The Way It Is

let the game begin! - part 1

So I would have to say, right up there next to people watching me go to the bathroom, being naked in public, or crying in public, my current situation is the most humiliating experience I have ever had the pleasure of enduring.

After exiting my ship, the bloody bounty hunters, with no warning, I might add, shot me with a tranq. Then threw me in a stasis pod until we got to their destination.

They told me once I woke that they hadn't wanted me going all "psycho Krog" on them, so they decided to keep me knocked out. Also, I didn't need food rations that way, which they stole from my ship

As I had suspected, their little transport pod had taken us to their ship. A giant merc ship made up to look like a harmless freighter ship.

Wherever this was, I don't know. All I know is I am not on their ship anymore.

I made a point to check out their ship, though, one day while I was being shuffled from my holding cell to the Med Bay for a check-up and some tests.

The docking bays could be seen through the view windows in the halls here in the lower decks of what I heard the merc's call "the station."

Earlier I heard the crew talking when they had thought I was still out of it. We came in on the Star Rover III.

And according to the mercs conversation, we are now in some sort of colossal space station located just outside the borders of Armada's controlled space.

Which means nothing because this could be anywhere in the vast thing that is space. However, it does mean the only rules here are those made by whoever has muscled their way to the top of the food chain here.

This could be bad or good. My guts are going with the bad.

That brings us to my current situation. I happen to be chained to a vertical gel pad. It is sucking my naked form into it. Currently, nothing but the tips of my breasts, nose, chin and mouth are left sticking out.

Did I mention I am spread eagle? Even though the weird gel is over my eyes, and I can't see myself, it is still disturbing.

Especially considering I am in the centre of a massive sphere-shaped coliseum that makes up the station's centre, which is currently full of people.

Yet, that still isn't the most embarrassing part. The embarrassing part is letting a crowd of some 2.5 million into the most inner part of my mind.

Fucking merc bastards!

The crowd in the coliseum, people on the station, and those who pay for the live broadcast in this local space area are waiting with great anticipation for this year's annual Battle of the Minds show.

Out here, beyond the borders of Armada, entertainment comes in many forms. Both moral and immoral. Not sure this is immoral. But perhaps if the lack of my consent to participate is considered, it could be. The other men and women had volunteered. Stupid.

Suddenly a breather is on my face, tubes jabbing up my nose, and a mouthpiece shoved between my lips. I feel it seal around my face, making my skin pull tight. Air fills my lungs as the gel-like substance finally swallows me whole.

My body is entirely immobile, and if I were the kind of person prone to claustrophobia, this would be very bad.

I can wiggle my fingers and toes just ever so slightly. However, that seems to be my maximum range of motion. The gel is thick but thankfully warm.

I was told the gel serves three purposes. One, it works like a stasis pod and keeps us alive for the duration of the contest. Two, it carries the nanites needed to connect our brain waves to the games system. Three, it will stop us from hurting ourselves.