1. Gragash

1

GRAGASH

T he crowd roared, and for a moment I forgot it all. My pain, my shame, my fears. Everything faded as hundreds of people screamed for me. The bright glare of the arena lights blinded me to the audience, turning them into shadows which crowded around the cage I stepped into, the cage which would be my entire universe until the fight was done.

I breathed deep, drawing in a lungful of cheap beer and expensive blood, the stale smell of sweat, and the harsh smell of ozone. The sawdust covering the floor gave my feet purchase, a pleasant change from the mirror-finish chrome I'd fought on last.

" Gra- gash, Gra- gash, Gra- gash." My fans in the crowd chanted my name, and I turned, fist raised, to roar back at them. As always, the chant skipped a beat. Even those who traveled between stars to see me fight feared me. My lips twisted into what some might mistake for a smile.

Deep down, they knew what would happen if I got free of the cage and in amongst them, and they feared me. So they should. I didn't know their faces, their names, or even their species—but they paid my captors for this spectacle. That was enough for me to hate.

The worst were the journalists, clustering around the cage where they'd get the best angles to watch the fighters die. They made their pay from our suffering and death, and like carrion eaters, they didn't care whose death they feasted on.

I didn't snarl at them. None of them deserved the picture that would make. Except…a flash of red hair at the back of the baying pack caught my eye. Someone new, of a species I didn't recognize, watching me with eyes like green jade and an expression I couldn't place. Not the joy, the hunger, the bloodlust the other journalists shared. Something sad, or maybe angry. Whoever caused it, I felt an instinctive need to slay them and offer the pale-skinned female the offender's heart.

"Tor- agah, " another chant went up on the far side of the cage, drowning out my fans. "Tor- agah! "

My opponent had arrived. With difficulty, I turned away from the intriguing female to face the monster my captors pitted me against. At once, I saw why he had such a loud cheering section. The blue-skinned, scaled monster stood a head taller than me, his eyes burning with an inner rage to mirror my own. A ragged scar ran down his torso, and another marked his neck where someone had come close to tearing out his throat.

In his right hand, he carried a curved sword, its edge honed so sharp it looked like it could cut a god. Somewhere, he'd lost his left arm, only to replace it with a shining chrome cybernetic limb. Clumsy but powerful, it looked like it belonged on an industrial robot, not a person.

This fight might be a challenge. I closed my right fist, activating the electro-gauntlet that was my only weapon, and let go of everything but the fight. For the next few blissful minutes, I was free.