Stage 12: The Way of the Game
Crow brought his arm towards the ground, the blade that had grown out of it slicing down and narrowly missing my elbow. I scrambled out of the way as the other scythe- like object swiped me. However, it hadn't come close enough to make contact with my skin, and instead tore through the fabric of my uniform, leaving part of my collarbone exposed. It was a clean cut, one that could have only been created by something with an edge as fine as a blade of grass. The blades still intrigued and terrified me, and led me to believe that perhaps special effects were being used after all. It didn't put my mind at ease in the slightest though, since there were no doubts in my mind of what Crow's intentions were. The only reason he'd signed me up for this game was so that he could win easily and reap the benefits of doing so, whilst I either died here by his hands or later through lack of Cast Points.
By the way things were going, the latter seemed more likely.
My lower back slammed against the ground, followed by my shoulder blades, my head and finally my arms and legs, which crashed to the floor like useless components on a machine. I did my best to use them to support me and stand up, but the best I could do was shuffle backwards as Crow's black shadow approached.
"Look, I'm not trying to kill you," he said, spreading his arms in an indifferent gesture. "If it were up to me, I'd knock you unconscious in the least painful way possible and get the hell out of here. But, well, the whole idea Is to put on a show."
Still recoiling from the ever- aproaching figure, I considered Crow's words. What was as 'putting on a show' a euphemism for? Torture? Was the whole idea of this Carnival Corpse to put a considerably weaker person in a cage and let them be torn apart by someone much more aggressive and experienced in the sport? No, this wasn't sport, nor was it a game. It was... Something else, far more macabre than anything I believed this prison could dish up.
Humiliation- they were humiliating me for the entertainment of the crowd. That was the right word.
Crow's footfalls stopped and he bent down, making sure to keep his blades pointing away from him, and I noticed how much he suddenly resembled the animal implied by his name. I was half- expecting the extentions on his arms to transform into massive black wings, but no such thing happened, and instead he muttered, "Look around you- do you really think this audience cares what happens?"
Around me the crowds were roaring, so much that it had become background noise by now. They cheered, booed, exclaimed, waved and screamed, each individual person's sounds blending with the next to create one untameable creature.
I was brought back by Crow's serious tone. "They want blood, and they don't really care how it's spilt. Trust me, I know- I've lost count of the number of games I've been forced to play." His eyes shifted to my hands. "I cut your handcuffs before so that you could move about, and now nothing's stopping you From fighting back. So... Give a good show, okay?"
His words seemed almost pleading, as if he was begging me to play along- however, whether I would be able to or not was another matter. Any skill at fighting that I possessed was diminutive, meaning all that I could do was avoid attacks, and even that was a clumsy action that relied mainly on chance. Any hope of me winning this was concealed behind impenetrable clouds- both Crow and I knew that. But then again, perhaps it wasn't a case of winning or losing- maybe it was all about the show.
I was so deep in thought that I barely noticed it when Crow raised one of his blades into the air, ready to slam it down onto me, but I slid out of the way a mere second before it hit the ground instead. My next movement was a mixture between a frenzied leap backwards and a scramble in the first direction I thought was safe. My back hit something solid, and for the first time in my whole stay at Deadman Wonderland, I felt the hints of a smile pull at my lips.
Because I had an idea.