Joe found a hole in the ground hidden within an alcove where he performed his postprandial business. He looked round for a place to wash his hands, and then felt a bit daft for considering such an action in his current circumstances. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he sat with back against the wall to await whatever was to come. He could only assume more of the same and that he had been placed into a form of barbaric competition, where losing meant death, mutilation and or failure. Would he be willing to kill again? He wondered, rubbing his knee absentmindedly. ‘if I must’ came to reply from within. ‘If I must’.
Before too long the door he had used to enter opened revealing the fighting pit once more. He entered the pit, flaring his nostrils as the smell from the torches brushed his senses. Behind him the door rumbled shut and as he stood there, a yell came from the ceiling from where a body descended. Joe stood waiting at the edge of the pit, watching the figure regain his feet. Her feet. Joe's eyes widened as the unmistakable female form presented itself before him. Her hair was a mess, her clothes sodden and ruined, without shoes nor perhaps makeup but truly, a woman. Joe had not considered this outcome and froze in indecision.
The woman however, upon noticing Joe and his struck behaviour smiled wickedly for a moment, the evil of which was accentuated by the low level torchlight. Another moment and the wickedness was gone, replaced with a honeyed smile and a tearful gaze. “ Oh finally” she wailed, “a strong man to rescue me from my woe” she dramatically drew the back of her hand across her brow. “ Help me, mine champion!” She scuttled closer to Joe. Joe’s emotions were going haywire. One moment he was wrestling with the possible murder of a woman, the next he was witnessing a bizarre, poorly acted, poorly worded display of damsel in distress. He felt a crazy urge to laugh which gave the woman the opening she sought.
The woman's eyes glimmered in the firelight as she watched Joe. Seeing his guard relax she felt a sense of sexual exultation as she caressed the handle of needle like dagger in her hand. Laughing maniacally in her mind, she launched herself at Joe who was but an arms length away, dagger point aimed for the open skin of his wrist. Making contact, she danced away, turning to look back at a confused Joe who was staring at his wrist.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The woman twirled the dagger expertly between her fingers as she crouched onto her ankles. “Won't be a moment dear” she croned, eyeing Joe up and down. “Skinny fellow like yourself 30 second max”.
Joe looked from the dagger in her hand to the mark on his wrist which was reddening by the second. As the woman said, he began to feel woozy and then as 15 heartbeats had passed, he felt his vision swim and then turn horizontal. Confused he tried to reorient his brain but this just led to nausea. For the second time that day, he threw up but this time into his own mouth. He tried to expel the waste but found his mouth unable to open. He began to choke on his own vomit.
The woman watched on expectantly as Joe clawed drunkenly at his throat. A look of surprise painted her features as she watched Joe finally open his mouth and unblock his airways. She continued to remain motionless as Joe coughed flem onto the ground, followed by a viscous black bloody mass.
Joe placed his hands onto his knees as he lent back to take a deep satisfying breath. Ah, twas truly the greatest breath he had taken. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and then took to his feet eyeing the woman. She eyed Joe with fear. “How is this possible” she screamed hysterically. In her hysteria, she charged Joe once again, dagger extended before her. Still wary of it's poisoned edge, Joe sidestepped the crazy woman, punching her square in the face. A nasty crunch erupted from his fist as the delicate bones of the womans face were pulverised. However, she was not down.
She rolled backward using the momentum from the thunderous punch, turning to glare back at him, blood streaming from the rumpled remnants of her nose, one eye distended and drooping towards her ruined cheekbone. From her throat a gurgled howl erupted as she charged him once again. Shaking his head, Joe sidestepped again, chopping down with the edge of his palm onto the exposed back of her neck. Like a flower cut from it stem, she dropped to the floor, dead. Joe looked down at her frail form emotionlessly, the silence alone broken by the opening of a different wall on the other side of the pit. The cold iron of resolve could be seen within his eyes as he strode through into the hallway to the waiting table of food; he had made his decision. Action, reaction. Cause and effect.