Arena

by Logan Jacobs

  “Kind of,” Artemis explained. “The advanced technology of the Acherons is run by a central computer core composed of over six hundred poly-chain linked artificial intelligence matrices that devise the trials contained within the Crucible. A combination of practical, real-world objects as well as antimatter constructs are used to create each trial.”

  “So, they are real?” I asked.

  “Yes, the constructs, both environmental and oppositional, are made from antimatter and are quite real,” she informed. “The AIs monitor and control construct participants who are not Champions. As well as any, what’s the word?”

  “NPCs,” I replied, as the whole concept finally clicked into place.

  “Exactly!” She exclaimed as if I’d gotten a quiz question right.

  “Enough talking,” Grizz chided. “Let us test out your new combat modules. Artemis, why don’t you rev up the construct engine?”

  “Coming right up, Grizz,” Artemis ensured as she typed onto her keypad.

  “Let’s go, human,” Grizz ordered and pointed to the center of the room.

  I hopped up from the chair and walked over to where Grizz had pointed.

  “Do I get to warm up or anything?” I asked as I began to swing my arms in a swimmer’s stretch.

  “No,” Grizz barked.

  Some type of generator in the wall kicked to life and started to hum. Then a falling domino-like ripple went through the floor, walls, and ceiling of the room, and we were suddenly on a frozen mountain top as gusts of snow blew all around us. The sky was the brightest blue I’d ever seen, and the powdery snow swirled around yellow granite outcroppings in the frigid wind.

  Before I had a chance to ask what was going on, four bipedal squid men appeared from a small cave entrance near an outcropping in front of me. They had on cold weather gear that clung to all eight of their appendages and each held a studded club that resembled a baseball bat.

  “You could face the Squid Warriors of Fistokit on the frozen mountain wastes of Acadia,” Grizz yelled, more than just a bit amused.

  The Fistokit dudes attacked in a flurry of tentacles. I had a brief flash of them as Squidward from Spongebob Squarepants before my body flew into motion without real conscious thought. Somehow, I knew that with the reach the squid-men were going to have, the best option tactically was to close the gap as fast as I could and get inside their arms or tentacles. Also, since I couldn’t see if they had joints, either elbows or knees, I needed to strike at the crotch, face, or neck.

  I took three quick steps toward the closest Fistokit, my left arm held up high near my face while my right was coiled, elbow tight against my body and near my chin as he started to swing the bat toward me. I reached him before he could get any real momentum with the bat and blocked his tentacle with my left arm while I drove my shoulder into his tentacle socket. The squid-man let out a wet sounding yelp and dropped the bat as I trapped his tentacle under my left arm and slammed a head-butt into what I assumed was his nose. As his head snapped back, I yanked him forward and down while I drove my right knee up as hard as I could. It connected with a hollow sounding thunk, like rapping on a watermelon, and Squid-man went limp as he slumped to the ground.

  I knew I had to move fast to get back around on the next Fistokit, but my body would not move as quickly as my brain wanted it to, and I barely got my arm up in time to fend off a glancing blow from another bat as I stepped outside the arc of the swing. As he moved past me, I grabbed his face in my hands, pulled him close, and dropped all of my weight to the ground. The Fistokit’s neck took the brunt of the force as gravity pulled my two hundred plus pounds downward, and it snapped like a twig. I grabbed the bat from his limp fingers and spun around as his body collapsed.

  The final Fistokit was more cautious, and that was good because I was panting to catch my breath. My mind screamed at me to advance fast and strike, but my legs could only shuffle forward one step at a time. One of the Fistokit’s tentacles whipped out and wrapped around the bat in my hands. Instead of trying to yank it back like he was expecting, I stayed with the bat when he pulled on it and drove the business end into his groin with a twist of my shoulders.

  He let out an “oof,” his eyes bugged, and he inked himself as he fell over and lay on the ground.

  I stood up and tried to catch my breath as the room rippled back to its original form.

  “You were indeed right, human,” Grizz said as he walked over to me with an actual smile on his face. “The Krav Maga was an excellent choice.”

  “Yeah,” I wheezed as I gulped air. “Thankfully it managed to overcompensate for my couch-potato stamina.”

  “It is a simple and brutal form of defense,” Grizz agreed, “that you seem to have adapted to quickly. Ha! My heart sang with joy when you made the final Fistokit ink his trousers.”

  “I heard his testicle pop!” Artemis cheered as she gave me a huge smile and a thumbs up.

  “No one will be sucking on his genital appendage, will they?” Grizz joked. “No! I think not!”

  I wasn’t sure if I should have been proud or appalled, but I didn’t get the chance to decide because all of a sudden, a loud alarm began to blare as red lights flashed in the locker room.

  Artemis and Grizz turned and locked eyes.

  “Flash Trial!” Artemis yelled, her voice urgent.

  “Blast!” Grizz yelled as he turned back to me. “Well, human, this is as good as any time to learn that here in the Meat Grinder, anything is possible, and nothing is predictable.”

  “Uh, guys, what’s going on?” I asked, more than just a little bit confused.

  “It’s a Flash Trial,” Artemis answered as if that explained it.

  “What does that mean?” I pressed. “Are we all gathering in a mall to do a dance routine?”

  “That is ridiculous, human,” Grizz scolded as he rushed over to a large tube that had descended from the ceiling next to the weapons lockers. It was about two feet in diameter and made of a translucent shimmering plastic. The base was a ring of electronics that lit up with red and blue lights when it touched the floor.

  “It is an unplanned, random, individualized Trial,” Grizz explained as he interfaced with the controls of the tube. “Mandatory unless you have purchased a pass to make you exempt.”

  “You have no such pass, Marc,” Artemis said nervously, as she answered my question before I even had a chance to ask it.

  She pulled me over to the tube.

  “What are we looking at, Grizz?” she questioned.

  “No details yet,” he retorted. “Here we go. Damn! Paradise Run.”

  “Fuck a duck,” Artemis spat out.

  “Hey, you got that one--“ I didn’t have time to finish my sentence as she handed me two foot-and-half long rods made from a pale blue metal. The bottoms were covered in molded black rubber, and they looked like Kali fighting sticks.

  As she pushed me closer to the tube, a me-sized portal appeared in the front that looked like it was made of cellophane and someone had put a lighter up to it.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I grumbled, “I just passed a Trial yesterday. Don’t I get a break or something?”

  “No,” Grizz said firmly. “There are no breaks. No time-outs. No mercy. Your only easy day was yesterday, human. Remember that.”

  Artemis moved my hands up so that the sticks were parallel to my back where they snapped onto magnetic holders, the handles easily accessible above each shoulder, and pushed me into the tube.

  “Paradise Run?” I scoffed arrogantly. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “You’re going to face inexplicable danger, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before,” she said before she leaned up and kissed me. Her lips were warm and moist, and she smelled like a mix of vanilla and exotic spice.

  “I have grown quite fond of you, Marc Havak, Champion of Earth,” she said. “Do not die.”

  “I’ve got a few surprises left in me, sweetheart.” I smirked as the opening closed, our eyes locked.


  They were the last thing I saw before multicolored light swirled around me, and I disintegrated into nothingness.

  Chapter Ten

  Artemis’ gorgeous eyes were the last thing I saw before my molecules were turned to light, sucked up into the tube, and beamed to only God knows where. I had a brief millisecond memory of rushing down a quantum tunnel, swirled amid atomic soup, then extruded like neutrino toothpaste.

  When I opened my eyes, I found myself on a gorgeous white sand beach as I stared out into a vast, turquoise blue ocean. The waves sparkled like a thousand diamonds as the light breeze kicked up white tops. I looked around and saw a tropical coastline stretched out behind me, a dense, thick jungle wall of foliage and vines stood beyond the dunes about a hundred yards away. A dormant volcano rose out of the dark, emerald green jungle like an abandoned sentinel, covered in lush tropical flowers that flourished in the rich, black volcanic soil.

  A warm, humid, tropical breeze blew the scent of coconut, mango, and jasmine across my face. The sun hung in the center of the sky like a light bulb casting a soft, warm, photo-friendly light across the horizon. I took a deep breath of the fragrant air, closed my eyes, and let the sunshine warm my face as my mind took the moment to fantasize what Artemis would look like in a barely-there string bikini, the water dripping from her skin while she jogged up the beach.

  “Man, Havak, this isn’t so bad after all,” I said out loud to myself as I enjoyed the moment of peace and quiet.

  “Hello, Marc Havak!” a loud voice boomed from out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time. “Welcome to today’s Flash Trial, Paradise Run.”

  I opened my eyes and saw a huge alien face, probably a hundred feet tall, floating in the sky above the ocean. It was male and decidedly of human descent, but with feline features and covered in tortoiseshell tabby fur.

  “My name is Chi-Cheshire, and I’m your ever faithful host and master of ceremonies for the Crucible of Carnage!” the cat yelled as if this were a game show. “This Flash Trial is easy. All you have to do is go to the volcano, retrieve an info disk, and place it through the slot in that kiosk over there.”

  A big arrow appeared next to Chi-Cheshire's face pointing down and to my right. Sure enough, there was a white kiosk, blinking with futuristic alien lights, with a small disk size slot in the top like a DVD return from the bygone days of Blockbuster.

  “Be brave, Champion,” Chi-Cheshire said, his feline voice purred the words in a low hum. “Remember, your planet depends on you.”

  His face flickered and disappeared. Nothing was left in his wake but cloudless azure sky.

  “Well,” I said with a bit of an arrogant smirk, “that doesn’t seem too hard.”

  That’s when I heard the loud, distinct sound of high-pitched, two-stroke motorbike engines coming from my left. I looked in the direction the sound came from, but an outcropping of volcanic rock obscured the view as the beach curved off around the bend of the island. The revving got louder and louder, echoing off the cliff face that extended up from the rock outcropping until finally the source of the noise burst through the water at the edge of the beach as a horde of dirt-bikes sped around the rocks. Rag clad marauders, brandishing all kinds of Mad Max Fury Road-inspired weapons, sat atop the dirt-bikes.

  I looked around to make sure I wasn’t being punked.

  “Really, guys?” I asked out loud, “Post-apocalyptic bikers on a tropical beach? That’s just silly. Where are they gonna get the gas?”

  I chuckled smugly as I mugged to cameras that weren’t there.

  The scout, about a hundred feet in front of the rest, saw me and stopped his bike. The marauders slowed as he held up his hand for them to stop. He pulled out a pair of binoculars, put them to his eyes, and glared at me from behind their lenses. I remembered that I had a pair of internal ones, and I toggled them on with my thumb and pointer finger. My view zoomed in, and the two of us locked eyes.

  The scout biker dropped his binoculars, let out a wail that caused a flock of birds to burst from a treetop. He pulled a trigger on his handlebars and four tubes that were mounted on the front yoke of his dirt-bike expelled plumes of compressed air. I was half-expecting to see a volley of t-shirts come my way when an arrow grazed my left arm. It tore a chunk off my jumpsuit and left a three-inch gash in my tricep before it sank into the sand behind me. The remaining arrows landed dangerously close to me.

  I looked at my bleeding arm in disbelief. That’s when the searing pain hit.

  “Ow!” I screamed, “that fucking hurt!”

  The scout gunned his bike, the engine emitting a high-pitched scream, and sped right toward me.

  The rest of the marauders revved their bikes, and the horde took off after the scout bike. Sand plumed behind the bikes’ knobby back wheels as they red-lined their engines. The marauders all let out war cries, hungry for blood.

  “You had to open your big fat mouth, didn’t you, Havak?” I asked myself. The answer to that question was always yes.

  I grabbed the metal fighting sticks attached to my back and clacked them in front of me. When I did, vicious looking axe blades appeared on each one and they crackled with electricity. Turns out they weren’t fighting sticks but Viking inspired war axes.

  “Ha!” I yelled as I thrust them into the air without even thinking about it.

  The scout bike saw me, revved his engine more, and reached down to the side of his bike. When his hand reappeared, it held a short wooden handle that had a chain hanging at least a foot-and-half off the top. The chain ended in a small chainsaw with a two-foot blade. The marauder pressed a button on the handle, and the chainsaw roared to life, its high-pitched whine climbing over the top of the dirt-bikes’, bolstered by it until it was all I could hear. He pressed one last button and the chainsaw blade burst into flames. The marauder then whipped his arm across his body and began to swing the whole violent contraption over his head in slow, but powerful, circles. Red hot flaming liquid fuel flew from the chainsaw as it arced through the air, full of fiery rage.

  “Ah, fuck me gently with a flaming chainsaw… on a chain,” I said under my breath as I lowered the axes and began to look around frantically for a safe place. All I could see was the ocean, dunes, and an impenetrable jungle wall.

  I knew if I stayed indecisive for even a second longer, I was as good as dead. Great Uncle Joe had always said that indecision was a bigger killer than a bad decision. You can always try to remedy a bad choice, but you can’t do anything about a choice you never made.

  I heeded his advice as I made a random choice and hauled ass toward the jungle wall, just as I heard the whumps of compressed air cannons, and the whizzing of arrows as they fell just short of where I had been. I put the axes back on my back where they snapped into the magnetic sheaths. It was hard to run with them, and they threw off my balance that was already strained because of the thick sand I was trudging through. I glanced behind me and saw the scout gaining on me fast. He was only a hundred yards away, maybe less.

  I tried to add a burst of speed, but my legs had turned to Tootsie rolls made of lead, and I couldn’t suck in air fast enough. My heart thundered in my chest, and my lungs screamed at me to stop.

  “Why did you ever quit going to CrossFit you idiot!” I yelled out loud as sweat poured from my pores.

  The scout gave a warbling howl, and the engine of his dirt-bike screamed in redline agony. I looked back again and saw that he had closed the gap to only twenty-five yards. The dune I had been making a horizontal beeline to was just ahead of me. The timing on what I had in mind was going to be tricky, and if I didn't get it right, I was going to become a flaming headless Marc. Full of arrows.

  I hit the incline of the dune, and it was all I could do to keep my legs moving in the steep sand. I heard the motorcycle engine behind me roar like a predator and felt the heat of the flaming chainsaw as it swiped the air just behind my head. The scout wailed in victory.

  “Gaaaaaaahhhh!” I screamed with every ounce of adrenalin
e, fear, and sheer will to live that I had left. My life up until the day I found out that I was Earth’s Champion had been a series of almosts and ‘what ifs’, mediocre and nondescript.

  In the last twenty-four hours, I’d met the President of the United States, taken a wormhole through the sun, survived a massive space battle, killed a crap ton of freaky demons, and hooked up with a smoking hot bionic woman. Sure, I was scared to death half the time and faced certain death at every turn, but goddamned if it wasn’t worth it. I had a sexy space babe waiting for me and a planet to be the savior of and I was not going to let this War-Boy wannabe motherfucker kill me.

  I felt blazing heat on the side of my face, and I knew the chainsaw blade was only inches from my neck. I had one last second to plan my timing as I reached the top of the dune, stopped suddenly, bent at the waist, and pitched myself down the other side. As I went ass over elbows, I saw the flaming blade cut through the air where my head had been, and the dirt-bike, which was doing about a hundred and thirty miles an hour, sail off the top of the dune as if it had been a ramp in a stunt show.

  “Eat a bag of dicks!” I managed to shout as I tumbled down the sand dune.

  The scout flew into the air, the centrifugal force of his swing arcing the blade around just as they hit the practically solid jungle wall. The blade cut a slice in the vines a second before the motorcycle flew through it and out of sight.

  I heard a loud crash and a blood-curdling scream of pain as I rolled to the bottom of the dune. I sat on my ass with my legs stretched out akimbo in front of me, and spit out a mouthful of sand.

  “Holy shit,” I said with growing excitement. “I can’t believe that actually worked.” I didn’t have time to pat myself on the back for too long because the steady growl of the rest of the horde was gaining quickly.

  I pushed myself to my feet, used one of my axes to hack a small opening in the dense brush, and disappeared into the jungle.

  The change in climate and scenery was a little disorienting. Going from the bright, cloudless sunshine of the pristine beach to the dark, wet, earthy jungle was like walking out of an all-night bar at seven AM. The humidity was thick, oppressive, and made it hard to breathe. Sunlight filtered in through the canopy of tropical trees to dapple the floor of the jungle with shafts of light, but most of the place was covered in shadow.