After the Apocalypse
In case the Mayans are right...
STRATEGY: “The Hawaiians know the island better than I do, so they will be hard to beat. I would need to trap them. I would leave some footprints on purpose to make them think they were on my trail. We all need to drink water, so I would find a river and base a camp above it, so I could see those who come to drink, and when they do—BAM! The Spartan will get them.”
LIKELY RESULT: While searching for mangos near his stream, Michel spots a curious man—bald, fit, with the gait of a predator. He is wearing a strange set of headphones, and holding a black, glowing orb. As the man turns toward him, Michel draws his knife. It is none other than Robert Kelly Slater. Michel pauses. He’s been told countless times by World Tour competitors never to look into Slater’s beautiful eyes. But Slater’s smile disarms him—it reminds Michel of simpler times, before all the bloodshed began.
Kelly speaks softly. “I love you, man.” Then Slater presses a button on his glowing orb, and Michel’s eardrums burst with a deafening pop. The Spartan falls to the ground, writhing in pain, unable to tell up from down.
Kelly doesn’t want to kill anyone. He walks slowly toward the Spartan, pity in his heart. Then Slater remembers the time Bourez humiliated him in a heat in France in ’07 as a wildcard, ending Kelly’s title hopes. The Champ’s eyes go black, like those of a shark. He calmly severs the Spartan’s jugular with the Tahitian’s own knife.