The Government Game

CHAPTER EIGHT

After all the illegally-obtained films he'd watched, those crazy Hollywood ones, he knew he was destined to win this Game.

His item, a tomahawk, was nothing special as a ranged weapon; but, he supposed, as a melee weapon, he could do worse.

He was sneaking around the arena, occasionally stopping for a drink of the Leader's provided "innards": water. He had to be very, very careful and he was being very, very careful. He had to be ready at a moment's notice. For all he knew, he could be being watched right now.

That made the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. Oh dear.

 It was nearly nine o'clock in the morning. Boy, he was anxiety-ridden. He knew nothing of the Government Game. He kind of figured, perhaps, that the Game was imposed upon the citizens of the Regime because of the fact that it instilled distrust among citizens, which may prevent an uprising. Perhaps the Government was just cruel as hell and held the Game because of that very reason.

He didn't know, and for now, he didn't care. All he knew was that he had to win! He was invictus in life, and would be in the Game, too.

 He gripped the handle of his tomahawk firmly as he snuck from bush to bush. He cringed whenever he snapped a twig under his shoe, triggering a sound that sounded awfully loud in this quiet place. Leaves crunched underneath the soles of his shoes, too, and that also made him wince.

This man, Ashton Harker, a film buff, knew all the wicked tricks he saw from the illegal Hollywood films, and he knew if push came to shove, he'd win in a fight.

 After drinking a few gulps of water, he snuck from one bush to another, once again, but this time he tripped over a tree root: a fairly large one, no less.

This made a deafening sound in the eerie silence. Then he heard it: footsteps.

 He crawled over to his tomahawk, which had gone flying from his grasp, and gripped the handle again, so tight his knuckles went white.

'Who's there?' he cried.

 Someone, whom he didn't recognise, walked out from behind a tree, holding an AR-15, magazine inserted.

Ashton collapsed once again and fell into a tree, his back hitting the trunk. Bits of bark fell off around him.

'I won't hurt you,' said the mysterious man.

 'O-Okay ...' Ashton felt at ease, but only slightly. He stood again, and walked over to the man. 'My name's Ash.'

'Cool. My name's Vlad.' Vlad stopped short, then looked down at the tomahawk in Ashton's hand. 'Oh, you got a blade, huh?'

Ashton looked sheepish at this, and rubbed the back of his head. 'Uh-huh.'

'You wouldn't hurt me with it, right?'

'N-no, of course not, mate.'

Vlad guffawed. 'Just kidding!' Once his laughter faded, he smirked at Ashton.

 'Wh-what?' Ashton was seriously concerned. He could tell that this Vlad guy was unpredictable and possibly chaotic.

Vlad stepped back, then raised his AR-15 at Ashton. 'Drop the fuckin tomahawk, Ash.'

Ashton knew his years of watching those illegal Hollywood films had finally come to fruition. It was destiny. He hurled the tomahawk at Vlad and Vlad ducked, only the top of his head being grazed. It would leave a nasty scar, and hair wouldn't grow there again, but it wasn't too bad.

'You fucker!' Vlad screamed, his voice echoing. He put his finger on the fresh wound, then looked at it, and it was covered in a bright red liquid. Blood.

 He put his finger on the trigger, aimed at Ashton, and squeezed it multiple times. Ashton turned to run but multiple holes appeared through his body and clothes, and his whole body shook violently. He then collapsed in a fetal position. He was dead.

 Vlad was livid. He dropped his AR-15 in the sling and it hung by his side. He checked his watch: 8:59 A.M. Just in time for the Quarterly Announcement.

As it flicked over to 9AM, it vibrated softly and a bubble with text appeared on the LCD display. It displayed the names of those who died from when the game began until the current time. JACK B., JEMMA L., and ASHTON H. were the names that appeared. All of which were killed by Vlad Brennan.

As Vlad searched Ashton's backpack, he wondered to himself:

Will I set a high score?