The leader was taken next. He argued, he cursed, but he went with the dignity of a genuinely tough man. I learned his name, Maddock. I didn’t like him, but I respected the aggression.

  After the shithouse didn’t return, I assumed no one would be coming back. So when the guards returned carrying Maddock, I was surprised.

  If I wanted any answers, however, I’d have to wait. The scowling bastard looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge of metal thorns backwards, then dropped from a great height. He had a broken arm, his left eye was swollen shut, and there was a nasty wound in his chest.

  They dropped him with zero shits given to his wellbeing, and took another of the mercenaries. Another big fella with black hair, thick stubble, and a thicker Italian accent. He roared even more loudly than Maddock, but it was all bluster. He wasn’t half as hard as their leader. You learned to spot the signs after years of violence. Maddock was furious—this fella was shitting himself and trying to mask it with big words and a louder voice.

  The medic, Nick, had rushed over to Maddock and started fussing with him.

  “Not as bad as I first thought,” he said, inspecting the wound on his chest first.”

  “They did something to me after I won the fight,” Maddock groaned. “Dunno what it was, but it stopped me dying.”

  “Fight?” Nick said, barely listening as he tenderly probed the broken arm.

  But I was listening. Mainly for information, but he had also said my favorite word of all. Fight!

  “They took me to an arena. Made me battle an alien to the death.” He broke into a fit of hacking coughs which ended in him spitting out blood. “Some little skinny bastard with sharp claws. He moved faster than anyone has any right too. Jumped about like a grasshopper on speed. Couldn’t land a blow on him.”

  “How did you win, then?” an average-sized man asked. He had a ratty ponytail, and a scar around his neck that spoke of a failed hanging attempt at some point in his past.

  Maddock was in pain, and didn’t answer. Understandable, all things considered, but I reckoned there was more to it. We had to wait a few long seconds while he balanced out his ragged breaths.

  The answer wasn’t worth waiting for. “I played dead. Waited for the little shit to get close, then attacked.”

  “That worked?” the same man asked.

  “Of course it fucking worked. I’m back here, aren’t I? Lucky thing too. The announcer almost called it. My opponent was dancing about in victory and came too close. I managed to grab one of his scrawny legs and break it. Then I pulled him to the floor and finished him off. Ground and pound.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  There was a round of approving grunts from the others. I lay back disappointed. I was happy to use any tactic to win, that much was true, but I wasn’t interested in hearing about someone playing dead.

  Instead, I dozed and tried to recover as much strength as I could before my time came.

  I was only vaguely aware of the comings and goings, but before long, only Maddock, Nick, and myself were left in the cell. I beckoned Nick over. It was his turn next, then mine, so this was my last chance if I needed any help.

  He came over with a strained smile on his face. “Yeah, Earl?”

  “Can I borrow some bandages? I need to strap my leg up a little more if I’m gonna be able to walk.”

  “You gonna give me them back afterwards, huh?” he said it with so little humor that I didn’t think it qualified as a joke.

  “I am. As long as you survive.”

  He laughed at that. “I think you’d need to survive too, Earl, and with your leg in the condition it’s in, I don’t think that’s a promise you can make.”

  “It’s not a promise. It’s a fact.”

  For some reason, the light seemed to fade from his eyes at my words. His doubt didn’t affect me, especially once he pulled out the bandages.

  “I’ll rework them for you. Where’s the pain or weakness most affecting you?”

  I put my hand out. “Nah. I’ll do it myself. I’ve propped myself up more than once.”

  He was so preoccupied with his impending doom that he handed the two rolls over without much trouble.

  When the guards came for Nick, they didn’t return with the scar neck, ponytail merc. Which meant so far that only Maddock had survived his fight as far as I knew.

  As Nick was led away from the cell, he looked back at Maddock. They really seemed to respect the asshole. Maddock, on the other hand, rolled away to face the wall, making it clear that he had nothing to say either.

  That was good. His ignorance was my gain, and I still had a job to do. Trying to stay as quiet as possible, I tied the knife to the back of my left hand with some of the bandage. When my hand was held normally, there was no sign of the blade. When I clench my fist, about a quarter inch cut through the bandage, past my knuckles.

  Once it was set in place, I carefully clawed my way up to a standing position. It would have been hard enough using both hands, but I only had my right available with the knife bound.

  After a minute of curses and struggling, I made it up. Back against the cell wall, I took a moment find my balance. Maddock still hadn’t looked over, which was good. I hated people watching me. What I did was nobody’s business.

  And what I had to do was strap my leg up and stop the flex of movement. Last thing I needed was for it to open back up. I stretched out my arms, feeling weak but glad I was back up and ready for when the clomping feet returned.

  When they did, they carried Nick with them. That was a surprise. I honestly didn’t think he’d have it in him.

  As his battered body was thrown in like a sweaty t-shirt in the laundry, the guard closest pointed at me. “You next.”

  My instincts screamed to kill them both. My instincts were like that. What little sense I had suggested the opponent I was about to face was probably weaker than these two and less likely to earn me a death penalty. So, against my instincts, I let them lead me out of the cell without trouble.

  We walked through a complex of stone hallways for way longer than I was happy with. My leg was burning like hell, and the exertion of limping along with it was tiring me out. The relief I felt when we approached a set of huge double doors that brought our journey to an end was immense. No more walking, just waiting and fighting.

  I could hear the low hum of conversation beyond, and basked in the sound and the light that streamed in through the cracks around the door.

  A grin tugged at my lips as the doors slowly opened. It turned into a full smile as I took in my huge, bare-chested opponent across a muddy circle.

  It was time to kill.