The sun had barely risen but the arena was full.

I was inside my own locker room, looking over myself in costume in the mirror it had. I looked just like Jacob did. It was odd. I couldn’t explain it, but every time I had a vision–God, did it feel weird to even think that–I didn’t even give any thought.

They were memories. Memories of a life I had finally escaped. Or at least I would escape it soon. As soon as we were done with Lady Doom. I closed my eyes and flexed my fingers.

I took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.

“You have already failed.”

I turned around on instinct, hitting whoever was behind me. But nothing was there. And then there was. Paragon. He stood completely unfazed, smiling at me through his pure white beard.

“You’ve said that twice already. And look at where it’s gotten you.”

“You think you’re so important,” he said smugly. “I have lived through a lifespan you cannot even comprehend. My followers still litter this world, waiting for my return. And my order.”

“I don’t care.”

I walked through him. It was almost time for my fight with Azam. I couldn’t let him get in my head. Suddenly he was in front of me again. I didn’t stop to give him a moment. I just kept walking.

I could see the opening in the distance. Hear the crowds murmuring among themselves. I would beat him. And tomorrow, or whenever the next fight was, I would beat Lady Doom and bring her in.

“I see you think of Lady Doom.”

Dammit. I shook my head.

“Keep out of my thoughts.”

“I usually can’t breach you so well. But I live in your mine. Some things slip out eventually. I think you should know that she is not a complete stranger to you.”

I stopped.

The look in his eyes was as arrogant as the tone of his voice. Every word of his mouth was as matter-of-fact as possible. As far back as I could remember he was like that. Completely sure of himself, like his every word was gospel.

“What do you mean?”

“It was the beginning of the end. Nineteen ninety three. March. It was one of the many friends you betrayed and killed with your bare hands. What was his name? Jillson. Johnson? Or-”

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“Jackson.” I basically breathed it out.

He was a friend. Not the closest friend I had, but still someone I called a friend. His wife was a high ranking member of the Houses of Doom. We killed him–I killed him. And from that we got her…and from there more than half of the families that headed the whole organisation.

“He had a younger brother, your friend,” said Paragon. “Not blood related to any member of the Houses, but after the purge you and your lover committed-”

“Don’t call her that!”

“-they got desperate. He had a family. A daughter who, I would gather, is eager to prove herself only to be met with the very man who decimated her family. When you realise that this charade of yours is pointless? You’re not a hero. You’re barely an assassin sent to kill whoever your higher ups want dead.”

Tom. That was his name. I-I could remember him. I clenched my hands.

Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.

And I walked past him. Paragon thought he could mess with me. Make me lose my edge.

“It may not be today and it may not be tomorrow. But you will realise the world needs me in order to survive.”

I stopped again.

“I remember you as a hero,” I said without turning to meet him. “I was obsessed with you. You were so powerful. So strong. But I also remember Alpha Surge. Who was a hundred times more of a hero than you. And when it comes to you two there’s no contest. This may sound a bit melodramatic but I’d rather try and keep his light alive than live under your darkness.”

“Melodramatic but also succinct. Make no mistake. I pray that your way works. Even if I know it won’t.”

He faded out of existence on that. I chuckled without realising it. Of course he would have the last word. He couldn’t live with himself otherwise. I turned back and continued. The closer I got, the more I felt the wind blow.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer’s voice boomed outside. “Atlantis’ civil war finally begins! The primordial god of doom fights the beast that brings said doom to people of every mythology!

“Give it up for Moros and The New Drakon!”

Cheers erupted and filled my ears. I could feel and even slightly smell the clean, low cut grass that surrounded the arena.

I had to crane my neck to see the tops of the stands, filled completely with people from all across the world. A pit formed in my stomach. So many people were there but my parents couldn’t make it. They wanted to but work got in the way–combined with the fact that I spent hours talking them out of it.

With everything going on, I regretted not pushing them more. Even if they didn’t know exactly what was happening, I knew that them being here would help.

Azam was walking opposite to me. He was wearing nothing but skin tight shorts that showed his human chest and the scales that surrounded it. We both made it to the field at the same time, stepping on the tan fibres simultaneously.

Like a movie, the nerdy part of myself supplied.

With a flick of my hands both gloves retreated and so did my cape. A little trick the designers had put in. Azam was a tricky bastard, I couldn’t give him a chance to grab me.

I had to win this. I would win this.