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In the halls of the stadium, Thurwar smiled at the pang of uneasiness she felt as the newly minted Grand Colossal.[*2] A kind of ownership. She was now almost three full years in, and she felt a proprietary hold over her new title. A title she’d earned after the recent death of one of the best friends she’d had in this part of her life. It was hers now, Grand Colossal. And while Staxxx may have just told the crowds to call her Colossal, the fact was, for now at least, Staxxx was still a Harsh Reaper.
Angola-Hammond Chain got where they needed to go, he cared for the convicts. They were the most popular Chain of all time, many of them celebrities in their own right. And in those moments on the road when no one was watching, he was their leader, kind of. Jerry
“The beauty of Chain-Gang”—a phrase Wil dispatched several times a week—“is that it’s both a team sport and a solo game. The tension between both is the key to the whole thing. In a Melee you have to act as a team, and same in doubles matches, but you get rewarded for offing your own teammates too.”
What if all she was good for was killing and everything that she said was just decoration? What if the exact opposite of what she hoped was true, that rather than everyone being a diamond at their core, what if they were shit in a pretty container? What if they were shit in a diamond coat? What if she disappeared Randy from the earth? She loved who he was. But what if her life was all about killing people she loved? Who loved her. That was what it sometimes seemed like.
Chain-Gang was both of those things. Chain-Gang was adventure, openness. It was beautiful women who sometimes killed people handing out ice cream. It was compelling, easy watching or the most visceral viewing experience ever conceived. And so here he was. One of the conductors, invisible to all, watching as the people gathered to see what he had made and maybe get some ice cream.
the HMC. “I love you,” Thurwar said. And they were released
