As soon as I step out of the Armory there's a snarl and the sound of claws scraping on stone. I turn and see Bear launching himself at me. His jaws are parted in a fearsome snarl and a growl rumbles from his throat. His shaggy, chocolate coat is puffed out, and his long lower canines glint from the overhead light. I sidestep his attack, and Bear whirls around and hisses at me, "Arrow! How absolutely cowardly of you! The number one Gladiator backing down from a fight. Imagine what will happen to your reputation when I tell everyone this! You'll be reduced to nothing, and the Wasteland will go back to how it was before."

"Bear, you are aware that we cannot attack other Gladiators except for when we're in the Wasteland arena? You came here after me, so how would you know what it was like before?"

"And who told us that? I've heard what it was like, so trust me."

"Every single Gladiator is told that when they arrive at the Wasteland. It's one of the rules."

"Can you name a person?"

"Er... well... no but it's one of the rules."

"Do you see what I'm saying? What about other rules? Like the stupid points thing with the Armory. No killing the Clicks. Staying in your cave unless fighting in the Wasteland or training in the Pit. Rationed food and water at specific times. Oh, don't forget about the stupid bathroom schedule. No one knows who is behind the rules."

"Sure, I do."

"You're just saying that."

"Oh, no. You caught me." My voice is laced with thick sarcasm.

"Arrow, what about the fact that some Gladiators are left to tend to their wounds unless they are life threatening and are literally about to die?" Bear throws out another fact.

"What? I thought all Gladiators were given medical treatment after every Wasteland battle."

"I wonder why you'd think that, Mr. I'm-Number-One-In-Every-Single-Wasteland-Battle?"

"Hey, I don't like all the constant examination and attention. I much prefer it when the Guard just leave me alone to train in the Pit and talk with AR. The only place where that happens is in the Pit, on the Wasteland battlefield, or my cave. Everywhere else people are fawning over me." I shudder at the thought.

"Maybe next time you go for the win think about that." Bear snarls the words at me before stalking off, his shaggy coat shifting with every step.

Karly walks out from the Armory and places a hand on my forearm. "Wow, he was worked up about something, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, he sure was. Bear's always worked up about something."

"Have you really won every single one of your battles?"

"Almost," I duck my head in discomfort, "the first few I fought I got killed. It turns out most people here have a specific fighting style. Other's are harder so it's always close."

"What about that one who's nickname is the Silver Shock?"

"Oh, yeah, him. He's a beast. I swear each he gets better each Wasteland battle."

"Good luck against him! You've got it, Arrow!"

"Thanks, Karly." I smile and pad back down the stone path to the main room of the Pit.

There's the familiar clang of a gong. I inhale sharply and break into a loping run. When I reach the main room of the Pit, there's already several Guard standing by a board. Oh, no. Seriously? They do this every single time. I sigh silently and sit down at the back of the group. A plump Guard clad in shiny silver armor drones on about the rules of the Wasteland. Only a few Gladiators actually pay attention; those who are the newest. I only listen to a few of the words as I know them by heart. "Only fight with weapons you've acquired in the Armory or already have... Don't use the Rusted Iron as a weapon... Fight..." I tune out until shortly before the end. The plump Guard explains many rules and points out a few key points on the map of the Wasteland battlefield. "Break any of these rules and all of your points will be forfeit. They will automatically go to whoever wins the Wasteland battle-."

"I think we all know that the winner is going to be Arrow! Why does he even participate when he always win? It's not fair that he never gets killed and gets all the points. We're just trying to climb up to get our own standing when he breezes through each and every battle like he's sleeping. Arrow can afford any weapon he'd like when we have to save up our points for months to get a measly upgrade from a bent sword. After the first two or three battles, the Wasteland battles lose their fun. It's no fun losing every time when the same person comes in first." A voice erupts from the Pit.

"Yeah!" A few more shouts echo around the Pit.

"SILENCE!" A Guard's voice thunders throughout the Pit. All voices fall quiet.

"Respect all your fellow Gladiators or face the consequences. Also, you will be prohibited from leaving your cave for three weeks; meaning, you won't be able to train, see anyone except the Guard who brings you food and water, or participate in the Wasteland battles for any of those three weeks. The Chambers will be your home, and rock is all you'll see. Have fun winning glory in the Wasteland battles!"

I stare blankly at the walls of the Pit. Do they really think that? It's no fun for me either; having to kill faces I see every day. I never do anything with the points so I must be standing on at least a few hundred thousand, maybe even upwards of a million. On my way back to my cave I pass Night and Shadow. They're a brother and sister duo wearing black leather suits which are covered in daggers and short swords. The edges are honed to a deadly point. I ignore them when they narrow their eyes at me. At least I know they'll come for me tonight.

A few medical personnel walk in to check up on the Gladiators. When they see the blood stains on my coat they usher me out of the Pit. I roll my eyes. The wounds aren't even that bad. "Arrow, follow us. We'll get you fixed up before tonight's Wasteland battle." They gesture to a hall which I walk down. I don't bother protesting and saying that it isn't necessary. I once fought them off but then I was sedated and they still dealt with my wounds so I know they'll do it whether I like it or not. One of the medical personnel holds open a door and I lay down on a mat. "So, Arrow, what is it this time?" The head of the doctors walks in, the plastic snap of her gloves sharp against my ears.

"I honestly don't know. I fought a Click earlier and got a few scratches but I'm fine. Why not just let me go and save your supplies for someone who actually needs it, Kayla?" I tilt my head and look at the woman.

"You're injured. It's our job to treat anyone who's injured."

"Anyone?" I think back to what Bear said earlier. If it's actually true then why are they just treating those who are at the top portion of the leaderboard, however big the portion is?

"Yes."

"Is there some other part of the sentence you're not telling me? Perhaps a 'those who a- aargh!" I hiss as one of the medical personnel puts something on the wound on my shoulder. My claws slide on the shiny white surface of the medical wing as I involuntarily rise to a low crouch, my adrenaline spiking. I sigh and sink back to the ground, laying my head on my paws when I see the frozen, fear stricken medical personnel. Their faces were pale and their eyes were the size of dinner plates. "Sorry. Reflexes." I mutter and close my eyes until the doctors are done.

As soon as Kayla says they're finished I'm out the door and heading to my cave. While it's a dusty hole in the wall, it's home. No one can die in battle, but deaths are still a fairly common thing. They occur from causes other than battle wounds. There must be a hundred or more Gladiators of all ages. Old age and disease are the most common causes of death. Aggressive viruses and bacteria destroy huge numbers of Gladiators. The Wasteland guards sometimes say that it's almost a good thing- it keeps the ranks fresh and new. New blood. I shudder.

Everyone is always training in the Pit until shortly before the Wasteland battle so I have a few hours to myself in the Chambers. As soon as I've walked through the narrow, curved passageway into my cave, I remove myself from the shadows and Arrow fades away. I take a deep breath, fighting away the exhaustion and forcing my weighted eyelids open. If only holding the form of Arrow wasn't so hard. My hands slap on the stone as I flop on to my back, staring at the ceiling. "How on earth did I end up here?" I murmur to myself. A few minutes later I lose the fight with my heavy eyelids and I drift off to sleep.

I jerk awake to the sound of claws scratching on stone. They sound oh so close. Wait, no. They are oh so close. Whoever this is, they are in my cave! I slide to a stone wall and close my eyes, desperately trying to force myself into the shadows. My hands are pulled into the blackness as the steps draw closer. Then my arms and shoulders before my head and torso fade to black. The shadows crawl down my legs and just before the clawed creature steps into the room part of my cave, Arrow sparkles into existence.

I raise my head and leap to my paws, half expecting Bear to walk in. "Sheesh, Arrow! I swear on my life I'm not going to hurt you!" A small weasel looks at me in mock disappointment.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were Bear before I actually saw you. I'm so glad it's you."

"As if I could hurt you; you're, like, eight hundred times my size."

"Come on, I'm sure you could find a way. Let's see... climb up my leg and weasel, haha, underneath my armor and proceed to claw at my stomach?" I look up at the ceiling.

"Hardy har har. That's hilarious. Why are you even giving me ideas on how to kill you? For all you know I'll use them against you in tonight's Wasteland battle." The weasel raises and eyebrow at me, mischief sparkling in their dark eyes.

"I know you won't and, let's me completely honest here, I have an advantage over you with my size."

"Anyways, after this afternoon's chat about the rules you've got yourself quite a few enemies. You think tonight's the night, Arrow?"

"Nah, I hope not at least."

I turn back to the weasel. His real name is AlexRaye Johnson but I call him AR. I don't know why a weasel has a first and last name; I'm a human, well, Blender, and I've only got a first name! Streaks of white on his tail, left forepaw, and right ear stand out against his chocolate-y fur. A splash of black sits between his shoulder blades. While you're not supposed to have friends in the Wasteland as you'll have to kill them to win, AR and I somehow befriended each other. It's nice to have someone amongst the sea of enemies. I've never been forced to kill him which helps. I couldn't kill him if I tried.

"AR, why did you come? Not that I'm complaining."

"Well, I thought it'd be a nice thing to tell you that you've got roughly a quarter of the Gladiators plotting your death in the Pit right this moment. When I left, they were debating on what technique to use for killing you-."

"Ok, ok, thank you, AR, for telling me that. I really don't need to know how people are planning on killing me."

"Alright, then. Don't blame me when you're unprepared for people plucking out your claws or eyes and stuffing them down your throat." AR cracks a smile. I do as well.

"Was that Bear?"

"The one and only."

"He's been trying to do that for years. Never succeeded."

"Didn't he get half of a claw removed before you got bored of watching him and then squashed him?"

"Oh, yeah. That was slightly amusing; he had no clue I was letting him gnaw and tear at the claw."

I watch that particular Wasteland battle in my head with a smile on my face. Bear crouches at a forepaw, chewing at the base of a claw. I admire his determination and always have but sometimes he's a bit headstrong and impulsive. I let the shaggy canine chew on me for a few minutes before sighing and sinking a claw into his spine. Bear was gone before he'd realised what'd happened.

"I'd best be going now, Arrow. I've got to practice a few moves and see if I can track down something to eat."

"You're always eating something, AR. I'm surprised that you're still so skinny."

"I have my ways, Arrow." AR smiles a lopsided smile at me.

"Have you ever been caught? You're only supposed to eat the portions the Guard provides you yet you eat so much more."

"It's one of the advantages of being small and skinny like me; you can sneak around and snag food without anyone noticing. You wouldn't know being so big." AR isn't wrong.

"Well, good luck with the food. I think I'll try to get a few hours of sleep before the Wasteland battle; it's going to be a long night."

"See ya, Arrow! Good luck."

"Same to you, AR." I murmur and lay my head on my paws, feigning an attempt to sleep. AR gracefully bounds out of my cave and towards the Pit. I don't know where he'll go to steal a bit of food. The rationed portions we get are enough to give us the energy to fight and train but not enough to never have been hungry and been hearing your stomach growling in annoyance.

When AR is gone, I quickly escape from the shadows and Arrow's form flickers once, twice, before disappearing. I exhale slowly before laying down on my back. There's a ratty, old blanket that's worn to threads in most places lying in the corner but I've never moved it. The blanket was here before I arrived a few years ago. If I ever get cold, I can change to Arrow who has a thick coat of fur but that's only happened a few times; the Chambers are kept warm. Sleep overtakes me within a few minutes and I surrender myself to Dreamland though no images fill my head in my slumber which is a first.

A while later, perhaps two or three hours later, there are shouts and the sound of a gong fills the air. "Everyone report to the Pit! The Wasteland battle is starting in half an hour!"

"Clear the Chambers! Any stragglers will get last pick on the starting spots!" I groan and sit up, wiping an eye. I roll my eyes and sit with my legs crossed as I will myself to turn to shadows. The darkness overtakes me quickly and suddenly I'm Arrow, his form flickering to life.

I pad to the Pit where there's a heated debate over who should get the spot closest to the Rusted Iron; the height advantage was huge. Someone sees me and then a short woman dressed in thick bronze armor walks up to me. "Arrow." She says flatly.

"Uh, hello. What's your name, I don't believe we've met before."

"Call me... Rhys."

"Hello, Rhys."

"Hello, Arrow. Ready for your first defeat in a very long while? You're long overdue for a visit to the Infirmary."

"I haven't seen it in a while, perhaps I'll take a stroll over there tomorrow... Thanks for giving me the idea." I knew precisely what Rhys was talking about but it was true; I was going to visit the Infirmary tomorrow and see if it had changed.

"Or you could go sooner, you know, during the Wasteland battle."

"I could... but I like the points."

"You have so many and you never spend them. I think it's time to let someone else win so everyone can actually get points." Rhys glowers at me, murder in her eyes. Oh, great. Now I swear half the Gladiators are coming for me. Maybe tonight really is the night. No. I can't think that way. I will win.

Rhys gives me one last murderous look before stalking off to a group of bronze armored humans. They're a loose band of humans who team up to fight together but once the Wasteland battle has gone on for a short while, it's a free for all and they end up killing each other. Yeah, I know, messed up, right? Before I can try to track down AR, a Guard walks up to me. "Joshua is waiting for you. We've reserved you your usual spot in the Wasteland, right next to Thunder Creek and Stormy Stream." If only they were actually a creek and stream. At most there's the tiniest trickle of water but usually they're dried out mudflats. I nod and follow the Guard. 

"Submissive dog. Always rolling onto their back and doing what the Guard asks without a second thought. How sad." A green, winged being sneers in disgust, curling their lip. I ignore them and follow the Guard to Joshua Spark. Bear's words play through my head; why are the rules here and why do we follow them even through we've never met whoever is in charge of this stupid place?

Joshua Spark is a man who's a little on the short side and has mousey brown hair. He's dressed in a slightly more formal version of the Guard's amor attire and a short beard covers his jaw. He's not the boss of the Wasteland so I'm not sure what he does here. Perhaps he's sort of like a messenger? "Ah, Arrow. Hello. Please, have a seat." He turns around when the Guard announces our arrival.

"Sorry, I need to go. The Wasteland battle is starting in roughly seven minutes."

"So eager, I admire that about you, Arrow." Joshua thinks out loud, not looking at me.

"Yeah, if there's nothing here for me then I'll be leaving." I turn towards the door.

"Arrow, turn around right now."

"Why should I? I don't even know why I'm still here if all I do is murder people every few days. Isn't that pretty messed up? Brutally murdering everyone I see every day?"

"Oh, Arrow," Joshua sighs, "If only you'd see it in the right light. This is a gift you've been given. This opportunity to fight in front of millions of people."

"Oh, please. Enlighten me on this gift I've been given. I believe I'm failing to see how murdering people and animals is a gift or opportunity." Unfortunately Joshua either doesn't here my sarcasm or ignores it.

"Dearest, Arrow. What you don't understand is that in the world, how it is now, you are living splendidly. It's a gift to be able to fight. Only the best of you are given this opportunity to win glory and reign on the leaderboard."

"Such an opportunity." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"It is and you should be grateful."

"Look, I appreciate this supposed opportunity and gift but I'd really best be going to go 'win my glory' in the Wasteland." I turn around and shove my way through the door, ignoring Joshua's cries for me to get back.

A Guard rang the gong three times. Three minutes until the Wasteland battle begins. I break into a loping run. Walls blur past me as I make several turns, speeding towards the location of my usual starting gate. Two minutes. I speed up even more, my heart pounding. I can't miss this Wasteland battle. My paws almost skid out from beneath me as I make a sharp turn. One minute. Not this Wasteland battle; I'll never hear the end of it. Thirty seconds. I dig my claws into the stone and force myself a little faster. Twenty seconds. I silently curse the gong. The sound will never make its way out of my head. Fifteen seconds. I break from my sprint into a trot and try to slow my panting breaths. 

A Guard gives me a quizzical look when I appear just a few seconds before the Wasteland battle starts. I ignore him and step into the metal crate. Just as I'm standing on the wire bottom, the door shuts and gears begin to groan and turn. Slowly, the crate moves up, gears creaking against each other in complaint. For just a moment there's nothing but darkness until the sun's rays shine brightly into the dark metal. I blink rapidly until my eyes have adjusted.

A gong rings, the sound echoing across the vast, barren Wasteland. The door to my crate opens and the Wasteland battle's begun.

Thank you so much for reading this! Please consider voting and/or commenting if you enjoyed this story! What's going to happen in the Wasteland battle? 

-Werewolf14-