“I am going to put this in a way that even your empty head can fully understand. If you don’t let me out of here, I will fucking kill you.”


The amoralist moron, an amoronist if you will, just continues to stare blankly at me. It seems even the simplest of instructions was too much for his brain. I didn’t have time for this shit. I needed this fucker to let me out now.


“Oi! Dickweasel! This is your final fucking warning. Let me out now, and I promise to leave you with your balls intact.” I bellowed at him, but again, there was nothing. I was preparing to launch myself at the cage door when a voice belonging to someone unseen travelled through the echoing corridor.


“Threatening my staff won’t get you anywhere. You are here because you refused to behave after Frozen Over. As a precaution, we are keeping you here to keep an eye on you. The voice drawled, getting ever closer with each word. My blood boiled. I knew that voice; I’d heard it the day Deralius had disappeared. Sure enough, a moment later, the amoralist commander stepped into view. I never bothered to catch his name that time, didn’t care to now. For this interaction, I decided I was going to call him dickhead. Seemed appropriate. That smirk on his face only served to piss me off further. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. Frankly, I was tired of propaganda-infused bullshit.


“Whatever is it you're about to say, zip it Dickhead. There is one thing you need to do right this fucking moment, and that is let me out of this cage, take me to whoever is playing matchmaker and allow me to remind him who actually runs these fucking shows.” I spat at him, not caring for the narrowing of his eyes. He obviously spent most of his life with people licking his asshole and thanking him for the privilege.


“And why would I do that?” He drawled again, attempting to keep his tone steady, but that shake was unmistakable.


“Because…” I started, trying to keep the vitriol from overtaking me fully. “Because what happened this week is an absolute fucking farce and I have no time for it.”


“A farce? Are you referring to the fact that you lost a fight? I know you think highly of yourself, but even you are capable of taking a loss once in a while.”


“Fact check yourself Dickhead. I am still undefeated. No fucker can touch me. Hell, it took four of your fucking guys to put me in this cage. I wasn’t beaten, I wasn’t even involved. Do you know who was involved, though? Cale-fucking-donia. The high fucking priestess herself. You know, the person whom I beat in the first fucking round. So. What’s going to happen next is that you are going to release me, I am going to find whoever puts these shows together, remind them of that very fact and get my one-on-one match with the stupid cunt that is holding my belt, you know, like I earned in the first fucking place?” My breathing was all over the place, and my heart was racing. All those years of holding down the killer within. These fuckers had flicked the switch.


“That won’t be possible.” He smiled as he approached the cage. “We have already decided that Caeldonia will be defending her championship against King Jarvis. You are, however, being allowed to become the number one contender, as you will face Moretti and Donovan. How…”


Whatever smarmy response Dickhead had lined up, I didn’t care. I snapped. I launched myself at the bars. Dickhead tried to jump back, but he wasn’t fast enough. I grabbed the collar of his cloak and wrenched. His face smashed into the metal bars, and I heard the beautifully unmistakable sound of bone crunching against steel. The hapless oaf of a guard grabbed hold of his boss and started trying to wrestle him out of my grasp.


“Listen here Dickhead. I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m sick of this world, I’m sick of the Colloseum, I’m sick of you fuckers, and I’m sick of having to remind people that I am the greatest fucking fighter alive today.”


The guard managed to pull Dickhead free. Once Dickhead had crashed to the floor, he turned to me, ready to dish out some punishment. As he raised his weapon to strike, a giant shadow loomed over him. He turned away from me just in time to see the giant palm moments before it gripped his face. I couldn’t contain my smile as I watched my old friend and mentor pick up the useless fool by his head and slam him into the bars of my cage, leaving a lovely imprint of his skull behind. Anubis turned his attention to the fallen commander and, without much thought, put his foot through the skull of the man now formally known as Dickhead.





********************



Harlan Moretti. We meet again, big guy. I hope you’re feeling OK after literally being torn apart last week. I must say, for a man who prides himself on being big and strong, passing out to little old Caledonia was a little… pathetic. Still, you must be happy, right? After all, you have something interesting about you now. You will now be the answer to a trivia question one day. Good for you.



I want you to know something Moretti. You have me all wrong. I don’t thrive in chaos; I don’t like the unpredictability. You have never seen anyone like me in your seedy clubs at 3 AM. I will give you two very good reasons why. First, I wouldn’t be seen dead at your backroom parlours full of the desperate and empty. You couldn’t afford me. The second reason is I don’t push chips and hope for an Ace on the River. I’m not the man you watch, hoping to catch his tell, I’m the man wearing the green visor and collecting off those unable to separate chance from luck. The cards were always mine in the first place, and people like you are my mark.



Chance after chance. You chanced your way into a title match you had no place being in, thanks to hanging on to Shane and Jarvis. You blew it when you gave the fuck in. Don’t care who does what to protect your image. The record books are black and white. Harlan lost. You like your little books, don’t you? I saw as much in the little amount of your promo that I could stomach. I can teach you a thing or two about effective emphasis, by the way. Loses its charm when you use the three-line method sixty fucking times in a row. Doesn’t make you cool or mysterious, just makes you sound like a jackass.



‘Chaos is just panic wearing a mask.” That’s the one good line you came up with. Kudos on that. I’m not surprised, though. You know a lot about wearing a mask. Last week, you were an annoyance, and I couldn’t be arsed to give you my time. This week is different. I will unmask the scared little man within. Hopefully, then you will stay the fuck out of my way once and for all.







********************



“You know you have to stop calling me young Ripper now, right? I’m pretty sure I’m older than you now.” I smiled as I admonished him. I still wasn’t sure what this dynamic was. This man was my mentor, my benefactor, and so much more. We had decades of history together.


Apart from one small problem. I had known this man for 30 years. He’d known me for less than six months.

It was proving to be an interesting dynamic for sure. He also seemed less… mystic? I thought it was the age at first, until I remembered when I had first met my Anubis… oh, that was the other thing. In my world, he had already inherited that title. In his world, his mentor, his Anubis, was still alive. So, he wasn’t Anubis, he was Arik. Let me tell you, viewer, that’s fucking nutso to me.


“I shall try and make it a habit.” He nonchalantly commented. He had collected the cell keys from the guard, as surprised as I was that physical keys were still a thing, and we had begun walking down the corridor of the cell dungeon. There were other lost souls down here, but it seems no one else had warranted a guard. I had suspected that they hoped Deralius or one of his time-brothers would come looking for me. Little did they expect this Ancient SOB to arrive in such dramatic fashion. We had little idea where exactly we were going, although the goal had not changed.


“As will I, Arik.” My earnest response earned a small smile of approval from my giant companion. He didn’t look down at me, though. No, we were both a little busy keeping an eye out for danger, or an exit, whichever came first. After a few more minutes had passed, we discovered that in fact, they could be coming at the same time. As we rounded the corner, two guards stood between a heavy metal door that came into view. It took them a second to survey the situation, in which time we closed the gap some more.


“Wait, what are you…” His question remained unasked as I charged at him, crashing into him and smashing him against the wall behind. The second turned to attack, a sword materialising in his hand. He was swiftly relieved of said sword as Arik grabbed his wrist, snapped it and sent the blade crashing to the ground, the sound drowned out by the screams. Without letting go of the wrist, Arik bore down on the guard with those silver eyes.


“Please accept my sincerest apologies, but I cannot allow you to bring any harm to us at this time. I will, however, grant you the courtesy of a choice. Bestow us with the information that will allow us to find the matchmaker, and I shall leave your arm attached to your torso. I would advise that refusing could be considered unwise.” He delivered the line coolly, calmly. He might as well have been reciting the day’s specials. There was a whimper of a response, but judging by the fact that the arm remained firmly in place. I assumed the answer was provided. However, your typical guard wasn’t great at negotiating a fair price. The arm was made quite useless as Arik twisted his head with such speed and ferocity that the snap could be heard echoing down the corridor.





*********************



“Shane, Shane, Shane. It seems as if our inevitable one-on-one isn’t happening yet, is it? For the second show in a row, we are being sidetracked by your little band of merry morons. Is it your band? Jarvis’? Does it actually matter?



I find this frustrating. Frozen over should have been you and I. Just you and I. No thrills, no extra people. Just the two best that this company has to offer, tearing the house down. I was waiting for it, salivating over it. Your blood was to be the sweetest I had ever spilt. We were destined to leave our hearts, souls and bodies broken on that canvas. Frozen Over should have ended with me standing over your corpse, knowing I had finally beaten the best this company had to offer.



Instead, someone who had already been knocked out of this tournament politicked her way in, stole our moment and even then, the final moment of the night had to belong to the Amoralists and the Rish family. Narcissism at its finest. Three hundred fucking years, a dystopian future that even Blade Runner couldn’t have predicted and nothing, not one little thing has changed.



So, can we just hurry up and get this done properly? You want this as much as I do. The two very best, laying it all on the line. Tell Harlan to wait in the back, he won’t be winning anyway, and let us finally decide. You correctly stated that you don’t have my name recognition. This is a fact. I am the greatest to ever do it. No matter how many people try and downplay that fact for their favourites. But that doesn’t always mean anything. I had no idea who you were when this started, you quickly changed that. You got the attention of the true king of this ring, not an easy feat by any means.



You and I both have blood on our hands. Neither of us cares if more is spilled in the pursuit of greatness. You can be the Harbinger if you want. I am the Apocalypse. You’re a God amongst men in this arena. I’m a God amongst Gods. You’re the MANMADEMONSTER, but I am the myth that monster legends are born from. There may not be a next time. I’mma make this one count. This time I leave you laying. This may not be the destined scenario for us Shane, but the outcome remains the same. The legend of Shane Donovan dies at the hands of The Ripper. 




*********************



“So if you’re not the guy, who is?” I asked the young fellow currently face down on his own desk. I wrenched the arm a little more. Nothing makes people want to talk more than feeling like their shoulder is about to take a leave of absence.


“I don’t fucking know! Get the fuck off me you lunatic! Do you know who the fuck I am?” Bless him, panic masked as power. The kinda thing Harlan does when he faces me. It’s cute.


“Obviously not jackass. Wouldn’t care if I did. You Amoronist bastards are due for a spanking anyway.” I loosened the grip a little. This dweeb was all tie clips and no bollocks anyway. “Tell you what I am going to do. I am going to let you go. You are going to take your head out of your ass for a minute, find the matchmaker and tell him, her, they or it that your Uncrowned King of the Colosseum wants a word.” I smiled at the turn of phrase. Must remember to mentally save that one for later. “Anyone that attempts to prevent me from taking my title will be put down for good. Your tournament is over. My ascension has begun.”


For emphasis, I popped his shoulder out of the socket. Nothing too bad, but enough to send a message. I left the idiot whimpering as I rejoined Arik on the outside of the room.


“If your business is completed here, we are required at the camp. Deralius has finally arrived on site. Arik explained calmly, once again betraying the important nature of his words.


“Then what the fuck are we still doing here?”


“You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”


Maybe I was. Just a little.