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.