Meriel

Deceptive smile

A smile can be a cheerful expression, one of love and trust, the expression of somebody willing to do whatever they can to make you smile along with them.
It can also be the most terrifying sight, especially when plastered onto the wrong face, at the wrong time, with the wrong motives.

That fit Amos all too well.

Amos.

How I hate that name.

Amos was a stranger addition to the competition lineup. Standing about two feet tall with a huge head and tiny body, with orbs for hands that floated around his minuscule torso, three disconnected spherical fingers per hand, humongous eyes, a strange stone in his chest, and with a purple color, he was the definition of "alien". He didn't even speak. He sort of... hummed and hinted at what he was thinking with vague sounds and exclamations. The big eyes, his color, his tiny smile... It was almost as though this creep had been perfectly designed to be... cute. As though that was part of his whole species facade. To be cute. What harm could come from a little guy like Amos?

My grandmother knew. From the moment Amos crash landed on Meriel, she was wary. As if reckless flying wasn't enough to signal danger, perhaps the ominous neon-green glow of Amos's eyes and body as he lifted a billboard high above his head was. Amos's race was telekinetic. They used their minds to not only move objects around, but to use them as weapons. Anything not made of an organic and living material was a weapon at Amos's disposal.

It was quickly discovered that despite being the smallest of all the competitors, Amos could hold his own against someone more than three times his size. Facing up against the largest of the competitors in the first round, he managed to make it out alive. Amazing. Shocking. Horrifying. He had managed to send somebody clear off the edge of the city, plummeting to their demise... all while holding a grin on his face. No, not a grin. A smile. A wicked, twisted, and evil smile. It was clear he saw joy in pain, and it was clear that he was out to cause as much damage as possible.

An elevated trolley was rammed into another competitor, hospitalizing them. An alien was found in the underground, cooked alive in an oven and cut open all for the sake of a single token. Statues destroyed, hover-speeders stolen, an unsuspecting worker that wouldn't be returning home. Amos was more fitting of being called a monster than an alien. 

The final round was not looking well for Meriel. In one corner, a chaotic and somewhat crazed traveler from Pandora's box, whose giant and toothy smile rarely ever faded from his face. He spewed jokes fast and attacked even faster. A force to be reckoned with, his large stature and physical strength had gotten him out of many tight spots.
In the other corner, Amos. Grinning his wide sinister grin. Crafting a way to even the playing field as much as possible to secure his twisted goals.

Smiles. I never thought I'd see two totally different smiles with such similar intentions.

They both were planning each other's death right behind their convoluted expressions.