DLB4 Life is Death

Sam woke with a start his body protesting the movement as he tried to sit up. It was oppressively hot and muggy hard to draw breath. Swearing softly, wary eyes scanned the tiny cave in which he sat. The walls were black as pitch and he stared in amazement putting his hand up to touch the glassy surface. The sheer silky surface was hard and smooth yet hot to the touch. Not hot enough to burn but uncomfortable enough to pull his hand back. He didn't have to wonder what had forged the glassy surface – he knew beyond any reasonable doubt. Hell Fire!

Carefully he sat up and reached for the ceiling just inches above his head. It was hard to see in the dim light of the cramped cave but from the feel of it his jeans and shirt had been replaced. Now he wore leather pants and knee high boots. His chest was bare but his hands and arms were covered in hard leather gauntlets leaving only his fingers visible. On hands and knees he crawled forward. Reaching the front opening of the small enclosure he growled and mumbled "Dammit," beneath his breath. A crisscross of gleaming black wire blocked his escape. Grabbing two strands of wire he shook and rattled the cage. The wire bent beneath the onslaught but didn't break. He tried several more times using both hands and feet to try breaking the barrier, but all to no avail. The black wire held. A tiny tear of regret coursed down his cheek.

He sat back and leaned against the wall, his clever mind working on a plan of attack or escape – whichever presented the first opportunity.

Sam stilled, he could feel the ground beneath him shake - reminiscent of an out of control Hockey game. He grimaced at the thought. The puck was in play and he was next up on the ice.

He could feel the walls rattling with the sounds of a thousand stomping feet.

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In the distance crackling – cackling voices filled the air as the gathered crowd cheered or jeered at their favored gladiator.

Sam had been right – the demons had set up a hellish fight club – pitting human against human.

When only one human remained a tortured soul was brought in to finish the human off. No human had yet been strong enough or cunning enough to defeat the demon soul. Either way if a humn won – he would face another until he eventually lost.

A huge cave was filled with barking voices. In the center of the cave on a raised dais two tired bedraggled figures stood. Blood ran in rivulets from multiple slash wounds on their bodies. The combatants had been fiercely reluctant. At first they circled, eyes wide with terror wondering how their lives had gotten so terribly broken. The horror of their surroundings, the creatures that beat at them were forever etched into their hearts and minds.

Both were tall one dark haired the other blonde, their bodies honed by long hours in the gym. One held a broadsword, its black double-edged blade raised in horrified protection. The other held a shield and an axe, their weight awkward in his sweating hands.

Equally matched they hesitated to strike but they knew the score – kill or be killed. If they didn't strike soon the demons lining the area would.

They heard the crack of a whip slice through the noise of the cave. Both combatants shrieked as the barbs tore into their backs. Blood ran from the deep slice spurring them to battle.

The jeering crowd pelted them with rocks tired of the inactivity.

The broadsword was the first to strike. The blade sliced through the air as a scream of rage erupted from the man's throat. The blade clattered against his opponents shield sending a shock vibrating up his arms.

Growling angrily now his opponent raised his shield. Lunging forward, the axe in his right hand swung upward.

The dark haired fighter was no swordsman the black blade hung heavy in his hands. Hissing he jumped back and brought the sword around somehow managing to block the axe's arcaimed at his chest. He prayed it was all a nightmare and he would wake up soon. But it wasn't to be. Fear of dying spurred him to attack. He didn't want to die; he had too much to live for.

The battle raged for several minutes both combatants struck punishing blows yet neither able to land a killing blow.

In their hearts they knew only one would survive the encounter; it was kill or be killed.

A slow burn of anger roiled in their gut.

Throwing caution to the wind the dark haired fighter raised the black sword and leaped to attack. The sword became suddenly light in his hand. The glittering blade sliced through the air where only a second before his opponent had stood. The fighter felt the blade shudder in his hands. His eyes widened in shock as he turned and brought the sword back into a blocking position.

The axe wielding fighter saw the deadly blow coming. Ducking down he rolled to his right bringing the shield up. He felt the brush of the sword across the flimsy metal. He came up hard and fast the shield slid down his arm as he grabbed the axe handle with two hands. Leaping into the air he delivered the final blow. With a growl of fury he struck and brought the axe down on the back of his opponents head.

The swordsman's eyes widened in surprise and shocked failure.

The axe blade cleaved through the man's skull splitting it wide. He body went stiff with shock. Brown eyes glazed over seconds before his body fell forward.

A hush fell over the cave at the sudden savage end to the fight. They stared hungrily at the body lying on the rock floor the axe blade still embedded in the back of the dark haired sword wielders skull.

The blonde fighter dropped to the ground the shield looped over his right forearm fell away, clattering to the rock beside him. Guilt washed over him at the thought of what he'd done. He'd killed a man – cold blooded murder is what they would call it. Shocked he turned his head away and buried his face in his hands. Great wracking sobs tore through his body. He barely heard the cackling demons as the cave erupted into pandemonium.

They felt his pain, drank it in, and fed upon it. The caves inhabitants broke into frenzied activities. Demons and monsters slapped at the air grabbing for every speck of pain that poured from the human's soul. They craved it, like a starving man craves sustenance.

It was long minutes before the crowd settled down. A mass of tiny creatures crawled onto the dais and pulled the dead fighter from the ring. The axe buried in his skull fell to the rock. The blade was dark with blood that dripped slowly to the ground.

The sound of clattering metal drew the victor from his daze. His eyes widened at the sight of the bloody blade. Scrambling backward he put as much distance between him and the blade as the ring allowed.

A call for silence filled the cave, but the dark creatures were loath to respond. It was only the tall presence of a higher level demon walking into the ring that captured their attention.

His voice was dark and gravelly when he spoke to the crowd but his eyes bore into the human's curled at his feet.

"This human has emerged victorious," he shouted to the crowd.

A riotous bellow of sound filled the cave once again.

The demon raised his hand to once again call the crowd to silence. He turned to survey the crowd a look of pure malicious evil twisted his face before he spoke, "What shall we do with him?" he roared.

"Eat him," several demons shouted into the void.

Wicked laughter filled the room.

On the ground the human fighter shook with fear his eyes wide at the thought of being eaten by these creatures. Desperation took hold and he spun to face the demon. Bloody hands grabbed for the Demon's cloak. Terror lace his words and his voice shook as he pleaded for his life.

"No, please," he screamed. "I did what you wanted, I killed him. You have to let me go. Please," he screamed again.

A soft light entered the demon's eyes as his hand came up to caress the man's cheek. "Yes, you did kill him – that is true," he offered. "The killing stroke was beautiful," the demon whispered. "A masterpiece," he offered.

"Then you'll let me go," the man screeched quickly.

"Yes," the demon whispered sincerely. "Yes I'll let you go," he promised.

"Thank you, thank you," the fighter screamed in relief. Babbling the young man rose slowly to his feet.

"You have to prove to me that the killing stroke wasn't just luck. Prove to me you have the skill to strike again," the demon growled. Standing tall the demon stepped back and turned away. "Then I will let you go."

The blonde fighter hissed at the injustice of his fate. Dropping to his knees he felt the hopelessness of his situation sinking into his soul. He would never acknowledge the fact the he wouldn't make it home, never see his family or his fiancée again. Hope blinded him to the facts, it was all he had.

He took the demon's words to heart. To be free of this place he would have to kill again. Despair and desperation colored his world. His mind took hold of the one ray of hope that suddenly flashed in front of him. The bloody blade winked in deadly intent. Slowly he reached for it. Numb with fear and grief he wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled it to him.

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Chappie 4 down - So what's next you say?? As if you have to ask - LOL! Please add a little joy to my life and review for me. Thanks, Huggers all!