The Hunger Names

The future of Earth is long since here and nothing's really changed. People are poor and people are rich though not in the sense they are today. Today we are rich with money. In the future, money isn't so important any more. Nope. To be rich now, your name has to be good.
You see, everyone's name has to be different and people want the nice, pretty ones, Rosalyn or Eve.
And when you're stuck with KyraStar1 or alicegal02 , you're going to do anything to get yourself a great name.
Even if that means kill...

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2. KyraStar1

I growl and my hand swings backwards, hitting the girl square in the lipsticked mouth. I smile, cruel and vicious, and then I duck forward to deliver the final blow.

That thing doesn't know what hit her.

My hair is drooping and lanky but no one seems to care as first one clap starts and applause spreads through the entire arena. The ringmaster smiles toothily like an overgrown rat, scuttling forward to raise my hand in the air.

Everyone knew I would win.

I always do.

The girl is crumpled on the ground, ready to die. She wants to, I can see it in her sweat encrusted face. I face the ringmaster and he gives the thumbs down. I can kill her if I want, or pass on the right to someone else.

I prod her gingerly with the toe of my boot. "What's your name?"

She groans, and rolls over so she isn't facing me any more. I guess she doesn't want to see her killer. I can relate.

The rodent ringmaster's face tightens in annoyance and phew steps forward, grabbing a fistful of her pretty blonde hair and pulling her heavy head upwards. "KyraStar1 asked you a question," he leers. He's enjoying her pain. "What're you called?"

The girl's voice is little more than a croak. "Eve."

Rodent looks at me questioningly. I shake my head.

"No deal."

He gives me a look of contempt, pure evil contempt. "Well then," he hisses, his yellow teeth gleaming int he dim light, "I guess we'll have to try for a new champion then." He pushes me off the stage, laughing as I stagger, off balance.

"Who would like to fight to win this..." his lip curls, "This thing's name." He smiles nastily, saying her name in a patronising, tantalising way. "Eve."

The rest of the crowd clamour in excitement, volunteering for their possible end. Because that is what will happen to one of those picked to fight to kill Eve and earn her name and a way out of poverty. One will win, sure, and win the right to end Eve. The other will be ready to die, but people will fight for her name too, people whos names are bottom of the pile, six numbers tagged on or more. Then people will fight for that loser's name, then the next then the next.

It's just a vicious cycle really.

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