Phantom was lit up on the leaderboard, residing in fifteenth place. The top spot was taken by a competitor named Slayer, ahead of me by nine credits, followed by Fang, seven credits.
I wasn’t scheduled to enter an arena today, so I chose a drink at a bar. Roxy’s was the most popular drinking hole. I ordered a pint of Vintage Virgin, a matured O Negative, warmed to thirty-eight degrees Celsius. Perfect temperature. But it was never the same as feeding from a living, breathing body. Those glorious days were long gone, so I took what I could get.
Whether the popularity of Roxy’s was due to the paltry competition, or more to do with the entertainment, was hard to say. But the dancers – the Sizzle Sisters – likely had a lot to do with it. The semi-naked blonde slid upside down on a pole, while the brunette poured blood down her legs. It flowed over her crotch and teardrop breasts, running in rivulets down her neck and face. She licked her lips when the flow reached them.
I caught myself staring at the brothel entrance and its flashing neon girls. When my expiry date was potentially every day, I couldn’t deny the lure of warm, smooth flesh. To combat this I thought of Sara, and I looked away every time.
It was during the show that I got a sixth sense that someone was watching me, and I was right. Caught, the woman by the front entrance lost eye contact and made her exit. So I followed her, and when she noticed, she ran. The chase lasted mere minutes before I lost her in the crowd. I had no clue who she was, why she was watching me and why she fled. She might have been a watcher for an assassin, or a killer herself. Maybe she knew my name. Felt threatened by my potential to win.
As I stood beside the fountain named Ablaze of Fortune, depicting a contender burning alive, another pair of eyes were on me. Though the man didn’t look away. He watched me from above, on a suspended footbridge, no doubt waiting for an opportunity to unleash a shot of UV. Nobody misbehaved in full view, so their hostile presence clearly worked. The guard seemed to enjoy taunting me, too, blowing me kisses. He proceeded to inform me what he would like to do to me, which entailed extracting my teeth so I could suck his hard dick.
I did experience a sense of despair then; my teeth hadn’t seen flesh for almost a century. I sure missed it. It’s a part of who I am, how I was born to live and survive. Killing to stay alive, did that make me a monster?
29.6.2019
I heard there was a poisoning in the night. The victim was named Blade, ranked ninth. I wasn’t sorry for her. She was top ten calibre, therefore a threat to me and my family’s freedom. I questioned my coldness, but this was Ablaze, remember?
And each day was potentially my last. It certainly came close to being in the Industrial Age of Arena VI. Steel shutters covered the entire room of an Activation Zone. Someone knew I was in there, having locked me inside. I could practically feel his or her excitement as I edged closer towards the threshold of the Credit Activation – the bait.
My toes were inches from cremation after the first shutter opened. The second nearly took off my trailing hand. The third was nowhere close, but the fourth singed my elbow. Thankfully the last opportunity covered an alternative exit. So I took the credit, the doors unlocked, and I got out.
Access to my second Credit Activation was restricted by a riddle, during which I heard a distant death cry amid the sound of rotating cogs and chains. After two failed attempts to solve the puzzle of aligning the correct dates to past crowned emperors, I finally got what I wanted, and pushed on for another.
The command station for the Activation Zone that previously had me trapped was free and alerting a presence. The bleeps told me that someone was inside, no doubt hunting for the reset credit. I locked them in to the crowd’s approval. Five shutters out of fifteen were at my disposal, all guess work. No hit on the first. No hit on the second. Not a smouldering on the third. I sensed disheartenment for the observers, until I chose the farthest left corner, causing flames and smoke and ash to rise, followed by a rapacious cheer and the chanting of my name.
“PHANTOM! PHANTOM! PHANTOM!”
I was winning the battle – winning their affections. I wanted to hate them, every single one, but I couldn’t. Not there and then.
Back in the cell, I realised I had already become numb to the killing. I asked Vincent how he coped. He said, “They’re already dead to me. And maybe I am, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t come here to win. I came here to avoid my master. Maybe my execution.”
“Execution? How did you piss him off?”
He briefly smiled, spinning his coin between his finger and thumb. “Her. I was caught looking at her teenager daughter. She’s beautiful, in so many ways. And she’s curious about me. She told me.”
“You think about being with her?”
“I do. Every day.”
“Turning her?”
He looked uncertain. “If that’s what she wants.”
“And you think it could happen?”
“Maybe. Like I said, she’s not only cute, she’s curious.”
My initial gut feeling of his fate hadn’t changed. I felt sorry for him, in a way. And in doing so I had to remind myself that he was a competitor, therefore undeserving of my sympathy.
I had to keep myself focussed on the importance of being victor, to finally be free from my own master, who was incapable of sympathising with the likes of me. He liked to beat me. Fuck me. Share me. I carried the mental and physical scars like a badge, a lesson to myself and to others. And if I won my freedom, had the chance to take revenge, I would enjoy nothing better than to rip my master’s throat out with my bare teeth. I often imagined doing so. It helped me cope. Did that make me a monster?
1.7.2019
They say practice makes perfect. I don’t think that counted in the arenas, except I did find myself more at ease as I charged through the corridors of barrel vaults within the Romanesque setting of Arena III, hungrier than ever for a kill.
And the deaths transpired to the drums of tabors. Maybe I got lucky, or maybe they got unlucky. Either way, I made a double kill, my choice of shutters twice perfect. It’s a shame there wasn’t a greater prize for such a feat, but I was content with the credits and the crowd’s approval, chanting my name once again, louder this time, becoming a regular voice now. I had grown to appreciate it – to expect it.
With that double, and the previous kill, it meant I was the sole survivor, making for a fearless trek – for a short while. See, the makers of Ablaze don’t tolerate carefree battles. Insert the human opponent, armed with UV to hunt me down. I did my best to avoid him, since my firearm and the Activation Zones were useless.
In pursuit of my freedom, I was caught unawares and fell through a trapdoor to land on a wooden conveyer belt. Chains and cogs drove me towards light at the end of the tunnel. I poured all my energy into it, on my hands and knees, going against the flow of direction. I figured it was on a timer, that it was possible to escape. And I was right. Just. The light diminished before I was taken over the edge, thankfully with nothing more than a few grazes and dust in my throat.
I didn’t hang around for another close encounter. I made my way to the elevator, only to find him heading towards me. I quickly took a turn and waited behind a pillar, listening to his footfalls, questioning if he had seen or heard me. He hadn’t, it turned out. After making sure he was gone, I bolted for the elevator with half a minute to spare.
Eighteen credits up made me fifth, equal to the competitor named Sorcerer. Leading in first was Fang at twenty-eight, three ahead of Slayer. Clearly they both had adapted well to the ways of Ablaze. Whoever they were, they were here to win.
The scent of death was pungent that night. The ash lingered on my skin and under my nails. I considered the odour a sign of victory, and to smell it was better than to not.
Vincent continued to mutter in his own dialect, staring at the ceiling. I asked him, “What’s that you’re saying?”
“Protect me, my Lord.”
“Are y
ou afraid of death?”
“No. God had a place for me. But I’m afraid to burn alive.” He closed his eyes. “I’m also afraid of merely existing in this world, never to know what it truly feels like to live a life.”
“Yeah, I can understand that.”
“Matias, can I ask you a question, and can I have the truth?”
“Go on.”
“Would you pardon me, in the arena, if we ever meet there?”
“I would,” I said, unsure if I was lying.
“Thank you. It means a lot.”
That night, I was too restless to sleep, which proved beneficial, as I was awake when something was slipped beneath the door. I read it.
PHANTOM, YOU’VE BEEN TARGETED.
IF YOU WANT YOUR ASSASSIN’S NAME AND CELL NUMBER, MEET ME AT ROXY’S BAR - WED, AUGUST 2 - 3PM
I wasn’t surprised to be targeted, but I was surprised to be warned. If true, I wondered why they wanted to help me.
2.7.2019
I left the cell to make my appointment at the bar. While I waited to order, one of the patrons caught my eye. I thought I had seen the black man before, once in the arena, recalling that chin scar and those stern eyes. Our meeting back then was brief, and probably for the best.
He caught me looking. “Got a problem?”
“No. Only I think I know your Ablaze name.”
The man who could be Slayer downed the rest of his pint. “And?” he said, staring at me.
“And nothing. Although, have you been targeted down here?”
“We’re all targets down here.”
“Does that bother you?”
“I’m prepared.”
“How so?”
“I wouldn’t be prepared if I told you that.”
Our conversation ended there.
Not long after, a short-haired woman seated herself on my opposite side. She was young-looking, maybe what a human would consider early thirties, but she carried the wise eyes of a century’s worth of experience. A nose ring shone in her left nostril, and I was reminded of the human girl I once loved.
She leaned towards me and said, “You read my note?”
“I did. How do you know about my assassin?”
“Another source, but don’t ask who, I won’t tell you.”
“All right. But why inform me at all?”
The woman hesitated. “If I’m targeted, and you know about it, maybe you’ll offer me the same.” She looked around. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”
I followed her down into a base level corridor, dimly lit and devoid of bodies.
“Your attacker will strike later today,” she said.
“Will they now? Who, and where can I find them?”
The woman smiled. “Right here.”
She brought out a firearm from beneath her cloak. I prepared to go for the gun, but was interrupted by a fired shot. Not hers, another. She fell to the floor, throat afire, while a figure stepped out from the shadows, a good ten yards behind her.
The man who could be Slayer, wielding a shortened UV firearm, came towards me, his expression guarded.
“Why stop her?” I asked.
“She was hired. Today for you, maybe tomorrow for me. Plus, ain’t no room for cheaters down here.”
“What about up there?”
“Up there’s a whole other world. Up there you have value – a whole two credits worth.”
I was about to thank him, but he turned around and left, right before the guards came looking. I bolted the opposite way, back up to the central hall, and blended into the crowd.
Later I wondered, if I had the chance, would I kill the man who could be Slayer, just like any other, simply detach myself from his good deed for a couple of credits? Maybe that’s what he wanted, to make me hesitate a second too long in the midst of battle. Either way, I hoped not to face him up there – again. But when it came to death, rather him than me.
3.7.2019
My wannabe assassin turned out to be Python, excluded from the games in thirty-eighth place. It didn’t surprise me.
There was talk of another killing while I headed to the central hall. His name was Razer, already out of the running, which meant it was unlikely to have been a competitive kill.
I was now twelve credits behind Fang. And, after my close encounter with death, I felt hungrier than ever for the top spot, which meant taking more credits.
But before I entered the entrance tunnel, I was approached by a tall man with streaks of greying hair, wearing a sharp suit and a nice gold watch. He told me an Hispanic girl named Shadow was scheduled to enter one of the arenas. He told me if I was in battle with her, I was to ensure she never returned from the surface. When I asked him why, he told me it was personal, something she had taken from him. For that, he would give me a thousand G up-front, enough to buy a sharp suit and a nice gold watch. It seemed a win-win situation, so I agreed to his request.
As I rose to the surface, listening to the announcement of my competitors, it turned out that Shadow, ranked fourteenth, was to join me in Arena IV. The odds of that made me smile.
The Information Age soon surrounding me, illuminated by electrical power. I ran through grey slate-walled corridors, lit by embedded circular lights. I chose not to go down a set of steps, instead I tested my agility in an Activation Zone, a room containing a contraption anchored from ceiling to floor at its centre, each side fitted with operational shutters. Gaps featured in the room’s walls, for shelter, I assumed.
The device rotated, one side opening, shooting out a beam of golden deathlight. It closed. Another opened. It closed. Another opened, I understood/memorized the pattern – at least I thought I did. A beam came directly towards me. I bolted to the nearest gap in the wall, scraping through. But not fast enough. The light burned layers of skin from my forearm. I grimaced through the pain, inhaling my fleshy stench. Fuming with myself, I caught my breath, concentrating, and studied the beams again, counting each one. I went for it, obtaining the credit and got through.
Minutes later, I spotted a woman through a glass door. I followed her, wondering what she had taken from the grey-haired man to warrant her execution. Too curious to know, I shouted, “Shadow, a guy wants you dead! He told me you took something from him!”
She halted, aiming her firearm at me as I peered from around a five-inch-thick steel doorframe. “Was he tall with grey hair?”
“Yes, he was.”
“He’s my target. I’m here to assassinate him.”
“Then why are you here, in the arena?”
“I figured my freedom’s worth more than a bounty.”
Her casual flair was admirable, and she didn’t hang around to chat. She ran away. Why, I wasn’t sure, until I heard her cry out in pain amid the flash of light.
Some minutes after, when obtaining another credit by naming past victors, I saw the time. Maybe the distractions of Shadow had taken my focus. Or maybe I got too greedy. Either way, the timer was knocking on half a minute to zero, and I was lost and disorientated. My heart pounded in my chest as I desperately sought the elevator, unsure which way to go, thinking my time was up, especially when I came to a dead end. It was vital that the next turn was right. Thankfully, it was. I got out with seven seconds to spare. Seven. Never again, I told myself.
To help wind down I headed for the bar and watched the dancers writhing over each other in a shallow pit of blood. They kissed and licked and caressed, their naked bodies glistening in flamed light.
While I drank a Mature B Negative, I spotted Vincent in the crowd, watching the performers along with the drooling masses. I joined him, and he told me they did nothing for him. I was about to question his sexuality, until I remembered his master’s teenage daughter, thinking he liked them much younger, perhaps human.
Back in the cell, later that night, I asked Vincent, “Do you ever feel threatened outside the arenas?”
“Always.”
“And do you consider yourself a potential victor?”
He hesitated. “No. My name is Locus, on nine credits, taken out of the running yesterday.” He smiled. “It doesn’t matter. In fact, I’m glad. But, like I said before, I fear returning home. Not long now.”
Vincent didn’t ask for my name and ranking. I figured he assumed I was still in the hunt. And I was, sitting in third place, three credits behind Slayer, five behind Fang. But Viper was too close for comfort, a credit behind myself, and the one called Cutthroat, in fifth, remained a mere credit from equalling Viper. But being in the top four was all I needed, securing my ticket to Arena VII, days away.
And if I made the final, I would meet the emperor himself. I still didn’t know how I’d react in his presence. A traitor, a man who accepted slavery of his own kind, would be giving his sermon before I enter the arena. Thinking of Sara and Jade’s entrapment made me want to strangle him to death. But I would never ruin my chance for freedom – and the emperor knew this.
5.7.2019
My sixth entry to the surface was within Arena V, a Renaissance setting, by far the most spacious battleground yet. The crowd were in good form, calling my name, urging me on. I felt I had earned their admiration, their cries hinting to where my enemies lay in wait, the roar for a kill vastly different to a roar of tension. Or was it all a game to them, simply a chance to witness one, two, three or all four of us perish for their viewing pleasure?
After five minutes, I spotted two competitors working together by operating levers for accessing a locked room. I waited patiently around the corner, noting a three-foot green snake slither down the corridor. When they entered, I made my move and dispatched the nearest with a UV blast to the back of his neck, the other in her throat. Two kills and two Credit Activations, it didn’t get much better than that.
Ablaze In Mirth Page 2
