Into the Pit

The Punishment Pit occupies a three block by four block area on the edge of downtown Apocalypse City, right where the Parthenon Arena would be in Acropolis. The upper part is in fact an arena, large enough to seat about 20,000 people and holding a full-sized hockey rink within. No hockey gets played there; instead huge banners on the sides of the building advertise something called Power Play, which from the pictures on the banners looks like super-vs-super gladiatorial combat.

YOU: What is this, CB?

CB: It is exactly what it looks like, Nudge. Power Play is this world's bread and circuses. Low to mid-range supers are pitted in concocted games designed to test their limits, to **** if needed. The winner gains fame and accolades; the loser is publicly humiliated in a personalized manner devised by the Game Master, this world's counterpart to ****. The net effect is to weed out the stronger from the weaker supers and to give all of them training at using their powers against others.

This is natural selection, playing out before a crowd of thousands for their entertainment. The whole thing strikes you totally sick until you realize it's not that much more **** than what plays out on the streets of Acropolis City every day. That makes you shudder.

Four people, two men and two women, guard the ramp down labelled "Processing Area". The men's uniform is like the women's, except that the short skirt is replaced by crisp tight-fit dress trousers, and each carries some kind of futuristic handgun instead of a whip. They let you walk right past them and down to a set of double doors at the base.

MM: This is going too well; I don't like it.

CB: Getting in is the easy part.

The processing area is a large room with concrete walls, floor, and ceiling, lit by fluorescent tubes overhead and occupied by a dozen police officers. The room is dominated by five standing glass tubes composed of two halves that rotate to open or close the cylinder.

Heather says her lines with the voice of police experience, "We caught this one out after curfew; point the way and we'll take her down to her cell."

The police officers draw their guns and whips, pointing them at all three of you.

A sour-faced guard who looks like the guy that reamed you out in Acropolis steps forward.

"It's them all right, just like Photon said. Bring 'em down."

"I told you this was a stupid plan!"

Half a dozen rays strike you; your muscles feel like jelly and you're having trouble thinking straight. As you fall to the floor you see Heather going down and Meter Maid struggling with three whips wrapped around her. She does something that seems to stun a couple of the officers on her, but they're immediately replaced by two more. They're manhandling her in the direction of one of the tubes, eventually shoving her in and sealing it.

You're lifted to your wobbly feet and pushed unceremoniously into a tube, as is Heather.

You concentrate your power on Officer Asshole. "Let us go!"

He raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head. He takes out a remote control, presses some buttons, and in a dutiful deadpan announces, "Flensing tubes one and four."

Hundreds of tiny glowing shards of light streak through Heather's and Meter Maid's tubes. Where they touch skin nothing happens, but their clothes and equipment are sliced away and whisked upwards through the ceiling in shreds. In under a minute all three of you are stripped bare. For the first time you get a good look at Meter Maid's firm brown globes with the near-black nipples; she's got to be a D-cup, and she wears them extremely well.

Police tape appears in a ring around Meter Maid, pushing outward on the walls of the tube. You can hear the glass straining.

Asshole says, "You're not getting out, negress. Those tubes will hold Imperatrix herself for almost a minute." He presses a few more buttons and smiles wickedly. "Enjoy the games, bitches."

The bottom of the tube opens and you're sucked downward by an incredible ****. Once below floor level you lose sight of the other two.