Fingers clenched into Jay's shoulders. He knew there was no escaping this. Jay slowly turned around, careful not to do anything to provoke whoever had just grabbed a hold of him.
The towering man spat out a few words of gibberish. Jay understood nothing, but he could feel the scorn beneath the man’s voice. He shrugged, hoping body language was universal.
It wasn’t.
It really wasn’t.
The firm grip on his shoulder switched to the neck of Jay's robes as the man yanked Jay closer. Annoyed mutters became agitated shouts. Warm breath and globs of spit coated Jay's face as he was berated in an unknown language.
Jay tried to act as meek as possible. He wasn’t winning this fight, no point in starting it.
But years of fighting left the irremovable spark of defiance in a fighter’s eyes, and Jay was a boxer not an actor. The more he tried to sit back and take it, the angrier the man holding him got.
After a string of gibberish, that Jay could only imagine was a comprehensive list of insults, the woman behind Jay bailed him out. She spoke to the guard, and eventually said enough to calm the man down. Or rather, calm him down enough to release Jay and return to his job still angry.
He scribbled something down on a notepad and glared at both Jay and the woman before moving onto the next in line.
Jay received another glare from his saviour as she pointed away from the gate and started walking.
“What the fuck was that about? Are you some kind of idiot, why would you remove your universal translator? And did you just forget to sign out? You’re gonna be in deep shit when you go back, I’m surprised that fool even let you out.” She said, slightly flustered but more astounded at Jay’s actions.
The pair followed the train of people exiting the gate. Jay felt stares digging into his back but didn’t hush his voice as he replied to the woman who helped him. He was grateful for her help and concern, but not particularly fussed about any consequences.
He was already out the gate, and nothing could ever convince him to step back into that flaming prison.
“That only matters if I go back.” He said. “And I’m getting as far away from that hellhole as possible.”
Jay couldn’t tell if the woman admired his bravery or was simply shocked at his stupidity. She studied his face for a moment before responding.
“You’re such a fucking idiot. There are protocols for that you know! You don’t just decide one day it’s your time to go and walk out!”
“Oh well. A lesson learned I guess.” Jay shrugged.
He didn’t give a damn about the Flaming Tomb’s protocols. All he cared about right now was putting as much distance between himself and those giant metal gates as possible.
“So you’re just leaving?”
“Yep.” Jay said, splintering from the precession as he ducked into a side alley. “And if you had any sense, you would too.”
Jay didn’t even check to see her response. He turned and ran in the straightest line possible away from the Flaming Tomb Alliance. Best to get some distance before he thought about the next step.
After five minutes of running, Jay stopped to take a breather and assess his options.
The only lead I have is the Celestial Swords tavern. But how do I even go about finding it? I’m on an unknown street, in an unknown city, on an unknown island.
An unknown planet too, can’t forget that part.
After a few minutes of planning, Jay decided to try and find the Second Chance Coliseum itself. It seemed like an important part of the island, so Jay hoped there would be a lot of people there. Hopefully someone there could guide him in the right direction.
Last time Jay walked through the city’s winding alleyways he had to hurry after Aras. This time, he took the opportunity to observe the empty alleyways he walked through.
Not that there was much to note, most of the buildings were made with the same tan stone, none of them looked particularly ornate, but they all seemed well maintained. Jay didn’t see a single neglected building as he walked the secluded streets. The occasional balcony overlooked the cobblestone alleyway, but none seemed particularly ornamental.
The spartan streets remained pragmatic and practical. Much like the uniform buildings that neighboured the Flaming Tomb’s gate, they carried a soldier-like order.
After a few minutes marching down the utilitarian alleyways, Jay shifted gears. He closed his eyes and listened.
Jay hoped he was near the coliseum. It would make sense, since he was within walking distance from where he left the beige room, which had to be at least close to the coliseum.
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Right?
Then again, it would also make sense for the exit to actually be the coliseum. Not a random nearby room.
When he focused, Jay heard faint murmurs ahead of him, so he continued onwards.
The murmurs only got louder as he walked. After another minute of walking, Jay began to feel it. The buzz of a crowd, the intangible anticipation only present in large enough groups. He snaked his way through the alleys, knowing any of the next turns might be the last. Knowing he was soon to be face to face with the Second Chance Coliseum.
He wondered what it might look like, was it anything like the Colosseum in Rome? A fading relic of an ancient era. Or was it more like a modern arena? Jay hadn’t seen much technology here, but they had floating gold screens that could project fights from camera angles that didn’t exist.
Jay realised he still knew nothing about those golden boxes, or anything really.
Q had told him where he was: Arenara Fortunis, the Second Chance Coliseum, the planet Eterna. But he hardly knew what any of those things meant. Every other item on Jay’s List of Confusing Shit was even further from being answered. Jay hoped Akira had some answers for him, he sure needed some.
Still sandwiched by buildings, Jay rounded the final bend. There was light at the end of the alleyway.
The brilliant white of the Second Chance Coliseum.
Inside the alley, all Jay could see was a wall of white smothering the horizon. He kept walking forward, eager to get a better view of the coliseum. He had to be at least a few hundred metres away, but the coliseum dwarfed any stadium Jay had ever seen, it dwarfed any building Jay had ever seen. Sheer walls of marble rose from the ground, soaring towards the heavens, looking more like a mountain than a coliseum. Jay couldn’t tell where the coliseum ended and where the clouds began.
He stepped out of the alleyway into an enormous courtyard. Statues of gladiators dotted the pavilion, but Jay couldn’t keep his eyes off the coliseum for long enough to examine them. He kept walking closer, completely enraptured by the megastructure.
Countless carvings of gladiators adorned the coliseum’s stone façade. The flawless stonework captured the essence of each fighter, as if their very souls were embedded within the stone. Thousands upon thousands of statues were inset into the stadium walls, wrapping around the coliseum.
Fighters immortalised into the annals of history, far beyond mere entries in a record book.
Jay stayed there, standing still for who knows how long. Simply staring. Unaware of anything but the coliseum standing in front of him.
Wow.
----------------------------------------
When Jay finally dragged his eyes away from the coliseum, he searched for someone to ask for directions. A long line of people queued in front of an ornate arched entrance; many others ambled about the pavilion circling the coliseum. Some seemed excited, giddy tourists just happy to be there, others walked with the thousand-yard stare reserved for city dwellers that wanted anything but a conversation.
Jay looked for a friendly face to ask for directions.
“Hey, excuse me, could you tell me where the Celestial Swords tavern is?” he asked a group of people.
They all gave him a blank look and kept walking.
He asked another group. This time Jay knew they understood him, he could see it in their eyes, but still they kept walking. The same two interactions happened five more times before Jay couldn’t help himself and burst out laughing.
New planet, new island. City people never change.
It’s like I never left London.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
Jay turned to see a strange moustached man, dressed in all white with a red parrot perched on his shoulder. The man, and the parrot, looked right at him.
Jay nodded, wary of the only other person in the pavilion that actually wanted to talk.
What kind of weirdo does that? Jay thought, realising he was just as bad as everyone who’d ignored him.
“I’m looking for the Celestial Swords tavern.” Jay said.
The man brought up his hand. It looked like he conferred with the parrot behind it for a few seconds. Weirdly, it was the bird’s beak that opened to reply to him.
“Head anticlockwise one eighth till you reach Reveller’s Avenue. I don’t remember how far it is, but it’s on that road somewhere. Just keep looking.”
Jay tried to hide his surprise at the talking parrot, not wanting to appear rude to the nice bird that had just helped him. He thanked the parrot, and the man, before turning and following their directions.
“And ask to buy a universal translator when you’re there!” the parrot shouted from behind him. turned to thank the pair once more and saw the man giggling as he waved Jay off.
An eighth didn’t seem like a long distance. But when it was around a circle as big as the Second Chance Coliseum, the steps quickly added up. Now that he had a goal to work towards, the coliseum became slightly less alluring. Although Jay still caught himself staring at it from time to time. He continued his way around the pavilion to Reveller’s Avenue, until a statue in his path caught his eye.
All the statues were of gladiators. Some wore full suits of armour; some wore robes just like his own. Some held swords, some held spears, and others wielded weapons Jay had never seen before.
But this one was different.
This one was a boxer.
Jay looked up at the statue. The statues in the pavilion, unlike the coliseum, weren’t all made of white marble. Each one had its own unique material. This one was an orange speckled granite. A golden screen that popped up at the base of the statue let Jay know why.
Manos de Granito
203-1
Champions are made. Not born.
Well said ‘Hands of Granite’. Durán would be proud.
Jay looked up at his fellow boxer. It gave him hope, someone like him had been here before and had succeeded, 203 wins was no joke. Jay chose not to dwell on the singular line next to the number though. Most fighters ended their careers with at least a few losses. This guy only had one.
Jay didn’t need to be told why.
It wasn’t sadness or regret that filled Jay as he looked at his predecessor, but resolve. Jay felt like the spirit of the boxer ran through him as he looked up at the statue. It made him want to punch, want to fight, want to win. He felt his fists harden as he clenched them. He felt them yearn to fight. Jay raised his fist in the air towards the statue before returning on his way to Reveller's Avenue. A silent salute to one that came before.
Jay glanced at the pop ups of the other statues as he walked past other statues. Checking them out but not stopping to think.
All of them had hundreds of wins.
All of them had only one loss.
Jay left the pavilion with a weight hanging over him. He held up his chest, no use getting stressed about inevitabilities. He too was a gladiator now. He had to act like one.