Joe bolted through the jungle after Jane, then dove to the ground, getting low. He knew she'd grabbed the paintball gun and a stick so he'd have to keep his head down for a while. He crawled behind the cover of some rocks and reached for the cat-o-nine tails.
It infuriated him that since coming into The Arena, he'd had to play by their rules, mostly Jane Colt's double-standard rules. They could kick him anywhere, touch him anywhere, dump rotten tomatoes on him, walk all over him, even spit on him, and he couldn't even slap them in certain areas, couldn't reach for the weapons or remote control devices they'd tucked under their clothing. And what really got under his collar was Jane's popularity--she'd be cashing in on a small fortune with the production of "Astral Sea," while his own show "Space Games" was still in audition mode, a precarious state at best. This latter fact grated at him no less than Jane Colt's singing voice, which he'd heard when she'd taken center stage to belt out that bogus song of hers. At first, Joe had thought someone in the crowd had stepped on a cat's tail. Then, of course, there were all the hijackings in which Jane had interrupted Joe during promotional TV and radio spots, or insulted him in the mainstream press.
Seething with anger, but remaining low, Joe circled the clearing, stopping when he was several feet away from her, behind the cover of the giant fronds of a glass plant. He stood and brought the whip back. When he saw Jane turn to survey the plant cover behind which he hid, Joe brought the whip forward and struck at the only spot he felt the unfair rules would allow him.
And the prickly lashes struck the top of Jane Colt's foot and she did a clumsy little dance. Joe charged her, delighted by his opening strike.
Posted: 12/06/2012 19:56:20