Through the Ghost

As soon as he entered the preparation room he was bombarded with cries of anguish from beaten combatants. Beneath that could detect the faint ringing of a flat-lining heartbeat. Memories of snapping limbs and having his own body broken filled his mind. He felt the calming buzz Allie administered to counter his rising nerves, but the memories refused to fade.

The floor was slick with blood of varying colors, as if someone spilt a barrel of paints. Making his way towards the back of the room, he passed by a human on a stretcher; two attendants cared for the mangled soul. The kid was no older than he was when he began fighting in the pits. The boy’s chest was bruised a purple, deep gashes pumped blood from his stomach while he whimpered into the medical attendant’s ear. His left arm had been torn clean from its socket, though they’d managed to stem the bleeding in that region. Both legs were broken to the point that even the best medical attention would make walking again a struggle.

Suddenly, the boy’s body began to shake. The medics valiantly tried to hold him down long enough to apply the bandages. The whine of the heart rate monitor returned as the boy’s remaining limbs went slack.

Tal turned away to see a pale faced Braden standing behind him.

“Hells, man. How did you survive this?” the bounty hunter inquired.

“By not being the one on the operating table,” he replied.

That had been the hardest part, knowing that making friends would be pointless as you’d eventually be forced to face each other, or be saved that agony as someone else crippled or killed them. When he came to Orothros he’d retained that hesitation, but over time it’d been Reis that had broken down that wall and helped him not feel so alone.

As he stopped before the back entrance into the ring to remove his clothes. He handed Braden his jacket, shirt, and pants, then donned the bloodstained, green shorts. The guard at the entry gave him a quick glance, then nodded him through.

His heart rate increased with each step upwards. Flashbacks of the fear and anxiety threatened to consume him. Through the closed hatch, he could hear the announcer riling up the crowd. The door opened, bright lights shined down onto him. Cheers and boos pelted him from all sides. Then the music started, and everyone stopped. A steady, drumming beat that seemed to keep pace with his own heart took over. It drummed faster, and faster. Another hatch slid open on the other side of the ring. Out crawled the largest Viashano he’d ever seen.

It was easily double his height. Deep scars decorated the brute’s light-brown torso. Its crocodilian jaw let out a resounding roar that brought the crowd to an instant frenzy.

Running analysis, Allie informed him.

Trog looked at him, scars covered the alien’s face as the hint of what could only be referred to as an attempt at smiling twisted its features into a more menacing countenance. The two combatants stared down each other while the crowd continued to cheer at the pending showdown.

With each focused breath Tal took, the noise faded to the background.

Records indicate he sustained recent injuries to his left leg and right eye.

He nodded in understanding.

Then, with a mighty roar Trog sprinted towards him, spittle flying from its open maw. A scaled claw swiped down, Tal dipped beneath it to strike his adversary in the back. Unfazed, the Viashano back handed him across the ring. He smacked into the kinetic barrier. His breath caught momentarily upon hitting the floor, but recovered just in time to avoid getting skewered by Trog’s six inch claws.

He climbed to his feet, ducked another blow, and kicked at its wounded leg. The alien howled in rage, swiping out with its claws as it searched for the operative. Tal faded around to his opponent’s bad eye, striking it across the face. Before Trog could recover Tal threw his arms around the alien’s neck in an attempt to compress its throat. His muscles strained against the thick neck. Clawed hands cut into his flesh as it struggled to break free. The pain brought a flash of memories; the snapping of bones, cries of anguish, and taste of blood.

The Viashano bucked him off, grabbed him in one arm and threw him across the ring once more. Its steps thundered towards him. Faces of his past opponents flashed through his head. Then he felt it, a fire buried deep within. A bloodlust he’d thought long quelled. Trog towered over him, raising its arms in a show of dominance.

A sudden surge of adrenaline shot through him to evade the crushing blow. Revitalized, he charged towards his opponent with renewed fervor, sliding just between the alien’s legs. With a vicious kick, Tal strikes Trog once more in the back of his left leg. This time the alien dropped to the mat. The massive reptile hissed. Tal took advantage of the situation, hitting his opponent over, and over; his fists became bruised and bloodied with each punch.

Trog lashed out, serrated teeth snapped inches away from Tal’s face. Tal reared back but quickly resumed his attack. There was a pop as his fist connected with Trog’s eye. Trog whimpered in pain, it attempted to fight back only to hit air as Tal had already moved behind him. The old bloodlust took hold, he was no longer an operative of Orothros but a desperate fighter eager to survive one more day. Tal pried open Trog’s snout, his fingers bled as they grasped the brute’s teeth.

Tal stop! Allie called out. You have defeated him. You do not want to do this.

But he couldn’t hear her, in his head he was back in the ring fighting for survival. There was no Artificial Companion to offer advice, no Orothros partner to watch his back, it all felt like a distant memory. His muscles strained against the powerful tendons in Trog’s jaw. Then suddenly he stops, his muscles tense up and he’s incapable of progressing forward with the killing blow.

You are not one of them anymore. Think about Chara. Do you want her to see you as they do?

He looked up to see the stunned crowd, human and alien alike stared at him with fear. None were cheering, nobody made any noise.

He felt his senses return, the red vision faded. His own fear dissipated, and he releases his opponent. Trog slumped to the ground, heavy breaths exhaled from both combatants. There was no victorious cheer from the announcer, or fanfare music. Tal simply turned around and walked towards the gate where two guards stood shell-shocked at the sight they witnessed. Without a word, they opened the door and Tal walked down the steps to a hastily parting crowd. He grabbed his clothes from Braden’s nearby hands, and walked towards the exit. As he left he spotted Bella Clarke following him with an amused gaze.