Sabotage

She crept in while the others were still out and about. The room wasn’t locked, but that wasn’t a surprise. Most of the others weren’t either. Hell, some of them had even left their doors open. That’s how she’d found this one, in fact.

She suspected the reason for that was pretty simple; they were stuck here. What did they have that was worth stealing in the first place? Where would you even go with it? What needs did they have anyway? Everything was provided to them. And besides, they were all getting pretty chummy now. That ridiculous drinking game was proof enough of how complacent they were.

Well, if she pulled this off, she suspected that friendly spirit wouldn’t last long.

The question was whether or not she could find what she was looking for. They were all drifting back toward their rooms now, and that left her very little time to search. Every contestant had been away, which meant no one would be around to question what she was doing there, or why she was so close to quarters that weren’t her own. At least, nobody would if she was quick about it.

Luckily, it didn’t take her long to find what she was after. The room’s occupant clearly hadn’t spent much time here. Suitcases were thrown down haphazardly, but nothing had even been opened or disturbed, which made it very easy to locate conspicuous items.

The conspicuous item she wanted was in the introductory pack all the contestants had been issued. It contained a map of the grounds, a copy of the rules, some introductory reading material on the island and its facilities, among other important documents. She found it resting on the bed.

She breezed past the Monopoly money cards that were used to add or deduct bonus and victory points. Very little she could do with that, and even less that she would have wanted to.

No, what _she_ wanted lay nestled in a foam mold next to it; a slim, silvery looking ray gun the contestants had been given for the challenge they’d soon be partaking in. She withdrew it very, very carefully, so as not to disturb anything else in the pack.

She looked over her shoulder and listened hard. The room may have been left wide open, but that didn’t mean she’d have a good explanation for being here if she got caught. And getting caught could lead to very dire consequences. Not dire enough that taking the risk wasn’t worth it. But caution was of the essence. She hadn’t even shut the door behind her when she’d come in, for fear that the returning occupant might return and suspect something.

Luckily, nobody seemed to be coming.

As she gripped the gun, and placed her finger on the trigger, she felt it connect directly to her mind. It probed it for the transformation she’d unleash on anyone in front of its business end. She also knew enough about how it was supposed to work that, had anyone been there, she’d learn quite a bit about the potential target before she chose to transform them. Of course there was no one here for it to target, anymore than she had a transformation in mind for it to coalesce on. So for the moment, that capability remained a theoretical one.

She looked for something to shoot. The shots were allegedly prone to ricochet (and why not, for what were misfires if not chances for drama?) and decided that the pillow was as good a place to unload as any. She pressed the muzzle against it, and had to stifle a laugh as she thought of how she must look like an absurd parody of a mob hitman from the movies.

Then she fired. Once. Twice. Three times. The gun let out a little chirp and a flash of pink light that brightened the pillow from within each time she pulled the trigger. Just as the guns’ manuals had promised, they didn’t work on inanimate objects or even animals, so nothing was harmed, and nothing was changed.

But changing wasn’t the point of the exercise. Sabotage was. When this unlucky contestant went to complete her assignment, she’d get nothing but the empty little plastic click of a child’s toy. And that’s really all this was now; a child’s representation of an alien ray gun with no more power or ability than any other plastic piece of shit they pumped out of Taiwan.

Most importantly, it couldn’t be used to complete their challenge, and the contestant would be screwed when she tried.

Maybe the showrunners would decide to invalidate the result out of pity or fairness, and decide her victim needed a new gun and a second chance. Or maybe they would decide that the panic and mistrust this would inevitably lead to among the contestants would make for drama too juicy to pass up. She hoped it was the latter, and that her actions would result in an easy elimination from an overcrowded field, as well as some exploitable drama and chaos in an overcrowded field.

But either way, she’d shot her shot; literally and figuratively.

Gently, she placed the gun back where she’d retrieved it. And gently, she pushed the suitcase roughly back to the position in which she’d found it on the bed. Then she walked to the door, did a quick scan of the hallway, and walked away from the scene of the crime.