At the base / 18:00 SS (Since Start)
"What do you think they decide?" Dollaire whispered in Sterling's ear, both looking at the furious debate raging on top of the raised leaf. The Wrixian Elders seemed livid.
"I don't know," Sterling replied, equally concerned. Injuries and death were to be expected in a everything goes competition. He, however, hadn't expected his team to not only kill but also dispose of the bodies in ways that even he believed to be cruel.
"Why couldn't they kill Althea? Or those cold bitches from the north? Why did he have to kill two teams, both belonging to the host nation?" Sterling cursed for the umpteenth time since the representative took the stage.
The representative was another bastard he swore to deal with some other day. That guy didn't only declare Hex as the winner, he also rubbed the wounded pride of the Elders by describing each death in detail, especially gloating at the failures of Wrixian participants.
