Chapter 10.A

“Hank!... Hank!... Hank wake up you son of a bitch!” Hank could hear shouting and the clashing of steel. He felt sun on his face and idly wondered if he had passed out from heat exhaustion working in the gravel yard.

“HANK MOVE!” Hank’s eyes snapped open just in time to see a boot coming down towards his face. The memories flew through him, particularly the one where he had just died this same way to a mammoth’s foot. Not Again. He rolled to the side and the foot hit the rocky sand where he had just been. He looks up at what can only be described as a gladiator. It’s a man about five feet tall covered in random pieces of leather armor. In one hand he idly spins a net and in the other he has a short sword. On his head he wears a helmet that reminds Hank of the Crusaders back on earth.

Earth… He was clearly not there now. Jimmy was next to him swinging a short sword himself as two gladiators took random swings at him and pushed him backwards. Jimmy was also dressed as a gladiator... The man, well creature, alien maybe, who had tried to smash Hank’s face in threw his net. Hank grabbed it out of the air and it wrapped around his arm a bit. The net was obviously built for smaller opponents. Hank shook the net off and walked towards the thing in the gladiator armor. He had to finish this quickly, Jimmy needed his help. Looking at the creature now reminded Hank of a zombie from earth folklore. It had mottled and wrinkly green skin, and black eyes below its helmet. As Hank got closer the gladiator took a few probing swings at him. The sword looked extremely sharp and Hank made sure to step back as it swung.

It was a dirty move that Hank had in mind, but he didn’t really have many other options. He reached down and grabbed a handful of the loose rocky grit below him and threw it into the gladiator’s face. The gladiator spun his head to stop it from entering his eyes but that was the only opening Hank needed. He stepped in and grabbed the creatures sword-bearing arm with one hand and the straps running across the creature’s chest with his other hand. Using the strength of his neck and arms he pulled the creature towards him and unleashed a head-butt with the desperation someone can only have when a friend or loved one is in trouble. Despite the gladiator being helmeted the blow still dazed him and dented his helmet in, locking it into place at an angle where his eyes wouldn’t line up with the viewing slot. His vision was now obscured. Hank dropped the man into the sand and pried his short sword out of his hands.

Hank being awesome at throwing stuff decided his best course of action was probably to throw stuff. He picked the gladiator attacking Jimmy that looked the most energetic and threw the short sword. The sword glanced off of the gladiator’s upper thigh scoring a light gouge. Hank started running straight at him. This gladiator was also in the five-foot range height wise, and seeing Hank the giant rushing at him like a charging bull was all the incentive he needed to retreat. The other gladiator still attacking Jimmy hadn’t turned around to see Hank yet. So Hank held his arm out like a clothesline from hell and clipped his neck in his sprinting pursuit for the one still retreating. The clothesline technique flipped the gladiator attacking Jimmy straight onto his back and Jimmy took the opportunity to stab downwards into the alien’s abdomen.

Hank continued to chase the fleeing gladiator, but he was just a bit too quick for Hank to catch up. So Hank let him run and returned to Jimmy. Hank had a minute to check out his surroundings. He was in a giant circular pit with walls that were at least twenty feet tall of smooth stone, with the occasional portcullis to let in more gladiators here and there. Above the pit was a roaring crowd sitting in stands, drinking alien drinks and eating alien foods. One of the men in the stands was holding a small wriggling purple creature that reminded Hank of a gerbil. He ripped it in half, blue blood squirted in his face and he handed each half to kids on the left and right of him. The two kids greedily ate the small creature. Where the hell are we? Hank looked down at his own attire and realized he was wearing a leather skirt of some type and he had two leather pieces mounted on each of his forearms and shins. Besides that he was naked. The draft coming up the bottom of the skirt was quite alarming.

“What now Hank?” asked Jimmy as they went back to back.

“I don’t know man, I’m still trying to cope with the fact that I was killed by a mutant Woolly Mammoth.”

“Yeah sorry about that, I tried to stop it.”

“Are we in the game, this looks real as shit.”

“We are in the game, or maybe this is hell,” said Jimmy who was eyeballing the alien Hank had chased off. He was digging around in the sand and scavenging weapons.

“Hank, grab a weapon out of the sand!”

Hank took Jimmy’s advice and snatched up a shield and a spear. They both turned their attention on the gladiator who had ran. He was yelling into the crowd, specifically in the direction of a shaded box that held aliens in fine looking robes.

“I wish I knew what he was saying,” said Jimmy.

“He is telling them to grant him mercy by balancing the odds. He says it’s not fair that I am so big and have a partner, it would be like him versus three,” said Hank.

“How in the hell do you know what he is saying?”

“Oh, you know I just realized that wasn’t English. It’s an Arbiter thing, we can speak any language. I’m not even sure how that works yet.”

They didn’t have time to talk more because one of the large metal portcullis gates started to open. The loud clanking of the internal mechanism and chains that were lifting it drew everyone's attention, even those in the crowd. The archway went almost pitch black about ten feet in so no one could see what was coming. The crowd quieted waiting to see how many warriors would come out, and what kind of armaments they might bring. Hank heard someone in the crowd shout that they wanted to see a chariot. Loud screeching started echoing out of the archway, then many someones shouting in a harsh language. It wasn’t a language even Hank could make out it was more guttural authoritative noises like “YA, YA!” it reminded Hank of cattle herders back on earth.

Then everyone present saw the surprise that the aristocrats ruling the gladiatorial games had lined up. Three disturbing and raucous creatures that looked like a mutant wolf and a mutant lizard had had a one night stand were being prodded forward by a team of zombie-men-aliens bearing spears. As soon as they crested the edge of the archway entering the arena the portcullis slammed down separating the prodders from the creatures. The sniffed around and locked eyes on Hank, Jimmy, and the remaining zombie-man gladiator. The last gladiator started sprinting towards Hank and Jimmy at top speed while yelling something, this prompted the creatures to pursue.

“What’s he yelling?” asked Jimmy.

“He is saying team up, he is cool, he has a neutral aura,” said Hank.

The gladiator arrived a few seconds before the creatures. He spun and jumped and landed in line with Jimmy and Hank. He planted the butt of his spear in the sand and angled it downwards towards the creatures, this wasn’t his first rodeo. Hank emulated him, but had to crouch a bit due to his superior height. The creatures were too smart for that old trick though. They slowed down instead of impaling themselves on the impromptu spear blockade. They began to circle the three competitors. All three of them pointed their weapons outward each focusing on a beast and they all moved as the creatures stalked.

“Someone's going to have to make a move or the leaders up there are going to try to spice things up again,” said Jimmy.

“I think I could snap one's neck pretty quickly. We had an old junkyard dog when I was a kid who had free reign of the gravel yard. He was a mean son of a bitch and I wrestled him often,” said Hank.

“Let our friend here know when you move, I’ll keep the others off of you the best I can,” said Jimmy.

Hank barked the word ATTACK in the gladiator’s language and rushed the first wolf-lizard mutant. Hank hadn’t been lying, he had some serious dog wrestling skills. He quickly locked onto the thing’s neck narrowly dodging its teeth, and then made a jump for it’s back using the strength of his arms and the creature’s neck as a pivot device. The other two wolf-lizards tried to rush Hank to help their comrade, that was Jimmy’s cue. He rushed one himself, which was the only thing he could really do since the other creature was on the other side of Hank’s wrestling match. Jimmy started taking swipes at the beast hoping the last gladiator was handling the remaining creature. A loud cracking noise emanated off of Jimmy’s side along with a creature’s yelp, Hank had done it. Jimmy not wanting to be shown up threw himself into the fray even harder. Swiping and etching ever closer, the creature made many attempts to nip his arms, but Jimmy’s tall and skinny frame worked to his advantage as he shimmied and dodged.

Finally the creature Jimmy was whittling away at decided it had enough. It backed away from Jimmy and stopped trying to engage. Around this time Hank hopped on the last creatures back that was being kept busy by the gladiator trying to spear it. Hank ripped its head back which let loose a sickening crunch, and the beast with Hank still on its back fell into the dirt. Hank hopped off to rejoin his compatriots. The last wolf creature was at the far end of the arena yelping and licking its wounds. All three knew where to look next to get an idea of their fate. Their eyes turned towards the leader’s box.

“Fuck this noise, let’s end this spectacle,” said Hank who picked up one of the discarded spears. Hank looked to their new alien partner and barked something in his language, the alien let out a terse reply. Jimmy was confused until Hank filled him in.

“He is a slave, he will work with us if it means he has a chance at freedom. Follow my lead,” said Hank. Without further warning Hank lobbed the spear directly at the leader’s box pinning one of the aristocrats to his chair as the spear had flown directly through the alien’s chest. One of the other leaders stood up, an alien with blue skin, four arms, and tentacles for a beard. He shouted into the stadium. Hank was on it with his translation duties.

“He said kill them.”

Hank took the spear from the gladiator’s hand next to him and threw it as well killing the tentacle bearded alien.

“Dude, you have to teach me that,” said Jimmy. The gladiator next to Hank spoke in his native tongue again and Hank nodded at him. They walked over to the wall of the arena pit. Hank put his back against the wall and crouched a bit and then cupped his hands in front of him. The gladiator ran straight at Hank and jumped into Hank’s hands. Simultaneously Hank shoved and threw his hands up as hard as he could. He propelled the gladiator straight up into the arena stands.

“You next bud,” said Hank.

“But you will be trapped down here,” said Jimmy.

“Then the lesson we learned here is to always bring a ladder, this has been great Arbiter training. Are you going or what?” asked Hank.

“I’ll go, I’ll try to find a way to get you out of here.”

Hank crouched down a bit and cupped his hands once more. Jimmy did his best to copy the gladiator’s style and ran right for Hank’s cupped hands. He landed on them and jumped as hard as he could as Hank pushed upwards. He might have weighed more than the alien or he screwed the maneuver up because he only made it to the lip of the arena wall which he grabbed and held onto. Memories of his youth spent jumping walls flashed through him as he pulled his body up and over the rest of the way landing on his back in a puddle of someone’s spilled drink, well he hoped it was a spilled drink.

As soon as Hank had finished getting Jimmy over the wall, the sand and grit of the arena below him started to tremble. “Fuck what now...” The sand below him shifted and then it started to sink in a wide radius around him. Hank tried to run out of the area but the faster he ran the faster the sand below him began to fall away. The whole floor of the arena below him finally gave out. Hank jumped in a desperate attempt to hit the ledge of the area that was giving away. He landed on a semi-solid area that was still crumbling and tried to scrape his way upward. Everything he grabbed also broke away until finally there was nothing left to grab and he fell backwards. Gravity took him on an insanely long fall, he expected to land and die at any moment. Except he never landed, he just kept falling as the just before dusk light of the arena above him faded until he was falling through pitch black nothingness.

His fear of dying faded and gravity’s pull lessened until he stopped falling. The strange thing was, he was still in a pitch black area, and he was floating…

“What kind of metaphorical bullshit is this, am I supposed to be scared without a nightlight?” He lost track of time in the nothingness and went into introspection. His thoughts spiraled to Suzie, to Eugene, the man and woman he had almost accidentally killed at Town Hall. To some of the good times he had with his father. A memory he thought long lost and forgotten came slamming back into the forefront of his mind. He was 6 years old sitting in the passenger side of his dad’s old truck. He was so short he could barely see out of the window, and he had to push off with his hands to get the added height he needed to see the town flash by, but his little muscles couldn’t hold out for long so he had to repeat the process often. His dad wouldn’t let him kneel or take his seat-belt off in case of an accident.

His father had just made a very lucrative gravel deal and he was rife with extra cash that wouldn't last long once he paid some bills and had some of their equipment serviced. That didn’t dampen his mood though. Life is fleeting and you best take the small wins when you can, and you celebrate the fuck out of them! I love Rock and Roll by The Arrows came on the radio and his dad goofily played the air drums next to Hank as they drove, this made Hank laugh. His father pulled him into a new burger joint in town that was rumored to have the best shakes for 300 miles. He bought them both the largest size in chocolate. A pretty girl came out to their car and delivered the shakes to them through the truck’s window. Hank dug in with a spoon because the shake was too thick to drink through a straw. He was absolutely ruining his face with chocolate and getting it all over the interior of the car. Sitting there next to his dad with this awesome dessert and the neon of the restaurant’s flashy signs shining into the car was just about the best thing Hank has ever done he figured.

When he looked up at his father, he noticed his dad was crying. “Dad don’t be sad, I’m sorry about getting chocolate everywhere.”

“I’m not sad you big goof. I’m just happy,” said Hank’s father as he reached over and tussled Hank’s hair. Hank wasn’t sure what to say and his father could tell. His father always took advantage of teachable moments and never left Hank confused for long.

“When I was slogging through the muddy fields in Vietnam killing the bad guys I never imagined my life would turn out like this. Look at me now Hank. I’m a business owner with a wonderful son who also happens to be my best friend. I can provide for you like my father never provided for me. I can make you better than I ever was.” His father's eyes turned serious for a second and he gently stopped Hank from digging the spoon into the shake again.

“Listen Hank, and listen good. I need you to be better than me, I’ve seen your potential. You are capable of great things. My time is over, I’m past my prime. I’m here to steward in the next generation and leave the world better off than how I found it. You have a good heart, don’t let it go to waste. Help those in need when you can. Stop those who would do harm to others. Be humble and don’t take advantage of others. The world has enough shitheads, be better.

“Dad you said shitheads.”

“I know son, don’t copy me. Now give your dad a hug.”

“But dad I’ll get chocolate on you.”

“I don’t care,” said Hank’s father. He took the shake from 6-year old Hank and put it up on the dash. Then he unbuckled him and pulled him into a giant hug. Hank could smell the cigar his father had smoked earlier and the old spice his dad was wearing. The combined scent was a smell he thought of as the dad smell. He could feel his father's tears on his cheek.

His father whispered the reminder once more in softer yet more serious tone. “Be better than me. Take care of people. Never stop fighting for what’s right.”

Hank came back to reality, well virtual reality... He was still floating in the black. “Yes father,” he said to the universe. He hoped his dad was out there somewhere listening.