The Bad Guys Save the World

Chapter 17

| "Make me." |

Dyntos figured that he could've heard the gunshots from the moon.

The sound strafed the air, louder and crueler than he would've expected, and it actually made him flinch. It was quickly overcome by an explosive wave of cheering, more riotous than thunder, shaking the very ground and causing the bus to rattle. The citizens of SmashVille were pleased, more pleased than Dyntos would've expected by a display so cruel and inhumane.

He looked through the greasy windshield of the bus, gazing at the empty one that was parked in front of this one. The one whose female prisoners had been lugged out, strapped in leading collars, and marched through the stadium tunnel, out into the field. Veran, Cia, countless others...he'd been dealing with them and their cat fights, their protests, their stunts for years.

The Warden was surprised with how hard it was to accept that they were now gone.

Despite the thunderous amount of applause and cheering that was coming from the inner stadium, and quieter, sadder noise drew Dyntos's attention: he glanced back to see Pandora leaning against Phosphora, a fresh dose of helpless tears running down her face, her sobs broken and helpless. Phosphora's face was pale, almost white, her violet eyes wide and unfocused — it was rare to see the spitfire so stunned, and he turned back, finding it hard to stare at her stupefied expression.

No doubt plenty of the other prisoners were still in a prolonged state of denial, like Phosphora was.

Dyntos gripped the steering wheel of the bus, trying to squash his fluctuating emotions. Sure, he might've felt a grudging affection for some of the criminals under his jurisdiction over the years — hard not to, when you were constantly breaking up fights, giving lectures, catching escapees, and generally acting like the nanny for every convict put behind bars.

But still...he couldn't think about that. Not now. Whether or not he'd grown to like some over the years didn't change the fact that they were criminals. Convicts, some of which had committed high offenses.

Dyntos paused, contemplating his own words. Some of which had committed high offenses... Some of them. Not all of them. Some of them had committed murder. Embezzlement. Arson and larceny. But for others, it had been B and Es. Theft. Assault, in Phosphora's case. Minor misdemeanors.

So sure, some of the convicts had convicted felonies, but did the others, who'd committed just misdemeanors, deserve to die with the felons?

Dyntos shook his head. It's out of your hands, now, he snapped to himself. Just do your job. And it was true. Even if he felt bad for the criminals, there wasn't much he could do about it now.

But as he glanced into the back of the bus again, Phosphora suddenly met his eyes, hers large and staring, like the expression of a frightened child.

One who didn't deserve to die...

A squawk from his radio jolted him; he quickly yanked it out of his belt and said, "Warden here. What's the word?"

"Keith here," said Keith, a Pokémon Ranger who was helping facilitate the villains into the stadium. "Get ready: we're coming for the next batch."

---

Phosphora fought when they came for her.

She'd been in a daze for most of the day: when the alarms had blared that morning. When COs had flooded the prison hallways, yanking inmates out of their cells, handcuffing them, handcuffing them to each other. When they'd been forced outside, thrust onto the buses. When they'd left the island, crossing the prison bridge and moving on the mainland. When they pulled into the Smash Stadium, the attending citizens throwing rotten food and bottles at the buses. When they'd parked, been forced to listen to the Peacekeeper's opening announcements, to the audience's raucous applause, to their sickening approval.