2
Dawn broke over the horizon as Gray, Lothe and Scott were led out with the other prisoners into a giant arena, a colosseum, where cheering people surrounded them. Anarchists, thought Scott. He imagined what would happen if Cleaver were in this position, no, Cleaver would never have gotten into such a mess; he would’ve killed everyone in sight until he was free. Scott could imagine his friend wielding his blades and decapitating guards and Anarchists. On the wall of the arena was a small arsenal of weapons, maces, daggers, crossbows, axes, swords, that sort of thing. A cruel-looking man stood on a platform, presiding over this event, a leering grin on his face.
He cleared his throat. “Citizens of Hell’s Gate, every year we celebrate Gaming Season with the Trials. We take those who dare trespass, people who threaten our freedom, our way of life. We throw them in here to fight for their freedom, for their lives, just as we did. The sole survivor will leave the arena and will be celebrated with a feast. There are no rules. Just chaos, just,” he paused for effect. “Anarchy!” The crowd cheered wildly, hooting and whistling like animals.
“Do what you have to do to get out,” Gray whispered into Scott’s ears. “Don’t hesitate and don’t regret.” Scott nodded though his hands were shaking and his heart ricocheted off his chest.
“On the count of three, retrieve your chosen weapons and begin.”
“One,” counted the crowd. “Two...Three!” the prisoners all bolted for the weapons, scratching and clawing at each other in order to get their choice. Scott was small, so he slipped through easily, reaching knives and a small poison dart shooter. Up on the platform, Ari watched him with apprehension knotting her stomach. She leaned in to her father’s ear.
“Look at him, he’s so young. He’s probably the same age as me, are you going to let him die?”
“He won’t die,” her father assured her.
“Really?” a glimmer of hope flickered in her heart; maybe her father would stop this, maybe...maybe...
“He won’t die, if, he can fight.” Ari sighed and returned to her seat, feeling disgusted with her own, animalistic people.
Scott dodged through the attacks; since he was small he wasn’t much of a threat. The others were fighting the bigger targets, eliminating the hard ones first. Gray already stood over a man’s corpse and was fighting a man with scars all over his arms. Scott watched them in awe as one by one they fell in a mess of blood and gore. They fell one by one to a roar of cheering. Death was celebrated everywhere Scott went. Agonising screams filled the air, sending Scott back to that dungeon in the Underground. His mind resurfaced when he realised that Lothe was standing before him, an axe at the ready. The crowd was cheering, bloodthirsty, their appetite for death insatiable.
“I hoped I would not be the one to kill you, child,” Lothe sighed. “But I have to get away from here. But I have a family to return to. And you, kid, I can see that you have nothing.”
“You only hope that I have nothing,” Scott corrected. “That way you can justify killing me.”
“Shut up and fight,” Lothe growled. Then his eyes widened and glazed over. He fell in a heap, a longsword sticking out of his back and Gray standing behind him.
“Rule numero uno; don’t turn your back on an enemy. You’d think a Titan would know that.”
“I don’t want to kill you Gray.”
“You’re going to have to if you want to live.”
“So you’re just going to let me kill you?”
“No, I have no intention of just letting you kill me. If I don’t fight back and you kill me, they kill you, if I barely fight yet still kill you, I die. This has to be a fair fight,” Gray said, pulling his sword from Lothe’s corpse with sickening ease. “It’s all or nothing Scott.”
“Hey, you called me Scott. Only my friends call me Scott and you said we weren’t going to be friends.”
“Well,” shrugged Gray, a grin creeping across his pale face. “I’m allowed to change my mind.” And with that, he lunged forth, stabbing his sword at Scott who managed to dodge it just in time. He ran forth, ducking under a swing of the sword and he cut along Gray’s calf, not enough to kill him, but it would hurt like hell and he’d be slower. “Good move.”
“I try,” Scott said as he cut Gray’s other leg. Gray growled in pain and swung at Scott, cutting his shoulder. The arena was silent in anticipation; no one had suspected that the young boy had any skill. Scott followed the strike to the leg with another one up Gray’s arms. Then another and another. He avoided the sword while managing to place small, painful cuts all over Gray’s flesh. Gray’s sword managed to skim down Scott’s arms, opening a gash that began to bleed, but Scott didn’t slow down. He lunged forward with all the speed he could muster and dragged the knife along Gray’s stomach in an excruciating but non-lethal blow. Gray fell to the ground. The legend fell. Scott stood above him, looking at him in awe and horror. Gray was invincible, that was considered fact and Scott felt like a monster for tarnishing that reputation. He dropped to his knees beside his mentor.
“Finish it,” Gray breathed.
“No, we can fix it,” Scott shook his head. “With some ointment and some bandages...”
“No Scott, please, just kill me.” In that moment, something dawned on Scott.
“You want this, don’t you? You still let me win. You want to die.”
“I can’t live this life anymore Scott,” Gray said, this eyes misting over. “I take lives because I know nothing else. I never had a choice. I don’t want to kill anymore, I never did. They train you not to regret a thing. They teach you how to stop caring. But they didn’t teach me well enough, and I don’t think they taught you well enough either. You have no idea what it’s like to have killed as many people as I have and to regret every last one. I still see all those faces every night when I close my eyes. I want it finished Scott. And I want you to do it.”
“No Gray. If I kill you, then I’ll become just like you. I don’t want to kill anyone and if I kill you, I’m not sure I’d have any other choice. Don’t make me do this.” Gray grabbed Scott’s hand, forcing him to grip the knife, and then he pulled the tip of the blade to where his heart was.
“You won’t be just like me Scott. Because you’re the new and improved version, the latest model, top of the line and all that. You have more strength than I do. You have more willpower than I could ever have. Please just stab my heart and let a cursed soul die.”
“I will not!” Scott yelled, wrenching his hand from Gray’s grip and throwing it away. “I will not let you give up! No mentor of mine will be a coward!” Scott tore off a bit of cloth from the shirt of a nearby corpse. He wrapped it swiftly around Gray’s more serious wounds and then he got to his feet to address the silent crowd, who had no doubt heard every word. “I will not kill him. I refuse. I am young, and I have alot to learn and alot to experience. But I know that this is not an experience I want. I know that killing this man would serve no purpose but to end his still young life and to ruin my own, which has not been long enough to be even called a life. I don’t care whether you kill me. Because I will not fight back, I will not kill. I would not even bring death to someone who begged me for it. Do with me what you will, just don’t ask me to kill someone.” There was a deafening silence and Scott waited with bated breath for the crowd’s response. Then there was a sudden racket of boos and shouts. People were screaming for Scott’s death. But he didn’t care; he’d accepted his fate the night before. He knew he was going to die; he just didn’t want to take Gray with him.
“Stop!” called a voice and everyone fell silent once more. Scott turned to see a beautiful girl standing on the platform. She had golden, wavy hair and eyes the colour of emeralds, her skin was like porcelain and her full lips the colour of a rose. “Do not touch him! He will not kill you but I will not hesitate to strike any of you down!”
“Ari, calm down,” said the cruel man, though his face softened as he spoke to the girl.
“Do not touch him!” she repeated to the man.
“Alright, what is it you want darling?” he asked, rubbing his temples gingerly.
“I want you to let them go, both of them.’
“Arianne, you know I can’t do that, only Peter can release them and he had other business to attend to.”
“Then let them live until he returns from the front,” she suggested. “I’ll deal with them personally and I shall take care of them should either try any funny stuff.”
“I don’t know Arianne...”
“Daddy please.”
“Alright, fine. But kill them if they make the wrong move,” the man said to boos from the audience.
Down in the arena, after hearing that he and Gray were safe, at least for now, Scott heaved a sigh of relief and then fainted.
Smokey Merlot was torturing a captured Anarchist when one of his men entered the chamber with a message. According to his spies in Hell’s Gate; both Gray and Scotch had survived the Trials. Smokey swore and slammed a knife into the heart of his victim – the moron didn’t have any good information anyway – and ran a hand through his hair. It had been such a good plan. He had sent them both there to see who would emerge victorious, who the better assassin was but they’d both survived. Oh well, those two were never meant to survive in one another’s company. One would die sooner or later. But what if he was wrong? What if something had gone wrong in the experiment? Smokey wanted a super assassin that he could control, not two that banded together and did whatever the hell they wanted. Fuck. Smokey needed to talk to Hunt, the slimy, sweaty and cruel-minded politician; a man after Smokey’s own heart.
He left the lower levels of the Stadt Wahrheit, barely able to revel in the screams of his prisoners. He was having a bad day, and when Smokey Merlot was having a bad day, heads were going to roll.
Smokey entered the tunnel, hoping to take a presidential shuttle to Angel City. He stepped into his shuttle, massaging his head. Life was stressful, death was even more so if you were dealing in it. A Death Dealer, that’s what he was. If he wanted you dead, by god you were going to die. Smokey lay back as the shuttle skyrocketed to the surface. It took him about ten minutes to reach the Angel City terminal. He didn’t need to show any identification. His name was like an all-access pass. He took a luxury car to the House of Order, where Hunt’s office was located on the second highest floor. The top floor was only used when the Council was in session. The elevator to the floor was playing an annoyingly catchy tune and Smokey found himself humming along. The elevator chimed and slid open and Smokey burst into Hunt’s office without bothering to consult Cynthia. He didn’t like Cynthia; she was attractive but eager to please. Chances were she’d done the dirty deed with Hunt and Smokey didn’t like being attracted to someone else’s leftovers. Hunt was sitting at his desk, working on a mountain of paperwork.
“Hunt! You fucked up royally!” Hunt almost wet himself, which would’ve usually delighted Smokey but he was not in a good mood.
“What did I do Merlot?”
“You said that Macabre and Scotch would be unable to resist killing one another! That was the plan. Create two super soldiers but to only allow the better to win! But they’re both alive! Your scientists did something wrong!”
“No, we did things perfectly. You must’ve trained them wrong. You must have treated one or the other differently. The experiment called for them to be treated exactly the same!”
“There’s always room for differences, they’re not the same person.”
“No?” Hunt said. There was a glint in his eyes. “Are you so sure about that? Haven’t you noticed how they look almost exactly alike? Same face, hair and eyes?”
“No way,” Smokey chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t?”
“Yep,” nodded Hunt. “Gray and Scott are clones, they’re exactly the same.”
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