Chapter Text
Who is she?
A blond boy ogles at the jailed woman’s head, hands gripping the fences separating them tightly. Coarse wood digs into his fingers but he does not care. She is there, staring off into the cracked andesite ceiling, flakes cracking in the corners. Finally, her dark brunette hair moves and she notices his crouched form. Agonizingly slowly, the woman approaches with a quiet grace in her movements. She does not cast a shadow.
“Hello there, pretty lady! I can’t hurt you- we’re separated!” He murmurs amicably. He knows to always address women with respect. She continues blinking at him, wide dark eyes confused. Perhaps she’s assessing him? Well, there’s not much to look at, other than perhaps his gauntlets. Sure, they might be ratty and used, but they don’t warrant this much precaution!
Incoming resonating footsteps alert them of his kidnapper’s approach. He has to hide. The woman continues looking at him with intensity, urging him to get away- to go back to his cell. Jackie was never good at following instructions. She looks at him defeatedly. His hair raises when he hears noises from underneath the entrance. Too late to hide now anyways.
“Gladiators!”
The Emperor’s sharp and booming voice makes him jerk. The blond doesn’t turn towards the older man’s direction however, instead keeping his gaze locked onto the jailed woman. “Why is this gladiator outside?” Porkius the seventh sneers right behind him.
The boy does not answer. The man huffs at his impoliteness, hands cracking menacingly behind him. The Emperor’s companion, however, feigns politeness while asking “hello?” repeatedly. Jackie does not react, bright blue eyes steady in front of him. His kidnapper growls one last time before swinging at him in the back of his head. He winces, caressing his blond hair with a silent whimper. He finally glances away from the immobile woman. Instead, he bristles at the men. “Hello? Sorry, I was lost in her gaze.”
The two figures opposing him share a look, wordlessly asking ‘is this guy for real’? Jackie rolls his eyes. That isn’t important right now. As he turns around, back to the lady- she had disappeared. There was nobody in the cell.
He shouts, high pitched and surprised. “Wha-?! Where did she go!”
They swivel, noticing the same. The cage was empty. The shorter guy screams “Witchcraft!” while the larger immediately pulls them both away from the bars. His eyes are still stuck on the empty floor where the woman once was- the witch? Why was there even a witch in the game? There was never one in the previous recordings from the past years- why is there one now? How is his luck so bad?!
He realizes Porkius is still holding him with rigid fingers. His grasp is large compared to Jackie’s tiny thin forearm. He freezes in the man’s hold, tensing up completely. The hallway echoes with their yells for a few more seconds before the silence descends on them once more. Jackie doesn’t dare breathe while he senses his leader’s accelerated heartbeat slow down bit by bit... This situation is too surreal.
Finally, the Emperor pushes him away, the adrenaline having dripped out of the scene. He almost lets out a sigh of relief, but realizes that it might be interpreted as an insult and stops quickly. The moment is awkward between the trio. The polite dude is rubbing his arm, presumably in pain and he feels inclined to do the same. The tall man breaks the new tension with a purposeful clearing of the throat.
“...Alright, gladiator, tell us your name.”
His throat squeezes. There’s a new burning in his lungs. He doesn’t feel able to breathe, let alone respond. They watch him trembling while standing too stiffly. He isn’t sure where this fear is coming from, especially since he had been speaking normally (if rudely) just a few seconds prior. He gasps out, “my name is Jackie! And- I was pulled in here against my will off the streets.”
The boy remembers with a startling crystal-clear quality the men who dragged him away. The stench in those carriers, suspiciously similar to charred meat, left his nose itchy during the whole ride. He wishes he could have passed out back then.
The Emperor hums, unsurprised by his answer. His still unknown companion mused in a low sympathetic tone. “You’ll go first, then.” Jackie's heart constricts. He’s going to die.
They continue marching forward down the hall while he follows. He glances over at his own jail from which he escaped earlier. All he had needed to do was pick-pocket one of the guards for a key, and then he was set! Too bad he got distracted while tiptoeing away, thus landing him in this situation. His mind is still not over the witch. What was she doing there in the cell? What did she want?
Why did he feel hopeless when she disappeared, leaving him with the two men?
They pass by a cage full of gigantic pink creatures, similar to boars but undead. Will he have to battle these? Their mere steps caused the ground to tremble in fear. Or, they were just fat.
Finally, they reach the next human. Inside the cell stood a hunched-over figure, hands pulling at orange hair quite painfully. The weird posture freaks him out so he only manages a peek at his opponent. He tries to memorize every aspect of the man, from the red goggles to the gloves. This will be the cause of his death. He will die by this man’s hands. He is accepting it. In return, the man stops panicking, instead choosing to examine him with pity glimmering in his brown eyes. Porkius opens the cell door. “Gladiator.”
Just like his switch in demeanor, his voice wobbles to an extreme degree. Almost comical. “Hello!” He hobbles out with some difficulty, fingers splayed on the wall as he walks.
“You have been selected for the first round of combat. What is your name before we proceed?” The tall man’s voice turns almost giddy at the word ‘combat’. Jackie isn't sure that is a good sign for him. His competitor responds, a dopey grin on his face. “I am Laggius Maximus and-”
“I am a gladiator!” Laggius says, eyes burning into his own. At first glance, it would seem proudful of him, as though he is too full of himself to realize he’s practically bed-ridden. The boy understood the hidden words, though. ‘ I am unwillingly forced to battle in front of an audience while sick. I acknowledge I will probably die. I accept my death.’
This makes Jackier feel ill. Does this man not care about his life? His family? Why would he be so willing to throw it all away without a fight? How come he be so pathetic?
Suddenly the blond is staring at himself. There are no mirrors in this prison. There is only the man standing in front of him defeatedly. Wasn't he the one who had already accepted to die before the match even started? Why is he now despising a man who will do exactly That? Why is he now disgusted at the idea of giving up?
It’s the eyes , a part of him whispers.
The man's light brown orbs are glassy, unseeing of reality. It seems like that part of himself had already died, waiting for the rest of the body to join them. ‘Blind birds sing better’ but right now it only looks painful. The man has already given up hope and is just waiting for his approaching demise.
As they were being led away to their own entrances to the arena, he made a resolution. He will not die like Laggius.
He will live,
and he will thrive.
--
As he looks up at the underwater elevator, trepidation mixed with determination coursing through his veins, he hears someone approaching.
It's the polite guy. The boy notices the camera cover is still on, thus rendering the whole machine useless, and is about to point it out when the other leans down next to him, hand above his mouth as though sharing a secret. He whispers, "Jackie, I've met a lot of people in my life, but I have never rooted for somebody as hard as I'm rooting for you."
His eyes blow open with shock, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest at the compliment. "Really?" he breathes out with a small smile. He's about to inform the man about his video machine, but stops when he sees a mischievous grin warps into the stranger's face.
"It's exclusively because I don't like the other guy."
Yep. He's definitely not telling him about the camera.