by Gavin Magson
“I have been waiting for you, Ajax, I am glad you decided to join us. I've been entertaining my guest with stories of your past victories, those that I have reports of anyway. Are you ready to fight tonight?” asked the warden, who was sat next to a tall, handsome man. Both kept their eyes on the fights as he spoke to Ajax.
“Of course I am, sir, for as long as there is a beat left in my heart. Who will I be fighting?”
“My guest has chosen your fighter tonight,” Warden Smith indicated the man on his left. “Your opponent is a bit of a novice in these fights, but has survived two so far. We look forward to seeing your bout, just wait by the centre ring until your name is called. Good luck, Mr Frost. I hope for my wallets sake that you don't let me down. Oh, before I forget, I did not tell you about our one rule; no weapons of any kind in the ring. Get caught with a weapon and the punishment is a very long, painful death to the violator.”
Both men stood up, a devilish smile on the warden’s face. They shook Ajax's hand as if this were just a simple business meeting and not a prelude to someone’s death. When he felt it was safe to do so Ajax turned his back on the men and hurriedly descended from the platform. He had the distinct impression that a viper’s nest would be less poisonous than associating himself with that warden.
Peter and Mel were still waiting for him by the staircase, his wish that they would leave before the fight had not come true. He led them in silence to the centre circle, positioning himself to best watch the fight in progress.
A small shiver of fear crept up inside Ajax, for the first time he realised that the different rules of these fights not only meant one contender lived, but that they allowed genders to be mixed. He had killed women before, not many but all would not have hesitated in trying to kill him. This might not be any different, but he did not wish to be in the ring with a woman. He hoped the warden’s guest had chosen a male opponent.
Inside the circle a body hit the floor with a satisfying thump. Ajax was impressed that the female fighter had managed to throw the male over her shoulders, driving him into the floor head first with a sickening crunch. She took a step backwards, leaving the man enough time to roll away just as she leapt, landing where his neck had been a split second before. The man looked groggy when he managed to get back to his feet, his movements sluggish. Ajax could tell his time was almost up.
A furious volley of punches rocked the man's chest, his opponent lacking in strength what she made up for with blistering speed. He fell once again, not moving fast enough as the woman wrapped both legs around his neck. The man struggled in vain, clawing at the strong legs that choked him of air.
Blood was already streaming from the woman's exposed thighs where the man's fingernails had torn flesh. She grunted and cried out through the pain, never relenting her hold. His lips turned blue and his face purple with exertion, Ajax was unsure if he imagined the man's eyes beginning to bulge outwards. With the last of his energy the man scrabbled to flip onto his stomach, trying to stand up with the woman still attached. Just when Ajax thought the man might yet escape death his body collapsed lifeless to the floor. The fight was won.
Ajax could see the shock on Mel's face out of his peripherals. A hand was held up to her open mouth, the expression of horror frozen on her face. He had tried to warn her what it would be like in the arena, Mel had protested that in the past few days she had seen enough death to prepare for anything that might come. He presumed that now was not the time to point out how wrong she was.
Neither of the next set of names was his, so Ajax took the chance to move closer to the platform for some free space. Thankfully there were fewer onlookers this far from the circle, which provided him with all the room he required.
He began to stretch out his limbs, using exercises he had developed along with the help of Aiko. As he eased his body into the routine blood pumped into the muscles and his movements became more supple and swift as his muscles warmed up. Mel joined him, watching with a slight hunger in her gaze as Ajax flexed his body. He noticed her eyes focus on his numerous scars, most that she had never seen before. Peter stayed behind to watch the next fight, no doubt to lick his wounds at being ignored by the woman he had been attempting to impress for several weeks now.
“Why do you do that?” asked Mel, not breaking her sight from his body.
“It helps with my reflexes, prevents tearing muscles in the fight and is something to occupy my thoughts. I don't like to focus too much on the fight during my warm up, it can affect your concentration during the bout. Considering it is a fight to the death it would not help to distract yourself by worrying about all the possibilities that could happen.”
Mel seemed lost for words, her mouth open as she processed his answer. Ajax focused on his routine and tried to drown out the background distractions, the rhythmic chanting and heady smell of so much body odour. His movements quickened until his body started to leap and twirl through the air, his mind detached from his bodies actions. It took a while until he was aware that Mel had spoken again.
Ajax landed gracefully in a crouch, turning to face the woman. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.” he said, panting heavily.
“What is it you did to end up in prison?” asked Mel, a slight hesitancy in her voice as she repeated the question.
“I broke into a man's house in an attempt to steal from him, but ended up killing the man. The police showed up before I had a chance to escape.”
Mel stepped closer, craning her neck to look into his eyes. She stood like that for a few moments before turning away. “I don't know why you felt like lying to me, so whatever your secret is I won't press for it.”
Ajax didn't let her see his shock, instead he turned away to finish his stretches. Mel remained silent, still watching but without questioning him further. Ajax was glad for the relative silence, for he knew his match would not be long from starting and his heart-rate was still racing in his chest.
A slight sheen of sweat coated his skin and glistened in the light by the time he was finished, his breathing once more calmed as he relaxed. Ajax looked up and took a little pleasure in Mel's stare, he found her blushing amusing and a little complimentary.
“So what was your crime? I don't have you pegged as the violent type, so I can't see murder being your thing.” said Ajax.
“My husband ran up some serious debts, my businesses were going under and someone approached me with a way to make some money. It was stupid of me to try and save my possessions at the risk of my own freedom. We converted my factory to produce drugs, the operation got out of hand and I was caught in the act. I am here because I made the wrong choices, just like everyone else.”
“It would be a lie if I said that I am not surprised, I did not see you as a drug kingpin. What happened to your husband? Is he in here as well?” asked Ajax.
“He took what little money I had left and made off with a younger woman; it doesn't get more clichéd than that. It turned out she was just after his credits, her own husband robbed then killed mine. Maybe I'll find that murderer in here,” she started to smile, “it would be nice to shake his hand.”
Ajax let out a hearty laugh, which she echoed. He had Mel all wrong and was glad they had shared stories, even if his had been only a half truth. As much as he wished to trust Mel, now was not the time to have his motives revealed for fear of word spreading.
He actually felt closer to someone in the prison, which he had purposefully avoided for so long. Ajax knew before his arrival that it would only be him who escaped. Any friends he made in here would not be for life. Whenever he dwelt on the thought before sleep finally took him Ajax felt a great anger and frustration build up; it had been a mistake to get so close to others here.
A cheer came from the crowd behind them, signalling one more fatality as a body hit the hard ground. It came as no surprise to Ajax when his name was called out, followed by the name Ira. He wasn't sure whether it belonged to a man or a woman, all he could do was hope he was in luck.
&nbs
p; Mel moved towards him but Ajax just gave her a brief smile before sidestepping the confused woman. He navigated through the crowd, passing many men and women who begun weighing him up with half crazed stares. Already he could hear the familiar call of odds, the exchange of food tokens with those that would gamble on people’s lives. As he stepped into the circle a man entered opposite him and relief washed over Ajax.
His first mistake was looking over for an announcer, awaiting a signal to start the fight. A punch at the base of his skull jarred his body, the follow up almost connected as Ajax recovered and spun, knuckles glancing his cheek. He stepped backwards and started to circle Ira, studying his opponent’s movements and nursing his aching skull.
As he stepped sideways in a lazy orbit Ajax watched on as his opponent mirrored him, all except for the intermittent misstep. It was barely noticeable, Ira had certainly learnt to hide it, or perhaps the injury was almost healed. Ajax realised it was caused by the pause from Ira's right ankle, the slightest hint of a limp was definitely a weakness he could exploit.
Ajax feinted to the right, watching Ira shift his weight back to his injured ankle and the repressed grimace that flashed across his face. Ajax kicked out, swiping both legs from under Ira and sending him the ground. A hard stomp came down on the injured ankle, followed by a pain riddle scream. He straddled the downed man, sending a juddering right cross that burst Ira's nose and followed it with a left that split skin on his cheek.
Ira wasn't done just yet, he threw up a block that saw Ajax's third punch deflected, kicking his left foot into Ajax's chest and throwing him clear. Ajax was a lot faster back on his feet and caught Ira's raising head with a sharp knee that sent him in a twisting arc back to the ground.
Blood covered Ira's face, his breaths came in big gulps as he struggled to recover; Ajax did not give him the chance. He drove a knee into the man's chest, pinning him down as he threw punch after punch into the already bloodied Ira. By the time he stopped the face was just pulp, blood bubbled from the ruined mouth and two whispered words slipped out.
“Kill me.”
The words cut straight through Ajax, it was the last thing he had expected the man to say. As his racing heart calmed down Ajax could finally hear the chanting crowd all around him, his rage had drowned out all noises. Why did he enjoy the violence so much? In that moment he hated the spectators for taking so much pleasure in death. It reminded him too much of himself.
Ajax knew that the man was beyond repair, he had to finish what he started and honour Ira's last request. He slid a hand under the man's head, lifting Ira towards him. With the swiftest of movements Ajax twisted the head, severing his spinal cord and ending Ira's life. He lowered the dead man down gently, seeing for the first time just how young he looked in death. Ira had seemed grizzled, perhaps from his time in prison. Now the parts of his face that were still identifiable appeared serene, relaxed and youthful in death. He was barely a man. The fight left Ajax hollow; his mind would be occupied with his actions tonight.
Cheers and cries of anguish erupted instantly, a thousand voices combined to deafen him. An announcer stepped into the ring and pushed something into Ajax's hands, shouting over the din to leave the circle and make room for the next fight. By the time he turned around the body was gone. He did not want to think what would happen to Ira's corpse.
Ajax opened his palm; ten food tokens looked back, judging him. Ten? That was the worth of a man's life in this living hell?
Mel's face was an O of horror, the expression just made Ajax think more about what he had done a few moments ago. The feeling was new to him; guilt welled up inside, a heavy weight over his heart.
“Are you injured, Ajax?” asked Peter, his voice sounding distant.
“No, I'm all right. Let's get out of here, I need to get back to our cave. I can't stay here any longer.” Ajax shook his hands, splattering the ground with a dead man's blood.
They walked in silence, every step further from the cavern dimmed the volume fractionally until at last the crowd could not be heard any more. As Ajax relaxed once more and allowed his body to go into automatic pilot all he could think about were the faces of every person he had killed. He had to really focus to picture them, but he could remember each one since his first day on Konar.
Every face had something in common, he thought; I only killed those that threatened me or my friends. I killed to protect myself and others, from people who would not hesitate to kill me first. I never killed on a job unless they were attempting to harm me. Hiro had been his first assassination contract, and even then the man had attacked him first. Ira would have killed him if I didn't fight back, so why did the man's death bother him so much?
Peter and Mel left Ajax to his thoughts, wandering ahead of him in the tunnel and speaking softly with each other. Ajax had seemed even quieter than usual and his expression was full of pain when he stepped out of that ring; they knew not to trouble him yet. In their time with Ajax both had realised he could be a solemn man, if he wished to discuss whatever plagued his mind then he would in his own time. To push for information would only risk causing anger.
When they returned to the cave Ajax headed straight to his corner, changing from his shorts into warmer clothes before he laid down on his jacket. His last thoughts before drifting off to a troubled sleep were about the message he received off Greg as he stepped out of the prisons soul sapping grip.
We haven't found a power source big enough for the camouflage system, there are still options we have not explored. Don't kill Joel before I update you. Stay strong, stay alive - Greg
Ilya's fingertips ran over defined abdominal muscles, tracing light circles on the tanned skin. She took great pleasure in watching him squirm, fully in the knowledge of just how ticklish Henry was.
“You look so much younger when you grimace, Mr Steel. It's nice to see you acting your age and relaxing for once, no sign of boring paperwork making your forehead wrinkle.”
Ilya lay on her side, one leg covering both of Henry's whilst his arm acted like a pillow for her head. For the first time in her life Ilya felt content laying with someone. It was far too easy to sleep at his side, she felt warm and happy only in his company. She struggled to believe such feelings existed. Was this true happiness, perhaps even love?
“You know what that does to me, you evil monster. Do you tickle me just for your own amusement?” he asked, leaning over to plant a light kiss on her forehead.
Ilya moved her hand away from his sensitive chest, placing it on his shoulder and pressing down so he could not move away. They kissed again, more passion behind it this time, tongues intertwined. Henry moved, she did not resist and he effortlessly pushed Ilya until she lay down on the bed.
Whilst he moved over her Henry started tracing kisses leading down from her sensitive neck. The little gasps that synchronised with each kiss were music to his ears, if Ilya could have seen his face she would have laughed at his mischievous grin. Her skin was hot on his lips, their hours in bed leaving both superheated and sweaty. Neither had wanted to leave the comfort and they had dozed throughout the day.
Once he had found his way down to her hips Henry started placing kisses on her inner thigh, moving inwards with each subsequent kiss, feeling the tremor running through her body on impact. He was really enjoying himself.
With the torture done Henry moved in for the kill, starting with gentle licks of his tongue that built up her pleasure. His grip tightened, pushing her bucking hips into the soft mattress in an effort to keep her still. Ilya was cursing him, her moans only acting as further encouragement. Finally his tongue delved in when her sex was ready to explode. Her scream echoed around the room as the orgasm rocked Ilya's entire body, she shook herself free of his strong grip as her abdominals contracted, sitting her up.
Henry was sure her thighs were going to crush his head, the force was unbearably strong as Ilya's legs wrapped around him, both hands grinding his head on her sex. The pressure fast turned to pain and he was about
to prise her legs off him when Ilya finally relaxed, the force gone as she lay back on the bed with a huge grin on her face. Ilya let out a long, content sigh.
The taste in his mouth was beyond erotic, Henry had to have her right now. He moved up, Ilya thought he was going in for the kiss and tried to raise her head to meet his. Her eyes bulged at the shock as he entered her, practically throbbing inside. When they finally met it was a deep kiss, Ilya as turned on as Henry at her own taste.
Their lovemaking was loud, frantic and primal. Ilya felt that warm feeling build again in her stomach, she was shocked that it could happen again so fast. She looked at Henry's face and saw the lust and animal urges behind them, he was so close to climaxing. With what little strength she had left Ilya managed to roll them over, straddling Henry and riding him out, starring into his eyes as he reached his orgasm simultaneously with her.
Their bodies were slick with sweat, their chests heaving in unison for much needed air. Ilya had no energy left and collapsed on top of Henry; no words of complaint came from her lover. They lay like that for several minutes, Ilya resting her head on his chest and listening to his strong heartbeat begin to slow down. She did not want the moment to end.
Eventually Ilya conceded and moved off her man, the feeling as he pulled out was strangely satisfying. Ilya gave Henry one last kiss before making her way to the bathroom, this time leaving him with an inane grin on his face. He watched the woman as, on shaky legs, she disappeared from sight.
To call Henry's dwellings a house would be underselling it, the place was a mansion and the first Ilya had seen in her entire life. His bedroom alone was almost as big as the Haven's dining area, the bathroom bigger than Ilya's entire room.
She had taken her first solo bath here, the feeling of having enough time to just stop and soak her body in hot water was as alien as Henry's world. In the orphanage she had been lucky if the communal bath water was warm without being heated by piss.