CHAPTER 4: THE GAMES



Acid rain fell on the humungous stadium that housed the Gladiator Games.  There was no stopping the festivities though.  This was the perfect weather for the bloody fights that took place.  As the lethal storm pelted the skins of the competitors, many roared in pain.  Some dropped dead from the complete incineration of their skin.  The stronger ones learned to bear it.  They welcomed it.  This meant most fights would be shorter and less strenuous.

“Wake up Sinbad.”

Sinbad awoke with the guard point blank in his face.  The year was 2175.  It had been twelve years since he came to Galaticum, and in those twelve years, he trained to be the best.  His goal was to win the Gladiator Games three times so he could leave the hell hole and take back his kingdom and avenge his mother and father.  He had already won it twice, to Demetrik’s dismay.  This was the last series he had to do.  If he just won several more fights, he would be set free, well at least he hoped.

“It’s time for your match,” The guard said.

Sinbad got up and walked to the arena, ready to face his opponent.  He had grown up quite well in his twelve years on Galaticum.  From years of training, he gained the perfect physique-broad shoulders and toned muscles.  His senses had become keen and he had become accustomed to pain.  He allowed his hair to grow untamed to complete his barbaric look.  That’s what the audiences knew him by, the barbaric prince.

The crowds cheered as he walked into the arena.  Ever since the Shadowclaw dynasty kings closed Anthria’s doors to other worlds, there were few anthros throughout the galaxy.  Sinbad was the crowd’s favorite because he was an anthro.  Most have never seen an anthro, let alone a half breed, because Sinbad was half-human.  Unlike pure vulfans, Sinbad was shorter.  Most male vulfans were over six feet; he was only 5 feet 10 inches.  His snout and fangs were shorter as well.  He was considered exotic to the crowds. They adored him and would pay anything to see him fight. He was Demetrik’s star attraction.  

Sinbad showed no emotion as he walked toward his opponent.  This competitor was just another roadblock in his path to freedom that he had to destroy.
His mind was calm.  All he focused on was his opponent.  Neither the acid rain, or the cheering fans caused him to loose focus.  Some would think acid would cause him to flinch, but not many knew Sinbad.  This was no problem to him. This was his element.  Here was where the years of training payed off.  Years of learning to bear any pain.  Nothing could advert his attention from his prey.

One of the guards handed him his weapon for the match.  His favorite choice was his titanium staff.  He didn’t really need it, but the crowds liked it when competitors mixed it up a bit.  

He faced his opponent, and spread his feet apart in a ready stance.  He leveled his staff to his opponent and waited for the signal to attack.

Sinbad studied his opponent quickly.  He was a Vesqueth- a bug like creature- and small, but Sinbad knew not to be fooled by appearances.  He glanced at the opponent’s metal claws and formulated a plan to win.  He knew his opponent would probably use quick strikes to find an opening.  All he had to do was dodge them until his opponent got tired.  But that was too easy.  He was going to have fun with this one.

The signal went off and the Vesqueth rushed him.  Sinbad stood steady though.  He waited for the right moment to strike.  The Vesqueth lunged for Sinbad’s shoulder with his claws.  Sinbad pivoted to his right to avoid the incoming attack.  Then he swirled around and smashed the staff into the Vesqueth’s back.

The Vesqueth fell to the ground and gasped for air.  He had a collapsed lung now, but figured one lung would be enough to defeat Sinbad.  He stood up and wiped the dirt from his face.  Without hesitation, the Vesqueth charged Sinbad again.

Sinbad decided it was time to have some fun.  Instead of blocking of avoiding the attacks, he tried something different.  

In a fury, the Vesqueth clawed at Sinbad, making lacerations all over his body.  The crowed watched to see what Sinbad would do, but he did nothing.  He lowered his head and endured the attacks.  The crowd watched in amazement.  All were on the edge of their seats.  Though this wasn't the first time Sinbad pulled a stunt like this.  He had done it many times before, but each time, his audience was astounded.  They wondered if their barbaric prince would survive this time.

Continuously the Vesqueth attacked Sinbad.  It seemed as if the he would never let up. In time, just as Sinbad predicted, the Vesqueth finally got tired and stopped.  He stepped back to see where his work had got him.

To the Vesqueth’s surprise, Sinbad was still able to stand, though bleeding profusely.  Blood trickled down from almost every part of Sinbad’s body.  Sinbad tilted his head from side to side and stretched out his limbs. Like his mother and grandfather, he was gifted.  The metal alloy in his skin allowed him to endure major wounds.  He could stand almost anything.

The crowd cheered when they saw that Sinbad was still standing.  Many began chanting his name.

Sinbad stood up straight and stared into the Vesqueth’s eyes.  It was as he was peering into his soul.  He saw the fear in him and chuckled a little while he thought about it.  It was trait that both Askel and Sinbad shared; their love for the fight.

The Vesqueth backed up quickly.  He wondered what kind of creature Sinbad was.  He eyed Sinbad confusingly.  In must cases, his attacks would have injured his opponent.  But with Sinbad, it seemed as though no attacks phased him.  The Vesqueth was afraid and showed it.

With a low growl Sinbad said, “My turn.”

In but a second, Sinbad charged at the Vesqueth.  With out hesitating, he landed a roundhouse kick to his head.  The Vesqueth slid to the side, but Sinbad wasn’t done.  He dragged the Vesqueth up and threw him against the arena wall several feet away.  With great speed, he rammed the Vesqueth’s body against the wall.  The force of the blow crushed the wall and the body of his opponent.

The crowd was silent.  Then as the dust cleared, they cheered in a thunderous roar.  In unison they chanted, “Sinbad, Sinbad, Sinbad.”

Sinbad looked at the body of his opponent.  This was the fifth one he killed that week.  Demetrik was going to have a field day.  He knew Demetrik hated it when he killed too many in one week.  Demetrik's harsh words rang throughout his head, “Don’t kill too many, at least leave some alive.  I don’t want to spend my money replacing all the competitors you kill.”

Sinbad didn’t care what Demetrik thought.  He just wanted to finish the match quickly.   There was no time to worry about whether he let his opponents live or not.  To him, there was no time for compassion towards an opponent, in any form.


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Demetrik had watched the whole fight from his observation box above the arena.   Demetrik groaned at the fact of having to replace the opponent Sinbad had just killed.  He had shown so much promise, but it was waste to put him up against the champion so soon.  What was in the past, was in the past.  Demetrik decided there was no need to worry about his predicament.  He would just send Garos out to find someone else.  Hopefully Garos would find someone who could hold their own against Sinbad.

“Sir?”  Garos said as he entered Demetrik’s office.

“Bring me Sinbad.” He turned to the stadium and glanced at the winner down below. “We need to talk.”


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Sinbad went back to the living quarters of the gladiators.  The place reeked of sweat and blood.  Many half-dead gladiators were strewn across the floor and most, would not survive the night. Sinbad chose not to waste his energy worrying about the others.  He needed to focus on winning.

Aside from the stench, the place was booming with noise.  Some gladiators were fighting over who gets the best food.  Though it all tasted like trash.  Some were arguing over who was the better fighter.  Though none of them could measure up to Sinbad. Then there were those who were just talking loud just to be heard over everyone else.  He couldn’t stand it at all.

It wasn’t just the smell and noise that bothered him though.  It was the place in general.  Demetrik could at least give him better chambers.  He was the champion for crying out loud.  If Demetrik was going be merit, Sinbad would definitely deserve something better.

“Hey Sol, you think you can patch me up?” Sinbad walked over to the old man and sat next to him.

Sol was a human believe it or not. He was the only one on Galaticum.  Sol had been there for many years.  Since he was too weak to be a gladiator, he was ordered to be the physician.

“Well I have no choice but to say yes now do I?” Sol enjoyed Sinbad's comapny, but hated having to dress his wounds.  He wished Sinbad wouldn't have to show off to everyone.

“True. You don’t want Demetrik getting mad at you.  I’m his prize fighter you know.”

“Don’t we all, “ Sol joked.  He stood up and walked over to the medical tent. “Come on Sinbad, I don’t have all day.” Actually, he had nothing better to do.

They walked inside and Sinbad sat on the examination table.  Sol quickly scanned over Sinbad’s body.  He always was amazed at how much Sinbad’s body could take.

“I see you had fun this time,” Sol mentioned.

“Yeah,” Sinbad answered.

“Well like always, they are only flesh wounds.  Nothing is deep.”

“So…”

“So all I need to do is clean up the wounds.” He went over to his bag then added, “It would be a shame if you died of an infection.” He chuckled and so did Sinbad.

“Sinbad.” Garos walked in the tent and faced the both of them.

“Let me guess, Demetrik wants to see me?” Sinbad asked.

“Yes,” Garos answered.

Sinbad got up and put his shirt back on. “I’ll be back.” He walked over to the entrance and whispered to Sol, “And mostly likely with more wounds so be prepared.”


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Garos led Sinbad to Demetrik’s office in chains.  This was protocol after the several attempts made at Demetrik’s life.  In addition to chains, Sinbad wore a shock collar.  It was the only thing that could hurt him severely.  The metal alloy in his skin conducted electricity and caused severe pain to his body.  1,000 volts of electricity could cause Sinbad great pain.  1, 500 volts could burn him severely.  2, 000 volts could render him unconscious.  Any more could possibly kill him.

“Come in Sinbad.”  Demetrik motioned for Sinbad to sit in the chair. “So, you decided to kill another today?”

Sinbad chose not to sit down and looked defiantly at Demetrik.  There was a great urge in his body to kill him.

“Is that a rhetorical question, because I think you know the answer?” mocked Sinbad.

Demetrik looked at Sinbad with his menacing stare.  He liked how Sinbad was still defiant even though he held all the cards.  

“I must admit that I enjoy your complete defiance of authority.  I admire that trait in you.  It keeps these encounters, for a lack of a better word, fun.” Demetrik smiled and kept his cool.

Sinbad just grimaced at Demetrik.  He hated every fiber of Demetrik's being, and if he ever had the chance, he would end his life.

“Now I hope you understand that the next gladiator you kill, will cause you great consequences,” Demetrik said.

“Can I go now,” Sinbad growled.

“Sure.” Demetrik motioned to Garos. “You can take him away.” Garos was about to drag Sinbad out the door when Demetrik added, “Actually, I have something else I want to add.”

Demetrik pulled out a device from his drawer. “I would like to give you a going away present.” He turned the knob on the device and pressed a button.

Suddenly 1,000 volts of electricity raced trough Sinbad’s body.  Sinbad howled in pain and fell to the floor.  He convulsed uncontrollably and violently.  Then after a couple seconds, Demetrik turned it off.  

Sinbad was left in great pain. Not just physically, but mentally.  That was a blow to his pride.  Though it had happened before, it constantly reminded him that he was still a slave to Demetrik’s whim.  Each time it happened it caused himself to doubt his resolute attitude. It sometimes made him question himself.  It made him wonder if he would ever be free.