The Death Games

The Advisor

Two days later, Alan was dressed up in a simple, yet elegant black suit, and was waiting backstage to go and face one last interview. The memories of the last time he was there haunted him. He was surrounded by the ghosts of so many people, and was missing Anastasia. 

The lights on the stage flared up, and Alan could hear the announcer talking. "Welcome, all! Tonight, we have a very special guest, the victor of the first ever Death Games, Alan Prince!"

Alan stepped onto the stage, and hid his pain behind a false smile. Waving, he walked over to a couch in the middle of the stage. He sat down, still smiling, and faced the announcer, who sat in a chair to his left.

"Alan, as you know, the female victor was killed by none other than Michael before we could get her out of the arena. Thoughts? Opinions?"

Alan shook his head. "I never even learned her name."

The announcer nodded. "We're all aware of how shocking some of your ally's actions in the arena were. Leo and Michael both became cold blooded murders!  What were your emotions at the time?"

"Leo was never a cold blooded murder. He protected us."

"Sure. And Michael?"

"I'm not sure what happened there. He was great, and the next thing I know, he tries to poison Leo and I, and murders the female victor. So I guess I was shocked?"

"None of us will ever truly know what went on in his head at that time. Would you also say that you felt a bit... betrayed?"

Alan nodded. "Yeah."

"This is a touchy subject, but it's safe to say that everyone wants to know. How are you without Anastasia?"

Alan froze, and memories raced through his head. Meeting Anastasia for the first time, seeing her from the other side of their seventh grade homeroom. Smiling. Both of them asking each other out at the same time two weeks later, and their first date, a picnic on the shore of a lake. Countless hours of happiness, their first time, climbing the school popularity ladder together, promising that they'd win the Death Games together, and finally, her death.

"Alan?" The announcer asked.

"I don't know how to live without her." He finally mumbled. 

The announcer nodded sympathetically. "And that's it! Our time is up! Tune in tomorrow for the Winner's Ceremony!"

The cameras were shut off, and assistants helped Alan and the announcer off the stage. They left him as soon as he was in the area where his room was, and he started to walk down the red carpeted hallway.

"Alan!" Someone whispered from a doorway.

He turned around to face them, and the President's Advisor stepped out into the light. "Could I exchange a few words with you?"

He had the faintest hint of an accent. 

"Sure, um..." Alan said, unsure of what to call him.

"It's Dain. Come along." He put his arm on Alan's shoulder and steered him into an empty room, shutting the door behind him. Dain turned on the lights, and turned to face Alan.

Alan stared at him, confused.

"So, Alan. You did an excellent job in the Death Games."

"I guess I did..."

"Not that I approve of them, of course. The President wouldn't listen to me when I tried to convince him not to put them on. Hires an advisor, and doesn't listen to him." Dain frowned.

"You tried to convince him not to?"

"Of course! Children killing each other is fine in fantasy, but in real life, it's unacceptable. Anyway. As his advisor, and trusted confidant, telling you this feels wrong, but I feel that it's important. It's safe to say that our President has lost his mind."

"Lost his mind?"

"Definitely. And that's why I'm going to offer you this." Dain pulled out a needle from a pocket on his cardigan. "One prick, and he's dead in five minutes. Relatively painless."

"You want me to kill him."

"I'm afraid so. In his current state, he's unfit to lead. I'd take over, and I can discontinue the Death Games for you."

Alan offered no response, so Dain crouched down so Alan was forced to stare into his blue eyes. "Take the needle, Alan."

Alan did so.

Dain got back up, and walked over to the doorway. He looked back at Alan just before leaving. "I'm not going to pressure you to do anything. Just think on it, okay? For the good of the country, yourself, and your beloved Anastasia."

Dain nodded once, then left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Alan slowly moved over to the bed and sat on it, never taking his eyes off the needle.