“What others?”
“Those who defy the laws of the cities, of course. Some are condemned to die in the Wasteland of starvation or dehydration, others get sold to Collectors to be trained as fighters, and there are some that are forced to live and work in the Boroughs with the Laics. That by far is the worst punishment ever.”
“Who are the Laics?”
“Honey, have you been living in a cave? The Laics are the working class, those who work for the cities. They do all the menial labor, crafting, anything the Tyreans or Acherons view as beneath their status. I wouldn’t be caught dead being stuck as a Laic, horrible people.”
“What happened to the wife?”
“She got a new lover last I heard, another Superior’s wife. I guess it’s safer to screw an equal than the hired help.” She laughs and leaves the room.
I remain sitting, thinking about how Corinna referred to the Wasteland as a place to die. People flee to the Wasteland in order to survive, escape the hardships of the Boroughs. But it seems the cities are using it to threaten their own people into submission.
I go back to my room and dress.
Everyone is gathered at the elevator when I arrive, except for Raven. Apparently she is having issues with her footwear. The fighters are all dressed alike, in two-piece, long-sleeved outfits made of a black colored material that appears to be a blend of moleskin and an elastic textile that I don’t recognize, with gray metal threads interwoven into the cloth. Their boots go up to just below the knee and are made of leather also black in color. Raven joins us five minutes late and receives an earful from Artemis.
We enter into the elevator and descend, passing the lobby, which is crowded with people all dressed in semi-formal attire. When we come to a stop at the garage level, our shuttle is waiting for us. Exiting the building, we go back the way we had come. At the interchange we make a left and veer north. I spot thousands of people gathering on the pavement outside, slowly making their way into the stadium. Our shuttle moves left and under the stadium where we stop and sit for some time. Ahead of us there are lines of shuttles also loaded with fighters waiting to exit.
All fighters are wearing the same outfit, which I guess must be a regulation by the High Ruler. We exit the shuttle and are immediately directed to our right. Artemis takes my hand and pulls me away from the others, who get in the queue for processing. A woman in a white uniform goes down the line of fighters, asking them questions, looking down at her tablet to verify the information, and then digitally stamps a code on the inside of each wrist. Another woman walks just behind, scanning the code, which appears on a large electronic screen, showing the fighters’ name as well as the Possessor they belong to.
Artemis yanks on my hand, pulling me in the opposite direction. We wait in our own line to board the elevator that will take us to the seats above. Artemis greets people as we wait, some he calls by name. He is more relaxed now that we are here, but he continues to hold onto my hand, perhaps afraid I’ll get lost in the crowd - or try running.
We get into the elevator, practically squeezed against the glass of the outer walls from the number of people riding. The ride, thankfully, is short. I trip on the shoe of the woman in front of me as I exit and she turns and leers at me in disgust. Artemis smiles at her, which causes her to blush and she quickly darts away into the crowd. The elevator lands us outside of the stadium, not inside like I’d thought. People are clamoring to get inside, anxious to get the best seats as they are not assigned.
Artemis lets go of my hand, only to bend his arm and insist I link my arm with his. I oblige and he escorts me down the sidewalk towards a mob of onlookers gathered by an entrance labeled Elysium. The closer we approach, the louder the mob becomes. They begin to shout Artemis’ name, bombarding him with questions about his fighters.
“Artemis, which one of the five you have entered is your favorite?” One woman asks, recording device in hand, shoved close enough to us that I feel the electricity pulsing through its circuits.
“Well, my dear, I dare say they are all my favorites.”
This generates a laugh among the crowd, smiles splash across plastic faces.
“But honestly I would have to say its number twenty. He’s been undefeated in every battle he has participated in. Although don’t count out my new-comer, number twenty-three. She has extreme potential.”
I’m confused for a moment until I remember that the fighters are given numbers and not names when in battle. Matt is twenty and Raven is twenty-three. I look above us and spot an identical screen to the one in the lower level hanging over our heads, minus the fighters’ names. I spot Corinna as number thirty-seven, Aidan is fifteen and Wes is four.
“Artemis, do you think fifteen will be able to win this time? He has been unable to get past the opening battle for the last four sessions. Do you think he will be able to overcome his shortfalls today?” a short man asks in the front row.
“I certainly hope so. If not, perhaps a turn in the Boroughs will straighten him out.”
This produces another round of laughter and fake smiles.
“Artemis, who is your companion today? You normally come alone, so our readers will want to know who you’re escorting,” a large plump woman
