The Arena. Chapter 7: Parking Garage

The entire week was a big chaos. Not only was there the issue of the small nation of Devonsland, Fred also had to deal with a lot of upset fans who demanded a redo of the last match.
'I will not redo a match.' Fred said deviantly. 'Not only is our Zulu warrior dead, if we gave him a rematch, every single fanboy will demand a rematch for his warrior.' The man complained. 'Well we have very angry fans to deal with.' Atthe spoke. 'Our next match just has to be perfect.' Fred spoke. He hoped that a good match would turn public opinion around.

As the week continued, Fred had little time to think about the last match and this next. Not only was there a lot to arrange for Devonsland. The tv station also become more real with every day and the daily struggles of having a big compagny with more then fifty employees.
Before Fred knew  it, saturday came again and this meant a new match.
'Do you have chosen any of the suggestions for the battlefield?' Atthe suddenly asked as he was looking through some papers. 'No' Came the short answer. 'We have had some very creative ideas but most have to be installed in the arena computer and that costs time' His wife continued.
Fred was not in the mood to talk battlefield. He really did not care about that at the moment. Not while there were more important things to deal with.
'Honey. I trust you. Just pick one that is easy to do and will make the fans happy.' Fred devons asked as he rubbed his eyes.
Atthe nodded silently and walked away. She knew he was busy but she was too. This was important to keep the fans happy and if he did not realise that... as the woman looked at the suggestions, she saw something she hoped would show Fred how important location was.

'Welcome.' Seth greeted the fans. 'Another day, another match.' The host laughed. He had been instructed not to mention the previous fight in any way and would honor that, how much the young man wanted to talk about it.
'Today we have the battle of the bloodthirsty Celt versus the deadly Egyptian.' The host announced. 'In the second last fight, who will continue in this tournament and who will die a horrible death.' Seth continued. 'It seems that so far the Celt is favored by you guys as he got 70 procent of the votes around the world while the Egyptian only got 30 procent of the votes.'  Seth looked into the camera. 'Will you guys be right or will the Egytian score the victory. There is only one way to find out and that is to get to know both warriors.' As this point, clips of both the British Celt and the Egyptian soldier started airing.
'Now both warriors have been shown, there is only one thing to do for me before we start the battle.' The host spoke as he appeared again. 'The battlefield of this fight is something neither warrior has ever encountered before. It is something that most of the people at home will know right away but might appear scary and dangerous for those not knowing what it is. It is a suggestion we took from the fans and will be the first of many. Today our two fighters will fight in...'At that moment, the camera cut away from Seth and  a large parking garage was shown.

Bakari looked at the strange things in this dark buildings. They had wheels, or what the Egyptian assumed were wheels but otherwise they looked alien. Everything looked alien ever since he he was taken and only his weapons were something familiar. For this battle, Bakari had chosen an Egyptian Axe and a khopesh. Usually he only got to carry a spear and a mace but now that the young warrior could, he was going to fight with the best weapons. The only shame was that he had no armour like the pharaoh or one of the generals would wear when going into battle. Just his ordinary clothing, his shield and his hair to protect the head.
Still Bakari would win with these extraordinary weapons and he would conquer this tournament. The Pharaoh could be proud of this soldier.

The Celt Morcant looked around. This was nothing like the fields and forests back home. He was a little homesick. Morcant only wanted to get back to his village and it seemed that the only way to reach that goal was to kill his opponent. Armed with a spear, short sword and a sling while armoured with a shield. the warrior was ready to do just that.

Morcant spotted his opponent in this smelly arena and took out his sling. The other man was nearly naked, only a loincloth and shield. This was going to be easy. He loaded up a small rock and flung it at the opponent.
Bakari saw the sling and as the rock flew away, the warrior lifted his shield. The rock bounced off the shield and hit one of the cars. The caralarm went off and both warriors froze for a second as a screeching noise filled the building.
After a few moments, both warriors focused on each other again. While Bakari held his axe and shield, Morcant had now his spear and shield in his hands. The two neared each other slowly and attacked. First was the Egyptian and as his axe hit the shield of his opponent, he was able to pull up his shield to block the spear attack.
The two traded blows but neither was able to get past the shield of the other.

It was Bakari who realised that they could not continue on this way and dropped his axe as he stepped back. Morcant saw the opening as his opponent had dropped the weapon and attacked quickly, only to find the shield still in his way.
The Egyptian created a distance again as he took out his khopesh. He had more experience with the khopesh then the axe and Bakari hoped that this weapon would give him the victory.
The Celt closed the distance again as he attacked. Again, the wooden shield met the Celtic spear and this time the counterattack came from the Egyptian sword. The khopesh encountered a shield as well, ending the attack.
The two tested each other as the weapons met the shield. Neither was prepared to give up and both were looking in a weak point to use.
Bakari attacked and as his Celtic opponent threw the shield in its way, the warrior stopped and used the curve of his weapon to get past the shield.
Morcant howled as he felt the cut on his arm and saw blood pooring from it. The khopesh then pulled the shield from him away and as it fell on the ground, the Egyptian stepped in to finish the fight.
However Morcant recovered and pushed his spear in between the two.

Morcant attacked now. He knew that he was without defence and needed to go full offence. With a twohanded thrust, he attacked his sand coloured opponent, who used his shield to block and then tried to push the spear away with his own weapon but the spear was gone by now.
The two attacked each other again and as Bakari blocked and attacked, Morcant used the distance to his advantage and danced around his opponent. A feint from Morcant forced the large Egyptian shield in front of his opponent. Stepping aside, The British fighter thrusted his spear towards the throat of the opponent. Bakari saw the attack on the very last moment and was just able to use his sword to push the spear away, but instead of the throat, the spear pierced the left shoulder of the Egyptian warrior.
Bakari groaned in pain as he dropped his shield. Now it was his time to attack and he used the khopesh to push the spear aside but Morcant had stepped back already and the weapon only hit air as he tried to slash the chest.

Bakari knew he was in a disadvantage as his opponent had a longer weapon and the better reach. One good thrust would be fatal but the Egyptian was not going to allow that. He kept attacking, pushing the spear of his opponent away as he stepped in. This forced Morcant to keep stepping backwards as he waited for a opening to deliver a good thrust.
The Celt hit a stone pillar however and as his opponent pushed the spear aside, the man grabbed it with his free hand. The khopesh flew towards Morcant, who let go of his spear and ducked away. The weapon hit stone as it flew over the head of the Celt.
Morcant pulled out his own sword and attacked. He managed to deliver a superficial cut on the side of Bakari who had dropped the spear and was too slow to step away.
The two swords found each other again and as the two fought, they only were able to inflict minor wounds on the body of their opponent.
Morcant knew that this was not going anywhere. He preferred his spear over a sword and slowly backed away towards the other weapon.
As he was close enough, Morcant lowered his legs, sword still pointed at the opponent and grabbed the spear. He then stepped away and allowd the short sword to hit the ground as he pushed his spear in front. Bakari pushed the spear away but it still cut his leg.
Now it was time for the Egyptian to be pushed backwards as Morcant kept thrusting his spear forwards. He had seen one of the strange things and it had given him an idea.
The Celt kept pushing his opponent backwards, who was only able to push the spear away as he stepped back.
Bakari felt a hard thud and noticed that his back was now against one of the strange vehicles. The spear came again with a hard thrust and te Egyptian stepped to the side. As the spear hit one of the windows, they both heard a clattering sound as if pots were breaking. With the spear through the window, the Egyptian attacked and his weapon found its way to the right shoulder of the Celt.

Morcant had fallen on the ground after this last attack, the spear next to him. His shoulder burned and he saw how his opponent stepped in.
Bakari was just about to give the final blow as his bare feet stepped in the sharp glass. This suprpised the man and he froze for a few seconds as his feet hurt.
This was enough for Morcant to grab his spear and thrusted forwards. As he thrusted his spear forwards, Bakari recovered and continued his attack.
The spear drove into the chest of the Egyptian as the khopesh slashed the throat of the Celt.
Bakari fell backwards, the spear still in his chest while Morcant tried to breath but only got blood inside his lungs.
Bakari tried to stand up. Everything hurt and he knew that he would die shortly but he heard his opponent choking and wanted to finish the job. He wanted to have fought valiantly to make the gods proud. To make the gods proud was the last thing he thought and the choking of his opponent was the last thing he heard.
Morcant was on his hands and knees, his opponent completely forgotten. he tried to breath but was unable to. He felt like he was drowning. He was drowing in his own blood. His face hit the hard ground as Morcant cought up a last bit of blood and then died.

Fred looked at the camera. 'Dead. They are both dead.' He was only able bring out. 'The fight was pretty cool.' Someone spoke, but Fred was not listening. He had hoped that this fight would turn things around. That this fight would be epic and attract the fans again. However now he had two dead warriors and a gap in the next round.
Everything had been going well and now this... Fred was not sure what to make of the whole situation. He was president of a upcoming nation. He could not dissapoint his subjects.
'How.... How are the fans reacting?' Fred asked, fearing the worst.
It was silent for a few moments before Omar spoke. 'People liked the fight a lot but the end was dissapointing.'  Another silence before the man continued. 'They say that the glass was stupid and the double kill a copout.' 'I did not know they were going to kill each other!'  Fred shouted. Atthe rushed towards her husband to comfort him. She knew how important this fight was. In fact everybody in the room knew. 'Want me to continue on?'  Omar asked unsure. Fred simply nodded. 'Some fans are complaining on why the Egyptian did not wear shoes and others are saying that his feet would be tough enough to not be bothered by glass. Others are complaining about the location itself, saying it was stupid to fight there and that this had played an important part of the outcome.' As Atthe heard this, she turned white. The woman was lucky that she was standing behind Fred and her husband did not notice her shock. She had chosen a stupid location to teach her husband how important it was to get a good arena. She would never have guessed that it would influence the battle in such a way.

Fred rubbed his face. 'How are the fans reacting to the last fight. The.....'  He said as he tried to remember the names of the warriors. 'Maharlika and the Assyran.' Atthe quickly said. 'Well it is just announced moments ago and most people are not sure what a Maharlika is.' Omar spoke. 'Most fora now are saying Assyran though.' He added.
This was the last fight of the first round and it needed to be perfect. Fred hoped that the two warriors could give that. Now he needed to figur out what to with the open spot in the next round.

The Arena. Chapter 6: Two

Toklo looked at the bizarre field where he found himself in. He did not remember how long ago it was that he was captured. The man was just hunting seals when strangers had appeared and captured him. Today, these people, each a different colour, had taken Toklo to a room with several weapons. Here he understood that he had to kill another man in a fight if he wanted to get home.
The problem with that was, he had never killed someone before. Toklo had hunted many animals and was known as a very good hunter but the Inuit had never fought another human being before.
Not knowing what weapons would be best to kill a man, Toklo choose those weapons he had used most when out hunting. His bow was always useful, with its sinew string. The man knew that this weapon would be best to kill off the opponent and every arrow counted. Then he had a hand harpoon, which Toklo usually used to stop animals from escaping, due to the rope at the end of the harpoon and lastly his snow knife. This large utility knife was always handy to have around. Dressed in thick fur which not only protected him against the cold but also against animal attacks, Toklo felt rather comfortable going in this strange fight.

Another glance at the battlefield revealed how odd it was. It was grass, both long and short, with flowers and trees. In the middle was water with a bridge over it.
As Toklo looked past the water, he suddenly saw another man popping up. Altough the man was dressed as an animal, Toklo could still see it was a man.
The Inuit put an arrow on his bow, aimed and shot. The opponent, who had spotted the Inuit as well, ran to the side, dodging this arrow and the two other arrows that followed. The other warrior then counterattacked by throwing a small spear towards him. Toklo was surprised by the range of the spear and was just able to avoid getting hit.
Toklo nocked an arrow once again but as he wanted to shoot it, the opponent had gone,
This was rather commen with animals. Some would charge you if you attacked, while others would run and hide. That this warrior took the tactic of an animal was of no surprise,
The Inuit slowly made it over the wooden bridge, his bow and arrow still ready to shoot at any moments notice. As he walked past another tree, the man saw something moving to his side. He turned around with all his speed but some sort of axe hit his bow, which broke in two. Another two attacks of the axe hit the thick clothing of the Inuit, who managed to grab his snow knife and stab thee man in the side. As the other warrior fell back, Toklo knew he had to keep the man here. With a good tug, the hand harpoon released itself from the robe that held it near him and the Toklo stabbed at the side of this warrior.
A howl of pain was the result and as the man tried to flee, he found out that the rope held the warrior to the pole. As Toklo held the handharpoon with one hand, his other grabbed his snow knife again. As he tried to attack, the other warrior managed to knock the snow knife out of his hand with the axe and then started pounding again. With no usefull weapon in his hands, Toklo kept his arms in front of his face to ward off these attacks and thus could not see that he got pushed on the ground.
Grabbing the fallen snow knife, Toklo stood up to attack again but was faced with the point of a spear that found its way in his eye.
Everything burned as the spear pushed itself through his eye into his skull and the only thing the warrior could think was, that he had never faced something so verocious before.
The spear then got pulled out of his lifeless body.

'You have seen it here.' Seth said with a grin. ; The Aztec Jaguar has killed the Inuit warrior.' The host added with a smile. 'I must say I liked that handharpoon but it seems that it was not good enough to deliver the kill.' Seth kept going. 'What do you all at home think about our battlefield. A modern park?' He asked. Seth had been instructed to ask the viewers for ideas of battlefields and he was about to do that now. ' 'Now if you have any suggestions for battlefield you want to see, please put it on our twitter, facebook, in comments and all other ways you can reach us. You can pick a historical battlesite, a modern one or one of your own creation. If you do that last, make sure that you will have a clear describtion of the battlefield.' Seth himself wanted to see two fighters inside of a vulcano fighting. That would be interesting.
'The only thing I have left to do now, is to announce the next match.' The young host continued.  'What do you get when you put a Greek Peltast against a Zulu warrior? We will find out next week.'

Another succesfull episode with milions of viewers worldwide. 'What are the comments saying?' Fred asked his staff. 'Nothing that special this time. Everybody assumed that the Aztec Jaguar would win but some are surprised about the weapons of the Inuit.'  Someone spoke. 'The next match is far more interesting however.' Another person said. 'People are already looking forwards to the Greek light troops versus the verocious Zulu warriors.' That was something Fred liked to hear.
'Look at this.' Omar suddenly spoke. 'Someone is ranting that the Jaguar did not get his Macuahuitl, his most famour weapon.' everybody laughed at it. 'We had it there, He just did not pick it up this time.' It was the weapon master Max who had spoken. 'You aways have those people.' Fred scoffed. He knew that no matter what, someone would be complaining.
The men and womand discussed the comments to late in the night.

Halfway through the week, Fred asked all members of staff to come to a large room inside the complex. As everybody entered, they saw Fred standin on a podium, with behind him his wife Atthe, the president of the United States and Mr. Leono.
'Welcome everybody.' Fred began as he watched the crowd. This was a very special day and Fred could not be more happy.
'Today is the day we have been waiting on.' The big man continued. 'We have been working on getting our own little country now and I am happy to tell you that we succeeded.' Some of the staff members looked surprised while others cheered.
'Thanks to the president of the United States of America, Mickey Tromp, I can introduce everybody to Devonsland.' Fred Devons spoke as the president stood up and waved.
'Now that we are our own nation, it means that you need to make a choise.' Suddenly everyone became quiet. 'I want you to consider become a citizen of Devonsland.' Fred looked at everybody. This was an important moment and he could not mess it up. 'If you choose to stay here, you will be employed for life. We also will build houses,  a school, a hospital and all other things needed.' He looked around again and still silence. 'If you choose to not become a citizen of Devonsland, you will be let go at the end of this season.'  People now started to talk with each other and discussing the options. They had never expected for the island to become its own little nation and were not sure what to choose. 'Can we get our families here if we want to stay?'  Someone asked. 'Ofcourse.' Fred nodded. 'How long can we think about it?' Someone else asked. 'Take your time. I will not pressure you but you will need to have taken your decision at the end of this season.'  Came the answer. When it was clear that there were no questions, a feast got brought in.
'You will stay here I take?' Fred asked Mr. Leone as both men, Atthe and Mr. Tromp sat at a small table. 'Yes.' The other man nodded. 'Italy is a little too hot right now.' The maffiaman added. 'You are welcome to stay.'  Fred smiled to his moneyshooter.

The day after the announcement and the feast, everybody worked with a hangover. People were still discussing if it was good idea to stay or not. It was a simple choise but with big consequences and not something to take lightly.
Apart from preparing for next week's match, the international news now have heard about this new nation and Fred Devons had been answering calls from journalists the entire day.
'Why cannot they accept there is a new nation without having to ask why I wanted a new nation.' Fred spoke out in frustration after another such call. 'Relax sweety.' Atthe tried to comfort her husband. 'It is just something new and interesting. Besides you just cannot say that this will protect us from attack.' He knew his wife spoke the truth and he knew that the media interest would calm down eventually.
'How are the arena suggestions going?' Fred asked. 'We have been spammed with ideas only minutes after the last show and it has not stopped yet.' Someone said. 'Most of these suggestions is the Colloseum actually.' The same person replied again. 'It gets suggested a lot.' Fred laughed. He had expected that to happen. The show was called the Arean after all. But there was a reason he had not chosen the colloseum yet. 'I have something very special in mind for the Colloseum.' He spoke. 'But don't reply that.'  Fred added.
'How are the comments on the match going?' Fred asked. 'There seemed a little bit of confusion on some forums about what a Peltast actually is..' Derek, one of the social media people spoke. 'Here for example. At first they wondered why we put a armoured greek soldier against an unarmoured opponent and we were called racists, then someone commented that according to 300, the Greeks fought naked and lastly someone else commented that it would be an easy win for the zulu because the Peltast only threw spears.' Derek explained one of the fora he was looking at.
'That seem consistent. I see a lot of Zulu victories all around the world.' Omar agreed.
'Let us see how this plays out then.' Fred smiled.

'Welcome everybody' Seth spoke to all the viewers. 'First and foremost. Last week I asked you to give us ideas on battlefields and you did listen. We have recieved millions and millions of requests, ideas and suggestions. Keep them coming. Today will be a rather boring field but I promise you. Next week we will take the first of your suggestions.'
As always, Seth showed a clips with information of both warriors and then announced the battle to start.

Mandla looked over the grassy field. This almost felt like home. The Zulu warrior was ready to battle. Once he got home, he could tell King Shaka and King Shaka would be proud of him. Maybe just maybe Mandla would recieve his own axe. Among the weapons, there was one of the axes but the warrior had never used one before and knew he was not allowed so he had left the weapon for the more traditional Iklwa stabbing shield and isihlangu shield. He also had taken with him the iwisa, a wooden club and the ipapa throwing spear. There was no way Mandla would lose and he would make king Shaka proud.

Alexis looked at the field. This battleground was no different then he was used to. However this time he was alone and there was no hoplite for the close combat action. This would hinder his strategie and the Greek hoped that his opponent would be lightly armed and armoured as well.
They said that he could go home if he won this tournament but Alexis did not care about that. Here he was not one of the many soldiers, here he had his own room and was treated well. The Peltast would fight to win but if he got killed, there was nobody who was going to miss him.
At the armoury, Alexis had grabbed four javelins, a wicker shield and a xiphos sword. He did not usually have a sword in combat and was happy to finally be able to have one with him.

The two warriors spotted each other simultaneously and the Zulu yelled out as he ran towards his opponent, who only stood there. Taking advantage, Mandla threw his ipapa at the opponent, who moved away and the spear landed in the grass. Now it the turn for Alexis to throw his javelin.
As the Zulu warrior ran towards the greek, he threw his javelin. As the man saw how his opponent avoided the attack, he fled.

'Coward.' Mandla yelled as he saw his opponent running away. That wimp would be destroyed, he would never been allowed in a zulu army, this man was as weak as a woman. The Zulu ran after his greek opponent but lost his target as they entered an orchard with several trees.
Alexis looked at his opponent from behind a tree. First he would use the hit and run tactics that made the peltasts famous and if that did not work, this black man would meet a sword.
As the Zulu walked around, Alexis stepped from behind the tree and thew his second javelin. The crack of a twig had revealed  his location and Mandla turned to see the olive skinned man.
The javelin flew towards the Zulu, threw his shield in to block the attack as he moved his body away.
The javelin rammed itself through the shield and scratched the zulu shoulder, which made Mandla only angrier. As the African warrior threw his now useless shield away, he saw that the other man was already running again and he followed.

As Alexis ran out of the orchard, he stopped to throw another javelin. This one hit the tree next to the Zulu and the chase continued.
Alexis suddenly stopped as he reached a cliff. Looking down, he considered if the Greek could throw his opponent off the cliff but then thought that the other warrior might do the same to him. Still holding his last javelin and shield, the peltast waited for his opponent to come near.
Mandla saw that his opponent had nowhere to go and smiled. At last, this coward who could only run would feel how it was to face a real warrior. He could not wait to skewer the coward with his short spear. He hoped that the other warriors in this tournament would not be cowards as this was not something to brag about among the other Zulu.
As the Zulu warrior came near, his smile widened. When there was only a few feet between the two warriors, Alexis threw his last javelin. The smile on the face of Mandla turned into surpise as the javelin flew towards him and then turned into a grimace of pain as the weapon hit the Zulu in the chest and knocked him back. As the Zulu howled in pain and the blood flowed out of him, the warrior still tried to stand. He would not be killed by a coward and a cowards tactic. Managing to take a few steps, Mandla fell forwards on the ground, which drove the javelin deeper into his chest. One last breath was all he could do before the Zulu warrior died.

'Look at that. I have never seen such a battle.'  Seth said. He could hardly believe what he had just seen and tried to make the best of it. 'Two different tactics faced each other and the hit and run tactic proved superior to the charging.'  He said.
'Now everybody, please remember to send in your requests for battlefields as next week our battlefield will be one of your choosing.'  The host changed the subject quickly. 'Speaking of next week, the British Celt will face an ancient Egyptian soldier.' Seth looked into the camera before continuing. 'Who do you think will win between these two?'

'How is it looking?' Fred asked the people in the command centre. He had not expected the match to turn out this bad and the ratings showed that people stopped watching during the fight. 'Bad.' Omar said in a serious tone. 'People are complaining that it was just running and barely any action. They said that we wanted to give inferior warrior the win because quote, there is already a black warrior in the next round of the tournament.'  'That is bullshit!' Fred yelled out. 'There was nothing we could do here.' Atthe hugged her husband. 'I know but people are still saying that this win was unfair and cowardly and that the Zulu should have won this battle.' Fred knew that this was bad. ; He hated this as much as the fans, as the Zulu had been unable to show off his skills and weapons in battle.
'We are being called racists a lot now and people keep yelling that they want a do over of this match so the proper warrior could win this time.' Someone spoke.
Full of anger, Fred walked out of the building and looked at the stars. This was not how he planned things would go. The next match had to be fantastic to keep the ratings up and keep the people happy.