《Better Not By Halves》


 Prologue: The Year Before

    "If you injure your neighbour, better not do it by halves."


    - George Bernard Shaw inMaxims for Revolutionists.


    I saw his moment of death from the shot in the scope of the sniper rifle. My bullet pierced his neck with a splash of red. Before it could finish his life, a nearby Atom Inc scanner pulverised his cells and skin while simultaneously combining him back into the form he held only seconds earlier. He still held the knife high up in the air, but his regenerated shirt was now black with a massive red X on the back and front.


    He looked pissed. Ohh, he looked pissed. To die is one thing, but to die from six blocks away? I bet he thought it was cheap as hell. Especially since he was about to kill his own target.


    A too perfectly modulated to be a human female voice echoed in my earpiece,RIPieces you have killed ScrawnyElite. Your next target is Fraggled69.


    Kneeling and braced for kickback, I swung the barrel down just enough to focus it on the kid my target had been about to stab. Focusing on his surprised eyes I breathed out and gently touched the trigger. The force of the shot stung my shoulder. Only seconds later blood splattered around a tiny hole right between his eyes.


    Fraggled69 disappeared and was regenerated by a nearby ReLife Labs Monitor.


    RIPieces you have killed Fraggled69. Your next target is V4pidS1r.


    I had a moment to revel in the kill, but I needed to focus. I needed to calm the shit down.


    I still watched below and could see the stabbing victim stand up then jog over to the knife wielder. Both of them in the X-marked shirts. They walked up to one another, shook hands, and then embraced.


    Deep breaths, calm down, I thought to myself.


    Otherwise silent I huffed in delight. It''d been almost a month of being absolutely silent. As silent as I could be as I hunted and killed every one of my targets. I could talk when I was dead.


    Fraggled69 looked up toward my hiding place at the top of the car parkade and yelled, "Great shots! Good luck!" He was echoed by a clearly disappointed ScrawnyElite and then they trundled down the street laughing. No doubt walking toward a subway exit and their way out of downtown and the game.


    Theirs had been good deaths.


    I needed to move. No matter the excitement of getting that specific name, I needed to move so that whoever had my name would not get a good shot. I opened my rifle case and took apart the sniper rifle into its components and then slid my arms into the backpack straps. The small caliber P32 holstered at my hip was good to go. Loaded in case of whatever.


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    Keeping low and nervously glancing back and forth constantly toward stairwell exits I quickly shuffled down the car ramps to the ground floor.


    I had Interrogatorz. I only had to last until he had killed all his targets and when he came looking for me, I would be ready.


    Staying alive would not be easy. Last year I went down mostly because I had not stashed food for myself throughout downtown. I was so hungry at the end that I was willing to shoot myself just to end it. Luckily top 100 was high enough to get some reward money so I could purchase a better arsenal this year. My dad had been angry with what I did with the prize money since it could have bought my mother one Rebirth cleansed of some of the cancer, but this year if I won then mom would be able to remove it all. And I had to win this year or next since I was aging out and the freebie ReBirths would stop as soon as I turned 19.


    At the ground floor, I carefully stepped over the trip wire I had engaged across the width of the ramp. Regrettably I would have to leave it and its C4 shrapnel payload. Maybe it would take out a target and that would help another player, but save me another kill later on.


    The gun shots from the kills would send the others in my direction and I needed to be gone. A cement barrier that blocked actual cars from driving up the parkade on the ground floor was low enough to launch over. I chose the street opposite the death scene and with a quick scan I sprinted across the road to the safe darkness of the alley.


    Low to the ground, I skirted around the husk of a personnel carrier. As I step up onto the curb, I tripped. I didn''t see or hear the click of the bomb detonating or sensed the explosive concussion. I only felt the absolutely agonising moment of pain as my body exploded into pieces by shrapnel.


    When you ReBirth, there''s a soft, gentle caress of feeling as everything comes back. All your wounds, the pain, the everything bad is gone. You are perfect, unsullied flesh just for that moment. The best version of yourself. Then the memories hit and you remember. You remember the agony, you remember the time you peed your pants as an eight year old, you remember the feeling of absolute humiliation that your own shrapnel bomb was used against you and you didn''t even notice the tripline.


    I stood next to a Fraser Products ReBirther and then looked down at the giant red X across my shirt and street camo vest.


    You have been killed byInterrogatorz. Your final ranking is 47.


    The anger from the death was nothing to the anger from hearing that specific hunter''s name.


    I looked around, trying to spot where he was. That asswipe. That absolute piece of flying --


    I saw a flash of bright neon orange and my eyes went up to it. A dark-haired boy -- no, almost a man -- stood in plain sight on the roof of a small blown-out convenience store. His black tshirt was tight across a lithe, swimmer''s chest. The leather bandolier he wore held more grenades than I would feel safe carrying on my person. Tall and thin, he carried himself with the grace of a ballet dancer and the deadliness of an assassin.


    He waved the orange fabric and stopped once he saw that I saw him. Like a bullfighter waving down his bull.


    "Oh, in this scenario, I''m the bull?" I said out loud, aware that the cameras would pick up my croaky voice. It''d been the first thing I''d even said for a month.


    He smiled at me a slow, shit-eating grin that popped out those two dimples in his cheeks. Even from this distance I could see him wink.


    He then bowed in condescension and turned to run off. His laughter sent angry zings down my spine.


    "Fuck you, Luke!" I yelled at him and gave him the finger.


    Next year, Interrogatorz was going down.

 Chapter 1: Adapt

    "The reasonable man adapts himself to the world: the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."


    -- George Bernard Shaw.


    In English class, there is only you and the clock. The clock ticks slower and slower until you have to be sure it''s a trick. It''s a trap and your freedom is when the little hand hits the three and the big hand hits the twelve and you haven''t got anyone''s attention.


    My top 50 performance last year meant that this particular analog clock was attached to the wall of a private school. A private school that found analog clocks and actual wood furniture quaint. One that had no interest in my academic future until my exploding body splurped all over the coliseum and I made the Happy Fifty.


    "Hey Splatter." A whispery voice came from behind me. I took a deep breath and thought about trying to ignore her, but I knew that it was pointless. If I ignored her, Kaydence would get louder, probably pinch my neck or pull my ponytail. Then her minions would make things worse. I was just getting over their last attempt at social homicide. I couldn''t even look Irvin in the eye and he had been at least a neutral lab partner for most of the year.


    "Are you ignoring me Splatter?"


    "No," I said quietly but didn''t bother turning around.


    "Good. So. Did you remember what today is?"


    I wanted to sarcastically shout at her that of course I remembered what the day was. Sign Up Day. I had hoped to quietly sneak out of class at the bell and find a corner where I could fill out the form by myself, but I had a feeling that Kaydence wanted to do something to make my life a living hell and possibly interrupt my submission. We had an hour to fill everything out, submit the questionnaire, and get our number. I needed that hour.


    Despite the private school, I had no money for lawyers and a public relations firm to help draft my submission. The past three years I''d gotten in mostly based on my rankings and the sob story of my mother''s cancer. This year, my mother''s cancer was cured by a ReBirth paid for with all my Top 50 winnings. My dad, well, my dad was a liability so I didn''t want to even put him on the application. I also wasn''t good at English or Media classes. Poors don''t have the best tech to create content.


    I''d accepted the scholarship to the private school funded by the same machine that ReBirthed me because my mom said she wouldn''t let me pay for her cancer treatment unless I did it. As the summer break ended and the school year arrived I had even convinced myself it was going to be an adventure. Excitement and hope had died in the first week of school after I learned that being a token scholarship kid who exploded on screen was just a great start to a year of torment.


    I tried bargaining with my mom to let me go back to my shitty-assed public school but she refused to sign the paperwork. Even though I knew I would be forced to see Luke, my old school would have been better than this hell hole. Frasier Products Academy had all the semblance of money with the corporate bullshit of something run by one of the ReBirther corps. Still, they trotted me out to all kinds of things this year as their token scholarship kid.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Kaydence kicked the foot of my chair. She hissed, "Are you ignoring me again Splatter?"


    "No. I''m listening."


    "I know you think you''re hot shit. Well, you''re not. If I hear that you''ve signed up for Assassin I''ll make sure to add a bounty on you so that everyone will want you dead."


    I wanted to tell her to go the fuck ahead and do that, but I didn''t need her getting it into her head to delay me from running from the classroom. After filling out the form today, I still had a few more months left of private school bullying before I finished out the year. If she assumed I wasn''t interested in filling out the form, then maybe they would all leave me alone. The less she assumed I would then the better.


    I didn''t say anything and so she added, "You''re going to promise me that you aren''t signing up." She clicked a button and I heard the soft whirr of a tech device start up. She gripped my shoulder with something metallic under her hand and I felt the prick of a sensor as it ripped through fabric and skin. "Know what this is? I can tell if you''re lying."


    No, she actually couldn''t tell if I was lying. Lie detector tech was bullshit at best, but if she even felt my pulse speed up from nervousness, I wasn''t going to leave the hallway with all my parts intact. She''d beat me to a pulp and merrily allow the rest of my classmates to stream it.


    At the site where the sensor entered my neck, coolness trickled as biochemical nanodes spread out.


    I took a breath through my nostrils, willing my body to be calm. I tried to speak evenly. "Why would I sign up? I don''t need the money since my mom''s cancer is cured." That was truthful. I had no obvious reason to sign up this year. Rich kids in this school only seemed to understand obvious reasons.


    "Then promise me you won''t enter this year."


    "Absolutely. I promise." I added silently in my own thoughts to the end of the sentence, "that I''m lying to you about this you stupid bitch."


    Her hand left my neck. The pinprick of whatever applicator tugged out, pulling at my skin. When it was gone, the spot on my neck throbbed a bit, but I didn''t want to touch it despite the strong urge to do so. I wouldn''t give her the satisfaction to see that it actually stung.


    Reporting her for using semi-illegal technology would be pointless. I highly doubted that the nanodes would be permanent and my immune system would do its own number on them so within a few hours I''ll be sick with some kind of fever or flu. I''d have to go to the school nurse right away for a blood workup in order to even get evidence and I had plans.


    Other students began to pack their things, letting me know that it was close to the end of the day. I didn''t dare. I just studied my tablet extra hard as if I could glean more understanding out of the short story assignment that we''d been given. Finally the clock chimed for three o''clock. Students rushed out of the room. Submissions started at 3:30.


    I did not deviate from my usual routine: I walked at a typical pace, put things away in my locker and hefted my bag over my shoulder, walked the long overly manicured pathway from the front entrance of my school to the gates at the street. I exited at the door by the guard tower. Nobody followed, not even a drone. I could hear the expensive vehicles swoosh past up in the sky above, but none of them swooped lower to harass me. They were probably all submitting their Assassin forms from the comfort of their luxury craft while using third party writers to beef them up.


    I walked to the bus stop where there were a few gardeners and some of the maintenance workers waiting to catch the ground-level core city bus. I''d be on it for an hour to get to the hub where I''d take my train home. One came almost right away. I pushed my way to the back and found a seat at the far corner so I could sit. I only had about fourty-five minutes left.


    Typing from my archaic tablet in a cramped seat at the back of a bus, I filled out the Assassin form and submitted it with only seconds to spare.


    I also opened a new text file and typed in my list:


    Luke


    Kaydence