Gladiators

Phelix

I thought i was going to die. I had accepted the fact, as my body went limp and i prepared to surrender my grip over life. The wight bore down over me like the sky had collapsed. Blood dribbled down my parched lips as they opened and retched for air. And suddenly, they got some. A thin stream of pure air flowed in. The weight didn't lessen but it stopped moving, and then my face got sprayed with gore. My nostrils wrinkled as i tasted blood and flesh. The person was thrown off me and like a flickering shadow, i got a glimpse of another person, blotting out the sun above me.

*can somebody break the rules and join my character?*

Aaron/Pyro

I gazed upon the graffiti-covered wall. Even though we were literally underground, it was huge. Organized, but still illegal, I thought silently. The worst of both worlds. He said they’d give housing if you were under contract, so I guess it’ll be tolerable.

Against a sidewall was a heavy metal door, painted the same color as the walls, covered in the same pink swear words. I walked over and pushed. A camera came to life and looked me over, the door opening as it shut off again.

I entered and let my eyes adjust to the dim light. Dark hallways that looked like twenty-third century sewer tunnels spanned off in multiple directions. I counted them. Eight. The air was nice and freezing. A bit musty and reeking of death, but nice. Someone coughed slightly behind me and I turned to face them. It was a middle-aged lady, probably in her late thirties, sitting behind a cheap desk. On it sat an ancient computer that whirred to life when she pushed a button. She looked at me expectantly.

“I’m here to fight, preferably with a contract” I said firmly. She nodded and turned to her computer.

“Name?” asked the woman. I gave it to her and she searched for my file. She grinned. “You’re supposed to be deader than dirt, kid. You sure you’re up to fighting?” I smirked, guessing she was trying to make a joke. After I filled out a form that said I’d die if I spilled, she gave me my room number and match schedule for the next day. “Go and get settled in, it’s easier to patch you up or set you for cremation when the room’s clear.”

I headed down the fifth hall, my hand scraping the wall beside me. It was fairly smooth for concrete. After passing through the winding ways for ever, I reached my room. An official came up behind me, just as I was about to enter.

“Sammy told me you were coming,” he said to me. I just stared at him. “Sammy?” he continued. “The receptionist-slash-dropout who signed you up? She told me your schedule. You must’ve seemed cute to her; these are the new rooms, lacking in habitants and blood. They’re far, far away from the hype down closer to the arena. Anyway, I’ll fill you in later. You’ve got a match right now.”






**Aimee, I’d love to get your character into the story somehow. The setting here is, as I thought anyway, an organized underground. Either Phelix or Maria could be here, I suppose.**

Achilles~~

It was hard to sleep now. After everything i'd done. Every time my eyes flickered shut I saw the red splash of blood on the concrete, or whatever the environment was at the time. With guns it wasn't so bad, but clubs, axes, they made it unbearable. Every kill, every death repeated forever in my head, their looks of horror and sudden realization that they were dead plastered forever in the backlight of my memory. So it was hard to sleep.

For a slave my house was pretty large, but spartan in appearance. There was a couch, that I was now on, a TV, a small computer on a table that was both desk and dining area, and then my bed. And all of this was in six rooms.

I pushed myself out of the couch and walked into the kitchen, flicking a switch on the stove that would give me hot water in a minute. I leaned against the counter, my eyes once again flickering, the blood flashing every so often.

BEEP. BEEP.

I woke with a start and poured the steaming water into a cup and mixed it with cocoa mix. Coffee was fine, but left me jittery, and it couldn't be taken cold if you were on a mission somewhere. I smiled, certain things never got taken out.

I raised the glass to my lips and paused. What was that? The door creaked a little and then exploded in.

I dropped reflexively behind the counter and pulled the stand of knives off behind me.

"Mattrim! Stand up where we can see you. We have no desire to fight."

I pulled the smallest knife from the block and stuck it in my belt then rose, purposefully fast, to remind them who they were dealing with. Six men stood in front of the door. Five were decked out in military gear befitting black ops. the other man was in a suit and the seal on his chest identified him as an officer of the arenas.

"Then why do you have weapons?"

"To make sure you comply. It has been made aware to us that you have been defying orders, and winning a great many matches."

I smiled grimly, "All to the enjoyment of the people."

The man smiled, but it was not funny; it was cold as death, "But repetition is bad for business, so, we bring guns. To escort you to a place where... you can be dealt with."

"And five men will stop me."

He didn't speak for a second, as if considering that statement, "You wouldn't!"

My arm flashed out, burying the knife in one mans chest. The next two were dead before they could raise their guns. The last two died just as quickly. The officer tried to run but I grabbed the blazer and pulled him down. The blood was drained from his face, fear replacing the resolve that had stood there moments before.

"Tell your agency this. Bring more men. Five for me? Thats ******* insulting."

My elbow hit his chest at a calculated speed, pushing the air out of him and leaving him passed out on the ground. I ran to my room and pulled out a bag. Three changes of clothes, a pistol with ammunition, the knife, and all the money I had went into it and then I left.

It was strange what a man could be brought to do when pushed. He could kill for a country he loved, then kill for the people he had protected in a blood sport, then he kill those same people the next day.

I suppose I can join...?

Name: Jenna, but always goes by Runner.

Fighting Name: Runner

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Birth/Ancestral Home: Southern Empire

Appearance:

-Hair color, length: Brown, to the middle of her waist, usually in a braid.

-Eye color: Black

-Height: 4 ½ feet

-Dress: She usually dresses in worn out clothes, no better than rags. She’ll take new clothes whenever she can find them, even if the new clothes are so old even the moths have given up on them. The one piece of clothing she will never ditch at a moment’s notice is an old brown jacket that had belonged to her mother.

Personality: Jumpy. She hates confined spaces, and is easily alarmed.

Likes: Open air and large, quiet places.

Dislikes: Small spaces, killing, the government, strangers.

Habits: She cannot go to sleep without making sure that where ever she is is safe about five or ten times. Even then she lies awake for ages, listening. She puts a hand on the dagger in her belt when nervous.

Preferred Weapon(s): A short dagger, a slim, long handled sword, a bow, and two fighting knives. She will use a gun, but only if she has to.

History: Runner was given the steroid very young – she was probably fifteen at the time. When she was found immune to the drug, she escaped the government ficility she was kept at, and ran for it. Instead of joining an illegal organization, Runner decided to blend in with the community. It worked for a while, but someone who was obviously bred to be an elite fighter can’t stay unnoticed for long. When the government agents came after her, she took to the hills. For the next four or five years, she had wandered alone. Sometimes she came into contact with people, and more often than not, they had been the very government agents looking for her. This brings us to where she is now, in a forest, somewhere in the Western Empire.

Up for love? Totally. But beware: the poor girl's been on her own for years, and doesn't exactly know how to interact with people anymore. Whoever tries to win her over has to be ready for some tough times and weird reactions.

Other: Runner was an experiment in breeding by the government's Elite Program. It was run by a group of scientists who wanted to build a new breed of gladiator. They wanted the best of all worlds: Speed, strength, agility, etc. The program was started very early on, before the steroid, and was continued after the drug was invented, because some scientists thought that ‘naturally’ bred gladiators would be stronger than the steroid-injected ones. However, they divided their test subjects into two groups. One would get the steroid anyway, and one would not.
Runner’s mother was built for agility, while her father was built for speed. Runner ended up a combination of the two. She was ‘scheduled to breed’ with the second generation of strength and balance before she escaped. This still gives her nightmares sometimes.

Wow. I had actually forgotten about this. And I made it up (well, helped to)! This has kind of died is deader than a doornail, but if anyone else wants to bring it back, I'm all for it. If we do bring it back, our characters will need to meet ASAP. This died for lack of interaction.

That's a pity. It seems like a very interesting story line.
It's only been out of commision for, like, what, a month and a half? That's not so bad. It would be cool if you could start it up again.

Thanks,
Kelcia

Runner

Runner was darting through the trees of the forest, one goal in mind. Escape. The voices of angry men called after her. She could hear them chasing through the undergrowth after her. She scowled. Five years on the run, and they still hadn’t given up on her? They were either very determined, or very, very stupid. She skidded to a halt in a small clearing. Which way now? They would see her tracks, wherever she went from here, because the ground in the clearing was wet from last night’s rain storm. Thinking quickly, Runner darted out of the clearing, turned as soon as she entered the undergrowth and sprang up into a tree. This wasn’t the first time her inherited agility had come in useful. Her mother’s gift had saved her many times. She silently crept from tree to tree until she was facing the opposite direction from which her footprints lead. She waited until the government agents had blundered through the clearing, found her tracks and followed them before she went on her way. She stayed in the canopy for at least a mile, often having to take long detours because of breaks in the trees. Finally she came to another clearing, far enough away that she decided it was safe to walk.

When she made camp that night, she couldn’t help feeling relieved. She had escaped the goons in suits, as she called them, many times before, but today had been a close one. She paced about the small cave she had found, checking for she hardly knew what. When, at last, she had satisfied herself in many small ways that she was safe for the moment, she lay down on her blanket, and stared at the cold stone. When she finally drifted off, it was with her fist clenched reassuringly around her dagger.

Aaron

I walked alongside the guard with an empty mind. This was such a boring life; running from society and running from your conscience, with some fits of manslaughter between sprints. The long, black walls listened for my thoughts with obsession, longing for the words of one destined to die like a reporter. I heard a gentle sobbing ahead, growing louder and more melancholic with each step I took.

We reached it, finding a girl with her forearm missing, a blood soaked bandage wrapped around the stub. The sight made me realize she was crying of pain no human should really know instead of the loss of a fight and her dignity. Even here where we were recognized even the tiniest amount more as human beings, for it was of our own choice to some, anesthesia was considered a waste of money.

She looked up at us with wide eyes that quickly regained their composure. Such a pretty face should never have been squandered on senseless murder. She spoke softly, but the words were terrifying. “We’ve been caught.”

The next ten minutes were a blur, with people running, fighting and falling dead in the halls. All I know is that I had never run so fast, in all my years of running from opponents. I didn’t want to know what they would do to me if they caught me. I didn’t want to imagine.

I ran for the surface, the city line, as far as my legs would take me. After an hour of running, constantly stopping to check behind my shoulder, I stopped at the edge of a forest. There was a cave ahead, one that looked perfectly dark and uncharted. Moss covering the sides and front made it blend in almost perfectly with the trees. I entered, gasping for air.

Runner

Runner snapped into consciousness. There were pounding footsteps and heavy panting from outside her cave. She lay quite still, listening to it. Could it be that the men were back? How could they have found her? The person entered the cave at a quick pace, sliding to the halt on the lichen-covered rock. Runner spun around and leapt to her feet, whipping the dagger out of its sheath as she did so. There was a hulking figure of a man standing outlined in the cave’s mouth. Runner sank into a crouching position, the better to come up fighting. The man looked like a gladiator, with the usual blood-stained clothes and muscled build. Runner backed away around the cave, looking for a way to either fight or escape this man.

“Get away from me,” she hissed. He blinked, as if in surprise. He had obviously not expected to find someone in the cave already.
“Get lost!” she said, preparing to spring. He began to raise his hands in the universal “now, hold on just a minute,” gesture. She attacked with a bloodcurdling screech.

Aaron

I dodged the girl's stabs repeatedly, her attacks slow from tiredness, saying the while, "Whoa, whoa, whoa--"

"Go!" she screamed even louder than before. We fought for a few minuites, a light rain starting and quickly turning into a downpour. I don't have the energy for this, I thought, sweat starting to form on my forehead. I waited for her to pause, and the moment she did, I tripped her, sat on her stomach and pressed my wrists against her neck.

"If I were here to kill you, I'd have done it while you were asleep," I said through heavy breaths as she struggled. "And if I were here to rat you out to the cops, I'd never have entered while panting like a dog. I don't want to fight."

I got up off her, gave her second to recover her breath, and thrust out my hand to her.

Runner

Runner stared at the proffered hand with distrust. What the stranger had said made sense, if nothing else. She slipped her dagger back into its sheath, but kept her hand around the pommel. She didn’t trust the man, even if he really didn’t mean her any harm. She raised an eyebrow, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“Gladiator, are you? You know how to fight, that’s for sure. Why are you here?” She said flatly.

Spoiler

Hey – did you send out PMs to the other people in the thread? If not, I can. I really don’t want this story to die! Can you tell?

Achilles~~

I ran through the crowded underground streets towards the outside of town, my breathing even, as a run was hardly a workout for me. Finally I came to a stairwell and I went up scanning the street and roof for cops. Eventually I found the wall. I let out a drawn out sigh and jumped, easily sailing over the barbed wire and landing on the palisade.

A guard rushed me but I twisted the gun, forcing the butt into his stomach and cracking several ribs, then punching him in the face so that he collapsed, dead. I slung the M4 over my back, it was probably my favorite gun which was good, and stuck the pistol in my belt. I also took his coat and pulled it over my shoulders. I don't get as cold as normal people but I still like to be comfortable.

I hopped off the edge of the wall and set off to the forest, wondering what I would do next.

Phelix:

"The blood on my sword is the blood of my enemy. They're dead now"

I sat on my bunk in the underground fighting arena. I gazed blankly forward and my hands tossed my bloodied sword to each other. I had just took another life. Another stained notch on my containment wall signified that. There were thirteen in all. Thirteen steps forward to freedom, but thirteen screams to haunt my mind.

After they administered me the drug, I felt less alive. My heart still pumped, but it did so to a different rhythm. Not to the crashing waves of my home town, or the sun beating on my back as i reeled in fish after fish. It pumped to the surge of the wild crowd, who cried for blood and thirteen times roared in pleasure as a delivered it.

I wondered how long i make it before I'll be the one headless on the arena floor. My sword sword clattered the ground as a guard rapped on my door.
"#0110, report to sector 4, arena 2." The almost robotic voice ordered. Instantly i drew my over coat and sheathed my sword. They let my keep it. They knew that the only blood down here worth taking was out on the arena.

*What the hey. I'm just going to write Aaron's dialogue for the next bit. I hope you don't mind, Tex.*

Runner

Aaron shrugged. “Yes, I’m a gladiator, or was, at any rate. The organization I was fighting for was discovered, and we had to run for it. That’s why I’m in this damp little cave, rather than some place, I don’t know, dry, for example.”

Runner raised an eyebrow.

“You were working illegally, then? Hmm. Well,” she said, rolling up her blanket. “I must be going. Now you’ve proved that this is such an inadequate hiding place, I can’t stay here. People might have heard our fight. Someone could come to see what the commotion was.” She swung her large backpack over her shoulder.

“No one will have heard anything. We’re a mile away from the nearest town, and,” Aaron was sharply cut off.

“Someone might have heard. The woods have ears, you know.” She scowled. “Come along if you like. No escaped gladiator will be safe in these parts for a long while. Here,” She said, throwing him a bottle. “You look like you’ll fall over in a minute, and if you’re going to tag along, you need to keep up.” She glared as he cautiously unscrewed the lid.

The small cave was filled with the scent of herbs when the cap came off. Aaron gave her an inquisitive glance.

“Just drink it. It’s like an energy drink, only not.” Aaron grimaced and took a cautious sip. He gagged, but persevered. In the end, he managed about two mouthfuls. Runner took the bottle of herb drink away from him at that point, handing him another one, this time filled with water. He gulped it down, grateful to get the bitter taste out of his mouth.

“Now, let’s get moving.” Runner said, peering out of the crack in the rock. She stepped outside, glanced around, and then just as quickly stepped back.

“Someone’s coming!” She snarled, glaring at Aaron, as if it was his fault.

“Who?”

“How should I know? Now shut up and get ready to pounce when he comes by.” She drew two long fighting knives. There was a look on her face and a glint in her eye that would be a warning to anyone. It said ‘no mercy.’

Aaron placed himself in front of the cave entrance. He wasn't’t sure if the girl was acting out of paranoia or experience, but he wanted to give the unsuspecting person a fighting chance. After all, it might just be someone out for a stroll. He readied himself to attack before the girl, therefore protecting whoever it was from the surprise of having a knife shoved through their neck.

Runner was glaring daggers at the man. What was he playing at? She would have gladly told him to shove off, but the stranger was too near and would surely hear them. Suddenly, without warning, Aaron leapt. Runner heard muffled ‘thud’ and some scuffling noises before dashing out of the cave herself. Aaron, who had the element of surprise, had knocked the other man to the ground, but he had quickly risen again, and the stranger had a knife. Runner slipped into the fight before blood was shed. She ducked around and behind the newcomer before putting one of her knives to his throat.

“Right,” she hissed, “you’re going to tell me two things before I decide to kill you or not. You’re going to tell me who you are and what you’re doing here. Understood?”

The man nodded slowly.

“My fighting name is Achilles,” he said. “I used to fight in a government arena in the town.”

“Not another one of you,” Runner groaned. One stray gladiator turning up was odd, and a little disconcerting, but two was more than sheer coincidence. She gathered her wits and snapped “Why are you here?” to the man.

“I had to get out.” That was all he said, but his face had gone stony. Runner thought about it. That was what she herself had thought, all those years ago. She reluctantly withdrew her knife.

“Fine. I won’t kill you, then.” She shot irritated looks at both men before marching away into the night.

Spoiler

Ridersofdamar, I put Achilles in here because it seemed to fit. Please tell me if you had other things in mind, cause I can change it, if you want. )