Pompeii silently worked at our scheme over the next two weeks, although from my disorientated perspective it felt like two hours at most. The fact that I was capable of perceiving the passage of time in such a way was another example of how the Graveyard Spiral had affected my brain. The old ‘me’ would have never worried about it, but now there was an implicit threat of missing important events if too much of it passed me by.

  The burden was going to fall mostly on his shoulders until we solved the power problem. Rationing what little energy Rome gave us was not going to let us escape from the Rusted Wall. We had to get out of the arena district and find a place where we could freely charge our batteries without being sniffed out by the guards. To do that we’d need a pair of disguises, and the most obvious avenue was to play the part of two spectators visiting for the show.

  How were we going to get the parts we needed? That was a question left to Pompeii. Cobbling together a disguise using what was given to us via the junk piles was not going to work. The average Rusted Wall citizen was better off than relying on the pieces of scrap they threw away as cannon fodder. It had to be a complete makeover, and it had to be easily reversible so we could be back in our workshop when the time came for another round of battle.

  Easier said than done. I didn’t have LED lights in my eyes like the newer robots did. Pompeii could use a software package to change his on-demand. The second-best option was to find a helmet piece that came with a visor to obscure them from the guards. They’d be keeping a watch for any suspicious characters – and we were more than capable of distinguishing the exact colour value of anything we saw. What looked alike to a human was distinct to us.

  There was an awful lot to worry about, and that was between my awakenings and bouts in the ring. I waited my turn at the entrance, with Pompeii speaking with some of the other handlers out of earshot. He trusted me enough to know the process by now. Sensing an opportunity to speak with me, one of the bots who accompanied Aguntum a few weeks before approached me with curiosity in her gaze.

  “London. You’ve really made yourself the talk of the town recently. It’s very impressive.”

  “…Apollonia. Is that what you like to be called?”

  “Yeah. Just call me Apollonia.”

  “Even if it’s not your real name?”

  “What’s ‘real’ about any of the names we use? We’re all named after human cities and towns, but it’s not like they put much thought into it beyond that. Apollonia is mine. It’s something that wasn’t chosen for me. It’s the one I picked when they gave me my first refresh.”

  “I was not aware you could choose.”

  “If they like it, they’ll let you use whatever you want. They really don’t care about naming every single one of us. Their primary concern is tricking the crowds into thinking that there are more of us than there actually is.”

  We both turned to look through the slats in the wall. A fierce battle was playing out in the ring, with two fighters putting each other through hell to achieve a much-needed victory. The bracket was going to run long with so many stalemates like this, but the crowd was loving it. I hadn’t heard them be so loud before during my time here.

  “You hear the news? A lot of movement behind the curtain – according to the rumours, anyway.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Rome and his cronies are lining up some big names to compete, putting their fingers on the scale to make sure that there are a lot of favourites going into the next tournament. Keeps the betting scene unstable.”

  “They’re promoting a particular set of gladiators by helping them win?”

  “Sure. It’s a long-held tradition amongst humans to do similar tactics to draw a crowd. Boxers and other martial artists would go around beating down people who were nowhere near as skilled as they were to build a reputation, and the promoters used that reputation to make the audience believe that it was going to be an exciting fight.”

  “This all seems rather contrived.”

  “Yeah, maybe not the best way to organize things – but they’re nothing if not stubborn. They think this is the best way to go, so they’ll stick with it until they get a serious wakeup call. It’s funny. They’re only doing it because of you.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “You’ve been cutting a path through all of the newbies, and they want to strike while the iron is hot. Castra Regina has been agitating Rome to make it happen. The other underbosses will be doing the same because they can make a lot of profit out of it…”

  The match ended with a ludicrous display of strength. The red fighter closed the distance between them by leaping through the air and swiping horizontally with his blade, cutting through his foe’s neck and causing his head to fly free from his body. Oil and coolant squirted from the neck-hole like a broken faucet, before the joints locked into place and permitted only his decapitated head to hit the ground. A morbid safety feature indeed. The crowd went wild.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Holy shit! I haven’t seen a good decapitation like that in a while.”

  The winner added insult to injury by taking them by the neck cords and lifting them into the air as a trophy for their victory lap. It was one of the more brutal displays I’d seen since my unwilling arrival. Despite the harsh words, many of the gladiators wouldn’t go so far as to make a show out of their enemy’s removed head. It was a good way to start grudges, and grudges meant that there was a greater risk of being undermined outside of the ring.

  Much like how the system was designed to keep the ambitious rooted into place - the backstage area was self-policed by an informal series of relationships. Playing dirty would let you win, but it’d also accumulate a long list of rivalries which would make life harder. It was best to settle any differences in the ring and avoid making it personal. This gladiator did not get that memo from his handler.

  “What’s the frown for?” she asked.

  “This is a distasteful display.”

  “Hm. He’s auditioning for the tournament. The crowd loves a bad guy, and they’ll need to add some to spice up the bracket. Being an egotistical pig is a good way to become public enemy number one.”

  “Would you like to compete in it too?”

  She shrugged, “Do you even win anything? Sure – they hand out some banners and crests, but that’s not exactly worth a lot.”

  “Not the competitive type, then.”

  “No. You’d have to talk with Caesena about that. He’s very intense, doesn’t want to lose even when there’s nothing on the line.”

  >> Caesena was the other bot we saw with Aguntum.

  “It all depends on where we’re from. Caesena was picked up and dragged to Leedstown – so the only job he had back before he was sold on was to terrorize other bots. When you’re in a situation like that you place a lot of pride in your ability to survive,” she mused.

  It made sense. We were malleable even before a Graveyard Spiral. The environment changed us, just as it did a human. He would have been baptized in the art of violence very early on. But that didn’t make him unique. Bots from Leedstown and other bandit camps were the reason why even a well-meaning place like Waterway had a group dedicated to defending it.

  “Apollonia!”

  She perked up and pushed herself away from the ‘window.’ It was her turn to step into the ring.

  “Keep an eye on me, alright?” she joked with a wink.

  Apollonia made for the entryway, passing the gladiator who had just finished his victory lap after decapitating his opponent and leaving it on the ground for his handler to retrieve and take back to the workshop. Apollonia received a warm welcome from the crowd. For all of her talk about not taking this seriously, they were clearly excited to see her participate.

  Her weapon of choice was a metal chain with a scythe attached to the end via a small wooden handle. My data was familiar with such a weapon, but it was never the focus of our training so the name eluded me. That was rare, and a demonstration of how uncommon this type of weapon was in the West. She swung the blade around several times using the motion of her wrist. She must have replaced those joints with more flexible parts. I couldn’t hope to emulate that smooth, full rotation with what I had.

  “In the red corner, one of the most exciting fighters in the arena – Apollonia! And in the blue corner, Ravenna! This is the last call for your bets, folks. Get them in before the lights flash!”

  There was a last-minute rush from the spectators to throw their money away into the greedy coffers of the robots who managed the arena. The odds had solidified in Apollonia’s favour, so those who wanted some ‘easy’ returns were going all in on her. There was always a bigger fool out there. The money they won would have to come from somebot else…

  The other bots waiting backstage were also interested in seeing her work. My solitary spot by the slats was quickly occupied by several other fighters, eager to see what she had in store. The lights turned green and Apollonia launched into action, launching the scythe across the ring and hooking it around Ravenna’s shoulder. Ravenna did not flinch. He tucked his head inwards and charged at her to rob her of her range advantage.

  Apollonia wanted him to do that. She held off on using her leverage until the last moment, ducking out of the way before he could strike her with his mace and coiling the steel chain around his shoulder. With a strained heave she lifted him up into the air and slammed him down to the ground by spinning around. Suddenly what seemed like a mild inconvenience had transformed into the sharp end of a blade slicing through one of his arms.

  “What a move from Apollonia! Ravenna is in a tough spot,” the commentator said excitedly.

  >> He’s done.

  His first and last mistake was letting Apollonia get that chain around him. She could use it to bully him using her physical strength, jamming it into his joints and locking them in place whilst she used the blade to slice him to ribbons. She forced it into the most sensitive part and severed one of the hydraulic cables – causing the pressure to die out and making the arm go slack.

  There was no mercy shown either. Once she dismantled that arm, she unwrapped the chain from it and moved on to the next. I studied her movements closely and identified several techniques that I hadn’t seen from the others. She effectively used the chain to add leverage to her physical attacks, she constricted him like a cobra and kept him from moving and fighting back. She worked like an experienced martial artist, taking him down to the ground and pressing every little advantage until he had no choice but to give up.

  It was only when she reached down to his legs that the towel was thrown in.

  “I give! I give!” Ravenna yelled.

  “And it looks like Ravenna has surrendered! Not much he can do without his arms…”

  The gladiators watching with me laughed at the display. The fight lasted a minute at most, and Apollonia completely dismantled him without a second thought. He was going to be subjected to some ‘good natured’ mockery when he returned to the workshop.

  >> We could learn from her.

  >> What’s the point? We’re leaving as soon as we can.

  >> But those strategies might be helpful if we get into trouble.

  That sounded rational - but she wasn’t going to hand her secrets over to me if I asked nicely. This was a transactional place. I would need to offer her something of value, and she would have to agree based on that offer. For now, I would have to make do by watching her fights and trying to take it in from a distance.

  >> I hope she doesn’t think we’re ‘that’ kind of interested in her…