NIKE -Blue Lock-

Pack hunters

"Ladies and gentlemen, we greet you once again from our new internationally renowned show, the Blue Lock reality show."

Abigail looked up at the television as soon as she heard the translated voice of one of the two presenters, her blue eyes fixed on the LED screen.

Her landlord sat in the armchair with his legs spread wide and a thick glass filled with cognac in his right hand. His cold, mean eyes attentive just like those of the Russian blonde.

The woman between the two presenters (Abigail decided to refer to her as Селеста given her light blue hair) smiled seductively toward the cameras.

"Our audience is reaching simply astounding dimensions." she stated, probably looking at a screen with the program analyses.

Then she turned to her colleague with a sly, assertive look, leaning toward him almost to whisper in his ear.

"Could it be that they are waiting for someone in particular?" 

The man snickered, nodding at the woman's words and pressing something on the notebook placed in front of him. In real time, a close-up of a person who by now Abigail and her master knew all too well appeared behind them.

"Our Joker card is looking good today-"

Abigail held back a smile, sensing the anxiety and terror dilute from her body and a feeling of warmth and serenity coursing through her veins. Her ice-blue eyes scanned the fake boy's gold-bronze face with meticulous attention.

Nicole was smiling.
Nicole was talking.
Nicole was walking.

Nicole was still alive.

Abigail hadn't slept well those last few nights: her pale face, paler than usual, and the dark circles under her eyes only barely hidden by the concealer she was ordered to wear, were clear results of her insomnia.

Short sleep was not an unfamiliar concept to her. Several times she had lost hours of rest because of the carnal needs of the man, who sometimes woke her up at night just to be satisfied.

But it was different.

It was different from waking up sweating, with an exaggerated heartbeat, heavy and labored breathing, lungs burning and a twinge in the chest so painful that it felt like being pierced by a dagger.

It was different from opening her eyes when they were already full of tears, only to find herself in the darkness of the same room she dreamed of every night.

It was different from waking up with a jolt caused by the sound of a gunshot that was actually nothing more than the source of her now shattered psyche.

It was different from being forced, every time she surrendered to Morpheus' embrace, to see a bullet pierce the forehead of a girl for whom, despite not truly knowing her, she had learned to feel affection for.

And until that moment the Russian blonde, not knowing whether the young Italian girl had taken her own life when away from the eyes of others, had lived with an anguish and neurotic anxiety that seemed to devour her alive.

She had become so physically weak that even the old man, her master, had found her less sexually arousing than usual. Because of her unhealthy condition, another young woman of the staff was receiving his unwanted attentions, although Abigail remained the favored victim.

"Oh would you look at that. She hasn't hanged herself somewhere yet." the man indifferently said, taking another sip of cognac and leaving the liquid in his mouth for a few long seconds before swallowing it completely.

Abigail immediately wiped away the smile and lowered her head, not wanting her master to notice her relieved mood.

"I'll admit I was slightly worried about our celebrity, in the last few episodes he didn't seem so much in his element." the female host said, causing the other one to nod.