DARK 1-1: Fuck The Rich

You're probably wondering, "What's this guy with the big gun doing? Who does he think he is?"

Taking the mic, dressed in his military clothes, leaving boot prints on your marble dancefloor.

I'm sorry to interrupt your party but it's necessary. Don't worry about my soldiers roaming around, they're just trying to set the scene. As you see, they have those helmets on their heads, they also prefer big guns. Makes them scary, but also useful: they record this for the world to see.

We'll establish some better, fixed angles shortly, we are just VERY eager to start.

Your performance will be evaluated by the world, so don't complain that it's me making you look bad. It's your responsibility how you present yourself, see where the camera is. It should be secondary to staying alive, but I'm not judging any strategy. I understand it's a difficult moment.

Look at you all. So much jewelry. Dresses that sparkle over personalities that don't. Expensive suits covering career criminals. All here, on Valentine's Day, ready to celebrate your love.

Well, let the world celebrate with you.

Before we begin, I'd like to thank you all for being so calm while we got our shit together. This has been planned a long time, but you know how it is: real life obstacles surprise you.

This is live, so there's room for delays, no room for failure.

I expected four deaths as we took over this cruise ship but you've managed to gain my benevolence by only raising two dumb questions. As a group, you've halved your mortality rate, so let's hear a round of applause. Come on, come on, you deserve it. Don't be shy, it's what gets you killed.

Let's first acknowledge that there's some of you who don't deserve to be here. I'll call out your names, and you'll join me on this stage--your former dancefloor--and answer a few questions. I promise you won't regret doing so, but trust me you'll definitely regret not doing so.

Let's see who's fraudulently declared themselves as a member of your crowd. The first name I have here on my list is Rey Jones. Come on, come on, I know it's hard to focus with that light in your face but please smile to the camera. Come on, walk over, don't make my guy convince you.

Rey is a personal live-in driver and was invited to this event by his employer. I'm guessing he's fucking one or both his bosses. Look at that face, he shouldn't be out there driving cars, he'll cause accidents when women ogle him! They're bad enough drivers as it is. He doesn't smile, but I assure you his dental work is above his paycheck.

Do you like cars, is it a passion thing, Rey?

He's not finding his words. It's fine, it's difficult to be first one to the slaughter. I got good news for you, Rey: you probably won't die tonight. All you need to do is not harm yourself by annoying me. You got some military background so I trust you know how to take orders. You listen, you do, you move on. You'll be my Adam.

Now I know I talked about his face, but Rey is a tall guy who loves the gym as much as his bosses hate it. Have you seen his bosses? It's not a pretty close-up. I understand why they need to be driven everywhere by a guy who could model suits. Is this your suit?

It is, ladies and gentlemen, and normal people.

Now I'm just gonna ask you once, and don't lie to me cause I get irrational when people complicate their lives and make me look bad on my own live stream.

Cause this is never going off the internet. It's a feed that spawns itself in hundreds of places if closed in one, we have people already working on the highlights reel. We want to make you stars, and you deserve a worldwide audience.

Stare into that camera and convince me you're telling the truth. So, Rey, are you fucking one of your bosses? Yes or no.

"No."

The first words ever spoken by a participant on my show. Short and clear.

So Rey's got a deep voice, looks good on camera, dresses well, knows he's outta his league. I like Rey. Let's see if I can find him an Eve.

At the same wealthy table, there's a woman who's only started crying once I asked Rey to join me. She knows she's up, she's a smart girl. She's also a very beautiful woman, by current standards--can you zoom in, again?

Walk to me.

She could use some more ass and I fear that's a push up bra, but her face is symmetrical and her lips look like they could take a dick. Steps on those silvery high heels as if they're part of her feet. Let's meet Allison.

Allison is a personal assistant to the same couple and she's also here without having any credentials or a fat bank account. A lot of school, a lot of partying. Perpetually single and prone to be tagged in club photos because she's hot and has that hungry look in her eyes. The one that just invites men to drink themselves to death trying to score someone like her.

Lucky day for people who like Allison, she's going to do a lot for us here.

There they are, next to each other. Can't you see she's crying, Rey? Could you maybe take her hand or something. I fear one of my men might make her cry more and you two are the only ones from this party who have a shot of leaving this boat unharmed. You should be smiling.

Don't ruin it, it's all I'm saying.

Now I want you all to take a very good look at the couple. Wait, I forgot to ask: Allison, are you fucking either or both your bosses?

She's shaking her head no, she's crying so she can't talk properly. This is not an indication of the fun she'll be having, it's just her fear ruining her odds.

But wait, why are you here?! Come on, you didn't put on that tight uncomfortable dress and made your hair circle you like a Barbie wig just to spend Valentine's with your bosses.

Words, please.

"I... we... We were... It was kinda... a blind date."

Aaaa, well don't sound so upset, Allison, this is definitely your lucky day. Did you two get a chance to talk?

"N-no. You, you kinda took over..."

This is unfortunate. I regret interrupting you but you really should go out on less fancier dates. Were they paying? Your bosses?

Say the words!

"Yes."

There we have it, I've performed a reverse Cupid. I've actively kept lovers apart.

Maybe keeping you alive despite your crying is atonement enough.

So we have Rey and Allison, our Demonstrators. They will show what I mean by exemplifying the positions required to get through a challenge. They won't die if they fail, but they'll try everything. I feel it's a fair trade.

I call them challenges but really it's more like scenarios. How many can your love resist?

It's a fitting day, today. And I couldn't have asked for a better crowd. Look at you all, fundraising and shit!

To begin, I'd like to know if there's anyone out there who doesn't think they love their partner enough to survive this? Because I'm telling you, your life will be in their hands. I hope you believed those vows. I hope you love sucking that old dick. Maybe if there's more of you who are honest with yourselves, we can switch. I'm just trying to help you, cause if you can't get it up with your wife then you're kinda worthless to my show. It's vital that you bring something to it.

It's why it's important that you approach my question logically. Are you ready to face this challenge? You assume that this show will last a few hours but I'm here to tell you that it will only be so if you die.

Your life will be in their hands, and you will be responsible for theirs. So I ask you again, are you sure you're with the correct person?

I'll let you think about it, I'm aware it's a difficult question.

It's just that today, of all days, it shouldn't be.

So I'll send the Demonstrators into our very own timeout room, built for this purpose. 'Built' is not the word, cause it's three shower curtains delimiting a square against that wall. But it's where they'll get an hour to come up with a strategy together. You can see them on that monitor, up there, but we won't be able to hear them.

You see, they don't have the luxury of knowing each other's body. She'll move when he'll touch her. Take longer to come. So I'm just trying to help them come up with a strategy.

So Rey, it's your responsibility that Allison stops crying and starts behaving like an adult. It's not because you are a man, I'd tell her to keep you on a leash if I thought you were the weakest link. Right now, you're taking this really well and I encourage you to share some of your tactics with your teammate. It's difficult to survive, as it is.

So they'll get an hour of privacy. And a pill. It increases sex drive, so discuss who needs it more.

When they're ready, we can all proceed with our first challenge. Are you as nervous as I am?

Let's get to know each other. We got one hour to waste. I'll randomly select from the audience. Prepare to be honest, a lie will get you killed. Not shot. Killed. As part of an ongoing process. Live on the internet. Spare your families, be honest!

So, back there, one of the bald men? Why do you think they went with marble? Were they trying to build the heaviest floors possible, on a boat?

Wait, Rey! You'll also be responsible for you two taking off one item of clothing, each. Your choice. Don't disappoint me.

***

"This is not happening."

Rey thinks I'm dumb for saying that. It's all over his pretty face, although he's keeping it together. I just wanna cry until I'm dead.

He stares a lot. It's like he's calculating the inconceivable.

He also forgot his hand over his mouth, which only makes his dark eyes sadder. We're in deep shit if former army guy is in shock.

"I'm just gonna die," I tell him. "It's fine, just... delimitate yourself. I'm fine with dying. I hope you do well!"

He doesn't like my joke, his back is against the wall in more ways than one. I can't sit down like him, I just stand there in that makeshift tarp shower, pretending I don't see four huge men listening to us talk, armed behind those curtains. They seem more interested in the guy leading them. I call him Question Mark.

They're all dressed in black, I don't want to look at their faces for too long, I'm concerned they're not wearing masks. They don't care that we see their faces.

This was supposed to be a one night cruise trip where I spent my first Valentine's with a man, albeit not my boyfriend. Yes, I've never been seriously attached on February 14th. I'm kinda happy, cause I'm not sure I could pass whatever test that psychopath has in mind. Not with anyone I know.

I couldn't even look at Question Mark while on his stage, to me he's one of his soldiers: a big man in dark clothing. His face is tattooed, but it doesn't mean anything, just black question marks. The biggest runs over his cheek and around his left eye, following a scar. There's something about the way he talks. His voice doesn't match his sentences, it's like the enthusiasm behind his words doesn't come from inside him. His eyes move to the left in a weird way after he says something cruel, as if he's saying it to himself. He rarely blinks.

Rey is a practical guy, I can feel him studying me. He'll try to survive this and I'll get him killed.

"What's he doing?" I rhetorically ask, hoping my partner in defeat would say something. I can't watch Question Mark. He's talking to the crowd but the microphone is not amplifying and it's difficult to hear from our "backstage suite". They hear him, though, all around their tables. Respectable families, scared, crying, insulted. From what I can tell, the soldiers are separating some straight couples. I realize the pity I feel for them is better oriented towards myself.

What did Question Mark call me and Rey, his Demonstrators?

"I'm taking my coat off," Rey announces. "Just so you know, in about forty two minutes."

He'd definitely been in the military. He's way too calm. Maybe there was a way out.

"I think we should establish a line," he said.

I stare back, hoping he won't continue.

Of course, he does, "A word. Where we signal to each other we're out."

"Out?"

"Yeah," he points two fingers at his temple, shoots the imaginary gun he was showing. "Cause I think this guy will go out of his way to be cruel. And when you're faced with that, there's always a limit of what you can take before you cease to be you, or a person. I will keep myself alive but if I signal I want you to let me die. Some things I'll just not want to do. I'll do them if it saves someone else--you--but not myself. It's just not worth living."

"But... you can't be considering..."

"I'm thinking next step. If we get saved by a SWAT team, it won't be necessary. I'm not sure we'll be saved in an hour so... maybe take off your bra." His eyes go lower but doesn't suggest anything else.

Thankfully my dress is full length, has sleeves, covers a lot of skin. But I can't even think about going on that stage with no underwear, my thighs get tense just thinking about it.

Fairly transparent, the top half of my dress is white, I'm not sure my nipples won't outline themselves, peek through the lace when left to their own devices. This bra keeps them tame.

I can't help but feel relieved that my "sexual challenge" partner is Rey. I wonder if he's as attracted to me as I am to him, because I'd definitely ended up trying to get him into bed had we been allowed to have our date. Does he also regret that, on top of everything else?

He's like a hot gargoyle, guarding that wall.

"What do you think he'll make us do?" I walk over to him, taking my shoes off along the way. I just pour myself down that wall, next to him, relieved to have something supporting my back.

"Sex stuff, probably."

Rey's not a talker, nor a sugar-coater. I stare at my shiny pedicure, cost me a fortune, just like the dress I'm now regretting. Just so that I could get raped.

We sit in silence until he jumps up. He wears his black suit well. I decide I'm just attracted to survivors cause I'm not one.

In a post-apocalyptic scenario, my best shot is that a man decides he'll take care of me in exchange for me sucking his dick or something. It's my only survival skill.

Didn't need to use it, so far.

"Can you check if there's anything... standing out?" I ask Rey. "I'm gonna take off my bra, I'm just... not sure it won't be worse than taking off my dress."

His head turns to me but I don't turn mine. I'm not the blushing type, so I just stare ahead in a state I like to call "continuous internal shame".

I first test it myself but I can't discern where the nipple is, when I try pulling my left breast out of its cup, it points out its location. I'm more interested in... color not discerning. Shape. From further away.

I get up, "So, is... it too visible?" Rey raises his stare to my chest level. I can tell by his straight face as he studies me that there's evidently something wrong, but I don't know what. I cross my arms over my chest.

He returns to studying his expensive shoes, starting at the end of his long legs, stretched out as if relaxed.

He suggests, "Maybe you should, you know, take just the top off?"

"It's a dress," I inform him.

"He doesn't know that," he winks. "Has a whole thing against the rich. Do you think he knows it's one piece and not two?"

They're very different halves, tight lace and a wide chiffon skirt. White and black.

"I'm too scared to lie," I tell him.

Rey gets up, searches his pockets. Stares at me, something is in his hands, he approaches me, "Put your bra back on."

I push my breast back in its place, I'd forgotten. Before I can look up, Rey's in front of me, "Stay still."

He's cutting around my waist with a pocket knife, removing the lace. He hovers too close, and I don't know why until he whispers in my ear, "I have this knife and I'm trying not to look like I'm hiding it. In case they find it on me."

He winks when I look up, "No one took it from me, not sure if it's because I can't use it to escape or they just missed it."

I nod, I'm still not sure it's worth trying to fight. As I've said, not really an active survivor. I'm more like a cockroach.

Rey was right, the padded bra covers more, and because the skirt is high, I'm not showing a lot of skin. It also pushes my breasts forward and squeezes them together, making them bigger, so they're now fighting each other for a chance to get their tips out.

I don't normally wear lacy white bras and matching underwear, but it was Valentine's Day and I was on a blind date.

Rey seems unaware that I'd wrapped myself up like a present for him, he'd moved back to his place, sitting by the wall. He takes his coat off, throws it away from him, but it hasn't been that long. Didn't he say forty minutes?

His voice sounds weird, "I think they put something in that gas."

Before the soldiers invaded our ballroom, there had been a release of a pink gas, it smelled like roses, at the time I'd thought it was a DJ mistake, cause he'd been releasing smoke all over that dancefloor trying to build an atmosphere. When it cleared, Question Mark started his speech.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"It's just..." He's hesitating, so it must be something awkward. Probably sexual, he can't look at me.

"I just... can't stop," he finally says. "You know, being hard."