity. It had been several days since her fight in the 'Pits and she had heard nothing from anyone. Except for her talk with Fyre, she was being left in the dark. Anytime she had tried to approach someone, even a guard, they had all shied away from her.

As she had been doing recently her eyes returned to the small video monitor which was embedded into the back wall. It's screen had been locked onto a single image for several days. A small cell, furnished only with a single metal cot. A body rested atop that cot, that of a battered man with a missing eye. From time to time he would get up and move around. Nothing seemed to bother him, no pain or discomfort. Where his left eye had been, now there was only a metallic patch which had been grafted in place. During the first day, a long scar had run across his chest, but it was no more than a faint line now. The only other movement in his cell had occurred two days ago when the Gladiator had been administered his drugs.

She had watched him since their fight, when she had been shown her room. Something about him had captured her attention, something she quite honestly couldn't explain. So when she had first used her monitor it was to watch him. She had watched as the Theatre's doctors operate on him, much to her fascination.

"Still enraptured by our guest?"

The voice pulled Aliana away from the screen. Fyre stood in the doorway of her chambers, hands on hips and head cocked to one side. "So sister, have you decided what you'll do with him yet?" Fyre asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come now. You have yet to begin your work, and it's been almost a week and you have yet to begin work on your first production. Our clients are not the most patient of people."

"I told you I would have my show ready in time and I will. Now please, would you excuse me. I'm rather busy."

Fyre glared at her. "Very well, just remember your opening night arrives soon."

Aliana returned her gaze to the monitor on her wall.

Before leaving, Fyre turned back and spoke, "Oh and he's going to be killed by tonight. Just thought you might want to know Succubus, I can see how important he is to you."

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Scene 6

Chris awoke as the door to his cell slid open. Bright light hurt him as his eye opened. The muscles around his empty left eye socket twitched to no avail. It was the first time in days since he had seen something besides shadowy gloom. He lifted himself to his knees as a figure walked into his cell. Cloaked in long crimson robes and a heavy hood, the person's identity was indecipherable.

"Who are you?" he asked cautiously. Something seemed wrong about this person's appearance in his cell, but he couldn't figure out why.

"You are scheduled to be recycled," the voice told him. Fear knotted in his guts. After all these years, after all the killing, he was going to die. 'I don't want to die,' he thought even while realizing the futility. If the Theatre wanted you dead, you died.

"But," the figure continued, "I'm not going to let that happen." The person pulled the robe down from his head revealing the face of a young woman. More importantly, it was the woman he had fought days earlier in the 'Pits. He scrambled to his feet fully and dropped into a crouch.

"Don't worry," Aliana said, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"I'll bet," Chris spat. His hand moved to his metallic patch, "And I bet you didn't do this either?" He moved forward cautiously.

"You have to understand, you were going to kill me, what was I supposed to do, let you?" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. All I know is that you are going to be killed by the Theatre and I don't want that to happen."

"Why?" he asked cautiously. His instincts seemed uncertain about her.

"I'm not sure. There's just something about you. All I know is I don't want you to be killed."

'There, what is that mark on her cheek?' he thought to himself. Then he realized it. "And I should trust a Norn?"

"You will because you have no other choice." She shifted slightly as though thinking about something. With her decision made, she stared intently at him for an instant. "You'll do it because you want to."

"Yes," he said instantly. 'What am I doing. I don't trust her. But, she wouldn't lie to me, would she?' Chris tried to think about this, but something was different, something was clouding his thoughts. He felt she could be trusted and he wanted to trust her.

"Of course, now we have to find a way to escape. And without getting killed."

"How, the guards are everywhere?"

"I can get us past them, but getting off the island will be near impossible. The only thing I can think of are the private transports for the Theatre 's audience." She paused to think for a moment, "But those craft are among the most heavily guarded parts of the island. Those men and woman take no chances with their property.'

Chris walked over to Aliana and put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, "Then we'll just have show them what an evening of Theatre is all about."

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Scene 7

"Well, Fyre, everything seems to be going as expected. It looks like this might just pay off."

Fyre smiled as she watched the monitor. Within, Succubus and the Gladiator were talking and planning. "Yes, but this last scene will need some special help from a professional if it will go off as planned." She tapped at the control panel to the right of her arm. "Crevice, this is Fyre."

The monitor flickered until it revealed a shadowy face. Red light glowed in the background and screams wafted through the speakers. "Yes Fyre?" a gravely voice responded.

"It seems that two of our young players have decided to improvise their next scene and we, I, need you to help get them back on track."

"All right, tell me where they are and I'll get to work."

"Not so fast, a little work on their part won't hurt. Just be ready on level one and wait for my directions."

"Fine, you know where to reach me," and with that Crevice ended their communication.

"You know Fyre, Crevice has never been all that reliable. Are you sure he'll work?" the woman asked.

"Don't worry Deva, I have everything worked out for the newest production. And by the time the curtain rises, even Felicity will be struck with awe."

Deva smiled wickedly, "Let's just hope your fifteen minutes of fame isn't just that."

Fyre turned and stared at Deva with cold eyes. A flicker of flame danced around her smooth hands as she turned back to the monitor. The screen again showed the Gladiator's cell. This time, however, the two occupants were clasped in an embrace. "Don't worry Deva, this show will be a hit."

NEXT ISSUE: Aliana and Chris attempt to escape, and Crevice is revealed. And we finally meet one of the Theatre's most demented and sadistic clients.