Shattered Remnants of a Dream

70. O.D.ed

"Here's contestant #2499, Winslow Bandeaux!" Trunculo announced as Winslow sauntered up to the platform. "Valedictorian of his graduating class at the Vonnornoth Psynergy Research Institute – a genius for sure, but don't call him a bookworm, or he might just be inclined to dissect you!"

Winslow placed his hand over the breast of his institute coat, bowed extravagantly, and smiled at the crowd. Not many people smiled back.

"Coming up from the southern sector, we have Jordan Skye! He came into the tournament with his trusty laser pistols, but due to a catastrophe that happened during the final preliminary round, both of them were accidentally destroyed! Will this experienced fighter be able to win the battle without his own weapons?!"

A short man with ear-length white hair and a curled mustache stepped up to the platform. He wore a thick combat vest lined with vials of glowing liquid, while straps on his leather leggings held two empty gun holsters.

"Alright, boys!" Trunculo called out. "Get ready, get set, aaaaaand...fight!"

Winslow immediately removed a sickle from the confines of his jacket and held it up to his opponent. "Here. You lost your weapon in the previous round, didn't you? Take one of mine."

Jordan put his fists up defensively. "What are they, set to explode? Don't make me laugh!"

"Come on, just take it." Winslow offered one of the sickles out with an earnest expression on his young face. "It's against my code of honor to attack an unarmed man. I just can't do it, and I'd be no good in a fistfight. Let's have a fair match here."

Jordan raised an eyebrow skeptically. "How do I know it's not rigged?"

"Look." Winslow held the sickles up in the air. "See? They both have nicks, scratches, and bloodstains on them. They are my beloved weapons of choice. Would you rig your own guns to explode?"

Jordan inched a bit closer to his opponent. "So be it. Just throw it in the center there."

"Fine." Winslow tossed the sickle into the center of the arena. "I'll wait until you pick it up and move back to your spot to start."

"Most gracious of you."

Jordan walked carefully over to the sickle, then looked into Winslow's eyes once more. He slowly bent down, reached out his hand to the weapon, and then, without grabbing it, charged straight toward his opponent.

"Fool!" he screamed, releasing a psynergy blast from both hands. "You actually thought I'd–"

But it was too late. The sickle had flown up behind the man, and since he had focused his psynergy on his hands, his jugular was left completely open. Winslow's sickle whirled in a clean arc and slashed straight through Jordan's neck. Blood squirted out as he collapsed, and Winslow's sickle floated softly back across the arena into his hands.

"What an idiot!" Winslow cackled, arching his back as his obnoxious laughter reached its peak. "Stupid old fart! I can't believe he even made it this far!"

"Yes, I know, I know, not much of a battle!" Trunculo spoke up nervously over the booing crowd. "But at least you got some bloodshed! In any case, Winslow has proven himself the winner of the seventh round! Congratulations! Now someone get out here and clean that guy up before he stains the entire arena!"

Winslow continued to chuckle as he spun his sickles around his fingers and taunted the crowd..

"Vance!" he shouted as he brought one of the sickles up to his neck and slid it across the air. "You're next! And your death will be a thousand times more satisfying!"