"I was once in a battle trying to fight my way out when I realized it's better to sneak out." - Jarod Kintz

"Flamma! What is wrong with you?" A voiced hissed, stirring Violet from her unconsciousness. She had fallen asleep in the corner of her cell after vomiting violently in her bedpan when the first fight began. She struggled to open her heavy eyelids; they fluttered as her blurry vision began to focus.

"Hey!" The voice was angrier now, and her captor rattled a stick between the bars of her cell. The noise rang through her ears, echoing in her head, and the shock shot her eyes wide open. "What's wrong with you?!"

Violet shook her head, getting to her knees, "Nothing."

"Are you sick? I can't...you can't be...sick...that would—" The hooded figure was getting frustrated, his gloved hands balling into fists.

"I'm not sick," Violet interrupted, wanting to avoid any possible consequence. She stood, trying her best to masque her shaking legs. "I'm just...scared."

"Well..." the hooded figure let out a deep breath, shaking his head, "don't be. Keep it together. Or else you will have a reason to be scared."

The captor hopped off the platform Violet's cell was raised on and landed in the sand before making his way back to the ladder. Violet approached the front of the cell to look out at the battlefield. The once-clean sand was now sprayed with blood, almost like red tie-dye. She looked around to see who had taken the beating, and was unsurprised to find the bald girl crumpled in a heap on the floor of her cell, apparently knocked out.

She turned to Johanna and gestured questioningly toward the bald girl. Johanna gave a single, sober nod.

"Warriors! That was an eventful first fight! Let's see what our spectators thought..." The kidnapper was at his throne now. He pulled out a laptop and began typing.

"He's recording this?" the Hispanic woman two cells to Violet's left asked with a fearful glance toward Violet and Johanna.

Before answering, Violet paused, looking toward their kidnapper. He hadn't said anything about talking, but she didn't want to find out the hard way whether or not it would upset him. Apparently, though, he was too busy to notice that they were talking—or at least too busy to care.

"Yeah," she finally responded, looking back at the Hispanic woman. "There are cameras in our cells, too."

The woman turned around, noticing the camera for the first time. "Oh my god," she gasped, fighting a sob in her throat as she stumbled into the front corner of her cell. "Oh my god..."

Johanna lifted her head up, seizing the opportunity to speak. "What's your name?" She called out softly.

"Nashani."

"I'm Johanna."

Violet glanced over to Johanna, then back to Nashani, unsure of whether or not to contribute. Yes, they should absolutely stick together, Violet knew, but she also knew that not knowing the women would make it easier if any of them were killed in front of her. Avoiding emotion is cowardice, she reminded herself. She swallowed and turned back to Nashani, "Violet."

The chocolate skinned woman to Violet's immediate left looked between the two, speaking up. "I-I'm Diyah. Diyah Green."

Violet let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head and looking down as she extended her hands to the bars of her cell, leaning forward, "Wish I could say it's nice to meet you guys."

"Well, ladies," their captor interrupted, slamming his laptop closed, "the spectators weren't too pleased with that fight. Spiculus!" He called, pointing to the unconscious girl. "Put up a better fight next time. Attilius!" He turned his attention to the pit.

Violet hadn't even noticed the red headed girl in the far corner of the pit. She looked up when the captor called her Attilius, tears running down her cheeks.

"Please...please don't make me do this," She wept helplessly, her head falling back down between her legs. "Please don't make me do this again..."

"Let's find out who's next!" The man rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Gotta be a good fight, let's hope for a good fight..." He reached into a velvet pouch, pulling out a large, white chip. "Priscus!" He called excitedly, cackling. "Oh yes, oh yes, this is the fight we've been waiting for..." He grabbed a large metal controller that was rigged to the cables suspending their cells and held down a button. Violet looked around, waiting to see whose cell opened.

The Chinese woman stepped out and jumped down into the pit.

"Damn..." Johanna muttered, shaking her head. "White girl don't stand a chance..."

"I-I wouldn't be so sure," Diyah contributed to the conversation, walking over to the right side of her cell to be as close to Violet's as possible. "I heard the red head say she was a personal trainer."

The Chinese woman cracked her knuckles and rolled her head back and forth. "I'm sorry," she announced to her opponent, shaking her arms and jumping up and down to warm herself up, "but this is going to hurt. I'm a professional kick boxer."

Nashani, Violet, Johanna, and Diyah all exchanged glances, taking a deep breath. Violet's hand found her face and she rubbed her eyes, her fury and exhaustion catching up with her.

"Who the fuck pins that tiny girl against a professional kick boxer?" She spat, gritting her teeth. "This is fucking bullshit."

"Why does he call us these names?" Nashani asked. She looked at the three women for an answer.

Violet knew, but didn't speak up. If she spoke it out loud, let the other girls know, it would give their captor and the situation he had put them in too much power.

But Johanna spoke up, although she refused to look at the women. She kept her focus on the Chinese girl and the red head, gripping the bars of her cell as she darkly responded, "They're the names of famous Roman gladiators. We're his gladiators."

Violet felt the other two women resist the urge to sob. The air around them became damp, menacing, hopeless. Diyah sank to into a pile on the floor of her cell but remained silent, resting her forehead on her knees.

The Chinese woman and the red head were on their feet, moving around each other. Each took empty lunges at one another, but both seemed to be formidable opponents.

"Yes! Nice footwork!" Their captor called out, punching the air victoriously and giggling.

"We have to figure out a way out of here," Johanna said softly, intending for only Violet to hear her.

Nashani heard and chimed in anyway, "I...I might be able to beat him. I'm a spin instructor. I may not look like much but I'm pretty strong."

Violet raised her eyebrows, "Not look like much? You look like you could choke me out with your thighs. I very much don't doubt you could beat anyone." Nashani smiled and looked away. Was now a time for manners? Violet asked herself as she reconsidered her comment. She didn't want to sound rude, even if she was being held captive—actually, especially if she was being held captive. "I'm not calling you fat," she clarified, "I'm saying you've got really strong legs."

"I know," Nashani assured her, smiling again. "Thanks."

Violet shrugged, raising her eyebrow, "I don't want to be a dick on my last day or so on earth."

That caught all the women's attentions. They snapped their head toward her and Violet found herself raising her hands defensively. "Not that I think we're going to die...uhh...yeah," she gave up trying to take back her statement, realizing the futility. They probably were about to die. No point in hiding it.

But still, something with her fought violently against the idea, rattling inside of her ribs like a coin inside of a shaken jar. I will not die here. I will not die on his terms.

"I-I-I..." Diyah had to take a deep breath to stabilize her speech. She tried again, this time nodding as she spoke as though to help solidify her words, "I'm a fitness instructor, too. Ballet fitness fusion. I...uh...I might be able to..." Violet saw the tears fill the rims of the young woman's eyes again, threatening to slide over and run down her face. Diyah shook away the tears, looking up and rubbing her face. "I don't know," she finished finally, defeat marking her voice.

"I'm a yoga instructor," Johanna mumbled, tilting her head to the side. She placed her hands on her hips, turning back to Violet. She lowered her voice. "Do you think that's why he nabbed us all? Because we're all work out instructors?"

And just like that, the gears in Violet's head started turning with such fury and force that she almost couldn't hold on to all of her thoughts. Every one of these women was likely some sort of fitness expert...and if the end result was a match with their captor, he'd have been watching them fight match after match...he'd know all their moves...

"Violet?" Violet's head snapped toward Nashani so fast that she felt her neck pop. "Do you have some sort of fitness related job?"

If she wanted to get out alive, get them all out alive, she had to have a strategy. And sometimes the best strategy was a rightly timed lie.

"Yeah," she nodded, turning her attention back to the fight. The Chinese girl pulled her fist back and landed it in the red head's face, knocking her out immediately. Her body hit the sand as Violet spoke up, "I'm a professional ballerina."

"The spectators are thrilled!" The man shouted as he clapped fervently, his attention turned toward his reopened laptop. "Priscus, please escort Attilius back to her cage!"

The Chinese girl hoisted the red head in her arms and tossed her into her cell. Her body hit the ground with a hard smack, but the Chinese girl was unfazed. She jumped back into the arena, ready to fight the next round, as the red head's cell door closed.

"Let's see who's next, who's next..." His hand plunged into the sack again, ripping a white chip out.

Violet swore she could feel the smirk in his voice again. "Flamma," he almost breathed out, extending his arm dramatically, "it's your turn."

The door to Violet's cage swung open, welcoming her to the gladiator pit.

A/N: A special thanks to my two loyal reviewers, Yuuki and Castiel. Please take some time to let me know what you think in a review. Thanks for reading, everyone.