DEATH GAMES

"They ask me if I feel anything, watching them die. I tell them what they want to hear. The truth is, I stopped feeling it somewhere around the third match  - and that number tells you something, if you let it. The games don't make monsters. They just give us permission to find out what we already are."

• Mika Nishimuro, Senior Shitō Syndicate Executive
  Day 5 of The Blooming Death, 126 AP

DEATH GAMES night in Neon City. The Shitō runs on a schedule, but the city runs on the Shitō -  it feels like the city is holding its breath in anticipation when the feeds go live.

The crowd selects their feeds and places their bets before the first match begins. From inside a booth, the leather warm and the drinks cold, it is easy to forget that the perspective you have chosen belongs to a living human being.

The gates open. Ten warriors walk into the dark. The math is simple and has never changed: at most five will walk back out, most likely fewer.

The arena swallows them. In the first few seconds, every fighter is making the same calculations — where is cover, where is the enemy, and which of the two matters more right now.

Most teams immediately split into two smaller fire teams, covering each other's flanks. the fifth member hangs back, covering the rear and providing overwatch - a basic tactic the syndicate's combat instructors drill into every new contestant, knowing that the ones who cluster together, will simply die quicker.

A warrior of the green team spots the first target in the darkness and fires without hesitation...

First blood goes to green — though the kill is a Transmission Thrall, not a combatant. The betting markets log it regardless. Somewhere in the city above, someone just won a small wager on the timing.

The sound of the first exchange quickly draws both teams toward each other. Within seconds, careful tactical positioning dissolves into something faster and uglier - and considerably more entertaining for the spectators.

The teams trade kills in the flickering dark. The feeds spike with viewer numbers each time a body drops. The syndicate's executives are watching the engagement graphs in real time, satisfied with the carnage.

Additional Transmission Thralls are directed toward the fighting by their tactical overlays. They move obediently toward the sound of gunfire and capture breathtaking combat footage. 

The last two fighters find each other across broken ground and immediately look for cover. They have both survived long enough to know that the one who loses their nerve first, will be the next one to die...

The Thralls crowd the edges of the engagement, their yellow visible even in the poor light, their cameras capturing everything. They are the frightened witnesses of the carnage.

The nearest fighter feels the Thrall is giving away her position and kills her.

The enemy fighter uses the moment of distraction to quickly close the gap and deliver a close range kill, ending the match!

Match over. The feeds cut to the scoreboard and the betting payouts cascade through the system. Fortunes shift in fractions of a second, the syndicate's cut already taken before the first winner checks their balance.

The kill-cams run the night's highlights in sequence, verifying the exact order of deaths for the purpose of settling the more complex wagers.

The dead are left where they fell during the post-match replays — the syndicate has found that the sight of them enhances the appetite for the next event, rather than diminishing it. 

In the syndicate's private observation level, a senior executive reviews the night's engagement data. The numbers are good. They are almost always good. She marks the session a success and moves on to the showcase schedule.

The interval between events is precisely timed, long enough to get another drink and place a new bet, short enough that no one has time to think too carefully about it.

Combat Slaves are herded into the kill-floor for the showcase bout. Conscripted from the city's labour pools, prisoners or freshly purchased just for the event, they are given enough basic weapon training to make the forthcoming spectacle last longer than it otherwise would. 

The first champion of the night enters. The Gunslinger needs no announcement — her silhouette is recognisable to anyone who has ever watched he Shitō!

The Gunslinger moves through the arena, killing slaves with the unhurried confidence of someone who has done this many times and expects nothing tonight to change the outcome. She is not wrong.

Next up is the Raven! The Raven prefers stealth and a mixed combat style, but tonight she mostly kills with her talons.

The last Champion of the night is the Death Cultist, killing countless slaves with her blades in a blur of flashing steel.

She doesn't stop after the slaves are eliminated, slaughtering even the Transmission Thralls before her bloodlust is sated!

With the champion showcases finished, he crowds are getting increasingly excited - they are ready for the night's final event!

A large number of Combat Slaves are released into the arena, their faces marked by fear.

The final champion of the night enters the arena. The Demi-mutant's minigun spits death from the first moment he appears - this is the BLOODBATH event!

Combat Slaves are mowed down, while their return fire bounces harmlessly of the Demi-mutant's armour and hide.

Some of the Combat Slaves attempt to retreat and re-group...

...but against the Demi-mutant's killing power, all of their efforts are in vain...

Finally, the minigun falls silent.

The violent energy that the arena generates does not stay inside the arena and riots erupt in many of the syndicate's viewing parlours. The syndicate maintains a large security force precisely for this reason. The syndicate's cleanup costs and losses in personnel are already factored into the operating budget.

After the rioting settles down, as most spectators think the Death Games are finished for the night, the feeds suddenly come back to life, transmitting the view from a lonely Transmission Thrall that has been sent to wander the underground maze.

All of a sudden, she realises the games are not finished. She and the other Transmission Thralls left alive in the arena, have a role to play in the final event of the night...