The World Building Community released This Prompt yesterday which asks us to write a scene in an arena of some kind. I've always loved the idea of arenas and think they serve the purpose in fiction to ramp up stakes and call back to a barbaric time in our own history.
I think some of the best arenas in gaming are the fighting pits in Oblivion, and the arena levels in all of the three Fable games. In films, Thunderdome was an interesting idea that plays into the Dystopian vibe of arenas in fiction.
"What an unprecedented turn of events! This newcomer, this nobody, this," the commentator's voice stopped; wishing for everyone to hang on the edge of their seats for him to finish his sentence. "Potential Victor?" He continued, which seemed to ramp up the crowd and get them cheering, and booing both.
Dituri Halbrook stared helplessly at her husband in the centre of the arena. The sweat poured out of him; his skin glistened with the bright beams of the overhead lights tracking his every movement. She could hardly watch as the fights went on, each one more brutal than the last, but regardless of how tough each scrap was, he had survived.
"Let's send in The Pitt Crawlers!" The commentator shouted. "You know the drill. Choose your item fighter, and only one. Will it be a new weapon? Perhaps a new piece of armour? Well, I say new, but you know what I mean. Wipe the gore off and stick it on."
Dituri watched as her husband carefully inspected the discarded items strewn across the ground. With each bit of plunder he rejected The Pitt Crawlers would pick up a carcass and drag it away, as a few others would clean up loose weapons.
"Come on Fighter, pick a weapon. Stalling won't stop the next round from happening," the commentator spoke with a patronising tone. "Only a few rounds until the Champion is unleashed!" The crowd started to cheer, clap, and throw food items into the ring. They were frenzied and wild, from her position in the VIP booth she could look out and see their faces. Ugly, dirty, many people from many worlds, all bored, and all thirsty for pain and blood.
Scoosha was the kind of world most would avoid. It was desolate, baron, devoid of civilization. To be poor on Scoosha, was to live between life and death. There was little in the way of prospects, and most who found themselves here were desperate to leave. Dituri and her husband Cantos Halbrook found themselves in a bad situation, one which led them to the mess they found themselves in.
After coming to Scoosha to trade and sell some wears, while en route to Kah-Vita, they were robbed. Within the first day of arriving, they had made some sales and while stocking up on some essential gear their ship was left unattended. The dockyard was supposed to be secure, but upon arrival, they noticed bodies and a crowd. The security had been killed in some sort of raid, and among the ships stolen, theirs was one.
"It's just the way it is here I'm afraid." One of the local law enforcers told them. "People are that desperate to leave, it's really their only option."
"What kind of answer is that? We have a tracker, can't you send people to go after them?" Cantos asked.
"I'm afraid not, we're running a little thin as it is, and besides, once they're out of our cluster, they're out of our jurisdiction. If you want someone to go after them, I can give you the info of some good bounty hunters?"
They took the information and met with a few, each one was charging ridiculous prices however since the local authorities didn't place bounties on the thieves, it was up to the two of them to make it worth the risk of hunting the targets. One did offer to take the case, for a total of 7,000 FSTs, and after he ran them down and recovered the ship, the price doubled out of their reach.
"Don't worry, there are other ways of paying your debt." He replied after hearing the news.
Instantly Dituri thought the worst, and after the slave collars were strapped on each of them, they knew it was hopeless.
"The man fights, if he wins, I get my money, if he loses, you're being sold to the highest bidder and I'm keeping the ship." Vanlith Sladeck had a reptile smile and cold dead eyes. He wore heavy battle armour, worn and mismatched, and he seemed to have many underlings.
Dituri stared into the arena, watching the gates lift as another fighter stepped out, armed slightly better than the last. Cantos didn't seem phased at all, instead, his hands seemed steady, and each step was with purpose and totally controlled.
"See him, he's killed twenty-six in the arena. A slave, like you," Vanlith leaned closer, Dituri could feel his breath in her ear. "See him," he tapped her shoulder and she turned, looking past his face to an overweight balding man sitting on a throne-like seat. "Lachlan Avent, the owner of the arena. He's the owner of the person who will kill your husband, and then he will own you."
Vanlith leaned back giving Dituri space, and she was lost in thought staring at Lachlan Avent, who slowly turned to lock eyes with her, and as he did, a sick smile grew on his face. It was painful to watch; almost as painful as watching Cantos compete in this disgusting contest.