"Fifty gold on that sweet piece of ass!"

"Seventy-five says the Orc fucks her dry and chops her head off!"

"One hundred says she kills him in four minuets!"

"Are you jokin' lad? That Orc is at least four hundred pounds, not to mention that double-bladed axe!

There is no way that skinny bitch'll survive."

It was the same dance but a different day. Each morning I would rise and come to the pit, listening to the bloodthirsty men and women make their bets and hope for my victory or fall. The blade I currently held was my favorite. Long, but strong and sleek steel, enforced into it's worn hilt. I dragged the tip of the blade across the ground and the crowd cheered with hot-white sparks flew up from the connection. I smiled at them. My face wasn't pretty anymore, I had lost a few teeth and had several scars in the contours of my skin. I finally understood after all these years, that being in the pit wasn't about survival. Death is inevitable, a reality that we may not like, but a reality all the same. No…the pit isn't about survival, it's about the show. It's about what you can do to entertain the crowd and make them money. So I dramatically dragged my sword across the stone floor. I smiled and took pleasure in my killings. I show'd skin when I had to. Performed when I had to. And my masters stayed happy. And I stayed alive. Maybe it does all come down to survival. What would you be willing to do to live?

"Five hundred on woman! Cal has never lost a fight!"

I tuned out the crowd and aimed my sights on the Orc. He still had the glimmer of hope in his lilac eyes. Poor boy. He was fresh. He was huge and looked like a killer but when you've been killing as long as I have…Well, it's just something that you know. The whip runner readied, which would signal us to fight. I rolled the blade in my hand while never taking my eyes off his. The whip runner was saying something about finalizing all bets but his words slurred out of existence. It was only me and the Orc. Him and me. Everyone disappeared. Only the hum of a buzz could be heard. "Me or him, me or him…" I whispered. The sound of the horn was far off in the distance. I was hardly paying attention. Everything was in slow motion. The Orc charged at me but he was taking forever. He drew his axe up in both hands as he ran at me and yet I stayed at the ready. Maybe I should let him kill me? I had been here for years, slicing and dicing, slaughtering any and all in my path. Maybe it was his turn to live…

I snorted. Like Hell I was going let this immature sac beat me. He swung his axe at me and it was as if the world shifted and fast forwarded all at the same moment. I ducked and rolled out of the way but he was coming after me again. Another swing but this time I met him with my blade. "RWARGHH!" He roared at me! I gave him a kick to the knee caps and it was enough to deter him for a few moments. I tried to circle to his back but his swings were wild and abstract. No way was I getting anywhere near to kill him. He charged at me again and again I met his axe with my blade. What do I do…what do I do? He pushed me back into the crowd and I fell on several patrons. Grubby hands didn't fail to grab my tits and ass. One giant, hairy ape of man was about to put his hands in my pants when I grabbed the bottle of liquor he was drinking. I raised it over his head and planned on giving him a second lobotomy when the Orc I was supposed to be fighting threw his axe at me! I almost managed to elude the spinning
weapon but the blade hit my shoulder, causing a deep gash. The force of my body, however, didn't stop the blade, and instead flew straight into the patron I had planned on smashing this bottle over. This bottle! That was my answer! With my good arm, I cast the bottle to the Orc and it smashed all over his face.

"That stupid bitch just wasted a perfectly good bottle of rum!"

"RWARRRGH"

"What the…."

Confused faces surrounded me but I ignored them. I ran towards the wall and grabbed the nearest torch. Turning back to the Orc, the liquor was still burning his eyes so I had time. I advanced on him and shoved the flickering torch into his face. His skin lit up like dry leaves on a hot day and within seconds his screams could be heard all throughout the tunnels. I snorted and turned to the crowds. Anything goes in the pit and by the cheers of the crowd, they approved.

"The winner, Cal!"

"Cal! Cal! Cal! Cal!"

That was my name they were cheering. I was the winner. I got to live another night. I limped towards the door leading to the rooms of my master's fighters. My escort, Bhoklan, grabbed for my arm and harshly pulled me to him. In the past, I had been known to make an escape attempt or two. But now? Now I was broken.

Hours later, after being seen by our resident doctor, I received a visit from Master Dickson, or Dickface as I liked to refer to him. Dickface entered my cell with no qualms and I didn't even bother to look up at him.

"That was quite extraordinary today Calleiope…" His voice was like venom saying my name. "But now I need you to do something else for me, my sweet."

"What do you want?" He slapped me and then dragged my chin up so I could meet his eyes.

"Don't be rude Calleiope, it's so beneath me to have to listen to it. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Master." Dickface.

"That's my girl." He started pacing around my cell. "There is an important benefactor here today. He saw you fight and he wants to meet you…He'll give us lots of money if you be a good girl."

"So you want me to fuck him?" Dickface turned around and punched me.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want you filthy, elven whore. I want you to spread your knees for him and when you're done, I want you to come see me, so that I can make sure your holes have been properly tended to."

"Fine." He patted me on the head but lingered in my cell.

"You're my best girl, Cal. Don't make me regret keeping you." He turned around and left. I punched the wall in my anger as silent tears fled down my cheeks. One of these days a reckoning was going to happen. And Dickface over there was going to die. Bhoklan opened my cell and escorted me topside, where I would be bathed and prepared for my night of rape and torture.

I repeated my mantra, the one that kept me sane and grounded after all these years. My name is Calleiope, I am a survivor, and this is my story.