Needledrop

1

The Gladiator

Wynnona

I stare at the old book, fully taken away by the new adventure in my hands. My small room shakes as a high-speed train blows by. I don't look up at all. A glass sitting beside me starts to fall off the small table. Without looking at it, I manage to catch it mid-fall.

My phone starts to go off, Sound of your heart from 500 years ago starts to play and a stupid photo of Brett and I lights up the screen. I close the book reluctantly and answer.

"What?" I grumble into the small thing, placing it against my ear.

"Hello to you too." Brett says in an all too cheerful voice. I can hear people shouting in the background. "Allen, Cobra is going to kill you. You're almost late for your fight." He tells me and I sigh. Oh yeah. I say to myself and stand. Brett's always called me by my last name, something that started happening between the two of us when we were twelve or something.

"I'll be there soon." I tell him and hang up. Stuffing my phone in my back pocket I stand and grab my leather jacket, slipping it on. Snatching my keys from the kitchen table I leave the small house. It's the same size as an apartment house, but cheaper. Then again, no one here actually pays to live here. We've all been trapped here because of lack of money, a wealthy family name, or there just isn't room for us in the fancy, clean cut and well-kept houses of the rich. The slums have always been like this, dirty, cold, sketchy if you will.

Hopping onto my motorcycle I start it up, driving off to the stadium. I ignore the familiar crumbling buildings around me as I dodge large potholes in the unkept street. When I get where I'm headed Keya and Brett rush over to me.

"Cobra is so very angry." Keya warns me. I give her a once over and see bruises on her wrists. Our nations may be at peace, but nothing inside of them are peaceful. There are small areas of people who have money and wealth, but the rest of us live off whatever we can steal. The higher class of us can go to school and all that jazz. The rest are forced into the gladiator fights.

I've been able to keep Keya and Brett away from Cobra's slimy grips by fighting in their place. Brett is studying medicine as best he can. Keya is going to school as well, studying history to be a teacher. She was once a bimbo for Cobra, forced into his hands and way from her family. Luckily, Brett and I figured out how to get her away, protected from his grips.

"I'm going to kill him." I growl as I grab her wrists gently avoiding the tender bruises as I inspect the marks further.

"You and me both." Brett tells me, wrapping a protective arm around Keya's small shoulders. She's far too skinny; a slim figure with little curves. I place light kisses to her wrists as I see a tall man covered in tattoos makes his way over to us. Cobra stands in front of us as I step in front of Keya.

"I was beginning to think I'd have to put Brett into the ring." Cobra sneers at me. I glare up into his cold blue eyes. I can hear Brett gulp behind me. "I was so excited for it too." I watch his eyes rack over Keya.

"Yeah well I'm here." I growl at him. "So, hands off." He smirks and walks away, into the large stadium. Think old Greek where people fought loins or something. I never really paid much attention to the history class when I did go to school, it was too boring.

The place is packed with people cheering and shouting. I hand Brett my keys and leather jacket. I'm left in only my tightly fitted, red, turtleneck, cropped tank top, my ripped skinny jeans, my rings, fingerless gloves, and boots. The tattoo on my left bicep as well my right forearm is on full display as I lick my lips.

"Be careful." Keya tells me, worry evident over her delicate face as we walk in. Cobra announces me and the audience roars with cheers.

"I promise." I tell her, letting go of her hand and walking in. I set my features with a bored look as I stare at the other guy.