Jack ran out of the darkness and into the light. He gasped in a breath, and in that moment, the strength he had been denied for so long filled his lungs. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees on a rock road, but it didn't hurt.

"I'm out," Jack whispered, looking around him. "I'm in one of the fights!"

He jumped up to his feet and jumped into the air with a cry of delight. He could be like the men in Sayed's stories. He could fight. He could take down a monster and have his story told at the camp that night.

"But I don't have a weapon," he said, looking around the arena to see what he was up against.

Thump. Thump. Boom.

The crowd cheered, but all Jack could see were the ruins of buildings all around him. The buildings were falling apart, and many of them had holes that looked deep into shadow. From his position on the street, Jack couldn't see any weapons, and he couldn't see any monsters either.

"There are supposed to be monsters," he said in a huff as he started walking down the street.

He put his hands behind the back of his head as he walked. The way Sayed had always described the arena, there was always a monster to fight. There should have been other people around him as well, ready to be his allies in the fight.

He always wanted some underlings to boss around.

As he walked, he noticed that off to the side of the street was a brown metal ball, about twice as tall as he was, resting against a wall. Jack didn't hesitate. In a way that only a child could appreciate, he knew exactly what the ball was.

"Foul monster!" he yelled as she charged at the ball.

Slap.

He punched the ball but only got a hurt hand as a reward. Jack kissed his knuckles as he examined the ball, but he couldn't see what was special about it. It had a few places where there were seams, and it was too heavy for him to push. He had tried.

"Not much of a monster," Jack said, sulking to the side and putting his hands in his pockets. "Is this really how my story is going to go?"

Jack wanted nothing more than to bring back an epic story to tell. It would be such a letdown if this were all that would happen while he was in the arena. He imagined Sayed looking down at him, frowning and crossing his arms. Jack wasn't about to be a disappointment.

"Stupid ball!" Jack kicked the ball with his boot but only succeeded in stubbing his toe.

As he knelt to hold his toe from the pulsing pain that ran through it, the ball moved. It rolled slightly to the side. Jack stood up, a smile on his face and the pain forgotten. It had worked!

He jumped up and kicked it again, softer this time. It moved again, rolling away from him. He kicked it again.

"Take that, you monster!" Jack yelled out.

The ball rolled away. Jack kept following it, kicking it again and again until he had it in a corner down an alley. Jack smiled as he sauntered up to the ball. Now, there was no place for it to run. He would win. 'Jack Defeats the Ball Monster' would be the name of the story.

"Now you will perish, foul beast!" Jack yelled as he threw the final kick at the ball.

"WHO'S A BEAST!"

The ball opened up at the last moment, and a hand- a very human hand- caught Jack's foot. The ball monster picked him up, and Jack struggled against it. This was the best part of the fight. The hero was in danger. He had to pull through.

"Why are you kicking me, kid?" the ball monster asked as Jack closed his eyes and windmilled his arms to strike at the monster. "I didn't do anything to you, but you just stood there kicking me. What's wrong with you? Didn't your parents knock any sense into you?"

"My parents are dead, monster!" Jack yelled, throwing out his fist and landing a solid hit on the monster.

"Grah!" the monster yelled, and Jack fell to the ground.

He scuttled around and turned to face the monster. The thing that had been a ball was now out of its shell, and it was almost like a man, but also not. He was hunched over, clutching at his crotch, and his arms and legs were armored in brown metal. They were bent at odd angles that made him look longer than he should have been, and the armor on his arms and legs bulged out awkwardly from his body.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"What kind of monster are you?" Jack asked, taking a fighting stance.

"I'm not a monster, kid." The man grumbled as he let go of his crotch and looked Jack over. "That hurt, by the way."

"If you aren't a monster, then what are you?"

"I'm Ned. Ned 'the Needler,'" the man said, looking over Jack with goggled eyes.

"That's a weird name for a monster," Jack said, stepping back and relaxing his guard.

"I'm not a monster," Ned 'the Monster' said. "Look, kid, apologize for hitting me in my jewels, and we'll call this even."

"Why should I apologize? You're a monster, and I'm fighting you."

"Kid."

"That's the way things are in the arena."

"Kid."

"So let's fight."

"Dark Needle."

Fwip. Fwoosh.

A long black spike shot out of the man's hand. Jack ducked down using instincts forged through years on the streets and hugged the ground. He would have been skewered if he had been a second too late.

He looked up and saw the needle embedded into the wall behind him, cracks forming around it. Bits of the wall came crumbling down, and just a little fear crept up Jack's spine. That could have hit him.

"What was that for?" Jack demanded, jumping up from the ground.

"You deserved it. You aren't listening to me, and you hit me in my jewels. I'm not going to take that lying down. No man would."

"But you aren't a man. You're a monster."

"Pin-missile Volley!"

Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.

Again, through years on the street, Jack's instincts saved him. A circle of small needles shot out in a cone, and it was only by a hair's breadth that Jack avoided them. They cut into the wall where he had been, creating a circle of needles sticking out from the wall.

"That's it, kid. I wasn't going to add 'child murderer' to my crimes, but it just isn't worth it. You're going to die."

Jack could have stood and fought. He was capable of it and didn't doubt himself in the slightest bit, but Sayed had always said that the smart live to fight another day. He turned, and he ran.

----------------------------------------

Abed drew his khopesh as the light overtook him. He had been prepared for this day, as much as Sayed had told him not to worry. He was a warrior at heart and did not doubt himself. He immediately assessed his surroundings and found that he was in a stone room with light filtering in from outside. He took a breath and was invigorated by renewed strength, but he was alone.

"I must find Gramps and Jack," he said immediately. "They will be in danger."

He set off for the nearest exit, a broken door at the opposite end of the room. As he did so, he heard the announcer's words and understood their intent. There would be a culling of the people in the arena.

"There is no time to waste."

As soon as he opened the door, he saw a man in rags on the street, holding a dagger. Abed did not know this man, but he held his khopesh ready to fight. The man looked him over, and old grey eyes assessed Abed.

"I don't want to fight," the man said, shaking his dagger in his hand. "I want to go back to the maze. Leave me be."

"You say you do not wish to fight, but you hold that dagger," Abed said, taking on his stance.

"I won't be defenseless," the man said, stepping back.

"I do not have time to mince words with you," Abed said, shaking his head and staying resolute in his stance. "If you put away the dagger, you may come with me. I do not wish to kill you, but I must see to my compatriots. They will be in this arena and will need my help."

The old man looked confused, his eyes searching between the dagger and Abed. Abed remained resolute in his stance. Alone, this man was not a threat, even with his dagger. Abed could easily dispatch him, but that would not be right.

As admonishing of an older brother that Sayed could be, Abed knew that mercy was more important than anything else. That was the way of their people.

"This isn't a trick?" the old man asked.

"No," Abed said. "If you put away that dagger, I will take you with me. We might find others who do not wish to fight. Together, we can all escape this insanity."

"I want to trust you," the man said. "I've heard stories, you know, stories of a swordsman who fights down here with a heart of gold. Are you him?"

"No, that is Sayed," Abed said with a smirk. "But I am his friend. The stories are true, old man. We only wish for the freedom of all trapped in this arena, audience and prisoner alike."

Clitter-clatter.

"I never thought there were people like you," the man said as he dropped the dagger to the ground. "I ain't never met anyone in my life that didn't want something from me. That didn't want a fight or some coin. You really mean what you say?"

"I do," Abed said, rising from his stance and motioning to the dagger with his sword. "But pick that dagger back up, old man. We will find as many as we can who do not want to fight, but there will be those who do. You are right to want to defend yourself. Stay near me as we search."

The man looked down before hesitantly reaching out and grabbing the dagger. Abed wasn't sure if the man was relieved, but he wouldn't worry about it. The old man had already stated his intent by disarming himself, and Abed would help him. It was what Sayed would do, after all.

"Now follow me," Abed said. "We will search through each building, but we will not call out for my friends. We must be careful in how much attention we draw to ourselves before we have more people willing to help."

The old man nodded, and Sayed started down the street. He could hear the sounds of fighting all around him, but they were hard to pinpoint in the streets. It was no different from the civil war in that way. Fighting house to house, street to street, was always a din of chaos and confusion.

Above him, the timer ticked down, and Abed knew he had to hurry. He and the old man went from building to building, adding to their numbers when they could and disposing of those who did not want to surrender when they had to. By the end of thirty minutes, they had ten total people in their group.

However, in all that time, he never found Sayed. He never found Gramps, and he never found Jack. Abed settled himself to pray that those three would find their way in the chaos. He knew that if he did not find them, God would see to it that Sayed found them. Even with all his doubts, Abed was a man of faith. Even without Sayed's blessing, he knew God would protect them all.

"May God protect you, Saint."