“Go after her first. She’s got no armor on; she’ll be easy pickings – then we can settle this amongst ourselves.”
The raider, Spike, shot another look across the arena. Ryan the Unbloodied followed his gaze and licked his lips suddenly aware of how dry his throat had become. He had heard stories about this one, the hell horse from the red canyon, how she had killed a hundred men and used their blood to -

“Don’t look at her you idiot!” Spike hissed slapping him back to his senses. “You want to tip her off?”

Seeming to ignore his own advice, Spike shot a quick grin over his shoulder that didn’t do anything to assure him of the situation. Worse, the hell horse seemed to have taken notice too and flipped a rude gesture their way.

“Great, well – that’s that.” Spike clapped his hands, where they shaking slightly? “Look, New blood, Mace, and Hammer Hands, you three get in her face, keep her busy, and I’ll come around behind and finish her off. Just like we planned.”

This was a terrible plan, but he knew better than to voice his concerns. He had seen what had happened to the man who thought to question Spike before him, and, it had led to there being a new opening in the team.

“She doesn’t look so tough.” Hammer hands banged his metallic gloves together, though Ryan was pretty sure that he was the man was trying to talk himself up for the fight. It seemed like something hammer hands would do. “She’s all squishy looking.”

“Right, squishy.” Spike nodded, checking his gauntlets. “Easy meat. Remember that, and we all get a share.”

Those of us that survive. That was the rule, and every contestant knew it, you go into the pit, you fight, you win, you get paid, you die, well, your problems were over. Three fights, one circuit and he was out, a free man. Simple in, out, and on the way. Easy. Yeah, so easy.

Simple really, he was just over thinking things. Like he aways did. That was all.

Licking his lips again he wiped the palms of his hands on his britches and glanced around quickly to make sure no one saw. It wouldn’t do for them to think he was getting skittish.

Hammer hands looked twitchy, probably the jet he had shot up before the fight, to give him an edge. Mace gave him a smile that appeared just as quickly as it disappeared and never quite seemed to reach his eyes. And Spike, he was grinning, but not like any sane person, or close to sane person Ryan had ever seen.

“Adam protect me.” He murmured and pulled his helmet over his head.

…

“They’re going to try and kill you this time.” The man whispered in her ear, or Lars was pretty sure it was a man, though he could be a ghoul for as badly as he smelled. Wrapped in rags and hunched over like a crown, Snitch had a unhealthy twitchiness about him that made her skin crawl and she found herself instinctively pulling away from him a few inches. Why he insisted on whispering into her ear when she could hear him perfectly was still something of a mystery. Still, it was all part of the act that the informant seemed to commit too.

“If that is all you have for me, I’m going to rearrange what is left of that twisted spine of yours into a new and fantastic shape that will make a super mutant swoon.” Lars growled, flexing her fingers to make sure the bandages there were secure.

“Oh, ho ho!” The man explosively laughed as though she had just told him the most amusing jest, he had ever heard this turn of the century. “Oh, the most horrible of hell horses has such a wicked sense of humor.”

“And a short temper too.” Lars snapped, her patience running thin as she wrinkled her nose, gods did the man spend his nights rolling in death claw droppings? “Tell me something useful and be quick about it.”

“Of course, of course – there, you see – the big one: He is heir Hammer Hands, lost both hands after they were ugh, lost, yes – and-“

“And he’s a jet addict.” Lars’ eyes narrowed. “Everyone knows that. Tell me something useful roach.”

“I – oh, the, the Slab’s most honorable Kizar, he,” Snitch leaned in again his cracked and filthy lips almost brushing against her ear. “He intends to kill you.”

Lars snorted.

“No, no, no.” Snitch reached out and grasped her arm and let go as though she were made of fire. “Ah – sorry please don’t hurt me! I – he- he has something planned. Snitch overheard him he – he as a special surprise in the waiting he said!”

Lars eyes narrowed that didn’t bode well. Five on one was already long odds. That and she was sure the referee had already been bribed, as was tradition. Eyes flicking back across the arena she could see the glint of polished metal that one of the gladiators tried to keep concealed. Likely a chain blade of some kind, maybe even a ripper.

“That rotten braman fucking – “She broke off, no, that wasn’t right, it didn’t fell right. Kizar hadn’t risen to power by being stupid, or blunt. This was the distraction. Grabbing, Snitch by the scruff of his robes, she pulled him close. “What is he planning?”

“I – I don’t know!” The informant protested, cringing away for her. “I – my, my memory –“

Fuck, she didn’t have time for this, jamming her hand into her bag she slapped a pouch of caps into his chest.

“There – three hundred caps. Talk. Or I’ll make you eat them.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Snitch protested frantically waving his hands as Lars reached back for the bag of caps. “Wait! Wait! Wait! I – he, he may have said something about a hatching! Yes, yes, I remember now – he said that they had just finished hatching!”

Lars hesitated, then made up her mind and let the informant drop.

“Thank you, for your service.” She grumbled, before turning her attention back to the arena. She let him go, scurrying off like some gigantic spider before thinking better of it. “And Snitch.”

Hesitantly, the man slowly twisted to look over his hunched shoulders. “Ye-yes? Most terrible of terrors?”

Lars thew a second bag of caps at him.

“Get yourself a bath.”

Turning her back on the informant and ignoring the obsequious noises he was making, she tried not to think about what brought on that sudden act of generosity. A month’s winnings were probably more than the slimy little worm made in a year and no doubt he was already running off to whisper some more secrets in one of her multitude of enemy’s ears. Still, he had always seemed to come through for her in the past, and it never hurt to keep the little rat in her better graces.

Pushing that thought aside, she scanned the arena, three gates, nothing to be seen there. The benches were full though, and so was the private booth section. More than a little bit too, as she did a quick count it became clear that it was full to bursting. That meant that a lot of people were willing to pay extra to see this fight, that didn’t bode well.

Eyes flicking up to the watch towers she frowned, two men per turret, more than double the usual number. Lars wasn’t concerned about them shooting her, that would be bad sport, and no place like this could stay open with a reputation for gunning down its gladiators.

Though it was hard to see with the sun she could make out the distinct black combat armor of one of the towers newest occupants. Black with a splash of white, a talon.

Great, that meant that whatever nasty surprise Kizar had cooked up in the bowls of the Slab meant he was willing to pay extra to protect his spectators. Then slowly it dawned on her, this wasn’t four on one bout…