Divergent Parody: Avirgent (6 page)

“No. Just out for the truth boss.”

“Well...” He crossed his arms. “Believe me or not, but let's just say that if there were another truth to the truth already there, well...you wouldn't be able to know said truth. If I told you, they'd kill me, and then you and everyone else here.”

 CHAPTER 4: “LIKE A LION AND A WOLF”

 T.B.4 was so courteous and kind, he carried Christine and I's bags.

“He's just doing it to save face,” whispered Christine as all of us went through a sliding door and into our dormitory. Whatever that word meant. I guess it meant room? Yeah, I believe so.

 “Now who's the one jaded Christine? You're ever so the negative nancy.”

She grunted. “More like the realistic one. You're so blinded by his looks, you're thinking of nothing but what's down there instead of up here.” She pointed up at her head with her fingers, and imitated shooting herself. “Might as well get your life over with now, because if you keep thinking like that, a piece of ass is all you'll ever be.”

I paused angrily, leering at her, as everyone filed in and Christine and I stood at the door as still as statues.

 She shook her head. “I didn't mean it literally. Just...damn it, watch out for yourself.”

 “Welcome to paradise!” shouted TB4, dropping our bags on the floor.

Our dormitory was filled with ten bunk beds on the left of the room. Although, we weren't going to need ten. There was no TV but there were five separate bathrooms on the right side of the room, with our beds on the left. Oh yeah, and there was no TV, there was no TV, there was-

 “Where the Hell is the TV?!” I shouted, making a fit like a little baby.

TB4 smiled. “Why, what the Hell would you want with that Idiot Box? Waste time watching America's Next top Hooker? Drag-Queen? Who Wants to be the Next Mob Boss? Oh, wait, wait, wait...I know what you love. America's Worst Dresser? You know, you can be quite the contender on the show. They pay up to $75,000 for fifth place, but something tells me you're a Gold standard eh? First place for worst dresser it is.”

He turned around and pointed at the bunks as Limp Ussy and his group laughed at me. Al and his sister looked down at me in pity, and Christine held her nose up high, nodding as if I somehow deserved it.

I nodded, shaking. “You know what? I'll be the better girl, suck up my pride, and swallow it.”

Christine nudged me. “Girl, you know what you just said?”

Limp Ussy pointed at me. “LOL! Something tells me that's not the first thing you sucked and swallowed! Right guys?!”

His crew laughed at us.

TB4 whistled. “Hey, hey. I was just teasing the girl here. Want me to make fun of your silly name Limp?”

Limp shook his head and quieted down. “No sir. Carry on.”

 “Good! Remember, no one bullies or teases anyone here but me. If I hear word that any of you, and I mean ANY of you have bullied or teased someone in a very inappropriate manner...then you shall face the penalty of death!” He raised his fist in the air and somehow lighting struck behind him. I don't know how it occurred but it did. I guess he was some lightning God and could control it. That was Hot.

He pointed at the bunkers again. “Okay children, these are your living quarters. One of my main rules is, no hanky panky.”

Hailey and her brother frowned, grunting their frustration.

 TB4 sighed. “But if you must...then go on ahead...”

The duo beamed at him, and TB4 held up an authoritative finger. “But
only
and I mean
only
in a private area away from the cameras.”

He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together. I imagined him rubbing his-oh, I'll stop. Christine would be sick to her stomach reading my horny little mind!

“As mentioned before, there will be no TV. TV rots your brain and just isn't productive at all. Instead, I suggest you amuse yourselves by playing cards, chess, or training in the super special awesome-”

 ---

“PERFORMANCE CENTER!” TB4's voice echoed throughout the Gym.

 It was empty save for dodge balls scattered on the floor, and  bleachers on each sides. There were huge stadium lights on top of the ceiling that made my skinny ass look even more thin and fragile. I could tell thanks to the bullet proof glass wall in my way. There was also this blackboard next to the entrance where we came in that had half-broken chalk and chalk-dust lining the...um...what is that thing under the chalkboard? A ledge? I don't know what it's called. Surely Christine would know.

 I nudged her on the shoulder once TB4 rolled the chalkboard over.

 “What's that thing under the board called that holds the chalk?”

Christine opened her eyes wide, in bewilderment. “Are you freaking serious?”

I shrugged. “Hey, I don't know.”

She pointed up at her head. “There's a lot of things missing in there, huh?”

I put my hands together, as if I were praying. “But you can help me fill it. Your head must be so chalk full of knowledge my sista!” I put my fist up, like one of those black panthers.

She giggled. “You're a real trip, you know that?”

“Quiet down, you two! Before I make you!” shouted TB4, now standing in place next to the chalk-board.

 “Okay, even though we're in futuristic Dystopian Chicago, we are still using technology from last generation...whatever time frame that was, because it's not clear what time period we are in. Anyway, we'll be using this old dusty chalkboard to tally the scores for each initiate. Now, there are only eight of you, and only five will make it to the final round where they will then compete to win three tickets to the semi-final round at the main Tricker Stadium where a threesome fight will be televised between three finalists and the winner will then go on to face a horde of evil robots equipped with razors and knives.

 If you're lucky enough to defeat the horde of robots, you will then compete against last year's initiate winner-Analogous Sexton-to vie for your chance at becoming the newest member of the Tricker faction! Yeah!!”

 He clapped his hands and we all looked at each other confused.

Christine raised a hand.

“Yes, you there handsome black woman. Er, Christine.”

Christine put her hands at her hips. “Excuse me, but aren't all of us supposed to be Trickers? It's only one? Like a tournament?”

TB4 snapped his fingers. “Exacta-mundo Ms. Christine! A tournament! It'll be just like that Hunger Games movie that came out not too long ago.”

Christine slouched. “Don't you mean, a century ago?”

He shrugged. “Hey, you know it better than me and everyone else apparently. I've been on this Earth longer than you, yet even I don't know what time we live in.”

 She sighed and crossed her arms. “This is so stupid.”

 I gulped. Oh God, first I jumped off of a roof, out of a plane onto a train, now I have to fight to everyone just to become a Tricker? Where's my ticket to get out of here while I can?

Al raised his hand.

“Yes Al?”

Al gulped harder than I did and cleared his throat. “Sir, what happens to the rest of us that lose?”

TB4 giggled. “Well that's quite simple lad, the rest of you will go into the faction with all the other undesirables. You know, the working class.”

“Noooooo!” I screamed. Limp Ussy and his crew made several swears. Even Christine was taken aback, but not by much.

“Screw that,” said Limp, putting his fists together. “I'm not going to work with some betas in a factory.” He looked at his group. “Consider our friendship over.”

Steven shrugged. “Like, whatever dude. We never had one.”

 Limp Ussy nodded. “True. Then I guess that means you're no longer my bitches. But all three of you, and the rest of these punks here will be the cannon fodder in my way to becoming the new initiate into Tricker. No one's gonna stop me!”

He ripped his shirt in two, and threw the pieces on the floor. TB4 looked on shocked at how much bigger Limp's muscles looked compared to his, but not by much.

“Damn it! I'm a beast! Nobody is going to take me down damnit! No one!!!!”

He picked up Max, and threw him toward TB4.

“Damn it!” TB4 leaped out of the way and Max shattered into and through the glass. The pieces fell like rain, and Max's blood splattered all over the floor, like out of some horror movie.

 “Yeah!!!” shouted Limp, flexing his muscles.

I was so scared, I didn't even notice the small yellow puddle under my feet. My knees collapsed underneath me and Christine looked down, worried.

“Damn girl, he broke bullet proof glass.”

“Y-y-yeah...” I said, my voice breaking.

 Al hugged Hailey tight. “Don't worry sister, you can lose to me so he doesn't kill you.”

TB4 cleared his throat, and picked himself back up from the floor. “Well then...I guess that makes seven of you. Um...” He looked at the rest of us. “And I suppose that also means six of you should start getting acquainted with the most powerful group in America once you get a working class job.”

“Who?” I asked.

TB4 gulped. “The I.R.S.”

 ---

“Like, did you see him? He's not human! He's not human!” said Al, gorging on a muffin and then downing some milk. Hailey nibbled at her carrot tenderly. We were sitting in the cafeteria room, just several tables away from Limp's old crew now consisting of two people. And Limp sat by himself, eating bowls of cut up ham, chicken legs, and beef.

Christine winced at Al. “Hey, watch yourself. You're gonna choke if you keep eating like that boy. Damn.”

I agreed. “Yeah, and what you're eating is disgusting. Enjoy your heart-attack.”

Al put down his milk carton and wiped away the little milk-mustache.

“Hey, my pops used to say it's not how many years you have in your life, but how much life you have in your years. I'll die forever young, and you two can revel in your wrinkly old age with dried up-”

 Christine put up a hand. “I get it Al. So, what were you saying about Limp?” Christine picked up the fork from her plate and started eating a spoonful of collard greens.

Al put his milk carton down and coughed, his hands shaking with nervousness and anticipation. “He's a freakin' monster that's what I was saying. His veins were like huge snakes. I bet if we popped  several of them, he could turn into a human fountain.”

Christine put down her fork and said, “
Hell
no, boy. What you're thinking about is against the rules. Not to mention, illegal.”

“Oh come on, what Limp did was illegal! TB4, that...that douche-prick!”

“Hey! Just because he's more fit than you, and has sexual relationships, doesn't mean he's a douche!”

“He's a douche! If his actions and words earlier doesn't convince you, consider this: I remember seeing this guy at one of my friend's clubs down by the freeway near the  GET-A-Face-LIFE-Book store is in Main Square Avenue. This guy, came into the club with his wife, and and left with five whores. Who does that? It's not like his wife was one of the working girls! She was dragged there! By him!”

 “How do you know that?”

“How? I saw it with my own two. Hell, Hailey saw it, she can vouch for me!”

Hailey nodded, still nibbling away at her carrot. “That's right. Yup, yup. I was giving brother a quickie with my mouth when it all-”

“Ewww! TMI!” whined Christine. I winced too.

 “Okay, okay, enough of you Hailey. Anyway, that story he said about his wife swinging the knife first. True, but skewered. Wanna know what really happened? Heh, of course you do. This is what happened. These guys...you know...these
guys
...” He nodded his head, expecting we'd get what he was saying.

Christine and I didn't respond. We looked confused.

Al rubbed his face with his hands and looked back and forth around the cafeteria, and then back to us.

“Okay, you know how they call Chicago one of the most corrupt places in America? Hell, the world? Criminal underbelly? Organized crime up the ass?”

 Christine nodded. “Yeah, so you're saying these
guys
are some Al Capone types?”

“Something like that. Anyway, my close friend told me this guy was beating on his wife first, and has the reports to prove it. So she gets these connected guys to help her out, but they can't be caught outside of their borough. There's no other guys she knows but them. So they give her this hunter's knife, and tells her to give him one deep stab into the head.

That, after she gets through the skull, it'll feel like cutting up a Chicken leg.”

Christine sucked her teeth. “Please...I mean, I believe you but-”

“Only because you hate TB4,” I shot at her.

 Christine leered at me. “Honey, if you can't see past the curtains, that's your problem, but I was telling you before this guy is bad news.” She looked back at Al. “So anyway, I believe you, but why didn't they give her a silencer? Or hire someone outside of their borough to help her out? Why did it need to be her? That's all I'm saying.”

 Al shrugged. “Hey, our society these days doesn't make any God-damn sense. Why the Hell would two degenerate scumbags make sense either? Besides, it was the wife that wanted to do the hit herself. She knew how to dump a lump thanks to watching this one show...a....I forgot what it was called, but it was about some teacher turning into a meth cook or something. Whatever. She knew how to get rid of stuff, but she wanted it to be gruesome. Like Friday the thirteenth shit. So they gave her the knife, she tried what she could, but that guy, that V back, 12 pack mother-sucker isn't even sleep!

 He's pretending to be! How convenient eh? So he takes the knife away and slaps her around just like he always slapped her around and called the cops. That ended their marriage for good and now he's here. Now, he has a reason for those reports to help him. Now she's the crazy one, and he's just a handsome guy defending himself. Courts saw no problem, and they let him free after she sued for assault. Self-defense. He killed her after...like he was planning to anyway. Joey Two-Tone had him on Wire-tap at the hotel. Gave it to his wife. That's why she just decided to up and kill him first before he did it.”