Programmed Love

Chapter Six: The Arena

'Where am I?'

'How'd I get here?'

'What am I wearing?'

'Where is my bag?'

     At that thought, I sprang from the soft surface I'd been resting on. My eyes were still adjusting to the lack of light in the room, but the outline of a window could be seen to the left of what seemed like a bed. Swinging my legs over the side, I rubbed my eyes before shuffling towards the window. My muscles were stiff, and a yawn escaped my throat. I wasn't fully awake yet, so I wasn't quite as alert, but I noticed the flooring was wooden, and the space I was in was quite small. The room couldn't have been more than twelve paces across.

     Moving the cotton-like curtain to the side, the bright light of day flooded into the room. Scanning over it with my still drowsy eyes, I deduced that it seemed to be a small cabin made of wood. The window showed a world outside covered in greenery, which wasn't a thing I was accustomed to. Grass covered the ground with a cobblestone pathway weaving between the trees, even a few woodland creatures were playing in the underbrush. 

     'Orson! Where is he?! Where's my little woolly bear?" I mentally screamed as I began tearing the room apart. I walked to the dresser, ripping the drawers out and scattering the clothes across the floor. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest as I tore the mattress from the bed, dropping to my hands and knees to check beneath the bed frame. Small pants left my parted lips as a crazed look filled my eyes. I had to find that bag.

      Scrambling to the door, I rattled the door knob. The stupid piece of brass was holding me within the confines of this room, alone and partially afraid. Backing up into a fighting stance, I braced myself before swinging my leg up in an attempt to kick the door down. A shocking pain ran up my leg and sent white dots into my vision as I realized the door was sturdier than wood should have been. Stumbling back a few steps to regain my balance, I looked closer at the door. The shadow of my figure stood against the door, obscuring part of my vision, but there was enough light to see the pieces of paint that had worn away to show a metal door. A small dent had been put into the door from my attempt at kicking it down.

     Bending down to rub my sore ankle, I realised my legs were bare. Well, bare to the point of my mid-thigh. My black outfit that had always covered any sensitive flesh had been replaced with mid-thigh length, black spandex shorts. The scars littering my legs were visible in the morning light, and I noticed my black combat boots were also nowhere to be seen. The shirt I had on was also far from my own, consisting of a black, stomach-showing, tank top. It fell a little farther in the back section, reaching the end of the small of my back. A look of disgust filled my face seeing so much of my own skin in such an outfit. Locating the mirror on the wall, I scanned the outfit. The tank-top was flowy and could easily be snagged on a stick, or any other jutting out object. A small, cyan breast-pocket was also clearly visible on the top, standing out proudly against the black. Turning around, I caught a glimpse of cyan letters across the back. Scrunching up my face, I adjusted the shirt as to be able to read it.

   225TH ARENA ANNIVERSARY #13

     My eyes widened. This couldn't be happening. Not now. First my bag was missing, now this. My world seemed to slow, my head started to spin. It was too much. I should never have taken Hanna under my wing. I should still be out in the world, scavenging for food, exploring with Orson. Even if I manage to survive the Arena, I'll be trapped in a village of other champions, never allowed to leave. I would never be able to avenge my parents. Hell, I didn't even know where the key went! A headache was beginning to wrack my brain. I needed out of this room. 

     Turning towards the window, I searched for a latch.

     'That's stupid, Val. They'd never allow a way out. Meaning no way to open the window. Think of something else,' I mentally told myself. Searching the room for something heavy, my gaze landed on a lamp beside the destroyed bed. It lay, overturned, on the floor with the cord limply by its side. Picking it up, I grabbed it by the the top near the bulb like a baseball bat, and swung with all my might at the glass. Sparks flew away from the glass, causing the scenery to glitch. 

      'What in the-'

     "GET BY THE DOOR, NUMBER 13!" Came a furious robotic voice on the other side of the door followed by three bangs against the door that echoed throughout the room. Dropping the lamp, I gulped down the saliva building up in my mouth and looked back to the 'window' which was nothing more than a screen designed to mimic a forest scenery. Deciding to follow orders instead of rebelling when I had no weapon beside the lamp to aid me in an attack, I moved towards the door.

     When I was nearly a foot away from the door, it swung outwards to reveal the menacing stature of a silver robot dressed in a general's military uniform. Nothing was done to make this automaton look human, and a sniper hung behind its shoulders. Looking past its shoulder revealed a desert landscape that eventually faded away into a wavering mass of sand. The heat hit me even harder than the robot's appearance, and I finally understood why my outfit was so skimpy. It was the only thing suitable for the weather. At least the robot's cared enough to dress someone properly before sending them to their death. Or maybe they did it so I wouldn't die from a heat stroke instead of by the hands of another.

     "An obedient little Mush, I see. Well, we'd better hurry. I'm a little behind as it is, and those blood-lusting creatines beneath me don't like waiting," his gruff voice spoke again. Placing his hand around the back of my neck, he pinched and started pushing me forward. A semi could just barely be seen in the distance, and even from how far away we were, I could already hear the screams contained within it. Surprisingly my hands hadn't been bound, but it'd be dumb to retaliate at this current moment. There was nowhere to run, unless I managed to steal the semi, but I had no idea where I was, and I was clueless on what to do with all the others in the vehicle.  

     "I'm surprised you haven't ran yet, Mush. Most would have been bolting for the sand dunes by now. I could see the intelligence within ya though, I knew you were smarter than that. There's a tracker in that pretty little arm of yours anyway, but not only does it track, it also can shock ya if I hit the right button. Would you like to experience it?" I could hear the smirk in his voice. A frown visibly formed on my visage. I couldn't shake my head, his grip on my neck was too tight, and I couldn't speak my opinion either.

     "You're a quiet one. It'll be pleasing to hear your screams in the Arena, but there's nothing to say that I can't have a little preview," he said, removing his grip from my neck and retrieving something from his breast pocket. A small 'beep' was heard before an excruciating pain shot up my right arm. I was quickly brought to my knees, cradling my arm like a child. It still stung, causing tears to fill my vision. I'd never experienced an internal pain such as that, and the demented robot behind me seemed displeased.

     "Hmm, unsatisfactory. Why do you not scream like the rest of them? SPEAK, MUSH!" He yelled at me, raising his hand and blocking out the sunlight from my eyes as if to slap me. Building up spit in my mouth, I spat before his feet with a glare. He brought his hand down, but I was quicker than that. I dodged to the left, gripping his fist within my own and yanking down bringing the automaton to his knees. Standing, I brushed the sand off my legs while the robot gained his bearings. At first he seemed ready to get into a full-on brawl with me, but then he opened his gaping hole of a mouth and laughed a nasty sound like metal grinding together. 

     "Maybe you'll last longer than I thought. Oh well, that's enough of a break for you. Get moving," he said, this time taking the rifle off his back and pressing it into my spine. I continued walking, my arm still throbbing slightly. I'd have to remove that tracker/shocker/whatever it is from my arm later. It would only lead to trouble.

     We made it to the semi eventually, and the yelling only got louder. "Help" and "Let me out" were the only words that were possible to make out in the noise. Grabbing a key from another pocket, the robot hit the back of the semi to silence whoever was in there before he unlocked the padlock and lifted the back, allowing me room to get in. Giving me a nudge, I got the message and shimmied into the vehicle, barely being given enough time before he slammed the back down, nearly smashing my fingers.

     "Number thirteen, interesting. I think that's the highest number. You may be the last one," a masculine voice said. Turning around, I was met with three other faces, all of whom seemed unfamiliar. The one that talked had dark brown skin with black eyes and black hair cut so short it could hardly be seen. The only clothing covering him was khaki shorts, and sandals upon his feet. He had a staggering height, nearly around 6' 11", and seemed to be purely African descent. His muscular arms were crossed over his well-built chest, and he was one of the most intimidating humans I'd ever seen. 

     "She's a pretty little thing, it's such a shame she ended up here," came a softer voice. A woman with sun-burnt skin and hair so blonde it appeared white was standing in the corner with a sunhat upon her head. She had pinkish eyes, and burn scars across her skin. She was wearing clothing similar to mine, except her color was pink instead of cyan, and she had a full tank-top. Judging by the wrinkles that were appearing on her face, she was roughly in her late 40's, but she seemed strong enough to last a few minutes against the giant that spoke before her. She also had a paw-print above her heart, and a strange feeling of deja vu appeared.

     "How'd you end up here? You don't seem very strong, a little malnourished even. You also have no tribal marking, so you aren't a sacrifice," pointed out another girl, only she seemed more closer to my age. She had a deeper, Russian-like accent. Midnight black hair was pulled into a high bun atop her head, and pine green eyes stared at me behind long black eyelashes. Her skin was pale, but was taking on a pink tint due to being in the desert. The color she had was a neon green, but she didn't seem as muscular as the other two. 

     I pointed towards my throat like I had to do so often lately, and signaled my predicament on speaking. An even more curious look appeared on the African male's face. They were the only three in the semi, and it seemed incredible that they were the cause of such a ruckus. Upon closer inspection though, there were signs of fatigue. The Russian woman had dark bags beneath her eyes, and her arms hung limp at her sides. The African male was visibly slouching, and was slightly trembling. Putting on a tough guy act. The older woman, however, seemed in perfect condition, until you noticed the bandage around her leg with a circle of blood seeping through. 

     "If you'd be so kind, can you stop inspecting us. It's slightly unnerving," said the Russian. I hadn't noticed my staring since it didn't matter much how polite I was out in the world. No one cared if you were staring if they were trying to kill you. Casting my gaze downward, shuffling of feet caught my attention once more. I didn't know these people. All I knew was we were all going to the Arena. These people weren't my friends. Maybe they were trying to take me out already while I was preoccupied. 

    Bringing my leg up, I did a roundhouse move, knocking whoever was coming my way onto their butt. Quickly looking to the other two still standing, I noticed a smirk on the Russian's face, and the other woman was standing off the wall and wincing as she walked closer to check on the male I had successfully taken down. Gingerly stepping backwards, I ended up against the back of the semi, glancing from one face to the next.

     "Oh...I underestimated you, girl. It's been a little while since someone's managed to pose a threat to me. No hard feelings though," he said with a slight chuckle. His head had hit the ground pretty hard, and a small trickle of blood was running from his nose. Slowly, he stood with the help of the older woman. Waving his large hand in my direction, he introduced himself as Jabari.

    "Zahra is my name, hun. I'm sorry we have to meet on such unfortunate circumstances," the older lady said. She was wiping the blood from Jabari's nose and tearing off a bit of the gauze and cotton from her leg to stop the blood flow. I looked expectantly towards the Russian girl, but she merely smirked at the scene.

     "We're going to be in this vehicle for awhile. You might as well get comfy, thirteen," the green-eyed girl said, sitting down on a recliner And surveying the room before shutting her eyes with that same smirk upon her full, black-painted lips.

                                           ·                    ·                     ·

     I didn't sleep a wink in front of the unique group of people. The bumpy ride was pleasant, the gentle swaying back and forth was lulling, but I couldn't get my mind off Orson, Hanna, Genni, Charlie, and my bag. I had no idea where they were taken. All I could hope was that they ended up in a better circumstance than what I was in. 

     The semi had finally stopped, and the lack of movement woke Zahra, Jabari, and the Russian girl. I could hear the robot moving outside the vehicle, and the silly thought of why we weren't driving in some elaborate transportation crossed my mind. We were most likely going to our death, living in a mechanical age, so why were we stuck in a rinky dink semi?

     A loud bang brought me back to reality as the automaton slid open the back and let real light inside. I'd been on the side of the vehicle, and I had to bring my hand to my eyes to block out the harsh rays. Standing up and stretching my aching muscles, the other three did the same. Walking to the edge of the ledge, the robot general offered me a hand, but I waved it off and jumped down, landing perfectly on my feet. We'd arrived in front of a building that went so high it seemed to be a skyscraper, and looking around the edges, a large, circular limestone arena could be seen. This was our destination. 

     "Number 2, your door is the white one. That's where you'll be allowed to 'prepare' yourself before your...gaming experience," the robot slyly said, gesturing Jabari away. "11, yours is the pink one. You'll have a bit of a longer wait, but I'm sure time will seem to fly," he said, staring at the clipboard in his hand. "Aradella, you know where to go, which leaves...Ah yes, the lovely 13. Your room is the cyan one. It was specially picked for you. You'll be the last one, but I'm rooting for you, Unknown."

     I nodded my head with a grimace, and walked forward, quickly locating the cyan door.

    "Oh, and, Unknown," he said," knock  'em dead."

     I hadn't turned around, if I would have seen his disgusting metallic face, I would have ripped it off.  I'd merely stopped to signify I was listening. The cyan door was pretty, with a pretty marble door knob that made no sound as I opened the door. Inside, the room was rather simplistic, with the exception of the wall completely filled with weapons. Blades of every type and size filled up one half, and guns littered the other half. Brass knuckles and gauntlets filled up part of the table, and the other part was filled with tools. A medicine cabinet held steroids and other drugs aimed to enhance performance, and a bed sat in the other side. A pencil and paper sat patiently on a desk with a chair in front along with a desk lamp.

     'No one for me to write to, I'm not tired, and I'm definitely not taking any drugs. Which leaves examining the weapons,' I thought, carefully gazing at the weapons, as if staring at them the wrong way would cause harm to myself. I didn't want to kill anyone, but I don't think people are given that choice in the Arena. It's practically a gladiator fight. 

     Stepping closer to the dangerous wall, I realized only one bullet for every g*n was given for ammo, and it would be very difficult to carry multiple guns out there. Only one handgun was provided. A simply pistol, without a sight to aim of course. They didn't want to see a g*n fight. They wanted blood, and lots of it. The light caught the blades perfectly, sending off a rainbow of death. A very simplistic pocket knife was what appealed to me. I grabbed it off the wall, weighing its weight in my hand, getting a feel for it, then swung it around a bit. It would do. I also decided to go with silver knuckles for my right hand. I put the pistol in my waistband, and went to sit on the bed. If I was going to win, I was going to win with items that fit me.

    "Welcome, everyone, to the 225th Annual Arena Game! Today, we have a very special group of people, thirteen of them to be exact. We will play it in a King's Court sort of way. Our first contestant will go against the second, then whoever wins from there will play against the third, then fourth, and so on until we get to our final thirteenth. They've been provided weapons in their shelter, all benefiting towards their style, and will be able to choose as many as they'd like. Whoever wins will be crowned champion and taken to the safe town to live out the rest of their life in comfort and relaxation. Let's have us a fair fight, and may the best human win. Please welcome, number one: Daniel Quartz, and number two: Jabari Ali!"

   The sound of the announcer had been so loud I could hear it rattling through my walls. The announcer, strangely, had sounded feminine.  It was followed by a deafening cheer from the crowd, and the bloodbath had begun. In my head, I was silently cheering for Jabari. The entire time, I sat on the bed, sharpening my knife to calm my nerves. The wait was terrible. I couldn't go out there a nervous wreck, I wouldn't last a minute.

      Maybe half an hour passed before the blood-crazy cheering began. One of them must have finally won. Then finally, the announcer came on, stating round two was about to start, with contestant two and three.

     'So Jabari won, thank you whoever's listening,' I mentally said in my gratitude. I hadn't known him very well, but I'm glad someone I knew at least won something in their life. 

     This process continued for a few hours. The announcer came on, stated the round and the players, then the cheering began anew. It was all going normally, until the numbers two and eleven came on. That match must have lasted the longest by far, and what's even worse, the crowd was silent. The silence soon turned deafening until I couldn't take it anymore. Right as I was about to beat on the wall just to create my own noise, the crowd erupted even louder than they had before. 

   "And that, my friends, is what I call an amazing match. Number two finally met his end. Terrific job, Zahra. Let's see if you can keep it up in our second to last round. I give you, Number Eleven and Number Twelve!"

    And the crowd went wild. I couldn't believe that huge man had been defeated by that little old woman. Maybe it was pity, maybe it was skill, maybe he was just too tired. I would never know. At least Zahra was still alive. But this meant I was next. My anxiety skyrocketed once more, and dread filled my soul. 

     The knock on my door nearly gave me a heart attack, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Making sure the g*n was tightly on my waist, the silver knuckles were secure on my fist, and the knife was comfortably in my left hand, I opened the door. The sun had gone down long ago, leaving only the lights of the Arena and the moon shining.

     "It's almost your turn, thirteen," said the General robot. He grabbed my arm, and we were off on our way towards the entrance. Right before we reached the entrance, we took a sharp turn to the left, causing me to give a suspicious glance at the robot. I didn't trust him.

     "Haha, don't look at me like that. You get a special entrance. Partially because you're the last one, partially because you're you," the General said. Where we ended up looked just the same as every other entrance. Doubt filled my mind, and I unconsciously squeezed the hilt of my pocket knife. Another wave of cheers filled the Arena as a splash of blood landed in my line of sight. I'd never seen blood so red.

    "Ah, good show, good show. I would have never guessed that outcome. But this brings us to the final conclusion. Our lovely number thirteen is waiting just outside, and I must warn you all, she's a feisty one for her appearance, but don't be startled when you can't find anything on her. This little creatine has managed to stay off our radars her entire life. Let's hope this isn't the last dance the unknown one faces. Ladies and Gentlebots, I give you, Number Twelve and Number Thirteen!"

    The crowd roared to life once more as the General pushed me into the Arena, shutting the door behind me. The bright lights of the Arena caused me to squint my eyes, barely able to see due to the light shining off so many robots' metallic skins. Looking up into the announcer's box, the Russian girl who had rode with me here gave me a smirk...but she wasn't just up there. She had announced the entire thing, no accent, nothing. Her clothes now consisted of what a royal would wear. A golden headdress lay upon her head, while a huntress dress rested upon her body colored with dark blues. From the light illuminating her, her hair had a blue glow, unlike the pure black I had thought it to be.

    Now looking straight ahead of me, a lanky boy stood with a mace in his hand. He looked barely strong enough to hold it. His skin was tinted a sickly yellow, and his aquamarine eyes, hidden behind round glasses, appeared sunken into his hollowed cheeks. I didn't know how he'd managed to win. He seemed like he'd faint at any moment. His hair was brown, splats of red littered it, as well as droplets that landed on his face. He had only khaki shorts on, but he was nowhere near as buff as Jabari was. Speaking of which, all the bodies since the beginning still lie around the Arena. There was hardly a speck of sand that hadn't managed to be dyed red. 

     "You're a cutie...it'll be a shame when your insides decorate this sand. Maybe they'll let me keep you after I win. I'll take good care of you, how does that sound, Sugar?" The boy's voice asked with a slight wheeze. This boy was obviously sick, in more ways than one. But with what he just told me, I felt less remorse for having to kill him. Shaking my head to signify 'no' I slowly tiptoed closer. 

     "Why so quiet, doll face? Cat got your tongue?" He said, slightly shaking. Almost like he was holding in a cough. I'd be putting him out of his misery. Getting closer yet, the boy stopped moving with a curious gaze before shaking his head and running straight on to meet me.

     I side-stepped the mace as he swung down, bringing my hand with the knife around and just barely grazing his shoulder. A look of surprise crossed his face as he sneered, showing off teeth that had been sharpened to shark-like points. He hadn't gotten any injuries from his last fight based off his flawless skin. Coming at me again, this time he swung the mace at my legs, making me jump without enough time to counterattack. The cheers of the crowd had been blocked out as all I played attention to was staying alive. Like a bull, he came at me again, but this time, he swung the mace overhead, and threw it. I had no time to dodge, earning me a hard hit to the stomach from the handle, which knocked the breath out of me. At least the spiked end hadn't hit me. I couldn't recover my breath in the time it took him to knock me down, straddling my sides with his hands around my throat.

    "I'm gonna use this reward money to live. I'm dying anyways, my parents will be so proud of me. Their baby boy, finally able to make a difference in the world. I'll give the money to them. They'll need it more," he said through gritted teeth. A look of sorrow crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by the madness once more. He'd pinned my arms down with his knees, and I was trapped. It was impossible to buck him off, I was too weak to flip him. I hadn't eaten in too long.

     Just as the light started fading away, the boy started to cough, it was a violent wracking and convulsion of his chest, then blood sprayed from his mouth onto my face. His grip faltered for a moment, and that was all I needed. Bracing myself, I jerked my head up to meet with the boy's, dazing him with the sudden contact. A fierce pain coursed through my head, but I wasn't ready to die without Orson, or knowing what that key was for.

    The tables had turned. I was now straddling him, his hands reaching up to wrap around my throat once more. Moving out of his reach, I punched him across the face, causing more blood to come from his mouth. Teeth were spat out, and more blood landed on my skin. I brought the knife to his throat, desperately trying to end it quickly, but he wasn't done fighting. He placed his hand around the blade and pushed back, the blade making a sickening sound as it slid through his fingers. I couldn't handle it. I jumped off him, leaving the knife, and grabbing out the g*n from my waist band. A wave of nausea filled my head and caused everything to go wavy, but I took aim anyways. He almost got up...almost. 

    I pulled the trigger, and it shot him straight in the jugular. He wouldn't survive that. There was no way. Yet he clung to life. It was agony watching him. For a minute and a half, he lay there, sputtering and trying desperately with animal instinct to cover the hole, keep the blood in, but it didn't work. A tear left my eye. He'd only been trying to help his family. He was trying to do his duty. It shouldn't have ended like this for him, but it was me or him. Me or him.

    I was the last thing he saw before his eyes went lifeless. His struggles stopped, and his muscles went limp in exception of the occasional muscle spasm. The sound of the crowd suddenly came back to me. So did the announcer, but I couldn't really hear them. My mind was in slight shock. I was nauseous, I hadn't eaten, there was so much blood, pools of it. If I had anything in my stomach, that's when it came out. My ears started ringing. The bright lights became too much, I had to squeeze my eyes shut.

"And this concludes our 225th Annual Arena Game! Number 13, Unknown, is our official champion! Congratulations!-"

    Nothing was heard after that. Not by me. That's when the world started spinning too fast for me to keep up. I lost control of my muscles, and I fell to the bloodsoaked sand, the cool desert night easing my slumber. The last thing I saw was the face of a man with the fairest white skin, cyan eyes, and turquoise hair, but the last thing I felt was the male's soft hands wrapped around my back, just barely stopping my descent into a b****y madness.