“It’s for you!”

Two hundred seventy-nine.

“It’s for you!”

Two hundred and eighty.

“It’s for-” There was a horrifying screeching as the doll’s sound system was ripped out by a thick mechanical claw.

“Hahaaaaa! I win again! Suck it, Tom!” came the call from the other side of the parking deck.

“No fair!” was the protest from the skinny and bespectacled teenager, whose bright pink mohawk clashed with the tattered brown of his outfit.

“What?” The distant figure gestured mockingly. “Ain’t my fault you keep pickin’ zommin’ VI dolls for joyriding. What’s the matter, I wreck daddy’s little sexpot?”

“N’uh,” the mohawked teen announced defiantly, fumbling his controller, “no fair for you!”

The doll wriggled slightly, then catapulted itself off a destroyed car and effortlessly rolled through the air, elbow-slamming the miniature makeshift robotic tank, which collapsed into a sparking heap. The doll’s arms were almost beyond repair now.

The distant figure wailed. “No FAIR! You always win, big brother!”