Wheezing, bloody and injured, Joe tumbled into the hallway, his shoulder bouncing off the wall as he fell to the ground, leaving behind a bloody smear. Behind the closing door, two mangled bodies could be seen, bones protruding from the skin like a grotesque monument. Both men's eyes were closed, pulverised arms placed across their respective chests as a sign of respect.

It was a hard worn battle. Joe had taken a beating early on, the number advantage proving disastrous for the inexperienced fighter. He had scored a lucky punch against the russian which had broken the fellows arm who had raised a hasty defense. That was the beginning of the end of the budding partnership. Joe's overwhelming personal strength, ridiculous stamina and durability outlasted and outclassed the pair despite their obvious skill. One punch from Joe was cataclysmic, his strength breaching the superhuman since his stair climb.

Still, the men persevered, wearing Joe down like one would wear down a monster in the wild. Then in a burst of rage, Joe lashed out with a leg that took the exhausted russian in the chest, crumpling his sternum and thus his lungs. Death came slowly to the poor man who gurgled his last breath, his ultimate thoughts unknown. Now one on one, it was a battle of attrition. But who was Joe, he had completed the 144 steps, he was stamina incarnate. And thus, the man who hadn’t uttered a single word, lay dead, neck broken from a mighty punch.

Joe coughed up bloody phlegm as he reorientated himself against the wall. He felt no pleasure in killing those men, just respect. For the first time in his life he felt like a warrior and he hoped, when his time came, he would go to the other side in the same admirable way that his opponents had done, nameless as they were. With that thought in mind, he resolved to discover the identities of the men so that he could pay his respects to their memory properly.

_____

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Hour after hour passed as Joe recovered his strength and his wounds healed. Whilst he waited, he reflected on his three fights thus far, reliving the desperation and the exhilaration. The guilt and the respect. He replayed the fights in his mind, especially the last, looking for ways to improve his own form, his efficiency, his skills. He remembered old karate movies and boxing shows. Anything to improve his chances of survival.

Before long the door from whence he came opened again. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the door, today would not be the day he died.

—----

Once again back in the sand arena, Joe’s eyes were drawn to the spot where he had left the challenger’s bodies. All that gave evidence of their existence were two dark patches where their blood had run. Joe nodded once in that direction as he took his place at the edge of the arena. He was the first so he would wait.

He did not have to wait long as almost simultaneously three walls rose revealing the challengers within. Each as dirty as the other, they emerged, eyeing each other warily. Joe shifted on his feet, he would not be caught unawares. One challenger was a stocky looking woman, standing at around 5 ft tall, she could be easily mistaken for a dwarf of lore. In her hand she held a chain that was partially wrapped around her wrist. Joe noted this weapon, today he would learn a great deal, most likely from painful lessons. The next challenger was a stark juxtaposition to the stocky woman, as he was a tall bald male, his left eye pale and watery. Joe noted this possible weakness and moved onto the man’s weapon. In his hand he held what looked like a fire poker. It was as black as soot and had a slight bend at its end possibly indicating prior use. Likely battering some poor soul to death Joe considered. The third individual was an enigma, hooded as he or she was. The person was of an average height but was slumped within baggy clothing obscuring their true size. At the person’s waist a twine belt was tied which held a sheaf that held what appeared to be a knife of some sort. Joe’s initial inclination was to dismiss this individual but the hairs on the back of his neck begged to differ. This person was dangerous. The four eyed each other up cataloguing obvious weaknesses and strengths. Joe had the club from the previous fight and he hefted it onto his shoulder. This was not going to be a fight. It would be a bloody battle.