"Welcome, everyone, to the Recherché Tournament! The bi-annual games will begin very shortly! Let me remind the contestants of the rules for the tournament. As you know, there is a bracket that displays where all the contestants are ranking in at. There is one champion and he or she will gain the 'Impervious Award' and reign as the overall victor! If anyone is caught cheating, there will be an immediate disqualification, for there is no tolerance of such behavior. Please recall that this is a live broadcast and..."
Derek Kemp sighed deeply, drumming his fingers on his knee while glancing around the pristine, circular room where the Recherché was being held. He brushed his chocolate brown locks out of his face, emerald green eyes glinting as they took in his surroundings. The room was lit brightly by several lamps that highlighted the ten podiums that stood in the center of the large room. The walls were mostly a lacquered white, sparkling when the television crew moved the lights around. There were several squares in the ceiling that showed off a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. The bracket, the golden trails leading from each name to the center, that read 'Impervious Champion!' stood behind the circular stage. Derek also noted that there were two doors at opposite ends of the expansive room. One doorway was how the contestants had gained entrance to the building, but Derek was not sure what the other, nondescript door led to. Curiously, it was a dull shade of scarlet , as though someone had left it out in the sun too long and it had been bleached of color.
Quite an odd color, if I do say so myself, he thought to himself, rubbing his chin. I wonder where it leads.
"...now if the first round will please stand and take your places at the appropriate podium that would be fantastic! Thank you, and this is your host Richard Teivel !"
Derek made no move to gain a spot on the elevated platform where the podiums were, as his turn would not be until the next round. While the other contestants stood and headed forward, murmuring nervously amongst themselves, he reviewed the instructions of the tournament, which were displayed on a mini tablet that he had been given upon entering the building.
The Recherché: Rules and Reminders
There are 13 rounds in total. The first ten rounds consists of ten participants who contend with each other (reminder: there are no teams), and battle it out until one person remains standing. These survivors are called fausts and the fausts are broken into two groups of five. These five fausts then challenge each other in two rounds consisting of five participants. The winners of these two rounds are then put in the final match and whomever wins this match is the Impervious Champion! Remember, the Recherché is a tournament that measures intelligence, not good looks, strength, or wits, it's all about how much you've studied and retained. Good luck to you all!
And remember: remove the unwanted, glorify the exalted .
Derek looked up as the music began the lights started to flash, signaling the commencement of Round I. Derek saw that all the participants were around his age, some younger, some only a year or two older, but they were all young people. Derek noticed that some looked a little intimidated by the flashing lights and loud music, while others arrogantly rested idly upon the stage. Derek briefly wondered if the arrogant ones would be the first ones to lose.
Onstage, Richard Teivel, a good looking middle-aged man with wavy blond hair and a dazzling smile was speaking to the participants, using his arms to punctuate his words.
"Ready? Let's begin! Please let me finish saying the question before you buzz in or you will be disqualified. Whoever gets the most points in this first round will become a faust; and if you answer incorrectly...well, that would be tragic," Mr. Teivel laughed humorlessly, his dark eyes glinting, then turned his smiling face back to the camera. "Are you ready, great citizens of Abadd?n ? Let's play!"
Derek leaned back in his chair, fidgeting gently with the tablet in his hands. His father, one of the first to contend in the tournament, had given Derek a fair warning on how difficult it was, and that he would need to study quite a bit to get far in the competition. The Recherché was a test of intellect and, as such, Derek's father hired only the best tutor for his son. Derek recalled the tedious hours spent reviewing his studies and how much he worked to gain as much knowledge as he could...
"You're doing very well, Derek! Just like your father; he was brilliant to watch on television, let me tell you. Now remember, survival is the key to winning this competition, so don't let your guard down for an instant!"
Derek remembered his tutor's words well. Survival was the idea here, not just winning the tournament. It was with such intensity that both his father and tutor said 'survive' that just struck him to the core, and he held that close to him.
A sudden and rather irritating alarm went off, the game room flashing blood red. An outbreak of anxious whispering began, and Derek's eyes went straight up to the raised stage.
Someone had gotten a question wrong. Several men in black suits, helmets, and an obnoxious amount of gear swarmed one unfortunate man who looked utterly terrified as two of the beefy men grabbed him by the arms and practically dragged him away, towards the faded red door...
Dad never did tell me what happened to the contestants who lost...
"Funny, that red door, isn't it?"
A sudden, fluttery voice interrupted Derek's thoughts, making him jump involuntarily. He turned to see a woman, about his age, curled up in her chair, staring at him. He looked back at her uncomfortably for a moment, taking in her silvery orbs and alabaster skin. Her rose dusted lips, dark hair, and intense gaze reminded him of a lifeless doll, and he shuddered.
"Uh, yeah, sure," he mumbled, trying to put some distance between himself and the woman. "Pretty weird."
"I've heard a lot about what happens behind it. My mother said it used to be white when the Recherché first began," she murmured, still staring at him unceasingly. "But over the years it's gained a red tint because of all the blood spilled behind it. It all soaked up into the frame and there isn't enough material left to make a new one."
"Blood...? Stop fooling around. No one dies here, it's just a way for the government to measure people's intellects," muttered Derek, turning from the woman.
"Suit yourself," she said airily, delicately resting her head on her hand.
Derek stared at the girl, his eyes narrowing in confusion. What was she talking about? People didn't die at the Recherché! This game was made to measure the intellects of Abadd?nian citizens for government records. At least, that's what he was told since he was a small child.
"Derek, you may hear some wild rumors about the Recherché, but remember that the idea is to remove the unwanted and worship the exalted. We need to have only the best of the best carry on the human legacy," John Kemp said to his young son.
The little boy smiled at his father. "I'm gonna make you proud, Daddy!"
"I know you will, son, I know you will."
--
"John, it's true, they're murdering people in that sick game...you can't let Derek compete!"
"It's a law, honey. He would die anyway if I said he couldn't go. We just can't tell him--"
"Daddy?"
--
Derek frowned deeply, the woman's words rekindling an old memory that he'd stored away.
"Don't try to think about it too much. Just play the game the best you can," said the girl, smiling gently. "You need to survive the first round at least."
Derek opened his mouth to say something, but he was startled when one of the game assistants came up to him with a smile and said, "Hello! It's your round, dear. Please step forward!"
Derek watched as the faust from the previous round took his place on the opposite side of the room, his eyes wide and a small grin on his face. Derek frowned back at the nameless woman, who was now idly staring off into the distance as though bored. To his annoyance, his interest had been piqued and he wanted to ask her more...
She's probably just messing with my head, trying to get me to lose focus or something...
"Ready? It's time to begin round two...!"
Nine rounds later, Derek found himself a faust along with the ten other fausts who had survived the brutal round of questions. To his slight discomfort (and secret pleasure), the angelic-like woman had also made it to faust status, and she sat a chair away from him, once again looking as though she did not care. Her strangely carefree manner (even in the face of difficult questions she retained it) intrigued Derek, and he felt an odd tug towards her.
"Contestants, congratulations on becoming fausts! The next round will begin in an hour, so please take this time to review the rules, recuperate, and have some refreshments! Good luck!" Richard Teivel said jovially as he strolled by, heading towards a slick refrigeration unit for a water-supplement (the planet no longer had any natural drinking water).
As the contestants around him stood and stretched, talking amongst themselves, Derek quickly hopped over next to the ethereal woman, gently clearing his throat when she made no move to acknowledge him.
"Ah, excuse me..." he began.
"Cassandra ."
"What?"
"That's my name, since you so politely asked," she said smoothly, still staring straight ahead. "And I suppose you're over here to ask what I was talking about earlier, right?"
Once again, Derek could hardly believe what he was hearing. Could she read minds? What was up with her?
"No, I cannot read minds, you're just very obvious," she said, letting out a sigh. "So I would suggest closing your gaping mouth. It's obnoxious."
Derek glared at her, snapping his jaw shut and frowning deeply. "Listen, all I want you to do is..."
"Yes, I recall," said Cassandra. "Listen to me, Derek Kemp, the reason I know about the red door is because my mother was wrongly accused of saying an incorrect answer. She was dragged away from the stage and right through the red door before the host corrected his error. Guess what she saw."
Derek couldn't believe what he was hearing. Either Cassandra was utterly mad or...
"Dead bodies," Cassandra continued, her large eyes widening slightly. "Of all the contestants who had failed before her...bloodstained. Curiously, the room was refrigerated and so she could only assume they were going to be--recycled."
"What are you blabbering about? Is she bothering you young man?" Richard Teivel, who had been passing by, stopped short and glared down at Cassandra. "What are these ridiculous claims?"
"Hello," said Cassandra, her demeanor never changing, but Derek noticed her face harden slightly as she looked at Richard Teivel. "I know your secrets, Mr. Teivel. I know the planet won't last for much longer. I know you're trying to weed out people 'not worth' keeping alive and I know their bodies are being used. I know everything."
Teivel snapped his fingers before Cassandra could say another word, and several armed men came from the corners of the room, surrounding her and clamping a hand over her mouth.
"You will not speak such lies about what the Recherché is about!" Teivel snapped. "You are hereby disqualified!"
Derek was utterly shocked into silence as Cassandra was roughly hauled away. She did nothing to fight back. The other contestants had all fallen silent, staring as the security team pulled her towards the red door. Derek began to run forward, to help her, but another security man snatched him, holding him tightly.
"I'm very sorry about that, young man. She seemed incredibly disturbed in the head," apologized Richard Teivel. "She won't be bothering us again."
Derek stared at him, enraged. "What do you me--."
The muffled sound of a gun echoed around the now quiet building. A woman screamed next to him, and the other contestants huddled together, staring around in fear. Derek's heart stopped for a few moments, disbelief written all over his face.
"You--you murderer!" he shouted, struggling to break free from the security man's grip. "Murder in cold blood!"
Teivel laughed, throwing his head back and holding his stomach. "Murder! Ha, you seem to forget this great country's motto: Remove the unwanted; glorify the exalted. She was mad. Mad as anything and certainly not wanted. I'm surprised her parents let her grow up this far. Usually people like her are culled far sooner."
Derek felt bile rise in his throat as Teivel spoke those words. Culled. A human being...culled. Though Derek had grown up hearing such terms he suddenly felt a sharp disgust for it. Though it was common knowledge that those who were not of 'normal' standards were often culled before year one, the word now took on a whole new meaning.
"But she was brilliant! I thought the world needed more people like her!"
"What are you talking about? She was questioning authority! Tyranny I call it! The government provides and the people worship, that's how it goes," said Teivel, anger obvious in his snarl. "Take him away, too! He's been poisoned!"
"I have done nothing wrong!" roared Derek as he pulled hard against the security guard's firm grip. All he wanted to do was get justice for Cassandra, for now he truly believed what she told him about the Recherché.
"Stop playing games, boy, you're as mad as she was. You parents should have culled you before you grew up!"
Derek pulled away from the one security guard who held him, and went to swing at Teivel's dastardly face, but other armed guards seemed to materialize out of nowhere and subdued him quickly. In the struggle, Derek's glasses fell off , and his world blurred, causing apparitions to appear and Teivel seemed to grow horns.
"Stop fighting it, boy. It will do us no good if you do," said Teivel, turning his back on the young man. "Culling is a necessary process, you understand. You are simply a weed that needs to be removed. Shame; you seemed so bright."
"You may have won this battle, but the war has yet to begin!" Derek yelled over his shoulder, staring straight at the eight remaining Recherché contestants. "Humanity must bond together if we are to truly survive!"
Derek gave one fleeting glance at a camera, still filming live and being broadcast across the nation, before being pulled into the cooled room behind the red door.