Voila.

-----
It was a long day at work. Writing clickbait titles and BuzzFeed quizzes could only be so satisfying. Camille was tired, and unfulfilled. But after years of research, things would finally look up. It was astonishing how little real journalism there was on demonology.

She stopped by Whole Foods on her way back. Microwave-safe ramen (too many fires) and some fruit (notably three different types of apples), it was a short walk from her studio apartment. She opened the gate and walked up the stairs, unlocked her space and shut the door behind her. The deadbolt slid back with a firm click.

The space had been prepped in advance. Candles, chalk, a little potpourri. The whole shabang. She took out an apple out of her bag, and spoke some old Latin words. She took the blade in her left hand, and cut into the apple. A thick, deep red blood began to ooze out. She nearly dropped the knife. Nothing happened.

She waited. And waited. And waited.
"Well, sh-"
A rumble shook her room. She nearly fell.
Bigger and louder, they increased. She braced herself.

With an explosion and fire, the side of her wall burst open as if it were a portal, and twenty void black humanoid creatures rushed in, and started tearing the place apart. Twirling and swirling, inspecting every nook and cranny. Looking deeply and curiously at this new human they had been met with.

A louder explosion, and they all dropped to their knees. A young woman, oozing with power and status walked through the wall, bearing a briefcase. She opened it, and the contents were glorious. Camille reached for it, but was restrained.

A contract. A quill. A signature in blood.
Then came the burning onto Camille's back of a sigil, a black rune of power. The pain was almost unbearable, but it was worth it.

And with a bang, everything disappeared but Camille, laying on the floor. The only trace of what had happened was the destruction and the smell of burning.

It had been a long last day at work. Camille got up, renewed, and walked out the door.

-----

A character I've been thinking about, but haven't really used ever. Maybe I'll write more later. Hope you enjoyed.

-Helsinki

Therefore, I'd better do this one. Should probably have warnings for something, but I'm not sure exactly what.


Francis sat at the desk, reading through a copy of the latest magi-scientific journal. The paper on Elvish societies wasn’t really the sort of thing that interested him, but he made a point of reading every article. You never knew when the information might come in handy.

On the floor in front of him, Tiger and Holly were playing a board game, or trying to: each of them kept accusing the other of cheating. They were both as bad as each other, or as good as each other, depending on your point of view.

The door suddenly jerked open. Francis looked up from the journal to see Alice standing in the door, looking absolutely furious.

“Hello, dear,” he said calmly, wondering what had set off her red-hot temper this time.

“Don’t you “dear” me, you evil man!” shouted Alice.

“What makes you think I’m evil?” asked Francis, as if curiously.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly guess. Maybe… I don’t know… hiring an assassin to eliminate your rival?”

Francis was surprised – how on earth had she known that? – but he concealed it effortlessly. “I – I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He knew it was no use trying to talk his way out of this, but he could buy himself a bit of time.

“Really?” she said. “Then what is this?”

She pulled a document out of her pocket, unfolded it, and threw it onto his desk.

Francis merely moved it aside so he could continue reading. He already knew what the document said: it was an agreement between himself and one of the best assassins in the land to, as Alice had put it, “eliminate his rival” in exchange for generous payment.

“Well?” said Alice furiously. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pry into my secret documents.”

That was enough for Alice to snap. She began yelling terrible words, spells to strike fear into even Francis’s heart.

Objects all around arose to do Alice’s bidding, and flung themselves at Francis. His drawer sprung out and the dagger in it leaped up.

He was only just able to duck in time to avoid it hitting his throat. Instead, it dug into his cheek. He pulled it out and hastily said a protective charm, blocking Alice’s magic from coming within a metre of him.

Then he felt his cheek. His hand came away covered in blood. He knew it would take all of his magic to heal a wound made with his own dagger, and that the scar would never fade. “I think you’re being a bit of a hypocrite, Alice. That was pretty evil magic you just used.

He heard a scream from outside and saw Holly running away on her tiny legs, abandoning the board. Tiger, too, retreated to a safe distance, and then asked “Mummy, why are you hurting Daddy?”

Alice ignored him and said: “Right. That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m leaving.”

“Fine,” said Francis, reaching for a handkerchief to mop the blood off his cheek. “Goodbye.”

Alice looked startled at his rather unemotional reaction. “Come on, children,” she said, but neither Tiger nor Holly moved.

Because I can. Trigger warnings for allusions to rape.


“What’s your name?” 8386071 asked the sweating, trembling young man. An angry red scar was seared on his chest; he’d been recently implanted.

“Coryn,” the man said. “You?”

8386071 shrugged. “No name, just a number. They call me the Scorpion in the arena, but only because my number’s a mouthful to say. Those of us who were born here ain’t got names. Where are you from, Coryn?”

“Ord Mantell.”

8386071 frowned, trying to remember the stories he’d heard from the other slaves. “That’s… er…”

“Bright Jewel system, Mid Rim,” Coryn said. “I was a soldier in the civil war and got sold as a prisoner.”

“Civil war?” 8386071 decided not to tell Coryn he had no idea where any of those places were supposed to be.

“Gods, they really don’t tell you lot anything, do they?” Coryn drew his knees up to his chest, staring out the barred window that opened to the sandy arena outside. The sleeping quarters were vacant; everyone else was training, the dull thud-thud of the wooden practice weapons resonating as they hit their targets.

“Not really, no,” 8386071 said. “It’s… well, I’d be lying if I said it ain’t so bad, but stories I hear from the other gladiators, other places have it loads worse than we do. Just avoid Harkon and his men when they’re in a bad mood, say ‘yessir’ and ‘no sir’, and don’t ask for second helpings, and you should be alright.”

Coryn let out a barking laugh. “Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better about having my freedom ripped away from me?”

“Well… no,” 8386071 said slowly, “but—”

“But what? I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it was like,” Coryn said bitterly. “I’m never going to see my family again. I had a little girl, a daughter, my Yalena…” He reached up to wipe his eyes, and 8386071 hesitated before offering him a corner of his blanket. Coryn pressed it to his face, shoulders beginning to shake.

“I’ll help you,” 8386071 said quietly. “We all will.”

“What, escape?”

“Survive.”

Coryn shook his head, setting the blanket aside. “Live as a slave,” he muttered disdainfully.

Footsteps echoed in the hall outside and a strange gleam came into Coryn’s eye.

A key scraped in the lock.

“Or die free!” Coryn yelled, throwing himself at the door.

“CORYN, NO!” 8386071 bolted after him, heart pounding as Coryn plowed through Harkon and Ra’viss, knocking them over. 8386071 leapt over their prone forms. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Harkon climbed to his feet and pulled out his detonator.

“CORYN—!”

And then everything went white.


“He’s fading fast.”

“More blood!

“I don’t know if it’s possible to save him, the damage is too—”

“SILENCE! I won’t have my prize gladiator dead because you imbeciles can’t attach a new arm!”

Drifting. Pain. Ringing.

“Why his eye, though? They’re both undamaged.”

“Might as well upgrade him while you’re here.”

“Understood.”

Stabbing. Gouging. Tearing.

Searing. Scorching. Burning.

Nothing.


When he woke up, he was back in the sleeping quarters, and for a moment, he thought it was all a dream, until he realized that this was a different room than the one they normally stayed in, and it was crowded with twice the usual number of people.

“Hey, look, the Scorpion’s awake!” Mako called, and there was a sudden rustle as people turned to look.

8386071 blinked up at them blearily. Something about his vision was off. It was… half red. His body felt heavy. His face itched and his arm felt like it was on fire.

“Are you alright?” Dinah asked anxiously. Worry creased her face. Her voice felt off, tinny, almost, and yet more clear than he’d ever heard before. Sounds were sharper.

8386071 tried to speak, but his voice rasped.

There was a faint splashing noise, and then Jeyla was there, holding a rag to his lips and squeezing water into his mouth. He sucked it down gratefully.

He blinked again. It felt… wrong. Only one eye was blinking. But he could see out of both of them?

“What happened?” 8386071 croaked.

“You know damn well what happened!” Mako snapped. “You idiot, thought you’d chase down the newcomer and what, hold him down? Nearly got yourself killed when he detonated! If you weren’t so injured, I’d beat you myself!”

“That’s enough, Mako,” 427787 snapped.

Mako folded his arms, glaring at 8386071.

“You lost your right arm,” Jeyla said. “And your left eye. I’m not sure what else they had to repair…”

8386071 forced his head to turn. The dull grey metal of his new arm weakly reflected the sunlight and bounced back up in his face. He closed his eyes. Eye. The other one wasn’t so bothered by the glare, and he could feel its vibrations in his skull as he looked sideways with it. He could see worried and angry faces, but that wasn’t all—beating hearts, pulsing arteries, and heaving lungs were now visible, hot red in contrast to the pale redness of the room.

He looked back up at the ceiling. “How long before I’m back in the arena?” he asked. It was the only thing he could think to say in that moment. He’d process what had happened to him later.

“Don’t know, kid,” 427787 said. “You’re already back to good condition from what we heard, but the Master doesn’t want you out in the arena until you’re used to the upgrades. And because of that… well, I’ve got bad news for you.”

8386071’s mouth went dry. “No…”

“The Master’s decided to bump your breeding ahead of schedule,” Mako said. “Since you’re useless in a fight for the moment, he figured he’s going to put you to work in bed.” He laughed. “Have fun, kid. First time always is.”