Читать онлайн "The War for Profit Series Omnibus" - Fleisher Gideon - RuLit

The crowd cheered, roared, and applauded the more interesting kills. A clump of business executives ran to the far wall from the killing and gestured wildly for their comrades to give them a hand up so they could escape over the wall, while the business executives near them suggested they should be lifted out first. This side-show continued while the business executives vainly tried to convince the others to form their hands into stirrups to help them out over the wall.

The Mosh tried more interesting moves, caught up in the applause of the crowd. They truly wanted to put on a good show. One Mosh warrior grabbed the necks of two obese women and cracked their heads together several times until one of them burst, then put the boots to the other’s head until it split open as well. A pair of Mosh teamed up, the first one doing rolling tackles to knock civilians off their feet, the second one following along to stomp their necks to kill them.

Soon there were less than twenty civilians left alive on the field. Half a dozen Mosh kept their distance, injured in one way or another. Dislocated joints, sprains, and one seemed to have a broken leg.

The last of the civilians stood their ground. Business executives, for the most part. The Mosh set upon them individually, wrestled and grappled for a few seconds to entertain the crowd, then broke the necks of their opponents and stood and brushed themselves off. All but one. One Mosh warrior lay on the ground, his limbs contorted into impossible positions, his head turned backward. A gray-haired business executive stood over the body, raised his balled fists and looked up and let out a bellowing scream. He was the last civilian standing.

The uninjured Mosh formed up in two rows of ten and moved slowly toward the old business executive. He managed a solid kick to the face of one warrior, a vicious punch to the neck of another, was pushed to the ground and smothered by a pile of Mosh warriors who waited a full two minutes before untangling the dog pile to see if their intended victim were dead. He was. His hands were in a death grip around the throat of a Mosh warrior who had died along with him.

The surviving Mosh faced the press box.

The High Chief announced, “You have proven yourselves worthy and are granted all the rights and privileges of being my adopted sons. Your accusers acted in good faith, reporting what they perceived as cowardice. I bear them no ill will. However, from this day forward, beware any fool who accuses you of cowardice again.”

The screen shut off. The Mosh High Chief shut off the sound system and said to his son, “That didn’t go quite the way I expected.”

His son said, “Even our least worthy warriors understand the importance of teamwork. The wealthy elites, they were selfish. They believed it was beneath them to help one another. That is why five hundred of them were no match for thirty one of our least worthy warriors.”

The High Chief said, “And I have gained twenty nine sons because of it. They will fill bureaucratic offices in my lodge. All is well.”

The End

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