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Life for the Stellaron Hunters was not like how the IPC broadcasts would lead you to believe. The walls of the small yet cozy living room flashed in sequence to the ultrawide TV screen’s display. Four women, each with varying degrees of investment in the battle being waged before them.
The fighting had reached a fever pitch, the telltale savoury smells wafting in from the adjacent room signaled to the combatants, and audience alike, that their campaign needed a swift conclusion.
Barely a presence in the room, Blade’s shadowed form danced in the technicolour rhythm of gunfire and sword clashes. “Dinner’s ready.”
A digital explosion erupted from the screen and Silver Wolf craned her neck toward the screen, enough that she had to get on all fours to peer as close as she could, as if a greater degree of scrutiny would change the results of their clash. “Dude what the FUCK.” She exclaimed. “How?”
Firefly waved a deliberate motion in front of her neon shades and they vanished, her vision returned to the room around her. “What? Did I win?” She asked, a coy disbelief playing at the fringes of her tone. She looked either side of herself to see Stelle half aware of what was going on and dozing against the armrest, whilst to her other side Silver Wolf had coiled herself up in a bestial crouch, as if ready to pounce at the TV itself.
The adrenaline spike of good competition came to its peak, and finally released. Silver Wolf let out an undignified groan. She rolled her eyes and sat herself up on crossed legs. “Yeah dude. You won. Am I the only one seeing this shit?”
“Wolfie dear, I have no idea what I'm looking at.” Kafka’s voice was calm as ever, though it carried the undertones of amusement. Whether she was entertained by the game or Silver Wolf’s response to her loss was unclear. She dismissed her pair of goggles with a sharp snap of her fingers and smiled.
Firefly furrowed her brow and gestured at the victory screen with her controller in hand. “So… Does that mean I get to keep Stelle?” She asked. “She was what we were fighting over after all.”
“Huh…?” Stelle mumbled, roused at the mention of her name. She rubbed her blurry eyes and jolted awake at the sight of Firefly’s sudden intense gaze.
Silver Wolf scoffed. “No, you dork. It’s just a game.” She shrugged and rolled her shoulders. “I only added her as the bait to get you to play in the first place.”
“I think the winner gets to decide the terms of her victory, Wolfie.” Kafka smarted as she stood up and stretched.
Silver Wolf scowled. “Gross. Yeah ok, whatever. Have her then.”
“Dinner’s ready.” Blade repeated, making no additional effort to be heard.
“I’m gonna go do that.” Silver Wolf gestured a thumb back at Blade and leapt to her feet. She rounded the couch to Blade’s side and pulled up her phone. “What’s on the menu? Smells good.”
Blade began to explain the complexities of his latest dish as they left for the kitchen.
Firefly had closed the little distance between her and Stelle and stared through the dream-fogged pools of amber that reflected her image in the low light of the room. “Silver Wolf couldn’t rescue you from me and that means you have to do everything I say for the next twenty-four hours.” She spoke softly, though with audible restraint.
“H-Hang on.” Stelle spluttered to her defence. “When did I agree to this?” She looked around the room for aid but Kafka had followed the other two out shortly after they’d left.
“When does the prize ever get a say in the competition?”
“No, you’re right. Fair point I guess.” Stelle said with a resigned sigh.
Firefly tittered a not-altogether innocent laugh. “Perfect.”