The Colosseum

Vicarious

Ezra

By the time the end of the lunchtime matches were over, Annette was teaching her classes to those who were interested in taking them. I'm sure anyone who witnessed the beating Kova took by her decided to go in order to learn the same techniques.

Dinnertime fights were to be purely beast VS. beast, so there was no need for me to be here to determine anyone's fate. Tickets for predator fights are always the cheapest, so they sell out more, and I give up my spot in the stadium so others can fill it. I have no interest in watching claws dig into animals with claws – that isn't what this Colosseum is for in my opinion, but running these kinds of fights generates a lot of profit with the legalized gambling. So I continue it.

I head to the palace alone, with Leon taking care of Kova. Room 17 is the ER room in the palace, labelled #17 in its blueprints. As far as those watching the Colosseum are concerned, I'm bringing Kova to a place in the Colosseum tunnels called room 17 – not a luxury medical room in the palace. That could cause controversy.

And speaking of controversy, one of my reconnaissance teams has sent in recent pictures of soldiers dressed in my uniforms exchanging documents and weaponry with soldiers dressed in the Ice Queen's uniforms. The date signifies that this is still happening after having shot Mr. Enoch, which means there's still another rat to trap within my circle.

I discovered this scandal early this morning, so my mind was already unraveled by the time Kova's match was due. With Annette's unintentional reveal of her having a child and the weapon scandal, my guard wasn't as up as it should've been. The next thing I know, Kova is jumping off a lion and using her barbed whip to wrangle herself up the wall. My heart was racing. Nobody had ever gotten out, and I do believe I underestimated that twig's ability to escape. Even the strongest fighters couldn't figure a way to get out, no matter how much they tried. I suppose the power of will and ingenuity are all one needs to free themselves from any situation. And with that, I know I'm dealing with someone competent, rather than a Colosseum player who will do anything to scramble to the top. Therefore, I really need to be on my toes.

She almost managed to run away, too. The events caused me to impatiently stand and pace about, trying to get rid of my nervous energy. Fright of losing a valuable pawn and excitement at a change of tempo ate me alive. On one hand, I didn't want her to leave for obvious reasons – the crowd loved and she was my new set of eyes and ears inside the Colosseum tunnels. Though the strangest thing manifested in the back of my mind: a voice cheering her on, hoping for her breakout. I didn't know why any ounce of me would want her to get lost in the kingdom, slipping between my fingertips like the sand of the arena.

At least, until I watched as she was dragged back to me. When she disappeared down the exit, her dark blue eyes were wild with terror and the unknown, but the set in her jaw displayed determinacy to flee. For a flitting moment, we locked eyes. In a fraction of that moment, she reminded me a whole lot of someone I know.

When Kova emerged from that corridor, pushed by Annette who was coming to speak with me, her transformation was astonishing. In just the short time I lost sight of her, boot prints were stamped all over her body, blood was spilling from her head, her hands were flayed from the barbs of the whip, and her legs skinned from being pushed around on the ground. If that wasn't enough, Annette shoved the young fighter into a leg, sending Kova skittering across the ground, her arm breaking the fall and taking on an extensive scrape instead. A small voice ghastly asked within myself, What did she do wrong to deserve something like that?

Then, I answered it the way I should've reasoned in the first place. Because she broke the rules.

I attempted to keep my cool resolve, and it was going well, until Annette decided to take new measures in bringing Kova to my feet. Dragging the girl by her arm, scenes began to overlap in my head. Rather than seeing Annette drag Kova by the arm, I started to mistake my mother dragging me through the garden by my ankles. Scorching rage shot through my chest like a bullet. How can a mother do this to her child? Doesn't she feel remorse? She should feel like the scum of the earth. Does she really deserve to even breathe? I didn't know if I was furious with Annette's treatment of my fighters, or furious at my mother all over again. Did it really matter? This was just the same scenario all over again. My disappointment and disparagement with Annette is no different than it is with my own mother.