Contest of Champions

39

After rummaging around the various compartments, we find a substantial amount of food with which to make a meal, along with bottles of beer. Frowning, I examine the bottles before setting them aside in contempt. "A temptation," I sneer. "They think they can tempt an Asgardian with inferior alcohol."

Peter furrows his brow. "Why would they have alcohol in here? Some of us are minors."

"On Midgard," I point out. "We're on Titan, or at least we started out there. I don't believe that particular law exists in the Contest." After a moment, I add, "After all, we are being encouraged to kill, which is, to my understanding, normally considered a capital offense."

Peter concedes my point with a tilt of his head as he splits the food up. We eat in silence, and then Peter looks at me curiously. "Do you know who has died today? Since the three yesterday?"

"Dora Skirth, Mantis, Drax, Raze, Hogun, Yon-Rogg, and Sif," I list, bringing up my unanswered question. Why did Veers kill Yon-Rogg for me? I shove it aside for later.

"Did you kill any?" Peter asks, a bit reluctantly.

"I've killed three," I answer after a moment of hesitation. Peter's eyes widen. "I'm not going to kill you," I tell him irritably, sensing the drift of his mind. "Relax."

We finish our meal and I pace around the room, trying to think of a plan. Peter stays by the table and as I pass by, I see he's looking at a small note.

"What is that?" I ask and Peter reluctantly hands me the note.

"M-Mr. Stark sent it with the churro," he says. When I give him a blank look, he adds, "Uh, yeah, Mr. Stark sent me a churro."

I glance down at the note. Bold, dark ink has printed the words onto the thick paper. Some old lady wanted me to send you this – T.S.

Handing the note back to Peter, I continue my pacing. "What are we going to do?" he asks me.

"I'm thinking," I reply. "We either need to get them off the ship or get ourselves off. I believe getting ourselves off will be easier, but they will just follow us back to the asteroid. So we need a way to strand them here."

"So, we either fight three now and three there, or three now and six later," Peter reasons. "The former sounds better. Let's do that."

Satisfied, I nod, my mind working furiously. I did notice, however, that he didn't allot for any deaths. It's a good thing he rescued me and not one of the other contenders, for he won't last long on his own. He's dreadfully in need of some leadership. "There's a quadrant attached to this ship, which we can use to escape."

"Why don't we just take a ship from the hangar?" Peter asks, jumping off his seat and standing.

"Because that's an obvious choice," I say, my lips curling into a malicious grin. "No, we're going to blow those up."

Peter's eyes light up. "We are?"

I nod. "Then we'll escape to the asteroid in the quadrant and deal with their friends down there."

"This could work," Peter says, bouncing off the table and standing. "This could actually work!"

"Of course it will," I snap. "It's my plan. They always work." Well, at least most of the time. "We'll put it in place tomorrow."

Music touches my ears and I whirl around, seeking for its source before realizing it's the Avenger Anthem and the second day is over. Peter and I hurry over to a window and stare out into space to see "Avenge the Fallen" appear in the distance under the pictures of the dead contenders.