Written: Friday. August 16, 2019.
I still remember the day when I was brought into this, well, I don't actually know what to call it. Let's call it The Cage. A little bit inappropriate, given that this "cage" could fill up almost every single intelligent species known in the galaxy. Some call it the zoo, or the arena, or the most accurate of all: A damn good show.
I never got to watch myself fight. Although, of course, that didn't really matter, and didn't really prove to be of use to me. Since my goal was to win, I instead needed to be watching the others fight. So that I could learn their moves, their battle strategies, their strengths and weaknesses. It was all I ever did in my spare time. If I could even call it that.
When I wasn't fighting some other challenger, I was put into a room: My quarters. It was a small room. No windows, no air conditioning, no door knobs. The walls just seemed to open automatically whenever it was my turn to fight. So there was nothing there, except for the monitors. And the occasional meal that I had to ingest, that was sent through a rectangular hole by a mechanical hand, three times a day. Whenever a meal arrived, I would hear a soft bell to notify me of it. That bell was also my clock, since there were none of the traditional kind hanging in any of the walls of my room. Not even a digital indicator, or a voice that would tell me if it was morning time, or night time.
But then again, time and days flow differently in outer space.
I don't even know which sector of the universe we're in right now. I'm not even sure if I'm still in the same universe as to where I came from before they took me. But one thing was for sure. All of that don't matter. I'm stuck here, in my square room, hearing bells and eating grub off of trays, waiting for my next opponent.
There were never bells when I was summoned. There was just the abrupt and very loud humming of the molecular transportation system this space ship has. Whenever it happened, there was just this strong light coming from everywhere. I could feel a slight coolness whenever I'm beamed down. Must be the 'calm before the storm' feeling us challengers get to feel before our demise.
It has never been easy, being a challenger in the Cage. Even as I've won every single fight so far, and I've had a hundred and counting, the victories never seem to feel any different than the defeats. Of course, how would I ever know the difference. I've never lost. But I don't actually win anything for it, either. I just get to live longer, and hope that the next challenger is an easy kill.
When they summoned me, the first time, I was lucky.
I was working on a car that had just been brought in for repair. It was my turn for the day to dismantle the broken parts of the vehicle, so I took a hammer from the tool box. The next thing I knew, a red skinned, four-eyed, six foot flat, hell-of-a-thing was looking right at me. I could've sworn that he, if it was even a he, had the same facial expression as I did. It was the face of fear and confusion.
Then a loud voice came out of nowhere. It was a muffled voice that sounded like it was coming from a very large speaker inside of a large stadium. I didn't quite understand it at first, until I realized that was the least of my problems. I wasn't breathing. Or I couldn't breath. Either of the two. Main thing is, wherever I was, it didn't have the same air I was familiar with. Or maybe there was no air at all.
I fell to my knees. Grasping for air that wasn't there. The red guy with me was doing the same thing. I was about to blackout when something metallic latched onto my chest. And when I mean latched on, I mean really, it latched on with its tiny little mechanical teeth, like a piranha catching your leg, or a cat's claws gripping at your skin. And it gripped tightly.
Immediately afterwards, I started to breath. I was inhaling and exhaling. My vision started to clear out. The stars were gone. I was safe. But not entirely. I was still in this stadium-looking place, with this red abomination.
It seemed that he was beginning to get some air as well. We both got back to our feet. It was safe for me to assume that the red guy also had feet. He also had hands, a head, a face--not a very good looking face, but a face no less--a body, and a few other things, like those two extra eyes at the bottom of his main eyes--or were those the main eyes he used? Or did he use them altogether at the same time? I don't know. He had a scaly hide, much like of an alligator. It wasn't too bumpy. It almost formed a pattern. Maybe this was a tribal member of its species. That, I also wouldn't know.
But then again, I didn't know a lot of things, especially in this particular moment. Where was I? How did I get here? What was that voice trying to say? What were those other voices? It seemed to be chanting something. Were those cheers? I don't know. It didn't sound like any language I've heard of. Not that I know more than the English language. But I've heard enough Italian, Indian, or Japanese dialect, or whatever other dialect, from watching movies on the television. And this voice was speaking nothing close to any of those. It might not even be of this Earth.
Wait a minute. Was I even still on Earth? Is this some sort of other world that I am in? Am I out there? Am I really out there, in the far reaches of space? That would explain the red ugly mug standing near me, confused as I am. Maybe even asking the same questions as I am right now.
Then that must mean that voice was alien. I was hearing an alien voice, that's why I couldn't understand any of it. I tried speaking to it. It seemed to come from everywhere. So I shouted to the air.
"I can't understand!" I said.
"iddush-wiashoikuuiii" the loud voice was saying.
"I said I can't understand!" I pleaded. I looked at the red one, but he seemed to be trying to speak to the voice as well. I couldn't understand him either.
Then the metallic object latched onto my chest started to move. It hurt like hell. I tried to take it off, but it only latched onto me more. There was no use. It was turning and twisting in ways I couldn't ever imagine. And I've had my fair share of mechanical objects. Machines tend to operate in the same way, the same movements, the same programming. This small bug is obviously not a machine made by man, but something else entirely. It was hopeless to figure out how to get it out off my skin.
But then, when the bug stopped moving, the voice became familiar. Well, it wasn't a voice I've heard before, but I was beginning to hear words. English words, to be exact. Maybe that was what the bug was for. It was an air-supply mechanism and a translator.
"Ahem...as I was saying awhile ago. Both challengers must fight to the death. Plain and simple. Both of you were chosen at random. We do this quite often on Wednesday Nights. Now, human, we are only adhering to your Terran Language. What you are hearing is a translation of the collective language of the universe. The same could be said for this Orgavian with you. He is hearing my words in his alien-tongue, and you are hearing me with yours. Yes, my dear. We are all aliens here. Every single species in the galaxy is present right now in this here Intergalactic Battle Arena. But this is only one of my many Battle Arenas. Yet, let that not concern you. You're most concern right now, are the rules of the game.
"You are to defeat the opponent present with you tonight. Whoever kills the other, wins. There are no survivors here. Just Champions, and of course, the forgotten souls of countless random aliens I choose to participate in my game. If you win the round, you wait until you are summoned for the next one. Once this season's tournament is finished, and once a Grand Champion has been made, then comes the next season, and then the next, and then the next. And then afterwards, it's all up to how the show is going. If people demand it, then we get renewed for a new season. Plain and simple. Any questions? No? Then let the game begin."
The voice stopped. The lights on the bleachers where aliens of various color, shapes and sizes were seated, were turned off. They too stopped chanting. Everything seemed to have stopped. Even time seemed to slow down. I could hear my own heart beating two-hundred times per minute. I didn't know what to do, didn't know what was going on, what that whole speech meant. Just looking back at it now, it seemed like such a long time ago. But that moment was so vivid, so important, that I always have to remember it, because that was when I truly knew that there was no turning back anymore. No hope of returning to that cold blue world I once called my home.
I gripped the hammer I was holding. Held it tightly in the palm of my hand. There was something in the glimmer of that Orgavian's four yellow eyes, that made everything clear. It made everything else make sense.
The game had just started.
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