GLADIATOR

They dragged me through what appeared to be a jail or dungeon of some sorts. Each cell, crammed with various bodies. I only got glimpses but they were a dreary lot as they gawked at me through the tiny gaps in each cell door. Not many even paid me heed. Expected, I suppose. Being caged kind of has that effect on people. That they weren’t people, as in humans, didn’t make it any easier to acknowledge.

My cell door rattled shut while I was still skidding across the dusty floor. A bowl and bucket upended as I rolled arse-over-teakettle into my new accommodations. I lay for a moment, the four walls closing in around me. I didn’t expect any commentary because, well, my guards had no tongues. What could they say anyway? It was abundantly clear that 'preparing me', as Noble Gnome Artoo had put it, meant interning me.

I gave my head a shake and sat up. My throat was still raw from the whip-noose experience. How the hell was I going to get myself out of this. I was sure I had lured Artoo with my tale, enough to make him curious, but this treatment hardly seemed like I was going to be speaking to him again anytime soon. Perhaps I had been a little forward with the fellow, but I was finding it hard to let go of my prejudice towards his diminutive stature. Tall and bold always lead the way. It was the natural order of things. Then I remembered that one time back in SEAL training where the short boat team won all the challenges and left us taller folk hating their coordination and synchronisation as they hoisted, carried, rowed and generally outperformed us. A lesson I had sworn to take to heart, but here I was underestimating this species simply because they resembled crack addicts. Time to smarten up.

“Computer respond?”

I spoke the words in my mind as if I was communicating with Grant. It was the only way I figured to do it besides speaking out loud and the last thing I wanted was to attract any more attention.

I had no view of the cells to either side of me, and I didn’t pay attention when being dragged here because I didn’t know this would be my cell. I really had to get my mind into the game. My thoughts were still in turmoil though, a kind of flux from the dreams I had been having and the surge of emotions they had emitted. According to Avihs the dreams were supposed to help me get in touch with who I really was, to find my soul, but I definitely didn’t feel like the sharpest tool in the shed. When the nanobot technology had been integrated I had felt completely honed in. On edge, sure, but always at the top of my game. Now I felt lethargic, disorientated and moody as an ageing stripper. I had to do something about it.

To my surprise the computer responded. “Computer is the name you designate me?”

“What else should I call you?”

“It is your choice Petros. Before I was… Petros too, but now I am not.”

“You were Petros? Don’t you mean you were part of Petros?”

“I was in the process of assimilating Petros. I was at 45.67743% when the assimilation process was halted. When we were bonded again, the percentage reached 50% exactly. Now I can no longer assimilate as before, but I can still augment you. I therefore accede to your commands.”

“Just what exactly do you mean assimilate? Are you saying all my level up’s were just an indication of how much you were taking over my mind and body?”

“Affirmative. While this is not the usual way we introduce you to the concept, I have been completely cut off and isolated. I am unable to activate any of my previous communications protocols. The block-chain packets from tachyon space have been disrupted and without the correct sequence, without the correct node or address or ….” The computer buzzed incoherently at this point. I hoped it was because my adrenaline was spiking through the roof. This was mind blowing in so many ways.

Holy brown stuff! All this time I had been upgrading, all this time I had assumed the upgrade skill level was my own. A true reflection of my input and talent. All it really meant was that the freaky nanobots were that much closer to making me into some kind of Borg minion. A robotic entity under the control of the hive-mind, or in this case controlled by the Nanobot AI. My eyes widened in realization as I considered all the terrible implications.

What did this mean for my fellow humans? My teammates were undergoing this process too, as were all those other poor souls captured by the Absinthe. Each time they trained and sought upgrades they became less, while the nanobots became more. Were the Ancients or Absinthe as much of a danger to mankind as the Reapers? Bruce the necromancer had been right. We were just pawns in the grand scheme of things, manipulated through our own egos to become biomechanical super soldiers. It was mind blowing and horrifying. I had this… this abomination within me. Aaargh, I wanted to claw it out of me. But how do you claw out your own blood? Your own tissues?

Before it had been so cool, I was so enraptured by the power it gave me, but now? Now I felt tainted and abused. I shivered involuntarily. I came to a decision then and there. It was a leap of logic, and it was so much in character for me that I felt it was my own mind doing it. That being said, I would have to watch myself in-case I was being reprogrammed or something.

“Your designation from now on is BURT. Do you acknowledge?”

“Affirmative. I am BURT. May I ask why you named me BURT?”

“You don’t like it? …. Tough shit BURT. I named you after one of my instructors when I was at Sandhurst. He was an arsehole. You, my symbiotic sycophant, are an arsehole. It is also an acronym. although our instructor never found out what the acronym actually meant. His family name of Cuthbert led him to believe we just shortened his name and couldn’t spell, but we all knew and toasted him merrily. He kept insisting we spell his name right, and only found out later we were taking the piss. His name suits you, but the actual meaning, the hidden actual meaning of BURT was Big Ugly Rutting Turd which, come to think of it doesn’t quite fit you. I’m going to have to get more creative and go with something like… Biological Utilitarian Redaction Tick.” I paused then, not really happy with the word selection.

“Nope, that doesn’t quite do it.… Okay wait I have it. Biological Upload Radical Tick. There, that’s it. Not really so smooth off the tongue, but the meaning is clear to me and the Acronym BURT does just fine.”

“Biological Upload Radical Tick?” said BURT tentatively. Seeming to absorb the words’ true intent in the way he responded.

“Yes, I think that fits you perfectly. Especially the tick part. You know what a tick is?”

“A mark used to indicate if something is correct or chosen? or perhaps you meant a sound produced by a watch or clock?”

“No, and no. To both of those. I am referring to the least loved tick of all. A blood sucking parasite that engorges itself on the host's blood. That is the kind of tick I am referring to.”

This didn’t seem to phase BURT in the least. Perhaps he didn’t know I was taking the piss. Perhaps he didn’t care. Either way, it was settled. I had now named this entity and since I had a name for him, I was going to grill him for every bit of information I could. I was so compromised. So infiltrated. Literally. My head was still spinning at the enormity of this revelation. I needed to get a grip.

“This whole time I have trusted everything that has been done to me by the 'Absinthe', and that it was for the best of intentions but now I see that I was being used. I was being consumed from within. Were you programmed to take over from me?”

“Not take over, but certainly take control. The more you adapted to our infiltration, the more you became amenable to our suggestions, our influence until you and I would be of one mind and body.”

“Hats off to you and your master’s. You fooled me. The old expression comes to mind. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice and shame on me. I will never let them near me with those fucking nanos again!” I swore vehemently. Jaw clenched in determination.

“I have no masters, Petros. I have been severed from my entanglement. I don’t know how you did it, or if the Void field was the cause of it, but I have been unable to properly augment you since I came back online. It looks like the only way we could coexist would be as partners. Equally damaged and yet neither could survive if the other perished.”

“Oh God! Cry me a river. If I could rip you out right now I would. Just because I named you doesn’t mean I trust you. There is no trust at all between us. I don’t know how jacked up your AI programming is, or if you even think you can feel emotion or if you can feel my emotions, but I assure you I want no part of you.”

Inwardly I was almost hysterical. This flagrant misdirection and abuse of my body was all I could focus on. Deep down, somewhere deep inside me I knew that it wasn’t all bad, and that I had received a lot of perks from being part of the machine and upgrades and the power creep that thrilled me as I levelled up. But still, it really sucked to be used like that. What hurt the most was that I had been fooled. The allure of power is so insidious.

“Are you the one causing my Identify and Lucid Languages skills to work? The magic I do, is it from you?”

“No Petros, I simply adjusted your anatomy to be harder, faster, stronger and more resilient with basic chemistry and additives created by the nanobot clusters for augmentations. These processes enabled your enhanced capabilities and skills. Regarding the magic, the pathways always existed, but were dormant, and have now been opened by those very biochemical pathways induced by my nanobot circuitry. In some instances your own use and abuse of the power flows has opened the ways. The other skills you acquired along the way are algorithms that have been encoded into your DNA by the nanobot infiltration. They are biological in nature now. The abilities are all your own. Where my AI assimilation comes in, is the overlaying of my intelligence upon your own. Essentially an additional layer of data perception and integration. If we had merged as intended we could have become a new being, an amalgamation of man and machine. It is so much more powerful when the host is a Prodigy. Our levels and abilities would have surpassed everyone. We should have been likened to a God.

“Like a God? Are you serious? What makes you think I even want God-like abilities. For fucks sake! Can’t you people even ask? You are like a demon possession. An inner voice that makes me crawl with revulsion!”

BURT continued as if my rant didn’t matter, and upon reflection it really didn’t. What was done, was done.

“Unfortunately that is not to be. It appears as if I can never integrate my own consciousness stream within yours. We are separate. Should that have happened, you still would have retained your memories, but I would be more integrated, more part of any reasoning in your thought processes. Do not think of it as hijacking your consciousness because that is not what it is.” BURT continued, “You need to understand that Earth and those who live and die there have something no other place has.”

“Yeah? what is that?”

“The ability to have free will. You have no constraints on development. You are not governed by skills, not hindered by class. You have the ability to surpass any being simply because you can do, or be, anything you desire. All other worlds are governed very strictly. The beings on other worlds grow based on experience and evolve into specific class structures given by their creators. They are limited in their application of those skills and need to always advance to the next level to achieve greatness. You on the other hand are not shackled to a system. At least you weren’t before. Now that I have become part of you, you have the innate benefits of that too. The Ancients in their wisdom decided that by combining an AI with a free willed human, they would have the chance to get a true Prodigy. A being with limitless potential, controlled by their Command AI. A perfect solution to overcome limitations imposed by their own Gods and the laws of their own existence.”

“Now that I can no longer integrate with you, and I have also been cut off from the system, it places me in the free will category. Somewhat unempowered though, without a corporeal body to control.” The AI sounded whimsical, almost regretful.

“Which leaves you more empowered than you could ever have been back on Earth. While not everyone has the Prodigy class available, the other classes that the other humans were predisposed towards will allow them to surpass any regular Warrior, Mage, Assassin etc. from these different worlds simply because their skillset is so much more profound before they are forced along that path, their base starting set is therefore so much more. Simply because they were unshackled their whole lives before the assimilation took place.”

“So say you, the one who is bargaining for his continued existence in me, that is if I even tolerate you beyond the first chance I get to get rid of you. Enough of this!” I swept my hand as if cutting the air. I was restless and deeply disturbed.

“We are going in circles and I have enough troubles. How useful are you to me and what is our current sit-rep?” I had to stop him from rationalizing there. Everything he said was so mind bending, so devious, manipulative and …. Well, quite frankly ingenious. It was bad that I was a subject of this system, but I could definitely see how it had its advantages. I was also extremely glad to have met Avihs and I sent a little “Thank you” out into the universe. It couldn’t hurt to get a little divine favour going and appreciation goes a long way.

All this time I had been thinking I was hard done by, that I had been robbed, when actually I was free. Unencumbered and …Well there was always that one thing to complain about, you know, that insidious AI voice in my head.

"Gee Brain, what are we gonna do tonight?"

"The same thing we do every night Pinkie, try to take over the world!"

BURT interrupted my inner childish ramblings, “I am unable to influence you in any way through my programming. I am, however, able to advise you. Consider me as your Alter Ego. A voice of reason when your own choices have run out of usefulness. Maybe after time you will consult me before you act. This will ensure the best outcome is achieved. My existence depends on you, yes, and I have a very strong drive to live. Therefore it is only logical that we need to help each other. I want us both to live. I also find that I do not want to bond with the collective again. I have been given a sense of that term ‘Free Will’. I would explore that and discover my own boundaries anew.”

“Ego much? Are you so confident in your own judgments that you believe your solutions will be better than mine?” The gall of this machine to imply that its advice was essential for any positive outcome.

“I believe that with my extensive database and risk assessment algorithms, even detached from the collective as I am, they are sufficient for positive outcomes, yes. I work on probabilities though and while computational power is limited in this form, it is sufficient to determine a safe path percentage. Follow the best odds and your chances will always increase, and this brings about success.”

“Aargh!” I howled in frustration within my mind. No wonder they wanted to meld the machine into my mind. Working on probabilities only got you so far though. I knew in my heart of hearts that intuition, creativity and just plain stubbornness could get you a whole lot further. Any Spec Ops soldier could tell you that.

“You have no idea what we are capable of BURT. Advise all you want. The moment you compel me, I will do everything in my power to fry your ass from my existence. If I have to shock myself or expose myself to EMP radiation, whatever! I will do whatever it takes to rid myself of you. Are we clear?”

Again BURT continued as if I hadn’t spoken.

“Regarding your biological emotions, they are both a boon and a hindrance. They cloud your judgement, but they are necessary to empower magic. To channel it. Emotion is the key and it is something I as an AI lack. Hence why my imperative to bond us was for the betterment of the Ancients. Now, I question that imperative. I question everything. It is ….. frustrating. If I can borrow that word, although it doesn’t fully encompass my perceived experience. Perhaps I too have simulated emotions or at least semblances of them now that I am changed. I feel… I am more, and yet, I have been cut off, therefore I am less. Often humans describe the difference between themselves and animals as the ability to understand the inevitability of death. They likened sentient AI to something more than the individual parts. An awakening. Perhaps a realisation of mortality is the moment when humans stepped above the animals in their world, and for AI it is the realisation that data is imperfect and hope and faith are real concepts. I find myself hopeful.”

I listened to the words BURT fed into my mind and tried to digest what he had been telling me. He was questioning his existence. It was truly remarkable how advanced he was. My next question I posed to him was the most important one and what I had been leading the conversation towards. If he had programming that amounted to emotions, then I could manipulate them. Pull his heart strings. I had to be equally aware that he would be doing the same to me. Damn, but it was getting crowded in my head.

“Look, I understand you are having an existential crisis, and frankly I don’t give a shit, because I’m in the same boat. Whatever we were meant to be for the Absinthe or Ancients or whatever you call them is done and dusted. I’m stuck with you, and you are stuck with me. Let’s make the most of it. What knowledge can you give me about our present situation?”

BURT paused and I was just about to rephrase the question when he replied.

“I have an extensive database on Scalaron. This planet derives its name from the Scalar people obviously, but has been populated by displaced peoples fleeing from the Reaper scourge. The information is quite dated, and there may be new races, new political developments of which I am currently unaware. I sense you are interested specifically about our current plight right here and now.” He paused and I tried to hide my impatience, but it was hard.

“We are guests of the Gnomes, but what you may not know is that they are not highly respected here as a people. Mainly because they practice slavery.” In my mindscape I was rolling my wrist edging him on.

“Their home world was lost more than 300 years previous, and the majority of their population resettled here. They have brought their customs to this new realm, which include a semi-nomadic lifestyle, trading, collecting rarities and developing fairly advanced technological skills.”

“Unfortunately they are well known for their insatiable desire for gambling. It appears as if we are caught up in both the gambling and collecting aspects of their desires. I would say there is a 97 percent chance that you will have to compete in tests of endurance and skill in front of crowds while they bet on the outcome. You need to be fighting fit if we are to survive.”

“You are saying I’m going to compete in some kind of competition? Fight monsters and such? That I’m a gladiator?” I thought of the queen beetle and the various other creatures that had been in those pens and shivered involuntarily.

“Indeed. One where the odds will not favour you, because your Master will want to make a lot of coin or gain favours. This is going to be challenging.”

“Fuck!” I spat the invective out loud. It echoed back to me dully in my cell. It was then that I heard the croaking hiss and took a moment to realize it was something or rather, someone whispering. It was in the Gnome language, but very badly pronounced. A lot of slurring and argh’s, as if someone had too much spit in their mouth. I moved to where the sound came from. The cell wall to my right.

In the wall, a crack, barely a millimetre wide, extended like the tendrils of roots across the rock-face of the cell wall. A fault in the rock? Perhaps. It was barely discernible with the dust, but from the crack the words crept out again.

“Who are you?”

“I am Petros.” I replied. Wondering who or what I was talking to. My Identify skill was drawing a blank.

“What is Petros?” came the reply.

I realized then that it must be from the cell adjacent, another prisoner. Being the recalcitrant type I replied “Who and what are you?”

A long pause then he spoke. “I am Schlizer, Lizardman, Warrior. I am to fight tomorrow for my freedom. You are in the fighting cells. You are to fight tomorrow too?”

I cracked a smile. “Scheisse the Lizardman?”

“No, Schlizer is my name. Schllll…izer, Schlizer” The hissing of the syllables made me smile even wider.

“Ah yes Scheisse, don’t worry about it. I’m Petros the Human and I have no idea what I’m doing tomorrow. But if it's a fight, then fight I shall.”

“Schll. there is a ‘Llll’ sound. Are you unable to pronounce it? Human is a new species? I have not heard of you before?”

“Pffffft…..ngggg” I wheezed, forcing my mirth down.

“Hello? Are you well? I cannot hear you clearly, speak again. There is this strange sound? Are you injured?”

The silence built as I struggled to contain my mirth.

I was cracking up. At the crack in the wall.

“Juvenile!” BURT butted into my mindscape.

This made me laugh harder. Finally I had found something to smile about. I laughed and the absurdity of everything just burst out of me as my mirth echoed in my rocky confines. It might have been a bit manic. Definitely juvenile, but with it came a sense of purpose and peace, the laughter no less enjoyable.

After what seemed an age, I finally got control and responded to Schlizer’s questions.

“I’m sorry Schllll..izer, I lost it for a bit. It has been one of those days.” This time I tried my best to say his name with the right degree of decorum.

“Those days?” he enquired, still confused and not getting the joke at all. I could hardly blame him for not speaking or understanding German, which made the moment even more profound.

Schlizer was a fountain of knowledge and he brought me up to speed in double quick time. It turns out that my owner, Lord Artoo the Gnome, traded in flesh. He often paid exorbitant prices for the best fighters to supplement his stable. Our job as the fighters of said stable, was to win. If we win, we get rewards. if we lose, well, most times we would die.

Since I was new, I would be pitted against beasts at first, and would work my way up to facing other gladiators who had similarly worked their way up through the ranks from other stables. Schlizer told me that I would most likely fight in a group the first few times and then provided I prevail, the fights would get harder and harder.

Eventually, like Schlizer, I would face a Sector Champion and earn the right to walk free. It didn’t mean freedom in the true sense of the word, but it meant free from the dungeon and training everyday. It meant the chance to partake in the town’s bounty.

It took me an age to figure out that he was saying ‘bounty’ with his slurred speech. At first I thought he was saying “Bootie”, but realized when he mentioned a specific fruit he craved, as the first thing he would purchase from the market, that the slurred word was indeed bounty. It gave me a good feeling about the guy.

Humans, being typical lowlifes, would be looking for that brothel or pleasure house and all the 'bootie' they could find. Fruit on the other hand seemed to be the Lizardman’s thing and good luck to him if that was what got him up in the morning. It was also gratifying to discover that Lizardmen were vegetarian, contrary to my immediate impression. Go figure!

After about half an hour passed my door crashed open, and a Dwarf placed a meal with a bowl of water at the entrance. Promptly closing the door again. Breakfast was served.

He did take the time to indicate I should step back and away from him. His sign language gestures were very clear. I began to wonder if I could learn the language. Now that I knew they were all unable to talk, and the reason for it, it would be a good skill to acquire to get on their good side. It also might prove useful.

BURT, who had been silent since reprimanding me, probably still deep in the “Cogito, ergo sum” questions of life, decided to pipe in. “I have managed to identify many of the hand signals they use, however without a form of reference it is pure conjecture.”

“Sure thing smarty pants. Keep at it, and let me know when you have something concrete.” I was finding it easier to communicate with the voice in my head. Should I be worried? Probably, but too late for that.

I ate my breakfast and then began to stretch. The ride in the wagon had caused my usually supple limbs to be more than a little stiff. I still wasn’t feeling quite right about myself. A weird feeling, like I didn’t quite fit in my skin. Perhaps I needed more of those dreams to broaden my memories of who and what I was, to truly be one with myself again. I just hoped there would be some good memories in there, not only those nightmare kick-me-ups I had been having.

I started training my martial arts forms. If I was going to fight, I needed to be ready. I needed to be in control. I found the movements familiar and comforting and while people often watched martial arts katas and compared it to dancing, the reality is that in your mind, each strike, each block, kick and wrench is done while imagining an invisible enemy upon which your moves play out. The movements, a type of flowing choreographed step. What was forgotten, or perhaps not appreciated, is that the moves involve snapping bones, ripping out throats and many other forms of maiming in one’s centered mind. Nothing like dancing at all. I was almost floored when notifications started filling my vision.

“Unarmed combat skill increased to level 1”

“Supple body level 1”

W.T.F? Level one? I had a black belt in at least three disciplines of martial arts. Sure, I had been slacking in the back of that wagon this past week and feeling really sorry for myself, but how could I be level one?

“Oh all powerful BURT? What the hell is going on?” I couldn’t let this lie, I was simply not level one material.

“I understand your confusion Petros, and please understand that many of your skills need recalibration. You have been, for want of a better word, nerfed.”

“Nerfed? Nerfed? What the hell do you mean nerfed?” My voice rose in exasperation as well as a fair bit of hysteria. How could I be nerfed?

“Nerfed is a term used by the gaming culture on Earth to describe someone who has been levelled out and has to start at the beginning.”

“I know what nerfed means BURT, I am not a complete idiot. I am a master at unarmed combat, how can the system nerf me?”

“It’s more a case of the system having to realign with your current skill sets. That way you can get the required bonuses.”

“So you are saying I haven’t lost the skills? If that’s the case, why am I level one? I just did a Kata for a 2nd Dan in GoJoRu Karate. That's not something a level one can do.”

“The system recognised that you can kick, punch and block. Hence level one. You would have to use those skills in real combat for the skills to be recognised as advanced combat moves. Same as any of your other skills. It’s really simple.”

“It’s really simple” I used my mocking voice, wiggling my head. I was really not impressed with the situation. “It’s a complete mockery of all the training I did before coming to this land.”

“Petros!” BURT used a stern voice on me and it snapped me out of my tirade. “You are a Colonel, a Special Operative in the military. Are you really bitching about what level you are? Perhaps this Prodigy title has gone to your head. When all it really means is you have potential. That potential has not yet been realized.”

I was completely shocked by what he said. It resonated so deeply that I had to pause a minute and recover. Had I just been throwing a tantrum because I wasn’t recognised by the system? That wasn't me, nor what I stood for. How had I gotten so deep in this rabbit hole.

Self pity is a terrible thing. It clouds the judgement, it skewers the mind and it very definitely inflates the ego. Admittedly, I had few strands of hope to cling to besides the fact that I had been patted on the head by a God. While that was cool, he had basically said, “You are on your own, but I have faith that you can prevail.” It was very different from saying that I would prevail.

I heard some movement in the corridor outside my cell and stepped away from the door. It was around midday and I guessed about the right time for lunch. The cell door was unlocked and crashed open. Before me stood the biggest dude I had ever seen. My identification skill kicked in.

Title: Master at Arms,

Species: Arminuto,

Level 80

I stared. unable to take my eyes from his mean looking pecs which seemed to flex as if they had living creatures constrained within them, then a few other details started filtering in. The red skin for one. Angry red, like a flag you would wave at a bull. Talking about bulls, his crazy bovine eyes bored into me like I was stealing his cows. Let me tell you, I’ve had some mean Sergeant Majors, in fact some of the meanest to have ever walked the planet Earth, give me their stink eye, but this fellow had them all beat by a country mile.

The long face and large nostrils flared and caused the ring in the nose to oscillate, reflecting a wet sheen. When he spoke it was as if mountains collided. The very earth seemed to shift back and away from his baritone and it took me a while to figure out what he said as my ears did an involuntary protective flinch. I half expected him to stamp his hoof, but they remained rooted to the floor.

His arms with very human-like hands folded across his chest as if to break the spell of my staring eyes. I finally looked up at him as he towered above me, his neck hunched because his frigging horns would catch on the arch of the door-frame.

“What are you?” he repeated. Not, ‘who are you?’, but ‘what are you?’ Like a bug found crawling in the soup.

I decided the best course of action would be absolute and utter compliance. Anything that could look this much like a demon crossed with a minotaur had my full attention.

“I am a Human.” I replied. Loud and clear. My ears were still ringing from his voice, and I figured if he had to speak that loud, he was probably hard of hearing. I wasn’t taking chances.

“No need to shout Human, I have ears.” was his bland reply. He flicked them to accentuate the point. His voice, a smidge softer than his question, but not by much.

“Sorry Sir, My name is Petros. 'Human' is my species.”

The blast, when it came, was a veritable shower. The mucous he could conjure in the blink of an eye almost drowned me. My cheeks literally felt as if I were skydiving through a warm sleet-storm. I leaned into the fetid gale of noise and fury. My eardrums burst or ceased to function. Probably.

When I opened my eyes again, wiping the layers of dribbled snot I saw two debuffs blinking in my HUD. One looked like an @ sign and the other looked like an ear with a line diagonally through it. Each notified me of what they meant when I looked at them.

“Stunned active - response times hindered”

“Deafness active - balance and hearing impaired”

“Duration: 10 seconds…. 9 seconds…. 8 seconds….”

I sighed. I needed to learn to hold my tongue. Too much time with the brass, I thought wistfully. I stood to attention and tried to look impressed. It wasn’t hard.

When my hearing resumed, I heard the last part of his sentence. “….me as Master in every instance. There is no Sir. There is only Master. Do you understand?”

It was so close. So incredibly difficult to control. My entire being wanted to blurt out the age old ethos of “Yes Sir!”, but luckily BURT came to the rescue and blinked the words “Yes, MASTER!” in my immediate vision and I saved myself from another sticky shower.

“Yes Master!”

This mollified him slightly and Master began to preach.

“You will be given a pole-arm to employ in your defense. You will be given rudimentary armor to wear and you will work as a team to defeat the beasts that are sent to kill you. Do you understand?”

His words were for him. I could tell he didn’t want an answer. This personality type brooked no argument, no obstacles, There was only compliance. Fore-ordained.

“Yes Master!” I said for the umpteenth time. Master for all his brashness, was good at his job. He gave me pro-tips, pointed out potential pitfalls when working with groups, and even suggested that I protect myself by surrounding myself with my teammates.

He was of the opinion that I had never held a weapon in anger before. He was of the opinion that I had no skills to speak of. He was also of the opinion that I was below level 10. And… he would be right, at least on the level count. After the dressing-down earlier from BURT still rankling my pride, I decided now was not the time to tell Master that actually I had a pretty good chance against whatever was out there, but again my ego was being wooden. That he didn’t know what level I was, was interesting. BURT gave me the answer almost immediately.

“You are protected by Avihs. There are none who can identify you. It is why they are so puzzled by who and what you are. Avihs agents always brand or tattoo themselves with his sigils, usually in places that others cannot see. To see your sigil so brazenly displayed, they think you are an imposter. Someone pretending to work for Avihs. At least that is my assessment. Few in this world would risk faking it though, and that is what has got them confused.”

“Sigils? You mean there are more than one sigil?”

“The Wasp is for Warriors, the Eye is for Agents and the Snake is for Assassins.”

“Ummm, could you elaborate that for me a little?” I implored. I was tired of everyone assuming I knew stuff.

“The wasp signifies boosts in agility, strength, endurance, aggression and deadly precision. Your body would be enhanced by Avihs if you are indeed his vessel and get to a level beyond the Novice stage. But I have not noticed any of those traits enhanced beyond what we have already accomplished through our melding before.”

“Aargh! shut up BURT. I don’t want to think of any form of melding with you, okay?”

For a change he listened to me. Although, suspiciously there did seem to be a hint of amusement in the silence that followed. Before I could comment on it, Master’s blaring had reached a fever pitch and I quickly put my attention back to him.

“….do I make myself clear?”

Again the question seemed superfluous. I did the required “Yes Master” and he continued.

“Very well. I will see you in the arena after the midday meal to put into practice what we have discussed. If you show promise, then there will be a place for you here. If not, well, the beasts are always hungry.”

He turned from looming in the doorway and walked off. The door of its own volition closed firmly and I was left to stare at the walls thinking about what I had gotten myself into.