The steel floor quaked beneath my heels. I staggered, struggling to stay upright. A scream ripped the air in the distance. I looked towards it. A skull composed of deep violet flame dashed in my direction. Its maw was open, as if to bite down upon me. I cursed as I whipped around and sprinted away. The skull drew closer. Its heat grew ever harsher on my skin.
Barely could I avoid death. My quickest pace was a touch slower than the skull of flame. Soon, the steel under foot was cobblestone. I was now crossing a bridge of roughly hewn rock. From the black abyss around me, the crowd roared in amusement. An announcer said something, but I knew not what. The stone beneath me shook and began to crumble. Relent, the fiery skull did not. But neither did I.
In the distance before me was a skeleton wielding a spiked mace. The bony figure flailed the thing about in midair. It turned its gaze to me, its eye sockets holding fire of the same purple hue as that of the skull pursuing me. I knew stopping to meet it meant doom. It had to go. Now.
Still dashing at full speed, I raised my fist. “Begone, skeleton!” I bellowed.
My knuckles cracked into its bony cheek. Its head flew back, off the bridge and into the dark. The rest of its body collapsed into dust. I snatched the mace from the air and continued my sprint. The crowd’s cheers boomed. My eardrums could scarcely hold firm. I looked toward the skull of flame to find it gone. The mace I had in grasp had also disappeared. One word from the announcer sent the bridge tumbling down. My heart convulsed for a moment as I fell. On my backside, I plopped onto yet another sheet of steel. As I caught my breath, I stuck my hand into my pocket to check for my lucky kazoo. Her plastic frame kissed my fingertips. By Jupiter’s grace, she was still there. Praise be to Jupiter.
Vast beams of white light rained illumination down upon me and my surroundings. There, I saw the crowd, a motley horde of men and anthropomorphic beasts of every color under the sun. They sat in booths that circumscribed the empty space within which I stood. In a special box to my front was a sneering white man, seated upon an ivory throne with a wreath of golden olive branches resting atop his bald head. He and those who sat with him, perhaps his court, wore regal lorica segmentata with ornaments fit for a Caesar and his bodyguards.
The truth was bare before me. I was a gladiator in a Roman colosseum.
Behind me, the announcer spoke. “Facing our newcomer today, dear audience, is yet another piece of fresh meat. You saw him win his first, but can he win his second? Will this upstart rat boy once again prove himself, and be one step closer to earning his freedom? Ladies and gentlemen, bitches and dogs, mares and stallions, I present to you… Phrak Skinripper!”
The crowd boomed in another cheer as a man with the head and skin of a rat leapt out from a dark spot and let rip a shrill war cry, beating a fist upon its chest clad in bronze lorica squamata.
“Let’s-let’s see you beat me-me!” he shouted.
Phrak Skinripper pulled a handle from a sheath on its belt and pressed a button on it. A laser beam with a deep red hue stretched out from the handle, humming as it held a sword-like length. With his laser sword pointed at the ground, Phrak dashed toward me with a gaze that told me he would kill me without the slightest guilt.
“Young one,” said Darth Vader’s voice from a place I knew not. “Use the Force, young one. Channel your anger. Only with your hatred can you survive this day.”
Something within me knew exactly what he meant. Seething boiling rage pulsed through me as I held out an open palm and gathered upon it a ball of dark energy: a black orb with a purple glow and gold lightning zipping along its surface. Focusing every bit of my hate into the orb, I pointed it at the rat man. With a throat-rending shout, I unleashed a great beam of dark power upon the rat man. So mighty was the beam that my heels dragged across the floor as I braced against its push against me. By the power of Mars, Jupiter, the Dark Side, and my lucky kazoo, I smote Phrak Skinripper with ease.
Or so I thought. At the top of my vision, Phrak was in the air mere feet from me. He had leapt over my dark energy beam; was now nearly atop me. His red laser sliced the air toward my face. I ducked. The humming laser blade trailed above me. Phrak followed with a downward chop. I stepped to the side. As the blade burned into the steel floor, I rammed a fist into Phrak’s rat face. I swung another fist at his eye. Phrak bobbed his head sideways. The fist hit only air. Red light flashed in the corner of my vision. I strode back. Pain seized my whole left side. I grunted and shoved the Force around Phrak. As he flew backward, I groaned through gritted teeth, pressed my hand on the pain’s epicenter, and looked upon it. The skin was charred black. A bit of smoke rose from the wound’s edges.
Phrak dashed again toward me with laser sword raised high. Channeling my hatred into another black orb, I waited for Phrak to come near. Once his pinpoint pupils were in my sight, I loosed with a quick thrust a beam of black death. Phrak stepped aside. As expected. I squeezed my spare hand into a fist. The Force around Phrak coiled around his neck. He stopped in place and gasped for air. I tried again to gather more dark energy for the killing blow. My brow shot up in surprise as my hold around Phrak’s neck melted away. The choke was harder to hold than I’d thought.
No longer bound, Phrak took a couple breaths and thrusted his sword at me. I stepped beside the blade and grabbed the handle. We tugged against each other’s grips for control of the weapon. Phrak bit my arm. Blood dripped onto the floor. I kicked Phrak in the crotch. He staggered back with a pained grunt, and I took the laser sword from his hands. With the sword, I swung up across his chest. The blade charred his skin black through his lorica squamata. He screamed in pain and fell on his backside. I pressed my heel into his chest and pinned him to the ground with the laser sword pointed down at his face.
“Yield!” cried Phrak Skinripper. “I-I yield-yield, Sith.”
In accordance with knowledge I’d gained from pop fiction, I looked to the bald Caesar above, who held his thumb out sideways. A thumb pointed upward meant spare the gladiator, and one pointed downward meant kill. Or something along those lines. The Caesar slid his thumb into the rest of his fingers like a sword into a sheath. I took that to mean I should spare him, so I pressed the button on the sword handle. Once the laser blade disappeared, I tossed the handle aside and stepped away from Phrak. The crowd was cheering. I held my arms out to them, as if accepting a warm hug, and smiled wider than I remembered ever smiling. For the first time ever, I meant something. It made me cozy inside. Praise be to Jupiter, praise be to Mars, and praise be to the Dark Side.
Barely could I avoid death. My quickest pace was a touch slower than the skull of flame. Soon, the steel under foot was cobblestone. I was now crossing a bridge of roughly hewn rock. From the black abyss around me, the crowd roared in amusement. An announcer said something, but I knew not what. The stone beneath me shook and began to crumble. Relent, the fiery skull did not. But neither did I.
In the distance before me was a skeleton wielding a spiked mace. The bony figure flailed the thing about in midair. It turned its gaze to me, its eye sockets holding fire of the same purple hue as that of the skull pursuing me. I knew stopping to meet it meant doom. It had to go. Now.
Still dashing at full speed, I raised my fist. “Begone, skeleton!” I bellowed.
My knuckles cracked into its bony cheek. Its head flew back, off the bridge and into the dark. The rest of its body collapsed into dust. I snatched the mace from the air and continued my sprint. The crowd’s cheers boomed. My eardrums could scarcely hold firm. I looked toward the skull of flame to find it gone. The mace I had in grasp had also disappeared. One word from the announcer sent the bridge tumbling down. My heart convulsed for a moment as I fell. On my backside, I plopped onto yet another sheet of steel. As I caught my breath, I stuck my hand into my pocket to check for my lucky kazoo. Her plastic frame kissed my fingertips. By Jupiter’s grace, she was still there. Praise be to Jupiter.
Vast beams of white light rained illumination down upon me and my surroundings. There, I saw the crowd, a motley horde of men and anthropomorphic beasts of every color under the sun. They sat in booths that circumscribed the empty space within which I stood. In a special box to my front was a sneering white man, seated upon an ivory throne with a wreath of golden olive branches resting atop his bald head. He and those who sat with him, perhaps his court, wore regal lorica segmentata with ornaments fit for a Caesar and his bodyguards.
The truth was bare before me. I was a gladiator in a Roman colosseum.
Behind me, the announcer spoke. “Facing our newcomer today, dear audience, is yet another piece of fresh meat. You saw him win his first, but can he win his second? Will this upstart rat boy once again prove himself, and be one step closer to earning his freedom? Ladies and gentlemen, bitches and dogs, mares and stallions, I present to you… Phrak Skinripper!”
The crowd boomed in another cheer as a man with the head and skin of a rat leapt out from a dark spot and let rip a shrill war cry, beating a fist upon its chest clad in bronze lorica squamata.
“Let’s-let’s see you beat me-me!” he shouted.
Phrak Skinripper pulled a handle from a sheath on its belt and pressed a button on it. A laser beam with a deep red hue stretched out from the handle, humming as it held a sword-like length. With his laser sword pointed at the ground, Phrak dashed toward me with a gaze that told me he would kill me without the slightest guilt.
“Young one,” said Darth Vader’s voice from a place I knew not. “Use the Force, young one. Channel your anger. Only with your hatred can you survive this day.”
Something within me knew exactly what he meant. Seething boiling rage pulsed through me as I held out an open palm and gathered upon it a ball of dark energy: a black orb with a purple glow and gold lightning zipping along its surface. Focusing every bit of my hate into the orb, I pointed it at the rat man. With a throat-rending shout, I unleashed a great beam of dark power upon the rat man. So mighty was the beam that my heels dragged across the floor as I braced against its push against me. By the power of Mars, Jupiter, the Dark Side, and my lucky kazoo, I smote Phrak Skinripper with ease.
Or so I thought. At the top of my vision, Phrak was in the air mere feet from me. He had leapt over my dark energy beam; was now nearly atop me. His red laser sliced the air toward my face. I ducked. The humming laser blade trailed above me. Phrak followed with a downward chop. I stepped to the side. As the blade burned into the steel floor, I rammed a fist into Phrak’s rat face. I swung another fist at his eye. Phrak bobbed his head sideways. The fist hit only air. Red light flashed in the corner of my vision. I strode back. Pain seized my whole left side. I grunted and shoved the Force around Phrak. As he flew backward, I groaned through gritted teeth, pressed my hand on the pain’s epicenter, and looked upon it. The skin was charred black. A bit of smoke rose from the wound’s edges.
Phrak dashed again toward me with laser sword raised high. Channeling my hatred into another black orb, I waited for Phrak to come near. Once his pinpoint pupils were in my sight, I loosed with a quick thrust a beam of black death. Phrak stepped aside. As expected. I squeezed my spare hand into a fist. The Force around Phrak coiled around his neck. He stopped in place and gasped for air. I tried again to gather more dark energy for the killing blow. My brow shot up in surprise as my hold around Phrak’s neck melted away. The choke was harder to hold than I’d thought.
No longer bound, Phrak took a couple breaths and thrusted his sword at me. I stepped beside the blade and grabbed the handle. We tugged against each other’s grips for control of the weapon. Phrak bit my arm. Blood dripped onto the floor. I kicked Phrak in the crotch. He staggered back with a pained grunt, and I took the laser sword from his hands. With the sword, I swung up across his chest. The blade charred his skin black through his lorica squamata. He screamed in pain and fell on his backside. I pressed my heel into his chest and pinned him to the ground with the laser sword pointed down at his face.
“Yield!” cried Phrak Skinripper. “I-I yield-yield, Sith.”
In accordance with knowledge I’d gained from pop fiction, I looked to the bald Caesar above, who held his thumb out sideways. A thumb pointed upward meant spare the gladiator, and one pointed downward meant kill. Or something along those lines. The Caesar slid his thumb into the rest of his fingers like a sword into a sheath. I took that to mean I should spare him, so I pressed the button on the sword handle. Once the laser blade disappeared, I tossed the handle aside and stepped away from Phrak. The crowd was cheering. I held my arms out to them, as if accepting a warm hug, and smiled wider than I remembered ever smiling. For the first time ever, I meant something. It made me cozy inside. Praise be to Jupiter, praise be to Mars, and praise be to the Dark Side.
