The Exchange
Round 1: Vacant, Part 2

It was an impossible situation. Each of the three imposing figures appeared to be more than a match for the humble ringleader, and it was rather unlikely they were willing to fight one at a time. Would it even have to come to violence? Really, there was no alternative to be found. Four competitors, with only three of them moving onto the next round. Either DeLargo accepted his fate, or be annihilated in combat.

No, there was but one option. The Mask slipped into position, and the show began.

‘Good day, my fellow competitors. Or rather, whatever one could describe the time to be in this dark and sinister place,’ He announced, with a bow and a smile.

Jacob merely continued his distrustful glare. There was something suspicious about this man. Something artificial. Something wrong. They couldn’t risk taking unnecessary excursions into conversation and friendships. This was a tournament, and everyone was an opponent. None were to be trusted, much less one with the smile of a shark.

Erika, on the other hand, took a much more optimistic optimistic approach.

‘Errm… Hi,’ She replied rather sheepishly. ‘So… Umm… What are we going to do about that door?’

Ray had been so much better at this sort of thing.

‘My dear, must we resort to business so quickly? I was rather hoping I could get to know those that are going to best me in this competition.’ He laughed, placing a hand on his chin. Erika wasn’t sure how to respond.

‘O...kay… I’m Erika, this is Ja-’

‘Erika, are you sure we should be talking?’ Jacob whispered, loud enough for DeLargo to hear. ‘This guy’s our opponent. You heard Death. Only three people get to go ahead, and there are 4 people here.’

Clever boy.

‘Sir, you shouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions. I merely wish to exercise the joy of conversation before we get down to the nitty-gritty of how to deal with this task. Please continue, Miss Erika.’

Definitely something off, thought Jacob.

‘Yeah… This is Jacob, and over there is… Ray…’ A knot tied itself in her throat as she said his name. Behind her, it continued its never-ending gaze. She could feel it, burning into the back of her head.

‘I see that Mister Ray isn’t much of a talker,’ the ringleader chuckled. He held out a hand towards Erika, beaming. ‘Well, my name is Mr. DeLargo, and I suppose we ought to discuss the more pressing matter of how to get past that door.’ He pointed in its general direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the shimmer of something golden.

‘Yeah, we should.’ Erika was beginning to feel much more at ease with this stranger. Perhaps matters could be resolved peacefully after all. She opened her mouth to continue, but Jacob interrupted.

‘No, it’s obvious. Three of us, one of you. You lose. Go sit in the corner or something while we find the key.’

‘Come now, that doesn’t sound very fair. Here I was thinking we could discuss the matter like gentlemen.’

Erika sighed. She could feel Jay, working himself up. Things would only escalate from here, unless she acted fast.

‘Okay then, what do you suggest we do, Mr. DeLargo?’

Something of a grin spread itself across the ringleader’s face.

‘Now, I think you would agree that the fairest way of determining the winner would be a simple scavenger hunt. Whoever finds the key first gets to continue. That way, you still have the advantage, but it’s still possible for someone as ordinary as I to continue into the next round. Does that sound about right to you?’

The wind mage bit her lip. It was a ludicrous suggestion. She wasn’t about to gamble the fate of Ray for that of a complete stranger. Yet, at the same time, she knew. She knew that Ray would have agreed to this bargain. If he was here now…

‘No.’

She turned to look at Jacob, whose eyes were firmly fixed upon the stranger in the bright red coat.

‘Beg your pardon?’

‘No. You don’t have a choice here. The three of us are heading into the next round, not you. Surrender peacefully, or we’ll use force.’

DeLargo chuckled, and walked casually over towards Jay.

‘My friend,’ he began, before changing expression and peering over Jacob’s shoulder. ‘Oh my, is everything all right with your friend?’

‘What?’ Jay spun round to look at Ray, fearing the worst. But he was just standing there, silent as before, unharmed and unmoved.

And then he felt it.


There was no guilt. There was no remorse, or sympathy, or empathy of any kind. This was a competition, and those that stood in his way were nothing but obstacles to be destroyed.

The ringleader let the knife slide smoothly out of Jacob’s back as the dirty-blonde brawler fell to the ground. DeLargo’s lips were curled into an expression of hate-filled malice, almost admiring the attack with artistic appreciation. The Mask had been cast to the ground, and his true self was revealed at last.

Erika screamed, shoving the ringleader out of the way and dropping to the ground. She pulled Jay into her arms, trying to inspect the wound. It wasn’t too deep, but it was as she had feared.

‘You know, that will do little good,’ DeLargo taunted. ‘I drove my little friend here into one of his vertebrae. He’s lucky if he can still breathe, let alone control other… bodily functions.’

‘Why…?’ She choked through bitter tears. ‘Why did you-’

‘Do that? Well, dear Miss Erika, he gave me no other option. I offered you both a fair chance to compete without resorting to this, but you shoved it back in my face. Really, it’s your own fault. Now, if you excuse me, I have a key to find.’

With that, he spun on one foot and marched towards the conveyor belts. Erika moved to follow, just as Jay let a mouthful of blood fall from his lips.

She was out of options. Let Jay bleed to death in a desperate attempt to fight, or allow their only chance of saving Ray to slip through blood-stained fingers?

Damn it.

Footsteps thudded behind her as the looming shell walked over to her.

Damn it.

She could feel it now, watching her. Staring at her in failure with her love’s stolen eyes. For a moment, she lost herself in her rage, and her rage consumed her mind.

‘Why!? Why are you even here!?  You’re not Ray, you’re not even human! You’re just some empty ghost of a dead man, and I hate you!’


Something stirred within the clouded mind of Ray’s body. A memory. An echo of an emotion, calling through the icy fog. He looked at the motionless body of a man he might have known, then back to the streaming eyes of the woman.

A light appeared in the mist, drawing him closer. He began to feel something. Something hot, like fire, burning deep inside him. The man on the floor was his friend. A figure of nostalgia and comfort, cut down in front of his very eyes. And then there was the woman.

Erika. The light was blinding now, burning into his heart. Pain. Pain spread through him, rippling through his mind and chest. And it was the red-coat’s fault. Ray drew his sword, and walked towards DeLargo.

The ringleader had already begun opening the various boxes, growing increasingly desperate in his search. The more time he wasted, the more time something could go-

He heard a boot scuffle behind him, and flung himself to the side just in time for a sword to cleave a  steel safe in half.

- Wrong.

DeLargo struggled to his feet, holding his cane out defensively.

‘Oh, I forgot about you,’ he spat. Ray simple stared. An expressionless mask of a man, burning with invisible rage. Empty, completely empty.

Like you.

He ran forwards for another attack. DeLargo attempted to parry the blade with his cane, but crumpled under the sheer force of impact. “Ray’s” movements were slow and clumsy, but there was still the technique of a skilled warrior behind them. The coat-clad youth rolled across the floor, barely avoiding another blow from Ray. Reaching the conveyor belt, he felt around desperately for something to fend his attacker off.

~~~

Erika watched as Ray effortlessly blocked each flying box, continuing his grim march between their opponent. Perhaps he was Ray. The horror of the previous day had been nothing but a forgotten nightmare, which Ray was slowly escaping.

She reached into her bag for more iodine. Ray could fend off their antagonist until she treated Jay’s wound. The bleeding had slowed, the crimson flow beginning to ebb back toward the gouge in his back. All that needed doing now was ensuring no infection could arise before Samara could see to it. She took one last look at the battle before moving back to work.

Yes, it was definitely Ray.

~~~

DeLargo crashed into a wall with a sickening crunch. He fell to the floor just in time for Ray’s blade to embed itself into the concrete above him. Wheezing, he leapt to his feet, and pulled out the knife once more. The silent man was far more of a challenge than he had thought. He swung it in a wide arc, narrowly grazing Ray’s cheek. The swordsman knocked it to the ground, and kicked DeLargo square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the floor.

The battle was pointless. He was clearly outmatched in every aspect. Agility, skill, strength - Ray held every advantage, and he didn’t show any signs of giving up soon.

But there was one hope left, and DeLargo caught sight of it as Ray wrenched his sword free from the wall.

Nestled amongst the polystyrene shavings of a delivery box was the unmistakable form of the key.

The ringleader scrambled madly to get to it in time, Ray in close pursuit. His fingers closed around the cold metal as the next blow buried itself between his shoulder blades. DeLargo cried out in pain,  collapsing once more to the floor. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the triumphant figure of the silent man. Before he could move, he felt a boot stamp firmly on his chest. Holding him in place. Ensuring the next attack hit. DeLargo struggled in vain as Ray raised his sword for one final strike.

A sudden scream of agony rang through the room, emanating from behind him. The stoic swordsman automatically turned to look back at the other two people in the room. Erika had just poured something into the man’s back. But the sound of his scream. It felt painful. A tangible pain that echoed within Ray himself. Another beacon lit within the fog of his mind. Jacob. The one on the floor was Jacob. And he was in pain.

‘Jacob.’ The short croak escaped from Ray’s motionless lips as he stared at his wounded friend. Erika’s head shot to face his direction, staring at him in shock. He spoke. He spoke. A single word, lost in the mechanical hum of the grey room. And yet, it retained its meaning.

She didn’t notice DeLargo until it was too late.

~~~

Still having second thoughts?

He remained motionless, his hand on the cane.

You know, it’s preposterous to hold such reservations.

The cane had fallen away, revealing the blade that slept beneath.

In this tournament, we’re all already dead.

The sword stretched upwards, towards the silent man.

And the only way to live…

It was like cutting through ribbon, red swirling through the air as though confetti.

...is to ensure everybody else doesn’t.

~~~

It had happened again. She had let her own weakness overcome her, and she had lost him again. Just like before. Weak and useless, unable to do more than watch as her heart was shred to pieces. Erika could do nothing but watch as Ray collapsed to his knees, a sword protruding from his back. An arm convulsed, followed by another. Behind him, the figure of DeLargo rose from the floor, reaching towards his opponent. There was a final convulsion, the sickening shwink of metal sliding against flesh, and then silence.

She tried to swallow, but her throat was too full of knots. Knots on an endless string, stretching into infinity. And something was rising. It escaped from her eye as a tear. It left her lips as a breath. Erika began panting. Something had come loose inside her, and it was close to breaking free.

Ray. Ray. Ray.

She began to rise from the floor, winds building around her. It was useless to try and keep control. Gales gathered towards her, a silent storm brewing from absolutely nowhere.

Ray.

She screamed. An impossible, wordless wail of deepest pain and feral fury. The air exploded, and the world began to spin.

DeLargo felt himself lift from the ground. He flailed his arms in reflex, managing to wrap a hand around one of the gate’s metal bars. Straining his neck, he attempted to look into the insanity where the room had stood.

What used to be a twisted mockery of a warehouse had became a mad vortex of whirling debris, gales sweeping the outskirts of the room and gathering what lay below. The PA was torn from the ceiling, and embedded itself into the wall. A conveyor belt flew from the ground, caught in the impossible tornado. And at the centre of it all was Erika, curled into a ball, much like a child in the womb. A russian doll crashed into DeLargo’s wrist, sending the key flying into the tempest. The ringleader cursed, grabbing the gate once more as the winds increased in force.

A filing cabinet flew past his head, taking his hat with it. He had to escape. Somehow, he had to get past the gate, to the relative safety of the next room. He was close enough to the steel lock, all he needed was…

The key. He spotted it for a moment amongst the flying objects, its golden lustre darting just beyond sight. It flew past his face, just as he attempted to grab it. He watched as it flew around the room, shooting between crates and cardboard boxes. He went to grab it again, his fingers just brushing against its rough edges. A crate flew into the metal bars next to him, shattering into a thousand splinters.

Concentrate.

DeLargo watched as the key completed another lap of the warehouse, before gliding towards him once more. Then he noticed it.

His knife was flying near-parallel to the key, its blood-stained metal glistening in the wind, pointing directly towards the centre of the room. Towards Erika.

He knew what would happen. He knew the consequences of letting it continue on its path to destruction. But he already made his choice. The Mask pleaded to reconsider, to do the right thing.

DeLargo’s hand clasped the brass key, and he scrunched his eyes shut.

The winds died down, slowing to a halt. His feet found the floor as the air calmed around him. He prayed it hadn’t happened. He wished he was wrong, and it was nothing but chance. Daring to open his eyes, the ringleader looked towards Erika.

She lay on the ground, both hands over her chest. Her eyes were open, staring vacantly toward the heavens. She looked peaceful, untouched by the scattered debris surrounding her. Her pale skin was untouched by dirt or dust, radiating what little light was to be found in the room.

The knife had buried itself into her heart.

Ray’s corpse was off to one side, a bruised and battered hand reaching out toward her. His eyes were closed, the expressionless face in peace at last. Left forever, next to the body of his love.

Silently, DeLargo walked towards her. Whether his sympathy was genuine, or a mere performance by the Mask, he could not be sure. He knelt at her side, and brushed the hair from her face. Did it have to be this way? Could he honestly look back, and claim all this was unavoidable?

He placed a hand over her eyes as he drew the knife from her chest. The rest of his cane lay nearby, next to his hat and an empty box of roses.

You had no choice, you know. It was them or you.

DeLargo took a final look at the room, and placed the key in the lock. A heavily callused hand jutted out from beneath a pile of rubble. He tried his best to ignore it.

Would you truly want to be trapped here forever?

The key turned easily, as though aided by mechanical fingers. The grind of countless gears filled the room, followed by the scraping sound of chain against stone. The gate slid open, as did the metal bars covering the entrance.

There’s no use moping. They didn’t care about you. They were nothing like you. What possible reason is there to care?

The coat-clad youth paused on the threshold of the crimson door, his gaze falling to the floor.

‘They were just like me.’