I was watching the arena, the same place I hated so much. Two men were fighting — one very fat and the other very thin.
The fight was completely one-sided. The fat man was completely dominant.
The fat man was landing every hit on the thin man. With every blow, the thin man kept stepping back, and the crowd was enjoying it. Their cheering echoed through the arena. But as soon as the thin man tried to run toward the gate, the crowd's mood changed instantly — disappointment and anger spread everywhere.
The fat man immediately tried to grab him, but the thin man kept retreating with desperate moves, struggling every moment just to survive.
Seeing the crowd, it seemed they weren't enjoying it anymore. Everyone was sitting quietly. The fat man was shouting, thinking that by beating the thin man, he had proven himself to be superior.
Meanwhile, the thin man started moving toward the gate. He shouldn't have done that; his chances of survival were now zero. He tried to open the gate. The crowd's disappointment was clearly visible. One person from the crowd stood up and said:
"Hey, kid, I paid a lot to watch this show. At least fight! If you die like this, my money goes to waste." Shitty people.
The boy was giving everything he had at the gate, trying to open it, which was pointless. Soldiers from the corners of the arena started moving toward him.
Then the gate opened on its own. The boy was happy, but this happiness didn't last long because Morris came out from inside the gate — that fat man, laughing, his golden teeth flashing as he smiled.
The entire crowd suddenly seemed delighted, like a crying child had just been given candy. Morris moved forward and spoke to the soldiers:
"Hey, hey, everyone calm down. No need to rush. Just try talking gently once — anyone can understand if you talk to them."
He walked toward the thin man. I was completely intrigued. Could he really convince this man with his words? Or did he have another intention?
He stood in front of him and said:
"Hey, hey brother, what's the matter?" Morris stood in front of the thin man. That same disgusting, gold-toothed smile was on his face. "Hey, hey brother… looks like you didn't like something," he said as if speaking to an old friend.
The thin man was panting, fear and exhaustion in his eyes. He didn't say anything, just kept stepping back toward the gate.
Morris raised his hand slightly, as if saying —
"Calm down, just listen for two minutes. In life, brother… You never win by running. Face it like a man…" His voice carried a slight playful tone, but the gleam in his face said something else entirely.
The thin man still shook his head — neither would he fight, nor would he stop. This was hell. He took another step backwards.
Morris' expression changed. Beneath that innocent smile, there was something else — the face of a predator.
In a flash, his hand shot forward like lightning.
CRACK!
The sound of the thin man's jaw breaking echoed through the arena. Blood spurted from his mouth, staining the sand red.
The crowd… went silent for a moment. Then suddenly, it erupted — screams, whistles, applause. Just what they wanted… blood. Some in the crowd said,
"This is exactly what we expected from you, Morris.
"Another said, "You entertained us more than the fight itself, Morris."
I stepped back slightly. My heart raced. Beating him wasn't going to be easy. This always disgusted me… but here, this was exactly what everyone loved.
The thin man had fallen to the ground, holding his mouth with both hands. His groans were drowned out by the crowd's noise.
Morris waved his hand, as if brushing off a little dust. His golden teeth gleamed in the stadium lights. "See? If talking gently doesn't work… You need to give a little more love," he said with a laugh.
The crowd erupted — some shouted his name, some stood on their chairs. A few were so crazy that they tossed their drinks into the air.
For them, this was an incredible moment… for me, it was just another memory I wanted to forget.
The thin man was only breathing now, blood running down his beard and neck. Morris kneeled beside him. With his finger, he wiped the blood from the man's throat, like some friendly mischief.
"Don't worry… I'm letting you live. For today," he whispered, but the eyes lacked that playful smile — only the calm of a hunter remained.
I was still watching from the cage-like room in the arena — the same place from which this entire hateful world was clear to me. Morris' laughter, the crowd's madness, the smell of blood… all of it pierced through me.
I took a deep breath and stepped back. That's enough… I can't watch any innocent suffer like this anymore. I need to tell Garrett soon anyway.
I left the cage and started walking down the narrow corridor. The light was dim, with just a few lanterns hanging on the walls. People were busy with their work along the way, but my eyes caught one face.
The same… Doctor. The one who checks on Garrett. Old, long coat, faint smile, but those eyes… they pierced right through me.
I turned my gaze aside. Ignored. Just kept moving straight toward my room.
"Hmm… looks like you've had some very bad days," his voice came from behind me. Calm… but strange.
My steps paused for a second. How did he know about me…? But I didn't turn. I just kept walking. Faster.
It was creepy as I reached outside my room. I quickly opened the door, went inside… and slammed it shut. The corridor behind still echoed with his voice.
How did he know about me?
As I entered the room, I slammed the door. Garrett was squatting in front of me, intensely focused, but maybe he saw me enter. His eyes caught mine, and he asked:
"What's wrong? You look scared… what did you see?"
I slowly told Garrett everything, about the Doctor and about Morris. His expression turned serious, and worry lines appeared in his eyes.
"I think," he said softly, "this Doctor knows something… something important. If we catch him and make him talk, maybe we'll find a better way out of here. And I think he knows something about your body and mine… which we need to understand."
I nodded slowly, and our eyes locked — it was clear now that it was time for planning and quick decision-making. The room was quiet, just Garrett's breathing and my fast heartbeat.
He approached me slowly, his voice lowering further, serious:
"We need to be careful… We can't just capture the Doctor, we also need to get the information from him properly. If we make a single wrong move, it will be our last day in the arena. And we also have to watch out for Morris. Fighting him won't be easy."
Determination filled my eyes. The time had come — to make the plan and find out everything we needed from the Doctor.
Final Preparation
And so, our final day, the seventh day, arrived.
We discussed our final plan.
Morris's lunch at 12 PM. I'll collapse at 11:45 in the training ground," Shira rehearsed.
"After taking the key, weapon cache. Then the service entrance."
"Viper got the signal. She's ready."
"Iron Maiden?"
"She said yes, but… I don't trust her completely."
"Alright. Backup plan ready."
Tomorrow, our first mission will be to get information from the Doctor, the riskiest task. We planned it for 4 AM, when soldiers are least active.
I said, "And we need to check that room too. If possible, we have to get out of here, Garrett."
He nodded and said, "Yes, together we'll get out of here."
"Together," I agreed.
Outside, storm clouds were gathering, but in the room, there was a
light of hope.
Tomorrow — freedom or death. No middle ground.
But for the first time, it felt like freedom was possible.