Scene 27

Malcom came to slowly, struggling his way back into consciousness through a leaden blanket that weighed down on his limbs and eyelids. Before he could move freely, he was able to blink and raise his head, and when he glanced around he noted that his location looked a lot like an empty Tournament spectator lounge – spacious, high-ceilinged, filled with plush chairs and couches and a few bars, enormous video monitors hung at every possible angle. What was he doing here? And why did his shoulder ache like he'd just been given a shot? He groaned and squirmed around, managing to get one arm under his body and raise himself up enough to see more.

As Malcom looked around more closely, he realized that he recognized the place – it was the lounge for the arena Phobos Moon. How had he gotten here? He remembered leaving that café Anna had told him to go to, walking along outside, and then… somebody had grabbed him? So, he had been kidnapped. Anna must have betrayed him. The bitch! He should have known.

¨How do you feel?¨

Malcom started, looking awkwardly around him until he located the source of the voice to his left. Seated in a large black chair a few paces away was a thin man, his face illuminated by the pale glow of the console he had in his lap. He wore an elaborate headset with ear buds, a microphone, and several extra wires that connected to a metallic-looking band wrapped around his forehead. Because of the oddity of his appearance, it took Malcom a few seconds to recognize the man as Dr. Kilgard. What was he doing here? Malcom closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, willing the world to make sense. When he opened them again, Kilgard was still there. He'd removed the apparatus, whatever it was, and was examining Malcom with interest in his piercing gaze. ¨Better?¨

¨What… what are you doing here? What am I doing here? Damn you, Kilgard, what's going on?¨

¨Relax, Malcom. You were apparently surprised and gassed by some hoodlums in a dangerous part of New York. I guess they weren't pleased with the results of the match today?¨ He gave Malcom a sympathetic smile. ¨Anyways, by luck they were spotted by the police forces and dropped you. The police called me, and I picked you up.¨

Malcom was recovering his bearings enough to think about the situation. ¨Why in God's name wouldn't the police call my family, Kilgard? And that doesn't explain what we're doing at Phobos, for chrissakes.¨

¨Ah, well, you see I notified the police beforehand that if anything should happen to you, they were to tell me first. As for what we're doing here… I'm working on a Tournament-related test, and well, you and I need to talk.¨

¨You're damn right we do. What…¨

¨Wait, Malcom, let me explain,¨ Kilgard hurriedly pre-empted him. ¨First of all, you were right about the treatment. There was a defect caused by a new component that we had been testing to increase mental acumen. It worked stunningly in matches, but after awhile we began to realize it had several serious side effects, such as the ones that you described. We even had a gladiator with a psychotic episode. Not pretty eh? But that's why I notified the police to keep an eye out for you.¨

¨Kilgard, why didn't you tell me?¨ Malcom fumed. ¨And what about…¨

¨Look,¨ Kilgard interrupted again, ¨you're right about that too, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry you weren't notified. Mental performance enhancers are looked at pretty warily by our investors, and we didn't have the funding to proceed officially with that testing. So I selected a few subjects to test the product on and accumulate a bit of positive data before making my case to our sponsors.¨

¨Why DIDN'T you notify me? Why all the secrecy?¨

¨Corporate higher-ups might have canceled the project. And also, you gladiators might have refused to test it out. It was a risk I couldn't afford to take.¨

¨But it was a risk I could afford to take, right, doctor?¨ Malcom's stare burned into Kilgard with an accusing intensity. ¨You were right about something, too. If I'd known about this shit, I would've refused to participate.¨

¨Yes, well, nobody knew these kinds of side-effects were going to occur, did we?¨ Kilgard replied calmly, soothingly. ¨Because of your description of the problems you were having and especially what happened today I was able to isolate the flaw, and the next formula should function optimally – all the benefits, none of the drawbacks.¨

¨The next formula?¨ Malcom laughed incredulously. ¨Forget it Doc. I'm done with this. You know what pisses me off the most about the whole thing? That I need your cursed formula. Something went wrong in that match and those mental enhancers stopped working, if that's even possible. Without them, I didn't have what it took to keep up with Gorn and his team in the TDM arena. That's the truth. I didn't get to be where I am in the Tournament by lying to myself. I'd become dependant on your chemicals! Well that's all over. I'm better than Gorn, and I'm going to prove it by beating him without anybody's help, especially yours.¨ Kilgard opened his mouth to say something, but Malcom cut him off by sharply raising his hand. He was on a roll now. ¨Whatever it is, Kilgard, you can stow it. I don't like the way you do things. You came to my house without telling me. My house! My daughter said you gave me some kind of treatment there, and then told her and my wife to keep quiet about it. I don't know how you managed to get them to do it, but you went way too far when you involved my family in your schemes. The only thing left that you can do for me is get me a portal out of here.¨

Kilgard didn't respond for quite some time. He kept staring at Malcom, with what looked like a strange mixture of curiosity and calculation, such as a medical doctor examines his subject. Finally he spoke, that thin shadow of a smile playing around his lips again. ¨So that's the way you feel, is it?¨

¨You're damn right it is.¨

He sighed, suddenly looking tired and irritated. ¨That's too bad, Malcom. You had amazing potential, you know. But I guess you couldn't accept what I'm doing, just like the others. You're too attached to your own importance, can't see the role you're playing in something far grander.¨

Malcom snorted. ¨Don't flatter yourself, Kilgard. And you mean the role I was playing. Like I said, I'm done with you and FenTech.¨

Kilgard shook his head, his smile suddenly looking sinister in the glow of his console. ¨No, Malcom, this isn't over. Regrettably, I can't risk letting you run off and tell the media about my work. It hurts me to do this because of what you could have been, but I have to accept my own failures, and I shouldn't blame myself for yours. It's just a shame it had to come to this.¨

¨Doctor…¨ Malcom said, a creeping sense of fear and unease stealing over him, ¨what are you talking about?¨

¨With all your brains, Malcom, you still haven't figured it out?¨ Kilgard asked, his voice loaded with sickeningly insincere sympathy. ¨I told you once before and you didn't listen. Oh, but this time you will. It is time you learned something important.¨ He paused, carefully enunciating the words that followed. ¨You are mine.¨

Malcom gasped in surprise as he felt his consciousness overwhelmed by a wave of force. It was an odd feeling, like falling asleep without closing his eyes. Strangely, he noted that his body, rather than collapsing, seemed to straighten up and move, almost as though something else was commanding it. He remembered the sensation of watching his body from third person that he'd experienced in the match on Tempest, and now realized that it had only been a mere shadow of what he was feeling now. He watched with mute horror, unable to do or say anything as he saluted Kilgard.

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Kilgard's subtle disappointed frown quickly disappeared, melting back into his usual expression of cool scientific detachment as he considered the ex-Gladiator that stood at rigid attention before him. Malcom really had been too good to become a Corrupt. He'd never perform as well under full control as before, when he was doing the majority of the work and only being influenced in more subtle ways. But sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

Rather than speaking directly to the Gladiator, Kilgard picked up the headgear lying next to his console, adjusting the band to its correct position and tapping through some options on his keyboard for the program he was running. Then he spoke into the microphone, glancing up at Malcom. ¨Testing. Walk.¨ Malcom took a few steps forward, stopping when he arrived at a sofa. ¨Stop. Raise right hand.¨ Malcom's right hand shot up, as if a string was tied to it. ¨Lower. Speak test phrase.¨

The Corrupt warrior spoke, its voice Malcom's but with the measured quality of a synthesizer. ¨I'd – rather – be – dreaming - than - living,¨ it said. Kilgard nodded, satisfied, and delivered his orders. ¨Mission structure: find and capture Tournament gladiators Gorn, Anna, Ivana. Mission specifics: Take them alive using any method available and bring them to me. Four friendly units available. Defer to directives from unit codename Xan. Now enter Phobos arena.¨

The Corrupt warrior nodded curtly and walked across the lobby towards the exit portal. Kilgard watched on the monitors above his head as his warrior entered the Gladiator's lobby, continued purposefully across it, and entering a shimmering portal under a sign that said ¨Arena Entrance 1¨. Kilgard smiled again, despite himself. Now came the fun part. He supposed it wasn't too unscientific to enjoy this just a little.