Corn, Cows, and the Apocalypse

Hollywood

Since none of us had competed in the past tournaments, we didn't know about the changes that had taken place. The glitz and glamor that donned the entrance were astonishing. The once gladiator-style event with hot dogs and beer had turned into a red carpet movie premiere event with champagne and fancy clothes. Photographers and reporters dappled the area, clustering around familiar faces as the entered the arena.

As we approached the event center, I was starting to feel less overdressed and more underdressed. Add to that our tardiness because of the snow, and we decided to sneak in the doors with the least hullabaloo, so we didn't disrupt the festivities. Unfortunately, we didn't make it.

"Haden Summers!" a photographer yelled right before blinding us with the flash on his camera. A slew of flashes came from all around us and I was instantaneously being crushed between August and Devin.

"What the fuck is this?" I heard Haden say before the explosion of random questions left me deaf to anything but Devin's thumping heart.

As the stars in my vision faded, I could see we were surrounded by a mob of nosy reporters and paparazzi, but without such things as restraining orders and common decency to keep them at bay, we were helpless to do anything but humor them.

Haden was being smashed into Devin's chest right along with me, but I couldn't feel August anymore. I panicked, looking around for her. I tried to wrench away from Devin, but he gripped me harder and tapped my shoulder. I looked up and strained my neck to meet my ear to his mouth. "She went to register."

I nodded, feeling my panic subside, but my aversion to crowded areas was rising in its place. As if that wasn't enough, the loud gunshot not far from my head sent my heart into my throat.

The rampant attack of questions and pressing bodies stopped. The mob, now calm, took a collective step back. Haden brandished her gun high, not pointing it at anyone. Her hearty glare, however, she aimed at everyone.

"Now," she said, using her big voice, the deep throaty one that either instilled fear or arousal depending, on what words she paired it with. "Someone tell me what the fuck is going on here."

A throat cleared among the aghast reporters and Jimmy the Card stepped out. His red hair was a little more chic, and his leather jacket and jeans, though reminiscent of an 80s movie, did make him look a little less pubescent. He even donned tinted glasses, and if I wasn't mistaken, eyeliner.

"Haden," he said with a smile, showing off his broad teeth that his parents had probably tried and failed to repress with braces. "This is your first debut since your spectacular win three months ago." His voice could have sold cars, won elections, and narrated movies, but for now, he was Jimmy the Card, the voice of the Metro.

"These ladies and gentlemen were sent on behalf of fans here and the surrounding states," he continued to explain. "They just want to ask a few questions and take a few pictures. No reason to offer a demonstration." He winked at her. I was pretty sure that Jimmy could have talked Haden into giving him her gun if he tried hard enough.

Devin had already let go of her, and he was easing up on me. Haden looked around at everyone and slowly holstered her gun under her arm. "You mean this is all for me?"

"Well, they will report on the tournament as well, but certainly the enthusiasm is for you." Jimmy raised his hands to the reporters, single-handedly becoming the force keeping them at bay instead of the threat of Haden shooting them. "Why don't we head inside to your reserved seating, and I'm sure these fine people can ask their questions in a non-threatening way."

We exchanged looks for consensus before moving, but in the end Jimmy's forward progression was the only thing that propelled us into motion.