Chapter 1

His dreams were disturbed by a giant klaxon going off in his holding cell. Until then he was in a paradise land filled with women, all single available and interested in him.

Obviously a dream then!

He slowly stirred to his cell being coated in a pulsating red light. He was still locked down in his chair, in this pathetic excuse for armour, on the way to the rest of his life. A matter of fourteen hours ago he was Lt. Alexander Kovacs of the NEG Retrieval, Rescue Regiment (R3, for short). He was commander of a crack commando team who specialised in black ops and operations behind enemy lines, which would often involve rescuing, captured or stranded V.A.'s (Valuable Assets) or retrieving information valuable to their employer, which wasn't always NEG mind you.

Government work was good and stable, but in a world where companies were capable of being wealthier and more powerful than governments, shadow ops for the mega-corporations like Axon and Generic Products often paid much better than a year of governmental work. Of course, you had to keep quiet and have multiple secure accounts so you could move the money around without leaving a trail. Indeed, his last job had been a solo operation for GP involving silent planting of illegal operations that the Government's Agency bloodhounds could sniff out. He hadn't known what the reason was behind the operation, or even the contents of the files he inserted in the company's mainframe, just that two hours and seven hundred and fifty thousand credits plus bonuses later, it had never happened.

But that wasn't why he was here now. It was stupid really, stupid enough to make Alex smirk at the thought of it. No, whilst on operations in other galaxies, his CO had been banging his wife for years, which isn't smart to do on any level, especially when the husband of the adulterous whore was trained in surveillance, spy craft and, as his boss and wife found out, lethal unarmed combat. Fourteen hours ago the judge had passed his sentence for the charges of first-degree murder of an NEG executive, with the wife being seen by the courts as collateral damage.

Death in the Tournament- why he was here now. After his sentencing he had been fitted with some sort of woven vest- apparently bullet- proof.

Yeah, whatever! Useful armour was now made of at least ceramic plating, not cloth!

His restraints then disappeared into the chair and a hatch opened in the floor and a large SMG appeared as the door flew open and the red light turned green to the sound of a loud buzzer.

"Fuckers."

He took a hold of the gun. He knew what was happening, after all everyone has seen the Tournament a least once on a vid-screen, if not in person, and knew how twisted Liandri often were. His transportation flight was not that. This was going to be his debut in the Tournament. He took the safety off and loaded a round into the chamber.

Might as well get this over with. Take a swing at it- that was the Triple-R way!

He stepped out of his cell in a crouch, holding his pistol down by his leg, finger hovering just above the trigger. He straightened up and looked either side of him.

This isn't the level I walked through in chains.

He looked at the top and bottom of his cells doorway. No joining marks and either side of the doorway were vertical lines where the paint has been scraped away.

Very clever Liandri. The cells move floors for this fight. Very clever indeed…

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sharp impact in his ribs.

"DIE!!!! AAAGGGGHHHH!!!" Yelled his assailant, squeezing the trigger still as Alex hit the floor due to the impact. He brought his weapon around to face the muscle bound, tattooed, Mohawk-bearing gunman and let off a few bursts from his gun. The bullets ripping through the gunman's knees knocking him to the floor- his gun flying out of his hand as he fell to the floor screaming, his prison overalls covered in blood around the knees.

Alex checked his ribs. The armour had withstood the bullets.

"Hmm, well wouldn't you know it?" He muttered with a look of approval

Satisfied that he wasn't bleeding, Alex got to his feet, adrenaline starting to pump through his combat-veteran body. Just like he always felt after an operation's first kill. He walked towards the crippled man who was dragging his body towards his fallen weapon. Alex stood on the back of one of his knees, resulting in the guy screaming. The guy turned around to find himself looking into the barrel of Alex's weapon. Without a word or sound Alex flicked the weapon to single shot mode.

One shot rang out, followed by the ringing out of a bullet casing hitting the metal floor, followed by the slump of a dead body. A second SMG was on the floor, just begging to be picked up by the ex-government commando. He heeded the weapon's call and allowed a smirk

"Twins"

He began to creep through the ship, looking for his next victim.

Death in the Tournament, a punishment? Ha. This isn't so bad!