The time has come, I’ve officially begun the third and final installment of “To the Victor goes the spoils”. This will be Patreon exclusive (you won’t see this anywhere else). I can’t guarantee when you’ll see it or how long it will be but the work has begun. Sizes will be ridiculous, though bare with me at the start, I promise they’ll get absolutely massive.
Just a taste of how it all begins.
——————————————————————————
The Capital fanfare was almost deafening, in every district citizens were glued to their screens. This announcement was so special that shops and businesses were closed for the day, a once a century national holiday had been ordered, they even gave the labor districts the day off. “All citizens of PanAm deserve to enjoy this day!” The declaration went.
In victor’s village everyone was in their homes, their usual activities paused while they watched. Some were passive and uncaring, some were nervous, some were confident, some didn’t know what to think. In the large open living room of his home Allen sat, his wife and fellow victor, Vanessa at his side, leaning against him. Around them their slaves, everyone watched and listened intently.
On the holographic screen the presidents seal was displayed, above it the PanAm flag was displayed, six flags hung on each side of the seal, one representing each of the labor districts that made up PanAm. Murmuring could be heard in the background, people of the capital in attendance. Suddenly everything went silent. A shapely bald headed woman walked into view. She was dressed in a form fitting suit, her ample features clear even under all that fabric. In her gloved hands she carried a small wooden box, the camera angle changed to show the top of the box bearing the PanAm seal in gold.
As the President approached her place a wooden podium rose to meet her. She placed the box on the podium and opened it. Hundreds of small white envelopes filled the box, some clearly already opened from previous special games. She removed the next unopened envelope in order, the number 100 written in gold glistened in the days light. The camera angle changed to a front view of the President as she opened the envelope and pulled out the card inside.
“Citizens of Pan Am.” Her voice boomed from hidden microphones. “On this, the first Centuri, the first one hundredth anniversary of our Enhancement Games, the tributes shall be reaped from each districts pool of victors!”
In the capital it was bedlam. In the districts people breathed a collective sigh of relief, in Victors village it was silent. In the house all eyes moved to Allen and Vanessa.
“Shit.” They said in unison.