25

He circles the dome a couple of times on foot, a tall structure that curves outward, being the reconstructed skeleton of an old stadium, its holes and flaws patched by scrap metal and reinforced concrete. Poster frames and advertising screens, cracked and dust-stained, now announce the schedule of fights and news of current events from the dome, including the engagement of a woman named Shura.

Two arches serve as main entrances at opposite ends of the bowl, both entrances guarded by men seated in minigun turrets, which each turns with their respective lever. Chester enjoys a challenge, but he's not as stupid as he wants to make believe, he knows that charging in would kill him. Sure, it sounded exciting, but he doesn't forget that he has a princess to care for and protect.

He looks at the surrounding streets and sidewalks, there are slavers and food stalls everywhere. The boiled spider eggs dipped in caramel seemed popular with the kids. Chester peels his back from the wall and decides to enter through the front door like the others. He crosses the threshold, continues forward as if going to the bleachers, and making sure that most are minding their own business, he heads down a hallway that no one else is walking down.

From the aisle he looks back and smiles knowing that no one is following him. He turns his face back, his smile fading as he faces a woman with thick muscles, a leather garter belt, very short red hair, and a foul mood. A scimitar swings from the sash at the brunette's waist.

"This is a restricted area. The only blood and carnage you'll find here will be your own if you don't leave" the wench warns.

Chester laughs and scratches the back of his neck feigning awkwardness.

"This is awkward. You see, I was looking for the bathrooms and got lost"

The slaver countenance softens slightly.

"The latrines were relocated outside after last year's diarrhea epidemic"

"Really?! Look at that, I hadn't had it for a year! It's amazing how much everything changes in such a short period of time"

"You're telling me... I have a little girl who just turned 13, and in a few months she went from chaining dolls to wanting to go out and catch her first son of a bitch"

Chester whistles.

"Kids grow up so fast these days" says the swordsman. "I always tell mine: Hey, take it easy! Slow and steady! But those little devils don't run, they fly. I love them!"

"Yeah..."

The ghost of a smile comes and goes in the expression of the watcher, who immediately remembers her duty.

"I'll escort you to the latrines"

"Thank you, ma'am!"

Chester waits for the female to pass by his side, approaches, and slides his arms over her. Before the slavegirl can react, the strong arms close around her neck, and her back is pressed against the Lancaster's chest. The slavewoman's soles slide against the ground, and she buries her nails in the lion's swollen muscles. Chester squeezes, and notices how the woman loses strength.

"Sleep, come on" he urges in her ear. "Sleep and you may live to see your daughter"

"Stop there!

A man shouts from behind him"

Chester curses under his breath, and turns without letting go of the slaver. Tears and snot are already coming out of the wench, and she was about to roll her eyes. The newly-arrived slaver points a rifle at them.

"Drop it or I'll blow both your brains out!"

The Lancasterian immediately realized that the subject would carry out the threat.

"Wait! Do you know this bitch?!" Chester asks, wanting to buy time, under the opaque visor the eyes sweep the corridor, looking for any door to run through.

"It's another guard dog like me"

"Then you'll know what she did!" Chester improvises.

"What do I care what he did?"

"She cheated on me, man! She cheated on me with my best friend! Now I want to make her pay!"

With her consciousness almost gone, the slaverwoman slowly shakes her head and a frothy gurgle blooms from between her lips. Chester is still scheming how to resolve. But to his surprise the subject stops pointing at him.

"Did she really do that?" asks the man.

"Yes!" He nods, looking back. The slaverwoman has lost the impetus to scratch him, and her arms hang down.

"I hate it when these bitches take advantage of us! My ex was the same way"

"All whores!" Chester says and takes a couple of steps back.

"You know what? Let's teach this bitch a lesson before we blow her brains out. I know a place where no one will bother us"

"What...? Eh, i mean! Okay. I'll follow you, bro"

Volcano is his name, and he knows the janitor is busy cleaning up some mess. He leads Chester to the maintenance room, and they go in, locking up behind him. There are brooms, vacuums, shelves with cleaning chemicals, and a small television, also a bed where they throw the unconscious woman. Volcano gestures with his hand, offering her to help herself gladly while he watches the hallway.

"You better give it to him first" Chester says. "I like to watch"

Volcano accepts the kindness and fetishes of his new friend. He walks to the bed and unbuttons his pants. The moment the garments are at his knees, the Lancasterian unloads a slash.

Volcano, his mouth open in a mute scream, reveals the bloody white crab that is his severed spine. He collapses, and his face ends up on the absent slaver's abdomen.

"I would have preferred to face you head-on" Chester says to the dead man. "But I doubt that someone like you understands the honor language"

Chester leaves the maintenance room, and tries opening every room he finds throughout the coliseum. One of the doors leads him to a complex of stairs, zigzagging down and up.

(All the way up, all the way to heaven!)

He climbs up, and finds a locked door. He can break it down, but for the moment avoid attracting attention, so he climbs down.

Passing through double doors, he stands between a long row of cells that, like the corridor above, curves around the circumference of the stadium. Weeping faces, emaciated faces, bodies flayed by multi-headed whips, a multitude of sad and resigned looks between the bars. Chester grits his teeth until they thunder. With Nadjela and Erika he held his nerve to protect them from the consequences, but now that he's alone....

(I can set them free! Break them out of their chains! Cut the locks! But with slavers breathing upon this land, with Deathmask still commanding, to do so will be like plowing in the sea!)

He will help them. He promises silently from his heart, and Chester takes every promise as a mission where failure is not an option. He runs looking for any sign of the boss of the place, or the mechanics. He slows down as he catches a glimpse in the distance of a dozen men forming between the cells. All well armed, with rough faces. Chester suspects his chances without stopping moving. The corridor is little more than three meters wide, narrow enough to make the numerical advantage inconclusive. In addition, he had the option of a surprise attack.

(Strikes first, strikes twice)

He speeds up, tightens his grip, and his sword hisses a threat as he reveals five centimeters of metalcorona. One of the men turns in his direction, a short guy in a penguin-like suit and a feathered scarf, who stands outside the formation. The dwarf blinks in surprise after seeing him arrive, and grimaces in irritation.

"You! You're late!"

Chester arches an eyebrow. He slows his pace.

"You knucklehead, where did you go?!" The little man with the squeaky voice points at him with a clipboard with several names on it. "The fighting is about to start! Do you hear, or did you lack oxygen at birth?!"

The Lanceastrian scratches his scalp. He closes his sword, and excuses himself.

"I'm sorry. I went to the bathroom"

"Without permission?!"

"Volcano told me I could"

"So Volcano..." His face swells up with rage. "I'll have a word or two with that bastard... He'll learn not to exceed my authority. And you, little nobleman, get in shape! Deathmask awaits"

Chester finds it impossible to contain his smile, especially now that fate has put him in the lane he desires. Such happiness attracts distrustful glances from the other warriors, he ignores them.

(A proud man with a huge and demanding audience? I have to do it. Everything is hunky-dory)

He knows his plan has holes, but what plan is foolproof? He'd rather act and then bludgeon the consequences than freeze in fear of the risks.

"Form two lines, you bastards!" the little man shouts. Chester and the others comply without complaint. The dwarf counts. "Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten... Eleven...? Wasn't it ten...?" He thinks and looks at the clipboard, until he remembers that he has no time to waste, much less with a possible bureaucratic error. "Follow me! And don't stray an inch or you'll lose the only chance you have to be free men"

The cell area ends in a staircase that ascends to a gallery. With each step, the screams of the spectators become louder and louder, demanding blood on their hands. Chester glances at the warrior who seems most uneasy, a big guy, with a hood with holes revealing very small eyes, and a pair of huge arms riddled with scars. Chester slaps him on the back, startles him and makes him turn around, then the Lancaster takes the opportunity to tell him that it's normal to be nervous, or to want to turn and run, or to shit himself

"When the show starts, you'll see how everything flows by itself. And I'm not talking about shit, eh! Cheer up, come on"

The hooded man is calmer... He thanks him.

At the back of the gallery there are three arches sealed by iron curtains. Loudspeakers on the sides transmit a fierce voice that welcomes all visitors, announcing in passing the special competition towards liberation, and towards Shura.

"Let in the sacrifices in the name of freedom!"

The iron curtains rise in sync, the sunlight enters and the roar of the crowd. After a throat clearing from the dapper little man, Chester and the ten warrior men enter the arena.

They go in two lines, the first of six with Chester, and the second of five. The Lancaster's attention turns from the audience to the box. Two people there, one on the edge and one on his throne, looking like absolute masters of the world.

(Just like my family...)

Chester breaks formation and, noticing how the warlord's face twitches, smiles a very self-satisfied smile.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll ruin everything"

"Come back here"

He hears low, worried voices behind him.... Chester goes on with the plan, and in one movement he draws. He aims the katana at the parch, at the throne of the slave chief!

"Deathmask! Achú!" he shouts without being afraid to use the tyrant's real name. The disrespect silences the stands, only the lion continues to roar. "I, Chester Lancaster, challenge you to a duel! The winner takes all"

It is a direct cut to the pride of that masked man, who cemented his power in the terror he transmits to the rest of the thugs. Achu is stunned. The thousands of looks in the stands go from Chester to the slave leader, and vice versa. Achú is slow to react. Murmurs grow, the first stirrings of doubt to authority.

Shura stands up and goes forward to his brother.

"The only thing that awaits you from now on is a horrible death"

Chester cuts her off with a new clamor.

"Tell that woman to shut up and better go make me a sandwich!"

The audience gasps. More than one decides to get up from his seat to scurry away and escape. Shura is dumbfounded, trembling as if in convulsions from shock, this being the first time someone has spoken to her with command and sass.

"H-How dare you... You...!"

"I hear a lot of cackling, but I don't hear my sandwich being prepared!"

Shura's face reddens like an apple, her fists clench until she draws blood from her palm. But at one point his face loses color, he recoils, and falls back on his ass on the throne. By then Achú had recovered from the surprise. The caudillo grunts, and brings his face close to the microphone of the amplifier.

"Change of plans! Now there are two prizes to be given out. The first one to deliver the head of the insolent nobleman to me will win a direct ticket to freedom city. Prove yourselves! Prove that you are the best warriors!"

Chester flashes a bestial smile as he feels ten pairs of eyes stabbing like daggers into his back. He still doesn't turn, he wants to pierce Achu to the bone.

(Without lowering yourself to the level of mere mortals, right? Very well, I'll play along with your little game. Ten against one... What an injustice to these guys that that one is me!)

"Fill me with henchmen, Achu! Delay our meeting as long as you can! Sooner or later it will be your turn to compare your worth with me, if you have any worth!" He roars for every head to hear his declaration of conquest.