“Did you do it?”

  “Yes. During the winner’s march. I made sure to get all sides of the arena.”

  Pompeii nodded.

  “Good. Hopefully that’ll be enough to get Venice on our side.”

  It was an understated response to another tough fight. The weak participants were being weeded out, and there were no free matches left in the bracket. The only respite one could find was in a foe’s ill fortune. I was banged up.

  “You’re quick to work with a criminal, although I suppose I don’t have any right to judge your decision-making when I’ve already placed so much faith in you.”

  “Venice and I are different beasts, London. Remember that. You should always assess how trustworthy a bot is before agreeing to anything. The only reason we’re working with him is because it’s the easiest way to get a ticket out of the city.”

  Pompeii rifled through one of his wooden crates and searched for the other item we’d need to convince Venice to let us through with his smuggling crew. Apparently, the winner of the previous tournament was granted a special cape as a reward for their victory. Pompeii had buried the thing as deep as he could so that he never had to look at it again.

  “Does it bring back bad memories?”

  “Yeah. Real bad memories. It’s like a personal insult to me. Good job on making us so much money, here’s a cheap piece of fabric we found out in the garbage. He was wearing this when he got killed too. There’s a big freaking hole cut right through the back where he got stabbed.”

  He finally found it after a few minutes of shuffling junk around. The red cape wasn’t high luxury by any means. It was a piece of red silk bound together with golden thread, designed to be connected around the neck so it could hand limply over one shoulder. True to Pompeii’s word – a large hole had been cut through the rear side, but something else caught my eye.

  “These are… burn marks?”

  The hole was clean, or at least it appeared as such at first glance, but a closer inspection revealed that the edges of the hole had been charred black by high temperatures. That soot was a dead giveaway that the bot who stabbed him used a restricted heat weapon.

  “What did he use?"

  “I didn’t see the exact moment he did it. I don’t know what he did.”

  “I have an idea. I’ve seen Oxford use a similar weapon during the raid on Waterway. An emitter powerful enough to cut through metal.”

  “It’s not a surprise. The Committee has a lot of money and power – so the most dangerous weapons and nicest parts are never far from reach. Must have been built-in to his arm…”

  “The one I saw wasn’t so sophisticated.”

  Pompeii hesitated for a second, “Huh. I mean, I didn’t see him draw a weapon, and by the time I looked he was already fighting with Antioch. Must have slid back into place really quick.”

  >> What was that reaction about? It caught him off-guard for some reason.

  He shuttled the cape away and left it on the workbench at the back of the room for later. The next step was to use a stepladder to get up to the rafters and remove the banner that hung from the crossbeam. I observed in contemplative silence during the process. The sounds of other bots chatting and handlers working leaked through the curtain.

  It took a few strong pulls to get the nail free from the loop holding it up. I moved into position to catch Pompeii if he fell, but my concern was misplaced. He kept his legs steady and pried it free, placing it down with the cape and climbing back down again. Pompeii stared at the two items. A mixture of different emotions were running through his head.

  “Ugh. I’m not stupid enough to think of these as mementos. He died for this cheap crap, I’d be happier never laying eyes on them again. Nothing more humiliating than being forced to keep them around just for appearances’ sake.”

  He froze, as did I. The sounds of feet and servos approaching our workshop from outside. There was no time to hang it back in place before the curtain was pulled aside and a pair of heavily-armoured guards marched through. They were quickly joined by Castra Regina. I hadn’t seen Castra since the first day of the tournament where he took part in the opening ceremony.

  “Is this a bad time, gentlemen?”

  “We’re redecorating,” Pompeii said – reacting quickly to the intrusion.

  Castra Regina clasped his hands together; “How delightful. Making room for another banner, perhaps? I admire your confidence! Giving them both pride of place is important, and you’ve been doing very well so far…”

  “I’m flattered, Castra Regina. I hope the purpose of this visit isn’t an unpleasant one.”

  “That, I cannot guarantee, someone very important is asking for a meeting with you.”

  Given that he came with an armed escort, this was not a request. We were going to meet with them whether we liked it or not. Pompeii nodded along with them, and to my surprise I was also dragged by the arm to attend as well. We were marched to the balcony and through the access door, but instead of going into the casino we headed up a second flight of spiralling stairs until we reached the top floor.

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  With every floor that was climbed Pompeii’s sense of dread grew stronger. I knew that because I felt the same way. It was a similar sensation to the one I experienced during the attack on Waterway. The fear of losing something, even if you never realized that you cared. The most basic fear of all was the fear of losing your own ‘life,’ and missing what might have come in the future had you survived.

  “This is bad,” Pompeii murmured, “Really bad.”

  If the guards and Castra overheard him, they didn’t reply to his concerns. We approached a set of heavy wooden doors. The guards stopped and pulled them open. We followed closely behind Castra and found ourselves standing on one of the verandas that jutted out from near the ceiling of the arena.

  Opulence was the only word that came to mind.

  The other areas of the coliseum were designed to portray wealth and culture, yet they were never given this level of detail. The materials were obviously valuable, brass and gold were etched into almost every surface. That gold was painstakingly gathered and smelted down from broken electronics. The sheer amount of time that must have taken to do…

  This was a cut above the rest. Away from the unwashed masses they could really let their wealth shine through. There was no risk of some worker smudging the reflective metals with their oil-caked fingers. Silk banners hung from every surface. There was even a plush carpet, ultimately useless because none of us had real biological feet to feel it with. It was just there to brag.

  Lounging there in a small circle were two figures I did not recognize, but Pompeii did.

  “We might be in trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s Rome, and Antioch.”

  Castra Regina, Rome, and the biggest fish of all – Antioch. Seeing this many high-ranking members of the Committee in one place could only mean bad news for us. The tension on the balcony was so thick that I could cut it with a knife. We were surrounded by heavily armed guards. Antioch’s exterior shell was plated with pieces of metal, itself emblazoned with wreaths and flowers. The bronze finishing shimmered with every movement he made. A white robe covered the rest of his body.

  “I would have thought that your schedule was too busy to come and visit a lowly handler, Antioch.”

  “Lowly? Hardly. You’re a former champion of the arena! You’re held in very high esteem.”

  “You know me too well to try these tricks. There’s no ‘esteem’ to be earned in this city.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Pompeii. We like bots who make us money, who keep the wheels turning. You’ve always been one of the biggest draws to this place. The audience trusts you the most out of any of those handlers down there.”

  Rome remained conspicuously silent. His place in the hierarchy was a mystery, after all, he was subservient to the Committee. How much influence did he hold over their decision-making, and what were the consequences for crossing him? Given that this was the first time we’d met – I suspected that he was a hands-off kind of manager for the arena.

  >> The jig’s up. Antioch knows something, why else would he call us up here?

  Pompeii pushed on to try and get to the point of the meeting as quickly as he could.

  “The only thing I can imagine is that we’ve done something terribly wrong to earn the attention of so many important people.”

  “Do you think you’ve done anything wrong?”

  “…Yearning to go outside?” he offered.

  Antioch shook his head, “The thing is I’ve always assumed that every bot who gets the short end of the stick wants to escape. If not to the upper echelons of our society, then the outside world. They will find it wanting by comparison, most of them will come back soon enough.”

  “Are you trying to imply that the other Committee members don’t see that?” I asked.

  “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. They might admire the aesthetics of the greatest of empires, but even the Romans struggled against movements that saw their might as a burden, rather than a benefit. We could construct the ideal city here in the Big Under, and there would still be those who want to leave it behind. Although – this place is far from ideal.”

  Castra Regina jumped in to spit-shine his boots, “Ideal is a difficult standard to meet! The Rusted Wall is unparalleled amongst the various settlements that appeared after the evacuation.”

  Rome sat silently with his arms crossed.

  “To respond to your answer – we aren’t singling you out, Pompeii. We felt it would be best to motivate our gladiators by showing them a brief glimpse of what they stand to gain. Castra Regina suggested a very special prize, and I do believe it’ll lead to some interesting battles now that the field has been whittled down. Both you and London here will be recognized as citizens and released from your shackles.”

  Pompeii was taken aback by the news, “And you’ve offered this to the others as well?”

  “You’re the first to hear of it. Since the prize is so valuable, we thought it appropriate to demonstrate our sincerity by revealing it in person. The freedom to do whatever you please within this great city! I won’t ask what you would do with it. I merely hope that you’ll fight with your full vigour for the rest of the tournament.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind.”

  Antioch clapped his hands together and turned to Rome.

  “Do you have anything to say, Rome?”

  “…I like watching you fight, London. Don’t disappoint me with an ignoble exit from the competition.”

  “Hm. To the point, as usual.”

  Castra Regina spread his arms, “And there we have it, gentlemen. Fortune favours the bold – as the humans liked to say. The grand prize is thus; official recognition as a citizen of the Rusted Wall, along with a banner, a cloak to denote your status as champion, and a cash prize. I hope you find that agreeable.”

  “Very,” Pompeii sniped, “Very much so.”

  “Then allow me to escort you back to the workshop.”

  Antioch waved us away with a dismissive flick of his wrist. The guards standing by the door closed in around us as we left and followed all the way back down the same route we arrived from. As soon as we were back at our workshop, they continued on to the next competitor’s hovel so they could also receive a grilling from the bossman.

  “Do you think they really mean to award freedom to the winner?” I asked Pompeii.

  “Sure – but don’t forget that it can easily be taken away whenever they like, and do you trust a word these parasites say? At best it’ll let us get out of here without having to use the disguises.”

  He wasn’t convinced that we’d even get that much from them. We were dirt under their heels, and they could renege on the prize at their leisure. What were we going to do about it if they did? They only thought about awarding these things because it didn’t cost them a lot. Freedom was free, easily given and easily taken.

  And what freedom was there outside of this arena anyway? The freedom to work for them in a different capacity, paying taxes on any money made and letting them live a life of luxury. The energy desert was designed to keep everyone here, and keep the enemies from knocking on the gates. It was a double-edged sword though. If they needed to leave the Rusted Wall and strike at the enemy it would be difficult to move a large force…

  “Just be happy that they didn’t rake us over the coals for our rule-breaking. We’ll stick with the plan we’ve got for now. If you win somehow, it’ll be a bonus, but I wouldn’t bet on that being our ticket out of here.”

  “It never hurts to have a contingency plan,” I concurred.