Chapter 2: A Storm Brewing

Chapter 2: A Storm Brewing.

Owen wakes the following morning, slightly perturbed at Blaze; who is practicing his Llama calls in the barracks only a few feet away from where he was sleeping and in a voice loud enough to wake the dead; not good for someone as light a sleeper as he is. Not in a good mood, he showers quickly, has breakfast and after an hour of training, starts exploring the complex that will be his home for the foreseeable future, spending all of his time alone and contemplating yesterday’s argument with Troy.



His exploring come to a close when he finds one of the chambers used for the final ceremony of a defeated contender; a solemn rite that he has seen on television a couple times; though he never imagined he would be so close to the chamber in real life, or have the possibility of participating in one of the ceremonies himself. That sobering fact brings reality crashing down on his head; a room like this one can be in his future if he isn’t careful, him or any of the other Sims sharing quarters here beneath the arena and likely they are sharing the same trepidation or doubt that he is experiencing at present; except maybe Blaze.

“That idiot is so oblivious to his situation that he will be first to go.” He mutters sourly, still a little grumpy at the rude awakening he got from the childish man. Suddenly a little chilled, he walks up to the arena itself and looks out the gates at the passing cars, wishing for just a moment that he could just leave this all behind; find some tiny island somewhere where he wouldn’t be found and live in peace.



Elsewhere in the complex, Ayasha has decided to overcome her pre-conceived notions about Troy; when she sees him in the training room; having only seen him in the kitchen, seemingly at Rowena’s back. She makes a genuine attempt to at least get to know a little about him and surprisingly, he is in a talkative mood. He is troubled and a little withdrawn, but genuinely charming and soon, like many criminals do in prison; the talk turns to the reason he is there and as shaming it is for him, he tells her the events that conspired to bring him here; and how he inadvertently dragged Owen along for the ride.

“I made some bad choice as a kid, and spent some time in Talbot’s Peak correctional as a result of those choices. When I got out as an adult, I tried to put all of it behind me and take a different path.” He says with a sigh, as though regretful of his life so far. “Xander Clavell was a friend from childhood and a person who could have been sent away with me, but didn’t because his dad was wealthy enough to afford a good attorney… he figured since I didn’t testify against him that he owed me a favor. He told me with a little help, I could have twenty thousand free and clear for that debt. I didn’t know what was happening at first, just taking deliveries here and there, usually unmarked bags or boxes. It wasn’t long before I started to understand what was happening, but by then it was too late. Xander wouldn’t let me out once I was in; so I had little choice, either do what he asked and become like him or he would find a nice warm place for me and my family.” he says and goes on to tell her of the argument between him and Owen the previous day.



Ayasha, in her youth had seen things like that before and knows nothing good can come from a grudge like that and knows that one or the other will end up dead; maybe even before they get to the ring. She is strangely sympathetic to him and even though she is deliberately sketchy about her past, she speaks in no uncertain terms about what could possibly happen.

“You need to tell him that you had no choice, bad things could happen if you continue down this road. One of you may die before you even have a chance to climb into the ring like a man.” Troy agrees with the assessment of the strange woman and goes to find Owen; who is just staring absently out the gates.



The tenseness between them is palpable as Troy slowly comes out to him about the nature of his criminal activity and the reason he hadn’t had a choice about the lifestyle he had lived. He speaks at length about his relationship with Xander Clavell, his past and how those choices had shaped who he became and Owen listens with half an ear. When he tries to apologize for the events of the past few days and how things went down there at the end, Owen doesn’t let it go, in fact he is quite perturbed. “You are wrong in one fact… you did have a choice in one thing. Either you could have told me what you were into so I could at least have the option to stay or leave, or you could have just not answered my calls about a room for rent, told me they were already occupied… anything… “He growls angrily.



Owen is past the point of rage and advances on Troy threateningly, who just tries to back away from the other man before something happens that both of them will regret. Owen is also beyond reasoning with and despite the best efforts of the charismatic Troy, a fight ensues; there within yards of the arena and it lasts for several long minutes.





It ends even more abruptly than it started… with Troy at the bottom of the stairs unconscious and Owen looking down in mix of residual anger and horror at what he had just done. All of his strenuous military training and discipline thrown out the window in one rash decision (well two) and he silently vows that he will never make that wrong choice again. Whatever brought him here is irrelevant now… finding a way to survive is his new purpose. Troy stirs after a few minutes and Owen even helps him to his feet, taking him into the barracks to lie down and recuperate.







It isn’t long before they are back to training, and settle into a tense camaraderie, considering that one or both of them will likely be dead soon. Owen will never forget what Troy had done to him, but at the least he can put aside his feelings about it for now and focus on readying himself for the contest; scheduled to start any day now, whenever the overseer makes his appearance. Every year has a different one and he and the rest have all idly wondered who will be running the show this year. Troy and Owen settle down and they even spar a little with each other, though it becomes too tense and uncomfortable for it to continue for long.



The evening of the third day sees Troy finally starting to become at peace within him, while contemplating the events of the days prior and though he is still sore from the tumble down the stairs, he is certain that his ribs aren’t broken and he will be healed up by the time the contest commences. He slips into a meditative trance for the first time ever, his mind and conscience both blessedly clear.














  

Chapter 1: Into The Arena

Chapter 1: Into The Arena

The fateful eight enter the sprawling complex, staring in awe at the sheer size and ambience of suppressed energy filling the place. As the rest of them head down to investigate what will be their home for the duration of this endeavor, Ayasha goes to the hexagon combat ring in the center, knowing here is the most important spot in the complex. She had entered first and watched the others as they walked through the yawning portal, full of purpose and possible trepidation.







Most seem determined, not something Ayasha is used to seeing from her potential enemies; normally they are too fearful of her uncle to do anything but talk. She wonders idly what these people are like, and whether she can find their weaknesses before they try to take her down. They spend a while taking in their surrounding before heading down the stairs into the nether regions of the arena, where the living spaces are.

Inside is a barracks with eight beds, training halls with practice dummies, board breakers and regular hard iron for those wanting to simply bulk up, and a large kitchen capable of feeding them all and more.



Things go wrong pretty much immediately when she meets a purple-haired woman named Rowena in the kitchen and thinks “What a ridiculous color for hair she has.” The other present in a towering, well-muscled black man named Troy with the look of a thug, who eyes her up and down, taking in her tattoos and physical bearing. “Get a load of this woman and her painted face… must think its Halloween or something” Rowena says to Troy with a snort making Ayasha instantly hate her. Her tattoos are a source of pride for her, and show her place in society at a glance for those that know how.

“A painted face indeed.” She mutters, launching into a tirade about how ridiculous the other woman’s hair looks. A heated argument between them ensues, with Troy just watching from the side expressionless, though seemingly ready to jump in to aid Rowena.

Blaze; trying to take his mind off the events that brought him here, adds to the chaos when he decides to have some fun by sneaking up on Saraya Marquez, who is watching Tarik and Troy play foosball in the recreation room while muttering under her breath. He doesn’t know her that well and should have given the idea a second, if not third consideration. Once the initial shock wears off, she grabs him physically and throws him into the nearby practice room.





“Grraaahhh! You think you can have fun at my expense, think again!” She shouts and proceeds to try and show him why she is a six-time gold medalist in the olympics. To her surprise, he proves to be a fairly tough opponent and just barely gains the upper hand against him. When they go their separate ways; Saraya raging within at her underestimation of the childish Blaze, and him somewhat oblivious, thinking instead about his last fight and remembering with a frown what had gotten him into this situation, thinking perhaps he shouldn’t do that anymore.

Since the fight between Ayasha and Rowena is over for now, Troy goes to find Owen with the intention of apologizing for dragging him into his criminal activity, but the other man irrationally doesn’t want to hear it, vowing to make him pay for what he did; namely ruining his life.



After the argument, Ayasha attempts to get to know some of her new roommates, hoping to win them over to her side; or at least give her some insight on how they think, and soon finds Saraya in the bathroom; just having gotten done making faces at herself in the mirror. While she seems okay, something is definitely off about her, Ayasha notices that she seems distant; like she is unsure of Ayasha’s intentions.

She decides to end the conversation when the other woman starts ranting to about some guy named Antonio, seemingly talking to herself more than Ayasha.





Wandering back into the barracks, she finds

Simon is searching for a place to lie down; it has been a long day for him apparently. He seems like a nice guy, though a little geeky, and he chats with her amiably, though she doesn’t make much progress in winning him over or give away much about himself. He seems to find her untrustworthy; perhaps something happened to him to make him that way, so she decides to try and find out later.



Everyone seems to be retiring for the night, but she is too excited to sleep, taking a wandering tour of the complex instead and finds the training room, relishing the metallic tang of sweat in the air inside. She makes her way to one of the board breakers and proceeds to work out all of her excess energy and excitement.



It is nearly an hour of working out before she passes out on her cot from sheer exhaustion and her last thoughts before falling asleep is wondering what tomorrow will bring for her and the rest of the competitors.

   

The Show Begins...

Okay, with all the character backgrounds revealed and you all having your favorites, we can begin with the real deal; "Last Sim Standing" and hopefully I won't disappoint any of my followers. I will be posting the first chapter soon and will try to post at least one new chapter a week, to keep the action coming. I do have time constraits that limit me from playing long hours at a time, but when I am inspired, it doesn't take much time to put together a chapter. Thanks for understanding and look for the first chapter. 


Cristobal 

Ayasha Miakoda

Today is the first day of the Last Sim Standing competition and Ayasha is ready. The instant she arrives at the compound, she makes her way to the arena, taking in the metallic tang of blood and the mild aroma of old sweat intermingled with the clean grass. The other competitors have made their way into the compound, more interested in what lies beneath the arena than in the arena itself, but Ayasha knows it is here that her fate will be decided, here she will succeed or fail. As she wanders through the grass, headstones mark the ground where last year’s competitors lie in two neat rows beneath the soft grass a definite reminder of what is at stake. She had made a deal with her father Ukito and grandfather Kinto and one she plans on honoring whatever the cost to her.   

Thoughts of the last confrontation with her grandfather are still haunting her; lots of bitter words had been exchanged in his opulent study; the one he always used when conducting business. Ukito is a stern, honor-driven man who is very traditional in his beliefs and she has more a more modern mindset; and ambitious, like oil and water. Her father had been present also and shared the ideals of HIS father; already first in line to take over the family business when the old man says it’s time. Kinto also had spoken harsh words to her, but agreed hesitantly that she was right about one thing; modern society was changing fast and the family business needed a leader who could handle change; not a strong suit for either men in her estimation; a fact which she most loudly proclaimed.

In the end they had agreed with her assessment of the situation and promised her that they would both step aside and let her take the reins should she prove herself worthy. Ever respectful of her father and grandfather’s power and influence, she asked how such a thing could be done and they spoke plainly of her needing to be not only physically and mentally strong, but creative and brutal in overcoming obstacles that appear in her path.

It took many long nights of staring out her window at the city below or lying on the bed; soul-searching and seriously pondering the gravity of her options before she sought an audience with them once again, speaking eloquently and elaborating on her decision to enter the Last Sim Standing competition this year; confident in her skills learned at the Miakoda family dojo and utterly confident in her survival instincts to dominate the competition.

She looks out and watches as the other competitors shuffle in, gazing awestruck at the simplistic grandeur of what will be their home for the next few weeks. Seeing them for the first time, she wonders truly if she made a mistake joining this deadly competition. The five men and two other women come from all around the world and all seem to be skilled in combat, by the grace with which they move or how their eyes seem to take in their surroundings in a glance. As they go below to their new home she wonders how well she will get along with the others and if their personal agendas or goals will become obstacles for her, or become something she can use to her advantage.

She makes her way to the graves of last years’ competitors and as she walks among the solemn graves and idly wonders if she will soon be lying here beside them or if she can manage to overcome the odds and actually win this competition. Ayasha knows that she has no fear of death, and she can’t imagine a more honorable way to die than in the most arduous competition in the world. All she can do is make the attempt and hope she has what it takes, so that she doesn’t end up like these forlorn souls at her feet.

Owen Stillwell & Troy Boardman

Owen Stillwell had been a soldier since just after he had graduated high school and had once enjoyed the physical and mental challenge that came with it.  He had been stationed in Shang Simla with “the Steel Llamas”; a Riverview based infantry unit who was tasked with gathering intelligence against enemy positions.  He spent six relatively unexciting months browsing the market in his off hours and having MP duties; looking out for the drunken soldiers; making sure that didn’t do anything to bother the Chinese people. When he was put on active duty, things went well for several more months, but eventually his world crumbled around him. It started during a sweep and clear operation in the jungles, seeking out a syndicate stronghold in the jungles.

When they attacked the jungle fortress, things got chaotic and before he had realized what happened, two men that he killed were his own comrades. They had charged in unheeded into his line of fire and he couldn’t take back bullets that had already left the muzzle of his rifle. His lieutenant came quickly to investigate the source of the gunfire and discovered Owen standing over the bodies of his comrades. His court-martial had gone blessedly quick, his sentence of twenty years in the military stockade commuted after his representative Lieutenant Kimber Chase had spoken privately with the Colonel overseeing the case. His commanding officer had testified of the events of that day and the judge offered leniency in this case, since the evidence pointed to an accidental friendly-fire shooting. Owen had already spent nearly a year in the Llama Ridge detainment facility during the trial; a prison is all but name with only military staff and detainees. As punishment Owen received a dishonorable discharge from his unit and was given a warning that they would still continue investigating the case and any further criminal activity during that time would mean his twenty year sentence could be upheld and he would spend the duration in prison. He returned home to his wife and two boys and though he tried to make the marriage work, the haunting memories of that fateful day and the accusing eyes of his dead comrades plagued his dreams. He soon distanced himself from the family; so much so that his wife of fifteen years, Marnie asked for a divorce, and he signed the papers with emotion or protest.

In the months that followed, nectar became his best friend and he sank into a depression so encompassing that it threatened to swallow his life whole.  He lost his house and moved into an apartment and also sold his car and most of his possessions so he could drown his sorrows further. It was many months before the fog lifted, but when it did he contemplated his existence and life in Riverview and found it undesirable any longer. He decided to try for a clean start, packing up what clothes he had and selling most of the possessions he had left for a bus ticket to Sunset Valley and hopefully what would become a better life for him.

Since he had been limited in resources, he started looking through the Sunset Valley Gazette, hoping to find a place to live. With such a small town, only a couple options were open to him, so he called someone who had posted an ad in the paper, for rooms for rent and went by to talk with him.   

Troy Boardman was single and fancied himself a bit of a playboy with the ladies of Sunset Valley. He is charismatic and athletic, traits women seemed to like, but truthfully, he had more fun playing the field than he did seriously dating any of them, so their attention often shifted to someone else quickly. He had a nice house near the coast with plenty of room for a family, but had none.  Despite his winning personality, Troy had very few friends and none at all that he trusted for anything more than a ride home on the occasion when his car was in the shop. When Owen showed up on his doorstep and needed a place to stay, he figured it was an opportunity to perhaps make a friend and offered his home for the meager price of one hundred and fifty simoleons a month, giving him a bedroom upstairs and access to the kitchen and living room. He agreed and surprisingly, they became fast friends, often spending time together at the gym so Owen could get back to feeling more like his old self. Troy was always working in the evening leaving him the run of the house so he often spent time out of the house at the local dive bars, never looking for anything but conversation and the occasional taste of nectar. Perhaps the fact that Troy worked at night should have been a sign for him, but he was oblivious to anything but his own little world. Another sign should have been the occasional unmarked police car that would sit down the street and watch the house, but even to this Owen was oblivious, finally getting back to his emotional center with help from his new friend Troy.

Owen had even disregarded several visits from Sunset Valley’s finest as innocent chatter with neighbors, though sometimes those discussions grew heated on both sides. There were also days when Troy would get strange conversations from people whose names he never heard once and the calls were always short and shrouded in secrecy, using terms he’d never heard of before. Owen was curious, but never really got around to asking Troy the substance of those conversations or phone calls. Perhaps he should have been more curious and possibly avoided what came after.

Owen had even disregarded several visits from Sunset Valley’s finest as innocent chatter with neighbors, though sometimes those discussions grew heated on both sides. There were also days when Troy would get strange conversations from people whose names he never heard once and the calls were always short and shrouded in secrecy, using terms he’d never heard of before. Owen was curious, but never really got around to asking Troy the substance of those conversations or phone calls. Perhaps he should have been more curious and possibly avoided what came after.

The following morning, Owen was just getting ready to go out when a cruiser pulled up in the drive and the officers came to the door and thoroughly interrogated him on the front porch about his association with Troy Boardman. When he found out about Troy’s arrest, he quickly denied having anything to do with Troy’s apparent illegal activities.

The police brought their own evidence, photographs of them together at a bar, where Troy had met up with Xander Clavell, a known associate of his and finalized a deal that had been months in the making. Owen felt trapped, felt the noose tightening around his neck so he fled, attempting to leave town; but was picked up down the street and taken to the police station for booking. His flight had cemented his fate and while he was released on bail; he knew that unless his representative could pull some strings, he’d be going to a military prison for the next twenty years. He called his former commanding officer for help and Lieutenant Chase was sent to him for guidance.  

At first he was simply requesting her help, but as she refused to give into his outlandish requests, he grew angry and more determined, wanting desperately to avoid prison. She waited for his tirade to run its course before she spoke, telling him in no uncertain terms that she was sent to bring him to the Colonel, who would make the decisions on what to do.

Troy woke in his cell with a splitting headache and felt like he’d been hit by a car. Outside his cubicle, he heard the news on television, hearing how his attack on the police had resulted in his death and how he would be facing the death penalty. His only choice was to make a deal to save his life, so pled guilty on the advice of his council and beg the court for mercy. Judge Jermaine Robards is well known in Sunset Valley for his “creative sentencing” and since Troy apparently loved to fight he was given a choice, participate in the Last Sim Standing competition or get the death penalty, stating if he wins the contest, he will be only be given the twenty-five year minimum sentence for his crime. His choice is not really a choice, so he signs the contract and waits in his cell for the contest to begin.

That afternoon, Owen stood before the judge that had overseen his court-martial and wasn’t happy about it. The colonel was a fair man, and kept his word on upholding Owen’s twenty year sentence that had been hanging over his head. Kimber gave testimony; having talked to the officers involved and on her words, gave Owen a last chance for redemption. He wouldn’t be forced, but could choose to enter the Last Sim Standing competition and represent his country, or he could go away for twenty years and get out when he is old and gray. It isn’t much of a choice, but he vows to make Troy pay for dragging him into this situation.   

Saraya Marquez

Saraya Marquez was a poor teenage girl from the swamps of Twinbrook, with a head full of dreams and the drive to succeed. She had always excelled in sports through the years and that carried on after school was over and her career began. She worked part time as a clerk at the Snack and Save Supermarket and lived with her mom and sister and trained nearly every day to push her own endurance to the limits. 

At nineteen she and a young man named Antonio Valdez were chosen by the Twinbrook town council to represent the city and all of SimNation in the Olympic Games. Antonio was handsome, friendly and very charismatic and soon became the face of Twinbrook as he smiled and waved for the camera, posed for pictures with adoring female fans, reveling in the adulation and generally spending more time in front of the media then in front of the spectators competing. Saraya continued training between events, undaunted and relatively unnoticed by the media, who couldn’t seem to see past her relatively plain façade to the talent within, even after numerous interviews. She soon grew resentful at the focus on Antonio, especially when the media would ask her about him and his performances while interviewing her. She hungered for that recognition and it forged her spirit to an iron-hard core and gave her the drive to dominate in track and field, women’s wrestling and seven other events; netting her a total of six gold medals; even surpassing Antonio’s four.

Saraya returned to her warm but slightly disheveled home in Twinbrook after a tour, stopping at schools in Al-Simhara for a public relations or stadiums for giving out medals to disabled children for speed reading or wheelchair races. She tried to endure stoically, but grew even more resentful of the daily snubbing from children and adults alike; who always gravitated towards Antonio and showered him with praise and idol-worship and left her standing in the background. In her loneliness, she started talking to herself to keep her mind off the constant buzz of conversation around her, mostly about Antonio.

He was always like that, and was born blessed with a physique that needed very little training to keep him fit, she remembers many times seeing him at the gym and him spending more time schmoozing with people and trying to impress the ladies then with actually using his muscles for anything; all the while she was sweating and straining hers to the max to get into shape.

When the tour ended and she returned home, she was so relieved when she pulled up in front of her slightly disheveled, but very cozy house that she shared with her Mom and Sister. Eremina Marquez has been caring for her and her sister Patricia since their father died when Patricia was still a baby and always had pushed them hard to succeed; some of the reason Saraya had excelled in sports.

She had just arrived in the taxi and saw her mom out front, apparently taking out the trash and the woman stopped when she saw her daughter and ran over; having not seen her for over a After a long hug from her mom, she asked if everything was okay, that she seemed to be angry all the time during interviews on television. Saraya has become more reserved and deflects her by asking about Patricia. No sooner than she asked, then the girl herself appears, and seemed taller, a teenager in truth finally; having outgrown that preteen clumsiness and boyish figure.

After a short period of stunned silence at seeing her elder sister and a long tender hug, she started rambling on and on about school, her friends, a boy at school that she liked, and grew exciting over having seen her big sister on world-wide television.

Of course things got sour quickly, when Patricia started raving about Antonio’s performances, interviews and how handsome he was. She could handle this from perfect strangers, but not her own flesh and blood. What’s worse is that Patricia informs her of the parade being held in his honor at City Hall; with all the bigwigs of the town council present.

Saraya is infuriated and rightfully so; having done better than that pompous, arrogant Antonio and in more events. Also, Patricia mentioned a yearly stipend from the city going to Antonio in the sum of twenty thousand simoleons and the deed to a house in his name being filed at City Hall.

Driving across town, she confronted Crevin Small; the mayor of Twinbrook at his palatial home and adamantly demanded recognition for her efforts in the Olympics. Crevin was a life-long politician to his core and knows a sure thing for good public relations in Antonio, so just as adamantly refused to even consider giving her a small part in the parade, going on about how she should be grateful to even be chosen for the Olympics in the first place. 

Tempers flared quickly and she is only a breath away from pounding him into the dirt, so she wisely left, but instead of going home, she drove aimlessly for a while, not really knowing where she was going until she looked up. The sun had set and she climbed out of the car, walking through the gate and into the cemetery.

She needed no guidance to find what she was searching for, and in that lonely graveyard she cried for the first time in years, silently pleading for help between sobs. Her father had died when she was young, but she still remembered his deep voice giving advice when she was having trouble with a girl at school, or when Tommy Kincaid had stolen her bike. She fell asleep at the cemetery, there on her daddy’s grave.

When she woke up she glanced over at another gravestone: one for a woman who had died three years earlier, in the annual Last Sim Standing competition. She had nearly forgotten about Marta Smart; who had more fame for being dead than Antonio had alive and breathing. She talked to herself for a long while; as had become the norm until she realized that if she actually won the tournament, she’d be more famous still; far above and beyond the temporary fame of the vile Antonio.