Two Collars

A tall man wearing a black collar around his neck walked through a dark corridor until a bright light hit him square in the eyes, blinding him momentarily. Once his sight readjusted, he found himself in a dirty, poorly maintained fighting arena. A horrible smell permeated the entire thing, betraying all the deaths that had occurred in it before. Speakers were affixed to each side of the arena, looming over the one hundred contestants currently in the arena.

This man, named Collar after the torture contraption strapped to his neck, looked over his competition. Most of them were humans, with a few others of different species sprinkled in. They all wielded weapons, some more shoddy looking than others, their quality revealing what order each fighter entered the arena in.

Collar glanced at his empty hands. He had the poor luck to be sent into the arena last, just as they had run out of weapons to distribute. A fact the other warriors didn’t let slip past them.

“It does my heart well to see so many eager candidates volunteer to join my little operation. I understand you lot understand the value of gold and want more. More than you could ever spend in your lifetime. Is that right?” A voice echoed through the arena.

The man gritted his teeth.

“Hurry it up.” He said.

The other contestants, however, smiled and raised their weapons at the words of their future boss.

“I asked if you bastards want to be rich!”

To this, every contestant yelled at their top of the lungs. All but one of them cheered, as Collar looked even more impatient.

“Then let the carnage begin! The last one standing will partake in riches beyond their imagination!”

At his call, all the contestants ran from their spot, kicking up a mountain of dust behind them.

The arena descended into a vicious melee. Singled out for not having a weapon, several opponents targeted Collar the moment the fight broke out.

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This would be a long, bloody night.

---

A silence set in over the arena. What had been a one hundred man battle was now reduced to only one.

Finished with the battle, Collar inspected his damage. At this point, his body was covered in blood, flowing the multitude of wounds he had suffered. Many bits of weapons were still affixed to his frame, having broken off when they struck him. They were injuries that would have taken him down already, perhaps even killed him, were it not for his special body.

Collar brought his fingers to one hole that had been put in him. He could feel his pierced lung scream in agony.

“I’ll have to sleep this off.” He said to himself.

“How about one round with me first?”

Collar quickly turned to face the source of the voice. It was a red-haired man of equal height to him and an even stockier build. And he was weaponless, just like Collar.

“Where did you come from? I thought we were only one hundred here.”

“Oh, and I suppose you counted all the bodies to make sure there were ninety-nine of them?”

“I was the only one who didn’t receive a weapon, and you don’t have any wounds after such a long fight.”

“You’re sharp.” Said the man, smiling.

“Whatever. I don’t care if you somehow hid from me or if this is some sick form of favoritism by the boss. I’ll beat down a thousand more of you if that’s what it takes.”

“That’s the spirit! Come here and show me what you got!”

The two men fought for what felt like hours. Collar grit through the pain of his wounds and returned each strike he received with one of his own. What were painful blows to Collar appeared to not affect his opponent as he showed little discomfort even when receiving hits to his vital areas.

“You’re damn resilient.” Said the red-haired heavyweight.

“And you’re damn annoying.” Barked Collar.

The man laughed and looked to the side. In the dark outside the arena, a tall female figure stood, tossing a knife about. She gave a thumbs-up, and the red-haired man let out a relieved sigh.

“Pretty impressive that you can stand and fight with such wounds, friend. We can stop now.”

“Am I hired?” Asked Collar.

“Yes.” The red-haired man smiled. “Welcome to the group. My name is Tor.”

Tor extended his arm for the handshake.

Sighing and wincing as the air went through his pierced lung, he locked in the handshake with the strongman.

“Just...take me to Yon.”

Tor looked surprised by the aloofness in the man’s tone but figured that it was just due to the pain he must be in.

“Sure, come with me.”