Chapter 8: A Dream and a Reality

After Ayasha’s unsubstantiated “escape” and subsequent confrontation, the frustrated Lainee decides she is going to nip all these little things that bother her in the bud. She was told what assets and resources she would have at her disposal when the corporate sponsors had first recruited her as overseer for this years’ competition. 

Finding somewhere out of the way in the arena isn’t a problem and she calls her direct supervisor; the liaison that works directly for those sponsors and makes her desires known.





Unbeknownst to her, Owen happened by and overhears her side of the phone conversation and goes off quickly to tell someone what he heard. The first one of his compatriots he finds is Rowena and she is in the dining room, having just finished her lunch of macaroni and cheese.

“She is sending for the enforcer!” He says in a harsh whisper. Rowena’s eyes go wide at hearing it, though really she isn’t that surprised. The enforcers are almost a yearly happening in the arena for the competition and even knowing that sends chills up her spine, mostly because they have never been called so early in a competition. “I wonder which one it will be, Katie or Lionel?” She asks aloud, knowing that one of them has been present every year so far but one. It is Owen’s turn to shudder, though not from knowing the enforcer is coming, but what they physically ARE.



Owen and Rowena are in the courtyard when the enforcer arrives and Rowena breathes in sharply in surprise. “That’s Katie… err K4T13!” She says with just a touch of awe and dread. Both enforcers are simbots and each has a different personality and their own mannerisms. The other droid L10N3L is firm and unyielding in purpose, but kind with an easy manner that many find likable.

K4T13 on the other hand is almost the polar opposite from L10N3L, and is likely the most notorious simbot in the known world. Last year, she physically manhandled three of the contestants when taking them to the cell; when it was only necessary on one of the three occasions. She is hot-tempered and rude and is probably universally hated by everyone. It is announced that she is here to monitor the arena grounds and assure the “strict adherence” to the rules of the competition by all competitors. Owen shudders, having seen one or two up close, but still has the queasy feeling in his stomach from having something so unnatural standing that close to him. Some of the others are sleeping, having had a rough couple of days and still mourning the loss of Blaze.



Below the goings-on in the courtyard, Simon is in the barracks, sleeping soundly from the trials of the past couple days and from exhaustion. He is dreaming, and it is one that is bittersweet, reflecting the greatest happiness in his life and at the same time, one of his greatest regrets. He has had this dream often since he arrived here; more often than he has in a long while.





His earliest memories of Shara Hightower were from when they were in primary school together, sitting next to each other in Ms. Prichard's class. They had become friends when he offered to help her with her homework and they often spent almost every waking moment together since they lived across the street from each other. 

They went to the park, walked to school together and always had supper together, whether he was at her house or she was at his for his mom Ophelia’s famous (in the neighborhood) chicken casserole. As they got older, they rode bikes all around town, went to the museum and library together and watched almost every movie that came to the theater.







As they got older and went through those particularly tough preteen years of angst and hormones together, they soon found themselves exploring each other in new and exciting ways, holding hands, kissing and even a little heavy petting when they were alone together. Shara believed that her father Jordan liked Simon from knowing him all these years and watching him grow up, but they were still respectful in not flaunting their new-found relationship with each other. They spent time in parks, the movie theater or anywhere other than their houses; generally only returning because the youth curfew kept them from staying out all night.

During their junior year of high school, things became a little more serious between them, with Shara becoming his first real “girlfriend”; like you see in movies and they did everything together and he often treated her with flowers or small gifts from the store in town with what little pocket money he saved by tutoring kids in his class. He got a part-time job at the bookstore and began saving his money for what he believed would be an escalation of their relationship, perhaps he would even propose to her after they both graduated high school.





Those memories were the sweet part and it took but one day for it all to turn against him. It was but two weeks before their impending graduation and her father Jordan called him and asked that he come by for a little chat. He thought nothing of it, since the man has always been tolerant of him, but something was different when he crossed the street, seeing the man standing on his porch. His face was calm, but his voice could have frozen water at a 100 feet.

“You are going to stop seeing Shara… this has gone on long enough.” He said simply, in a tone that was meant to stop any opposition in its tracks. Simon spluttered to find words for what he was hearing, but couldn’t even begin to wonder what he had done to deserve this. Hadn’t he treated Shara with respect as his mother taught him, treated Mr. Hightower with the respect he deserves? “She is going to college to become a doctor or lawyer and I won’t allow a nerdy little punk to take that away from her.” Simon took a step back. “Yes sir, she is, we were planning on going to college together. “ He replied weakly, though Jordan didn’t seem to hear him, or if he did, paid him no mind. “Nope, not going to happen, I have already enrolled her at Simarus Academy for their summer internship, she will get a head start on most other students. You being near her will give her unnecessary distractions. I know you will do what is right here…” He trailed of threateningly.



“Shouldn’t that be up her, what about what she wants?” He demanded angrily, more than willing to fight for what he thought was right. “She told me last month that she decided to attend the Art Institute of Simhaven University and they have great business management program I wanted to take, so I can start my own company.” Jordan simply stared at him impassively through his tirade and when he had nothing left to say Jordan spoke up. 

“It’s already done and she has promised to accede to my wishes. You are no good for her and she is too good for you, so that is my final word on the matter.” He turned to walk away, but Simon took his elbow and turned him back around. “I will continue seeing her, even if I have to change all my plans and spend every dollar I make to visit her at Simarus.” Simon growled and Jordan just smiled and backhanded him so hard his ears rang and he collapsed in a heap on the porch. 

“If you insist upon it, I will call the police and tell them that you raped Shara… imagine what would happen to you in prison, as scrawny as you are, you’d be someone’s bitch within ten minutes.” He says with a smirk and Simon is smart enough to know there isn’t really anything left to do but let her go for now.



He opens his eyes and looks around; reality slamming back home when he hears the Overseer call for everyone to gather, the second round of combat is about to begin. Normally, the rounds begin in the morning, so everyone is well-rested and at their peak performance but he thinks that perhaps Lainee is simply trying to flex her gubernatorial muscles. He slides out of bed and dons his favorite sweats and heads upstairs to join the others. 

Both he and Ayasha had been sleeping after the long day and he squints as he ascends the stairs to the arena in the bright afternoon sun. Lainee pairs them up, leaving Saraya; who had earned the right to sit out the first part of the round in their last bout of combat. 

They draw straws and Simon pulls the short straw; meaning he fights first. His opponent is Tarik and he appears awake and ready to go. The Egyptian starts off strong and nearly takes Simon’s head off with a backhand punch, getting the first point quickly. Dazed, Simon steps back frantically and only barely manages to keep the other mans’ hands and feet from scoring on him. Tarik wades in undaunted and fails to notice Simon shifting to a left foot forward stance; so intent is he on trying to connect with a fist. A sweeping leg takes Tarik’s legs out from under him scoring one point and Simon capitalizes with a second kick to the man’s side while he is down, blasting the wind from his lungs and cracking one of his ribs.

Simon realizes how fortunate he just got; one errant strike could have put him on the path to elimination. He helps carry Tarik to the benches to recover a bit and get his breath back.

Rowena gets to her feet and makes her way to the arena, followed by Owen, who is in his usual fatigues; the man must still be in the military; in his mind at least. She has spent a long while this morning training, so her body is loose and warmed up. She had wanted to take her mind of lingering thoughts of Blaze. As though to take advantage of her slight distraction, Lainee begins the match before she is well and truly ready. 

She is forced to react instinctively as Owen begins a steady attack, mostly kicks, but with a few random punches to try and catch her off-guard. The distractions fade away like her surroundings, until it is just her and the man circling the mat and both trying very hard to defeat the other. Rowena ducks under a high kick and sweeps her leg around, but he hops back and attempt to bring the back of his foot down on her head. She barely gets out of the way, but delivers a wicked punch to the side of his knee.

Owen hops back and finds his knee can barely support his weight; suddenly finding himself at a terrible disadvantage. It isn’t long before Rowena gets her second point, doing so with a sharp jab to his ribs with her elbow and a hard right to his jaw. He feels himself falling and hit the mat hard and needs Simon and Rowena to help him back to his seat.



Ayasha is fully awake by the time she climbs into the ring with Troy and he seems to be a bit lost in thought; which of course is good for her. She is surprised however, when he charges straight in and hits her with a flying tackle, seemingly attempting to remove her from the competition in one go. She hits the ground giving him a point, but she rolls backwards pulling him with her and launches him across the mat with her powerful thighs, and he hits the side wall of the ring upside down and hard enough to knock the wind from him. He slides down and tries to get to his feet, but she is already coming in fast with a roundhouse kick. He is taken down and like the others, has to be helped in getting back to his seat. 

Lainee calls an hour break before the second heat; where the losers of the round will face off until one is eliminated. When they return, all of them notice K4T13 standing near the edge of the ring, in place to make sure the loser makes good on their promise to die with dignity.



Tarik steps into the ring with Owen and begins the last round of combat for the day; the winners will face off tomorrow for a chance to get a reprieve in round three. They are equally rested and focused, but Owen’s knee is still tender from Rowena’s strike. Despite his injury, he manages to get a single point against Tarik, who has a bruised rib, but it isn’t nearly as severe as his own problem; which hinders his movements. Tarik connects with an uppercut and single kick to Owen’s other leg, sending him to the mat.



Owen and Troy both seem to be recovered from the brutal first heat and face off in the arena next. They circle tentatively at first, not wanting to make a mistake, so take extra care in what they try against their opponent, but it builds into a slow momentum as their hands and feet seemingly move to the same dance; block and jab, kick and block. Owen’s sudden charge takes Troy surprise, so in tune with that rhythm the other man had forced him into and hits Troy with a punch to his midsection and elbow to the face in rapid succession, but can’t capitalize with the last point as Troy throws a hard left that connects solidly with Owen’s jowls.

Troy stays in the ring and Owen; who had won the most points, moves to the benches for a break while Tarik takes his place. Troy is more wary this time, moving slowly and almost in an opposite direction, though he successfully keeps the Egyptian at bay for a long while. When Tarik inadvertently slips, Troy rushes in with a solid attack with his foot, followed by a chop toward the other man’s throat. Tarik ducks beneath the chop, but run headlong into his foot, sending him to the mat, where he rolls frantically to keep the larger man from getting too close. He scrambles to his feet and lashes out wildly in a blind attack routine, punching and kicking at the man, managing to connect with a glancing blow to his temple. 

Troy is more wary after that, but Tarik continues to rage uncontrollably, his mind going back to that confrontation with his uncle; who basically had forced this situation on him… and damned if he will let that man decide not only his fate, but the fate of his parents. With a shout and cry to the heaven’s for Allah’s protection, he launches what would be his last attack against Troy, his knee coming up to collide against Troy’s skull and not only ending the match, but sealing Troy’s fate who had scored a paltry two points.





Troy recovers quickly, getting to his feet with Lainee and K4T13 looking on impassively. He staggers a bit from that last blow, and it is but a ruse. The simbot moves closer and he straightens quickly and bolts for the courtyard, hoping to escape this place with his life. Thoughts circling in his head; He never meant for any of this to go as far as it did. He had assumed he was tough enough, strong enough physically to overcome anything in his path or he had enough tenacity; was a big enough asshole that people generally rolled over to his demands. These last few days have taught him just how little he truly knew about himself and he wants to see if perhaps he can avoid the fate awaiting him here; he could buy a boat and sail around the round, confident he could keep a step ahead of those who could pursue him.



A steel hand grips the side of his pants and yanks him roughly to the side as he tries to dart past K4T13 and he is pushed roughly against the wall by the steel monstrosity bearing the title of enforcer. She slams him hard against the wall, stunning him and grips the back of his leg hard enough to strain his tendons; which will definitely make it hard to run. She jumps on him in an effort to restrain him, and though he struggles, it is ultimately a futile gesture against the unfeeling simbot.



She takes him physically; literally carrying him down to the cell, and not releasing him until she sets him down in front of the door to the cell and roughly pushes him inside and locks the door. She shrugs and chuckles in amusement at her little skirmish, but then straightens and walks back to monitor the arena, just in case anyone wants to take advantage of her absence to flee.

Once inside, he breaks down, collapsing onto the bunk to cry for the first time since he was a child, tears rolling in great waves down his cheeks now that his fate has been sealed and there is nothing left for him to do but go forward. He had never before thought that he was a coward; a craven heart, but this contest has proved once and for all that he became one when idle thoughts of his death became a dreadful reality for him. He has never been a spiritual man, but finds comfort in closing his eyes and speaking his sins aloud in the close confines of the cell, hoping without hope that God; if there is one, will have mercy on him. 

By the time he passes out from pain and sheer exhaustion, he has but one thought left in his mind: To die standing up, proudly if possible.







  

  

Chapter 7: A Wrong put to Right

Ayasha just couldn’t face the last ceremony for Blaze, her mind going over the event of the last two days, and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. It was extremely unfair what happened to him and even though she didn’t know him well, or like him for that matter; it doesn’t mean he deserves the hand that fate dealt him. She stops at his newly dug grave and though she not usually one who shows emotion, finds herself weeping openly at the simple vase of flowers that someone had placed in front of his headstone, bright orange like the man’s ridiculous hair.

She thinks back to her own childhood in the slums; having very little in the way of possessions and often times not enough to eat. Her grandfather; in his prime and working as a janitor at the time, grew tired of living on just what scraps happened to fall their way. 


He began to take what he felt that he and his family deserved; however he could, but only from people who had, in his opinion, more than their fair share. He had made many enemies during his subsequent rise to power, but strangely enough as time went by, most became his most trusted associates and the rest mysteriously disappeared.

She doesn’t condone any of his actions; but something about the manner with which he had done things seems honorable in its own way. What her grandfather had done was simply taken charge of his own destiny, forged his own fate and that is something Blaze never had the chance to do, so she wants to try and make it right to honor his memory.





She tries hard to clear her mind by meditating; something that never failed to make her feel better when she had issues that needed to be worked out. This time however, despite all her best efforts and several attempts to pouring all of her fear, anger, pain and doubt into a flickering flame in her minds’ eye, her mind doesn’t let her relax because of the man who bears the same name as that calming flame. Standing up, she takes out her phone and dials a number without hesitating. Her father answers and asks after her well-being, but she asks to speak with grandfather without answering him. He seems a little troubled by her lack of response, but hands the phone to his father. Ukito has always been a calming voice of reason when all else fails and this time is no exception as she pours out her feelings to him over the phone and though he seems surprised at her out flowing of emotions, helps her get to the core of what she is feeling with the skill and speed of an expensive psychiatrist.

“What can be done grandfather?” She asks weakly, once she is drained of her emotions, leaving her cold and determined. “Fear not child, there is hope yet.” He says simply, putting her at ease. “I will contact one of my many acquaintances and set up a meeting for later this afternoon. I will give you the details when the arrangements have made. She doesn’t have to wait long, getting the address and time of the meeting as a text message only a double handful of minutes later. The only thing to do now is to find a way of sneaking out without getting caught.





In her wanderings of the arena, she had noticed a small wall hanging at the end of a hall that leads up to the sparring ring itself. The wall hanging down the right hand passage had a door next to it, leading to the chamber Blaze had died in, but the other has a blank wall. She has heard of this type of thing before as her grandfather has something similar in the penthouse they share, so decides to go check it out; thinking perhaps there will be a way out of the arena.





As she investigates the seemingly perfect wall, she feels what seems to be the edge of a door that doesn’t quite match up flush at the sides, so pushes and pulls on it, hoping she is right about her earlier suspicions. The door swings open and she heads down the hall, closing the door behind her so as not to attract unwanted attention. Inside is an unused room decorated and furnished like a library, with a long row of shelves stuffed with books, scrolls and other reading material. A table and chairs sit at one end and a pair of couches at the other with a small trickling pool of water near the center, a perfect place to meditate."Why would they ever seal a room like this off?" She wonders idly, but has a mission so that thought will have to wait until a later date.





Having that talk with Grandpa Ukito helped immensely as she sits and closes her eyes, listening to the tinkle of water flowing over rocks in the basin beside her and breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth slowly. Her mind slowly forms the single flame; like she’d see on a candle and soon feels all her negative emotions drain away into the flame, dimly aware of Blaze’s shadowy face in the center of that flickering mass. It is several long minutes before she feels a lassitude sweep over her like Blaze had felt in the arena with Lainee guiding the flow of meditative focus, and feels herself floating several inches above the ground. 


Normally focus like this takes someone years to master, but to her it comes easy and she has practiced many times on her own in the past five years; though mostly under the watchful eye of her grandfather. The energy builds within her and she pictures a location in her mind and feels the world lurch into motion, hearing the wind rush by as though she is flying.





A dark-skinned man is waiting for her as she gets to her feet in a large, lavish house across town. Likely Professor Devlin DeHaviland is the strangest man she has ever met with weird glasses over his eyes and what looks to be a lab coat; though a long one and green rubber gloves pulled all the way up to his elbows. 


“I am Ayasha Miakoda, my grandfather sent me to meet with you.” She says, extending her hand. He looks at it and just looks over the top of his glasses. “I was expecting you to arrive by taxi, not simply appearing here in my living room; you could have been hurt.” He says passively. It is only now that she sees all the workbenches literally crammed with copper tubing, glass beakers and open flames under smaller glass beakers. A large chamber gets her attention, but she looks back to him. “Did my grandfather tell you the nature of my visit?” She asks slowly and he shakes his head. “No, but you can… I hope you don’t mind if I continue what I was doing.” 


She goes into a truncated story of Blaze’s death while he goes back to one of the work benches to attend some of the vials and beakers already boiling therein and when she is finished he looks up from his work. “I know why your grandfather told you to come here to meet me and it is very risky but I can indeed help with this particular situation.” He says casually, piquing her curiosity, but leaving it unsatisfied as he turns off all the Bunsen burners and heads out the door without a word. He hails a cab and simply looks over his shoulder and waits with a look in her direction; as though saying “Let’s go.”

They climb into the cab together and travel across town to the arena, where he goes to visit the grave of Blaze, looking down impassively. Lainee happens to see her come back into the arena with a look of surprise, but heads the other way when she sees the strange man. Devlin kneels down and digs a small hole with his finger until he feels wood, then takes out a drill and bores a small hole through the top of the casket. With that done, he produces a metal object from his pocket and puts it through the hole and when he pulls a plunger on the back of the object the glass interior fills with blood and human tissue. He nods to himself and puts the object back into his pocket and leaves without a word.





She goes to fill the hole in Blaze’s grave with her hands and find tears in her eyes again, taking her by surprise. Once she straightens, she turns to see Simon standing there soberly watching her, sympathy plainly painted on his face. “It’s okay to cry Ayasha, no one will think anything less of you, especially after what happened to Blaze.” He says softly, tears in his eyes also. “Just think that he is in a better place now; without any pain or suffering.” He trails off, pulling her close for a hug instead. She isn’t usually one for having her personal space invaded, but she finds a bit of comfort in his arms. She straightens after a minute and walks away, leaving Simon to stare blankly at the Orange Rooster’s grave.

“You left the arena… that is strictly forbidden by the rules of this tournament.” Lainee says, confronting her in the salon a couple minutes later. “I didn’t, I simply met him outside the gate and you didn’t notice me walking out.” Ayasha says blandly, nearly snubbing her with attitude. Lainee sputters audibly, seemingly at a loss, so she storms off angrily, muttering to herself. When she is gone Ayasha breathes a visible sigh of relief at having nearly been caught and “disqualified” and goes to bed before she gets into more trouble, falling asleep with the hope that Professor DeHaviland can help Blaze somehow.



About the same time, elsewhere in the Arena, Troy is chatting with Tarik. He had been simply awestruck by the ceremony that morning; and at first had felt a twinge of sadness for Blaze, who was unlucky enough to have that horrible fate befall him, but after a while he is relieved that it isn’t him and it leaves him with a sense of his own mortality creeping up behind him. He had spent the morning alone with his thoughts and realized that he could die like that too and he has nothing to show for it in his life except a string of bad choices and a few grudges. Not wanting to travel down that path anymore caused him to seek out the others in the arena and the first to cross his path was Tarik.

“Be at ease Troy, for he is with his God and at peace for all times.” He is saying, drawing Troy back to the present. “I know man, it’s just he wasn’t supposed to go out like that.” Troy says sourly. “Yes, but it was your God’s will, perhaps he felt that Blaze had suffered enough in this life and took him home.” Troy proceeds to apologize for the argument they had the first days in the arena and feels strangely light as he goes to the fire pit upstairs.



Owen is already there, apparently he had wanted some time alone, but seems to welcome Troy’s company, though they sit in silence for several long minutes. He breaks the silence by apologizing for every cross word and act he has done against the man, determined to have a clear conscience if his fate is the same as Blaze’s. The man says nothing, but Troy can feel the tension ease from the other man and watches him head downstairs, rubbing his eyes. He stares into the flames for nearly an hour, to look up and see the moon is in the sky overhead and the air chills him to the bone, even through his sweater.





As he stands and turns toward the stairs he freezes when he sees a shimmering figure floating above the grass. He had never believed in ghosts even as a kid, but here was one in the flesh and it leaves him speechless. He moves closer and sees the silvery comb on the ghosts head and the playful smile that was Blaze’s trademark. The ghost beckons him closer and he approaches tentatively, unsure if the ghost holds any grudges against him. He is mute at first and the ghost just stands patiently, waiting for him to speak. “I am sorry Blaze… for anything I may have done to make you hate me.” He says softly; his voice barely higher than a whisper. Before he can say anything else, the ghost of Blaze just nods happily and disappears into the ground from whence he came, though whether he is at rest again or not, Troy has not a clue.





Troy bumps into Rowena on his way to the barracks for a good night’s sleep, still a little unsure of what had just transpired, and she sees that he is flustered, so asks what is happening. He is a little hesitant about telling her, thinking that she will laugh at him or something, but eventually it spills out and he gives her a true accounting of his encounter with the ghost. She doesn’t laugh, in fact she is supportive of him, telling him that she feels he did the right thing and that makes him feel a bit better; good enough in fact that he can rest easy and heads for the barracks.

Rowena remembers back to her childhood, and that large sprawling house they lived in that had belonged to her grandparents. At first she thought she was imagining things, talking to her grandma sitting beneath an apple tree in the back yard, but as she grew up and continued seeing the beautiful old woman, knew that her grandmother’s spirit was a little restless. She had not gone away by the time Rowena had moved to Bridgeport and wants nothing more than to go back and see her grandma one last time before this is all over.

She is lost in thought and literally runs into Simon in the barracks as she is heading for her blankets. He stops her from falling and asks her what the problem is. She tells it like Troy had told her, and at first Simon is skeptical, having never seen a ghost, but taking into account her dire seriousness and how she speaks, he soon believes her story somewhat. If any spirit could be restless, it would be Blaze, who had that horrible injustice against him at the end. Simon turns to his bed and curls up beneath the blankets as Rowena hits the lights. He lays there awake for a few minutes, but the day’s activity has left him drained, so he rolls over to the side and his eyes slide closed.



And sees Blaze sleeping soundly on his bed.

Chapter 6: The Condemned Man

Lainee Gordaine, the true overseer for this year’s Last Sim Standing competition arrives at the arena ahead of schedule; having been rushed by the corporate sponsors into filling the void the pretender Dorian left behind and trying to salvage the rest of the match. They gave her explicit instructions and she cannot deviate from them without dire consequences.

She is a retired Olympic champion in Sim-Fu and like Dorian, a former winner of this competition; the first one ever held ten years before. She had been nineteen with a head full of dreams and while the competition made most of them come true when she won, it made the rest seem a child’s wish on a simoleon thrown into a fountain; somewhat petty and unrealistic.





Seven of the Fateful Eight have apparently been waiting for her to arrive and even though they can’t leave the arena, they were watching the gates as she pulled up. Ayasha is the first to greet her and Lainee; having read all of their files knows of the young woman and her pursuit of taking over the family business. Once the clumsy introductions are over, Ayasha immediately goes into a rambling story about Dorian, his connivance and the fate of Blaze; who at that moment is in the cell awaiting her decision. “You must help him!” She says insistently and Lainee assures her that she knows what to do and turns to walk away.

“What happened to Blaze isn’t right…” Simon says, taking Ayasha’s place in talking to Lainee, hoping to sway her. “Dorian wasn’t the true overseer… it shouldn’t count!” He says angrily, more at that snake Dorian than anyone else. “Calm down, I have my instructions from the network and the sponsors about how to proceed.” She says impassively, hardly making Simon feel any better about Blaze’s fate. Sure, the man was annoying and liked to pick on him, but what happened to him wasn’t right and he deserves a second chance to fight.





Lainee heads to the cell and unlocks the door, entering to speak with Blaze; whom she also knows well from reading his file. She strides in full of purpose since he is a convicted killer and wants to show no weakness to him. Sure it was self-defense, but a man still lost his life to his large hands, ones that could likely fit around her neck nicely.

“I have bad news for you Blaze.” She begins simply, dispassionately. “The corporate sponsors and ruling counsel have made their decision and that decision is final.” She forestalls any argument and his face is crestfallen, knowing now that his fate is sealed. “After much deliberation, they have ruled that since the fight was legitimate and took place in the arena, the results of that match stands and your life is forfeit.” She finishes and he just stands there stunned for several long minutes.

“That snake Dorian tricked us… there should be some kind of penalty for him… even if my life is over.” He hisses angrily, and since she had nothing to do with the decision, or the events of the past two days, he can’t take it out on her so he just turns and sits on the bed with his head in his hands.

“It seems that Ayasha called in a favor with her grandfather, who is very influential in certain circles and he sent some of his associates to take care of him. It seems she isn’t a woman to be trifled with.” She says seriously and Blaze looks up with his eyes brimming with tears. “At least that is good to know…” He says sadly and watches as she turns to leave.





Blaze spends his last night in the cell, looking back on his life regretfully and as he recalls his mother’s face the last time he saw her, he weeps bitterly and unabashed. His brother and uncle had been there and the room smelled of roses, violets and hyacinth; her favorite flowers that somewhat masked the “natural” hospital smells of sanitizer and purified air. She had been fatally sick then with little hope of surviving long, and yet she had the strength to tell him to stay out of trouble, her eyes filled with tears as she told him how proud she was of him and what a good man he had become.

To Blaze it is the longest night of his life and that memory is one that keeps going round and round in his head and shames him to the core, since he told had told her bitterly that he didn’t want or need her approval since she was the one who made his father leave them. He had never forgiven her that and she had died shortly after those words left his mouth, and it is impossible to take them back or even forgive himself for speaking them.

The ceremony begins before dawn and he is taken to the arena where the others are already gathered and sitting cross-legged in a circle around the center. The meditation lasts nearly an hour and the sun crests the horizon as he tries desperately to make peace with God, but more importantly with himself.





The meditation had been guided by Lainee and as the tempo reaches a crescendo, he feels a strange lassitude overcome him and feels himself floating over the mat. The sensation lasts several minutes and when he opens his eyes, he finds himself in the place he most feared to be; the chamber where his life will end. As the feeling washes away, he gets to his feet and sees that the rest of his companions are in the observation room; all but Ayasha, who is strangely absent from the proceedings. He knows what he needs to do and decides to face this like a man if at all possible.





“I ask this of you all…” He says with his voice cracking, on the verge of tears. “Please forgive me for my childishness, it was only because I was so hurt by the events that brought me here that it was the only way I could think of to keep my mind off the grief and pain I had caused and had inflicted on me.” He hangs his head in shame and the others just watch; their expressions as varied as they themselves are. “Also, forgive me for taking the life of Elwood Trahern that fateful day when Thunder lost his life.” He sobs, speaking more to the heavens than to anyone present.

“Poor Thunder!” He wails and breaks into tears, falling to his knees roughly and curling up almost to the fetal position as sadness threatens to overwhelm him to the core. When he recovers a little several long minutes later, he sits back up and puts his head in his hands. “I also ask forgiveness for those last words I spoke to my mother as she lay dying… and I hope she is still proud of me and the man I have become… words I didn’t need then, but surely need now.” His throat clenches as audible sobs wrack his lean frame and his tears are running freely down his cheeks. It takes longer to recover this time and when he does, he stands up and gets nearer to the glass wall between him and the rest of his companions.

“Forgive me most of all for what I do now, and pray that I don’t linger in pain for long during this endeavor… pray that the flames sear the soul from me quickly.” He says in a hoarse whisper, tears flowing freely down his face. “Take me from this world and into the next, where perhaps I will find redemption.” He says and stands, walking over and stepping into the flames.







The flames consume the orange rooster and seem to blend in with his choice of wardrobe and even though Blaze tries to face it like a man, toward the end there is a long, agonized wail from within the conflagration that sets everyone’s teeth on edge. The others are looking on somberly while the man’s death is recorded in full HD for all to see by the cameras overhead and it seems to those watching here more closely that it is bitterly unfair that his life is cut so short. Each of them takes it differently, but all feel keenly the sadness in the arena as he lies motionless on the floor once the flames subside. Troy turns and walks away before the flames stop, not wanting to see the man in that state while Ayasha is visibly crying, yet a hard look on her face upon seeing his body.

Rowena sobs quietly and wishes she hadn’t snubbed the poor man; who wasn’t really serious about any of the things he said to her when they were alone together, knowing now what demons he had in the darkness of his soul and bitterly hoping that he will find what he deserves in the next life. Owen solemnly wishes it had been him instead of Blaze, since fate had been cruel to the unfortunate man and his own demons are almost calling out for his death; the guilty conscience he has from those years ago resurfacing as though it had just happened yesterday. 


Simon and Tarik are both silent, yet their eyes are red and filled with tears as they watch Lainee easily wrap the body in a clean white shroud, symbolic of purity and it is a solemn procession that carries him to the arena above and lays him to rest next to the rest of the fallen champions.





The ceremony is concluded as they gather around the fresh grave in the arena and speak in turns about Blaze, things they liked, things they disliked or adventures they had together. It is a sober and serious retelling of stories and emotions flow freely through those still alive. As Lainee watches from the side, even she finds tears in her eyes as Saraya breaks down crying, collapsing in a heap at the foot of his grave and placing a vase of flowers below the headstone. Simon cries as he retells his first encounter with the playful Blaze.

“I just wish it was me instead of him… it is so unfair how everything went down.” He says, tears flowing and he too collapses in a heap atop and older grave; one from last year. As the sun goes down over the arena, they migrate back to the barracks for some much needed sleep; though they are all somewhat doubtful that they will be able to get much after the events of today and as they enter, they get a final reminder of Blaze as they lie down and close their eyes.



His empty bed.