Trevor had expected Jesse to call the following day, but it didn’t come. Nor the next day. Right when he started hoping that maybe he had upset Jesse enough that he would not want him back and would leave him alone, there it was. He had told Marie he was in the process of looking for a new job when they met. Partly because he was ashamed at how he made his money, and partly because that was the rule he had to follow. At this point though, Trevor would love for that to be true. To be working at another lame office job somewhere. And not because he didn’t like the thrill of the fight, which did well at breaking up the monotony of his life. But because now, thanks to his last conversation with Jesse, he felt like a cornered rat. Especially after remembering some things, random things he saw and heard here and there in the Pit that he dismissed before. Some of those things made sense now.

“Fifty. You’re on. Tonight. Location 3. Normal time.”

Click.

“Well, damn,” Trevor mumbled to himself.

Jesse called anyone ‘Fifty’ that annoyed him.. Given the tone of the call, Trevor wondered now if it was more of a serious warning. He tried to remember exactly in what context Jesse had used that term before, but he never knew or cared about the specifics. What Trevor did know was that when it was used, even the most hardened veterans of the pit just did as they were told. It stood for something, but any time he’d asked, no matter who he asked, he usually got a shake of the head and was ignored. Once it earned him a snort too, as in, you’re too much of a newb to know. One guy told him, “Just play along with the charade, Jesse’s pet.” Hands down the wittiest comment Trevor had ever heard in the Pit, once he’d figured out what was being referenced.

Now he hated this whole situation even more. Cornered rat, indeed. Trevor spent most of his time in the Pit keeping to himself. Since day one, he could barely handle the massive egos down there. He certainly regretted that now though. He felt like he needed information. And maybe some back-up. Sure Jesse was used to getting his way, but how far did he go to get it? Have people gotten hurt trying to go against his bidding?

This wasn’t like him, to freak out like this. The events of late, though not overly dramatic, had increased his anxieties as of late. He hadn’t really noticed with the short lived euphoria of having Marie in his life. And just what the hell did Fifty mean anyway?

Trevor decided he wasn’t going to push it this time. He had to calm down and find out more. The fact remained he was still easily the best fighter in the mix. And of course while he had enough money already to sit on his ass for a year if he wanted to, padding that account wouldn’t hurt. But this was the beginning of the end of this life, he decided. It felt good being the man of the hour as he was rising to the top. But really, all things considered he didn’t feel good about being a part of it. There was such a nasty vibe in the pit that sometimes it took everything he had just to enter the room. Sometimes the feeling to him was akin to the one you get when you have to jump into a garbage dumpster to look for that valuable something someone accidentally threw away. Sure you got used to it after a minute, but the initial jump can make your skin crawl.

He had less than four hours before he was due. At least he still had time for his pre-fight rituals, which weren’t much compared to some he had heard of. He would eat now, take a nap, go for a short run and then eat again. Something small, but enough to make sure eating one or two protein bars during the night would be enough to hold him over. His last act of preparation was to meditate with whatever time he had left. He hoped he felt better about things at that point, because now he felt like little more than a bundle of nerves.

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There was no fanfare when he arrived. He’d half expected Jesse to try and heckle him a bit, or even try and bully him. Jesse though, was far too busy schmoozing with the gradually thickening crowd, as his charismatic self was wont to do each and every fight day. He had given Trevor a cursory nod when he first saw him, and that had been it. Fine enough by Trevor.

Jesse had at least six different locales in which they frequented. No doubt there were more that Trevor didn’t know about. Each one of those six were in an obscure, hard to find basement somewhere in the city proper or near suburbs of the rich/poor land of Chicago. Trevor often wondered how Jesse convinced authorities not to interrupt his operation. Did he simply pay them, or perhaps he included them in this or some other business venture? Jesse was nothing if not a shrewd business man, and Trevor had no doubt he had his hands in other things as well. At least in the big city itself, it was also pretty well known that nothing happened without the CPD knowing about it. So in Trevor’s mind, there is no way some sort of deal wasn’t made. Jesse could walk around in worn blue jeans, a tight, black long sleeve t-shirt with a bandana around his head and somehow have dozens of posh, rich folk eating out of his hands. Now though, watching him go around doing what he was best at, Trevor felt something coming from Jesse. Almost like a contained but simmering pestilence just below the surface of his infectious demeanor. Perhaps it had always been there in the year or so that Trevor had known him, but Trevor had just dismissed it as his usual discomfort around this egoistic, unpredictable man. But now, whether it was his own paranoia or a strong change in Jesse’s energies, Trevor distrusted this man to the core of his being. If only because he realized just how little he actually understood him.

Trevor had his faults, like being slightly naive and trusting too easily, but when he had an instinctual, gut feeling like this, it never let him down. He was the mongoose to Jesse’s cobra. Each deadly in its own right. But now his gut was telling him he was in a nest of vipers. Had it been a mistake to come?

Where most people would have thought themselves being irrational, Trevor let his eyes start to roam, looking for signs to validate his unease. Trevor worked his way through the crowd of spectators and fighters, to the corner spot dedicated to the fighters for warming up and refreshments. At least there he wouldn’t feel so exposed. No one seemed to be paying him any mind though.

He started to go through his own warm ups. Half-assed, but not useless. Jesse was in the center of the ring now with his portable sound system and microphone, getting the crowd worked up and excited. He announced Trevor’s return to the Pit and for a few incredibly unwelcome seconds all eyes were on him. He was sweating, but that wasn’t due to his warm up. Thankfully Jesse moved on quickly.

Opening festivities over with, the fights started, allowing Trevor to settle down a bit. Jesse didn’t like too much down time. There was money to be made after all. Jesse would remain busy from here on out. Still, he kept a wary eye on the crowd, which included Jesse’s staff, and the other fighters.

Thanks to his new found attention to detail, Trevor noticed something he hadn’t before. The crowd surrounded the fighters forming the ring that served as the battle area. It could get pretty hot down in these basements, with all the body heat and non-stop cheering. So while all the spectators showed up dressed to the nines, the start of the first fight meant they could relax and start stripping some of their layers. Guys took off suit jackets and ties and rolled up their sleeves. Women took off their own light jackets, shawls and hats. And much to Trevor’s surprise, most of the people in the crowd were wearing the colorful Key stones that he had researched when he had found Marie’s necklace. And be it another necklace, a bracelet, ring or earrings, a broach or even a hairpiece, he looked from one person to the next and he saw Keys of all shapes and sizes. The striking colors were hard to miss, now that he was looking. At first he thought it was mostly the women. But on closer inspection, he saw guys had watches with Key stones in them, as well as cuff links and even some shoe decorations. No doubt the necklaces they had tucked under their shirts adorned them as well.

He thought it amazingly peculiar, but he didn’t have too much time to think about it. His turn was up.

A man named Titus was his opponent. He had striking features and was much bigger than average size. With his super dark skin he looked very intimidating. He had had some good days in the Pit, but Trevor knew his best days were behind him. While he looked intimidating, that wasn’t enough when your opponents as a rule refused to be intimidated. And as it turns out, he had taken a bad fall during training a few months back and hasn’t been the same since. His knee, his ankle, his something, wasn’t healing well and it was obviously still bothering him. And the fact that he had paired him against Trevor for his first match back said Jesse didn’t think he was long for the challenge anymore.

That didn’t mean Titus wasn’t dangerous. Not by a long shot. Trevor knew he could take him, but he had to force himself to focus. If he didn’t push everything out of his mind he’d end up taking another direct blow to the head, and he wouldn’t be able to blame it on someone tripping him this time. Breathing was so important to Trevor to achieve an inner calm. Not deep breaths so much as slow and steady. When he focused on his breathing, everything else was pushed back. And when the fight started, his instincts were allowed to take over.

Titus gave Trevor a nod, and Trevor returned it, and that was how a fight started in the Pit. No wasted time. Guys knew better than to charge Trevor. It hadn’t worked yet, and more often than not ended in a quick knockout. But Titus came at Trevor aggressively, no doubt hoping to catch Trevor a little on the rusty side.

What Titus couldn’t know was that Trevor and rusty weren’t a thing. He was a natural at this. Not just the fighting itself so much as the motion and the observation of his opponents. He was a step ahead of everyone who stepped in against him, because he could either see a move developing or knew the most logical next move based on the skill level of the fighter. And in the split seconds available to him as he countered that move, he planned his own. Not in reaction to what he was seeing, but in response to what he felt was coming. Sometimes he guessed wrong, but not often. And if he did, he would manage to push off and try again. If he wasn’t worried about taking a hit from someone, he stayed inside and hit harder and better. He might have to take a punch or a knee to his ribs, but by the time that happened he had often landed 2 or 3 of his own hits. Usually the hits he took were not nearly full strength. He never stopped moving, and was never out of control.

If his opponent was really strong like Titus, he hit and retreated until he knew he could connect with something that would slow him down, if not stun. Once the stun came, Trevor would finish things, but not with everything he had. He would usually floor the opponent and knock them out with a well-placed elbow, which was something he had actually taken the time to study so he didn’t do the damage Crusher had done to him. Sometimes when they were so dazed they could barely walk but still refused to yield, Trevor used pressure points to lay them out. The name of the game down here was pummeling and blood, the more the better, and Trevor’s leniency to opponents would sometimes upset the crowd. And Jesse. But he was good enough now no one squawked too much anymore. And that made Trevor happy. Bloodlust wasn’t a thing for him either.

These massive fighters like Titus were like heavy hitters in baseball. If they connect, look out, they will hit the tar off the ball. But that’s a big if. Those hitters also usually strike out more than most. Pitchers learn the pitches and locations that give them the most trouble, and stick to that. What makes it a battle worth watching is whether or not the pitcher will make a mistake.

And that is what Titus’ career hung on these days. The mistakes of others. In baseball, the chances of that power hitter connecting off a pitcher that was actually hitting his spots is probably around 1 in 5. In the Pit though, power hitters could have a much higher success ratio. Granted Titus was hurt and on the decline, he still won more matches than he lost, because he was a veteran that knew how to cause his opponents to make mistakes. If you let him do that, you were toast. No human is taking much abuse from an experienced fighter with arms the size of a steel girder.

Of course Trevor the anomaly was every bit as powerful as Titus. And his speed was unmatched so far. He was the heavy hitter that could take the walk and steal some bases. More than that, he often knew exactly what pitch was coming, and where it would hit the mitt. That’s why this fight against Titus would be easy. And that’s why he hadn’t lost, even taken a big hit, until his last time here with Jesse’s attempt to balance the cards a bit.

So Titus came at Trevor, tepidly aggressive, trying to show a confidence Trevor knew he didn’t have against him. He favored his right leg, and was left handed, so without even thinking about it, when Trevor moved it was towards that leg.

Doing so caused Titus to start shuffling more than stepping, making it awkward to keep up. Trevor felt a pang of regret for having to fight this fight. Trying to convince himself it was OK because Titus chose to get in the Pit wasn’t helping. Like so many fighters, this was all they had. All they knew. Those were the type of people Jesse liked the best. The more control he had, the happier he was.

And so Trevor opted to make it quick. In a move that never would have worked against a healthy Titus, Trevor darted in and made for a sweep of Titus’ bad leg, spinning a full 360 degrees. Except he shortened the sweep, never really extending his own leg and thus coming out if it much sooner than Titus could have anticipated. Between that and Titus’ over reaction to protecting his injury, Trevor had a split second where Titus was completely vulnerable.

Out of his spin, Trevor hit an exposed Titus in the throat with the webbing of his hand. This reeled Titus back a bit, off balance, but didn’t hurt him too badly. Having bought himself more time, Trevor darted behind Titus and crouched, punching the back of the knee on his good leg. Unable to hold his massive weight with his bad leg, Titus’ legs buckled and he fell to his knees. With a well-placed elbow to the base of his skull, Titus fell forward, unconscious but not seriously damaged. Match over.

It all happened so fast it took a second or two for the crowd to realize what happened, and then all at once broke out in a crescendo of cheers. Trevor would have liked to admit that didn’t make him feel good, but it did. At first, it always did.

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Everyone in the room seemed happy with the result, except for the obvious few who bet against Trevor, thinking he had been out long enough for Titus to take advantage. Those were the same people that always thought they were smarter than everyone else when they played the long odds. They usually lost no matter what they were betting on.

And of course, Jesse was looking on, not with an angry look, but definitely unimpressed.

Great.

Trevor didn’t like too much fanfare, so after a few acknowledgments to the crowd, he walked out of the human made ring and through the crowd that formed it, getting numerous pats on his shoulders and back, and the occasional ass squeeze. He headed towards the back corner of the building where the water station was, where he would get a few fist bumps from the fighters as he walked past them. But most of them always did their best to look the other way, which suited Trevor just fine on a normal day.

“Remember.”

Trevor was about halfway through the crowd when he heard it, and stopped abruptly. He heard it like it was right next to his ear, and it was perfectly clear despite the loud, incessant buzz of the crowd.

”Remember.”

He spun around, but no one was close enough to him for such clarity, and now he was getting some questioning looks from a few patrons. Embarrassed, he forced himself to continue to the water station even though he was afraid moving might keep the voice from returning.

And he was right. The voice didn’t return.

Disappointed, Trevor scanned the room as if he was going to spy a ghost or something hanging in a corner. He chuckled at himself for the thought.

Trevor is not at all spooked by such things. He long ago accepted there’s much more to the world than our five senses can realize. And that fact greatly intrigued him. He’d also had a few experiences, things that popped in and out of existence real quick, or the occasional light in the sky that didn’t move around like anything in the sky should. His overly keen nose also belied some people, who didn’t smell like a human but also weren’t wearing any kind of artificial scent. Yes, he could tell these things. No, he didn’t know why.

And of course he’d done plenty of research on the internet about this sort of thing too. As much as could be done and believed anyway. Sometimes he thought his imagination got carried away. Sometimes he knew he just wanted something different for this life, because ultimately he didn’t enjoy too much of what it had to offer. But in the end, he always settled on believing the human race as being largely deceived. There was a group out there that benefitted with a distracted and anxiety ridden populace. A populace that would like to think they’ve got life all figured out, when in fact 95% or more of that life is beyond their range of observation. The mere thought of such a thing has been twisted into being heretical, which offers a great convenience for the Archontic governors of shadows. People have lost the eyes to see.

Trevor was broken out of his thoughts when he noticed one of the other fighters walking his way. He was surprised because it was odd for him to be spoken to so directly. Then he realized he was still standing in front of the water. He nodded at the fighter, who had unwillingly adopted the name UPS because he wore all brown all the time. But he made the most of it by saying he wore brown so that the splatter wouldn’t be so obvious when he knocked the shit out you.

Trevor moved to the side, but UPS followed him over. Apparently he actually did want to talk.

“Hey man, how’s the head?” he asked.

“Headaches stopped day before yesterday, thanks,” Trevor replied. Which was entirely untrue, but he didn’t know how close this guy was to Jesse.

“That’s cool. That was a pretty nasty hit you took. Elbow right to the head. By Crusher of all people. How’d that happen anyway?” asked brown.

Still not wanting anything to get back to Jesse, Trevor offered with a shrug, “I chose the worst time in my life to trip over my own feet, I guess. Just had them moving too fast for my brain. Or vice versa, depending on how that works.”

UPS chuckled, trying to act amused. Trevor got the distinct feeling he wasn’t.

“Well, I was just wondering why Jesse put you in the doghouse? Not to mention Fifty status. Kinda curious considering you’ve been his main man for a while now.”

Being in the doghouse in the Pit meant your last two of three fights were back to back in the tourney style set up Jesse liked. If you won your fights, of course. It never bothered Trevor that much because he wasn’t often exerted to his max. But for some fighters it meant the difference between a good night and a bad one. And the favored fighters didn’t often have to deal with that problem. Apparently it was Trevor’s problem today, though he hadn’t taken the time to look at the bracket yet.

“Ahh, well I guess I stayed on the IR for a day too long for Jesse’s taste,” Trevor said. He decided at that point his need to know eclipsed his desire to avoid looking like an idiot. “And anyway, what the hell is ‘Fifty status’?”

“What? You don’t know? Didn’t get the memo when you signed up?” UPS said with an incredulous laugh.

“I know what it means, that he’s pissed off with whoever he might be talking about. But what does it actually stand for?”

UPS gave him a curious look, as if to say he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Man, you really don’t get around much down here, do you? Talk to anyone at all?”

UPS looked around, like he didn’t want anyone to overhear him having to be the one to tell Trevor the up and up.

“Fifty means final fucking try, man. And it’s also supposedly the number of guys he has at his disposal to keep you in line, though no one knows just how true that is. I wouldn’t want to be one to find out!”

Trevor looked at UPS, thoughts racing through his head. That confirmed two suspicions. One, that there was no end to the fighting unless Jesse was ready to let you leave. Not without serious repercussions. And secondly, no doubt Jesse had had some henchmen following him around. Spying on him. He knew Trevor could have come back sooner.

The anger Trevor felt must have registered on his face, because UPS raised his hands up about waist height and said, “Whoa man, whoa. Take it easy. For as good as you are, this can’t be your first rodeo, right? You can’t come in here, sign a contract, turn into Jesse’s cash cow, and then expect to start playing games. Like it or not, you’re in the thick of it with the rest of us. That’s a fact of life you’re just going to have to accept.”

“C’mon,” Trevor chided, “That contract is bullshit. What, does he have an army of lawyers too?”

UPS closed his eyes and slightly shook his head in frustration. “Sure, the contract is a symbolic gesture. But Jesse, he doesn’t need lawyers. He is the law and enforcer in this place. And beyond, if need be. You can’t mess with that.”

Maybe UPS intended on helping Trevor calm down, but that just pissed him off more. Mostly because he was right. Unbeknownst to the other fighters down here, this of course was his first rodeo. He was clueless to the max. He was so desperate to get away from his last pathetic job, and thought this opportunity was a great idea to motivate him to stay in shape. When Jesse had flashed the money potential in front of his eyes, he couldn’t wait to sign up. He hadn’t read anything too closely and hadn’t asked many questions.

Well, crap.

Just then, Trevor saw Jesse up on his make shift stage he used for announcements. UPS followed his gaze and saw him as well, Jesse somehow staring at the both of them with a single gaze, and promptly made a bee line to a place that wasn’t next to Trevor. Trevor watched UPS leave, and then brought his gaze back to the stage. Jesse kept staring, refusing to drop his eyes. Trevor’s vision narrowed, the challenge flipping a switch. Putting Jesse at the end of a short tunnel where there was nothing else to see but that stare.

A second ago, Trevor was intimidated, feeling trapped and alone. But Jesse’s stare awakened something within. As Trevor returned with his own gaze, all those insecure feelings were subdued, and replaced not with irritation or even anger, but with confidence. He became centered, felt balanced. He zeroed in on Jesse’s eyes, and he knew by what he felt that he no longer looked like a scared rabbit to his challenger.

Nothing else in the room existed

Trevor settled into it, knowing this game was an important one. One he had no intentions of losing. He didn’t focus on his stare, he just let it be, and focused more on staying within himself so that he remained calm. And to do so in a way that neither Jesse nor anyone else would be able to tell it took any effort at on his part. He lost track of time, but after at least half a minute the roar of the crowd threatened to interrupt them. Jesse was visibly angered by the fact the ongoing match had ended, and his attention was needed. Grudgingly, he broke eye contact with Trevor, and announced the winner of the match. Trevor used that opportunity to get some more water, so he didn’t have to go through that again. He was happy he didn’t back down, but he didn’t think it wise to facilitate another challenge again.

Once the adrenaline faded, he felt more exposed than ever. He was being openly confronted? Damn if he didn’t know if Jesse was just messing with him, or if he was truly so slighted by Trevor’s antics. Maybe he sensed his doubt. Not that he wanted to give Jesse THAT much credit. But now he truly didn’t know where this was headed, and how far it was going to go. And he would get no help down here.

All of a sudden he was on the verge of feeling claustrophobic. The heat, the mixed smells of body odor and perfume and the resulting thick, acrid air, it was all starting to overwhelm. His tried and true instincts were t

telling him to run. To get out, and not look back.

But how? The exit was on the far side of the room, and Trevor had no reasonable expectation of actually being allowed to walk out of his own volition. Just then he realized Jesse had stopped his PA. Not wanting to look at him directly, he tried to catch him in his peripheral as best he could.

Sure enough, it seemed Jesse was looking directly at him again. And now, he could feel it. Almost like heat on the side of his face exposed to the stare. He tried to appear calm, but he was anything but. He looked around, trying to see if anyone else that was paying too much attention to him, but gladly saw no one.

“Remember,” came the voice again. Not at the best of times, all things considered. He didn’t need something else to think about. And to make things utterly worse, he heard his name announced for the next scheduled fight. It seemed too soon, but he had lost track of what was happening around him. The panic inside was reaching a crescendo.

He made his way to the ring made of reeking human flesh. In his current state, the smell and feel of it all disgusted him almost to the point of nausea. The sweaty bodies and the strong, greedy desire and expectation for more violence. He could sense it all now. While his stomach threatened to betray him, the sounds in the room became an almost deafening buzz, and his itchy eyes registered everything with a hyper sensitivity. At some other time it would have been amusing, but now it made him jumpy and see threats that weren’t there.

“Remember”.

With all that was going on within him, the voice actually took him by surprise this time. It had been louder than before. Still a whisper, but a loud one that seemed to be right behind his left ear. When he whipped around, he immediately regretted it looking at the surprised faces of those behind him. He thought for sure he must appear to be losing his mind now. Was he?

Right as Trevor reached the clearing, he started to jump in place as if to warm up, but in actuality to cover his panic and do something normal to help ease his mind. But Jesse wasted no time in adding the cherry on the top of his mania. He announced his opponent, a tall, lanky fellow corded with muscle. Charger, of course, the one responsible for his concussion, and the only one of dozens to win a fight with Trevor in the Pit. Fair or not.

This was almost enough to overwhelm him. He felt like dropping to his knees. He wouldn’t have minded another fair and honest match with Charger. The man was one of the legit challenges that he’d faced working for Jesse. But Trevor had no preconceived notions at this point about having a fair and honest fight. His mind was racing with the implications of what was happening. As Jesse’s vile voice spoke over the microphone about a long awaited rematch, a million things ran through Trevor’s head. Was he being set up to take a big hit again? Had Charger been charged with putting him in the hospital, or worse? Had his water been drugged?

As the thoughts raced, breaths became harder to come by. His head started to pound in memory of where Charger connected with his elbow last time. His stomach still threatened to expose his last meal to the crowd. In an act of desperation, he did something he’d never thought he’d do.

Trevor threw his hands up.

“I YIELD!!”

The buzz was gone, instantly. Every single pair of eyes turned towards him. His face flushed with embarrassment. Some of the patrons in the crowd, the ones who probably remembered the hit he took from Charger last time, started laughing, thinking Trevor was joking around, even though the fighters never joked down in the Pit. Either because fighting was such serious business or so few of them actually had any personalities.

“I yield. I will not fight this fight.”

Now that Trevor had pressed on, the crowd began to get angry. At first it started as a low crescendo of displeasure, but each passing moment the anger increased until eventually people were cursing and yelling and throwing their hands in the air.

Trevor looked over to Charger, who stood still, his taped fists together at the knuckles in front of his chest. Elbows out, his feet spread and his face stoic, he looked like a statue of death come to seize him. Right behind him still on his platform was Jesse, looking down on him with a smug smirk on his face. Trevor had expected him to be angry. But this…in a way, was worse because it meant what Trevor did in giving up the fight wasn’t entirely unexpected. Or something undesired. In any case, Jesse seemed to be ready for it. And that wasn’t good.

Oddly enough though, Trevor felt himself returning to normal. Nothing drove him crazier than the unknown. But now things were pretty much out in the open. Trevor had shown his hand, now it was time for Jesse to finally show his.

And he did, in the form of at least half a dozen toughs morphing out of the crowd at once, into the center of the ring. They were all as tall as Charger and more massive. Trevor didn’t immediately recognize any of them. Not that it mattered.

Trevor was a great fighter, but there was no way to survive this if it came to blows. Not that he thought he could make a run for it, but Trevor spared a glance behind him and saw four more huge bodies fill up the empty space the crowd had created as they retreated to make room for whatever was coming. He was surrounded, and there were just too many to deal with. The crowd now, having backed up and out of the way, was more densely packed. Even if he were to get lucky and find a weak spot in the line of muscle around him, he didn’t think the crowd would just let him waltz through.

Jesse’s thugs were making a spectacle of the situation, at first standing tall, to look as menacing as possible for the crowd. Then most of them gained their fighting stances, and started in slow but lurching, like a Viking shield wall without the shields. Trevor didn’t panic now. It was an impossible situation, but he still was in his element. He’d gotten through some crazy situations before, and he’d just have to rely on his instincts to pull through.

Wait. He had?

None of his fights in the Pit had been overly stressful, aside from the first few and maybe the match with Charger. His life outside of the Pit lately had hardly been overly exciting. Yet, memories threatened to break free about situations similar to this one, and a sixth sense was telling him he had been trained for this. He may very well be minutes away from his own death, but all of a sudden his heart soared. His elation was as positively overwhelming as the negative was just moments ago. So much so that it stopped the brutes in front of him in their tracks, not understanding the change in his expression.

Without warning those memories began coming back to him full force. A childhood he loved, training that was fun and useful, an old wizardly looking man as his instructor. And friends. His best friends. Trevor had not been alone. He had been one of three. And was now once again.

“Weeeeeee”, cried an excited voice behind him. “Yes! We did it!”

“It’s about time you let us through Trev!” came another voice, this one a low, rumbling baritone that you could feel as well as hear, to the other’s more high pitched and elated. Trevor whipped around and stumbled back a step. Less due to the surprise of the situation and more to the sheer size of the biggest man he’d ever seen. And next to him, a girl about four inches short of Trevor’s six-ish feet. Both had striking appearances. The male had skin the rich, dark brown of wenge with a peculiar slight tinge of blue, complete with hard, corded muscle all along his giant frame. The other, tawny skinned with her long, dark and silky hair set in a ponytail, barely able to contain her excitement.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the girl gave Trevor a mountain sized hug, and he returned it in kind. Their names had yet to grace his memory, but these were his only two real friends, besides his mentor whose face he now clearly remembered. They had all grown up together under that man’s watchful tutelage, learning the ways of battle and the ways of life. Often learning they were one in the same.

They had all gladly dedicated their lives to mastery of physical arts and enlightenment. As well as to each other.

And they had just appeared out of nowhere.