Chattering Monkeys

Orpheus · Joined: 20 Apr 2007 Posts: 250

((I'm only posting it here so I have some feeling of accomplishment and because I don't know where to go after this))

“Gentlemen, you have seen your options and what they are capable of,” boomed a man’s voice with all the guile and sophistication of an English nobleman. In fact, he was English, but lacked any title of nobility. Instead he feigned noble heritage by flaunting his vast sums of money, which was roughly enough to buy all of London – many times over. He acquired is wealth through the many corporations he acquired through family, and some of which he established himself. It was sort of a corporate version of old wealth. A man of his stature wasn’t required to do any work of his own and, for the most part, had no understanding of what his companies did. It was precisely for that reason why he found himself with enough time and money to arrange such a meeting as this. All around him were a hundred of the richest men in the world, men whom had enough money to have already bought anything they could ever want and still have billions left over. And what do men do when they have billions of dollars and nothing to spend it on? They gamble.

“Now, before we begin the betting,” the Englishman continued, “are there any questions?” Behind him a projector displayed a slideshow of pictures of soldiers and concept designs of military weaponry. The images, which dwarfed the speaker, were the primary source of luminosity.

The auditorium was dark, providing a great deal of anonymity to all the guests. A man near the back stood up. All that could be seen was the dim red fire in his cigar. “I have a question!” he yelled with a heavy Spanish accent, as if trying to prove his importance by the volume of his voice. What he didn’t know was that each seat had a microphone in front of it, making yelling completely unnecessary. After recovering from the initial shock at hearing his own voice bellowing like a train, he continued, “How can we be sure there is no cheating?” Senor Ortega was probably the poorest among his peers, and it is likely he sensed this, because for the first time in his life he felt the need to be frugal with his money.

The Englishman on the stage responded, “What’s the matter, Senor Ortega. Isn’t your drug running bringing in enough money?” Several men in the room laughed. Senor Ortega wasn’t one of them. “I’ve explained this before, but it appears I need to repeat myself. There are hundreds of thousands of cameras monitoring every square foot of the skirmish grounds. Every street, every building, every room, every person can be viewed at any time. You can even watch a young woman take a shower while you wait for the excitement to begin. Believe me when I tell you, Senor Ortega, if there were to be any questionable activities going on, you would be the first to know.” There was a patronizing note at the end, as if he were talking to a child. Senor Ortega sat down.

“Well, if there are no further questions, let’s continue.” The Englishman understood many in his audience were weary. They hadn’t any time to rest before the meeting began, and he had already been talking for hours. It was finally time to get down to the important business. “Aside from the main contenders, there will be many other factors to bet on. For example, the length of time the skirmish will last, the total area affected by the combat, number of militant casualties, number of civilian casualties, et cetera. For the civilian casualties, please keep in mind that the estimated population of the initial combat zone is approximately one point two million. You can change your bets at any time, with a substantial penalty of course. Remember, my name is Sir William Grisham and I’ll be your host for the days to come. Come to me if you have any further questions. Now if you’ll please enter your bets on the touch screen monitors in front of you, we’ll begin.”

As he was leaving the stage, the screen behind him began to fade into blackness. The images continued scrolling. The last image displayed before the screen completely shut off was of a woman with matted hair and wild eyes. Her skin was blotchy and sagging, and she was eating a man.

Mechanical Bunny · Site Admin Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 223

Ewwww. Lol. I like it so far! The next scene would include the relationships they had to each other, for instance, perhaps alliances forming or heated discussion or something. To try to further establish the plot and start some intrigue.

Otherwise, you may just want to cut straight to the action and explain things in the heat of battle. Up to you.