Rules... Rules were made to be broken.

A Triathalon was three stage race. You run, you bike, you swim. No breaks, just break neck speeds. This what I'd been training for my entire life. The Olympics. The stage is set, a world stage, and you only have one shot at it. But only time will tell if you were good enough. And that was it really. It was all about time.

The best time.

The fastest time.

The quickest time.

The finish line.

If you consider how many participants in the race. You'd think maybe a dozen. But in reality well. I've been racing against everyone. But the funny thing is we are all heading in the same direction. It doesn't stop us from trying to budge out the competition. Juice better, train harder, run faster, cycle stronger or swim quicker. My coach was my brother, my best friend and my confidant. And he only had one real lesson to impart to me, about it all.

In the end it doesn't matter. Your finish line placement. Your world breaking time. Even if it were to hold throughout eternity. It eventually loses meaning and relevance. But you'd wonder then.

Why race...

Well it is for that exact reason. It was for this moment. This spectacle. This time. My time.

Weither I shine here or not, weither I achieve my goals. Weither it counts that I couldn't sleep last night or that I was nervous as all hell about taking to the running block. It all doesn't matter. Because I was going to give it my all. My shot. My best shot.

Sweat was beading down the side of my shaved head. Into my eyelashes as I blinked it away. The blur of the salty droplet obscured the vision of the stadium. All around me were spectators. Other runners, walkers, bikers, or swimmers. People who'd been a week ago going places now stood still and sat before the best in the world. To watch as we tried to take on these three challenges.

A test of stamina, grace and efficiency. It was about form and function. We weren't synchronized swimmers or breakers. We were a different breed of athlete.

As I heard the call that set the stage. I took my position. I was on the outside lane. Furthest to the front. Some would say I was the leader of the pack but the inside lane was my preferred position. But like I mentioned earlier, none of that mattered here. It was fair game. As far as the rules allowed.

I slipped the hunter's knife into the sheath at my ankle. Beside me the Japanese athlete held to a bat. Some chose more accurate weapons. Americans with a pistol. Russian strapped with an AK.

You see. This race wasn't all about speed. It was about survival. The crowd around us cheered and jeered. Beer bottles were thrown onto the track shattering and sprinkling glass caltrops before us. I put on my swimming goggles to at least protect my eyes and wrapped a shawl around my mouth.

The referee picked up his snub nose and brought it into the air. We all took our stance forward and arched are backs in unison. The calm before the storm, this is what it felt like. And as the shot was fired into the air - even as the blast continued to reverberate in the arena - I knew then and there. I had to win. I needed to win. It's all that mattered.

I sprinted off the line. Behind me the Russian kneeled down and pulled his AK off his back into his readied hands and sprayed a flurry of whizzing bullets at the men and women taking off of the line. The Ukrainian runner was hit but he continued to run. His own Famas in hand, he wildly sprayed backwards with a loose left hand behind him. He caught an audience member in the crowd thru the eye at the exclamation of nearby spectators who ducked instinctively behind one another.

The Russian swore under his breath and picked himself up to trail at the back of the line.

I was making good time as I made the first lap around the bend. Adrenaline coursing through every fibre of my being. Fear, excitement and dedication fueled me on. I had to win the race, I had to win the race.

I made it underneath the columns of the arena and the shade was welcome respite from the scorching sun. I could then and only then feel the sharp pain from glass shards barely piercing into my feet through my Nike sponsored shoes. I'd hardly noticed it at the break.

Thoughts of the past lingered in my mind. How I used to watch the Olympics on the television. A novel thing that. It was about the competition then. And it was also about peace, prosperity, union of nations and the pursuit of perfection. Now, well, nowadays it was about the prize at the end of the line. The country with the most medals was awarded respite from the harshness of this dying world. A ticket for every passport holder to the Mars Colonization Program for Organized Logistical Operations aka MARCO POLO.

Run and operated by Olympic Committee. Don't ask me how this all came about because honestly, it was a fucking mess. Nukes, fallout, never ending wars, famine, plagues and pestilence was rampant throughout my youth. And somehow, the duty to determine earth's last survivors was decided by 'friendly' competitions.

My contribution to the Canadian effort was crucial. And my brother, bless his soul, wasn't going to allow anything to stop our country from being the last nation to make it to Mars. During the strife that had a stranglehold on the world. Only Switzerland had the necessary funds and personnel to create the Endeavour. The first colonization ship. It had all the amenities and the necessary technology for long space travel. And soon to follow were many european countries as well as some asian countries such as India and the Philippines.

Smaller more well established surviving nations like Brunei were also able to make copy cat clones of the colonization ship. And that was the very ship my kinsmen wanted me to hitch a ride on. The Last Bastion.

And as I made it out beneath the sun once again I saw my bicycle. An old beat up trek. It's front brakes still worked, back brakes were worn and its seat was a little loose but that was fine. I saddled up and took out my riding gloves from the back of my biker's shorts just in time to see the Jap make a swing for my head. I ducked beneath it. Peddled with one foot and pushed back with my left to drive my bike out of his reach. Slipping on my gloves, I proceeded to jet on.

The wind rushing by my face. My shaved head made me an easy target to hit from behind, but I kept a low profile. Holding the center post of my arms bars and continued to make a good pace for the rest of the racers to follow. The trail was mostly downhill as it made it's way to the marina. And as I was just about to think I was in the clear. When I heard something in the distance that rattled my senses. The sound of a revving engine. I glanced back over my shoulder. And I could just barely make out the kawasaki motorcycle.

Somehow the jap managed to sneak one into the race. Not like anyone really enforced any real rules here, but still.

"BAKA!" He yelled back at me as he wheelied his own bike. Gunshots were heard in the distance behind me, but I dared not look.

Without thinking I cut down a side path of the winding roads and bunny hopped over a curb into a small villa. The cobble streets made my shocks bounce and crackle with its efforts to absorb the bumps. But it didn't do much to stop the rattling of my teeth as a continued to cut through the town. The streets were empty here, but not for long. The race was broadcasted and the spectators just as much as the competitors were looking for a ticket out of the hell hole that had become Earth.

Soon a gang of Taiwanese fans came bursting out of a gated field, riding in an old Toyota van. A sliding door was opened exposing a man holding to a para mounted with a camera tripod of all things. He let loose a hail of bullets that made a bursting stream of dirt and muck that spurted from the ground like mini fountains. I ducked and squeezed on my brakes, making a sharp turn through an alleyway. Cutting of line of sight as continued to pedal my way through what I had thought were abandoned streets. A group of street urchins threw garbage at me as I passed. My guess local French denizens. There wasn't much left of France. They didn't even have an official olympic team this year. Yet for some reason they had won the inaugural vote. Something about a hundredth year anniversary.

2124. There didn't seem anything really special about it. Other than the whole, my country is looking to me and my team to get us all off this dying rock.

I burst through the alleway. The sun shining brightly against my goggles as I listen intently to see if I'd lost the Taiwanese fans. Only to see a biker ahead of me. She turned to the sound of the squeaking of my bike and I coulda swore I saw her swear under her breath. She didn't seem to be armed but had a walkie talkie strapped to a belt at her waist. She brought it to her lips and spoke fervently into it.

"Shit... that can't be a good sign." I muttered under my breadth. Not even a second later. I could make out the distant sound of a motorized van. The Taiwanese girl took advantage of my panic to cut back onto the path leading to the marina. I knew if I did, the open road would spell my doom. So I got off my bike a snuck into a nearby building to hide.

The van revved passed at breakneck speeds just as the Japanese motorbiker came into a turn. He noticed the Taiwanese fans and turned heavily into them. I couldn't believe my eyes. The Jap revved his engine playing chicken with the van. The two of them closing in on one another at 100 miles per hour. The Jap braked and leaned sliding his bike right alongside the van as it too turned keeling on the edges of its tire as it slowly, it seemed, to tumble into a very quick and destructive roll. Body parts flew around it in a spray of complete disaster mixed with metal and glass. The sound was horrifyingly loud like rolling thunder as if it was just inches from your face were the lightning had struck. The Jap smirked and picked up his bat making his way after the Taiwanese racer.

Without even thinking, I went back to my own bike picked it up and made to follow. I was ages behind as I pedaled with all my might. The motorcyclist was closing in on the girl who was focused on the downhill ride taking the winding turns with ease. She was a professional for sure, but it wasn't until last minute that she regretted training too hard to focus on the race and not on the speeding bike coming right behind her. She heard him last second and screamed as he raised his bat. Timing it perfectly, he swung down. And the sound of metal against bone, well... you can never unhear something like that. She tumbled off her bike, careening to the side in a bloody mess.

The motorcyclist was a fiend tho. He stopped a few paces away. Only then noticing me coming down the trail behind him. He pulled out a luger of all things and pointed it at me. And I can feel the catch in my throat as I braced for the shot. A loud bang.

Then silence.

I could hear again slowly as the 50 cal ringing stopped from reverberating in the sky. The japanese athlete lay headless beside his motorbike. His luger sprawled a few feet from his splayed hand and his bat no more than an inch away from where his head was.

Breathing once again, I made my way to the Taiwanese girl. I could hear cycling behind me as a handful of the other racers came zooming by. The wounded Ukrainian leading the pact completely ignored us. While a North Korean and a Chinese man and an American woman shot at each other fevrently down the road. Missing while trying to bike at the same time. The North Korean was grazed and nearly fell right beside us , but he continued on.

I knelt by the girl. Luckily she had worn a helmet but it had caved in and cracked where the blow had struck her. Fuck if I knew first aid I thought as I examined her wound. There was blood trickling down from where she'd been hit but it was matted with her long black hair. Her features were gaunt and she was very skinny for an athlete. More a runner than a biker, I thought as I tried to gently remove her helmet.

I was a dead man, I knew. Any Canadian back home would understand my sentiment, but this wasn't a normal race. Rules here didn't apply and well there was only one real rule. Make it past the finish line first or don't make it at all. But I'd be damned to hell if I chose that route.

I unravelled the shawl around my face and made a quick bandage around her head to at least stem some of the bleeding. I could see her chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. So at least she was still breathing I thought. I looked around. An empty road, grass fields between and a forest line were the town had been hidden behind and the house that I had witnessed it all transpire.

She said something in Taiwanese then. I couldn't understand. But I smiled.

"Hey, hey your going to be alright." I tried to comfort her, but as her eyes slowly opened up. She seem to take in everything all at once. She reached behind her and brought out the walkie talkie before I could even try to block the blow. The corner of the radio hit me upside the head. Making me reel a bit as I fell back. I brought up my hands in my defense and prepared for the next blow. But instead.

All I could hear was her say something terse and storm off to her bike.

"Yo, wait you're really hurt..." I protested as she got on her bike wobbly at first then looked at me with a curious expression. "You want to race together?" I asked.

"Stupid American..." She replied as she looked back to the marina. Her accent so thick I could barely make that out. "Let's go..."

I smiled and strapped my helmet on as we both raced down the remainder of the hill. At the bottom was the bodies of the Chine, Korean and two Americans. The bodies riddled with bullet wounds. The Russian's bike was there and the Ukrainian's as well. All the other competitors had not made it. In the distance was the last part of the race. Across the Seine river beneath what was left of the Alexandre III bridge.

"I don't see them." I yelled out as she dove into the water after removing her shorts. I struggled to do the same. 1500 meters to the finish line. The way back wasn't necessary anymore because most believed only a few would even make it this far. Which for the most part, they were right.

As I dove into the water, I could hear the gurgling of the river in my ears as I swam. Her pace was ludicrous but I managed to somehow keep up. It wasn't long before we could make sight of the athletes ahead of us. The Russian, Ukrainian and a German who had somehow sneaked past. The were closely matched up to each other. But about 750 meters ahead.

The Taiwanese girl was determined to catch up. But I could feel my leg cramping. I began to panic a bit as I struggled to keep pace. The burning pain radiating from the back of my right leg down to the soles of my feet.

"Ahh.." I yelled out as I finally gave in to the pain while trying to stay afloat. My head bobbing underneath the surface. "Help!" I yelled out as I made a gulp of river water and spat it out furiously as I rose again. I was disoriented now and the light was failing around me. Dusk had fallen before I had even noticed. The current drove me down again as I fought to try to stay afloat despite the seized leg. Water barely being kept at bay as I panicked. Holding my breath for dear life.

And just as I was about to give in I felt hands slip beneath my arms dragging me up. As I looked up. I could see rays of light filter through the water. It was heavenly and I wondered if I would make it. The sound of crashing waves and hurried Taiwanese voice met me as I looked up at the sky. I was being dragged along for how long I wasn't sure.

When we got to the shore, I could hear sobbing. It brought me out of my reverie as I turned to see her laying upon her thigh keeping her body upright with one arm.

"Don't give up," I sputter through laboured breaths as I meant to rise. My own leg giving out beneath me. She looked at me through tear filled eyes and pointed at the road ahead. We could both hear cheering. The race had ended someone had won. We both had lost. In defeat, I laid on my back. Regrets waving over me and disgust with myself. Why'd I stopped to help her, I started to scold my own conscience. When an arm lifted me up off the ground. For a skinny girl, she was pretty strong, I thought as I looked at her. She wasn't looking at me and her eyes were covered by her long bangs. Her ponytail had come undone when she'd taken off her swimmers cap. And all I can see was a regretful smile on her face.

We hobbled together toward the finish line. An uproarious cheer was being sounded as we made it up the hill to the crest. At the top, lay the bodies of the German and Russian. Several large screens were still displaying the end of the race as we made it past the revellers corner where the race would've began the last leg.

On the screen the Ukrainian was fighting with the Russian athlete. Barefisted brawling. When the German suddenly came from the side wielding a section of the metal fence. He bashed it against the Russian's side and the two of them began to tossle, leaving the Ukrainian free. He bolted, bleeding and bruised towards the finish line.

The crowd yelled out in elation. As the Ukrainian made it across. Missing a tooth and a good deal of blood, he collapsed.

We turned from the screen as we continued to hobble past the pit stop.

The German athlete was there leaning against a downed watering table. Blood pouring from his mouth. He smiled as we passed. But he'd been stabbed in the gut. And made no move to rise.

Arm in arm. The two countries made there way to the podium. A triumphant Ukrainian won gold. A Canadian taking bronze and a Taiwanese with the silver.

The ceremony was solemn as they were handed out their medals. Many intent on seeing how the results of the other competitions would play out.

"Thanks, for bringing me across the line." I tried to say to her while fighting back tears as I saw my brother come up to me. He had a sniper rifle strapped to his back and a very disappointed and angry look on his face.

She meekly smiled back and shrugged.

We were royally fucked. But I guess there was nothing we could do now, but make the most of what we had left.

Later they'd learn that the Ukrainian didn't make it that night. And that his gold would be the determining medal saving their country.