Last Man Standing

Chapter 19: New Faces

An hour or so later, I woke up to the sound of voices overhead. Despite my body's need for rest, it was a welcome interruption; I couldn't stand another nightmare, especially when it involved getting blood on my own hands. Pontius' death was just another memory to add to the disgusting cycle of dreams.

I kept still to keep their conversation undisturbed, interested by the subject.

"The boy looks weak. He won't last."

"Well, apparently he killed Pontius in the pits-"

"Must have been quite a show he put on to get our Dominus to back him."

"The Doctore took some risk presenting the boy to Tiberius."

"I can't believe he actually bet on this pathetic boy!"

"It paid off in the end-"

"Nothing but luck. He won't succeed again."

"He won't make it to the coliseum."

"Let alone past training."

"He already looks like shit."

"Some of his wounds look older than the others."

"Those will turn into battle scars in no time-"

"How do you know he got those from fighting? He might just be a clumsy idiot for all we know..."

"They have to be battle wounds; the Doctore would not have taken such a risk with this boy unless he saw something that impressed him. The boy must have fought before entering the pits."

"I guess..."

"If this is what he looks like after battle, I wonder how all his opponents must have fared."

"I'm sure his winnings were nothing but flukes!"

"What's wrong, Lucius? Are you scared that the boy might beat you?"

"Not a chance. He'll need more than luck to defeat me."

"Why do you think our Doctore is making the boy carve weapons?"

"Who cares?"

"He doesn't look like he's had much sleep."

"What do you think of the others that came in last night?"

"Some potential; anything is better than this kid!"

They all broke out in laughter. I couldn't take their mindless chatter any longer, so I began to stretch and flutter my eyes open. I had fallen asleep on the bench with my half-finished sword discarded on the floor. I quickly scrambled to my feet as my eyes darted back and forth in search of my carving knife; after one look at my unwelcomed visitors, I felt the need to protect myself.

"He's finally awake!"

"Good morning, sunshine."

"Looking for this?"

One of them held my carving knife up in a taunting fashion, lightly holding the end of the hilt with his thumb and middle finger as he allowed the blade to swing side to side.

I frowned in annoyance. "Give it back."

"Now, why would I do that?"

"So I can kill you."

They laughed heartily at this. "You're a feisty one!"

"I just thought I should prove you all wrong."

"By killing me?"

"Well, I'm certainly not feeling quite so lucky at the moment. If I can kill you, then your friends here will know for sure just how skilled I am."