The Royal Gladiator

Ch. 1


The sweat on Cain's head sprayed off only half as fast as the blood. The lock jaw punch that Smog, the wild bore alien the size of a rhino, rocked Cain. The blurred vision developing in his eyes made it hard to see the next four hits that cracked, cut, and overall bashed Cain badly. Though his entire head was wrapped with tattered bindings, you could still see the blood spreading within the cloth.

Another tough knuckle uppercut forced Cain's teeth to pierce his tongue. After a moment of tasting the red liquid, Smog gave Cain a powerful kick to the shin that put him on one knee. Following the new position of Cain's face, a tremendous knee from Smog landed on Cain's teeth and launched him back. The landing on the shard-like rock floor didn't help Cain's recover. In fact, it was Cain's anger that helped him up.

The anger...

Cain had a past... he just didn't know what that was. His agony was shifting into a rage. Once on his feet, Cain was on the verge of receiving impact from Smog's charge, when suddenly Cain smashed a hardcore elbow that knocked his opponent off balance. Smog was introduced to Cain's iron studded knuckle bracers. Brutal hooks made their way to Smog's warts, snout, and rugged cheeks. Cain could feel the hog's cartilage being reduced to rubble. Suddenly, Cain put Smog on the ground by gripping him on the ears and ramming his forehead on Smog's.

Cain took the opportunity to get on Smog and begin throwing down a birage of fists. The bore's blood gushed and splattered about with every punch, leaving only a mangled face. Eventually Cain needed to stop to catch his breath. He took a good look and saw the damage on that poor bore's face. Cain felt empathy, not for the cuts and wounds, but for the pain.

The pain...

Cain hadn't noticed the cheering from the crowd. The winning bell rang and allowed Cain to leave. He got up and walked out with the remaining thought of Smog's face being pulverized. The thought was shaken off. Cain went throught the halls and into the empty locker room. It was full in the morning but gladitors always felt the need to kill their opponents. The motion granted gladiators an additional hundred plates, but Cain only took half since he never really felt like killing anyone. It was a weakness Cain hated though he accepted it. It wasn't a big deal unless Cain felt like he was losing.

He removed his armor slowly. The bruises on his stomach and ribs made it difficult when negotiating his movement. He groaned in pain as he took off his dirty shirt. Eventually, he removed it whole and wiped off the rest of his sweat. It was the binds, however, that Cain didn't remove. He always remained anonymous as much as possible.

Cain didn't bother putting on a shirt, but instead put on a thin jacket and pulled on the hood. He put his armor and bracers in a bag and walked out into the night. People outside were barely entering the arena buying admission. Cain would love to entertain them, but he wasn't a part of late night main events. He wasn't a regular, rather the guy who tried to get any fight for scrap plates.

The walk to the transit was tiring, but it did give Cain the time to think. He thought about his unofficial career. Awhile ago Cain accepted the opportunity from a low rate alleyman. That guy was the man who paid Cain whenever he won a match. They were expected to meet up soon. The timing was right because Cain wanted to travel off world and the only thing he needed was the plates to get out. Everyone knew that buying a traveling ticket was expensive. Renting a small orbital ship was much cheaper.

Cain made it to the transit. He sat down inside and tried to relax. The exhaustion of taking a beating took it's toll. It was after Cain closed his eyes that he received a nudge. He opened his eyes and saw it was his alleyman, Benny. The low life addict sat next to Cain.

"You got my money?" asked Cain.

"Here you go," said Benny handing Cain a casing.

Cain opened it and saw there was a problem with the plates within.

"What?"

"This ain't the deal we made."

"It's a little light, but it still fits the worth."

"I won the match. This ain't even enough to pay for a no-death fight."

Benny chuckled as he took out a cigarette.

"Hey, I'm serious. I almost got killed in there."

"What do you want? The pay is pay. Titan ain't paying for no fist fighter that only gets the job half done. People are looking for the fights that really end things. Fights that have even deeper cuts."

"I ain't goin' back to armed fighting."

"Oh come on. Your the Reaper. Everyone used to love you."

"Not everyone loved me, Benny. I wouldn't be here if they did."

"Listen." Benny lit his cigarette and took a puff. "You were good. Real good. No one could take you. Everything was coming to you; the plates, the fame, everything. What happened."

Cain just kept his head down.

"I don't know, maybe it's the helmet that made you a killer. Where is it anyway?"

"I ain't fightin' armed, Benny."

The train stopped. Benny got up and took another puff of his cigarette.

"Well," he said. "We're gonna keep cutting pay on no-death fights. Just want to let you know, killing pays more."

Cain kept his head down as Benny left. The alleyman was right. Cain wasn't gonna get off the planet without a big number on plates, and the only way to get that was doing what he used to do. He had to go back to using his old gladiator name, Reaper.


Ch. 2


Emily did this to herself. She spent all of her ship's hull jump build on her voyage through Site's longest route, the Fallas Speedway. Emily felt guilty putting her baby, the Blue Queen, through such a muscle. The pressure transfer mechanism was junk now and the generators were barely functioning off the last supply of slammed fuel. Emily hated not trusting her instinct. I'm so stupid, she thought.

But Emily knew it wasn't good to start blaming herself now. She took a deep breath and calmed down. The only thing she could do was check everything all over again. Emily turned her flashlight on and took another look inside the main pressure access panel. The oxygen stabilizer was running pretty well since she obviously wasn't suffocating or feeling dizzy. The power circuits weren't damaged and they weren't intersecting with anything else. Finally, the water lines were mostly sealed with no signs of leaks. Emily removed her head to wipe her sweat with a rag, relieved that there wasn't anymore critical damage.

It was a good thing the water lines were fine; Emily needed a decent shower to get rid off all the oil she had smeared on her face and arms. She screwed the panel back on the wall and went to put her tool box back on her workbench. As she began organizing her materials, she began thinking of the book she's been reading lately. It was a love story about a slave girl purchased by a prince.

The prince buys the slave girl on good intentions, but the slave feels that the prince is another man looking to buy pleasure. The slave insists on having a life of servitude and shows years of back breaking work while the prince attempts to get her to stop. He trys asking, ordering, begging, and even threatening. Eventually, he offers the slave her freedom in exchange for her never to step foot in the prince's home. It was a twist Emily didn't expect, but maybe once she finished the book it'll probably have a good ending.

After putting the flashlight back in the drawer, Emily went for the bathroom. Just as she was going through the hall the galactic communicator rang. Emily used one of her wall touch pads to check who was calling her, but after seeing that it had no caller ID she simply put it on the ship wide speaker.

"Detective," said Emily with a sarcastic remark of happiness as she continued to the bathroom.

"It's good to see your answering my calls today," answered Detective Jacobs. "Ms. Dawn."

"I was busy," Emily said removing her mucked up clothes. "Don't you have other work to do?"

"Hunting criminals at large is my occupation, Ms. Dawn."

"Knock off the friendly salesman crap."

"Tell me where Russell is residing."

"I told you a million times, I don't know where he is." Emily entered the shower and turned on some hot water.

"Then it would seem my grammar is more than required to collect specific answers. For instance, my superiors believe the information you supplied regarding a Mr. Felix Garcia is irrelevant as his record seemed to be of no connection to Russell or threat to any government and attachments. What would be your say in this matter?"

"I think the agency should stop trying to bother me."

"Your statement is admirable, but I need an answer that would actually help."

"How about, go to hell?" Emily washed her long ears.

"Ms. Dawn, you have been cooperative so far as you've shared valuable knowledge of the one code named, the Horrific. I understand it wouldn't seem prudent to ask further of you, but the law demands we seek results with our targets."

Emily washed her long black hair.

"Ms. Dawn?"

"I have no further information, Detective Jacobs. I'll call you if I have something."

A small pause was taken before the Detective said, "Thank you for your time, Ms. Dawn." The communicator hung up.

That part..., thought Emily. I don't want to remember that part of my life. Not now. not ever. She rinsed her body from her face down as the water doused her. The warm water was relaxing.

Then another call came in. Emily voice activated the communicator to accept the call.

"Hey, Emily," said George. Emily's small fury coworker chuckled a bit. "You wouldn't believe how much product we've got to move today."

"Let me guess... a lot?"

"Hell, it's a milestone but you know the two best convoy specialists from the Galvatron Company can surely handle even this." George was up on his drunk confidence again. "Dina's gonna have to pay us a mighty fine bunch of plates for this job, hell yeah she is!" George laughed and coughed a bit.

"Stop smoking, George. I'll see you in a little while." Emily hung up and turned off the shower to dry herself.

She thought, maybe today would be different. I really need a change after all that stuff with Russell. God damn it, Russell. Why couldn't you change? Emily used a towel to ruffle her hair nearly dry. Change... was it really better?


Emily sat down in the pilot's chair and flipped on her ship's engines. Before flying off she started up ship diagnostics. The computer reviewed the ship's damage and came up with the same review Emily had. The only thing that could hold the ship together was a shield defense system, but having one usually meant you used it to avoid cannon fire in an illegal way. Emily knew that if she got her ship under a flight check from a local protection department, it would show up on Jacobs's site and give him another reason to ask questions. Just because a shield was suspicious, it doesn't mean the protection departments should search and report on the Blue Queen! But Emily wasn't getting to work without one.

She made for the nearest space port in Derivative Sector, New Fortress. The port was only a few meters away, but Emily made sure not to land anywhere near it to avoid some personal dilemmas. The temporary docking station was good enough, buy before she flew in, the port command gave their usual verbal entry procedure.

"Attention, Blue Queen," said Fortress Command via radio. "You are entering the occupied premises of the Aquarius Fleet. Upload flight history, illness reports, and any damages if you wish to dock."

"Wait, I was wondering if you have a spare part center," said Emily entering her information.

"We have every piece and tool needed to repair or upgrade up to the average vessel. Oh... yes, your upload and check is complete. Please dock on landing zone four."

Emily complied and slowly maneuvered the Queen down onto the pad. She flipped off the engines, sparked up the temperature regulator, and used her lower power oxygen recovery system to suck up the air supply in the port for the ship's reserves. It was so much cheaper to suck up free air.

Then came a couple of "representatives" from the Aquarius Fleet. Emily guessed this had to do with the record behind Emily's ship.

"Ms. Dawn, is it?" asked the Junior representative of New Fortress. "Our data indicates that your ship has been involved in a number of illegal activity. The charges go as follows: smuggling, raids, orbital assault, black market trade, kidnapping, and resisting the authorities."

"All these charges have been dropped ever since the Comet Bureau turned over ownership of this ship to me."

"Perhaps, but we just finished collecting information from a Detective Jacobs who has just finished reopening a case that fully promotes these charges."

The Senior representative standing next to him signaled with his hand and out marched troops surrounding Emily.

"In light of recent events, Ms. Dawn, I believe it would be in your best interest to follow us so we may negotiate some terms... and finally bring an end to the Bureau's investigation."

Emily twitched anger. Jacobs was nothing but a heartless bastard who only cared about his job. Emily swore that he would pay for this. She just wondered what she had to do to clear her name... or at least what was left of it.


Ch. 3


Cain got to his secret hatch hidden under the sand. He opened it to go down an abandoned pipeline. It led to a small maintenance room that Cain used as his home. Inside, he had a small bed that was only a stack of blankets, a couple of rocks with knots tied around them to become weights, and a large trunk in the corner. The long day made Cain remove his jacket and allow his bruises to get some air. He went to his trunk and opened it for some thread and needle within.

The bindings on Cain's head were removed. He looked at the mirror attached to the trunk lid. That image, the face Cain has been looking at for seven years now, seemed foreign.

Cain never knew how he looked like as a child... it sort of haunted him. Every time he looked at that dusty, old mirror Cain only saw a crazed killer. The reflection showed a damaged boy with short, messy, blond hair and a dirty beard. Of course, his battered forehead didn't make the sight anymore decent. Cain angled the mirror and pointed it at his ear. He used the thread and needle to close the cut on the side of his head. Obviously with no anesthetic it hurt like hell, but it was necessary.

After sealing the stitching, Cain noticed the rest of his things in the trunk. His old sword, his light armor, and above all, his helmet. Nothing was more valuable to him than that helmet. The skull-like head wear was the big reason why he was called Reaper. But the greatest significance of that helmet was that it was part of the oldest memory Cain had when he first "awoke". Cain was a little less than a teen, and the only thing Cain had on him was his clothes and that helmet, along with an escape pod he happened to be in at the time. He's been living on the streets with fighting being a source of income.

Fighting...

Killing...

Reaper wasn't known to many. The ones who knew him as Reaper were dead, or dying. The name didn't go farther than the gladiator business and that was a good thing. So maybe going back for at least one fight wasn't a bad idea. Cain sighed as he picked up the helmet.

"You can't keep doin' this to me," he said to the helmet.

Was it worth it? Was any of this worth it? Cain looked at the mirror once more. He was becoming a man. He didn't want to live the rest of his life on this planet. He couldn't keep doing this to himself.


The next day, Reaper was riding the transit. His head was down, he had his hands together, and he took slow breaths. He kept to himself until he noticed a boy staring at him. The kid was small and wore attered clothing that looked like hand-me-downs due to their size. The kid's mother was smoking very closely near the window in a foolish attempt to dispense the smoke. Reaper didn't really know whether to feel pity for the kid's life, or depression from the lack of even having a mom.

The transit stopped, and in went Benny. He had a smug face on while he sat down next to Reaper.Reaper