The Colosseum

Endeavors in the Dark

Ten

I watched from outside as Kova tentatively entered her room. Waited for a minute to see if anything interesting would happen. When nothing did, I went back to where I came from. Descending one of the staircases in the open hall, I brace myself for the experience I put myself through time and time again. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl and cotton fill my mouth, but I force myself to keep moving towards that room; the room which makes me remember.

Unlike Kova, I have the luxury of roots. Roots, meaning where I came from, who I am, what I was brought up to become. I hail from royalty; I'm someone who does what I need to do in order to fulfill my destiny, which is to become the king. Because I have a clear path of where I need to be and how I need to get there, my decisions are clear and made with reason.

I need to keep Kova in my back pocket, even if it means lying to her. The king never employed anyone to spy on me before – that was a lie. But I need to see how much that bastard has changed since sitting in my throne. Where is his head at? What is his psyche? If Kova manages to get close enough to him, then I can use her as my own spy, too. That way, I can figure out how to get in his head by the time I escape the Colosseum. The quicker I can do that, the quicker I can get rid of Kova. Though she isn't physically capable of defeating me, her will is made of titanium, and that's all anyone needs to survive.

But to do that, I need to remember clearly. I need to remember what I fight for.

At the floor of the indoor training facility, I take a deep breath. Old blood stains still blotch the mats in some spots, but overall, it has been cleaned up nicely since the last series. Sparring rings are numerous, with roped-off weapons training areas and exercise machines even more numerous. Free weights shelves are scattered throughout the spot, with as many water fountains to match. The colored floor of the room is black, presumably to hide any dirt that might ingrain itself in the tile crevices. Still, blood is pretty visible no matter what surface it's on. The walls are a matt-chrome, making the place look bigger to newbies, but resembling a cage to people like me who are kept pent up time and time again. Though there is an uncountable amount of practice devices in this place, there is only one room that is of any use to me anymore.

Located in a tucked-away corner, there's a glass-walled room that could me mistaken as a storage closet. Inside, there's a single chair – like one you might see at the dentist's. Except this chair has metal restraints at the forehead, waist, wrists, and ankles. Next to the chair is a miniature refrigerator, where syringes filled with a mystery solution that mimics serotonin, which makes the brain hallucinate. Except rather than see meaningless images, it plays back vivid memories of the past.

Already waiting for me at the door is Annette, a grim expression making her look double her age. As always, her light brown hair, peppered with stress-induced age, is tied back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes, equally as pale, acknowledge me with doom. "Thanks for waiting," I greet. "Let's go ahead and get this started."

Gloomily, she eyes my hands. They're shaking. Clenching my fists, I grit my teeth and command, Stop that. They don't listen to me, so I tuck them behind my back. "They get worse every time you go in there," she sighs. "I don't think I should let you do this anymore, Ten."

"You sound concerned. What happened to the fiery Annette Stryker who bet I couldn't handle my worst memories, huh?" I tease, trying to ease the mood. Let me in, Annette.

Sighing, she dismally shakes her head. "Sometimes, when I look at you, I feel mistaken."

"Mistaken?" I echo, putting aside my own concerns to listen to a rare moment of vulnerability from Annette. She isn't like Val, who nurtures me like a mother. Annette isn't like anyone I've ever met – she pushes me when we train, like she wants me to do well. She gives me tough love. I was the first trainee she met between series, when she started to survey our training room since she took a job as a teacher here, so I guess I'm closer to her than the other trainees. But, why would she feel mistaken about anything when she's doing her job?