“This is pitiful.”

Unamused, Mai watched on one of the hundreds of screens Lee Joon fight with stalker fan Brooke Marshall and pretty boy Byun Baekhyun. Already she had come swinging in to save him, and now she might have to do it a second time. Her 3D maneuver gear that allowed easy travel in the arena swung on her hips, as she swaggered over to a large control panel. She began to flip switches, punch buttons, and twirl toggles in a complicated pattern, chewing on her lip to keep focused. The disappointing scene on the monitor continued as Mai rolled her eyes and spat a few choice curse words under her breath. They say that kids will be kids, but sheltered adults will be kids as well. Refusing to defend himself because of his extreme morality, Brooke almost fatally wounded Joon. Meanwhile, Baekhyun had successfully scampered off with some of Brooke’s unwatched belongings. The control centre was too far away for Mai to personally break up this nuisance in time, so this would have to do. With a final humph, Mai slid down a lever to complete the sequence, watching on the screen as the street split in half. The explosion separated Joon and Brooke, the jagged edge of the chasm too large to climb over. Not to mention, the force of the detonation sent their bodies skidding far apart along with the pavement debris. The moderator assigned to screens 12G to 20 G gawked, as Mai strode away with her ponytail flicking down her back like an angry horse.

“We aren’t allowed to change the environment until day 7,”  the moderator challenged.

With an exasperated voice, Mai justified,

“Battle Royale isn’t about fair play. It’s a T.V. spectacle which exists to make money and shove reality up people’s asses. Take it up with your supervisor if you have any concerns.”

Mai didn’t bother breaking step or slowing as she shut him down with a final statement,

“Wait; I am your supervisor.”

The moderators watched as Mai began to pace past the same row of screens, numbers A1 to A11. It was a last minute decision to have her host the games that apparently came from the broadcasting company. Supposedly it was suppose to be three CEOs from the entertainment companies originally. Most agreed that it was safer for Mai to host instead, since it was predicted the CEOs would favour their artists, but some were still skeptical. Her name, Mai Hasegawa, was almost all they knew about her. A week before the games were to start, she barged into the meeting room, slapped down a pile of official papers,  and took over within ten minutes. She was mysterious, but most of all volatile. To say that everyone was walking on eggshells while on duty was an understatement. One of the three people who had the nerve to directly address Mai, Eric Nam, carried over an electronic tablet from where he had been sitting. Initially, he had been intimidated just the same as every other employee and volunteer, but she had seem to take a liking to him. Well, that was relative to Mai’s limited ranged of human emotion, where liking meant not having an absolute annoyance for someone. As the popstar consultant to help develop and monitor Battle Royale, Eric had to be around the control centre just as much as her. However, he would always arrive at 10:00 am and leave by 4:00 pm, while the passive host never seemed to take a moment for herself ever and seemed to stare at the monitors from dawn to dusk.

“We’re ready for deployment whenever you are,” informed Eric, passing of the tablet to Mai.

Faintly, he saw her lips curl up into a lopsided smirk as she accepted the tablet with her left hand. She scanned the overview he had created for her, mouthing the words as she read. Even though he was on the safe list, Eric harboured a small fear of disappointing Mai. Who knows what she could do to him if he failed her, because maybe he’d be sent into the arena. He didn’t understand why him; why he wouldn’t get snarled at like the other film interns or consultants. Was there some connection that he was missing? Or did she genuinely find his personality interesting? With a soft tone, Mai replied with a curt nod,

“Thank you Eric.”

Anticipation flooded the room as Mai clicked on her headset which she had connected wireless to the tablet. She cleared with sharp cough, signalling everyone’s attention. Very few employees knew what Eric and her had concocted. It was one of her crazy ideas, to make her larger and even crazier one work out in the end. Intently, the room listened as Mai made an unscheduled announcement to the remaining players,

“Listen up. For those who are still alive, I have a small incentive. There is something that all of you desperately need and want, so each of you will be rewarded with specific package. To get them, however, will require searching. From 8:00 pm to midnight, all the danger zones will be disabled for this purpose. I advise that you only take what is yours. Good night kids. “

A small murmur crept through the desks and tables full of people as they discussed the news. They had blind faith in Mai and this plan, because everything else had turned out, but it motive that chewed at their curiosity. Why was she being so generous? They only were given a certain amount of time to air the show, and these gifts would only extend it. Again; blind faith, Her motives were unclear, but they also were always clever. A brave intern who brought coffee to the midnight crew spoke up, asking in an uneven volume,

“So... how do they know what gift is meant for them?”

Eric saw this as his cue to retrieve the rack of gifts. Quickly he rolled out the collection of nondescript, unlabeled boxes. Mai again thanked him before beginning her demonstration. The room fell into silence as Mai got up and inspected the line up of silver boxes. All eyes followed as she dragged her fingertips down the row, lingering on the next inanimate victim. Finally, she settled on one of the smallest which was almost a perfect cube, pressing a small button on the bottom. Slowly she sat it down on the edge of a desk, explaining,

“Medicated skin cream. It is meant for Taemin of SHINee who has some nasty acid burns.”

A loud scream began to emit from the gift. Some even covered their ears when the realistic cry began,

“Hyung; help me! Please! I’m right here, on the second floor. I-I can’t move.”

The box continued to blare the pleas of Kai before switching to the screams of Taemin’s mother. It easily identified what was for who, and provided some psychological warfare as a bonus. Mai had been saving this for just the right time, which was now. Once the blood thirsty and physically weak were gone, this would target the overly emotional and moral ers. She had asked Eric to do the audio editing, which she knew he was a genius at. The method of how she collected these cries for help and pleas for mercy, however,  was undisclosed to him.

“Brilliant. There is no doubt why you’re the fearless leader,” complimented one of the engineers.

Mai stifled a malicious laugh as she nodded curtly to the uniformed woman before heading for the door. Unlike the pompous and more than pretentious pricks that came before her, with blades and bullets strapped into her belt, Mai led the line of soldiers. They had less than an hour to plant the gifts for the survivors, and there were very exact locations for some of them. While gifts tended to be conventional supplies, some gifts gave support in a way that only the proper recipient would understand. These things would be a tide turner, in both cases of being in the right or wrong hands. Psychological hits were just as fatal as physical ones. Mai knew this better than anyone else.

“You didn’t have to stay late,” said Mai, loading a new clip into her custom 0.50 caliber Desert Eagle,

Eric shrugged as he continued to set the audio timers on the silver boxes,

“This is a joint effort, so I’m just doing my half of the work. Plus; hanging out with you is interesting”

With a piercing glare, Mai replied,

“If I may be frank, which I will be, I don’t make a good friend or acquaintance.”

With an audible sigh, Eric defended himself,

“I’m just saying that since I have to be here, may as well not be miserable about it.”

Humoured by his reasoning, Mai crossed her arms with a large smirk. Though they only had an age difference of three years, Mai being the older one, she felt that it was closer to ten. In her short life, she had experiences that in Eric’s dizziest daydreams couldn’t imagine. Pretentious as it may sound, it was the truth. At a young age, Mai had joined the dirty world of the adults, no longer a clean and civil child like many 20 something year olds. Before turning to leave, Mai cocked her pistol as she replied,

“Well, perhaps you should be a little more miserable about the 41 or more deaths that will occur this month.”

There were only suppose to be 41 deaths, since there were 42 players with one survivor. Puzzled with the simple mathematical mistake, Eric repeated,

“ ‘Or more’ deaths?”

Mai nodded as the final soldier passed by,

“Yes; you could be number 42.”